At long last, Chapter 16! I'm so sorry for the wait, I've been busy these past couple of weeks (what with school coming back and all), but I'm here now! Hopefully now that I've balanced out my schedule a little bit, I can deliver the next couple of chapters quicker. Just think, only five or six more to go before we're all done! I'm so excited! Woo! (And a little sad, too...:() As always, thanks to Jared for helping me out when I got stuck, and thanks to Ronin for beta-ing this chapter. Enjoy!

"I couldn't agree more, Tenenbaum. Don't worry, I'll take him down, and you and the girls will be free to do whatever you want. Thanks for the help, I appreciate it."

Tenenbaum smiles sadly. At least someone has their priorities in order, she thinks as she looks out her office window at Elizabeth, who is still silently watching the little ones argue over who gets which doll. She sighs. Maybe I should talk to her again, she thinks, but quickly dismisses the thought. No. Elizabeth needs to figure this out on her own. If she asks for Tenenbaum's help, though, the German scientist is more than happy to give it. "It is no trouble, Herr Jack-" she says, turning around, and then she nearly drops the radio, letting out a small yelp at who she sees.

For a moment, everything is still, the three of them looking at each other in a mix of emotions. Only when Jack makes a small noise on the other end of the radio does Tenenbaum remember that she was in the middle of something before they interrupted. "Entschuldigen Sie, Herr Jack. I'm fine...eh...one of the girls just startled me. Do-do you need anything else?"

A pause. "No, that's it. Thanks again."

"Ja. Bleib sicher, mein Kind." She releases the button, signaling the end of their conversation. She then gives the familiar intruders her full attention, drawing herself up to her full height and reaching behind her for a weapon of some kind, should they try anything...funny.

"You," she manages, still not believing who is standing in front of her now. How did they get in here? she wonders, frowning as she glances at the door. Still locked, she notes, her frown deepening.

"Us," the woman agrees, as stoic and patient as ever (though she does look slightly ruffled, as does her companion). The man, however, looks unsettled, giving his partner a look of unease. "I suppose you know why we've come?"

"I'm afraid not," Tenenbaum answers honestly, still searching for a weapon. "I did what you asked, did I not? You have what you want. Now, please-" Tenenbaum finally grabs ahold of something and grips it tightly. "-go. You do not need me anymore."

"On the contrary," the woman says with a pained smile. She looks at the man, obviously expecting him to continue. The man, however, looks past his partner to look at the small crowd of little girls huddled around each other just outside of Tenenbaum's office, whispering and giggling amongst themselves. He seems to do a double-take when his roaming eyes land on one girl in particular-a blonde girl, about five. Sally, if the scientist remembers her name correctly. Elizabeth is quite fond of her, if the small smile the woman is currently giving the young child is any indication.

"Your charges are quite...adorable, aren't they?" the man comments nonchalantly.

Tenenbaum shifts, ready to bring out her unknown weapon if needs be. "Do not hurt my little ones. They have done nothing wrong-"

"Rest assured, Madame Tenenbaum, we have no interest in your children. Our interest lies with the boy and the girl. You did indeed do what we asked, and for that we are grateful. But," the woman pauses, looking towards her male companion, who is still staring at Sally with a strange look on his face. "We require one more thing from you."

"The truth," the man clarifies, finally tearing his gaze away from the playing youngsters. "About the girl. You must divulge it."

"I-what? What truth?" A confused look crosses Tenenbaum's face before realization dawns upon her. "...Do you mean…"

The lady nods before Tenenbaum can continue. "Yes. If she is to reveal to the boy the truth, then she must know all of it. Otherwise, their...relationship...can never be repaired, and the fate of this universe becomes uncertain once again."

"But why? What is so important about them working together that the fate of the universe is at stake if they are not?"

"I'm afraid we can't tell you that." The man looks apologetic, though his companion does not.

"Why not?"

"Because-"

"Reasons."

Tenenbaum sighs, shaking her head at the two of them. "You two love your secrets, don't you."

"As a fellow scientist, I'm sure you can understand."

Tenenbaum gives the mysterious woman a hard look. "I do. But I would gladly reveal all of my secrets if they would save an innocent's life. Would you?"

The woman only smiles, though the smile is clearly forced. "Tell the girl the truth, or we will have to intervene. And believe me, you do not want that. Good day."

And just like that, they're gone.

Tenenbaum blinks, confused as she looks around the room for any sign of their presence-past or present. She finds nothing, and sighs, shaking her head. She would be sure she had imagined the entire thing were it not for the fact that this has happened before.

She looks out her office window at the girls-no longer huddled up and whisper-giggling, but now drawing on the floor with chalk. She smiles at the sight, but frowns when she sees Elizabeth grab a piece of chalk and join them. She bites her lip as she watches Elizabeth start drawing what looks like the Arc de Triomphe, a strange feeling festering in the pit of her stomach.

