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To Belong	By : BringtheHawt Category: +A through F > Bioshock Views: 20677 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the bioshock franchise or any of its characters. I am not attempting to make any money off of writing/sharing this.

Chapter List
- 3
- 4
- 5
Author's Note: Sooo ... chapter starts off with two sex scenes, and finishes with a lot of plot-moving scenes. I wasn't sure if I wanted to keep the scene with the Bianchi prostitutes but decided yes since Lillian will be seen again in future chapters and deserves an introduction. That said, in the future, count on sex scenes to predominantly featuring Booker/Eliz unless viewers ask to see other characters.
Original Character Profile List for anyone confused or curious(this will be updated with each chapter): tobelongfic . livejournal . com
Take out the spaces.
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Just tell her ... Booker urged himself, when he felt a warm, moist touch press into his erection. The same erection he had every night he slept next to Elizabeth.
Tell her you made a mistake and went to the casino last night ...
DeWitt groaned when he felt a tongue lap playfully at his testicles before sliding along the bottom of his shaft.
Tell her you can't even afford tomorrow's payment ...
"Elizabeth, I - " The ex-soldier started to speak, but the feel of his eager companion's wet mouth closing upon the bulbous tip of his cock silenced him. Booker bit his tongue and lifted the bedsheet so he could peer at Elizabeth's gorgeous mouth wrapping around his sweaty dickmeat. The image of her nearly made his heart stop: his beautiful Elizabeth in a slinky, lace nightgown sucking on his prick.
The brunette pulled off of him long enough to flash a sweet, flirty smile before returning to the task. DeWitt found himself sighing softly as she swirled her tongue across the tip of him.
Really. This wasn't the sort of thing every lady was willing to do, in this era. And Booker was very, very glad she wasn't one of those ladies.
Those pretty lips squeezed his dick. She slowly, teasingly began to slide more and more of DeWitt's long rod into her mouth.
"Elizabeth," Booker called out, leaning upward. She paused to look at him before forming a tantalizing suction and slowly, inch-by-inch, removing her tight mouth from his prick.
"Yes?" She asked, taking a sexy lick of that salty dick.
" ... Your mouth is incredible," DeWitt revealed sincerely, "... but I want your body. Now."
Elizabeth smirked, moving to straddle Booker's thighs. The pretty girl removed her nightgown, revealing that pale, beautiful body. She pressed the mound between her thighs teasingly against the ex-soldier's straining shaft.
"I've been waiting all night for you to return home, Booker," she whispered, running a soft hand across the plane of muscle on his chest, "made myself a little moist just thinking about you."
The touch of her skin and those lustful blue eyes made DeWitt's cock pulse.
"Now ... " He repeated insistently. With a teasing smile, she gripped onto his prick and lifted her hips. Within a few pokes, his dick found her eager womanhood and slipped past her snug entrance.
The dark-haired female was quite moist, as promised.
"Oo," Elizabeth moaned at the intrusion. She stopped when she had about three inches of prick inside her.
The ex-Pinkerton grit his teeth and grabbed at her hips, managing to stave off an embarrassingly quick orgasm. It wasn't fair, after all ... Elizabeth's sensual licks were ridiculously arousing.
"It ... it feels bigger," she huffed. Last time she was wet like this Booker slid into her so easily ... now she felt ridiculously stuffed despite her preexisting arousal.
"It's the position," DeWitt explained, reaching upward to grab at her breasts. He squeezed and rubbed them gently as she lowered herself onto his throbbing erection.
Elizabeth's pussy was straining around that cockmeat. Still, she continued her steady descent. The struggling girl groaned when Booker's prick was full embedded in her quivering quim.
"Try to relax, Elizabeth ... " DeWitt instructed sympathetically, massaging her nipples with his thumbs.
She attempted to roll her hips and begin thrusting but found herself awkwardly pausing every few seconds. Eventually, the pale beauty conjured enough willpower to begin easing her tight snatch up and down that pole.
How the hell did I get this girl ...
Booker watched the gorgeous woman. The way she her breasts bobbed within his grasp as she began to develop a smoother rhythm, the sighs escaping her lips, the way her eyes snapped shut as she concentrated on the feel of DeWitt's penetrating flesh.
"It's thick," she gasped out, "it feels ... good. I - Ooh ... "
Elizabeth's hands were resting on her father's strong chest, providing support for her erotic efforts.
The ex-soldier continued to work on those pink, hardened nipples. Tugging gently at the nubs, squeezing and rolling them between her fingers as she continued to ride him.
The temperature rose. Elizabeth was sweating already. Her attentions kept shifting back and forth from the sizzling shocks of pleasure Booker brought to her breasts and the rush developing within her pussy.
The sexy woman's eyes partially opened. She found Booker staring at her with a need she knew was equal to her own.
"You're filling me," she murmured breathlessly, continuing to bounce on that prick, "you're stretching me ..."
