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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
- 7
- 8
- 9
Author's Note: Hope you guys enjoy this chapter. It's not quite as action-packed as previous chapters but it hopefully has a lot of heart and drama. Some further development on Booker/Elizabeth's feelings and crimes, some drama between Noah and Ernest.
Original Character List(with some pics) if you guys need it! Giovanni Galucci is very important this chapter ... Martha Jacoby and the Stool of Wonder have earned small profiles.
tobelongfic . livejournal . com
Take out the spaces!
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Booker held Anna in his arms. She cooed and giggled as he tapped her nose and cheeks.
It was the first time that day he felt ... calm. He had affectionately cleaned and bathed her, fed her ... Now he was focused on making her laugh.
He didn't want to leave her. He didn't want to leave Elizabeth, either, though she was very, very angry with him.
After all the taunts and humiliation ... after all the violence ... his mind went to a dark place. Unfortunately, it wasn't the Negotiator or one of his pathetic thugs that paid the price.
It had been Elizabeth.
DeWitt miserably recalled the expression on her face when he finally got her to turn around and face him: an ugly mix of anger and betrayal with a touch of sadness. He much preferred her smiles; yesterday morning was the last time he had witnessed one.
Apologies and explanations instantly poured from his lips at the sight of her wounded eyes, but it wasn't enough. Even though he felt ... certain, she was hiding something from him ... she had at least been honest about not having sex with Noah Reed. Yet ... even if she had done something with the man ... there was no excuse for pulling her thighs apart to satiate his jealous curiosity ... there was no excuse for hurting her ... there was no excuse for taking her in such a forceful way. Why did he demand her loyalty? She wasn't his wife, the mother of his child or his property ... and she had already given him ... so much for so few reasons.
Booker's lacking self-worth brought him to a sad realization: Even if Elizabeth tossed aside sensual exclusivity and slept with every man in the damn city, she'd still be too good of a prize for a chump such as himself. Especially now that he had ... hurt her.
She deserved better.
What's wrong with me? He silently asked the beautiful infant in his hands. Perhaps one day Anna would have the words and understanding to explain it to him.
DeWitt suddenly thought of Ernest Jacoby words: Focus on surviving to see your daughter's first birthday ...
Was it fair to Anna? He had been making foolish, self-destructive decisions the entire week: gambling, drinking ... accepting a job that involved murdering an innocent man and abusing a terrified woman ... giving in to the provocations of a dangerous criminal accompanied by four armed men ... attacking mafiosos and pulling out a gun in the middle of the damn street. Booker would like to pretend the blame belonged entirely to his despicable debt-collector, but he knew better. Was making a deal with Reed one of such poor decisions? It was a noble cause, at least. He was trying to pay off the debt ... and the greatest tools within his kit were all of a violent nature.
When Anna became noticeably sleepy, he set her back within her nursery crib. The act of bending downward produced a sharp pain within his abdomen. Bending down wasn't the best option for easing the pain of a broken rib ... Other poor options included brawling with criminals, jogging through New York City streets and energetic sex.
Booker's thoughts switched back to Elizabeth. She had been in the bathroom for a solid half-hour at this point. He had already been worried over her, but each minute she seemed to ... hide from him just elevated his stress over the situation.
He walked to the bathroom and knocked lightly on the door.
"Elizabeth ... ? Are you ok?"
"I'm fine," she called back instantly.
Booker sighed quietly. He was experienced enough to know that when the words 'I'm fine' left a woman's lips ... it usually meant the exact opposite of the words' connotation.
"I'm not trying to hustle you ... but I'd like to speak to you before I leave," DeWitt informed.
He waited a full minute before realizing she wasn't going to deign him an answer.
" ... I'll be gone for two-and-a-half days, Elizabeth," he added softly.
"I understand."
" ... you know I'm sorry, right?" Booker offered, "I wasn't ... myself."
His apology failed to earn a response. Again, he was feeling dead inside. Caring for Anna had only provided him a temporary recovery. The past twenty-four hours had been exceptionally exhausting for him on an emotional level. He thought of Emerson's wife ... the woman he had struck twice ... the woman he had hit so hard she slumped to the ground. DeWitt truly believed with all his heart that he could never hurt Elizabeth in such a manner ... no matter how stressed, jealous and angry he became.
"Never again ... I promise," Booker pledged before leaving her be.
