Tough Love
Part Three
Carmen's heart pounded in her ears as she stared at her father. He sat in his armchair, bruises and cuts covering his face.
"You're home," her father said, taking a swig from his glass as he regarded her. His voice was calm and steady, as if they were discussing the weather.
Carmen bit the inside of her cheek. He had known? This entire time? She quickly picked up her keys and went to embrace him.
"I was able to leave early," Carmen said. "Are you, all right? What happened?"
"I'll be fine," William said gently, standing up and running one hand through her hair. "It seems some time was knocked off my sentence," he pulled away to look down at her, "I have a feeling you had something to do with that."
Carmen could feel the sweat on her palms and she tried to think of some other way out of this conversation.
"To do with what?" Carmen asked.
She noticed faint cuts in various stages of healing on his face mixed with blue and purple bruises. In addition, there was a large bandage on his left shoulder which was visible due to the muscle shirt he was wearing.
"Daddy what happened to you? What did they do to you?" Carmen asked, her eyes full of genuine concern.
"Apparently they thought I was associated with the Vox Populi," her father scoffed.
He turned and refilled his drink. His gaze bore into hers and Carmen yawned.
"I'm tired daddy," she said.
She pecked her father on the cheek, before she made her way upstairs.
"Get some rest, kiddo," Carmen heard her father say as she took the steps two at a time. She let out a sigh of relief as soon as she reached her room. She had averted the argument and a possible grounding (although her father didn't implement that punishment very often).
Carmen placed her key on her nightstand and her Broadsider under her pillow with the photograph. She quickly changed into her favorite nightgown and slid into bed. As soon as she closed her eyes, sleep took her.
William had indeed not forgotten about Carmen's deal with Roy Fink but decided to save that argument for the morning. He yawned before downing the contents in his glass.
He then locked all doors, closed all the curtains, and turned off all the lights before going upstairs to check on Carmen. Once he reached her door, he cracked open the door. He could see Carmen turned toward the door, her hand outstretched as if she were reaching for something.
"Daddy, don't go," she murmured.
He went to stand beside her bed and brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear. He gently stroked her hair, watching as she stirred before she turned away from the door. William kissed her forehead gently and closed her door. He then headed to bed himself and soon fell asleep.
The next morning, William awoke to the warmth of the sun on his face. He quickly dressed, mindful of his left shoulder, and went to Carmen's room. He opened her door slightly to see her facing away from the door. Her breathing was rhythmic, and he listened for a few moments before going downstairs.
He went to the kitchen and began making one of Carmen's favorite breakfasts, scrambled eggs with bacon and toast. When he was done, he set the table and served himself some eggs, bacon, and a piece of toast. He then made himself some coffee and took it with him to the table.
He sat down and pulled out his reading glasses, which he perched on the tip of his nose. He unfolded Columbia's only newspaper, The Columbia Tribune, and took a bite of eggs. His gaze immediately went to an article about the Vox Populi attack on Roy Fink's party last night. Inwardly, his blood boiled and vowed never again to let Carmen associate with the Fink's. He took a sip of coffee, before he turned the page.
By the time Carmen came downstairs, William had already had his fill of breakfast. He didn't move his gaze from the paper as she entered, pecked him on the cheek, and sat down across from him.
"Morning daddy," She said, as she took the remainder of the eggs.
"Sleep well?" He asked.
"Well enough, I suppose. I kept having this strange dream about Columbia," William noticed her hand went to her choker, and he wondered if she had been having visions again.
He waited until Carmen's plate was full before he continued.
"So Roy Fink huh?" He said, keeping his gaze on the paper.
In his peripheral, he noted Carmen's hand pause midair toward her mouth holding a piece of toast. He waited as she took a bite, before she gulped down a large amount of orange juice.
"What about him?" She finally said. If that was how she was going to play this, then she would be sorely disappointed.
William sighed, and folded up his newspaper. He set it on the table to his right and took a drink of coffee.
"You were at the Fink Estate last night," he said matter-of-factly. "With Roy Fink, I presume?"
He watched his daughter as she took a bite of eggs.
"Yes, he invited me to a party he was having. Via telegram," she replied. She looked him in the eye when she said it, but her tone wavered at the last part.
"I knew that much," William said with a sigh. "You realize I receive a transcript of every telegram sent to this address?"