Those words flipped a switch within DeWitt. The powerful man reached upward, wrapping his arms around the woman's back and tugged her down against his body.
There was an intimate pause. Their bodies pressed against each other ... their chests, their thighs, their sensual union ...
Then Booker began to thrust up into her. In this new position Elizabeth was locked against his body, only able to wiggle and squirm as he speared her. She focused on squeezing his rapidly shifting cockflesh with her pussy. The female marveled at the pleasure coursing through her body and began groaning wildly. The way his body slapped into her womanhood produced wild, erotic pulses. That sort of pulsing that occurred when orgasm was approaching ...
"Please! Booker!" She cried out desperately.
DeWitt, himself, was grunting harshly. That dick was fully swollen, throbbing. He rolled his hips stuffing himself as deeply as possible within the gorgeous girl.
"Elizabeth," the man growled throatily.
The beauty was at her limit. Elizabeth's body quivered as that delicious, crippling climax claimed her.
The loud, pleasured moan that filled Booker's ears was enough to make his cock burst mere moments later. He barely managed to pull out of her spasming pussy before he came.
Elizabeth collapsed on top of DeWitt's muscular body. They clutched each other, panting.
When the stunned woman finally caught her breath, she whispered: "I ... really ... like that position."
Booker chuckled softly before kissing her sweaty shoulder.
During their intimate embrace, DeWitt's eyes glanced at the odd puncture wound on Elizabeth's back. It looked as fresh as their first night together.
"Is that ... healing, Elizabeth?"
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It was a fancy hotel room. It possessed a massive bed, hand-crafted furniture, rich decor.
Though Noah Reed, nor the two Bianchi prostitutes that just witnessed the Negotiator murder a man, really cared about the decor.
Noah, still dressed, sat in a large ornate chair in the corner of the room. The bruised blonde was naked, sitting in his lap. She wrapped her arms around his neck, leaning to place a sensual kiss on his lips before a grip on her pretty hair prevented the union of their mouths.
Reed examined her for a moment, holding her head still. Even with a split lip and a swelling nose, she was still rather attractive.
"You're beautiful," Noah commented, his lips curled into a faint smile, "but I do not kiss whores."
Anger flashed in her brown eyes. Reed's hand released her hair.
"I ... don't want to be one, anymore ... " She insisted, quietly but firmly.
Noah observed her with that eternal smirk of his. He found himself cupping her cheek with his hand, running a thumb across her intact bottom lip.
"What is your name, my dear?"
" ... Lillian."
"I'd prefer you to shun your ignoble profession after I've enjoyed you, Lillian."
Her mouth curled into a pout.
"Go lie on the bed," Reed instructed.
Lillian did as she was told, moving to the bed where the second whore, Maria, was waiting. They made an interesting combination: Maria was thin and pretty, dark-haired, still in her teenage years ... Lillian was several years older and quite a beauty: possessing an incredible bust and a shapely rump. The blonde laid down on her back, as per Reed's instructions, parting her legs to provide Noah a lewd view of her body he very much enjoyed.
Maria gently leaned over the stunning blonde, kissing the woman's lips gently. Lillian found herself appreciative that someone in the room was actually willing to kiss her. She wrapped her arms around that younger girl's petite body. They deepened the kiss, tongues slipping into each other's mouths. Lilian ran her hands across the length of Maria's backside sensually.
"Little one," Noah called.
Maria, pulling from Lilian's mouth, glanced over her shoulder toward their client.
"Prepare her for me," Reed commanded with his trademark smirk.
Lillian's breath hitched at the erotic implications of Reed's command. She glanced at the blonde man, wondering what his body looked like without all those clothes he had on.
Maria, after a brief pause to consider his meaning, leaned upward and redirected her attention to Lillian's pussy. Her soft fingers caressed the woman's clit, causing Lillian to shudder. After a moment of this gentle touching, she moved to slide a finger into the blonde's already slick vagina. Maria wiggled her digit within the other woman for a minute.
"Sweetheart," Noah interrupted with an amused expression.
Maria turned toward him.
"If a friend of yours asked for a physical description of me, what words would you use ... ?"
" ... handsome," the young one stated, finding the question slightly odd.
"Why thank you. Anything more?"
" ... strong," she responded.
"True. What else?"
" ... big."
"Indeed," Noah stated with a smile, "I'd like to add proportional to our list."
She blinked at him silently.
Noah released a mirthful sigh, pointing a finger toward Lillian's cunt before lifting that very finger upward for the dark-haired whore to observe.
"You truly believe a single svelte finger is going to prepare her for me?" As Noah asked the question, he made a point of raising an additional three fingers.
"Oh," Maria responded shyly. The young whore spared a nervous glance at Lillian before slowly sliding three more fingers into that moist pussy. Lillian groaned as those four fingers twisted within her passage. After a moment, the dark-haired girl began to slide her fingers in and out of Lillian's sticky tunnel.
"It feels good, Maria," Lillian whispered, arching her hips slightly. The words encouraged the dark-haired whore, who started repetitively jabbing her fingers into that cooperative pussy.
