I DO NOT OWN BIOSHOCK, NOR ITS CHARACTERS.

Hey! Thank you for reading (and leave a review, the ones who does, did and will)! I'm very excited about this one.

Oh, and a thank-you to DefinateStorm too, my new Beta! She helps me so much.

Robert held Rosalind before she could fall down the stairs. They used to keep the distance but the moment required it, so he took her in his arms and carried her to his bedroom, feeling awkward for being so lose to her. He had experienced those kinds of fainting in his own body, all of them because of the famous Contraption. Maybe she was too exposed to it and it was affecting her; after all, the machine occupied two whole floors in the house, including her bedroom. Robert was not going to let it affect his sister anymore. Not until she recovered at least.

"Robert..." she muttered. "What has happened...?"

She was awake a minute after fainting, but the room was dizzy and confusing.

"You fainted." he informed her softly. "Your nose was bleeding."

"But that's..."

"Nonsense, I know." he put Rosalind in the bed and forced her under the sheets. "You must rest."

"I'm alright." she replied trying to get up.

"Dear Sister," he began putting her down again, "as much as I do admire your strength, you are still human. You'll die if you don't rest properly every now and then." Rosalind couldn't argue with that. "Besides, the reason for you bleeding is still unknwon."

"Something tells me, dear Brother, that you are curious about it." a genuine smile ran across her face, making Robert blink in surprise. "We are not that different."

She could tell by his intrigued look that he was dying to know more.

"We are the same person, Rosalind." he agreed, standing. "I'll fetch your nightgown."

"This is not necessary." she sighed. "It has stopped. Sometimes people bleed and it doesn't always mean anything."

"Don't move." He was as stubborn as she was, she noticed that. He cared about her as much as she did about him.

Robert may be right, Rosalind thought to herself, finding that the warm bed was, in fact, comforting her. I might need to rest... He won't stop until I do, after all.

"A theory: maybe the..." started Robert walking into the room, but Morfeo had conquered her a while ago.

Half supported against the headboard, asleep with the head fallen towards one side, Rosalind seemed as calm as a baby. He couldn't wake her up knowing how much did she need that rest. Rosalind would complain in the morning, but it didn't matter to him; she would see the point, eventually.

The vest and the hairpins were removed and the corset unlazed with tenderness. Sitting on a armchair placed next to the comforter, Robert dispossed the handkerchiefs (just in case) on the bedside table, as she used during his 'illness', and the notebook. Robert wanted to take care of her like she had with him in the past; notes, both loved them, would keep her in the bed. It would because they shared the passion for theories.

It was late at night when a knock came from the main door.

She stirred from the bed, feeling as if Heaven had lulled her all night. Half asleep and with nobody looking, she could drop her strong-woman-face and smiled at the sweet feeling of a good night of sleep. Robert was sleeping in the same armchair she herself had slept in during his sickness, surrounded by pens and notes. Judging by the blood on his hands and the handkerchiefs, she supposed the bleeding had started again at some point. She sighed, delighted, and was about to get back in the bed when another knock caught her attention.

She had forgotten what had awaken her in the first place.

It wasn't until she reached the bedroom's door that the state of her dress was revealed. It wasn't proper to recieve an unwelcome visitor at such late hour of the night like that. She looked around, trying to find something that would fit in the situation. Her nightgown was still over the bed.

Now, this is better for a lady, she thought looking at her sleepy reflection in Robert's mirror.

She didn't care for etiquette as most people did, but it was easier to deal with them if she followed their social rules. She thought of it as of any other mathematical law: you can't turn a number into a variable without some steps in the middle, some sacrifices are needed first. Time, if mathematics. Looks, if social enviroment.

"Miss Lutece!" the urgent voice of the Prophet calling her.

Miss because she hadn't married, but most people used Madame or Mistress instead, showing respect. She sighed; Mr Comstock was everything but respectful to her.

"Prophet." she greeted, opening the front door. "It's two in the morning." a yawn escaped her mouth and she tried to disguise it in the politest way.

"Why, were you sleeping? I thought resting was not an option for you." Comstock mocked.

Rosalind tried her best to remain as calm as she was before, but it was difficult. It seemed that Robert was always there to help her, for his words came to her mind just in time:

"As much as people admire my strength, Mr Comstock, I'm still human. I need a rest every now and them as everybody else." she said with a petulant smile on her face.

"Oh, I see. May I come in?" He entered without waiting for an answer.

"Does Lady Comstock know you are here?"

"As I said, I thought you would be up to some experiment. I'm here for business" he was looking around as if a tear would appear from the void.

"And I said it is not ready!" that was it. Her calmess flew trough the window. "It's not been tested yet. There are arrangements to be done, tests I have to perform before I can even try it!"

And, the most important, she wanted to show Robert what he had done. She could be cold but definitely not blind; he was the one who had been caring for her no matter what.

"Well, then. Test it now."

"What?" her eyes opened in surprise.

