This short drabble technically takes place after the ending of BioShock infinite : Booker never gave away his daughter, and she grows up with Booker as her father, with her real name; Anna. But Booker still has memories from their time in Columbia, but he can't access them because of the tear. This is not connected to the former chapters of this story.

He could still remember that day. It felt so unnatural, yet he didn't know why. How he'd entered his daughter's room, only to find her rolling a little in her crib, smiling innocently up at him. Why had he been so shocked? He'd somehow felt that something was wrong, that she was never supposed to be there, but he didn't understand why. And he'd put it aside. He pretended that it didn't matter, for the sake of his daughter. And she grew up to be such an amazing little girl, and somehow, Booker wasn't surprised when his 8 year old daughter Anna told him she wanted to go to Paris.

"Daddy, daddy, what's that place?" Little Anna asked with a playful smile, pointing at the picture hanging on the wall in Booker DeWitt's office.

"That's the Eiffel tower, Anna," he smiled, gently putting a hand on her shoulder as he looked at the picture. "I bought this at a little shop down the street two years ago, in 1901… I thought it looked nice."

"Where is it?" Anna asked, looking up at her father with big eyes.

"It's in Paris. That's the capital of France."

"Paris," Anna repeated to herself, her gaze returning to the picture. Booker could notice the longing expression on her face. "I want to go to Paris, papa," she said dreamily, rocking back and forth on her heels a little. Booker could feel his vision go blurry. It was almost as if Anna got a bit taller… as if she had grown up, but just a silhouette standing around the real Anna. A beautiful, young woman.

"Oh, how I want to see Paris, Mr. DeWitt," the voice said, so dreamily, and with such a soft voice.

Booker stepped back, and everything was back to normal. What the hell had just happened?

"Papa, you're bleeding," Anna uttered, confused, as she looked up at Booker. He brought a hand to his nose and saw the blood on his fingers.

"What the…" He uttered. He went to wash it off before returning to Anna. For some reason, he felt obliged to tell her that; "How about we go to Paris instead of Memphis this summer?"

"Yay!"

…

She was skipping across the harbor, her white and blue dress swinging back and forth at her legs. She looked so genuinely happy to be there, so utterly glad that she had finally stepped off the boat and gotten to Paris together with her father. Booker came walking behind her with their bags propped over his shoulder, and one in his hand, looking a bit tired from the trip.

"Papa, can we go see the Eiffel tower now, please?" Anna ushered, jumping up and down while holding onto her father's vest. Booker couldn't help but laugh heartily, putting his hand on Anna's head.

"Be patient, Anna. We have to drop off our luggage at the hotel first." He said, making Anna pout childishly.

"But daddy," she murmured, puffing out her cheeks. Booker shook his head a little.

"Sorry, sweetheart, but we can't be walkin' around carrying our luggage everywhere."

"Fine," She crossed her arms over her chest, marching off to some random direction.

"Uhm, Anna… it's this way." Booker stuttered, pointing towards the street they were supposed to head down. She turned grumpily and walked that way instead. She couldn't stay mad for long, though. There were so many people there, so different from the one's she'd seen in America. Many of them wore different types of clothing, and some even had berets on their head.

"This is so amazing," Anna uttered, which made Booker smile.

"I'm glad you like it," he grinned, ruffling her hair a little as they walked towards their hotel. When they got to their room, Booker was more than just a little surprised. He'd rented the room from an ad in the papers, and he didn't really have a lot of money, but the room was extraordinarily nice. It wasn't anything special, really, but the balcony, and the view… it was amazing.

"This is really nice," Booker murmured to himself as he looked out at the balcony and put their luggage down between the two single beds. Anna sat down on the edge of her bed, kicking her feet carefully back and forth while Booker made his way onto the balcony to look out at the city. There were so many people, and so much to see. He could sense movement, and turned to his right. The neighbor balcony was only about 1 meter apart from his, and there was a woman there standing with her back turned against him. Looking at her silhouette, she seemed so beautiful. Dark, brown hair tied into a ponytail, her blue and white dress blowing slightly in the breeze.

Booker shook his head and went back inside. This wasn't really the time to be gazing at women.

"Want to go see the Eiffel tower now?" He asked Anna with a smile, something which made her jump up from the bed with a wide smile.

"Yes! Uh, papa?" She asked, confused as she looked at him. "You're bleeding."

…

"It reaches so high up into the sky!" Anna exclaimed, her eyes flickering towards the top of the tower, forcing her to lean her head backwards.

"Do you think you'll dare go all the way to the top?" Booker asked playfully, making Anna pout a little.

"I think maybe the lower floor is good enough, daddy," she murmured.