Noah watched for a few minutes, smiling. Lillian was still enthusiastic about putting on a good show for her savior, despite his insulting refusal to kiss her earlier. The blonde whore groaned, dripping pussy juices as Maria continued to work her.
The Negotiator stood, causing both women to pause. Lillian watched the tall man step toward Maria and lean down to whisper something in the young female's ear. Whatever he said forced a wide-eyed look from the petite female.
Noah patted the younger prostitute on the head before venturing toward the head of the bed to look down at Lillian.
As she met his cool gaze, Lillian felt Maria apply increased pressure on her cunt. She groaned loudly, attempting to spread her legs as widely as possible to facilitate the insertion of Maria's entire hand. Lillian squirmed, arched and silently thanked the heavens that Maria was inherently small. Her pussy pulsed and protested when the largest diameter of that hand slid inside her body. She moaned twice when she felt Maria's appendage slowly twist within her. The intense stretching felt ... incredible. The throb of her womanhood became overwhelming. She was gasping and starting to sweat ...
Distantly, Lillian was aware she was still being watched. Breathing softly, her half-lidden eyes shifted toward her attractive client. The frustrated blonde caught his steel-colored eyes and she spied a flicker of lust in them.
"Did I offend you earlier?" Reed questioned, still smiling, but with a certain roughness in his voice as his hands moved to casually unbutton his vest, "allow me to make amends."
Lillian managed an exasperated yet sexy grin at the man, before Maria's hand began moving deeper within her.
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It was friday morning. In less than fourteen hours, Ernest would be outside the apartment ... waiting for money Booker didn't have.
DeWitt felt sick. He wondered if the previous night was the last time he'd ever hold and pleasure Elizabeth. Would Noah Reed show up in the middle of the night with violent intentions? Would he wait until the next morning? Would torture or threats be used to encourage Booker to find money immediately? Or would Noah simply kill him for the missed payment?
Would they ... go after Anna or Elizabeth?
Booker knew he'd sooner kill Noah than surrender quietly, but even if he succeeded ... New York City had a vast supply of thugs and murderers willing to go after nobodies for large sums of money.
Can't kill everyone ...
DeWitt found Elizabeth playing with Anna in the nursery.
"Elizabeth ... I may be out late tonight. I got a lot of work to do today. Will you ... be all right with her?"
The dark-haired woman glanced at him with a warm expression, "absolutely." Surgoy had took his two boys out of town to visit relatives, so Elizabeth's services weren't needed at his estate for the next week.
The ex-Pinkerton forced a smile and leaned down to press a gentle, lingering kiss on her lips. Then he shifted his attention to little Anna. She smiled and giggled when Booker lifted her so he could plant repeated kisses on her cheeks and face.
"Be good for dada," DeWitt whispered, cradling her.
"Dada ... " Anna squealed.
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Hours later, DeWitt found himself at an exceptionally seedy bar. He asked around for underhanded work, making it clear he'd didn't care if the job was dirty.
Soon, her found his opportunity.
"So you need money quick, eh?" The old man, Mr. Emerson, inquired humorlessly.
"Yah," The ex-Pinkerton responded.
"I'll make this short, then. My wife thinks I'm at the city of Buffalo on a business trip. She is currently engaging in acts of carnality with a pathetic little pissant. I want you to go permanently end their illicit affair."
" ... I'm not going to kill your wife."
"Nor would I want you to. She's the mother of my children, after all. Kill the man, teach my wife a lesson. I want her looking ugly for the next few weeks, if you understand my meaning. "
Booker sulked for a small moment. He thought of Anna and Elizabeth before asking: " ... How much are you paying?"
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Ernest Jacoby was at his post on the street outside of DeWitt's apartment at 11:30 pm, as was standard for collection night.
The night would have three major surprises for Ernest. The first was that, within minutes of Jacoby's arrival, a ford vehicle ominously arrived onto the street. It parked at the corner before the headlights went out.
Ernest stroked his extravagant mustache, surprised.
Is it ... the Immigrant Mafia? Are they truly coming after Booker over the incident at Surgoy's estate ... ?
Ten minutes passed. Ernest's anxiety and frustration built as each moment went by. He was actively glaring at the vehicle, unable to see the occupants of the car but knowing fully well they could see him underneath the lamp-post.
Would they really dare insult Noah and the Galucci family by going after our target?
Jacoby, perhaps due to the weeks of increasing frustration he felt over the entire DeWitt situation, boldly approached the car ... though he was very careful not to make any sudden movements with his hands and kept them within sight at all times.
When he reached the vehicle, he tapped on the mysterious car's driver-side car window. The window was rolled downward, revealing four thugs of different shapes and sizes. The one in the driver's seat was short and clean-shaven.
"Lovely evening, isn't it, sir?" The man asked with an accent Ernest couldn't easily identify. Jacoby's lips curled into a bitter frown.
