Author's Note: I do not own any if these characters, but I do have a copy of the BioShock Infinite game and have played it well over three times just to understand its plot. Plus, Booker was just soo cute when he nearly gets drowned by the priest when he reaches Columbia for the first time. Alright, now, back to business.
Songs of New Beginnings
To Learn to Fly
LONDON, 1924
Robert Lutece promptly sat across his sister in the front of the coffeehouse. Rosalind barely regarded his presence having been too absorbed with the workings on the papers before her. Making a face, he reached over to snag her cup of coffee from its ignored state.
"You didn't have to do that", she said, not looking up from the papers.
He knew what she meant. After all, they were similar in very intriguing ways.
"She deserved closure. I cannot leave her in such a devastating state", he frowned.
Rosalind waved a hand to shush him from providing any more excuses that he would have flooded her with. She already knew some of them from their partially shared intellect. She would have made some of them if she had truly cared for the girl. Needless to say, work always comes first.
With Comstock not existing, Columbia was gone to the world, based on her perspective anyway. She couldn't care less whether there was a floating city or not. Infinite world would mean a chance to start afresh. An exciting new project, she would have declared of she was up for it.
Unfortunately, she was being held back.
By Robert.
That man had suddenly spawned a conscience that could rival a walrus's. She didn't know how or why but she did suspect something.
"We need to part ways", he began, his voice sure. "If you would just rather sit about dallying on something that would be another mistake, so help me, Rosalind".
Would.
She sighed.
If he had already known, she herself had been denying the outcome of her little project. Crumpling the sheets of paper, she regarded him with a questioning glance.
"Satisfaction does not come this easily", he remarked.
"Hmph, now that you've rained on my parade, what is it you want? I have agreed to help you with DeWitt just because your idle threats of leaving me were just plain pathetic. So, I have provided my part. What is it you want now?" she kept her voice steady but he already knew that she was more than fuming.
"Just your blessing, sister, it would be enough to get me where I want to be", Robert said.
Reaching over, she placed her hand over his. "Don't do it, Robert, do not get yourself involved this way".
"I can't. After all, it is all I can think of", he shook his head, removed her hand and walked away. Rosalind felt a cold shiver travelling down her spine. There was something oddly familiar about the way Robert acted. It reminded her of something. Just like that, the sensation passed. She could only guess where he was going to.
No doubt to her, thought Rosalind.
PARIS, 1919
Elizabeth popped the tart into her mouth, savouring the sweet taste of fruit and custard. How long was it since she had tasted food like these? Surely not in Columbia. She could hardly remember any of the food she ate when she was in Songbird's care.
Two more days before what little she has runs out, two more days before she slips out from the hotel to the streets of Paris. She would have to go quietly in the night, when she wouldn't be noticed by the reception. Then, she would open a Tear and get along into another life. Maybe to the countryside. She always wanted to ride a horse.
"Excuse me, miss", one of the hotel's concierge approached her. Immediately, she froze, wondering if the management did find out about her financial situation. She had initially let them assume that she was a young rich girl who was just staying for a week just until her beau comes to fetch her for New York.
"Yes?" she said hesitantly.
"A letter has been left for you", the young man said in fluent French, handing her a folded piece of crème paper.
"Oh, thank you. Who sent this?" she asked, inspecting the short note.
"I haven't a clue, sorry", the man said in French before walking off.
With trembling hands, she unfolded the paper.
"Do not run, we need to talk tonight", she read the words under her breath. Under the message was an unfamiliar address. She chewed on her lower lip, considering whether if it was a good idea to trust the written words of this stranger.
"Hell with this", she muttered, getting up to leave the deli for her room. Looks like her trip to the countryside was going to be earlier than she had expected.
Opening the Tear she wanted was easy. She had enough of people telling her what to do even of it was Robert Lutece. He did help Comstock before, a part of her reasoned. That is why I'm not going to do as he says.
She bid a silent farewell to Paris and stepped into a meadow of green grass. The clear sky on the other side was beautiful. She hadn't seen sky like this since Columbia. It reminded her of home in away although no matter how hard she tries, she could never find the floating city any more. She guessed it all ended when she ended Booker.
"Where am I?" she murmured, peering around for any sort of signage that would explain where she was.
"Took your time", a voice said from behind her. Startled, she began to open up a Tear when she noticed that it was a dark haired woman who was smiling at her. The woman was quite out of place. Her long dark curls were a deep contrast with the fiery red jacket she wore over what looked to be a white cotton shirt and beige breaches along with tanned leather boots. She wore gloves, with a sheathed knife hanging from her belt.
"Um, sorry, I don't understand", she backed away slowly. "What is going on?"
"Easy, easy. It's alright", the woman must have noticed that she resembled a cornered cat. "Robert told me to get here, said that I was to meet a young girl who would scare the withers off me".
"Robert Lutece sent you", Elizabeth straightened herself, frowning at the older woman.
"Precisely, name's Betsy by the way", the woman extended a gloved hand to her. Elizabeth let it hang for a moment before taking it warily.
"Elizabeth", she muttered.
"Now that we're well acquainted, do you mind taking me to Robert?" Betsy asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Where is he?" Elizabeth asked.
"Well, why don't you take me the first place that comes to your mind? You seem to have good instincts, girl", the woman urged her with an encouraging smile.
"Alright", she shrugged, opening the first tear she could think of.
NEW YORK, DECEMBER 1893
Booker DeWitt tucked away the crushed up dollar bills into his coat pocket. It would be enough to pay both the rent, leaving a small amount for his provisions. He knew that he had done right by taking the job even when this time round, the run had been a little too risky for his liking. Still, beggars can't be choosers, he had to repay the rest of his debts and this was the quickest way possible. Anna was asleep by the time he collected her from Mrs Clarke's, promised the woman that he would be paying her in full next time round and hastily left the Clarke's residence for home. Home was of course his old beat up office. Settling his daughter's head on his shoulder, he fished out the keys to his office. Getting the creaky door open was a trick he had mastered from the past few weeks, having to put the weight of his other shoulder to brace the door and shove against it silently.
"Mister DeWitt, I see you're in good health", a voice said from the inside of his dark office.
"What the hell?" Booker growled, flicking the switches to reveal a young man sitting on his chair.
"I presume that is a manner of greeting and not a possible sign of hostility", the man said, looking a little bored. "I'd advise you to settle your little one before she makes a fuss".
"Hey, pal, get out of here. I told you I'll pay up, just give me some time", Booker said, weighing in the possibilities of him murdering this man silently while Anna slept.
"Still indebted, I see. No, I'm not here for that purpose", the man said smugly. "Perhaps if you would spare some time for a little chat, I promise I won't cause any sort of trouble".
"Fine by me", Booker grunted, shutting the door before they start to freeze to death. "Who are you, by the way?"
The man got up and extended a hand.
"Robert Lutece".
Author's Note: So, what do you think?