Long chapter with some hard hitting material. I hope. Anyways, sorry for the long wait. I've been caught up in school stuff. Enjoy.
"Stay safe, alright? I don't know what you're gonna see there, but you've already saved me. Don't try to be a hero. You've got me, and Anna, to stay alive for." Those words kept ringing in Booker's head.
His shook his head. Focus, if you're gonna stay alive, you've gotta be ready. Another part of his mind seemed to laugh at that. Why was his first instinct danger? Who knows where he'd be headed.
Rosalind's voice pierced his thoughts. "Ready? We operate the machine, the tear opens and you step through."
Robert butt in, "The tear will transport you into one of your memories. Since this is our first operational machine we will not be able to pick a specific memory, so please be careful. Oh, and if you find yourself, do not interact. A single glance at you could change several universes."
Booker nodded. He hefted his Carbine over his shoulder. He gripped the sling and lifted his pack. "So, what do I do there? Subtly help that Booker?"
"Precisely. Nobody knows more about you, than you." The Lutece Twins finished.
The man gripped the seat, steadying himself. "You don't know what the hell you are talking about, Bill. She's my daughter."
The older man smirked, "Yes, because leaving her, a infant in her room to fend for herself while you go and harass factory workers is a good idea."
Booker shot back, "It's not like I've gotta choice. Dunno which world you are living in, but in mine, Annabelle is dead. I'm poor, I've got no future. I'm addicted to the bottle, and i'm gonna die to the bottle. What do you want me to do?"
Bill took a minute to ponder this. "Booker, your life is so fucked. You ain't gonna be a millionaire, but you've gotta do something. Something. Anna is gonna want things and you've gotta provide. Book, do something."
Booker yelled, "Don't you get it!? My book is written, I can't get out of my grave because it's too deep. God damn, do I have to spell it out for you? I'm livin' in poverty. My guns? Stolen from the PD. The crib? That's what wood liberated from the construction site two blocks away looks like."
Booker slumped to the floor. He grabbed one of the bottles from the floor. He tipped the bottle to his throat and felt the drip of Vodka hit his throat. "Just… if I die, can you take care of her? When the time comes to tell her about her dad, tell her he was a deadbeat muh'fucker."
The eldest man sighed. Booker was going to likely die, yes. Either the years of drinking ending him, or the Mob finally sniffing him out. God, wasn't there something he could do?
He responded, "Booker, if you die. I'll take care of her. But don't you go an' try to end it, try. You maybe eight feet under, but you can always swim up. For her case, you better not drown. Take it from me, growin' up with no daddy is hard."
Booker just sat against the wall. The empty bottle lay discarded on the dirty floors. His shaking hands reached for a beer bottle laying near his chair.
Swifty, Bill picked it up and shook his head. "Boy, if you are gonna die, die at the hands of another man. Not to the bottle."
Booker, who was in the vents felt revolted. This is what would happen to him if Robert never took Anna? Was this worse? He felt a internal knife plunge into his mind. Of course having a father who's slowly killing himself and his daughter is worse. But, Elizabeth. No. No. Don't wish Anna to the same life as Elizabeth.
But it's better. Isolation or Starvation? You know which one is the lesser of two evils. He shook his head. Stop. You are here to get him out of this shit hole. He glanced at the scene before him again.
Booker curled up on the floor. "Bill? I'm scared. Sometimes I wish I never existed. 'Cause maybe Annabelle would've met a actual fuckin' man. Not me, the Alcoholic who beats the shit outta people for steppin' outta line. Maybe then Anna woulda been born, but with an actual dad. Who buys her anything she wants. God, I wish it was different. I'd go back an' change it all, if I could."
The older man sighed. "Stand up. Help me clean this room up. I'm gonna see if I can do something for you."
Booker was on the roof now. He slid the vent panel back in place. As the light drizzle came down, he lit a cigarette. He managed to get a single puff before it went out. He leaned on the railing. He tossed his now damp lung killer on the sidewalk below.
What if I put him out of his misery? As soon as the thought went into his head he visibly cringed. God Booker, why are you so disgusting? Leave Anna alone in this universe?
He let out a groan as his insides seemed to rip themselves apart. God. He let out a breath. "Pull me out, I don't wanna do this right now." He spoke to the open sky.
The dark blue sky visibly lightened. The world seemed to warp and distort in front of his eyes. He could see the threads of time and space slowly getting pulled apart. He slung his rifle over his shoulder and picked up his pack and slipped his revolver into his holster.
In front of him, Robert looked concerned and Rosalind simply shook her head and looked away.
He squinted and tried to figure out the figure dressed in navy was. He stepped through and his universe slapped him with a barrage of information and a slight tinge of, "why'd you leave me?" He stumbled and caught himself on a wooden chair.
He let out a sigh, "Never really gets better, I'm always so fuckin' disorented."