"Immigrant immitation-mafiosos," the debt-collector snarled.
"I do not appreciate your tone, sir," the man responded seriously.
"Booker DeWitt is under the protection of Noah Reed and the Galucci family," Ernest growled.
"I see," the driver responded after staring at Jacoby for a quiet moment.
A meaty redhaired man in the backseat snickered: "Well, you're quite-"
"Shut up, Danny," the driver interrupted instantly before turning his attentions back toward Jacoby, "so, Noah Reed's protection, eh? I don't suppose he could stop us if we were to walk into DeWitt's apartment right now and shoot him."
"Obviously, Mr. Reed isn't here, and I certainly cannot stop you gentlemen if that's what you all decide to do," Ernest barked, "But allow me to warn you ... if you interfere with Mr. Reed's business, you best pray to the heavenly father for your death to be a quick one."
"Yes, yes, I'm aware of the Negotiator's reputation ... " the driver responded with a sly smile, "I've been meaning to have a chat with the man, but he can be rather hard to find. Any idea how we can get in contact with him?"
"Who are you?" Jacoby inquired.
"Michal Nogowski," the driver revealed, reaching into his suitjacket and pulling out a business card.
"I'll inform Mr. Reed of your interest," Jacoby sneered, snatching the card, "and would like to suggest that you gentlemen leave promptly."
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Anna's cries woke Elizabeth.
The concerned female approached the nursery's door, listening to the infant's hysterical shrieks. A strong sense of foreboding gripped her. She grabbed the door's handle, stepped inside ...
Hesitantly, Elizabeth stepped toward the crib.
There was the tell-tale sign of parallels inappropriately mixing: Anna was bleeding from her nose. But the infant's cries were increasing in loudness and desperation and soon, blood was dribbling from the infant's mouth and pooling in the corner's of her closed eyes.
The sight filled Elizabeth with a crippling sense of guilt and dread. Anna's suffering was her fault.
"A-Anna, I'm sorry ... " Elizabeth called out before bursting into a sob. She reached toward the infant ...
The door behind her slammed open. The petite female turned to see Booker step into the room.
"What are you doing?" Booker growled as he stepped toward her, "get away from her!"
"I'm ... I'm sorry, I didn't know this would happen ... "
Booker looked into the crib to witness his daughter's shrieks and blood. Rage and panic filled his eyes. He turned, grabbing Elizabeth's slender shoulders and shaking her roughly.
"What did you do to her?!
"Booker," Elizabeth cried out, horrified.
He screamed: "What the hell did you do to my daughter?!"
The nightmare forced Elizabeth to wake, startled. Without wasting a second, she leapt from Booker's bed and ran through the apartment to check on Anna within the nursery.
The infant was sleeping soundly. No blood.
What if it's a premonition ... ? What if it happens? What if ... over time my presence here hurts Anna? What if I can't stay with Booker ...
Elizabeth attempted to calm herself. She thought of the Luctece siblings.
No, no ... it was just a nightmare. If they can exist together in the same parallel ... then my presence here shouldn't hurt Anna ...
The disconcerted female only wished she could know for sure.
Quietly, Elizabeth closed the nursery door and glanced at the clock. Booker hadn't been home yet when she attempted to retire for the night around ten o'clock. Now it was a few minutes past midnight and there still was no sign of him.
It's collection night ... The troubled beauty realized. She stepped to the apartment window and could see the debt-collector DeWitt had identified as Ernest standing beneath a street-light at the corner.
Booker hasn't made the payment yet ... ?
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Ernest Jacoby was feeling pretty miserable at this point, standing underneath that street-lamp impatiently. The appearance of the Immigrant Mafia put him in an awful mood, even though they displayed remarkable cooperation when Jacoby insisted they leave.
Now Booker was ... late.
Ernest Jacoby was checking his watch every four minutes. Normally, receiving payments from DeWitt was a relatively smooth process. The ex-Pinkerton would typically show up with an envelope of money at least fifteen minutes before midnight. But, tonight ...
Where are you, Mr. DeWitt? Ernest wondered silently, removing his pocketwatch from his suitjacket to check the time.
It was ten minutes past midnight.
He must not have the money ...
A woman's voice interrupted Jacoby's thoughts: "Booker will be here."
Ernest glanced upward to see a stunning, dark-haired woman approach him.
"He'll be here," the young female repeated firmly, moving into the light of the street-lamp. The middle-aged man's gaze lingered on her, thinking DeWitt was a lucky lover and Noah had excellent taste in women.
"He's late," Ernest responded, looking away from those gorgeous blue eyes, "Mr. Reed doesn't accept late payments. "
"Well, I don't see Mr. Reed here," Elizabeth noted quickly, "so I can't imagine he'd realize the payment is late unless you informed him."
Jacoby responded with silence, folding his arms about his chest. After a quiet moment, Elizabeth approached the street-lamp and leaned against it. They were side-by-side now, waiting for the ex-Pinkerton without words. Ernest refused to look at the pretty female and mused over Booker's ridiculously deplorable situation involving the attention of not one, but two mafias as well as the exceptionally violent Negotiator.