They are right, Tenenbaum realizes as she continues observing the scene. Jack is incapacitated at the moment. He needs help, but I am of no use to him-I must stay here and protect the little ones. He needs Elizabeth. But he will not trust her again so easily...but if they are right. If they are right, and Elizabeth does plan on telling Jack the truth, then she must know everything. I must tell her. She sighs, looking away from the scene as Elizabeth smiles at another girl who is attempting to copy her artwork. But now is not the right time. Later, certainly. But...not now.

Not now.

It's cold.

That's the first thing he notices.

The second is that he's not dead.

Jack groans as he open his eyes-and immediately regrets doing so as he shuts his eyes to avoid the too-bright lights. He opens them again after a few moments, though, and sighs.

Well, I'm not dead, he notes again as he takes in the familiar glass doors and the bluish greenish glow of the Vita-Chamber he's currently seated in. Well, more like haphazardly slumped against the wall in, but still. That's good, I suppose.

Wait. I'm not dead.

His eyes widen at the thought, and his hand flies to the back of his head where the Splicer's bullet had hit.

Nothing.

He grins, still not quite believing what is happening as he rubs his fingers over that particular area. "I guess Fontaine was too wrapped up in himself to think about the whole, 'me dying but somehow ending up in a Vita-Chamber so I can be resurrected' thing. Thank God."

He makes to get up, leaning on his leg for support as he tries to grab ahold of the glass doors and use them to pull himself up. After several minutes, he succeeds, managing to stand up on both legs-but quickly realizing that despite his resurrection, his condition is probably still the same. He quickly proves himself right as he nearly topples to the ground, but he catches himself just in time; instead, he bangs his head against the side of the giant glass tube. He groans at the impact, rubbing his head as he leans against the wall.

Well, shit. Alright, so I'm still incapacitated. That's...not good. But why haven't the effects worn off yet? He rubs his hand over his chest absentmindedly, frowning as he remembers the pain from earlier when he had first been hit with Code Yellow's effects. Well, when he first used the phrase, it took a while to spread, but even after it reached my chest, it wore off pretty quick, leaving only my lower torso paralyzed. That should be the case with the rest of it, right? So why is that not the case?

His frown deepens as a sudden, unbidden thought enters his mind: I'll bet Elizabeth would know what to do.

Okay. Stop that. I don't need her here, and I certainly don't want her here. Now shut up, brain, and start thinking of a way out of this mess, now.

He takes a look around, noting that he still seems to be in Olympus Heights-though, not in an area he recognizes…

Or so he thinks.

It's not until he notices a certain charred corpse lying in a puddle not five feet away from him that he realizes that he's in the exact same place as before-only, there's a new body lying not too far away from where Jack Ryan had met his end for the third time. He frowns, wondering whether it was simply another Splicer or something far more sinister that had caused its demise. He doesn't care enough to ponder the question further, however; instead, he looks for the place where his body would have been had someone (Tenenbaum, he guesses) not dragged it into the Vita-Chamber. He finds it rather quickly, and hell, looking at the spot now, he can even see the blood puddle. He cringes as his eyes follow the bloody trail leading from the puddle to the Vita-Chamber doors.

That does not look like it was fun, he thinks, turning away from the gruesome sight. I wonder how Tenenbaum managed to drag me over here? She doesn't look like she has that much strength. But then again…

His mind wanders to a certain someone with dark hair and a faux accent, and he frowns, remembering that he needs to get going before Code Yellow-or, rather, Fontaine, as he's the mastermind pulling the strings-strikes again. Unhelpfully, that's the moment his brain decides to supply him with another image of another someone with dark brown hair and piercing blue eyes, and his frown turns into a look of exasperation as he tries to think about anything else.

...looks can be deceiving.

He sighs, making to get out of the Vita-Chamber. He involuntarily braces himself for the impact of falling on his face once the doors open.

Three...two...one…

If there's an award for massively fucking up the one good thing you have left in your life in less than five seconds, then Elizabeth is sure that she's won it. She sighs, looking around the small sanctuary for the fifth time in two minutes for any sign of-well, she's not sure. She hopes that she can find something to do, though-anything to keep her mind off of her wallow in self-pity and overwhelming guilt.

Sally, Amanda, and Lindsey are still drawing with chalk over by the large window looking into Tenenbaum's office-the window now has a curtain of some sort, blocking most of the inside from view. From what Elizabeth can see, Tenenbaum is pacing back and forth while an ex-Little Sister follows her, mimicking her motions. Elizabeth smiles a little at the sight, watching as the little girl raises her arms and flails them about wildly, speaking loud gibberish in an attempt to copy the scientist's native language.

Tessa, Margaret, and Adelaide are over by the Little Sister Vent, chatting away about-surprisingly-the surface. Apparently, Adelaide has heard Mama Tenenbaum talking about the place, and thinks it sounds marvelous. She seems to be trying to convince the others that it's not as bad as the people of Rapture have made it sound, and they seem to be buying it. Adelaide has a book open on her lap as she sits on the vent, and answers the other girls' questions with a determined spark in her eyes that Elizabeth has seen before-but she quickly distracts herself before she can think about where.

