During his day with Elizabeth, Booker learnt two things. The first was that she was really truly glad to be out of that tower and out of Columbia. Every small, daily task that most people either hated or felt nothing for, she saw as a grand adventure. She circled the clothing boutiques and markets in the same way he imagined he looked when he first arrived at Columbia. What is this magical place? What are all these strange things? He couldn't help but smile at her all day. Her happiness was infectious, and he couldn't think of the last time he truly enjoyed himself like this. Just him and his beautiful daughter. He liked the way she gawked at the horses as they pulled carriages down the street. A flying city was normal for her, but a horse drawn carriage was a marvel. He brought her her first cafe made coffee at lunch, and Elizabeth asked the waiter a dozen questions about what it was like being a waiter. As endearing as Booker found it, the surly waiter almost took her questioning for sarcasm until Booker cut in and explained that she was from 'the country.'

The second thing Booker learnt, and it was something he always suspected, was that women's clothing was incredibly expensive. He silently began to thank Ethel for her rude assumption that Booker was unable to clothe his own daughter, because it almost turned out to be true. After purchasing the bare basics a large chunk of his cash was gone. With the rent money he got back off Bill Bob, he had managed to buy Elizabeth some much needed underwear, shoes and a couple of nightgowns, a few days worth of food and some basic cleaning supplies. Pawning what little Silver Eagles he had left got him enough to buy a new basin, much larger than the others he had back in his apartment, making up some excuse about her needing more water to wash with. Elizabeth also found a sewing kit that was reasonably priced, insisting that a machine wasn't really necessary to fix the dresses Mrs Robert gave her. After that he had a modest sum left for whatever emergencies he might face between now and whenever he managed to earn some more cash, whenever that might be. He never had a reliable stream of work to count on. He had a little something in the works, something he had abandoned in favour of going to Columbia, but he was trying not to think about it today. It wasn't work he could be proud of.

He managed to herd Elizabeth back to the apartment by sunset. Every time he attempted to lead her home earlier in the afternoon, she saw something else she wanted to see. They walked by a man making bread in the window of a bakery. Then they had to go into the bakery to talk to the man about making bread. Then she saw a group of children playing hopscotch on the side of the road. Booker talked her out of joining the game, but that didn't stop her from asking the children how to play. When they passed a pet store, Booker thought he would never get home, but Elizabeth seemed upset by the cages that the animals were kept in, and wanted to leave quicker than he would have imagined.

Elizabeth gave Bill Bob a friendly wave as they lugged their shopping back into the building and climbed the steps back to the apartment. Booker saw the old man give her a smile that he only reserved for the sweet and innocent. The look Booker received in stark contrast, felt both an admonishment and a warning.

Don't fuck it up, Son. The look said. I'm watching you. Booker nodded and climbed the stairs after Elizabeth. He wasn't planning of fucking anything up. Tomorrow he was going to start looking into some good, honest work. He used to get some decent cases back when he first started. He didn't know if his reputation was able to overcome twenty years of taking the seediest, dirtiest jobs New York had to offer, but he had to try. Dewitt Investigations had to go legitimate.

First, Booker had to take care of a little problem. The men had been back. Booker saw the car out of the corner of his eye as he returned with Elizabeth. It drove off as he entered the building. Just a warning, was all. Just reminding him that they were still around, waiting. He would have to take care of that real soon. Before they thought to get Elizabeth involved. Right now, she was just a woman who was seen once with him. Maybe they thought she was just nobody, just a fling. Just a silly young girl getting herself involved with an older man. As much as he hated thinking of her like that, he hoped that's all they thought she was. But if they kept seeing her around, well...they might start getting ideas. Booker had worked with these men long enough to know that they didn't mess around.

They found a package wrapped up neatly in front of his door. Booker nearly panicked, but he saw that it was meant for Elizabeth. A package from Ethel filled with womanly things. Booker could have done without the information, but Elizabeth gladly held it up for him to see and happily explained to him what they were for. Thank you Elizabeth, he thought. Daddy doesn't need to know about this...

When they entered the apartment, Booker took to cleaning off the makeshift kitchen, storing the food as high as he could to keep the rats from nibbling on it.

"Where can I put all this?" Elizabeth asked, holding up her bags of clothes and gesturing to the suitcase Ethel had given her. Booker looked about the room, and gestured to the trunk at the foot of his bed.

"Just tip my stuff out of that. It'll do for now, until I can get you a dresser of your own."

