AN: I want to thank everyone for reading my first chapter. It means a lot that people are even interested in reading my stuff. Anyways, I'm sorry that this took so long to get out, but I had midterms which sadly, is more important than writing fanfiction. I probably won't be actively writing this until I get off of school in three weeks. Once summer is here, I hope to spend a lot more time on this story and maybe pop out a chapter daily, or at the least, every other day. So, basically I skipped to the end. I apologize that there aren't more Columbia scenes. I guess if people really want them I can write in flashbacks, but the first chapter seemed like a fine base to start this off with. Now, this chapter was supposed to be a lot longer, but I currently don't have the time to write more and I wanted to give you guys something instead of leaving you waiting for another week. This is only half of the alternate ending. I will continue writing the rest in the next chapter. I'm sorry if you don't like where this is going. Bioshock Infinite has a really complicated ending. It took me two days just to plot and summarize out an idea for an alternate ending. I wanted to pull away from the whole Booker and Elizabeth being related thing, but without completely butchering the ending. Yes, it's still kind of weird, but at least they won't be related and I still have a few loophole ideas to direct their relationship towards a more romantic perspective. I tried. It wasn't easy rewriting the ending, so please, give me some credit. Thanks and enjoy, hopefully!

AsozMania: Thanks, I'm glad you liked it! :)

Lone Reaper-068: Thank you so much. I apologize for the long wait.

Miss Lynxx: I really hope so. Thanks!

Dreamsong83: Why thank you. Let me tell you, doing an alternate ending for this game was the hardest thing I've ever written. Lol. I hope you like it.

Guest: I know what I'm doing. It's rated M for later chapters incase of smut. So, unless I change my mind on adding that in, the rating stays as is.

Guest: As you wish! :p

The wooden door of the lighthouse beckoned for Booker. An eerie feeling crept over his being as he approached it. Deep down, Booker knew that there was something odd about all of this. He couldn't quite place his finger on what it was that bothered him, but he prepared for any surprises that may wait for him beyond the passage. With a final glance, he noted Elizabeth's oddly relaxed and thoughtful posture. There was a look of expectancy in her eyes. She knew what it was that they would be walking into. The fact that she wouldn't say anything about it to Booker, chilled him to the bone. How bad was it? Booker would just have to find out himself.

He was breathing profoundly, his heart thudding violently into his chest cavity, droplets of fluid sat at his hairline. A shaky hand flattened against the wood and forced the entrance open. Warm sunlight streamed through and rested upon Booker's face. Taking a second to let his eyes adjust to the light, his familiar surroundings were revealed to him. He gasped once the scene had set in.

"Wait a minute. I know this place." Booker staggered his words in disbelief. His eyes fixated on the circle of men that gathered around a priest in the center of the creek. The water was surrounded with a very familiar verdant environment. Booker deliberately turned his head to Elizabeth, who now stood a few feet in front of him. "I was here..." He continued. "Twenty years ago, right after wounded knee. I-I was looking for.."

"Come on now, times a-wasting!" The priest exclaimed, his hands gesturing joyously. Booker narrowed his eyes at the priest. He remembered this. It was all coming back to him now. Every moment of it hit him like a train and yet, he couldn't really grasp the reason for why he was there. What was the point of all of this?

"Why were you here?" Elizabeth spoke calmly, her dazzling gaze on the group of men. Booker didn't reply. He was too bewildered by the happening in front of him.

"Are you ready to have your past erased? Are you ready to have your sins cleansed? Are you ready to be born again? Take my hand." The holy men extended his hand to Booker, motioning him forward. Booker obliged and approached the figure, stopping just a foot away from him now. They almost met grasps until Booker retracted and shook his head. What was the point? It wouldn't fix anything. There was no option for redemption, or so he thought. How would some bath in the river help Booker in any way?

"No, no I don't want too." Worry filled his voice as he replied.

"But he already did." Elizabeth whispered.

Booker's eyebrows knitted together in confusion. What in god's name was she talking about? "He"? Was she mentioning Booker or referring to someone else?

Dazed and lost in a muddled state, Booker let the forceful waters push him towards the man with the outstretched hand. It almost looked inviting, yet ridiculous.

"Are you ready to be born again?" The priest was gesturing profusely. His energy exceeded that of a normal man. It caught Booker completely off guard.

Hazily, Booker took the man's hand and replied in a soft manner. "I am."

"Do you hate your sins?" The priest continued.

"I do." Booker had just barley managed a whisper.

