BioQuest

"Hm," Elizabeth stalled and tried to do a quick recount in her mind of their supplies in Olympus. They'd need them for Booker for sure, maybe Jack too depending on where all that blood was from... She closed her eyes and rested a hand against the craggy wall. "What does Tenenbaum have for supplies?"

"Bandages, antiseptic ointment, a small lab of chemicals..." His voice strayed and she opened her eyes as he looked at the tunnel roof. "Footsteps above us," he dismissed. "They can't hear."

"What's it matter?" Booker interrupted, exhaling sharply. He had to be feeling that injury now, the adrenaline was fading. He shifted to take a knee, continuing. "Anything she needs, you can find easier at your lab."

As her eyes adjusted to the weak lighting, she saw Booker brace a hand against his head. Elizabeth turned to him so quickly she nearly stumbled on debris by her feet and she hovered a hand near him. "Booker, what is it? Are you--"

"Tell me someone else sees this blue light," he mumbled, wincing. The tunnel had sparse orange lights burning low, some flickering, and even that was enough to catch the sweat beading on Booker's face.

"Lot 192," Jack whispered. He put his hand on Elizabeth's shoulder, moving past her to Booker. "He got the dose...?"

"Listen, Jack, it-- ngh," Booker grunted and dull blue electricity arced on his forearm, blinking out just as suddenly.

"Down to one." Jack breathed the sentence, sinking to the floor. "And Booker could die." He pulled at his tie, ripping the shirt collar open so forcefully that the top button rattled off down the tunnel somewhere.

Footsteps and rose petals fell, coming closer as the three of them waited behind cover. The crossbow was gone and they had two weapons between them… If they didn’t know about the tunnels, they’d have nowhere to go but the dead end in Kashmir.

So this is what it looks like when he’s not faking his own death.

Elizabeth kept low and reminded herself – this was good intel against Fontaine. “The tunnels,” she whispered to Booker. He nodded, tapping Jack on the shoulder. “Take the lead.”

By Pirate Cashoo on dA

Following him again by the hand, Elizabeth went with Jack to the tunnel’s entrance. Nothing but a vent beside the restaurant to the regular citizens and even smugglers. These tunnels, they belonged to Tenenbaum and her runaway family.

“There’re plenty o’ ways to find you, son,” Atlas taunted. Jack crawled into the tunnel ahead of her, waving her in once he’d shuffled forward enough. “And I will save you from Ryan’s men, you mark my words.”

Keep talking, Fontaine. Tell me your story.

Yet Fontaine wasn’t using his other code words against Jack… Tenenbaum knew about them, so they all know. His men didn’t know.

Elizabeth slid into the vent behind Jack with a smirk. That was leverage in the right hands. Booker hunkered into the tunnel behind her, pulling the vent cover on behind him, and put his hand on her back with a little too much force.

“We need to move,” he said as plain as small talk. Jack picked up the pace with them in line behind her, although…

“Booker, what did you do?” She ran her hand along the wall as they rushed forward, bumps and nicks mapping a mental image for her as they went.

“I got him a little present too.” The explosion rocked the frame of the tunnel and only Booker kept steady.

“Come on,” he ordered, helping Elizabeth hang onto her balance.

“Wait,” Jack interrupted. She could see the curve of the wall ahead… They were at a fork in the tunnel. “Which way? The medical pavilion or home?”

What do you want to do, Elizabeth?

Suggestions from last chapter:

She returned his second gesture to sneak around their potential attackers and he gave a curt nod, giving his attention to the thugs outside the bathysphere.

“H-he’s not here,” a third, jittery voice muttered, seeming on the edge of screaming, crying, or laughing. “He’s not, he’s not, he’s not.”

Elizabeth ran her hand along the floor of the bathysphere, smooth wooden flooring even underneath the seats.

At least Ryan’s consistently over the top…

Her fingers grazed the box, and she pulled it towards her as Booker wrapped his hand around her arm.

“I can smell him,” the woman breathed, her voice fading as if she’d turned away. A ploy…?

Booker led her out of the bathysphere in a walking crouch, passing them by towards the battered entrance of the Kashmir.

“Elizabeth,” he whispered, shooting her a half-hearted scowl. “When did you start keeping secrets?”

“I’m not, not from you,” she answered, resting her hand on his shoulder. “Jack was here. And so was Fontaine.”

