Chapter 9: It Was the Best of Times…
Author's note: The votes are in, the poll is closed, and we've come to a decision. I'm not going to say what the results are. I'm going to have you read it and find out. Because I found it very helpful to know what you guys wanted to happen in this story, I've started a new poll. You guys vote whether Booker and Elizabeth should have a baby girl or baby boy. You can find the poll on my profile at the top of the page. And maybe even suggest names in the comments? Read on and find out if Booker enlists.
edboy4926: That would be pretty entertaining to see that. Thanks. :)
TheSilencedVigor: Thank you! I really liked the last one as well. If the polls won in opposition of sending Booker off, I could do that. We'll see! Haha, winter is coming! :P
Laengruk213100: It did have a sad ending, but it was meaningful at least.
Vanquish123: I think you're right about Booker feeling the need to fight again. I think he's a man of mistakes but also one yearning for honor, so he looks for it in wars. I think if Booker used the vigor's and salts in wars, everyone would be running from him and not the Germans out of fear… :P Thanks for the name suggestion! Vote on the poll to help for a girl :)
Dovahkiin Vokun do Skyrim: Cuteness, right?
Lone Reaper-068: Dudes got some sad baggage… :(
Kelly: Ahaha, I promise I'll write another woohoo moment soon! I'm after the pregnancy, because I feel weird writing a lemon with a pregnancy woman involved… :P And thank you for reading the quick updates! :)
Twisted Cinderella: Oh, well Booker got the surprise early! :P I'll do my best to fit in more lemons for you sometime. There should be like a rebellion against the games ending! Tada, updated :D
bren97122: Oh, if Booker just pulled out those guns in war, it's be pretty darn amazing :D Aw, thank you! I might hold you up on that offer. ;D
ElizabethDewitt: Love the username :) A girl would be so cute! If you vote girl on the poll, there's a better chance the baby will be. Enjoy! :)
kieran: I don't know if you read it, but this is AU(another universe). Of course I know Booker is Comstock. It's unfortunate that you don't like the post chapters after the first, but that's why there are so many other stories on here. So enjoy those.
Guest: Dead, I'm assuming.
-Sarai
Another tree, more wood. More wood, more money. More money, the better Booker could support his growing family. The sound of wood being cut filled the air with its obnoxious sawing; amplifying the headache he could feel now. All he wanted was to go home to Elizabeth in the peace and quiet.
Truly, he was thankful for the job. Steady hours and an environment that kept his body going. He wasn't the kind of man to sit behind a desk and file out paperwork. Sure, he respected the average business man, but he was meant to be active, pushing his body to limits, an air of excitement and danger. The lumber mill may have been a little dangerous, but what worked for him was the busy way about the place. Kept him on his toes in case a machine went out of whack or testing his strength on the mass and weight of trees and logs. Though it was tedious, it was a job that was good for him.
As he added yet another plank to the large, organized pile, a man dressed in a blue uniform called for the men of the lumber mill to gather. Booker already knew who this man was and what he wanted. The man had a handlebar mustache and skinny legs. Once everyone was gathered around him, everyone already knew what was going to come out of his mouth.
"The Germans are coming," he spoke aloud, "And we need to be prepared when they come here. If you love the land you stand on, you will fight for it." He went on to say what he always said, claiming that this was a time to act, to join the army and show the Germans who was in charge. He finished as he always did, "Be the man your country needs and join."
It was silent for a long time, no one brave enough to take a step up and accept the role as a soldier. The recruiter with the handlebar mustache looked down his nose at the crowd and when he was going to take his leave, a quiet man who was known by the name Pierce Romilly stepped forward, twisting his hat in his hands.
"I'll join," Pierce spoke up, but kept his head down.
As he was passing by Booker, he laid a hand on his shoulder to hold him in place for a minute. "Do you want to do this?" Booker inquired with a hushed voice.
Shy man Pierce looked into the American's eyes with an expression that Booker had known all too well and had seen so many times in Wounded Knee. "For my country," was all he said.
"You have family, Pierce. Are you sure you want to leave them?"
A wife and two red haired children waited for Pierce in his small home a few miles from the mill, waiting for his return from work. Before he could think about them any longer, he shook his head, "I have to protect them. Even if it means putting my life on the line. It's for them."
Both men looked to handlebar mustache when he called out to the two, "Come now, Mr. Romilly. Your country and the people that call this place their home thank you."
Pierce nodded and with his head down, walked to the recruiter and filled out his information on the paper the man gave him. Booker prayed for the man to return home safely and soon to his family, and he thanked him for fighting to protect his own family. He was snapped out of his mental praise for the man when the recruiter called out to him.
"Mr. Dewitt, ready to join?" handlebar mustache asked loudly.
All eyes around him were glued to him as they awaited his answer. Booker looked around with furrowed brows, searching for the answer. He looked to the recruiter and sighed inwardly, "Can't. American."