DeWitt went back to the kitchen and looked about. He didn't have much, but what he did have was completely disheveled. Though Elizabeth usually volunteered to do the cleaning, he would soon have to leave for his escort job to Buffalo, and he had no desire to leave the mess which resulted from his debt and criminal violence in his irritated lover's hands. He removed beer bottles and broken glass from his kitchen table before realizing his frying pan was on the floor with a medium-sized blood spot on it.
"When the hell did this happen?" he asked aloud, thinking over the violent events from earlier. He couldn't recall his pan being pulled from his stove at any point. Was there a scuffle between the remaining criminals within the apartment after he left?
Hope you're all right, Ernest ... Booker wished silently.
ooooooooooooooooooooooo
This is it. The finale. He's going to kill me.
No. Ernest Jacoby did not believe for a second that Noah simply wanted to clean his head wound.
Someone - a man whose name and face Ernest had long-since forgotten - had once told him the key to successfully deterring life's predators was to not look or sound fearful. Look bold. Look defiant. Look dangerous. Jacoby, as he hesitantly sat in the wooden chair Noah had beckoned him toward, decided this advice did not apply to the Negotiator - a predator that preferred his victims to hiss and claw back.
Ernest tossed his homburg hat onto the floor. He wanted his hands free ... just in case the situation became violent. Perhaps, who knows, he could outdraw Noah and shoot him ... or, if that didn't work, perhaps he'd poke the significantly stronger man's eyes out and flee swiftly. Then collect his family and drive far from New York City and they'll all live happily-ever-after some place south- a place with a significantly warmer climate pattern and a woeful absence of Noah Reeds.
Perhaps conversing would alleviate Jacoby anxieties. The Negotiator was being uncharacteristically quiet and he found that realization ... disturbing.
"How did the lady fare?" Ernest asked as Noah claimed his place on the wooden stool before him. He had been truly curious over Booker's blue-eyed lover's ... 'exchange' with the Negotiator. Her last-minute invitation of Vincenzo had been awfully suspicious.
"Wonderfully," Noah responded ambiguously, smirking at his subordinate, "however ... we were interrupted by Mr. DeWitt."
Ernest became silent, deciding that conversation would not ease his nerves. Not even slightly. Now that the two men were sitting in front of each other, Jacoby couldn't even look as his employer, much less converse with him.
"I'll tell you where we found him," Reed declared with a sly smirk, "just outside Hotel Astor."
Jacoby heard the unspoken accusation. He had, after all, been the one to tell Booker to search for Reed at Hotel Astor. Suddenly, his hands clenched into fists. For reasons beyond Ernest's understanding, rage poured out of his soul. Perhaps the day had been filled with too many sickening twists and turns. Perhaps the Negotiator's ridiculous personality had finally destroyed his patience. Perhaps the prolonged sense of fear he had been experiencing finally popped an important blood vessel within his brain. Whatever the cause, Jacoby found himself overwhelmed with rage and ... courage.
"You're correct, sir! I told DeWitt! I made a hasty judgment during a moment of action!" Ernest snapped as he leapt upward, knocking the wooden chair over, "you left the three of us with one of the most skilled combat specialists we've ever targeted ... what did you suspect would happen?!"
Jacoby's bold display forced Noah's smirk to deepen. The mustached man took two steps to the left, so filled with frustrated energy that he couldn't stand still. His eyes were wide ... frantic.
"He attacked us and was about to shoot a defenseless Piero in the skull and I ... I told him where you may be in exchange for our lives," Ernest continued, voice filled with thunder, pointing an accusing finger toward Noah, "we failed to handle him so I attempted to divert the task to you! You're the Negotiator! You're the one who wanted to claim that poor girl before, not after, DeWitt left for Buffalo, and you're the one that provoked DeWitt into a state of despicable madness before snatching his woman before his very eyes ... ! I ... I loathe to admit to this, but, we needed Vincenzo ... he was the one of all of us best suited for - "
"-I killed him. - "
"-keeping DeWitt ... you what?" Ernest asked, instantly losing his line of thought.
Noah smiled at how effortlessly three words had dissolved Jacoby's zealous monologue.
"I killed Vincenzo," Reed clarified before mischievously announcing, "regrettably, he may not be the only loss my organization suffers this day."