Booker shook his head, but he held his position and simply waited. Seconds passed in stillness and the people waiting for them had wandered off in whatever madness had them…

Although Elizabeth knew. She knew too well exactly what it was.

“Well, they’re not here now and we don’t have much in the way of time,” he advised, taking out a pistol in addition to his shotgun. “We’re going to Fort Frolic, that’s where the Vita Chamber’s hidden.”

He stood and held out the pistol to her. “I am a detective, Elizabeth.”

“Booker.” That was a quiet, steady voice she recognized. “Can we go home?”

She stood and took him in, dried blood set into his suit. A sleeve was ripped at the shoulder and right over his chest, an entry point showed where he’d been shot… But he was here. “Jack, I…”

Booker grabbed them both, pulling them down, and then she heard it. Metal clacking overhead, faint humming, and last, an Irish brogue.

“Boyo,” the man’s voice was clear but far enough that she knew they could evade him. If only barely. “Where are ya now, boyo?”

But to where? The bathysphere, Kashmir, the tunnels? Jack held her hand tightly and met her gaze. She held onto the gift box in her other hand, and in his other hand, he had the pistol from Booker.

What do you want to do, Elizabeth?

Suggestions from last chapter:

Jack.

She could see him waiting outside the Kashmir if she closed her eyes, blood speckled on his white suit jacket and something between fear and determination in his eyes.

At least he had the crossbow... And seeing him in her mind's eye, even like that, was better than the Big Daddy that almost drilled into their bathysphere. Drastically better.

Elizabeth reclined against the bench, crossing her legs. If nothing else, she could appear more poised than she felt.

"He's at the Kashmir Restaurant, I..." She could tell Booker about the gunfire that started right before she left for the labs. She could tell him that Jack was sure Fontaine was in there and he went to find him. But with Booker injured in a confined space at the bottom of the ocean, nothing to do about it but wait...

She pulled a kerchief from her pocket, reaching out for his hand. There was no need to distress him now. The bathysphere wouldn't move any faster and Elizabeth could always tell him later. "I'm sorry I broke the flask."

He scoffed, but Booker put his hand in hers to let her wrap it tightly. "Come on, Elizabeth, I said forget it."

Yet somehow, he changed in a matter of seconds. When she would look up, he would look out at the lights or schools of fish passing instead.

No wonder he lost so much money on gambling.

"Jack won't even notice, I'd bet. Just couldn't stop mentioning that party." Booker forced out a breathy laugh, but the smile was genuine. However slight.

"Speaking of which," he cleared his throat, digging in an inner vest pocket with his good hand.

"Booker?" She'd finished wrapping his injury, and Elizabeth leaned back. She tilted her head and felt a smile she couldn't fight any easier than he had. From his vest, he took out a dark blue matte velvet box with a thin pink bow keeping it shut.

"Happy New Year's," he almost whispered. "Figured it was about time I got you a new necklace." He held the box back at first and she teasingly scowled at him, crossing her arms. Of course she had already guessed Booker would stall like that, but half the fun was humoring him. "Before you ask, Jack helped."

As the bathysphere settled in, he held the gift box out to her.

A bullet whizzed between them, lodging into the thick metal frame of the window. They both reacted in an instant, taking cover, although Elizabeth hadn't the slightest idea where the box went.

"That was 'im," a woman cackled, "Place's gone to hell, but I'd know that pretty fella in any ol' place."

"Shut your hole," a man hissed, somewhere to the northwest of Elizabeth.

She looked to Booker and he made two gestures, one after another. From their time in Columbia, she recognized them: go through the thugs or around?

What do you want to do, Elizabeth?

Suggestions from last chapter:

She took the bottle from him, and it was light, but dense, it was… Elizabeth pouted at it, lost in thought, and turned it over in her hands. Booker let out a tense breath as he sat, rubbing his neck.

“Getting old, Booker?” She teased, and they both chuckled together.

“I’m still south of forty.” He rolled his shoulders, leaning back as the city passed behind him.

“And still north of me.” Elizabeth smiled, running a hand over the bottle. This would be the first step in freeing Jack. She wanted to scold him for such a reckless decision, but…

What other sorts of decisions did he make?

“Listen, Booker, tha–”

“Elizabeth!” The bottle slipped from her hands, she fumbled as it spiraled away.