Elizabeth nodded and unlatched the trunk. Instead of tipping it out, she methodically removed the contents and searched the apartment for somewhere to put almost each individual item. The clothes she found went in his dresser. Some old paperwork went in his desk. She threw out some old newspapers that he confirmed he no longer needed. Some old mementos were arranged on his previously bare shelf, almost instantly making the place feel a bit more like home.

'She gets that from her mother...' He mused, but he shut out that thought before it got too painful and confusing. He had to avoid seeing the similarities between Elizabeth and her mother. A woman he barely knew when he impregnated her on the second date. A woman who was probably cursing him straight to hell for what he had done. She had been a sweet girl, at first. But a few months with his young self took it's toll on her. He remembered the nights he would come home late, drunker than he should be with a new, heavily pregnant bride waiting for him at home. Although he could no longer recall what she looked like, he still remembered the look on her face on those nights. Like she was scared of her own future with this man. The poor girl didn't even get to have a future, thanks to him. Then to add insult to injury, he rejected the child she gave her life to provide him with.

Gonna be different this time, He told himself as he started to put together a small dinner for them both. I'm gonna be a different man. I'll try to make her hate me a little less from her grave.

Elizabeth lit the room as the sun disappeared behind the buildings. They ate their dinner at Booker's desk, using it as a makeshift dining table. Elizabeth chattered in between bites, talking about everything she had seen during the day. Booker ate quietly, occasionally chiming in to agree with her or ask her a question. He wasn't used to having someone to talk to over meals, but then again, neither did she. She ate every meal up till this one alone in her tower.

"This must be new for you." He casually mentioned during a comfortable silence. "Eating a meal, I mean. With another person."

"Yeah. I guess it is." She tilted her head to stare down at her plate, but Booker noticed the smile that crossed her face as she did so. "But really, doing anything with another person is new for me."

"What does it feel like?" He asked. "Being free?"

"It's like...being born, I guess. I didn't really have a life before. Now I do. All that waiting, all that dreaming...now I get a chance to turn it into something real. Something normal."

Booker turned his attention back to his empty plate, feeling no small amount of guilt for the role he played in her confinement. Both roles. Just as he was responsible for himself handing her over to Robert Lutece, he couldn't help but feel responsible for Comstock's actions as well. He was one split second decision away from becoming him, after all.

"I guess I could ask you the same thing." Elizabeth asked. "How does it feel to eat across from another person for once?"

"What makes you think I always ate alone?"

"It's a wild guess, Booker." She said with a smirk.

"Yeah, well, it ain't wrong." Truth be told, Booker neglected to eat on any defined schedule. He ate when he was hungry and when he remembered. Planning a meal for one person just got too fucking sad for him a long time ago. "But it's nice. I think I can get used to it."

"So..." Elizabeth said after a small silence. "What would you usually do in the evenings?"

Booker scoffed. You don't wanna know, baby...

"Well, I wouldn't be here. I would be down at the bar. Maybe even Finnigans, if I was feelin lucky."

"What's Finnigans?"

"Finn calls it a bar, but there's some gaming tables out the back. No one goes there for the atmosphere, that's for sure."

"You would go there every night?" She asked, crunching away on a piece of carrot.

"Yeah. Maybe even Mick's, across the park. Depends on who kicked me out first."

"Oh...you would never stay in?"

"Sometimes, yeah."

"What would you do when you stayed in?"

"Jesus, are you collecting information for somebody?" He snapped, instantly regretting his outburst when he saw the look on her face.

"I'm sorry..." She lowered her eyes to her food. "I shouldn't pry like that, should I?"

"No, shit, I'm sorry. You're just askin'." But I can't answer, Elizabeth. Your father would get drunk, jerk off then pass out. End of evening. Those are his only indoor hobbies. He was nothing before you came back. Don't ask questions about him.

"Look, what do you want to do?" He asked, getting the attention off himself. "Huh? What do you want to get up to this evening? Didn't you have some dresses to take in?"

She nodded and forced a small smile.

"Well I'll set you up somewhere to take care of that while I go over this place and start clearing out some of the junk." The more he looked around his apartment, the more he couldn't believe how long he kept it like this. Some of the horses on these racing forms had been dead for years.