The words threatened to suck Ernest's newfound courage straight from his heart. Yes, he had anticipated the possibility of death ... still, the Negotiator's admission had produced a sense of shock from the troubled criminal.
Jacoby made a valiant attempt to gather back his bravery and wits before asking: "Is this it, then? Are you going to kill me? Because I revealed your location to Booker?"
Noah tilted his head to the side, still smiling, but offered no verbal response. Perhaps Reed's silence allowed the resurgence of Ernest's fierce anger.
"Because ... because I didn't hastily scalp the poor man?! You ... you never ask me to commit acts of brutality! Lord knows I don't possess your degree of violence and I admitted to you the first day we interacted with DeWitt that I found myself sympathetic to him," Jacoby argued loudly, becoming overwhelmed by his own raucous rants, "is that my crime? Sympathy? Is sympathy within your syndicate truly worthy of mortal punishment? With all proper respect, I am far too aged for your games! Why I'm ... I'm over fifteen years your senior! - "
"-Ernest. Sit. Before these little outbursts of yours become insulting rather than amusing."
"I will not!" Jacoby shouted.
A dangerous, silent moment passed between the two men as they observed each other. Underneath the weight of the Negotiator's quiet stare, Ernest recalled he was speaking to a man that had been torturing and murdering people by the age of thirteen. The mustached man now regretted this small act of defiance.
Noah was the one to slay the silence with a sharp, heavy laugh.
"I will sit but I am very frustrated about it!" Jacoby announced testily before the humored huffs ended, grabbing the fallen wooden chair and once again sitting before his sadistic employer.
"Ernest," the Negotiator called out when he managed to subdue his laughter, eyeing the frustrated criminal, "it's true ... you're soft, and are certainly far more suited for tasks requiring intelligence and tact, not savagery."
"Then why pressure me to perform such an act? Just to toy with me?"
"I tested you out of necessity, Ernest. Necessity. You're one of two men that know my personal address - the place I sleep during the night, the place I've made supreme efforts to keep secret and secure. If you were to volunteer such information to Booker DeWitt as readily as you volunteered the location of my preferred hotel for bedding women.- "
"- I'd ... I'd never - "
"- I truly do not want Booker DeWitt, of all men, to know where I retire each evening. At Time's Square, he successfully shot a cigarette I held in my hand from a one-hundred foot distance. "
"Truly?" Ernest inquired, jolted.
"Truly," Reed confirmed, smirking, "I subsequently offered him employment."
" ... truly?"
Noah chuckled softly before stating: "You were correct all along; the value of his combat skills far exceeds the value of his debt. He'll be permitted to pay off the monetary deficit on a contract basis."
Jacoby was struggling to absorb all this information. Vincenzo was dead ... DeWitt was going to be allowed to work off his debt ... and Reed seems to have accepted his desperate explanations for today's earlier betrayals. Perhaps this was turning out to be a ... good day?
Ernest felt puzzled. This whole situation was bizarre. Something seemed askew. Could Reed's meeting with Booker's bewitching companion have something to do with this odd twist of events? He looked at Noah, and realized the tall criminal's eyes were without focus. The man was distracted, though still wearing a slight, odd smile.
"Sir?" Jacoby pressed.
"Hm," Noah sighed mirthfully, gazing toward Ernest, "DeWitt forces such ... conflicting desires within me. The businessman in me wants to apply a proper harness on him and profit off of his destructive potential. Yet my ... playful side, continues to be enamored by the thought of killing such a violent celebrity."
"The depths of your insanity has somehow ceased surprising me," Ernest muttered.
Reed chuckled as his attentions returned to Jacoby's bloodied forehead.
"Now that you've calmed ... let's treat this head wound of yours."
Jacoby silently watched his employer reach into the medicine bag. He decided not to focus on the cryptic bag - the duplicity of its contents, knives and medical supplies, would only resurrect his anxieties. Instead, he focused on the stool Reed had sat upon. He found himself musing over its surprising level of sturdiness. Supporting Noah's weight - possibly approaching three-hundred pounds - was no small feat. What a diligent stool. What a courageous stool. A defiant stool that laughed at the Negotiator's heftiness. Lesser stools would have collapsed beneath this tremendous undertaking, but no, not this stool ... This was a stool that held fast to its principles -
"I've one final anecdote for you, Ernest," Noah announced, interrupting Jacoby's nonsensical musings. Medical supplies had indeed been the items selected for removal from the Negotiator's bag; he was currently dampening a cloth with saline solution.