Booker was on his feet, his hand under the bottle, but too late. The shatter filled the bathysphere for a few terrible seconds, and then…

Booker hissed a swear, cradling his bloody hand and pushed himself back onto the bench. Elizabeth glanced out the porthole window at the coming dock.

“Almost there, let me see,” she insisted, pulling his good hand off his injured one. The blood had shards of glass mixed in, embedded in his hand in places, but there was also a swirling, glowing quality.

“It’s just an accident, Elizabeth. I’ve been stabbed worse than this.” She stared up at him, studying his face. No symptoms yet, but how would she know? Would it take seconds? Days? Never?

“Forget it, there’s another dose in Rapture. And we’ll find it.” He took his hand back, wiping the blood on the bathysphere seat with a dry smirk. “Where’s Jack?”

What do you want to do, Elizabeth?

Suggestions from last chapter:

The coming Big Daddy had all of Booker’s attention, he hadn’t even noticed the bathysphere arrive. That was his only tell. His hands were steady as he reloaded and he stayed in motion even as he sought out cover behind filing cabinets and surgical tables. Elizabeth fell right into their rhythm, crouching as she rushed to his side.

She was fortunate he hadn’t left much for debris, only the odd bullet hole or scorched mark on the wall. Once she was close to him, her fingers found the strap of his holster and he nearly found her with the butt of his gun. “Elizabeth?!”

“To the bathysphere, this way,” she whispered, not that it would do much good stalling a Big Daddy. ‘Lucky’ for them, it was a Bouncer and not a Rosie… There was no outrunning a rivet. Booker and Elizabeth matched each other’s pace down the hall, the rumbling closer now. “Hurry!”

“I’m sure as hell not stopping,” he shouted over the groan behind them and knocked over a filing cabinet behind them as they passed.

“There’s no point, Booker—” A drill cut off the rest of her sentence, whirring down to an enraged roar and falling paperwork. “What were you thinking, coming here?!”

“Not this!” She could only scoff at that. Now was not the time for his sarcasm, but of course… Elizabeth got into the bathysphere ahead of him as he fired two more shots at the Bouncer, backing up into the bathysphere and slamming his fist down on the door button.

Its red eyes fixed on them, or it felt like that way, unfazed by the blasts. A robotic woman’s voice droned overhead, “Security protocol 52-C: travel locked.”

“Booker!” The footsteps in the hall were resonating through the bathysphere now, its eyes tinting everything red as it lumbered closer.

“On it,” he answered, pushing his gun into her hands. He typed a code into the numbered panel on the wall and the security message stopped mid-sentence.

The Bouncer was almost there, felt close enough to touch, until they rocked out of the port and onto the rails. Its eyes faded to that sick yellow-green and the security message explained. “Security clearance approved. Travel permitted. Rise, Rapture, Rise!”

She dropped to the bench, resting the gun beside her and finally breathing. Booker stayed and stared out at the Bouncer. Silent. Elizabeth slid forward in the seat and broke that silence with a question she knew she deserved an answer to. “What happened?”

He still didn’t look at her, holstering his gun with unnecessary focus on that task instead. She narrowed her gaze and scowled at the back of his head. But she would wait until he found the nerve that let him do this in the first place.

“This,” he offered, taking the flask off his belt. The solution looked like a star made liquid, shifting colors and giving off its own light. “Lot 192, one dose.”

What do you want to do, Elizabeth?

Suggestions from last chapter:

Jack already had speckles of blood of the cuffs of his sleeves, standing over one of Sullivan’s dead men with the corpse’s gun in his hand. He stared at her, nodding towards the labs. “Go! Please, go.”

The outline of the crossbow nearly blended into the wall, but it almost neon for how difficult it was to tear her gaze from it to look down the halls outside the Kashmir…

Her dad, he could handle himself in a fight even if he couldn’t handle anything else on his own. But… Elizabeth looked back towards Jack, just as stuck as she was. And she closed her eyes, gunpowder and stale air filling her lungs as she breathed.

Booker, patch yourself up! I think there’s more of them.

She was part of his team now, whether either of them liked it or not. Elizabeth pointed to the crossbow she hid, shouting, “There, it’s a crossbow! Keep yourself hidden, stay safe.”

“No, you–”

She didn’t wait to hear the rest. Her heart beat in the effort and in concern– she ran through the notes she saw in Suchong’s files about Jack. Designed to fight, stronger than most people his physical age, and then there was the Vita Chamber.