"Do you hate your wickedness?" A pair of gray eyes burned holes into Booker's.

"Yes." Booker mindlessly replied. Although he was unsure as to why he was playing along, he knew that deep down, he truly hated his sins.

"Do you want to clean the slate? Leave behind all you were before and be born again in the blood of the lamb!" He shouted the last line, the tips of his fingers raised to the almighty above.

"Yes." Booker hissed, irritated. Sense started to return to him. What did he think he was doing? This was ludicrous. A baptism wasn't going to solve his problems. It wasn't going to pay off his debt, or bring his family back, or even provide him with a single ounce of contentment.

"Jesus, wash this man clean. Father.."

"Wait." Booker tried to writhe himself free of the priest's grasp. "Stop." Anger rose in his voice and he shoved the priest away. The man persisted and tried to grab Booker who pushed through the group of men. "Stop it! Get off of me!"

Swinging around, he prepared to defend himself from the group, but instead found Elizabeth to be the one clutching his hand.

"You didn't go through with it." Her head was tilted back to gain a better view of him. There was something terribly uneasy about her stare. Elizabeth's hand clutched his firmly and she guided him over to a grassy island centered in the creek.

"You think a dunk in the river is going to change the things I've done?" Booker snapped. He didn't bother holding his frustration from her. All he wanted was to get out of the there. Why couldn't she just open up a tear to Paris or someplace safe and be done with this whole thing? Booker was ready to complain some more, but Elizabeth interrupted him before he could.

"You may not have accepted the Baptism, but he did." Her hand was stretched in the direction they had wandered from.

Booker moved his attention over to where she was pointing. Confusion washed over his face. A familiar looking man stepped away from the circle, accepting the priest's hand. The man's eyes were filled with sorrow, but a look of enlightenment replaced it. His tousled brown hair was engulfed with the dark liquid as the priest gently submerged him underwater. "I think.. I remember him. I didn't quite catch his name though."

"Johnathan." The name came out in a sigh. There was a sadness to the way she said it. "Johnathan Harold Wells".

"I-I don't understand. What does this have to do with anything?!" Booker growled. The veins in his arms were protruding from the stress. He received an empty stare from Elizabeth, who was pulling him away again. "Let's get out of here." Booker was practically pleading. "These doors of yours, they're all tears, right? Well, open one up." He flung his hand in front of him, his brows furrowing with eagerness. "Open one up to Paris. I want to be done with all of this." It was a simple solution. They could go wherever they would like; this chaotic adventure could end. Maybe, just maybe, they could even start a life together. Booker figured that may be asking too much, but still, there should be no reason for door hopping into his past.

Elizabeth slowly shook her head. "Not until we find Comstock." She tugged on his hand, urging him over to an uncanny shed.

"Comstock is dead!" The boom of his voice displayed his rage. Enough was enough. He didn't want to play games anymore. Using all of his force, he ripped his hand from her small one.

"No." She caught his hand, her eyes capturing his. "He was here." A bleak tone lingered with her words. "This way." She motioned to the shed.

With a defeated sigh, Booker followed her. The affect this woman had on him. Gritting his teeth, he pushed open the door of the shed, wanting nothing more than to get this goose chase over with.

The temperature dropped, the light had dimmed exceedingly and the softest sound of what Booker made out to be a music box was flowing through the room. The familiar sent of musk filled his nostrils. Dust particles danced around in the thin stream of light from the window. He immediately recognized the bland, uninteresting wallpaper that adorned the gloomy room. His body tensed when he noticed the man standing across the room.

"Bring us the girl...and wipe away the debt." He knew both that voice and those words all too well. It haunted him everyday.

He hesitantly turned to face Elizabeth. Sorrow and guilt settled on his face. "This is the man who hired me to find you."

"Really?" She asked unconvinced. Elizabeth was very circumspect about responding to anything he might have to say. She wanted him to put the puzzle peices together. He had to. It was only fair that he find out the truth by his own awakening.

Booker was a little thrown off by her tone. "Yes." He murmured. "The girl for the dept..."

Elizabeth never peeled her eyes from him. Instead, she waited. So did the man across the room. They were both waiting for Booker, expecting something specific from him. He caught on to this. Knowing that they wouldn't tell him if he asked, Booker decided to find out for himself. Honestly, he feared the answer.

