AN: this fic just went up another thousand in views. i know that probably doesnt mean much but it means a lot to me that people are reading my fic! man and before i was excited about 400+ views when we hit 21k. lol.
in other news, i got an interesting review on this fic and im relatively sure the person did not read the same fanfic i've been writing lmao
sorry for a late update, by the way! was busy with rl stuff. school, yearbook, hanging out with my parents that weren't around when i was younger :^) that kind of stuff.
SPOILER WARNING: spoilers for burial at sea are abound. you have been warned. granted, you probably already played/watched it. just in case, thats all.
SMALL warning for self-harm. it's non-graphic and while not taken lightly, it is not in the manner you expect.
also thank you so much to Wild Birdie, my new beta! she will be reviewing this chapter and any after this one!
Rapture. No men, no gods, only monsters.
Booker had done his research, of course. He wasn't going in blind. He didn't like Rapture. He didn't like what they did to children. He aimed to change that. He wouldn't take it. No children twisted into demons, no prisoners molded into their protectors. He would do what it takes to save every last child.
He arrived in a bathroom and slipped on his invisibility cloak. First things first, he needed some new clothes.
Fifteen minutes later, he was trashing his old clothing and shoving the cloak in his pocket with his wand.
He was dressed rather sharply, if he may say so himself. He wore a blue button-up shirt with a striped tie and a grey vest with a matching pair of pants. He looked like a young man on the way to a job interview or something. At least, he hoped so. He was still thirteen. He didn't quite look it, looking slightly older, but it was no matter.
First things first, he had to meet with Tenenbaum. Best bet was with the Little Sisters, who were mostly in Fontaine Industries.
He ignored the various celebrations going on. It seemed it was New Years, judging by the cocktail dresses and coattails he saw around every corner.
Wait, wasn't the new year of 1959 important in some way?
Then the world exploded.
As water poured in, Booker felt panic... then fear... then nothing.
He awoke, soaking, on a rough wooden floor, surrounded by young girls. Upon seeing him awaken, they dashed away, giggling.
"Mama Tenenbaum!" one of the girls called. "He's awake!"
"Just a moment," an accented voice replied. Just the woman he was looking for, it would seem.
The scientist entered the room with her arms full of various vials.
"Goodness, I was sure you were dead. Your name is DeWitt, yes?"
"Yes, ma'am," Booker replied ignoring his headrush as he sat up. "Please, call me Harry."
"Very well, Harry. I am Doctor Tenenbaum. I was contacted earlier by a pair known as the Lutece Twins. They have informed me that you wish to save the children."
Booker nodded.
"Then you will need these plasmids," she said, gently dropping the vials on his lap. "This will give the the ability to cure the girls of their affliction. I've been making many in the hopes that more than one person would help me, but so far... I've only found you."
"Will I only need the one, or do I need to take it each time I find a girl?" Booker asked, still shivering slightly from the cold water.
"Just the one time, Harry. I have also been asked to provide you with weaponry, but I am hesitant to send you out there."
He raised an eyebrow, silently asking why.
"You're so... so young," Tenebaum whispered, brushing a stray strand of hair out of his face. "I do not wish to risk any more children."
"I know my way around a brawl," he replied. "Let me do this for them. Let me save them."
The woman sighed, and Booker noticed the bags under her eyes, the way her face hung low, the gray hairs wisping about her hairline. This whole debacle was definitely getting to her.
"... very well."
She handed him a pistol and a switchblade, and sent him on his way.
There was one girl in particular he was looking for. French. Blonde. Sally.
He couldn't... he couldn't remember where she came from, how he knew her. All he knew was that he owed it to her to save her.
Rapture was familiar, in a way. He felt like he should know these walls, deep beneath the sea.
He found this underwater city's version of a skyhook, called an airgrabber, which was a considerably worse name. He found bodies with faces he knew from somewhere in his foggiest memories. When he tasted the scent of splicers' blood, flashes of things he knew he should remember flooded his mind.
It was all too confusing, but it felt... right.
He lost track of the amount of times he got shot, hit, stabbed, and mauled. The wounds would sting as they healed far too quickly to be possible, and he blamed magic. Then, of course, he had to wonder.
