She felt sick to her stomach. Shaking. But strangely...giddy. Like someone had just told her a funny joke and she was trying not to laugh. But it wasn't laughter that was threatening to take her over.

"I can't explain it, Booker." She crossed her arms across her chest and rubbed her shoulders. She could feel the goosebumps through the fabric of her newly acquired jacket. "I just feel...off."

Of course you feel off, you just killed someone.

Booker's gaze turned from concern to realization, and finally settled on a conflicted grimace as he ran his hands through his hair. He briefly turned to walk away from her, but changed his mind and turned back, letting out an exasperated sigh. Was he mad at her for killing Daisy? Did he even have the right to be mad at her? He had killed so many people as they ran across Columbia, but she was the first to stab someone in the back. Booker always killed face to face.

"Booker..." She started, hugging her arms around her trembling body. "Booker, what's wrong?" She wasn't sure if she meant with her or him. Whatever he was thinking, he seemed to settle on a plan. He walked towards her and rested his hands on her shoulders. Was that her still trembling, or was it him?

"Ok, Elizabeth.. What you're feeling now is normal, ok?"

She nodded silently at him.

"You just took a life, and you've seen more than your fair share of death out here. Your body just...wants to know it's really alive, you understand?"

Again she nodded, although she wasn't too sure what he was saying. The theory made sense, but what did he mean by 'alive'? Surely her body would know she was still breathing.

"Do you trust me?" He asked. She nodded again, after a brief pause. She couldn't explain why, but she did. She trusted him. She felt some of the tension in her body melt away as his hands travelled down to her hips. Despite everything she knew about him, she felt safer the closer he got to her.

"Then let me take care of you."

She felt him grip her hips and suddenly she was falling backwards, landing on a hard, unforgiving surface. The room got colder and her anxiety spiked. His towering presence left her, and all she had was a handful of strangers staring at her over the top of their surgical masks. She hated their eyes. She hated how they looked at her. She tried to move but her arms were pinned to the bench below her.

"Get away from me." She warned them. They took no notice. Even without them moving she felt the pinpricks sink into her flesh. Whatever they injected into her made her skin sizzle. The pain washed over her body like a terrifying wave and she bit back a scream.

"He won't come for you."

Elizabeth sat straight up from her sleep, barely biting back a shriek. The unfamiliar place she found herself in took her by surprise. Was she still in the Lab? Was this her new tower? Is this where her father kept her now that she had run from him?

A soft grunt from the floor brought a sense of security to her. She looked down through slightly moist eyes to the figure sprawled out beneath her. She could just make out his sleeping face though the moonlight coming in from the window above where he lay. There he was. Her father. Her real father. Not the imposter that imprisoned her, the one who sold her. Reality slowly came back to her. She was in New York. She had fled Columbia. Songbird was dead. Comstock was dead. She was a normal girl now, living in a normal apartment. She felt a slight pang of anxiety as she looked around and saw no tears. She would never see them again, would she? She had given that all up. Her anxiety waned as she looked back down at Booker. That's why she gave it all up. This wonderful mess of a man sprawled out on the floor had inspired such hope in her that she had given up her almost godlike powers to be with him.

After her nightmare of being back at Comstock house, she wanted to be closer to him. She spent months in that place, every day waiting for him to break her out. In the quieter times, when the doctors left her alone, she would lay as still as she could and listen for him. The sounds of an approaching Booker were hard to miss, and she kept waiting for the gunfire and the shouts of wounded and dying men. In those last few days before her 'surgery', she had begun to entertain the thought that maybe he wasn't coming for her at all. Half out of faith in Booker and half out of spite for Comstock, Elizabeth never truly let go of her hope.

She had gone from a lab rat to a normal girl in a matter of days, and the man she had to thank for that was lying uncomfortably on the floor. She threw off the bedcovers and lightly put her feet on the floor. She padded over to where he lay and crawled next to him. In his sleepy state he submitted to her intrusion, lightly covering her with the blanket and planting a small, sleepy kiss on the back of her head as she moulded her back into his front. Happily content with her new sleeping arrangement, she drifted back into a dreamless sleep.

Firm knocking on the door awoke her a few hours later. The sun was beaming down on her face and she felt Booker stir behind her. The knocking continued. Booker finally relented and climbed to his feet with a frustrated grunt. Elizabeth rubbed her eyes and rolled towards the door, just in time for Booker to open it.