It wouldn’t come to that. Her heels echoed with every step down the halls, screams resounding behind her. It couldn’t.

The bathysphere was empty. The door sealed shut as security bots whirred and beeped towards the restaurant. She rested a hand against the glass, Apollo Square waiting out ahead. “Be safe.”

Bathyspheres were not fast, calibrating for fish and other sea life. She stretched, she hummed, she recited chemical compositions, she sat with legs folded and unfolded and folded. At last, the door swooshed open and she pushed her way out the moment she could.

“Shit,” Booker hissed, gun raised as he retreated. A vial hung from his belt, a mixed liquid shining from within. The camera at the front lay shattered on the ground, sparking, but…

She felt it first. The lumbering boots resonated through the floor of the lab, a low groan following.

What do you want to do, Elizabeth?

Suggestions from last chapter:

Jack was steady, calm. His gaze never left hers as he waited and he even nodded to reassure her. With or without the mask, his face would betray nothing…

Where was Booker? What had Jack sent him to get?

Elizabeth refined an inscrutable expression in her work with Suchong. That was the difference between doctor and subject in the lab. But she felt her shoulders tense and eyes widen, if only somewhat, as she wrapped her arm around his. “Where did he go? If he’s in danger, I have to know.”

“I can’t lie to you.” Jack looked straight ahead, watching the crowd. Perhaps for someone or to avoid looking at her. “He is.”

She tightened her jaw and her grip on his arm. Slowly, gently, he rested his hand on hers and squeezed. The guitar practice formed calluses on his fingertips… Elizabeth opened her eyes without realizing she’d closed them for a few seconds too long.

Of course Booker went wherever Jack asked. How many hours had they spent together over the past few months?

“Take me to him,” she meant to command when it came out imploring.

“I will. You are the only one actually allowed there, after all.” He stopped between an empty table and the dance floor. “I suppose I would be too.”

A flash of a wince, and he looked away to lead her out of the restaurant.

“What? Where are we–”

“You know where,” he reminded her. Not one person moved to stop them, perhaps thinking they were young lovers overcome with alcohol.

A thought like that, now of all times?

Elizabeth scoffed at herself, keeping pace with Jack. The crowd and music faded behind them in the halls of the Welcome Center… Until the music mixed with screaming and gunfire, and he stopped.

“Fontaine.” His voice was somewhere near a breath and a hiss, and his calm air disappeared. Jack took in a sharp breath, looked to Elizabeth, away, and back again. “The labs. Go find him.”

And Jack ran back towards the Kashmir, stopping only to get a gun from one of Sullivan’s men… He was already dead, blood soaking a dark pool on his suit and the plush carpet.

The crossbow was just as she concealed it beside the restaurant entrance, waiting.

What do you want to do, Elizabeth?

Suggestions from last chapter:

Diane offered her hand to Elizabeth, smiling even as her eyes hung heavy. There was nothing to fear from Diane and Elizabeth knew how she’d feel about Ryan… and she smiled, taking the lone woman’s hand.

“Good evening, Diane,” she answered. “I’m Anna DeWitt.” With her free hand, Elizabeth pointed to the pair of men she spotted as perhaps being Jack and Booker. “And I have an idea for you... I know that man with the red tie is here alone too.”

Elizabeth led Diane by the hand and she followed, her eyes already brighter in curiosity. She weaved her way through the party crowd, realizing as she did that everyone here was drinking not to celebrate, but to relax. Or make an empty attempt at it.

One of Sullivan’s guards was posted in each of the corners for this room, their guns concealed only as ominous silhouettes. She wasn’t the only one who saw it. “Hello, gentlemen,” she chimed. “Could you spare a dance for two ladies this evening?”

“Well, I’ll be,” the man with the red tie said in a smooth southern accent, turning to look Diane over and grin. “If it ain’t the fine Miss McClintock! I would be honored to have you on my arm tonight, ma’am,” he offered and put his hand out for her.

The man in the white suit angled his head down, but he glanced at Elizabeth through his mask… Yet she knew. There was Jack.

Alone?

“Mr. Sinclair?” Diane slipped her fingers out of Elizabeth’s, a smile slipping into her voice. “My God, I had no idea you here! I…” She gulped, looking to Elizabeth and she gave her a small nod. Diane laughed and put her arm around his. “I’d like that.”