"Could whatever it may be possibly be more surprising than Vincenzo's death or your newest employee ... " Jacoby responded dryly, eyes shifting from the Stool of Wonder toward the Negotiator's gloved hands.
"Oh, it was quite a surprise," Reed admitted with a sly smile before lightly dabbing the cloth along the sanguine portrait of Ernest's dried blood, "any ominous symptoms, Mr. Jacoby? Nausea? Visual disturbances? Difficulty with balance ... ?"
"No ... just an unavoidable headache," Ernest answered hastily before thinking it over and adding: "my sight went white for a brief moment, but has since functioned normally."
As Reed's actions started to unveil the wound, he suddenly became curious by it ... "what caused this wound?"
"An iron pan," Jacoby answered without prudence.
" ... An iron pan," Noah repeated casually, though his actions paused, "odd, my recollection of DeWitt's apartment does not include the presence of such an item."
Ernest felt his heart quicken; he actively ignored the urge to tug at his mustache.
"DeWitt ... fetched it from within the stove."
The Negotiator eased back far enough from the smaller man to look him in the eyes; he was unsurprised by the sight of fear within them.
"So," Reed, though smiling, adopted an accusatory tone, "explain to me why a man that punches fiercely enough to knock the likes of Piero and yourself offbalance with a single blow felt the need to secure his hidden pan during a confrontation with three armed men."
Ernest swallowed, staring back at Reed with widened eyes. Several emotions, fear being the most potent, screamed within his mind.
"You didn't tangle with Booker at all, did you, my friend?"
This is it then.
Jacoby, with all the speed he could muster, attempted to reach into his jacket to draw his pistol. His hands barely managed to slip beneath the fabric of his suitjacket before Noah's powerful grip snagged each of his wrists.
"Now, now, Ernest," Reed scolded, effortlessly pulling the smaller criminal's hand away from that pistol, "you were doing so well ... you bravely revealed your emotions regarding your earlier display of disobedience, explained the Hotel Astor situation with both honesty and passion ... "
As Noah spoke, Jacoby's struggles continued. He attempting to jerk his wrists free of the Negotiator's grip. Ultimately, while Jacoby's desperate efforts left himself red-faced and breathing softly, Reed's excessive strength and nonchalant expression made the conflict's futility painfully clear.
"But now you've foiled your own efforts with this ... ridiculous attempt at deception. Truly, I'm disappointed. Now, cease struggling ... and I'll be kind."
Ernest gazed at Noah as a crippling sense of despair seized him. From personal experience, he knew when the Negotiator made small offers such as this, it was in a man's best interest to instantly accept them. The defeated man allowed his arms to grow limp within his captor's hold.
"Did either Karl or Piero assist you with this deception?" Reed inquired, releasing one of Ernest's wrists so he could reach into the man's suitjacket and grab that pistol.
"No," Jacoby responded weakly, "I checked them first ... DeWitt had stunned them both, so I performed the deed on my own. - I ... I should have used one of the beer bottles, though I feared slicing myself ..."
"Perhaps you shouldn't have self-inflicted any sort of blunt trauma," Noah suggested with a small chuckle, tossing both Ernest's gun and the dampened cloth into the corner of the room, "I sincerely wish I could have witnessed it. Care to perform a reenactment for me?"
"You're a prick ... sir," Jacoby muttered back quietly. The man figured he was about to die anyway ... may as well be forward.
Reed presented a smile that sickened the mustached man. That grip on Ernest's right wrist tightened as the Negotiator reached into his medicine bag to retrieve one of his knives: a thin, four-inch long knife with a wickedly sharp edge.
Forgive this lowly sinner, Lord ...
"As you're well-aware, knives have always been my preferred tool for murder. They're exact instruments ... possessing its wielder's precision. I decide the length of the slices, the depths of the stabs," as he spoke, he began tugging back Ernest's sleeves to expose that wrist he held, " ... I can flay skin, sever vessels and hack off limbs with appropriate blades. To inflict agony ... to grant painless deaths, all within my power."
"Wait, wait ... " Jacoby pleaded as Reed lifted the blade to his wrist, "I've ... I've something to tell you!"
"Mm?"
