This chapter is the continuation of the chapter "My protector."
If there was one thing that Booker DeWitt was not fond of, it was feverish dreams. He'd have a lot of them in his life, and he always woke up sweaty and confused. Almost as if he'd forgotten the real world after getting too indulged in the world that was going on in his head. He didn't like the feeling one bit, and wished that he'd never have feverish dreams ever again. But of course he would.
He had been prepared to leave again that very day, but his wounds had gotten worse. Well, the wound in itself hadn't actually worsened, but it had started affecting his body. He had a fever, and he was sweating profusely. He didn't know how long he had slept. Everything was just fuzzy and warm, and it was so uncomfortable. He didn't really understand his dreams. They made no sense. It was always like that with his feverish dreams.
Once in a while, he had been aware of his body twisting, arching in discomfort, but he'd calmed down. As if someone was there, watching over him, making him feel safe. It was so soothing, but he didn't realize what it was. No, he was truly out of it for the most part. He was burning up. He twisted again, as if trying to wring the excessive heat out of his rapidly warming body. But it wasn't helping. Someone was calling for him. A voice that burrowed into his mind, so soft and caring. Who was there?
"Mr DeWitt?" The voice called. "Mr DeWitt?"
Something cold washed over his face. His eyes shot open as he sat up, gasping in surprise. Without him realizing it, his hand had hurriedly grabbed whoever it was who had woken him up, holding onto the… shoulder? He turned his head a little to see a nervous-looking Elizabeth sitting on her knees next to him, an empty bucket held in her hands, resting on her lap. Booker looked confused for a moment, his hand still holding onto Elizabeth's slim shoulder. His thumb accidentally brushed against a bare spot on her neck, making her stifle a gasp in surprise, her cheeks flushed red.
"Mr. DeWitt," Elizabeth sighed, "You're awake. I was worried about you, and you were burning up."
"Where did you... get that water?" He uttered, his eyebrows scrunching questioningly. They were lying in an air pipe. How did she get water?
"I took the sky-rail down to-"
"What?!" Booker exclaimed angrily. He grabbed her other shoulder in his other hand, completely ignoring the pain in his back from the wounds he'd gotten from the explosion the other day. "Elizabeth, are you crazy?! You could have been captured!"
"But I wasn't!" Elizabeth uttered, her eyes widening a little as her hand clutched to the fabric over her chest. "And you looked so sick and I just couldn't bear to watch it anymore, Mr. DeWitt, I couldn't!"
"It's not your position to worry about me, Elizabeth," Booker groaned, using one hand to rub the bridge of his nose in exasperation. "It's my job to protect you, not the other way around."
"But who's going to protect me if my protector is dying?" Elizabeth hummed, brushing her finger on the tip of Booker's nose. "Explain that to me, will you? ~" She gleamed, grinning at him almost mischievously.
"I… fine," he murmured, looking down in defeat. "But I'm serious, Elizabeth. You need to be more careful."
"I can take care of myself just well, thank you," she smiled, humming a tune under her breath as she stood up. "And that water seemed to wake you up, didn't it? How are you feeling?"
"Better… I was having some lousy dreams again," he murmured, rubbing his forehead with the back of his hand. "We'll have to start moving again today."
Elizabeth was just about to raise her hand in protest when Booker quieted her.
"I'm aware of my wounds. We'll move stealthily, avoid any unnecessary battles, and we'll find somewhere to hide at night. I don't need you nagging at me about my wounds, so I'll be good and say it when I'm unable to move on, alright?"
Elizabeth frowned for a moment before slumping her shoulders, a pout grazing her face. "Fine…" She mumbled with her cheeks puffed out. Booker nodded sternly and got up, stretching his arms a little. "But if we find a clothing district, you should probably consider getting yourself a new vest," she giggled under her breath, motioning to the tearing in his clothes. He sighed.
"I suppose." He murmured, walking to the edge of the air-pipe. "Come on," he said, holding his hand out to motion Elizabeth over. "You made the jump alone earlier, apparently, but I'm not taking any chances. I'll launch you." He said, crouching down. The sky-rail was quite a distance away, and he was afraid that Elizabeth might not be able to jump far enough.
"B-But, Mr. DeWitt," Elizabeth hummed, looking down at her feet with a tiny blush on her face. "Is that really necessary?"
"Of course it is," Booker said, holding his hands a little over the ground. "Just run and step into my hands, and then jump when you feel yourself being lifted."
"Very well," she murmured, nodding gingerly. She ran towards him and stepped into his palms, and he launched her into the air by pulling his arms upwards. She flew quite high into the air, before attaching onto the sky-rail. Booker nodded to himself and stepped back a little before running for the edge, jumping onto the sky-rail. They rode the sky-rails for a while before detaching by a shopping district. They managed to buy a new vest for Booker without being recognized. Elizabeth kept it in a plastic bag as they kept moving, trying to cover as much ground as possible. They never noticed the whispering that had started up between the citizens.
