Chapter 6: Americans In Love

Author's note: I was playing some of Infinite today and while doing so, I realized who Elizabeth and Booker reminded me of. Elizabeth reminds me of Rapunzel from 'Tangled' and Booker reminds me of Flynn Ryder. Elizabeth's 'floating lanterns' is Paris, and Booker has debt that he needs to clear like Flynn (though Flynn is an outright thief). Maybe I watch too much Disney, but it doesn't matter. I'll be watching 'Beauty & The Beast' when I'm fifty.

edboy4926: Thanks :)
Fanfiction180: I'm just focusing on Booker and Elizabeth. Involving possible events of Infinite 2 kinda scares me, because I'm afraid I'd do a terrible job, but it would be pretty fun. Thanks so much :)
TheBigDewitt: Marriage scares me too. But considering the time that this is set in and the traditional relationships back then, marriage would happen fairly quickly I think. Thanks a lot :)
Lone Reaper-068: Me too! More coming your way :)
bren97122: Why of course you are invited! Your story is fabulous!
Cattleman: I had to take into consideration the time period they're in, and I just imagine that marriage comes quick. Thanks so much! I'm glad you're enjoying it :)
Dovahkiin Vokun do Skyrim: Thanks so much! :)
i. love. pie. alot: I love your username! Thanks so much :) More coming your way.
Flatfoot88: Us romanticists must stick together. Glad to hear you like it, and I think most of us were pretty upset about the unveiling of their blood relation.
Alyx: Here's more for you :)

-Sarai

Booker was never a heavy sleeper, but for the past few days, he could sleep the night through without nightmares making appearances or random moments of restlessness. He could sleep soundly and through the noisy people outside on the streets speaking a language he couldn't. It was the kind of morning that he was coming to know wonderfully and appreciated it with great value. He rolled over and anticipated feeling her skin. But when he realized all he was touching was sheets, he sat up in a hurry and looked to the empty space on the bed.

"Elizabeth," he called out, hoping she might come from the small wash room or from behind the modesty screen. When no answer came, he threw the blankets off and stood quickly. He looked in the wash room to find it empty and no one behind the modesty screen. However, he did notice her corset hung over the partition. He started tearing the place apart to find no answer about her whereabouts. Booker was searching though the dresser when he heard the door open and immediately he turned to see who had entered his room.

Elizabeth was walking into the room backwards as she was waving and talking to someone on the street, "Merci beaucop!" She turned around and gasped loudly when she saw a very disgruntled Booker. She shut the door instantly and looked him up and down, "Uh, Booker, you're…"

He tilted his head to the side like a curious dog and once realizing she was gesturing at his body, he looked down and quickly grabbed for blankets to cover his naked physique. He knotted a sheet around his hips and walked to her. He noticed she had a bouquet of many different flowers of many different colors. She set the flowers in the chair by the door and met him halfway. Elizabeth tried to kiss him but he held her still.

"What's wrong?" she asked with worried eyes.

He looked her over carefully, making sure it was her. She wore her white dress that had blue stripes and her hair was pushed out of her face with a familiar blue ribbon. She looked up at him with those bright blue eyes and her lips slightly parted. After looking her over, he was sure it was her and she hadn't disappeared.

"I didn't know where you were," he spoke softly, stroking her cheek. "I thought you left or…"

She placed the tips of her fingers on his lips to shush him, "I didn't go anywhere. I would never leave you."

He sighed in relief and let her kiss him. Her full lips pressed against his and it reminded him of the day on the gondola, when she had said his name and nearly made him cry. He had pulled her into a kiss and that's when he knew he loved this woman. The reminder made him want to take her to the nearest chapel, say vows, seal the deal with a kiss and live happily ever after. But there were things that needed to be prepared before that happened.

After sitting on the bed, Booker pulled her to sit in his lap. Elizabeth raised her dress slightly and brought her knee to the side of his hip and did the same with her other knee. He pulled her to him as she cuddled into his lap and captured his lips with hers in a kiss.

Something about this kiss made the world stop. It made the axis become still and it all could be blamed on two people kissing in a hotel room, in Paris. This kiss was not like the ones that were before. It was like all the kisses they shared had led up to this particular one. It held a certainty of love and also patience. Nothing was rushed about it; nothing about it was hurried or hungry. It was slow and kind, dedicated and meaningful.

