Note: The first three sections take place at different points in time, respectively right after chapter 2, the beginning of Burial at Sea, and finally at the end of Burial at Sea. All I wanted to do with this was to show a bit more of Booker and Elizabeth before Unbroken begins, expand a bit on how Booker has been getting along, and finally how everything begins.
Note: Fixed a small error as to when the 3rd section takes place.
Their Eyes
"That's it, good…" He coos softly to his daughter, Anna taking the bottle without complaint, Booker heaving a sigh of relief; he'd expected a bawling, screaming child due to his tardiness. Instead he found her still asleep, her adorable face serene and content.
Leaning back in his chair, Booker idly glances out the window, watching as the setting sun gives way to night. He'd have to light the lamps soon, and read to Anna until she fell back to sleep. A tiny yawn around the nub of the bottle draws a small smile, Booker getting a sneaking suspicion that she wouldn't be up for much longer.
The rhythmic sounds of Anna sucking on the bottle, quiet as they were, echoes in the small apartment and in Booker's ears, nearly lulling him to sleep as the weariness of the day catches up to him. The bottle rolling out of his fingers shakes him back to consciousness, Booker blinking the sleep from his eyes as he looks down at Anna, the peaceful smile on her tiny face eliciting a chuckle.
Lighting an oil lamp, Booker rises with Anna in his arms and still cooing gently, carefully working his way back to her crib as she yawns into his shoulder. With each step, he feels something nagging at his thoughts, the strangeness of the day and how quickly the events were fading in his memory worrying him.
Laying Anna down in the crib, her contented gurgling drawing another smile from her father, Booker turns to leave, to get her book when something catches his eye; Anna's deep blue eyes staring back at him, catching the light from the other room, something about them stopping him dead in his tracks.
A vision jars his thoughts, this time a vision of the girl, she staring back at him while holding his hand. As always, he's left gasping for air, squeezing his eyes shut as he tries to shake the confusion the visions brought without fail.
"Wait…" Opening his eyes slowly, Booker reaches for the bedroom's oil lamp, "Her eyes… how?" The visions were almost always vague, occasionally having a touch of clarity. This time… the girl stared back at him with eyes like the deep blue ocean, eyes just like Anna's.
His fingers fumbling with the lamp, Booker shakes the vision from his thoughts as he finally manages to set it alight, sighing and taking a deep breath. With light filling the room, Booker turns to face his daughter slowly, visions returning to hammer his mind as he goes. It's the same vision, but as he turns the girl brings his hand to her throat, the last image disappearing as he lays eyes on Anna.
She still stares back at him, her blue eyes now shining in the lamp light. But Anna isn't the only one he sees. A ghostly figure of the girl kneels in the corner behind the crib, a figure of blue and white with only her face clearly visible, both she and Anna peering at him with those blue eyes. The image disappears in a heartbeat only to reform, this time taking his breath away. It's the same face, but the eyes look haunted, framed by flowing black hair.
Pain lances through his skull, the room spinning as Booker drops to his knees, the image fading as he screws his eyes shut against the agony. The visions, all of the visions as far as he could tell, find his thoughts and tear at his mind, Booker clutching his skull as he fights the urge to scream. He focuses his thoughts on Anna, on his daughter resting in front of him to resist the pain, but once again he sees the girl. The sensation from earlier returns, the sorrow at the window and the dream he couldn't quite recall, and Booker sees both Anna and the girl in his mind's eye.
The pain slowly recedes from his mind, taking the visions with it, Booker cautiously opening his eyes to find the room still in one piece, Anna squinting at him from the crib. "Dammit, keep it together, Booker…" He rubs his eyes, trying to forget the strange sensation first at the window, then again as he woke.
Something warm and wet touches his upper lip, Booker bringing a finger to it and finding the digit coming away bloody, "Ah hell, what's going on?" Wiping the blood away, Booker pulls himself up to the crib, still kneeling as he looks Anna over, resting his arms on the edge. No ghostly image of a girl appears on the other side, only his daughter staring back at him. Despite the apprehension he felt, Booker couldn't help but smile as she reaches for his hand, taking hold of one of his fingers.
"Something's different…" The thought surprises Booker. Not with Anna, with him. Somehow, he's certain that something feels missing, something or someone. Booker turns his thoughts to his departed wife, the wife he still mourned, the mother Anna would never know, but somehow he knew that wasn't it. He felt lonely, the realization surprising him yet again.
A sniffle shakes him from his thoughts, the room quickly filling with the cries of his daughter, Anna sobbing in earnest. "It's… it's alright." Picking Anna up again, he hugs her as tightly as he dares, wracking his mind for some way to calm her.