After a while, they were out of the crowded areas, moving quite stealthily to avoid being detected. But suddenly, they heard what sounded like a pitiful moan behind them, followed by the loud sound of metal hitting the ground. "HANDYMAN!" Booker exclaimed and grabbed Elizabeth's hand, pulling her after him. Crap, if only he hadn't lost his gun in that explosion the other day. He had no means of fighting now, and it did indeed seem like they had been spotted. Booker pushed Elizabeth in front of him when they came to a box in front of a balcony.
"Jump!" He hissed. She leapt from the box and hooked onto one of the metal-hooks hanging over the balcony before detaching and crouching down, Booker following suit. He saw a door leading in from the balcony, and he tried to open it. But it was locked.
"Let me," Elizabeth whispered. She crouched in front of the door and pulled out a hairpin, using it to pick-lock the door. They made their way into the seemingly abandoned house. The windows were barred, and practically no sunlight came through at all. They closed and locked the door, walking over to sit in a corner of the room.
"I suppose we'll have to hide here for the time being," Booker groaned, leaning against the wall, but careful not to hurt his back. They just sat there in silence for a few minutes, when they heard footsteps and voice outside of the window. They were close. Elizabeth panicked and grabbed onto Booker's shoulder, huddling close to him. She buried her face in the nook of his neck, hoping it would make her less visible somehow. Her hot breath against Booker's skin made his breath stop in his throat. Silence. The soldiers made one last sweep outside before moving on, still looking for Booker and Elizabeth.
Elizabeth flinched a little when she heard the command for the men to keep moving. She pulled herself even closer to Booker for a split second, her lips lightly brushing against his neck. She pulled away after a second, meeting Booker's almost confused expression. "A-Are they gone?" She whimpered, her lips quivering nervously. Booker just nodded before standing up, swallowing the lump in his throat. How could she have this effect on him without even being aware of it? This girl was dangerous.
After that, they had kept moving until it had gotten dark outside, and they both agreed to find somewhere to hide. They managed to find a recently shut down hotel, so it wasn't too shabby in there. When they got to a room, Booker realized that the water was working, so he decided to take a shower. He told Elizabeth to either take a shower after him, or rest in one of the beds that the room had. She decided for the latter, saying she would rather take a shower in the morning.
Booker had never been more thankful for hot water. It hurt at first, as the water ran down his wounds, but it felt amazing once it stopped hurting. All the dirt and the sweat that had gathered on his body the past days, washed away in the drain. He excited the shower after a while and pulled on his pants. He picked his shirt and vest up from the floor and remembered just how utterly ruined they were. He groaned in exasperation and threw them in the garbage, walking out from the bathroom with a bare torso.
"Elizabeth?" He asked, hoping that she would still be awake. She shifted a little and sat up. The covers slid down a little and revealed a low-neck, white nightgown. Had she gotten that when they bought the new vest for Booker?
"Hm?" She murmured, rubbing her eyes a little. She suddenly blushed when she saw that Booker wasn't wearing a shirt. Why did she suddenly react like this when it hadn't been a problem earlier?
"Where did you put my new vest?"
"It's in a bag by the door, but… surely you can't sleep in your new clothes, Mr. DeWitt," she said, trying to keep her voice calm and steady. She stood from the bed, and Booker was a bit taken aback by how she looked. Her nightgown reached to only barely above her knees, showing off a bit of her slender, white thighs. She wore knee-high stockings that were completely white, really complementing her nice legs. He turned his gaze away quickly.
Elizabeth walked over to the door and got the bag, tip-toeing back to Booker. She sat the bag down next to his bed. "There, you can put it on in the morning," she smiled, turning towards him. "Is anything wrong?" She asked calmly, noticing how he was staring violently at the wall.
"No, uh… it's nothing," Booker murmured, shrugging his shoulders a little. He punctuated his remark by turning his gaze back to her. She really was a sight for sore eyes. Her skin was so pale and creamy, the low neck of her gown perfectly showing off the contours of her neck, her collarbones accentuating her figure with what Booker could only view as perfection. But that wasn't even all of it. Because of the low neck that her gown had, he could see the beginning of her bust, the soft edges of her now slightly visible cleavage being one of the most distracting sights Booker had ever seen. He already knew that Elizabeth had a body quite complimented by her slightly large chest, but when her cleavage was only barely visible like that, it was somehow even prettier.
Furthermore, her nightgown was somewhat hugging her body, expressing the perfect hour-glass shape she had. He couldn't even imagine how beautiful she must look without her –
He shook his head to rid himself of the thought. "Absolutely nothing is wrong," he said nonchalantly, and Elizabeth nodded acceptingly.
"Very well," she smiled. She kept hoping that Booker wouldn't notice her staring. She had never really seen a lot of people in her life, and she didn't know a lot about what kind of preferences people had towards the human body, but seeing Booker like that somehow made her heart beat harder in her chest. His upper body was so… captivating. The visible muscles on his stomach, the rough lines of muscle running between his shoulder and neck. She shook her head. She shouldn't be thinking things like that.
"Good night, Elizabeth," Booker said, slipping under the covers of 'his' bed. Elizabeth went to 'hers' and resumed her much needed sleep, trying to get the thoughts of Booker out of her head.