He removed his reading glasses and stacked them on top of the newspaper. He raised a brow at her, and she sighed.
"I didn't know he would do that," she said, and chewed her upper lip.
William gave a pained sigh as he rubbed the bridge of his nose tiredly before regarding his daughter, "I wouldn't care so much if it were that boy at the fair that liked to stare at the sun but one of Jeremiah Fink's boys? That racist bigot is the kind of scum that gives real business owners a bad name."
"I know," she said, her brows knitted together. "I certainly didn't with him because I liked that bigot. Besides, it was the only way I could think to get you out of prison."
She flinched, before letting out a sigh of defeat. He sipped the rest of his coffee, before he spoke again.
"You and I both know whatever it is that gives you these visions, is bigger than we could possibly comprehend," He said, level his gaze at her. "When you were left at my doorstep, I promised that I would ensure you would remain out of harm's way. Associating yourself with the Finks will only paint a target on your back."
She nodded insistently, "I know. And I don't like the Finks either, but I wasn't going to let you rot in jail for something we both know you didn't do."
She reached for his hand, and he held hers. He squeezed it and continued.
I'm living on borrowed time kid," he said, feeling much older than he actually was. He was nearly in his forties, with graying hair and age lines on his ruggedly handsome face. "You've got a lot more ahead of you, I'm not going to be around forever."
She shook her head as tears fell down her cheeks. This conversation pained him, but he knew it was vital.
"I don't care, I stand by my decision," She said, pushing away from her chair. She stood up and embraced him, while he did the same. He stroked her hair and gently rocked her.
"Did you get the parcel I left by your bed?" He whispered, and she nodded.
"Do you recognize the man in the photograph?" She asked, as she pulled back to look up at him.
He shook his head, as he began to collect the plates and forks.
"I can't stare at it for too long," he said. "Gives me a headache, for some reason."
She raised a brow, as she took the egg pan and bacon plate. She placed the dishes beside the plates and silverware on the kitchen counter.
"What do you mean?" She asked. "He looks just like you. And the woman looks just like-"
William held up a hand and she stopped.
"Whoever those people in the photograph, they're your real parents," he said. "Now come on, these dishes won't wash themselves."
The pair finished gathering the rest of the dirty dishes, before filling one sink with soapy water. William washed, while Carmen dried.
"What did you mean when you say you got a headache from the picture?" Carmen asked, as she dried both forks.
William shrugged as he grabbed the egg pan from the soapy sink. He rolled up his sleeves and scrubbed the pan.
"I mean, whenever I look at it, my head starts to pound and my nose bleeds," he said.
She nodded and took the egg pan.
"That's odd, I don't experience either of those things," she said.
Both continued their routine until all the dishes had been finished. Carmen suggested they go for a walk, and he agreed. He insisted she bring her Broadsider pistol, and she went upstairs to fetch it. Meanwhile, William drained the sink and dried his hands.
Soon enough, both felt a light breeze against their skin. The sun sat just above the horizon and clouds drifted above and around them. Not many people were out and about yet, but there were a few carriages parked on the side of the street.
He froze when a bullet whizzed past him. He grabbed Carmen's arms and turned her so that she faced him. He grabbed her hand and led her toward a large pillar nearby. More bullets rained down on them, and the few people in the vicinity fled.
"What the hell was that?" Carmen asked.
William peered out from behind the pillar and searched for where the shooting had come from.
"I don't know," he murmured as he scanned the rooftops.
As the shooting momentarily ceased, Carmen pointed to her skirt. He figured that's where she kept the Broadsider he gave her. He shook his head, and half turned back to scanning the roofs. He stopped when he found four familiar men, each with different sized guns. He immediately knew them to be Obediah, Clem, Simon, and Drew from yesterday. But why? He ducked behind the pillar again once the shooting recommenced. Before he could pull out his Hand Cannon, he heard a familiar feminine voice and another weapon nearby.
"I don't know why you're shooting at my neighbors," Said Miss Barton. He heard the rat-a-tat-tat pause, before a lone bullet was fired. "But I recommend you leave before one of you gets hurt."
William's eyes widened in surprise as he heard a body clatter to the ground. He looked partially around the pillar to see Drew's weapon land on the roof, before his body slid unceremoniously to the ground. He also noticed a red hole just above his eyes.
