A/N: I cannot apologize enough for all the time I have wasted, I have decided to give those of you who stayed a slightly longer chapter. I will make no excuses for my lack of content. You all deserve a medal for your extreme patience. However since my last time posting on here, I learnt of Monty Oum's passing and I would like to dedicate further writings in his name. Again, I thank you all for you extraordinary patience, and if I could, I would literally give you a medal.
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A Normal Life
Chapter Four
Booker opened his door, and for a brief second, felt… was that sadness? He wasn't sure, he had very little to be sad about. Shaking it off, he started walking to the library, his daughter held firmly in his arms. He would never let her go.
He walked slowly, not wanting to wake his daughter. 'She would love this weather.' He thought to himself. He had previously put in a job application at the local library. The money wasn't the best, but it was more than enough to support himself and Anna. Maybe even save enough to buy a better place for her. He had dedicated his entire being to his daughter.
He was delivered a letter recently from the library asking for his presence. Because he was hopeful about his pending hiring, he immediately began to make preparations.
On the way to the library, Anna woke up, he soft movements and soft humming tickled against Booker's chest. For the rest of the journey, he was content with simply amusing Anna with his cooing.
It was not long before he was looking at the brick building. He swallowed the lump in his throat. He had cleaned up for this, lean shirt, trousers, jacket and a shave. He was loath to lose his stubble, but if that is what it took to make a life for Anna, that is what he would gladly do.
Holding his precious daughter in one hand, he opened the door, the faint smell of paper hitting his nose. It was not unpleasant. Anna seemed to enjoy it, a smile etched onto her face as she stared at the walls of books, eyes wide in wonder. While Anna was occupied with the new environment, Booker approached the desk.
"Good evening, I was asked here by the head Librarian. My name is -" Booker started but was cut off by the desk girl. She was a young girl, likely helping her parents while school was on holiday.
"Booker DeWitt, yes? I've been told to expect you. I'll get mother for you now." Her voice, while having an underlying tone of pleasantness, was sharp. Booker's time with the Pinkertons told him that she knew exactly who he was, and why he was there, and she didn't like it.
"Of course, would you like me to accompany you, or shall I wait here?" While he knew which one he would prefer, he felt it best to ask, His daughter's future hanged in them accepting him.
"If you would please stay here." She replied stiffly. She then walked off between the rows of books. It was not a long time after when an elderly woman approached him, her soft coloured clothes at an impasse with her eyes of steel.
"Mr DeWitt. Thank you for arriving promptly. You are aware of course that this is in regards to your application." Booker nodded to the implied question. "Good, in that case I have to simple questions. Will the customers and the library be safe? You are known to attract trouble."
Booker had knew this was coming. His life as a soldier then as a Pinkerton did not make for a calm life. " I can honestly say that I mean no harm to this building nor anyone in it. It shall come to no harm on my account." He meant that. This was his way to providing for his daughter. He would let no one ruin that.
The head librarian held his gaze for what felt like an eternity to Booker. Eventually she seemed convinced. "Very well, I believe you. Second question. Why?"
A one word question, over a hundred possible interpretations, but for Booker, there was only one thing to answer with. The same thing that got him up in the mornings, stopped him from running from his debts, that kept him sane. "My daughter. I do not want her growing up without toys. Without clothes on her back. I applied so that my daughter may live happily."
His voice was like iron, daring anyone to try and dispute his words. The librarian nodded. Okay then. Welcome to the library! Wear what you want, you start on monday at nine. You may bring your daughter, I doubt you would do any different even if I asked.I'll show you what you'll be doing then. Congratulations." She shook his hand, and wiggled her fingers at the little one in Booker's arms. Anna had turned to face the elderly woman when Booker answered the second question.
Booker let out a breath as the librarian turned and walked away. Thinking upon his situation, he decided that knowing the library before monday arrived would be a good idea. So he went in search of something to read. He knew he was lying to himself by saying that staying here was for his future work. He knew he was going stir crazy in his apartment. He knew Anna needed to see something new. He knew that his life was going to change in this library, and that it would change dramatically.
He had searched through two corridors of shelves, before he found something that interested him, a story about a single father who set out to find his kidnapped daughter. He felt it paralleled his life in many ways, though he couldn't for the life of him remember why he felt like that.
He had been getting these feelings and impressions more and more often, and it worried him. It felt like something was coming his way, and he was scared.
He was deep in thought when a voice broke through and startled him. He half spun around, his military experience taking over, while half of him covered Anna with his own body, his parental instincts taking control.
"Excuse me, ?"
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Elizabeth remembered coming here after running from Booker. She had walked calmly, her head held high, but with tears threatening to break. She had run to the one place she felt safe, that wasn't with Booker.
Almost as soon as she opened the door, she felt eyes upon her, studying her. Pitying her. She followed her feet to a bookshelf, and felt her hand grasp a book. Which one she knew not, her vision was blurry.
She hadn't even managed to sit down in a chair and begin reading before she felt someone approach her. Glancing at the presence, she saw the outline of the librarian. She quickly looked back to her book before she could see her tears.
The librarian sat down in front of her, across the width of the long table. "Dear, is everything okay? Do you need anything?"
Elizabeth felt her breath hitch, her throat close off as her eyes burned even hotter than before. 'Yes, I need my father!' She shouted in her head. "N. No thank you." She said, stumbling over her breaking words. She knew the Librarian wasn't convinced.
The elderly woman sighed deeply. "Honey, It's just going to hurt you more if you bottle it up. Why don't you talk about it?" Elizabeth's shoulders shook. "Was it something said?"
That was it. Elizabeth couldn't hold it in anymore. In the first time in what felt like centuries, she cried.
Coming back from the memory, she felt like she had failed. She had gone to a stranger instead of Booker. She knew what he would say, if he knew her situation. He would forgive her. But she couldn't forgive herself.
'Booker are you afraid of God?' She remembered asking Booker that. His response meant nothing to her at that point in time. Now it means everything.
'No. But I'm afraid of you.' She knew that this Booker didn't know her, wasn't afraid of her, but she kept hearing his confession. She knew, logically, that Booker meant no harm, that her father still loved her, but she couldn't get rid of that repeating, depressing line.
As she heard the door open, she glanced at it. She always had, hoping beyond all semblance of hope that Booker would find her. Regardless of what she knew, still she yearned for his company. She could not see who had entered, a bookcase was in the way, but she knew this was important. Whoever had just walked through that door had something to do with her, she could feel it.
Minutes passed and nothing happened, so she returned to her reading, after being comforted by the Librarian, whom she had convinced that Booker did nothing wrong, she had began to devour the books, shelf after shelf of them, some she had already read, some interested her greatly.
As she finished her chapter, she heard footsteps behind her, she turned and looked at how it was. No one had approached her the entire week she was here.
She saw who it was. She nodded to herself, steeling her resolve, and chasing away her nerves. Silently walking towards the man, she felt her palms were sweating, She saw him grab a book. She had read it a few days previously.
It was an ironic choice for him to choose. She would have giggled had the pressure not been hampering her breathing.
"Excuse me, Mr DeWitt?" She ventured.