Elizabeth pulled away, but very slowly. She placed a long kiss on his lips, and then smaller and shorter pecks as time went on. She finally opened her eyes to see him with his still closed. She rested her forehead against his and sighed happily, "It's always going to be like this, right?"

"I'll be damned if it's not," he claimed with his eyes still shut.

She laughed softly, kissing his forehead while running her fingers through his messy bed hair. They stayed like this for a long while, just holding each other and kissing once in a while. After nearly an hour, Booker spoke first, "Where did you get the flowers?"

Elizabeth's eyes widened in reminder and stood quickly. She grabbed for the flowers and went to the bathroom, "A man selling them on a cart outside gave them to me. I felt bad not paying, but he said I was the most tolerable American he met and gave them to me for free. I swear there was vase under this sink."

The next minute, she walked out with the flowers displayed beautifully in the glass vase filled with water. She placed it on the nightstand and admired her interior design skills for a small moment before taking off her small jacket, "I also saw Gabrielle."

Booker had to think a minute before he realized who Gabrielle was. He felt slightly guilty for forgetting the woman who had kept him company for the past two months, "Oh yeah, what did she say?"

"She said that she was glad someone was around to keep you company," Elizabeth said with a small smile. He, however, rolled his eyes. "Do you notice if you ask her about herself, she shies away from the topic?"

One minute, Booker felt guilty, now he felt selfish. He had never asked her about her life or past, just slept with her. The relationship was purely sex. She tried asking about his life, but he refused to give her insights or conversation.

Elizabeth noticed his silence, but went on anyway, "I asked her about her husband, but she just skirted around it. Do you know why they have a troubled relationship?"

He shook his head. "I never asked."

"I wonder what it is," she murmured with a finger on her chin. "Anyways, when I told her that we were planning to get married sometime—I didn't tell her when—she asked if she could take me to get fitted for my dress. Do you mind if I go?"

He lay back on the bed with a huff of air, "You don't have to ask, Elizabeth. Just promise me you'll be careful."

"Only for you," she whispered to him as she crawled onto the bed to lay next to him, "Thank you."

He rolled on top of her and kissed at her neck, all the while she giggled at his scruff tickling her skin. He ran his hand up her side and felt the warmth of her skin on his hand. He could feel the shape of her and the curves that made him want her. "Why didn't you wear your corset?"

"It's too hard to put on myself," she admitted as she rubbed his back, "And it feels nicer with it off."

"It sure does," he murmured against her neck as he rubbed both hands on her sides and abdomen. He trailed his hand up to her breast and could feel the softness of it, and gained heavy pleasured moan from Elizabeth. He brought his lips to hers and spoke against her mouth, "When are you going out with Gabrielle?"

She started kicking her boots off, "Not for another hour."

He started pulling her dress off and other garments she wore, "That's long enough."

"How did you and Booker meet?" Gabrielle inquired when she peaked over the woman's fashion magazine she held in her hands.

If this woman measuring Elizabeth pricked her one more time with a needle, she'd deflate. "Uh, one day I had gotten lost and he helped me around." Elizabeth was disappointed with herself that she lied, but she couldn't just tell her how they met. She'd have to tell her about Columbia and how she could open things called tears. So, even though it was wrong, she lied and described their relationship in a simpler matter.

"Mm," Gabrielle hummed, obviously not buying into her lies, but she really didn't care about how they really met. "The man boy is madly in love with you, you know that?"

Elizabeth stood like da Vinci's 'Vitruvian Man' painting as the seamstress held fabrics up, pinning them with sewing needles, "Yes, and I'm deeply in love with him."

The French woman held back a gag, but she had to admire this young girl's romantic and optimistic personality. She threw the magazine to the side and scrutinized the pincushion that Elizabeth had become. "It is very simple. Is this what you wanted?" she inquired, referring to the dress in the making.

Once looking down, a bright smile grew on Elizabeth's, "It's perfect. If I wear something big and with lots of ruffles, I'll get lost in the fabric."