They remained silent for nearly a half hour before Elizabeth's confidence in Booker finally began to waver.
"What happens if he misses a payment?" She asked quietly.
"It's hard to say, miss. Depends on multiple factors," Ernest admitted after a sigh.
"Such as?"
"Whether the boss thinks a debtor will respond to ... some motivation, for example."
"You mean torture?" Elizabeth accused sharply.
"Yes, miss, I mean torture," Ernest responded in a bitter tone.
Another awkward silence.
"Is Mr. Reed despicable enough to go after the women and children of the men he seeks to ... 'motivate'?"
"You needn't worry," Ernest responded instantly, thinking of Noah's fascination with her ...
"That's not what I asked, sir," the determined female pointed out.
Jacoby distantly remembered Noah describing this mysterious woman as 'willful' ... The Negotiator was certainly right. Ernest finally turned to face the petite female, examining her expression. The debt-collector wasn't stupid enough to volunteer any more information on Noah Reed, but he certainly had information that could help the woman.
"Miss ... Mr. DeWitt was late home two eves ago. Would you care to know why?" Jacoby inquired grimly.
Elizabeth's expression darkened.
"He was at an underground casino, gambling away tonight's payment," Ernest informed her sadly.
The expected emotion was evident on the pretty girl's face: a pained look inspired by surprise and betrayal.
"I don't - "
"- It's truth, miss," the debt-collector interrupted, "honestly, it wouldn't surprise me if he were there right now."
Ernest's heart felt heavy as he watched tears form in those bitter blue eyes.
Poor girl ... it must be love, to look so wounded ...
"Listen," Jacoby entreated gently, "I know not what ties you to Mr. DeWitt. You're not the mother of his child nor his wife. If it is within your power than I implore you: walk away. Death is just beyond that man's shoulder ... about to make his claim."
Elizabeth's gaze fell downward, despairingly. Ernest could never guess the sort of ties she had to Booker and Anna ...
"Believe me, miss," the disheartened man murmured as he pulled out his pocketwatch to check the time: 12:47, "I was rooting for Mr. DeWitt. Truly, I was."
Ernest found himself lingering near the sad beauty for an additional minute, wishing he could do more to console her. Reed would probably put a bullet in his head if he had heard this conversation or realized Jacoby had waited an extra forty-eight minutes past collection time ...
"I'll pray for you, though I'm not sure if God has an ear for the words of men like me," Jacoby offered somberly before tipping his hat and turning away from her.
"Wait ... " Elizabeth called out.
Ernest partially turned to look at her.
" ... Tell Mr. Reed I have his next payment," the petite woman requested boldly.
A surprised look emerged on Jacoby's face, followed instantly by an expression of sympathy.
"Miss ... you shouldn't bargain with that man, nor entertain his arrant affections."
The woman's response was resolute: "Booker has given me no choice."
The distressed man looked away from her, conflicted. He warned: "My lady, Mr. Reed will respond to this summon ... "
"I'm well-aware, sir."
A pause as he mulled it over. Ernest couldn't help but think a decent human being would refuse to allow the beautiful young woman to commit this folly.
"He ... desires your name," Jacoby finally relented.
"If he wants it," the blue-eyed enigma stated smoothly, "he'll have to come claim it."
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Hollow. Broken.
DeWitt was walking home.
Booker couldn't even summon the emotional energy needed to entertain the desperate notion that Ernest would wait beyond midnight for payment. He was just short, anyway. The ex-Pinkerton spent all day indulging scummy jobs and sacrificing his morality simply to end up eleven dollars shy of a full payment.
He tried to focus on Elizabeth and Anna, but in truth, all he could think of was the innocent woman he had attacked earlier. The sound of her cries, her admission of love to the man DeWitt had shot right in front of her, the look of fear and despair on her face.
I did it for them ... I did it to hear Anna's laugh ... I did it so I can continue to hold Elizabeth at night ...I did it so I can hear Anna say 'I love you' someday ... I did it for Elizabeth's smile.
The mental dialogue was ongoing. He listed every aspect of the two females in his life he treasured, hoping it'd be enough to drive the guilt away. The ex-soldier ignored the fact that the job hadn't even earned him enough money for another two weeks ...
It should have been a pleasant surprise when Booker turned the corner onto his own street to see Elizabeth and Ernest together beneath the streetlamp, but DeWitt couldn't manage any happiness at the moment. Still, it was impressive the resourceful female had managed to keep the debt-collector around nearly an hour after collection time. It may have saved his life if he had the entire payment.
"Ernest ... " DeWitt called out, slowly approaching the pair.
The both turned to look at Booker. Ernest's expression was solemn. Elizabeth looked ... angry.
"Were you out gambling again?" Those pretty lips snarled furiously.