Elizabeth watched them blend back into the crowd, waiting for them to get out of earshot. Once that was done, Elizabeth looked back at him and sighed.

“You look nice,” Jack admitted, meeting her gaze at last. “I thought you weren’t coming to the party.”

“I’m here for you and Booker.” Elizabeth watched the bubbles rising in the champagne in her glass… And put it on the table, sliding it away. One alcoholic DeWitt was enough. “Why are you here?”

“For you,” he responded, smiling. “Booker said you’d come looking, that you wouldn’t quit, and I should be here.”

He held his arm out and kept his gaze on hers. “He’s so proud of you, you know. So whatever happens, please don’t be upset with Booker. He went there for me. I asked.”

What do you want to do, Elizabeth?

Suggestions from last chapter:

Scanning the room, Elizabeth looked for a red sash or necktie on any of themen… Booker loved that red sash around his neck, and she was counting on that. Drumming her fingers of her free hand on the champagne glass, Elizabeth answered the woman.

“Oh, I never had a date,” she chuckled and hoped that would comfort the blonde. After all, alcohol certainly wouldn’t. “Who could stand up such a charming woman as yourself?”

She counted five men so far with red neckties. Two were dancing with women and Elizabeth had never seen Booker so much as flirt with a woman since… Well, likely just before she was born. They weren’t him.

“Andrew Ryan,” the woman said, wistful and tender all at once, and picked up another glass. “Supposedly the man who loves me.”

“I’m sorry,” she caught herself and smiled. “I’m Diane. Diane McClintock.”

Only one of the men she counted stood with a shorter, leaner man at his side, both in suits… One black, one white. But she would have to get closer to see. And yet in front of her stood a valuable contact in Rapture who seriously needed a good friend. Someone she could n trust. Perhaps tell her secrets to.

Diane offered her hand and a sad smile.

What do you want to do, Elizabeth?

Suggestions from last chapter:

The New Year’s party.

Elizabeth smiled, reaching for the bird necklace under her collar. Jack had never seen anything like a party. With all the time he spent with Booker, it’d be a simple undertaking to convince Booker to take him there. But at least it was just a party, where the greatest threat was a bad appetizer and small talk.

Or in this case, political tension… But she didn’t want to dwell on that.

Still, she fought the urge to toy with the stub of her pinky. That was easy with Suchong around since he liked to ask what caused it, but here…? Elizabeth kept her eyes ahead and strode through the mostly empty halls towards the Welcome Center to the Kashmir restaurant.

At the front, a guard waited but there was no one else for security in sight. Safety ruined the atmosphere of Ryan’s strength, she guessed.

“Ma’am,” the guard said, adjusting his stance and offering yet another mask. “For the party.”

She wrapped her fingers around the edge of the cat mask, nodding. “Thank you.” This was going to complicate it for her, although it explained why it was easy for Booker and Jack. With masks and suits, they’d look like everyone else.

She tied the mask’s strings behind her head and slipped into the crowd. Smooth jazz played on the speakers and streamers hung loosely from support beams overhead. But no Booker or Jack immediately apparent, and she couldn’t very well shout their names.

She stopped by a table of little snacks and drinks, picking up a glass. Elizabeth had to blend in even if she had no intention of drinking tonight.

“Hello,” a hollow voice greeted her, and Elizabeth turned to see a blonde woman in a butterfly mask.

“Did your date stand you up too?” She laughed drily, swishing her wine and downing the glass.

What do you want to do, Elizabeth?

Suggestions from last chapter:

Tenenbaum scoffed when Elizabeth answered honestly… She did hear plenty of death threats towards Booker in Columbia. Even Slate did it once in a while. “Why am I not surprised?”

“But I can do better than killing him,” Elizabeth teased, approaching with a swish of her skirt. “I’ve traveled with Booker for a long time and well,” she hesitated and laughed nervously. “I am his daughter. I know him better than anyone.”

All these families losing their little girls to Ryan, and here she was… Planning a search for her missing father. And of course he didn’t go off alone this time.

Nodding, Tenenbaum placed her pistol on her faded, slightly warped desk. Little burn marks spotted it from ashes she forgot to tap into the tray… Or Elizabeth hoped that was the case. “Unfortunately for you, this is true. What is your idea?”

“We can be sure Booker is behind this escapade. I’m best suited to find him and Jack, so you’ll stay here to keep an eye on the girls,” Elizabeth outlined the plan and Tenenbaum dropped into the chair at her desk.