He decided now would be a good time to assist Miss Barton. He half turned to Carmen as he pulled out his Hand Cannon.
"Stay here, I'm going to help Miss Barton," he whispered.
Carmen's eyes widened, but she didn't speak. He wished in that moment he'd taken something from his armory, but this would have to do. He cocked back the hammer of the pistol and just as he was about to fire, a bullet tore through the left side of his chest.
William dropped his Hand Cannon and clutched the wound. He removed his hands to see a red, sticky liquid oozing from it. He soon fell face first on the ground.
I'm sorry, kiddo, he thought as he hit the ground.
Carmen remained behind the wide pillar, her entire body shaking. She watched as blood pooled around her father's body on the ground. Grief threatened to overwhelm dread, which fought with shock. She snapped her head up when she heard Miss Barton's voice call to her.
"Carmen are you still there?" Miss Barton grunted.
As the shooting temporarily paused, Carmen edged carefully around the side of the pillar. She looked at the roof of an adjacent building to see three men with machine guns. She turned her gaze and found Miss Barton hiding behind a carriage, a sniper rifle in her hands. They locked eyes for a moment.
"I need you to get a carriage for your father," Miss Barton said. "He doesn't have long. Now."
Carmen silently nodded, before she picked up her skirts and ran. The barrage of bullets resumed just as she passed Miss Barton's carriage. She scanned the empty roads as she ran, and almost ran past a carriage on the next street. The driver, a man who looked no older than her, leaned against his stagecoach. He casually read a newspaper as his mechanical horses waited for a customer to come along.
"Sir, could I trouble you for a ride?" Carmen asked. She held out a handful of Silver Eagles, "I can pay you double this, if you get me there within the next few minutes."
"Get in," the man said, and folded up his copy of The Columbia Tribune.
She opened the door and climbed inside. She could feel her pulse in her ears as the wagon bumped along. She held one hand on her seat, while the other gripped the door handle.
She instructed the driver to stop as soon as she saw Miss Barton. The door flew open and she hurried over to her neighbor. Miss Barton's white corset had small smudges of dirty on it, while her iris skirt had more than a few wrinkles.
"Where are the others?" Carmen asked.
Miss Barton shook her head, "I don't know. They disappeared shortly after you left. Come, let's get your father."
Carmen nodded and followed Miss Barton toward the pillar across the street. Miss Barton used her kerchief to stop the bleeding, before both hauled him into the coach. Carmen handed him a few Silver Eagles.
"To the hospital," Miss Barton said, once Carmen had entered the carriage and closed the door. "As quickly but gently as possible."
The man half turned to see William's pale and unconscious form. He grimaced and pulled his hat lower on his head.
"I'll do my best," he said.
Throughout the ride, Carmen held her father's hand. His eyes opened a few times and when he tried to speak, she couldn't understand him. There were a few times they had to stop because the clouds shifted the road, but they ended up arriving at the hospital.
Miss Barton left the carriage and entered the tall, white building while Carmen remained with her father. A few moments later, Miss Barton returned.
"Nurses will be here with a gurney in a few minutes," she said. "You may want to step out."
Carmen nodded, and both women got out of the stagecoach. She turned to see four women carrying a gurney toward their carriage. She moved away from the back and watched as they gently slid him onto the gurney and wheeled him inside. In her peripheral, she saw Miss Barton hand the man a few Silver Eagles.
"I hope your father gets better soon, miss," the man said. "I'll keep him in my prayers."
"Thank you," Carmen said.
She and Miss Barton went inside, with the much cooler air sending goose flesh up their arms. The waiting area was a large, square space. The walls and floors were white, as were the nurse's uniforms. Not many people occupied the seats, but the nurses did their best to comfort those present. Carmen and Miss Barton took a seat closest to the front door.
Throughout their wait, Carmen tapped her foot. Whenever Miss Barton offered her a drink of water, she refused. One hour later, which felt more like several, a nurse approached the pair. The woman had red hair, which was slowly starting to gray and wore a white uniform. Both Carmen and Miss Barton looked up at the nurse.
"Hello, are you Carmen McNamara?" Asked the woman. Carmen nodded and stood up, "I'm Josephine. If you'll follow me, I can take you to see your father."