Booker's steps paused. He glanced at Ernest, who instantly looked away. If DeWitt wasn't feeling emotionally-crippled at the moment, he may have been angry at the man for sharing his dark secret with Elizabeth.
"You've took every penny I've made," the infuriated female snapped, stepping before the despondent ex-Pinkerton, " ... you touched me as though we were lovers last night, you ... All we've shared and you gambled away a payment we should have been able to afford."
DeWitt had no words.
"Well, is that where you were, Booker? A casino?" Elizabeth asked again, "answer me."
"No," the ex-soldier responded slowly, looking into her topaz eyes, "what I did was far worse."
The brunette female's cold look instantly softened by the utterly defeated look DeWitt wore on his face.
What did you do, Booker ... ? Elizabeth questioned silently.
"Get back inside," the ex-Pinkerton urged spiritlessly. Booker's command had renewed the dark-haired woman's fire; she folded her arms across her chest, refusing to obey him.
Very willful, Ernest mused. Thoroughly uncomfortable at this point, the debt-collector toyed with his mustache as he watched the two lovers stare at each other. He finally felt compelled to interrupt the tense moment.
"Mr. DeWitt ... Do you, have payment?" Jacoby asked gingerly.
Without looking at the debt-collector's face, Booker removed an envelope from his vest pocket and offered it to him.
When Ernest opened the envelope to count the money, DeWitt revealed his failure: "Don't bother; It's eleven dollars short."
"Booker!" Elizabeth gasped out dismally.
Jacoby's face twisted into a frustrated, sad look as he examined Booker. The dreary man's eyes were cast downward. Booker silently wished Elizabeth hadn't been able to witness this pathetic moment.
"Give me another half-hour. I can scrounge up the rest of the money ... " At this point, the ex-soldier would be willing to knock on all his neighbor's doors and beg for any dollars or change they'd be willing to give.
The softhearted debt-collector sighed pitifully before tugging his wallet from his suit. Booker and Elizabeth watched sorrowfully as Ernest pulled out eleven dollars to add to the ex-Pinkerton's payment.
" ... It should have been a happy day for me, Ernest, " DeWitt murmured "Anna called me dada, this morning. First time."
"Jesus Christ, Booker," Ernest growled with a glare, because eventually sadness and frustration evolves into anger, "were you thinking of her when you went to McFarlane's?"
"Obviously not," Elizabeth quipped bitterly.
Their words hurt like a punch to the ex-soldier's stomach. The truth was Anna and Elizabeth dominated his thoughts. They were the inspiration for the desperate action, after all ... but it'd probably be impossible to convince Elizabeth of this.
The irate female turned toward the irritated debt-collector: "we'll pay you back for your kindness, sir. Please deliver my message to Mr. Reed." After her announcement, the woman turned to walk away.
DeWitt quickly realized she was heading the opposite direction of his apartment.
"Hey ... where are you going?" The ex-soldier stepped after her, "listen! this city is dangerous at night ... "
"Do not follow me, Booker," the feisty female snapped, "you'll enjoy your bedsheets alone this evening."
The ex-Pinkerton absolutely couldn't hold it against her; It was a miracle she had stayed with him this long. The girl had been exceptionally supportive and loving without due cause ... eventually whatever strand of incredible luck that had binded her to the miserable man was doomed to snap.
I'm ... a monster. She deserves better ...
Yet the thought did nothing to ease the Ex-soldier's mind or heart. Several dark emotions gnawed on Booker's insides, ripping from him the sanity and comfort that Elizabeth's companionship had given him. The ex-Pinkerton seemed unable to control his own body. He took another step toward Elizabeth's fleeing form, and was about to break into a full-bodied run before Jacobi stopped him.
"-leave her be, Mr. DeWitt," Jacoby advised as he watched the bold girl disappear into the night, "as a man that's been married for twenty-four years, I can tell you that when a woman desires to be left alone ... it's prudent to do so."
" ... What if she doesn't come back?" The tired man's apprehension was suffocating.
"... I suspect she will," as Ernest stuffed the ex-Soldier's payment into a pocket within his suit, "against her better judgment. Now, I need you to focus, Mr. DeWitt. Focus. I can't save you, you have to save yourself. So, tell me ... "
Booker finally turned from the direction Elizabeth had disappeared to and gazed wordlessly toward Jacoby.
The debt-collector continued: "tell me you have a plan. Tell me you have a job lined up. Tell me something ... anything."
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The phone's shrill ring caught the Negotiator's attention. He glanced at his wallclock: 1:43 AM. It was certainly late for a call.
"Noah," he answered the phone simply.
"It's Ernest. As you would say, it's been an interesting night ... "
"Go on," Reed prompted.
"The Immigrant Mafia made an appearance outside of DeWitt's place."
" ... They were there when you arrived to collect?" The Negotiator questioned, curious.
"No ... they arrived a few minutes after," Ernest explained.
" ... So they happened to arrive at approximately 11:33 PM during DeWitt's biweekly payment night. That's a remarkable coincidence. Are you sure -"
"- I swear, sir. I spoke with them. They mentioned Booker DeWitt by name."