Elizabeth already knew her own measurements, all she had to do was measure the dresses and start sewing. Booker watched her out of the corner of his eye while he filled an old hessian bag with the junk he had put off getting rid of for too long. She picked out a few dresses that took her fancy to start with and sat cross legged on his bed, humming to herself as she worked. Booker had to stop himself from staring. Her newly developed pinky finger still stuck out uselessly as she worked. He guessed it would take some time getting used to it. Still, her sweet little hands worked tirelessly as she quickly stitched the fabric together. Ethel had taken care to only give Elizabeth the more demure of the girl's dresses. Booker remembered Ethel's daughters, New York women through and through. The older one lewdly propositioned him one night after a new years eve party in the building. It was only the potential wrath of Bill Bob that stopped him from taking her up on the offer. Booker had to bite back a gulp as he realised Elizabeth might be in possession of that very dress she wore that night.

How long before she starts to talk to guys like that? She's a grown woman now, even if she is a little stunted. She's pretty though, everyone says so. How long before other men start to notice her, huh? How are you gonna handle that? You gonna explain to her what those guys want from her? Jesus, does she even know? His devious mind snapped back to the First Lady, thinking of how inexperienced she really was, but he reigned the memory in and slammed it back below his conscious where it belonged.

You didn't know. Granted, you should probably not feel up random women when you had a daughter unaccounted for, but still. You didn't know. She didn't know.

And now you do. So reign it in.

"What do you think?" Elizabeth interrupted his thoughts, holding up her newly sewed dress. It was caramel coloured, with brown embellishments and a small hint of fur around the lowcut collar. He thought it was the type of dress he might have seen on one of the ladies that accompanied some of the richer folk that somehow ended up at Finns. It would look beautiful on her, anything would. What could he say? How did a father react to his daughter's appearance?

"It's nice." Was all he said before turning back to place the hessian bag full of rubbish next to the door. Elizabeth started on her next dress. Light green, with white lace. A bit more conservative than the last.

"Listen, I'm gonna go out tomorrow and get some work sorted out." He told her. "So I'm gonna turn out some lights and try get some sleep."

"Sure. Do you want me to go downstairs and do this?"

"No, you just stay right there. I can sleep with the light on." He turned off all but the light closest to the bed and arranged his own makeshift camp. He quietly undressed and settled in. "You gonna stay up in that bed tonight?"

"Do you want me to?"

No

"Yeah. The floor's no good for you."

He dozed off while listening to her humming. At some point he vaguely registered her moving around and rummaging through her trunk, probably to retrieve a nightgown and get dressed for bed, but she didn't go to sleep right away. He wasn't sure how long she stayed up for. He dozed on and off, enjoying every little waking moment when his eyes fluttered open and he saw her sitting there, absorbed in her task. God, he completely forgot what it was like to have company in his shitty little apartment. Just knowing she was there seemed to sooth the edgy man. As much as he distrusted the Lutece's, he silently thanked them for giving him this one chance. Even as he drifted off to sleep, hand on his heart he didn't feel like drinking, which was his usual nightly ritual. He couldn't even fathom walking into Finn's right now for a game. He didn't want the booze, the easy women or the cards. He wanted nothing more than this chance and he finally drifted off to sleep content in the knowledge that he finally had something worth having again.

He slept blissfully, dreaming of nothing much at all. He was woken up several hours later with Elizabeth squirming her way underneath the covers with him. She curled her back into him, and in his sleepy haze he couldn't help but drape his arm over her and pull her tighter. You strange woman, he thought. You don't need to come down here with me. He gently stroked her hair as he dozed for a few minutes, but she remained conspicuously still.

"Booker?"

"Hmmm?"

"I want you to know that I don't feel bad."

"Hmmm?"

"About...about the First Lady...I don't...I don't hate you for it."

He stayed still. Leave it be, Elizabeth. Just leave it be. Forget it. Let it go. It doesn't matter. I didn't know. You didn't know.

"...and I don't want you to hate me." She whispered finally.

Is that what you think, Elizabeth? Do you think I hate you for what happened? I should have kept my hands to myself. Lesson learnt. Let's be thankful it didn't go too far. Let's thank Songbird for crashing into us before I had a chance to plant the seed for some serious regret. Let's be thankful that I can just tell myself I did it for your benefit and not my own, because you weren't feeling yourself.

"Booker? Say something..."

"Go to sleep, baby." He kissed the back of her head, happy to pretend that they weren't having this conversation. Happy to ignore that nagging part of his brain that was telling him he was holding her inappropriately. Happy to ignore that lazy heat building in his groin. Happy to ignore how the darkness and the night acted as a blanket underneath which he could let his senses react to his daughter like she was something a little bit more. He would shut it all away in the morning and it could join the rest of those dark thoughts and memories that festered underneath the surface.

"Ok...Goodnight, Booker."