With a heavy sigh, Booker dragged his feet over to Elizabeth. She was stationed beside the bedroom door. The music box must have been coming from there. Along with the music, there was the sound of something cooing. 'No..It can't be.' Booker thought to himself. He held his breath and opened the door, his movements were slow and quiet. The cooing came from a crib that sat beneath the single window in the room. Suddenly, Booker could feel a dry bulge in his throat.

"Wait, wait, this is wrong." His words had barley made it out past his lips. "Who is this? There was no...there was no baby..." Booker turned around to confront Elizabeth. Instead, he was met with the man that had hired him. Except, that man was Robert Lutece. How could it be? Was it possible that he was the one that hired him? Something didn't add up. Booker's head was flooded with false memories and new perspectives. What in the hell was going on... "I remember...no...there was no baby and if there was, I sure as hell wouldn't give it over to this guy."

"Booker." She tried to calm him. Pity molded her features. "You don't leave this room, until you do." Now, now he can understand. She could make him see the truth, even if it meant making him relive the past.

"Mr. Dewitt, Time is running short." Robert informed him.

Booker shook his head, fighting back tears that threatened to spill over. What nonsense all of this was.

"Bring us the girl and wipe away the debt." Robert's words sent a sharp stab of pain through Booker's chest.

Inhaling deeply, Booker proceeded to do as he was told. Carefully, his hands scooped up the fragile child. Those big blue eyes stared back at him. The warmth of the child was something he wanted to cherish.

"Go on." Elizabeth urged.

"No." Booker choked. He didn't want too, he couldn't. His eyes peeked up through his lashes to catch a glimpse of Elizabeth in front of him.

"You can wait as long as you want too, eventually you'll give him what he wants." She crossed her arms, waiting for him to finish what had been started.

Booker looked at her in complete disbelief. "How do you know all of this?"

Something lit up in her eyes. She was impressed with herself, with what she knew. "I can see all the doors and what's behind all the doors...and behind one of them, I see him."

"Comstock." Booker muttered under his breath. In another universe, that bastard was still alive. But what connection did it have with Booker? None of this made sense.

Like a lost child captured within a perplexed situation, Booker felt like running. Unfortunately, he had nowhere to go. Elizabeth was his only guide. There was only one option.

Facing Robert, Booker had a devastated look about him. He took one good glance at the rosy cheeked, child before handing her over to the Lutece twin. "What choice do I have?"

Robert took the child in his arms and gave Booker a courtesy nod. "The debt is payed. Mr. Comstock washes you of all your sins." The door slammed in Booker's face.

Frantically, Booker yanked it open. Water splashed the side of his cheek, reminding him that he was no longer in his apartment. Thunder roared over head; a crack of light far off in the distance had caught Booker's attention. He let his eyes and mind adjust. His hand patted the seat of the boat, remembering his arrival in Columbia. The movement of the boat had momentarily calmed him down.

"Bring us the girl and wipe away the debt." Elizabeth glared at him, her arms sealed tightly across her chest.

Booker blinked. She was trying to prove a point. He struggled with making sense of it all.

"There was no baby!" He was still in denial. Arguing seemed like the only defense he had left to protect his sanity. "The deal was, I go to Columbia to get you." Booker flinched, his vision going black for a moment.

Elizabeth tilted her head, concern peeking through her dark expression. "Booker, you're bleeding."

"No." He uttered, his fingers dabbing away at his bloody nose. "I remember...I-I remember..."

"Now we've upset him." Robert spoke as he began to slow his rowing, the boat pulling over to the dock.

"I don't expect this next bit to do much for his mood." Rosalind responded.

"Come on." Elizabeth gestured for the dock's ladder.

Booker climbed up and prepared to offer his hand to help her. Noticing that she was no longer seated in the boat, he flashed his eyes about. She appeared on the dock, already heading for the light house. Booker was still curious as to how she did that.

"What are we doing here?" Booker questioned, tired and unamused. "Comstock's dead, we can just go on with our lives. You don't need to-"

"Dead?" She came to an abrupt stop, facing him with a look of disapproval.

Booker frowned at her disheveled appearance. Such a beautiful girl and yet she looked like she had been through hell, emotionally and physically. His mind wandered only for a second. He pictured that all of this had ended. The city of Paris lived vividly in his mind. The two of them could be there now, happy. But no, instead he was stuck in this never ending nightmare. The coming lecture that Elizabeth was about to give, called him back to reality.

"You mean like Chen Lin, like Lady Comstock? No. He is alive in a million, million worlds. It's not over because the prophet is dead. It will only be over when he never even lived in the first place." Turning on her heel, she started for the lighthouse again.