"Then we won't go any further up than that," he smiled, and they made their way to the park beneath the tower. There were so many people there. Some sold souvenirs, some were painting pictures. There were people of every sort there. When they approached the stairs that lead up the tower, they were met by a man and a woman. They looked quite similar, actually, wearing the same colored clothing and everything.

"Would you want a ticket for the top floor, or bottom floor?" The man asked formally, his head tilting just a little.

"Obviously they'll go for the top floor," the woman said, looking at the man.

"I think they'll go for the bottom one." The man said.

"What makes you think that?"

"I just feel it."

"We'll uh… we'll have two tickets for the bottom floor, please." Booker uttered, looking a bit confused. Man, French people sure were special.

"Told you so," the man whispered as he handed them the tickets and they started making their way up the stairs.

"He always chooses the bottom floor. I really thought this time might be different, though."

"You always think that, dear sister."

Booker and Anna made their way up the stairs and shower their ticket at the lowest floor. They walked out, and Booker realized how high they were into the air already on the bottom floor. Anna rushed to the edge and stood on her tiptoes to look up over the railing, trying to see as much as possible. Booker smiled and walked up behind her, lifting her up so that she could see more.

"Look, papa, I can see things that are so far away!" She exclaimed, smiling and giggling joyfully. Booker looked out at their surroundings, and the incredible view they had, and he understood why his little girl had wanted to badly to go to Paris. But somehow, he felt like their trip had been so much longer and more difficult than it had been. It felt almost as if they had been fighting for their lives only to get there. He shrugged it off. Man, he'd been having such weird thoughts lately, and it confused him.

After a while of holding his daughter up, Booker put Anna back down and stretched his arms a little. He took a step back to really take in the view, whereas Anna turned around to look at him, and suddenly his vision turned blurry again. His eyes flickered, and he could feel his heart throbbing in his chest. It was happening again, and he couldn't explain why. And in front of him was that woman again. It was as if she was flickering on and off over Anna's figure, and he was sure he had seen her somewhere before. She did look like Anna in some ways, but… Who was she? What was going on? He suddenly remembered the girl on the balcony earlier. The same dress, the same hair, everything was… the same.

"Oh, Mr. DeWitt, isn't it amazing?" The woman exclaimed with a dreamy voice, doing a little spin before putting her hands on the railings, peeking over the edge. "I knew you'd get us here, Mr. DeWitt, I just knew it!" She sighed joyfully. It seemed so unreal. Booker didn't understand at all, but the young woman grabbed his hand and pulled him to the edge. "Isn't it beautiful, Mr. DeWitt?"

"I… I don't…" He uttered, putting a hand on his forehead. Everything was spinning. Why was this happening? Was he going crazy? Someone spoke behind him. It sounded like that man who sold him the tickets.

"The mind of the subject will desperately struggle to create memories where none exist. Look at that, dear sister… it's a prime example."

"What's happening to me?" Booker growled, spinning around. People were looking at him with weird expression, but they were different people all the time, flickering back and forth, and it drove him crazy.

"Papa?" Anna's voice called.

"Mr. DeWitt? You're bleeding again…"

He had no control. But he was starting to remember. Memories from some alternate universe pouring into his mind, and it was too much for him. He couldn't keep memories from two different lives at a time, it was too much for his head to handle, and he bled even more, his head throbbing with pain more and more with every passing second.

"Elizabeth," he murmured as he spun around, repeating it over and over again. "Elizabeth… Elizabeth… Where do I know that name? How do I…" Everything stopped. Everyone, and everything, went silent, and Booker looked up. They were still there, on the Eiffel tower, but it felt as if it was only him and her. Booker and Elizabeth. No Anna.

"Mr. DeWitt," Elizabeth said with a sigh, a hand on her chest as he looked at him.

"Elizabeth," Booker whispered, and for some reason he could feel a lump form in his throat as his eyes began to water. "Elizabeth," he said again as he practically fell forwards, embracing her desperately, as if trying to ascertain himself that she was in fact real. He didn't know what was going on. His head hurt, and he was terrified.

"Oh, Mr. DeWitt," Elizabeth whispered with a sad tone, cradling his head in her arms, gently stroking her hands through his rough hair. "How much you have sacrificed for my sake… Opening this tear was no good idea… you're hurting so much."

"But I…" He groaned in pain… "I wanted to make you happy."

"Oh but you have already, Mr. DeWitt!" Elizabeth exclaimed joyfully, leaving a warm kiss on his forehead. "And I know you will take me to Paris someday. But what do you say we do it properly? Let's… let's kick some ass up there in the skies and escape… together. Let's undo this tear and return, so that you can get your memories sorted out." She muttered with a smile, tears welling up in her eyes.

"Okay, Elizabeth…"