He had survived turning into a human bomb. He had survived hundreds of splicers and Big Daddies. He survived near starvation in his early "youth".
Was he... actually immortal?
The theory was out of this world, but when he next took a rest, he took a knife to his neck. The blood poured down his front, but the wound healed like any other would, and Booker stared in a foggy mirror, horrified at this realization.
What on earth was he?
The difficulty in saving Little Sisters was only topped by the difficulty of finding them. The girls were shy. They didn't want to hang out with an old soul like him, and more often than not, they would be scared. He had just killed their Big Daddy and was coated in blood.
Of course, little girls do not like the look of a man who looked like a butcher. They screamed and ran for the vent holes, and Booker hated to get rough with them, but as long as he saved them he counted it as a necessity. The girls were quick little ankle-biters, but his Undertow was faster. They weren't any less scared when cured, but at least they thanked him and went off to Tenenbaum when he told them to.
It didn't make it hurt any less. To be feared was a terrible thing.
It was even worse when he found her.
Sally.
She had migrated to Arcadia, with a Rosie and it was as difficult as always to get her away from the Big Daddy.
But when he touched her, held her head in his hands and cured her, memory flooded his brain.
How he forgot her. How he just left her. How he looked for her, then gave up. Elizabeth came, made him right his wrongs, and betrayed him.
The phantom pain of a drill going through his middle sent shivers down his spine, but Sally was here, and she wasn't running.
"Monsieur DeWitt," she whispered in reverence. "You came for me?"
"Always, Sally," he promised, and for a moment, everything was alright.
After finding Sally, she led him to the last person he wanted to see. The sting of betrayal had yet to sting, but he needed to see her.
The corpse lay against one of the many glass walls of the underwater city, the blood dried and skin rotting.
"Hey Elizabeth," he said, kneeling. Sally stood behind him, a small hand comfortingly placed on his back.
Of course, there was no response.
"I'm, well. Not very happy with you. You've started going down a pretty dark path. I can only hope you've learned to stop."
"What do you mean, Monsieur DeWitt?" Sally asked.
"It's a long story, Sally."
"I love stories, Monsieur DeWitt."
"Not this one. Go back to Tenenbaum for a bit alright?"
She obeyed, giving him a curious look as she left.
Booker looked back at the corpse of his daughter, feeling as though he was at fault. Had he been a better man… had he actually raised her, would she have turned out like this? A hunter with an endless pool of targets? There was no true way to get rid of Comstock. For every universe he died, there was another where he didn't. She would never rest if she continued on this path.
Booker sighed, picking up his gun and standing up.
"Goodbye, Anna."
He took her pendant as a reminder and left.
Dobby was, as always, attentive and obedient. When Booker sent the signal through Suchong's tear machine, the house-elf opened up the tear, and Booker was back home. Tenenbaum took the girls to the surface, made an orphanage for the girls, and with a heavy heart, Booker bid goodbye to his darling Sally.
Dobby told him it had only been a few hours, and proceeded to fuss all over him, his wounds and torn clothing, shining his shoes and cutting his hair.
"Master Harry Potter sir must keep better care of himself! Look at this! Why, Dobby has never seen anything worse - look at this tear! What happened here, hm?"
With a grin, he replied honestly. "I was attacked with a machete. And I've told you a million times, don't call me Master."
Dobby just shook his head in disapproval and mended the suit with a quick bit of magic.
"Dobby will have to scrub all night to get these stains out," the house-elf said with a hmph.
"My bad, Dobby. I'll get you some new socks soon."
"Harry Potter better!"
Dear Harry,
I've been wondering if you would like to meet my family. Ever since you saved my life in first year, they've been begging me to send you a message like this, so here I am, writing to you.
Please meet us in London on the 23rd of July for lunch at Julius' Banquet.
Sincerely,
Hermione
Booker looked up the restaurant and found it fancy enough to warrant wearing his newly mended suit. Thank Dobby's incredible cleaning skills.
He showed up early, and was surprised by Hermione's new braces.