" ... I see. So, you spoke with them?"
"I convinced them to leave. There were four of them. One man identified himself as Michal Nogowski-"
"- Ah, I've heard that man's been looking for me," Noah interrupted. The Negotiator had been postponing any sort of parley with the Immigrant Mafia so far ... He wanted to be prepared for such a meeting, and that meant significant amounts of research needed to be done.
"I've his card."
"His phone number, if you would be so kind," Reed insisted as he retrieved a fountain pen and paper, "also, as many details as you can remember of the three other men."
Ernest shared the information. Noah jotted down notes.
"Very well. I'll look into it," Reed informed, "anything else?"
"Booker DeWitt ... he made his payment ... "
"Shocking," Noah muttered, amused.
" ... He has a two-day business trip planned tomorrow evening. You ... are you going to allow him to leave the city?"
Reed paused for a moment. Typically speaking, when debtors requested permission to leave the city, the answer would be immediate laughter followed by a denial.
"Details," the Negotiator insisted.
"It's an escourt job. It will involve a round-trip train ride to the city of Buffalo."
"He doesn't intend to take his gorgeous lover or his daughter, does he?" Reed inquired, lips curled in a smirk.
"No ... "
"I see."
"I don't think he'll make his next payment without this job," Ernest added honestly.
"I'll allow it," The Negotiator decided.
" ... Truly?"
"It's careless of me to permit this, I know" Reed admitted with a sardonic sigh, "he may desperately flee the realm of my influence and losing him would tarnish my glorious reputation ... but, the thought of him abandoning that beautiful gem of his entices me."
Jacoby instantly realized the 'gem' Noah referred to was DeWitt's alluring dark-haired companion. The disheartened man sighed before moving on to the last revelation he had for Noah: "I spoke with her this eve, sir. She ... measured up to each of your claims."
Reed smirked before asking: "And what sort of conversation did you share with the blue-eyed beauty?"
Ernest, in an apprehensive fit, found himself stroking the hairs of his own mustache.
"The lady is ... concerned. She stated she possessed our next payment. She requested that you, specifically, arrive to collect it."
Reed recalled his initial meeting with the strange, sumptuous female. He fondly remembered all the feisty comments that passed her perfect lips ...
"Excellent work, Ernest," Noah complimented with a short chuckle, "you've delivered me a truly exquisite flower."
Jacoby silently moped on the other end of the phone.
"Did you happen to acquire her name?"
"No sir," Ernest responded, "she ... beckoned you to come claim it.
"Oh," the Negotiator smiled, for he certainly loved a challenge, "then I shant disappoint her. Rally the troops tomorrow morn. You, Karl, Piero, and Vincenzo will be accompanying me to DeWitt's apartment. I can't imagine Booker will be thrilled to see me when I arrive to collect my prize."
"Sir ... we could tactfully wait until DeWitt leaves for his business trip later tomorrow eve before going to see the lady ... "
"Oh, we certainly could," Noah responded, voice dripping with devlish humor, "but that wouldn't be nearly as fun."
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What did you do, Booker?
The remorseful expression Elizabeth had seen on DeWitt's face had filled her mind with the worst suspicions. It forced her thoughts toward memories and the past ... One sin that now only existed within her mind and several violent sins that would never disappear: a father that had sacrificed his daughter, a young soldier that happily slaughtered dozens of men in a single evening.
Elizabeth sighed. The wounds caused by Booker's secret betrayals were starting to fester. There would be no more secrets, she decided. There would be no more subtle poisons and false promises. DeWitt, though she loved him dearly, could not be trusted. The man was too afflicted, too desperate ...
I have to use my powers ...
Perhaps she was forever sacrificing the opportunity for a normal life, but a life without Booker was a far worse fate ... for both herself and Anna.
The determined female ventured into a silent New York City alley before summoning a tear. Months of abstaining from using her powers had not dulled her incredible abilities. Effortlessly, she opened a portal into the recent past and stepped inside.
It was a strange feeling ... watching people and events that occurred in the past without being able to interact with any of it. She was a silent, unseen witness to the entirety of Booker's most recent sin: the morbid proposition made by the old, embittered client, the ex-Pinkerton's reluctant acceptance of the task, the intrusion into the unsuspecting home ...
Mr. Emerson had given Booker a key to the home. DeWitt had worn a mask for the despicable task. And soon, the image of the murder would pierce Elizabeth's heart.
Booker found them in the bedroom.
The lovers had been lying together in bed. Mrs. Emerson screamed when she noticed the masked trespasser and the gun he wielded. The young male desperately leapt onto Mrs. Emerson, a poignant attempt to protect the woman from the armed intruder. DeWitt, without hesitation, had lifted his gun and shot the man in the back of his skull.