"Good morning!" Mrs Robert bellowed as he opened the door. Elizabeth saw the woman's eyes scan the apartment and come to rest on her as she sat up on her knees. "So sorry to intrude!"

"Good morning, Mrs Robert!" Elizabeth chimed happily, but she felt the woman's gaze harden as she saw where Elizabeth had been sleeping on the floor in little more than her underwear.

"Good morning, Dear." She replied, her eyes scanning the rest of the room, over the bed that had obviously been slept in by someone and finally coming to land back on Booker, standing shirtless in the doorway. The look she gave him was bordering on hostile, even Elizabeth could see that. "I was just downstairs in the basement, going through my girls old things-"

"Really?" Booker sarcastically interrupted her. "You were doing that at six in the morning?"

"Yes, and I found some clothes I thought your dear girl would make some use out of."

Booker nodded with some kind of faint recognition as the large woman produced an over packed suitcase and forced it into the room.

"Thank you, Mrs Roberts. That's very kind of you!" Elizabeth had wondered how she would handle her clothing situation. The dress she had borrowed from the First Lady was torn in several places and hardly seemed appropriate. Mrs Robert had great timing.

"Some of them might be a bit big for you dear, but I'm sure we can make do. You can take them in if you want, I doubt my girls will ever wear them again."

"Very kind of you." Booker echoed Elizabeth's sentiments, although his tone suggested he felt otherwise.

"Now, if you ever feel like having a chat, dear girl, Mr Robert and I live just downstairs. You're welcome any time."

"Thank you, Mrs Robert..." Booker answered for her, attempting to close the door.

"My girls will be visiting over the winter, you must meet them if you're still in the area!"

"That sounds lovely, Mrs Robert. Thank you!" Elizabeth shouted at the woman as Booker managed to close the door. Elizabeth saw the frustration creep over his sleepy face like a weed. His hands ran through his hair and Elizabeth felt his gaze fall heavily on her.

"What are you doing down there?" He asked, striding over to his desk to retrieve a packet of cigarettes from his drawer. Elizabeth stroked her newly formed pinky finger with her thumb, a habit she felt herself developing. Was he mad at her for joining him on the floor?

"I...just wanted to sleep with you..." She admitted. No sense in lying to him, but she didn't want to tell him about the dream. She was a normal girl now. Normal girls weren't afraid of their dreams.

"Jesus, Elizabeth..." He lit the cigarette and threw the packet back in the drawer. Elizabeth stood up and scuttled over to fetch the suitcase Mrs Robert left for her.

"It was nice of Mrs Robert to give me all these clothes..." Elizabeth started to change the conversation. "I guess we didn't have time to ask Songbird to grab me a few things before he wrecked the tower, huh?"

The only response she got out of Booker was a grunt. Maybe he wasn't a morning person. Elizabeth sure was. She used to run to her window back in the tower early in the morning to watch the people make their way to their work. The skylines would start up first, just before sunrise, then the gondolas. People would pack tightly into the transports and Elizabeth would watch the hustle and bustle for just over an hour before she sadly remembered that unlike all those people out there, she had nowhere to go. She smiled to herself as she pulled out a pale pink dress. She could go anywhere she wanted today. Anywhere at all.

"This looks nice." She held up the dress to show him. Sure it was a bit big, but she could make it work. "Do you have a sewing machine? I mean, I can still wear this, but I might have to take some of these in..."

Booker sat on his desk, cigarette in hand, and looked at the dress like it was sewn by Comstock himself.

"What's the matter?" She asked.

"I can get you new clothes." Was all he said. Elizabeth stood up and began to collect her underwear from where she folded it at the foot of the bed. Her corset was ripped in a few places, as well as her stockings. The bottoms of her petticoats were in ruins, although she hoped her newly acquired dress would hide that. The slip she had worn to bed was still in fairly good condition, but she needed more than one. Although she had done her best to clean them recently, her panties were no longer in a state to be worn. She held up the pile of underwear for him to see.

"Well, you have your chance here. The case is full of dresses. I still need some more underwear."

"That's not the point."

"Well, what is the point?"

He sighed and took another drag of his cigarette. He shook his head and walked over the the corner of the room where he kept a gas stove and a small steel kettle.

"Nevermind..." He growled. "Coffee?"