“Good luck.” That was oddly easy for convincing Tenenbaum… And as close to agreement as Elizabeth was going to get. They had a head start on her, after all.

“And you be safe,” Elizabeth answered. She trotted to the door, the little girls talking to each other about her departure. The words passed by her as she picked up the crossbow right from where she left it after her last search.

She hadn’t touched a weapon in months, but… Elizabeth pushed the labs from her mind and took firm strides out of the Sanctuary.

Following the winding tunnels out, she found herself near Artemis Suites in Apollo Square. She took a moment to brush the tunnel’s dirt off her shoes. It wouldn’t be any good to be seen with obvious evidence of trespassing on her person.

As for Apollo Square, it had seen better times even for Rapture’s young history. Her steps resonated down the broad hall with no one else in sight or earshot. Elizabeth tsked and repositioned the bow. Between Ryan’s regular arrears and searches, this place was emptier than ever.

Then the dark teal and gold sign posted beside a nearby doorway reminded her of the day. Rather, of the holiday. “New Year’s Eve,” she muttered. “Would they be so foolish?”

She sighed, conflicted. If she was Booker with Jack at his side, where would she go?

What do you want to do, Elizabeth?

Suggestions from last chapter:

It was too late… Elizabeth ran her fingers over the stub of her little finger, sighing. “It’s not scared, exactly. We…” Elizabeth leaned against the wall behind her, feeling distinctly like Booker as she did it. There were worse habits of his to pick up.

“We have work to do, I know, it’s just–”

Tenenbaum tapped ash from the tip of her cigarette, continuing Elizabeth’s thought. “The work will be there.”

The embarrassed smile came to Elizabeth’s face instinctively, and it was a sort of relief. At the labs, the sterility and risk were stifling. Betraying her emotions would make them lose everything. All of their sacrifices would be for nothing.

Elizabeth steadied herself with a series of long breaths… And Tenenbaum’s hand rested on her shoulder.

“I have worked there,” she reminded Elizabeth, her eyes focusing on the wall behind them. Did… Did Elizabeth look like that these days…? “What you see and do, I will understand. And you need to know that you do this for far nobler reasons than Suchong or I ever did.”

“It doesn’t feel noble,” Elizabeth admitted in a whisper. “It’s not just the girls. The plasmid testing,” she hesitated, remembering the assistant who died in the last failed test, shuddering.

“The failed pair bonds and the Big Daddy project, it’s all…” She rubbed her forehead, trying to counter the dull headache that came whenever she thought about these experiments outside of the lab. “There’s the little girls, the people who just didn’t agree with Ryan, and we can’t save any of them.”

“Not yet,” Tenenbaum corrected, pulling Elizabeth closer. Their gazes met and in Tenenbaum’s eyes, she saw a softness… And a certainty. “But by what you do, however monstrous, your actions will ultimately save these girls.”

Smiling again, Elizabeth looked towards the beds as she thought of another person who would be rescued. “Wait… Where are Jack and Booker?”

Tenenbaum whipped around, the maternal tenderness dissolving almost instantly. The guitars were each on their own beds, but both Jack and Booker were nowhere to be seen.

“Scheisse!” She flicked the cigarette to the ground, crushing it under her dirty brown heels. Tenenbaum was usually insistent on cleanliness, a good habit for the girls, she said.

She stormed to her office area past the reinforced glass, and Elizabeth approached to see her grabbing a pistol. “I will kill that man, I swear,” she spat and paused. “He is your father, I know–”

“No, no,” Elizabeth waved her apology off. “I hear that a lot…” Her eyes wandered to the other weapons in Tenenbaum’s office and slowly, all her muscles tensed.

What do you want to do, Elizabeth?

Suggestions from last chapter:

The scientist in her spoke of reason. Booker and Elizabeth were here and they had work to do. And yet, there was Jack. Shaking in her arms, crying, baring his heart without a word to the only mother he would ever know.

In the far reaches of her vision, Elizabeth put her hand on Booker’s shoulder to stop him from coming closer. With a nod, Elizabeth had bought them both time for this moment.

Because of Suchong’s work, Jack was exceptionally fit with the musculature of someone in their twenties… It wasn’t easy, but Tenenbaum pulled him closer into the hug, basking in this peace between them.