Booker swallowed hard. Maybe it would be better if he just stayed quiet and played along. Quickly, he caught up to speed, following beside her.

When they reached the door, Booker didn't hesitate to open it. His body froze in shock at the unraveling scene before him. It was Robert and Comstock with the child. They were getting away. No, Booker wouldn't allow it.

"Hey!" He shouted. Sprinting down the alley, he reached out in their direction. "Hey, the deal is off, you hear me?!"

They ignored him. Robert was staring into an open tear, yelling back at his sister.

"It seems rather unstable." Robert shook his head, his sister speaking back. Her words muffled within the tear.

"The deal is off!" Booker screamed at them as he closed in.

Their words were washed out with Booker's cries. "Give her back!" He shouted. "Giver her back!"

Booker grabbed Comstock's arm, tugging it violently. "Give her back you son of a bitch!" His eyes latched on to the girl, desperate to snatch her away.

"It's ready, go!" Rosalind yelled from the other side. Robert hurriedly jumped into the tear. Comstock attempted to leap in, but was yanked back by Booker.

Booker lost his grip for a second which was just enough time for Comstock to get half way into the tear. Booker reached out and clutched the baby, using all of his force to pull her back to safety. "No, no no!" He cried, his hand held a death grip on Comstock's arm. That bastard can't take her. Booker wouldn't let him.

"Shut down the machine!" Comstock demanded. A gasp escaping him as he fought over the child.

"No, Anna!" Booker tried to wrap his hands around her, but to no avail.

"Shut it down! Shut down the machine now! Do it!" Comstock barked at Rosalind who fiddled with the machine's controls.

"Give me back my daughter!" The force of Booker's voice blared down the alley. He gave one final tug of his arms, but it was too late. The little girl stretched her hand out just as she was being pulled into the tear.

"No!" A hurt cry rippled from Booker's throat. Both of his hands in need of saving the little girl. His palms met with the cold hard bricks, where the tear had once been. The little girl's pinky had been sliced off as the tear closed, that being all that was left behind. Booker felt tears pour over his cheeks, his body pressing against the wall. "Anna." He sobbed. Everything around him went white, a high humming sound danced around his ears. His distraught state had him shaking, unaware of what was happening. "Anna, no."

"I'm not your daughter." The voice was right beside him, yet is was faded.

Opening his eyes, Booker found himself being shoved around by hoards of people.

"Exscuse me." A small nun holding a bedpan was beside him. Booker clumsily moved to the side, allowing her to pass by. He looked up, catching sight of a large metal plate above a veiwing window. It read St. Vincent's Hospital of Manhatten.

"I-I don't understand. What are we doing here?" He muttered precariously.

"You don't remember?" Elizabeth's warm breath hit his ear lobe, causing the hairs on the back of his neck to shoot straight up. "Let me show you." She took his hand, guiding him over to the viewing window. Booker lumbered along.

Inside, doctors and attendants gathered around the woman who laid on the table. A priest was standing beside this woman, praying for her, his hand hovering above her large, swollen belly. One of the nuns moved, reveiling the face of this female. Booker recolid at the sight. Those emerald eyes looked up in his direction only to shut in pain. An acerbic scream escaped the colorless lips of this lady. Sudden memories pooled within Booker's mind. Then it clicked. "Lydia." He spoke the name almost as if it were forbidden to say.

"Your wife, she was beautful." Elizabeth watched the scene before them. Her hand squeezed Booker's with anticipation, preparing him for the worst. She glanced at him with sympathy, water gathered in her own eyes. "I'm so sorry."

"What? What do you mean you're sorry?" Booker's question was soon answered.

The doctors were yelling, giving orders to the attendants. People rushed around the room, the priest shaking his head in grief.

"No, what's going on? What's happening? Lydia. Lydia!" Booker slammed his fist against the glass, his heart racing.

"You already know what happened." Elizabeth squinted her eyes. Paitently, she waited for him to make sense of it.

One of the nuns had a panicked look on her face, holding Lydia's legs apart. Pulling her blood ridden hands away, the nun looked up, her head shaking at the surgeon.

"We have to cut her open." Someone spoke.

An older, wiser looking nun hurried in with a tray of tools. The surgeon grabbed a lancet, waving his hand behind him. The nun noticed the signal and moved over to the viewing window, pulling the curtains shut.

"No, damn it!" Booker shouted, his fists repeatedly slamming against the glass. "We have to get in there now!"