She nodded and Booker made a point of turning his back to her. Elizabeth read him loud and clear and began to dress herself in what little privacy their small apartment afforded her. Her eyes fell on the boarded up door on the other side of the room. He must have done that for a reason, although Elizabeth couldn't see why he would want to keep it that way now that she was here. Especially if this was where he worked. It might make more sense to open that little room up and keep his bed in there. However, Booker was not a man who made sense and something at the back of her head was telling her to not press the issue.

"So..." He called over his shoulder, his demeanour lifting somewhat. "Where do you want to go today?"

Elizabeth felt a spark of excitement that she hadn't felt since she danced on the boardwalk back in Battleship Bay. It felt like a lifetime ago that she had been so happy. New York wasn't quite Paris, but neither was it Columbia. It still had so much that she had never seen or experienced. But she had to admit that she knew very little about what her Father's city had to offer. As much as she wanted to see every sight there was, she was content to just walk around and do normal everyday things. That was truly the most exciting thing for her right now.

"Oh well, we can go and find me some more clothes..." She started. "Then we have to get some food and then maybe something that I can use to clean this place for you...oh, then can we go and have dinner somewhere? Or coffee? Is there a market around? What about a library?"

"Ok, slow down there." He chuckled, quickly glancing over at her to make sure she was dressed before turning around and handing her her coffee. "The Sodom Below only has so many hours in the day..."

"I know, I know." She smiled sweetly. "What do you think we should do?"

"Well, today should be a supply run. We have a bit of cash, so we should use it while we have it."

She smiled gratefully at him while she sipped her coffee and nibbled at one of the rolls Mrs Robert gave her yesterday evening. Truth be told, she was happy just being a normal person. Walking around a normal, not floating city buying groceries with her father. Shopping idly for clothes and food was a new adventure for her that she couldn't wait to set out on. Sure, she had read books that would detail the mundane tasks most people saw as a chore, but she had no real reference for what it was actually like.

"That sounds good, Mr Dewitt!" She quipped, smirking at the obvious discomfort he got out of her calling him that. "Of course we'll have to drop by a library so I can pick up a few books on ranch life."

"Smart ass."

Elizabeth sipped her coffee and stared out of the window while Booker got dressed. She could just see him out of the corner of her eye and almost had to stop herself from staring. She told herself it was mild curiosity for the male form, but Elizabeth was not a great liar like her Father. Not even to herself. The first part of her dream came back to her as she turned her gaze back down at the street. Before it descended into a nightmare, she had been dreaming about what happened between them on the First Lady. Those few confusing but breathtaking moments he gave her that took her away from the chaos. Those few moments where her distant, serious protector turned into a gentle man who held her and whispered sweet things in her ear.

It wasn't right, he said. Just forget about it. How am I supposed to forget about that? She wondered.

When Booker wandered back into her field of view he was dressed in a dark brown pair of trousers and a light coloured shirt, looking as handsome as ever.

"You ready?" He asked.

"Sure."

"You ok?"

"Yeah. Of course."

"It's no Columbia out there."

"Is that good or bad?" She asked.

"Both. You'll like it. And if you don't then you'll fit right in."

She finished her coffee and headed with Booker towards the door.

"Not expecting any clients to turn up today while we're gone?" She asked, gesturing at his business name stencilled on the door. From far away the sign looked professional, but up close Elizabeth saw how the letters were cracked and peeling away from the glass. He would have to replace them soon.

"Yeah, that hasn't been a problem for a while." He replied, locking the door and pocketing the keys.

Elizabeth peeked through to the administration area and waved to Mrs Robert who was sweeping the lounge area. Booker herded her to the left and out into the street.

The smell, the heat and the noise of a bustling city all hit her at once. It was relatively early, but there was still so many people rushing about. As Booker led her down the street she could hear everything from jovial greetings to vile curses. The smell of what she later learned was horse manure was mixed with freshly baking bread and smoke. Everywhere she looked she saw something that piqued her curiosity and her brain almost went into overload trying to decipher everything that was going on around her.

"Stay close." Booker called from just behind her as she overtook him. She couldn't help but regress back to that girl who was just liberated from a lifetime of confinement. The guilt of what happened with the Vox, the pain of what she went through in Comstock house and all the knowledge of the universe she briefly gained then lost all melted away in the excitement of walking down the street.

She was no one's lamb down here. She was no one's ticket out of debt. She was no specimen. No heir. There was no pressure to be or not be someone. She could be whoever or whatever she wanted. Right now she just wanted to be a normal girl, in a pale pink dress that was slightly too large for her, running down the street with an exasperated man hot on her heels.