"You can," he replied with a copied firm voice, "How many times do I need to tell you about the French Foreign Legion?"
"How many times do I have to tell you no?"
The recruiter weaved through the small crowd until he stood in front of Booker, "You have a family, don't you Mr. Dewitt?"
He had the sudden urge to gulp hard, but he held it back, "I do. A wife and a kid on the way."
"And you would protect her and the growing child inside of her, correct?"
Booker didn't like where this was going, "Of course."
"So protect them. Join now and keep the enemies away from your family."
"I can protect them better if I'm with them," he retorted with an edge in his tone, "If I'm off on the battlefield, I can't protect them. I'm not joining."
Handlebar mustache rolled his eyes and scoffed at him, "Americans: Britain's offspring of cowards. If you will not join, you obviously do not care for your family enough to fight for them."
Too far. The man went too far. Booker grabbed for his collar and shook him violently, "Don't you say that. I care about my family, you little shit. You call me a coward but all you do his jabber that mouth of yours. You don't fight on the field, your hiding behind the men that do and claim praise for yourself. But you're just a jackass who doesn't stop talking."
Booker raised his fist to give the man a good punch to his right eye, but when his hand was about to go for him, another hand grasped onto the nook of his elbow and held him back. Shaking with anger, Booker looked up to the man that was holding him from giving the petty man a shiner, and when he realized who had stopped him, he dropped handlebar mustache and stood straight.
"Go now, Vincent," Jean Bisset, the owner of the lumber mill, ordered to the recruiter, "You already got another one of my workers, go bother someone else."
Vincent the recruiter straightened out his uniform with haste and took off for the next location to recruit. Jean released Booker's arm and gestured to his office with a nod. The two men walked to the small room in silence, tension in the air.
Jean closed the door behind him and told him to take a seat. "Dewitt, I think it'd be best you control your anger next time."
"The guy was asking for it," Booker argued as he slouched back in his chair.
The old man gave him a stern look but it slowly turned into one of amusement, "He was. But just like you and I, he has a job to do. His happens to be talking a little too much and pressuring men."
Giving an irritated sigh, Booker nodded, "I know, but he had not right to say I didn't care for Elizabeth enough. He needs to watch what he says."
"He does," Jean agreed, "But let it go for now. You're not being forced to join. Keep your temper in check. Especially now with Elizabeth pregnant, she needs you to be strong."
"I know. I just can't leave her."
Jean nodded and leaned on his desk, "I was the same way when my wife was carrying children and when we were raising them. Now they are adults and joining the army themselves."
"Brave children," Booker said with a low voice.
"They are. And maybe stupid. I pray every night for them and wait to hear word about their locations and state of health. From what I've heard, they are safe and healthy, but I still worry. I'm not as bad as Collette. She cries every day for them."
Booker chuckled and rubbed his forehead, easing the headache away. Jean stood straight and waved to the exit of his office. "Speaking of wives, you go home for now to Elizabeth. Tell her how you almost beat up a French soldier and that I broke it up."
"That wouldn't be the first time," he said with a half smirk.
After bidding his boss a goodbye, Booker left to go home to Elizabeth. Everyday he'd look forward to seeing her. On days she was at Collette's, he'd try to wash himself of the sweat and wood chips and dust that would accumulate on his cloths and in his hair before she got home. Even though she admitted to like seeing him messy and rugged, and that would lead to more adult actions that made him want to get home all that sooner.
As he walked into this home, everything was quiet except for faint singing and an occasional puppy whimper coming from the back of the cottage. As he slowly walked to the sun room, he could hear the singing more clearly and apparently the dogs could hear his footsteps because their tails hitting the floor in excitement could be heard.
Elizabeth was lying on her stomach, a book in her hand, while twisting a dark brown lock of hair between her fingers. The puppies Rosalind and Robert lay splayed out on the rug they all three on lay on. Robert got up quickly when Booker walked into the sunroom, the poor dog stumbled on those big paws, but his tail wagged wildly as he trotted happily around Booker's feet.
"You're home early," Elizabeth said, peeking over to him.
Booker tapped Rosalind to move, and after a very human sounding scoff, the dog moved. He lay down next to Elizabeth and pulled her closer, "I ran away."
"Oh, is that right?" she inquired with a small giggle.
"Mm, maybe…maybe not." He lay on his side, resting on his forearm while he rubbed small circles on her back, "What are you reading?"
"'A Tale of Two Cities' by Charles Dickens," she murmured, closing the book to look at the spine of the hardcover literature, "Collette let me borrow it."
He brushed her hair off her shoulder to show of her thin neck, "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times…"
"You know it?" she asked in surprise.