As he faced the tiles he pulled himself up to face the twins. Before he could manage a word, a body hit him at the speed of light. This time he didn't catch himself, he tumbled to the floor in a shocked heap.
Two diamond blue gems stared into his shattered emerald ones. The sweet voice never ceased to take out the air in his lungs. "Booker! Are you okay? We were watching over you and… the stuff you said. God, each strangled sentence you spoke stabbed my heart."
He gazed at his goddess of a wife, he eyes lingered at her stomach, where a slight bump was just very slightly protruding. "That wasn't me Liz, I've got you and you." He said, his hand rubbing her belly.
He pulled her up and she leaned on him. He looked at the twins, who wore serious expressions. Though, on second glance he could see the edges of a smile on Robert's face and lines in Rosalind's forehead. She was upset. Before he spoke, she slipped several dollars into Robert's palm.
Oh, Betting. He cleared his throat and spoke. "Well? What can we do? Elizabeth kept me going in Columbia. That Booker has nobody to lean on except for a kid, how do I help him out?"
Elizabeth seized Booker's right hand and let out a thought. "What if we just give him money? I-I My powers aren't as strong as they were with the siphon destroyed in Columbia, but I think I can manage giving him money."
Booker's breath caught in a hitch. Robert nodded and Rosalind pondered for a second before letting out a, "I guess we do that, just hide money in his room when he's out drinking? Sure."
Booker caught himself on a desk and he stopped himself before he fell to the ground again.
Elizabeth continued, not paying any mind to Booker. "Well, I can probably get small amounts. I can't pull out a vault, but how much is Booker in debt?" She turned to face her sweating lover.
Booker sighed, "Mob has about two hundred n' fifty thousand that needs to be repaid. Various bars? Fitty kay. Uh, the casinos? At least seventy. My rent? Ten, maybe twelve. Other guy-"
Elizabeth let out a gasp. Both of the twins' eyebrows rose to the ceiling. He closed his eyes. Someone spoke, "Dewitt. We didn't have an exact number. Comstock, he. Uh. He controlled our payroll, I-I god. How'-"
This time Elizabeth spoke. Her voice was quieter. "Booker? That's… how are you not dead? Booker I understand that you needed to retrieve me for debt, but I didn't imagine it to be so high."
Booker opened his eyes and stormed down the hallway. He opened the door and the air wisped around his body. A slight dampness hung around the air. He started off for his apartment.
Why can't they just let sleeping dogs lie? I shoulda spoke up with something else. God. He remembered Annabelle. His steps stopped as he caught his breath.
He switched his mind off and let his body take the reins.
He vaguely remembered himself stumbling into the house and immediately heading to the kitchen. His mind screamed, don't you dare try to use alcohol to try and drown your pain. He staggered and grabbed his temples.
"Stop. Stop. Please, just go away, let me enjoy my life." He spoke to himself. He started sobbing.
He let out a drowned voice, "Annabelle, God. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, i'm s-ssorry. Please, just let me live my life. I'm sorry. God, I'm so sorry." His voice cracked and let out more mutters.
Elizabeth touched his right hand and tried to grip it. Booker pulled away and fell to the floor. "Anna! Leave. Me. Alone. I'm sorry, don't you get it? I regret it! All of it! I should've just let you walk away while you still could."
Rivers flowed down his cheeks and Elizabeth could do nothing but let her Husband drown in his own sorrows. No, what the hell are you thinking Liz? Go and help him.
Booker spoke once more. He screamed, "Kill me already! God. I'm sorry. They came into the house and I needed to protect Anna and... " His voice broke. Yet he continued. He sat on the floor holding onto one of the legs of a stool by their kitchen counter.
"I should've protected you both! I'm sorry they killed you. I couldn't do anything. I wanted them to shoot me dead, begged them to. But that was good enough payment for them. Until I got them money, or until Anna grew up to be their own personal slave."
Elizabeth gasped. She was going to be used, like a toy for the mobsters? Her mother was slaughtered as a result of the debt, Booker was in?
She threw herself at his body. She grasped for his face, pulling him into a sensual kiss. "Booker! Stay with me! Your wife is here, me. Please… please Booker. Don't revert back. Stay with me."
His eyes flew open and he returned her display of affection. His screams of pain subsides to whimpers and stifled sobs. The oceans flowing from his eyes died down to a steady stream.
"Elizabeth? Annabelle, she didn't die in childbirth. I kept using that lie, to keep myself alive. Everyday I brainwashed myself to believe it, just so I wouldn't feel that pain. Worked for a while I guess. I'm not gonna let anything happen to you two."
Elizabeth's head slumped against his chest. Elizabeth's own cries mixed into his and they both spent the night there. Against the kitchen counter, both of their own cries mixing themselves into a song of misery.
Three words kept them both from a complete mental breakdown. I love you. Three words that meant the world. This time, Booker wasn't gonna let anyone hurt his wife, or his kid.