Gabrielle and seamstress laughed in unison. "Américains," Gabrielle said with a wave of the hand.

The seamstress took the dress off carefully and brought it to mannequin for further alterations before she could sew it up and hand it over. The small woman looked to Elizabeth and thought for a small minute, her eyes squinting in thought, "Eh, un jour?"

"Parfait! Merci beaucop," Elizabeth spoke with a happy smile confirming one day was fine for the dress to be sewn. The woman nodded in appreciation that she could understand her and speak French. After dressing, Elizabeth walked out of the shop with Gabrielle on her side and the two walked in the direction of the hotel. She looked to the older woman and prepared herself to ask her a question, "Gabrielle, how did you and your husband meet?"

Anyone could see Gabrielle stiffen at the question, but she gave the young woman a tight smile, "It was quite a while ago." She gestured to a small café on the side of the road and walked for a table on the portico out front. Elizabeth nodded and the two took a seat, ordering some tea when the waiter came by.

"My marriage was an arranged one," she started, "You see, my father owned a vineyard and he wanted to make a business with his wine. There was company that could help him and make him rich, but he didn't have enough money to strike a deal with the higher ups of this company. The man that owned the company had a son that was yet to be married, so he told my father if his daughter—me—married his son, then he would purchase his wine and sponsor him."

When the tea came, Gabrielle stared into the lemon flavored hot beverage as if she was in another time. "Louis and I were married right away. At first it was very awkward and we didn't know what to do with one another. I was only 16 at the time and he was 23. After a few years, we started to get used to each other's presence and actually appreciated it. We tried for a baby, but it took many years to become pregnant. When I finally was with child, we both couldn't be happier. But, as luck would have it, 5 months into maternity, I miscarried."

Instead of saying words, Elizabeth leaned over the small table and placed her hand atop Gabrielle's. The French woman forced a smile, but Elizabeth could see sadness in her eyes.

"After that, we just couldn't look at each other. He buried himself in work and I was left alone to deal with the grief of our deceased child. Now we barely talk, let alone see each other."

Elizabeth sat back in her chair and brought her teacup to her lips. She watched the people on the street pass by and wondered what I'd be like to lose a child. She had to applaud Gabrielle for coping with it. If she were to lose her own, she'd wasn't sure what she'd do. How would Booker deal with it?

"I'm sorry you went through that, Gabrielle," she said softly, "I know you don't want pity, but I just wanted you to know that I look up to you for making it through something like that."

The older woman eyed her carefully, looking for some sort of sarcasm or deceit, but she found genuine kindness. "Américains," she muttered under her breath, but she offered a gentle smile, "Thank you."

After a few minutes of small talk, the two women finished their tea and Gabrielle tossed one franc on the table. As they were walking down the cobble street, a man of blonde hair and bright blue eyes began to wave at Gabrielle. She waved back with a small move of her hand and smiled. She turned to Elizabeth and held her hand in her own, "He's from Sweden. He's not the most patient. You have a lovely day, my dear. You know how to get back to your hotel, yes?"

"I do," Elizabeth said with a nod, "Thank you for today."

She smiled and started to walk to the Swedish man. Before she was half way to him, she turned to the young woman and spoke loud enough for her to hear, "I paid for your dress, by the way. Well, more my husband did."

Elizabeth's eyes went wide with surprise, "Oh no, I can't let you pay for it!"

Gabrielle shook her head with a roll of her eyes, "Yes you can. Think of it as a wedding gift. Jusqu'à prochaine fois, soon to be Mrs. Booker Dewitt."

Elizabeth giggled and waved her goodbye. She walked at a leisurely pace as she made way for the hotel, but stopped just a few feet from her current residence. A young boy was selling newspapers and shouting, "Austria-Hungary declares war on Serbia!" He shouted many other things that Elizabeth wasn't very interested in.

She had read a lot about wars in her books, and she knew that even though a country that wasn't involved would be all over it. Especially since she was in France and Serbia was involved with this historical moment. A lot could be read about France's issues with Austria-Hungary, and she knew that this was the beginning of something intense for the world.

"Are you sure on this one, monsieur?"

Booker took one last glance at the paper advertisement and nodded, "Yes, that's the one."