As his breathing steadied, he stepped back and wiped his tears off on the back of his hand. “I…” He rasped, clearing his throat to continue. “I’m sorry, I don’t know…”

He caught sight of Booker and Elizabeth, he straightened and forced a smile. “Oh, uh. Hello. I’m glad you’re safe,” he recovered, relaxing a little.

“You too,” Booker answered, eyes locked on Tenenbaum. She only chuckled. Would Booker ever learn that every woman in the world had dealt with a strong, angry man. It was really dismissed. Taking out a cigarette, Tenenbaum lit it and looked past him to Elizabeth.

“And what did you find?”

Elizabeth glanced to Booker, who kept his distance. “Cohen is definitely involved in smuggling, and it seems he’s taking Fontaine’s place for Ryan.”

Jack looked away, adjusting the neck of his sweater. As Elizabeth continued, he wandered to lean against the wall beside Booker.

“But his mental state is falling apart, fast.” She twisted her fingers around the metal stub of her pinky, her ponytail swaying with her gestures as she explained. “Whatever information he has, he’s not sane enough to relay it. It’s not worth the risk.”

Tenenbaum exhaled a cloud of smoke. “Then we need our next steps. Fontaine has already made his.”

“What? He has?” Jack licked his lips, coming back from a slightly calmer Booker. At least someone could calm that beast. “How, what–”

“Easy, Jack,” she said. “There are posters. Rallies. A man, Atlas, is speaking against Ryan and gaining followers.”

“Oh,” Jack answered.

“And Ryan has started gathering the followers of Fontaine’s who can’t offer him anything, locking them away.” She took another drag from her cigarette and for a moment, Jack was present in body only. When he looked at her again… That was a gaze that held hers.

“Suchong?”

Tapping the cigarette into a tray, she could think of no means to make this news lighter. “He works for Ryan. He will take more girls, and he will keep one dose of Lot 192 with him in the lab.”

“The city is rapidly deteriorating,” Elizabeth interrupted, heels clacking against stone as she moved between the two of them. “We need to act. I’ll apply to work with Suchong as an assistant.”

“No!” Jack flinched at his own volume, covering his mouth for a second to collect himself. “It’s not safe.”

“Nein, she will be perfectly safe,” Tenenbaum thought aloud. “Too old for being a Little Sister, sweet and so invisible to him because of it… And she is intelligent.”

“She’s ready to fight too,” Booker finally pitched in. He rubbed the back of his head as he continued. “Trust me, she can swing a wrench. So what do I do?”

Elizabeth sighed, weighing her words. “I need you to lay low here.”

Booker scoffed, then it sunk in that she meant it. “What, I just sit here while you put yourself in danger?”

Walking to him, her hand going to his shoulder instantly, Elizabeth took on a softer tone. “Tenenbaum said it was safe, and you said I can protect myself.” That moment, she whispered and Tenenbaum couldn’t make out the next words.

“And… And me?” Jack knew the answer when he asked. He wouldn’t look up and instead watched the girls playing.

“Who will keep Booker from going mad?” Tenenbaum offered and in a few seconds, Jack looked at them… And laughed.

“Yeah, you go ahead and laugh,” Booker snarked, coming to join them too and Tenenbaum could swear she saw the beginning of a smile.

“You could teach him guitar!” Elizabeth nudged Booker, and for a moment… It was a family.

Time Skip

December 31, 1958

Elizabeth returned to the Sanctuary, hanging her lab coat on a hook. There was an odd feeling, her coming home to a place where Booker… Her father… Waited for her because she was coming back. Always did.

She wore flats now, cut her hair to her jawline in a layered bob – very popular in Rapture so it was easy to blend in. And when she came up those stairs, the little girls were playing games without once mentioning angels. Tenenbaum watched them, smiling and smoking.

Better, Jack sat beside Booker, both with guitars. The music reached her first. Jack learned quickly and took a liking to the gentle folksy music Booker was so fond of.

“It’s a chance for them both,” Tenenbaum interrupted her thoughts and Elizabeth jumped. “Has your work with Suchong made you that scared?”

We are changing perspective:

What do you want to do, Elizabeth?

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Jack waited, searching her eyes. A weight rested, rather buried deeper into her heart. Jack had a mother. And she sold him to escape his father. Whatever little Tenenbaum could do to be a mother to him, she would… Difficult as it was.