Booker's method of delivering death made Elizabeth think of a river: the motions were fluid, only capable of moving along its set path. Tears swelled in her eyes as she looked at the young man's corpse. What was this man's crime? Love? The powerful female felt sick. She wanted to open a tear, crawl into it and scream.
The sight of Mrs. Emerson's hysterical crying was enough to cause DeWitt to freeze. Elizabeth had the power to peek underneath DeWitt's mask to observe whatever emotions may have touched his face, but she found herself unwilling to check.
The blonde female slipped out from underneath the corpse of her lover, leaving the bed before backing into the corner of the room where she continuned to sob.
She's too young for her heartless old husband ... too sweet. Don't do it, Booker, Elizabeth silently implored.
"I ... loved him! I loved him ... !" Mrs. Emerson howled mournfully. The words seemed to inspire DeWitt to act. The ex-Pinkerton stalked toward the fearful female. She begged and cried as Booker snagged her arms. After attempting to control the woman's desperate squirming, he managed to land a half-hearted smack across her face. Stunned, the wounded female's panicked shrieking became a low pained cry. Booker struck her again, hard enough that the woman fell to the floor.
Elizabeth couldn't prevent tears from streaming down on her own face. It was convenient that DeWitt's task was now fully completed ... she couldn't watch anymore.
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Elizabeth, still in the past, was warily following the unaware Booker back toward their apartment. DeWitt was expressionless ... slowly trudging through the city streets.
Her father.
Her lover.
A thug.
A murderer.
It was difficult to accept all these words could be considered interchangeable descriptions of her father. Yes, DeWitt had slaughtered possibly hundreds of people in Columbia, but they were virtually all cases of self-defense. Yes, DeWitt had slaughtered dozens at Wounded Knee, but it was a time of war ...
This was a mistake ... Elizabeth lamented sadly. She should have never came to this realm. She should have never seduced Booker. She shouldn't even exist right now. Would any of the parallel sisters she lost believe this horrid act of murder was permissible? Booker just shot a defenseless man in his skull, directly in front of the woman who loved him. Could such an act ever be justified?
Elizabeth remembered that Booker feared Noah Reed ... and suspected Anna and herself were in danger so long as the debt remained unpaid. Did DeWitt just kill an innocent man thinking he was protecting his loved ones?
I don't know if I can forgive you this time ... Booker ...
DeWitt's motions suddenly stopped.
Elizabeth paused to observe the man.
After a still moment, Booker stepped to the closest building. He pressed his back against it's brick wall and slowly slid down to sit on the ground.
"I'm sorry, Anna," DeWitt's hands moved to cover his eyes as emitted the tortured apology, "I'm sorry ... Elizabeth. I want to start over ... I want be someone else."
Elizabeth's heart drooped. Tears, again, gathered in those blue eyes. She thought of Comstock's insidious birth, a man created by overwhelming remorse and fear.
The dark-haired female fell to her knees before DeWitt. She spoke to him, though she knew fully well he could neither see nor hear her.
"I'm sorry, Booker. I've let you endure this alone. I have all these powers and I ... I let you sink into this hellish hole you're in. I'm going to fix this; I will. You ... never gave up on me, in Columbia. Even when I ran from you ... or attacked you. Even when Songbird took me. Even after you saw ... what I could have become. You never gave up ... and I ... " she clenched her fists, gazing at the broken man, "I won't give up on you, Booker."
After a few dismal minutes of watching her father, Elizabeth realized that he would have been on time for his payment had he not stopped to shed these silent tears.
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Author's Note: Note for Booker fans: He's gonna pull it together in this story soon, and I really want to get to the parts where I can write him in a more positive, heroic fashion.
For anyone curious: eleven bucks in the early 20th century was about two-hundred fifty bucks in today's money... so Ernest did throw in a decent chunk of change into Booker's payment.
Anyway! Next chapter should be a shit-ton of fun. There's an intense confrontation between Booker and Noah, Elizabeth's presence in the story explodes in a big way, Ernest gets himself in trouble ... etc. Reviews and ratings are very motivating! Thanks for everyone that took the time to comment. Next semester is about to start so motivation is especially appreciated when it's harder to pump out chapters.
Shout-outs for my repeat reviewers!
AgentGv01: Aw, sorry man. When people asked for some plot I went with a mafia angle(New York City, drama, violence ... seemed like a very obvious choice!), and I can't really throw Booker into a mafia war without a significant cast of original characters. :/ You've inspired me to work on a character listing so I hope it helps if you choose to stick with the story.
Paul Perkins: You're a hero, my friend. A hero! You've no idea how much your support is appreciated. :D
Shtoops: omfg I love the Mark Twain quote. XD That man was brilliant. And thanks for the continued support.
Mr Brown: Thank you for your incredibly kind words. :D You've not only left multiple reviews, but very long and detailed ones. Also, I love the fact that you seem to be a Noah Reed fan because honestly he's a blast to write. I tend to get worried that people aren't getting a lot out of characters like Noah and Ernest, so reviews like yours are a huge help. Gracias, Mr. Brown!
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