Masha, Leta, and Emma are all in the corner opposite of Elizabeth, playing with their dolls. Various noises have come from that corner in the past hour; exaggerated explosions, quiet screaming, and a few words that Elizabeth is sure they probably heard from her, which only adds to her guilt, but she ignores that bit. From what she's heard, it sounds like "Rhys" and "Fiona" are trying to find a treasure of some sort, but are being chased by numerous bad guys. She smiles as she watches them play, remembering the countless scenarios she had put her own dolls in when she had been younger and wishing that she could go back to that; to a time when things were simpler and the only thing on Elizabeth's mind was Paris and freedom.

But she'll never be free. She's never been free.

She sighs, turning away from the girls and burying her face in her knees again. She doesn't want to think right now-she hasn't been thinking for the past hour, she reminds herself, but quickly brushes the thought aside as she takes a deep breath. After a few more minutes of quiet contemplation, she finally lets her thoughts take over, preparing for the worst.

"I'm not Comstock. I'm not. I'm...I'm nothing like him. I'm nothing like him!"

Liar.

She knows she had lied, had only said those words to convince herself. All of the lies, the secrets-everything she is now is everything she had hated in Comstock.

She's become him. The monster that tore apart the DeWitt family, that murdered the Luteces, that oppressed the colored people of Columbia-Elizabeth is him. The man who had had her locked up, groomed to become just like him...well, he had succeeded, hadn't he? She thought she had defied him. She thought that she-they-had defeated him. But even after she had killed the last trace of him-perhaps even because of it-she had become the liar and murderer he had wanted her to be. The only difference was that she had been doing it to help herself, and not Comstock...but even Comstock had been doing it for himself, hadn't he? That burning fire she feels right now, deep inside her chest, isn't for Comstock-it's for herself. She's exactly like him. Everything she has done up to this point-the killing, the lies-it's all him. Everything she has done to protect herself and maintain a fake persona, keep up the illusion that she's someone she's not, is exactly what she had hated in Comstock. The man who had done this to her-to Booker and Anna DeWitt and the Luteces-is the person she's become, and she hates it.

She hates it, almost as much as she hates him. She hates that she has become everything she hated. She can barely remember the time when she couldn't stand the thought of murder, of falsehoods; before she had been thrusted into a world full of so much of it. Before...

Before Booker DeWitt.

She remembers when she had first seen him kill. She had been terrified, angry, disgusted-she had been so naive then, to think that it wouldn't end in blood. She remembers later, when she had committed her first murder-the first of dozens to come. She had been horrified at what she'd done-she remembers thinking that she was a monster...just like Booker. But he had been there; not to seek revenge, not to save his own life, but to comfort her. He had told her everything would be fine. He had told her they were going to Paris, and they were leaving Columbia behind, for good; though, he hadn't said it in words. It was more of an unspoken reassurance, one that Elizabeth had foolishly taken great comfort in. The conversation plays out in her head like an old record-one she's heard many, many times before:

"How do you do it?"

"How do I do what?"

"Forget. How do you wash away the things that you've done?"

"You don't. You just learn to live with it."

God, she still remembers the sound of his voice. Elizabeth is about to break completely, and this time, there will be no going back.

She can't do this.

She can't do this.

She can't do this.

But she has to. She knows she has to, and yet-

What am I supposed to do?

She can't go on. Her spirit is broken. She's lost hope; in herself, in the world-

What would Booker do?

The question catches her off guard; but it also makes her stop and think for a moment. What would Booker do in this situation?

Her father had screwed up, big time. He had drunk and gambled until there was nothing left, and when he was offered an out he took it-he sold his only child to complete strangers without a second thought. He sentenced her to a life full of people who wouldn't care-who wouldn't care about her, only the power she possessed.

I guess screwing up runs in the family, she thinks bitterly.

At the thought, she stops, her heart beginning to race.

It's happening all over again, isn't it?

A mistake.

A guilty conscience.

A supposedly heroic sacrifice.

It's happening all over again.

I guess I really am my father's daughter.

But Booker had never given up.

As soon as he was offered a chance at redemption, he took it, and he never stopped until he had atoned for his sins. He had never given up on her. He had never given up on trying to make things right, even though it was impossible to undo what had happened. Even though he could never undo what he had put her through.

And in the end, he had done just that, hadn't he? He had given his life to erase the mistakes he made, and every universe had felt the ripples of his actions.

Despite the mistakes, despite the murders and the lies, Elizabeth had forgiven him. He had been there when nobody else was. He had protected her when nobody else would. And at the end of it all, he had been real, when nothing else was.

That was the kind of man Booker DeWitt had been. The kind of man her father had been.

So who is she?

Elizabeth looks down at the shortwave radio still attached to her hip, biting her lip nervously as she unclips it from her side. She brings it to her face, contemplating whether or not she should-or whether she can-do this.

Well, she thinks, looking around to make sure she's mostly alone before pressing the button, Only one way to find out.