"When Rebecca was pregnant—" he went quite suddenly, paralyzed by saying his first wife's name aloud. Elizabeth held onto his hand to calm his nerves, so he went on, "She would read a lot, and that was her favorite."
She was silent for a moment in thought, considering her next words, "It's quite the sad book. I can't imagine reading it more than once."
She hadn't realized at all that he very sneakily unbuttoned the back of her dress and slipped some of her dress down to expose her delicate shoulder. Unconsciously, she tilted her head to the side when he leaned in and kissed her skin, making her nerves tingle alive.
Feeling the need to talk more, she took a deep breath, clearing her mind from the sudden sexual atmosphere, "The main character I find to be the saddest." Her breath was heavy and whimpers escaped her lips as Booker gently bit at her skin. "He has no prospects in life. He's indifferent and insolent about everything."
"Maybe if he had someone," Booker hinted, referring to her, "He wouldn't be so depressed." He rolled her over until she lay on her back, eyes half closed in euphoria. Pulling the other part of her dress off her shoulders, all that was now covering her chest and torso was the thin slip. She rarely wore her corset anymore, and Booker never complained.
"There was one woman he loved," she muttered, "And after many events and…" She was beginning to trail off, but quickly remembered to finish her thought, "And things, he sacrifices himself for her happiness."
Before Booker had gotten home, she had remembered something that was very important to tell him, but now his kisses were throwing her all off. He pulled on the straps of her slip and it gathered with her dress at her hips. Her nipples hardened at the sudden freedom of fabric and cooler air and he went to kiss at her bosom and breasts.
Elizabeth almost completely lost her train of thought, when like a miracle she remembered what she needed to tell him. "Booker!" she shouted maybe a little too loudly.
He sat up quickly, worried she was hurt or something was wrong, but when he saw that her brows were raised and eyes wide, he wasn't sure if he should be worried or angry because he was pulled away from her chest. "Something wrong?"
"It's almost September," she declared.
He started leaning back down, "Yes it is, and August is almost over." A guttural sigh came up his throat when she put a hand on his chest, preventing him from kissing her again. "What is it, Elizabeth?"
"I think we should go back to Paris for a little while," she said, avoiding her reasoning, "At least until the 12th or so."
Now he was intrigued, "Why should we go to Paris and stay for such a specific time?" Something that sounded like a whimper escaped from Booker as she pulled the slip back up to cover her breasts.
"Booker, after Columbia, I went through so many tears until I found you. Some of the things I saw, some of the things I heard…terrible things Booker. One of the tears I went through was 1940. Everywhere I went, all I heard was about a war. A war called the Second World War. So it made me think, when was the first? I managed to look in the library and read what I could. But Booker, something I remember was the Battle of Marne. The Germans wanted to overrun Paris, but the French army fought them by the Marne."
Booker didn't know what to think of this. He believed her, but he wasn't sure how to deal with it or how to take it all in. After a small moment, words finally formed in his head, "When does this happen?"
"It starts on the fifth of September."
"And it happens on the Marne?" She nodded in response. "Then we should be safe here. The Marne is southeast of Paris. We're northwest."
"I'm just worried," she whispered, looking away.
He understood her worry, and in some ways, he was worried as well. He hooked a finger under her chin and brought her to look at him, "I'll keep you safe, Elizabeth."
She kissed him back when he leaned down to her, pulling her slip back down. "And our little boy?" she inquired while laying a hand on her belly.
"I'll protect you both with all my life, I promise." He kissed the valley of her breasts and lead kisses to her navel, "And It's a girl."
She brought him back up her lips and kissed him, wrapping her legs around his waist, "I told you, Booker, it's a boy."
He chuckled at her surety. For the past few days, she'd been speaking aloud that they were going to have a little boy, but Booker said otherwise. He believed she was carrying a girl. But no matter the gender of their child, he was certain that he would protect them until he took his last breath. The Germans were coming and they weren't going to come near his family. He smiled when she placed his hand flat on her bump-free belly. She was so small that Booker could lay his palm on her waist and nearly touch both sides if he stretched out his fingers far enough. She was that small. He leaned down until his lips touched the skin of her abdomen and whispered against her skin, "I guess we're going to have to wait and see."
Author's note: The poll was so close that it was just one vote that made the opposition of Booker going to war the winner. I would have preferred him to join the army, but hey ho. I just hope some realize that I went against what I wanted, to be fair with most of the readers. I can use the war idea for another story maybe. We shall see.
Now, I'm not saying this as in punishment because I'm with the minority of the votes, but the story won't be going on for much longer. I can maybe churn out a few more chapters, but it'll be ending sometime sooner than later. Before it all ends though, I'll try to add one more detailed lemon for you all who've been wanting another.
Please go vote on the gender of their baby! Oh, and I had help from a certain 'gangster' coming up with the name of Booker's first wife. I think it fit very well. The Germans are coming! -Sarai