"Don't say it," she said with a frown.
"Say what?"
"I look like a beaver."
"You don't?"
She refused to believe him, and introduced him to her parents.
"Sorry grandma isn't here, her back was hurting today. This is my father, Devon Granger, and this is my mother, Sally Granger."
Booker looked at the woman with a curious look. Blonde hair, pulled into a high bun. Blue eyes behind a pair of glasses. The baby fat was replaced with wrinkles of age, but it was there.
It was his little girl. Sally.
She gave him a wink and urged Hermione into the restaurant, a faint French accent on her lips.
The food was delicious, and lunch was a quick affair. He ate a buffalo steak with a white wine sauce and a side of asparagus.
It was after the dinner that Sally asked to speak with him alone.
They went to a corner of the restaurant and she hugged him quickly.
"Booker…"
"Sally…"
"I had always thought I would never see you again. The father I wished I knew better."
"I'm sorry I wasn't there for you, Sally. I hope Tenenbaum treated you well."
"Oh, don't worry about that," the woman said as she pulled away. "I was adopted pretty early on. My mother, Anna, raised me well."
"That's good to hear," he replied. "Should we get back to the table?"
"No, not yet. My husband wants to speak with you for just a moment."
The parents traded places, and Booker stood before a tall dark-skinned man with the deepest laugh lines he had ever seen. The man obviously had a good life to be smiling like that.
"I'd like to start by saying thank you," Devon said, shaking Booker's hand. "Without you, my little girl would not be here anymore. We had considered pulling her out of the school, but she insisted on staying because she was friends with you, and you saved her again this past year."
"She's been one of my greatest friends," Booker replied, honesty coloring his voice. "One of my first friends, in fact. Hermione has been as much a lifesaver to me as I was to her."
Devon gave him another brilliant smile. Had Booker leaned that way, he would've blushed.
"I'm just glad she has such a good friend. Let's get back to the table for dessert, shall we?"
Hermione's house was a regular townhouse, with two floors and three bedrooms.
Booker had not been expecting to see an old, wrinkled Elizabeth, seated in the drawing room, knitting what seemed to be a tea cozie.
"Oh hello!" she exclaimed, rising to give him a hug. "You must be Harry."
"Yes, that's me," he replied.
"We'll talk soon," she whispered. Then she turned to her granddaughter. "Hermione, dear, go help your parents with the tea, I would like to talk to Harry alone."
With a confused look, the girl disappeared into the kitchen, and Booker sat down, grasping the woman's hand.
"Elizabeth… no, Anna."
"It's been so long, Booker. I haven't seen you in several years."
"I haven't seen you in over a decade. Anna, you're alternate self is-"
"I know." The woman picked up her knitting again and began once more. "And who do you think stopped me?"
"... Sally?"
"No, silly," she said, shaking her head. "You did."
"But, how? I haven't even seen you yet."
"Yet. You will, Booker. You will."
Hermione and her parents arrived with the tea then, and Booker was left to stew on that thought.
AN: going off of the appearance of Tenenbaum in bioshock 2. looked a lot better. lets just pretend that ugly model they used in the first game didn't exist :^)
also yeah. thats how the multi-verse works, to me. for every universe something happens, theres one where it doesn't. there's an infinite amount of universes, that's why it's called bioshock infinite. there is no real way to get rid of comstock and booker.
been watching the NA LCS when writing. im a big TSM and C9 fan so its been quite the split!
also, anyone out there good at cosplay? im planning on doing a kalista cosplay and i could use any advice i can get!
BN [Beta Note]: Hello Readers! My name is Wild Birdie here on but I also write on archive of our own as Creative Creature or Evora Layne, so I have experience writing. While I don't play Bioshock, I am a HUGE fan of Harry Potter and I tend to love video games because of the lore and background. I promise to do my best as I beta Pastry's chapters. Also on the cosplay, maybe try looking up examples and then planning out budget and supplies that you need. Maybe also try asking professional cosplayers like Elizabeth Rage or Chris Villain, they do DIY cosplay as well.
edit: pastry forgot to put in the beta edits cuz shes DUMB