"He's alive?" Carmen asked, her eyes wide.
Josephine nodded, "For now."
"Carmen," Miss Barton said, and Carmen turned to her neighbor. "I have to go, unfortunately. My shift at the Salty Oysters starts soon, but I'll come back afterward if you need me."
Carmen shook her head, "No, you've done more than enough. Thank you," she said, and hugged Miss Barton. Miss Barton returned her embrace and ran a hand through her hair. Miss Barton was the first to pull away.
"All right then, as soon as he wakes, send me a telegram," she said, and turned and walked out the door.
Carmen then turned back to Josephine.
"Tell me about my father."
She followed the redheaded nurse to an elevator. Josephine pressed a button, and they ascended.
"Well I do have good news," Josephine said. "There was no bullet inside your father. It passed through and we were able to stitch up the wound."
"Will he be all right?" Carmen asked, "Will he wake up?"
Josephine shook her head, "We don't know. At this point, we'll have to wait and see." Once the doors opened, she motioned for Carmen. "Follow me."
The teen followed Josephine down the brightly lit hallway. Both stopped at room C3 and Josephine opened the door. Inside, Carmen's father lay on a bed. His eyes were closed and his skin pale. He was bundled beneath a blanket and his breathing was steady.
"I'll leave you two alone," Josephine said, as Carmen pulled up a chair from the wall and placed it beside his bed. "Don't hesitate to call if you need anything."
"I will," Carmen said, without turning toward the nurse. She heard the door close behind her as she reached for her father's hand and squeezed it.
"I'm sorry daddy," Carmen whispered as tears fell down her cheeks now. "I'm so sorry."
Hours passed, and William remained unconscious. One hour into Carmen's stay, Josephine had come in to ask if she needed anything. She'd only asked for a water, which remained half drunk on the ground beside her chair. Currently, the teenager was asleep on her father's chest. The light in the room had been turned off. Meanwhile, two individuals stood watch over the pair in the room. Both had bright orange hair and immaculate tan suits.
"They look so, peaceful," said Robert.
"Yes, they do," Rosalind replied. She half turned to her brother, "He survives, you do know that, don't you?"
"Of course, I do," Robert said, puffing his chest out. "I'd just thought the mother would be here with them."
"But he doesn't remember her," Rosalind said. "And I highly doubt he ever will."
"We could change that," Robert said. He looked fully at his twin now, who raised a brow.
"And what would that do to the timeline?" Rosalind countered.
"Change it," Robert said. Just as his twin opened her mouth, he added, "for the better."
Rosalind shook her head, "I'm afraid I don't see how."
Robert turned his gaze back to William, whose eyes slowly opened.
"Let's discuss this, somewhere else," he said.
Rosalind nodded, "Of course."
And with that, the twins disappeared.
William opened his eyes to see Carmen asleep on his chest. He gently stroked her hair, as he tried to recall anything past getting shot in the chest. He gingerly touched a hand to the left side of his chest, and his daughter's eyes slowly opened.
"Daddy, you're awake," she said. She reached up and kissed him gently on the cheek. Fresh tears slowly dripped down her cheeks. "You scared me."
"I'm sorry, kiddo," he said, and squeezed her hand.
"It wasn't your fault," she whispered. She squeezed his hand in return, before she went to get the nurse.
He felt horrible that she'd been so worried for him. But at the same time, she'd managed to get him the help he needed. He sighed and touched the bandage on the left side of his chest again. He knew in his gut that things wouldn't get any easier from here on out. He just hoped she could/would survive whatever happened.
Author's Note: So, I know it's been a loooooooong time since I've worked on a Bioshock story. Believe me, I'm painfully aware. I know the usual excuses of school, work, other projects, and Memorial Day weekend (for those in the US) probably aren't acceptable at this point, but it's true. I do hope however, that finishing this story will help.
Additionally, this will probably be my last Bioshock story for some time. Don't worry, I plan to return to the franchise, it just won't happen right away.
Once again, I would like to thank J3FAwesome for allowing me use of William McNamara. I own Carmen McNamara, Selina Barton, and Roy Fink. 2K and Irrational (which unfortunately doesn't exist anymore) Games own Columbia, Jeremiah and Albert Fink, yadda, yadda, yadda.