A tune comes to him, the lyrics to a song he'd neither heard nor understood how he knew them come unbidden, Booker finding himself humming along as they play in his mind. His body vibrates with the notes, Anna's sobs slowly quieting as he hums, his daughter finally falling asleep against his shoulder as the song comes to a close.
He whispers the final words of the song, kissing Anna on the forehead first, "Just remember… till you're home again… you belong to me…" Laying his daughter down on the blanket, Booker rests his arm on the wooden side rails, the other hanging in the crib, Anna still holding onto his finger. "I'm here." A smile appears, despite the pain he'd felt, "Good night, Anna, I love you. And I'll never let anyone hurt you, ever."
As he lays his head down in his arms, trailing off to sleep, Booker mumbles words that quickly disappear into memory, much like the events of the day, "Ever again."
Elizabeth stands before the door of DeWitt Investigations, trying her best to prepare herself for this moment. She'd rehearsed everything in her mind and before a mirror countless times this past week, having plenty of time once she left Cohen's 'apprenticeship', but her hands still shake. She lifts the unlit cigarette to her lips for the third time before remembering she hadn't brought a light.
"Filthy habit, anyway…" The cigarette was yet another part she'd rehearsed, practicing every bit of the encounter until she was comfortable with the role she had to play. She heaves a sigh as her hand falls to her side, twirling the cigarette between her fingers instead. Smoking had helped her blend in with Rapture's society, and while she admits it can help with nerves, she remembers all too well seeing one Booker hacking and wheezing after a lifetime of chain smoking. At least her Booker hadn't smoked much around her.
"My Booker…" She still hadn't found him. When she wasn't performing as Cohen's apprentice or rehearsing this moment, she'd searched the doors for him. Each time she thought she'd found him, she'd notice something wasn't quite right and backed away.
How dearly she wishes that her father was behind this door, and not the man she had come to Rapture to find. She'd promised herself she'd find him, wanted nothing more than to throw herself into his arms and apologize, this time to the real Booker and not just a dream. She closes her eyes, trying to picture Booker, the look on his face as she stands before him, but the image doesn't come to mind.
She does indeed see Booker, seated at his desk with Anna on his lap. Her younger self… no, Anna, is laughing as her father bounces her on his knee, and Elizabeth feels a bittersweet smile settling on her lips; she'd wanted Booker to be happy with Anna, but she couldn't help but feel a little jealous. Anna had her father, while she had no one. Sure, the Luteces would keep her company at times, but they just couldn't measure up.
Then she catches the look on Booker's face, biting her lip to stifle a cry; though he's smiling as he plays with Anna, his eyes look tired, unfocused, as if something haunted him. He winces from some unseen pain, and Elizabeth can hear him beginning to hum as he bundles up Anna in his arms. She can't hear the tune well enough to make it out, but there's something familiar about it, something she couldn't quite put her finger on.
And then she realizes what she's done: she's peering through a door, a door she hadn't realized she had opened. Backing away, she closes the door as slowly as she can manage, watching this Booker until the door finally closes shut.
She heaves a heavy sigh, trying to compose herself and put that Booker from her thoughts, but only succeeding at one of them. The pain and loneliness she saw in his green eyes, she knew those feelings all too well. But what could be haunting this Booker?
Shaking her head, Elizabeth raises her hand to pound on the door, the glass shaking beneath her fist. She thinks back to the dream, the comfort she drew from it and the desire she'd fulfill once done here.
"I'm going home. I'll help this Booker, every Booker I come across until I'm home. Until then…" She pushes the door open as coughing comes from beyond, gritting her teeth at the sound of the voice. Stepping inside, she begins the act she'd prepared for this moment.
"We're closed!"
Her gaze locks on the blue eyes of her target, "You don't look the sort who can afford to turn down legitimate work."
October 1, 1894
Booker leans against his desk, a smile on his face as he watches Anna play. They'd just come from the park, a favorite of hers, and he'd bought some toys for her on the way home. In reality, they were no more than a pail filled with lettered blocks and a particularly bouncy ball, but the giggles that sound as she plays with them tell another story.
Ms. Pearl had stopped by, the giggling rousing the elderly woman from her routine, the sight of Anna having so much fun brightening her day. She'd disappeared after promising to knit her a new blanket, much to his dismay.
He let loose a sigh, the past few weeks weighing heavily on him. The visions had been coming more frequently, and the sense of loneliness and something missing still held him firm, ever since that strange day four weeks ago. Even though he didn't have the cash, Booker was seriously considering seeing a doctor, so bad they had become. Glancing at the tear-off calendar on his desk, Booker groans, "One more week, and it'll be a year exactly. What are these visions?"