The real-estate agent nodded and went to the back of his office to get the necessary paperwork for him to sign. He was about to purchase a small home on the outskirts of Paris and he was most certain that Elizabeth would like it. It was still close enough to the city that she could make a trip here and spend a day in the city. It was far out enough that they wouldn't be bothered, the nearest neighbors were a few hundred feet away, but close enough for emergencies.

The man came back out and lined out the papers for Booker to sign. When Booker had first come to Paris, he gambled to fight away the sorrow he felt, and he actually won a lot. He also sold his apartment back in New York and that added to his savings. There was enough to make quite a few payments on the home and purchase two small golden rings that signified marriage. He was trying to get this done in a hurry so he could get back to the hotel and meet up with Elizabeth.

He signed the papers, and surprisingly, he felt good about it. He took his copies of the papers and other things that were important and took off to the hotel. He was close when he noticed Elizabeth standing a few paces away from the hotel as she was looking at newspapers. She jumped a little when he placed his hand on her shoulder.

"Oh, Booker," she said with a small smile, "Where were you?"

"Errands," he stated simply, "What were you looking at?"

She turned her gaze back to the black and white headlines, "There's a war going on."

He read the papers and sighed inwardly, "There's always a war going on it seems."

She nodded and held his hand while she walked with him to their room. Once inside, she noticed the papers in his hands, "What's that you're holding?"

He looked at what she pointing at and shrugged, "Just papers."

"What kind of papers?" she inquired with narrowed eyes.

He shrugged again and immediately she tried to grab for them. Booker was expecting this so he held them above his head, laughing as she jumped trying to grasp whatever he was hiding from her. She was way too short to even get near the papers. He closed his eyes laughing when she started snarling at him. His laughing stopped when the papers left his hands. Once opening his eyes, she was standing on the bed with the papers in her hands now and she was searching through them. She was on the third page when he pulled her down on the bed.

Elizabeth had read enough to understand what they were. "You bought a house?" she asked once her breath was recovered after being tackled to the bed.

"I did," he said once he rolled off her.

"When?"

He started undoing his tie and unbuttoning his vest, "Just today."

She was speechless. Somehow she managed to sit up and look at him like he was growing an extra eye. Once wrapping her mind around the idea of owning a home, or rather he did, she straddled his waist and leaned down to kiss him. She pulled away and squealed a little, "When do we get to move there?"

He tossed his vest to the side and relaxed on the mattress, "Once we're married."

Elizabeth sighed with bliss and held onto him tightly, "My dress will be ready in one day. Gabrielle paid for it as a wedding gift."

"What?" he asked shocked, "We can't let her pay for that."

"I tried arguing with her," she defended, "But she was off before I could say anymore."

Booker was going to debate about it more, but Elizabeth assured him that she insisted and that they should thank her properly when they got the chance. He finally let it go after a while and be thankful to Gabrielle for doing such a thing for Elizabeth.

"Why don't we just get married at the courthouse?" she asked him spontaneously.

"What? Why the courthouse?"

She sat up and removed her jacket for the second time that day, "It's much cheaper and faster. That way we can get to our new home and the privacy it offers."

Booker caught on to her subtle hinting about the privacy. And he agreed. He wanted to be in a place where he could make as much noise, and more importantly, he could make her make as much as she wanted. "Alright, if that's what you want."

"It's what I want," she assured him as she went for the buttons on the back of her dress. "And right now, I want you."

After making record time taking off their clothes, Booker kissed his soon to be wife all over her body and couldn't wait until they were married and could do this on their property. The idea of marriage still scared him to this day, but with Elizabeth by his side, he'd say those vows with surety and honesty with his heart completely in it. While a war was starting, a bond was in the path for Elizabeth and Booker.

Author's note: So, before I get my ass chewed out; I know the beginnings of WW1 didn't start till 1914, but it fits in with the way I want this story to go. So let's just imagine that this story is taking placing in 1914, shall we? :)

I think in the next chapter we should get them married, what do you say? Don't fret. The story won't end after the wedding. I'll be able to churn out a few more chapters and obstacles for our dear couple. Thanks for reading and I'll talk to you all next time. -Sarai