"Go on; test it now. Time is gold, they say, and my gold is people seeing the light."

"But... Robert..." for the first time, she didn't know what to say. Should she reveal her true desires? Robert had done so much for her, waited so long for time to spend together... He deserved more than anyone to see the fruits of his work. It was his work, after all, taking care of her and helping her, fixing the equations that made the Contraption possible when she got upset. She needed him more than anything.

Rosalind wanted to share the first oneside travelable tear with Robert and only him, not Comstock.

"I thought he was the product of the experiment, dear" the Prophet caressed her face, but she stepped away. "He's just a result of your great work and nothing more."

"I'm not comfortable with this. I must inform him. He has worked as much as I have this year. He deserves to know -"

"To know nothing. Or would you like your statue replaced by a male one?" he raised an elbrow.

"It wouldn't matter" she crossed her arms in front of her. "It would still represent me."

"That's not what my sheep would think." She sighed. "Come on, Ms Lutece. Show it to me." taking her hand, he forced her down the hall to the lab door.

"I'm sick. I should go back to bed. Maybe tomorrow..." she tried.

"It'll be a moment" insisted the Prophet with a voice that wouldn't accept a no.

"You'll have to wait while I fix some variables." She sighed again.

"I don't care." he smiled menacingly, knowing he had won.

Around three in the morning the noises of a machinery began. Startled, Robert tried to wake Rosalind, worried that something she could have been working on lately was about to explode, but she was not in bed.

"Rosalind?" he called, but the buzzing was too loud for anyone to hear him.

And then, a scream. A scream of joy followed by a male voice. It couldn't be, could it? A man in their house so late at night? A lover? Rosalind didn't have any lovers, but she seemed happy so it wasn't a burglar.

Why didn't she wake him?

"Did you see that?" was Rosalind screaming as excited as a child with a new toy. "Did you see that? It worked! The tear! It worked!"

"I see it, dear" he laughed.

Robert couldn't believe his ears. What was the famous shepherd of Columbia doing in their laboratory at three in the morning? Lady Comstock had stopped him months ago in the streets, saying something about an affair between his Sister and her husband, but Rosalind had laughed at that. Really laughed. For days.

Spying on them was not the best idea, but what else could he do in such a situation?

"Lord..." he murmured when Rosalind hugged the Prophet.

"I can't believe it worked" she was literally jumping, looking at something that Robert couldn't see, but it was bright enough to illuminate the room. "But it did. Aren't you happy? This is what you wanted" she smiled at Zachary Comstock and he nodded.

"Columbia is content with your results." said Mr Comstock politely. "This is something to be proud of, Miss Lutece. It's a shame, your children would have been proud as well."

"What are you insinuating?" Oh, Robert knew his Sister's moods and that was not the right path with her. Upset Rosalind was a scary Rosalind.

"I'm just saying that if I were you, I would like my seed to continue my work."

"I am not ashamed of my decisions." she replied sharply.

"Oh, no, dear Rosalind. I'm sure that you are perfectly happy with your lifestyle. Mine, in the contrary, needs some assurance. I'm getting old but God's plans are not yet finished. Your windows have showed me my destiny: My seed will continue His desire and save the Sodom below from its sins. That's why I came here tonight; because I need you."

Robert could not hide his surprise. Lady Comstock was right! But... how? Why? No, no... the delicious question was when, when did it begin and for how long?

"That would be a decision I could be... " she stumbled, but Comstock held her close.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm sick, I told you before" she narrowed her eyes at him. "Is my nose bleeding?"

"Ehm... yes."

"Oh, Lord..."

"Rosalind!" Comstock set her body to the floor slowly. "Rosalind, wake up."

Robert saw the man kissing his Sister's lips lightly and he couldn't take it anymore. No one was going to take advantage of her. He rushed into the room quickly.

"I heard screams" he needed an excuse for the sudden interruption. "What happened?"

"Robert..." Rosalind was in the world of the living again and searched for his hand, which Robert didn't deny her. "Look at that" she pointed to the wall.

So that was all the mistery about: a tear. A tear that was not showing the same old picture of a museum but the streets of San Francisco. And the snow... the snow was falling through the tear and melting on the floor.

It was important, amazing even, but it wasn't the most important thing in that room at the moment. He turned to Rosalind with a frown on his face, "What were you thinking? You are sick, you need to rest" Robert reproached her.

"I..." started Mr Comstock, only to be cut by the male counterpart of Rosalind, who was really upset.

"Yes, you." He snapped, "Did you do this? Couldn't you just wait? Goddamit, get the hell out of my house! You've done enough harm!"

"Robert!" Rosalind yelled, scared of Comstock's possible reaction to such offensive language. But there was nothing to worry about, for the Prophet just looked at him with a neutral mask on his face.

"I understand that you are worried about your... Sister, so I will forgive your outburst." Mr Comstock stood. "I forgive you your sins, son." And then he left.