Turning his thoughts from his troubles and weathering the occasional vision, Booker goes about the rest of his day, picking up after Anna and taking care of her needs as best he can. Finally, as evening draws near, Booker lays his tuckered out little girl to bed, covering her with the old blanket she's so fond of.
Closing the door behind him, Booker turns to his own bed, hoping a good night's rest will finally dispel some of the lingering loneliness he just couldn't shake. Intent on collapsing atop the mattress, Booker doesn't notice his knees starting to give out until he begins to fall, just short of his bed. He barely manages to catch himself on the edge of the bedframe, pushing off and trying to rise only to falter again, landing face first on the mattress. Gritting his teeth, Booker raises his head, fighting to at least climb in bed.
"Oh no." He sees a pair of eyes in the darkness, the same eyes as Anna's and the girl's. More of the face comes into view, no more than her eyebrows and cheekbones, blood dripping from some unseen wound. A smile appears briefly, her cheeks pulling back slightly, and he feels rather than hears the last thing she wants to say, but can't.
He finds himself gasping for air, clutching at his heart as an ache in his chest pounds away, fighting to crawl atop his bed. Pulling himself across the old mattress, Booker rolls over and covers his eyes, barely noticing wetness beneath his fingers as he wishes for sleep. He doesn't care anymore if sleep will ease anything; he just wants relief from this pain. He mouths the word he'd felt, over and over until he finally finds his voice.
"Goodbye…"
Sleep does not bring relief, but instead a nightmare, Booker tossing and turning as he's forced to experience it. Unbeknownst to him, two pairs of eyes watch him from beyond the veil.
"How is this even possible? He sensed her death, when he doesn't even remember her?" Rosalind turns to her brother, he still watching through the Tear.
"But so it is. I never dared hope, but this Booker seems to have a… a connection to Elizabeth, even after the timelines were reset." He strokes his chin thoughtfully, pondering this turn of events, "Remember when we first came to watch this Booker? His mind was desperately trying to remember something it could not, so much so his nose started to bleed. It looked almost exactly as when one enters a reality where another self had died."
"Maybe so, but that is only going to make him suffer. She's gone, and there's nothing he can do about it." Rosalind quips, turning to step away from the Tear, "Shame, really, he's doing so well. No alcohol, no gambling…" She stops, glancing over her shoulder at Robert, "This could destroy him."
"No." She turns back to him, surprise on her face as he stares back at her, "He can't do anything on his own. But with some help…"
"No, absolutely not." She crosses her arms, "Last time we stepped in, we went through a hundred iterations of the same story. I don't want to make another hundred attempts."
"There won't be. There'll only be one." Robert stares back at his sister, "We can harness what's left of the collapsed superposition… the last of Elizabeth's power. It's only going to last a short time."
"You are right about one thing, though." He turns back to the Tear, "If left alone, this can and probably will destroy him. He felt her death the moment it happened, as we perceive it. His mind is trying to remember her on its own. That connection could be all he needs to find her, if he could move through the Tears she left behind. Come now, sister, once more unto the breach, shall we?"
"Now listen, brother, this is becoming unhealthy-"
"Rosalind." He gives her a sideways glance, his voice deathly quiet, "I'll do this on my own if I have to. Our invention tore that family apart, and while they've been reunited, I still feel responsible for her." A moment later, he nods at Booker, still in the grip of nightmare, "And for them."
"One Booker lost his mind because his Anna was killed by the last Comstock. I won't allow Elizabeth to die if I can help it, and I won't watch another Booker lose his sanity as well because he had to watch her die."
Silence. The twins stare at each other, the conviction in Robert's voice startling Rosalind.
Finally, she heaves an exasperated sigh, stepping closer to her brother and putting a hand on his shoulder, "Do you think… do you think it's possible this is…?"
"I believe so," Robert turns his head slightly, looking upon Booker once more, "and I shall find out."
Rosalind nods quietly, turning away from the Tear, "Fine, but you'll have to guide him on your own. We'll have to design a device of some sort to channel the remaining energy, and perhaps to protect his mind from the Tears. Let's get to work."
Closing note: Hi everyone, this is (WAS) the final chapter of Song of Sorrow, there's not much else to do as the chapter touched on the beginning of Burial at Sea, and ended just before Unbroken. I hope you enjoyed it. As I mentioned above, I wanted to show more of how Booker and Elizabeth felt as they approached the beginning of Burial at Sea and Unbroken. And as for the vagaries near the end, it'll be explained in the next chapter of Unbroken. As I've said before, this story doesn't get as much of a critical eye as Unbroken does, so comments would be appreciated.
Edit 6/9/15: So, there's an epilogue now, taking place between BaS Episodes 1 and 2. As such, this isn't the final chapter anymore, though chronologically the last bit is the closest to Unbroken's beginning.