She put her hand on his shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze, but Jack did not react. “You will have…” And she hesitated, looking beyond him to the little ones making chalk drawings on the stone floor.

“Tenenbaum…?” He licked his lips, his breath picking up. Nervous or scared, maybe both. He’d always been so free with the emotions he was allowed to express, it was truly incredible. Such strength of heart in the face of such ugliness.

“You have the right to choose. And when the time comes, it will be up to you what you do.” She took her hand away, sliding both into her pants pockets. “You are a man now, Jack. You can do as you wish and you do not need a promise from me to make your own choice.”

Only his unsteady breath filled the next beats of silence. She exhaled sharply when his arms locked around her, and then she felt it. The sobs shaking his core and shoulders.

Instinctively, she smoothed his hair and before she could speak, she saw Booker and Elizabeth in the doorway at the top of the stairs.

What do you want to do, Tenenbaum?

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His apology hung in the air, but he met her eyes with more steadiness than she felt. How quickly being a mother figure had changed her already, so vulnerable to alcohol’s effects… Relatively little to how much she used to drink.

Taking a stabilizing breath, Tenenbaum adjusted her position in her seat.

“Jack,” she began, “To sneak out of this place, leaving the girls unprotected…” She forced herself to stand, crossing her arms. “You know they are not as far along as you are. They needed you.”

“You’re right, Tenenbaum, but…” He narrowed his eyes at her, tilting his head.

“Nein. There is no but.” Tenenbaum approached and stopped a few steps away from Jack, who waited where he stood. “You will be able to do as you please when Fontaine is truly dead and you are freed completely.”

“I know, but,” he hesitated, his resolve turning to an imploring look. Not unlike the admiration of these little ones, and it awoke her maternal instincts just the same. “Tenenbaum, I’ve never had a say in what happened. I swear I won’t do this again, but when I can make a difference…”

Watching his shoulders tighten, she assumed he was clenching his fists and yet still his expression was so sincere, so desperate for validation.

“Promise you’ll give me that chance.”

What do you want to do, Tenenbaum?

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Elizabeth rested her hand on Jack’s shoulder, but all she could think of was getting him home. “You’re right, Jack. No one can own you, and we’ll keep it that way.”

Booker stepped up to join them. “Well, that’s the point, Elizabeth,” he teased.

“So you’ll do anything to make it work? Oh, that’s perfect!” Taking her hand off Jack’s shoulder, Elizabeth turned to smirk at Booker. She hadn’t even explained her plan and he already had a grimace creeping onto his face. “You know Cohen will fixate on us if we dance to the music.”

“Dammit, Elizabeth,” Booker groaned.

Jack chuckled, hiding the lower half of his face behind his hand and his eyes lit up behind the bunny mask.

“Well, it will work,” she answered, smiling and moving towards the storage room door leading back to the main area of Cohen’s apartment. Grumbling, Booker followed her out.

Jack waited to give them the head start, and Cohen greeted them with a broad, sweeping wave and bow when they returned. “Sweet Songbird, you return! Have you changed your mind from the guitar?”

“Oh yes, it’s all this glorious music!” She exclaimed, taking Booker’s hand and leading him past the piano deeper into the apartment… Leading Cohen and Fitzpatrick to turn away from the exit. “You’ve inspired my muse to dance, we simply must! You do understand, don’t you?”

He erupted into cascading laughter, tapping Fitzpatrick on the shoulder. His words washed over her as they danced, Booker almost relaxing as he guided her through the steps.

In the front of the apartment, she saw Jack’s white ears vanish into the hallway as the door whispered shut behind him.

Tenenbaum struggled to buy clothes for Jack out in Rapture, since she could not take him along. This button down shirt, those slacks, a sweater, something to sleep in, so many aspects to consider… He would grow like a weed anyway.

But imagine her surprise when she got back to the Sanctuary, and the little ones reported that Jack had gone after the grumpy man and pretty lady.

They went off to play and Tenenbaum settled into a chair where she could see Jack the moment he returned. A bottle of Red Ribbon brandy kept her company in her watch.

A little one let him in. Her footsteps echoed and his arrival was barely audible in her reminders to hurry. Jack was at the top of the stairs, fingers deftly undoing his vest buttons when he finally saw her there and froze.

“Oh, uh. Tenenbaum, I…” He bit his lip for only a moment before he gathered himself to stand firmly before her. “I’m sorry.”

What do you want to do, Tenenbaum?

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