"Lydia is gone, Booker. She didn't survive the procedure." Elizabeth enunciated every word. She couldn't make it an clearer.

"No, no, no, Lydia." He sobbed, the tears returned, staining his cheeks. Booker burried his face in his hands, leaning againts the glass window. He let himself slide down to the ground, choking out sobs every now and then.

It pained Elizabeth to see him like this. She didn't want to hurt him anymore, but it had to be done. "Booker.."

Booker snapped his head up, at the woman before him. The woman he cared so deeply for in an unholy way. It made sense. She was Anna, Lydia was her mother, and Booker, he was living a lie. His entire life was a complete lie. So many emotions surged through his body to the point of it being overwhelming. "I'm so sorry, Anna. I'm sorry, for everything. I failed you when you needed me most. And your mother-" He floundered with his own words. "I wasn't there for her. She slipped away and I-"

"Booker." She stopped him, her brows scrunched together. He was starting to catch on, but he still had the wrong idea. "Anna didn't make it either."

"W-what?" Booker blinked, bewildered. "But you-"

Elizabeth shook his head. "Both your wife and the baby died."

"That can't be. I remember now, you survived, they handed you to me." He could feel his sanity slipping away. Nothing, aboslutely nothing made sense anymore.

"I survived, Anna did not." Elizabeth slipped a finger under his chin, guiding him up off the ground.

Suddenly, they were in front of a different viewing window. Standing only a few feet away was that same man from the creek, his face flushed and wet from endless crying. Booker raised a brow at the man. "Him again?" He turned to Elizabeth.

"Johnathan." She whispered. "He too had a wife giving birth on the day of yours." Elizabeth faced the window just as a nun pulled the curtains away. Another nun was dragging a white sheet over the body of pale, brown haired woman. "That's my mother." Elizabeth planted her hand against the glass, gazing in. A single tear spilled over her cheek. "She didn't even get to hold me. Her heart failed during delivery."

Booker was frozen, an unmoving statue, slowly absorbing the sudden impact of information. He almost couldn't believe this. If he didn't know any better, he would say that he was dreaming, or in this case having a nightmare.

"These places of faith, aren't always faithful. They can be deceiving. Some people that claim to worship god, aren't who you think they are. Greed and lies have always been a part of human nature. In this case, money was what made out in the end." It was like Elizabeth was speaking to some unseen force. Her mind had been in a far away place, seeing; she could see everything. "Before your debt, you and your wife maintained a fair amount of wealth, more than the gentleman beside you."

Booker opened his mouth. Nothing but air made it's way out. His glances switched from Elizabeth to the unmoving Johnathan fellow. It was all starting to make sense now. A pain grew in his abdomen as he came to his realization. He was lied too, played for a fool. Booker lived off of memories that weren't even real. His real life had been washed away into the depths of his own head.

"Mr. Dewitt." An unusually cheerful voice echoed down the hall.

Booker spun around to investigate the voice. The older nun from Lydia's room flitted down the hall, holding a bundled up baby. A warm smile was placed on the nun's face.

"Congratulations, Mr. Dewitt. It's a baby girl." She closed in on Booker, her arms passing the child over to him.

"Anna." He mumbled, staring down at the tiny newborn who pawed at him.

"No. Not, Anna." Elizabeth reassured him from behind.

The nun cleared her throat and her smile quickly faded. "I'm afraid that I have some terrible news about your wife." She spoke gravely.

There was a bright flash of light and the nun, the hospital, Johnathan; all of it was gone. Elizabeth and Booker were now back in his dirty little apartment. His arms were now empty. "Anna." He whispered once more.

"She's gone, Booker. Anna is gone." She reminded him.

Booker let his eyes drop down to the brand on his hand. AD, Anna Dewitt...

"Lydia is gone. You lost them both that day and instead, came home with a lie. The death of your wife placed you in a deep depression, then when you had to give your daughter up, it shattered you. You didn't even know that your daughter was really dead." Elizabeth strolled across the room, carefully observing everything as she spoke.

Booker silently watched her, listening. Elizabeth puckered her lips together. She knew it was a lot for him to take in, but it had to be said.

"Comstock eventually discovered his own truth. After he created Columbia, he got his hands on the files from the hospital. He discovered me." She stopped and leaned in against one of the walls. "Your dept was the perfect excuse. A man came to your door and offered to wipe away your debt for another price. For almost 20 years, you lived in regret." Her voice cracked, but she continued anyway. "Until one day, that same man came to you, offered you a chance at redemption, a chance to fix it all."