" ... I've an admission to make," Ernest breathed, "of a ... a betrayal you endured long before this business with DeWitt ..."
Noah smiled as he tapped the flat end of his blade against Ernst's wrist, then asked: "has our entire history been littered with betrayals that I've failed to notice?"
"I ... It needs to be said," Ernest admitted miserably, "it's ... quite a tale, and it ... still tortures me."
Reed eyed the smaller criminal for a moment before speaking: "A story authored by desperation, perhaps?"
"No," then the deflated criminal sucked in a deep breath, staring at the knife at his wrist, "it's truth, I swear ... "
"I do confess that tales of ... torture, intrigue me," the Negotiator chuckled, "go on, then."
Jacoby gathered all the emotional strength he had left before beginning: "I've tried to cast my years with the Galucci mafia from my mind ... Giovanni was a ... difficult man to work for, to say the least. At his worst ... more difficult than dealing with your repulsive antics."
Ernest lightly bit the inside of his cheek as he recalled Giovanni's sadistic nature. Of course there were similarities between the former mob boss and the Negotiator: brutish strength, a lust for violence ... but there was also a significant deviation between them. Where Giovanni's ruthless violence seemed fueled by anger and dark-hearted cruelty ... Reed's sadism was accompanied by a wicked sense of humor and a penchant for psychological torment. Where Giovanni would knock out a man's teeth and, with a sneer, watch him choke on blood and enamel ... Noah would sooner pluck out each individual tooth and make his enemy swallow them, laughing the entire time.
The image of Booker DeWitt suddenly popped into Ernest's mind. Could the White Injun stand among these two loathsome beings, as Reed suspected? Was it possible? Could he truly be similar to Giovanni ... or secretly like Noah? Or perhaps he had a unique version of violence ...
"Best begin; I'm not feeling particularly patient today ... I've much to do," Reed urged, giving Jacoby's wrist a small squeeze.
Ernest sighed deeply as he mused over the past. There were so many mistakes ... so many tragedies - joining the Galucci Mafia was certainly one of the greatest.
" ... there were rumors of you," the nauseated criminal revealed, "rumors that Giovanni had a protégé he was rather fascinated with. Rumors that you were strong and extremely violent. There were conflicts among the rumors ... some said you needed money for your family, others said you were without parents and would have been homeless if Giovanni hadn't invited you to live at the Galucci estate ... I've never sought out all the truths of you but there were two undeniable realities of the situation: Giovanni was obsessed with sculpting you into a powerful murderer, and you, for personal reasons, were willing to do what he asked."
"Fun times, fun times ... " Noah remarked with a soft chuckle.
"Honestly, I didn't think much of the situation until Giovanni gave me the task of being your tutor. He claimed you were smart, truly smart, but during adolescence you were denied a proper education. Then he invited me to a safehouse for a most ... disturbing introduction. There was a bound, gagged man within it and you, of course. Even back then you were tall and ... fairly muscular. I thought you were a man. I thought I was being tasked with educating a grown man ... sometimes I think the Lord himself wanted to deny you a proper childhood ... having your body grow so quickly."
Jacoby found himself pausing after this comment. He nervously eyed the Negotiator for a quiet moment ... expecting some sort of clarifying interjection from the other man, but none came. There was a taste of bile in the back of his throat. He swallowed it down ... thinking it would be an improper time to vomit on his employer.
"Giovanni had you ... beat the defenseless man to death. With your bare hands. You performed the task silently, spiritlessly. You hit him until your knuckles bled and his breathing stopped ... I was uncomfortable witnessing this, but I noticed ... as Giovanni sat there, smirking and complimenting your violent performance, I realized he was having you claim this life for his ... amusement. Sickening, truly ... sickening."
"I did not understand the man in my youth," Noah admitted with amusement, "I do now."
Jacoby, sadly and wordlessly, reviewed the implications of Reed's words before continuing: "When you finished killing the man, Giovanni surprised the both of us. He approached you with a severe, nasty expression on his face. I can't remember his exact words ... - "
"- I certainly do," Noah interrupted suddenly, "I recall them in their entirety. He asked me, 'Who did you just kill?' ... he hadn't provided me the identities of any of the men I had murdered at his behest, so the question confused me. He pressed on: 'who did you just kill? Was this a guilty man? An innocent man? Who were his employers? Will they come after you? Did he have a family? Will his sons seek vengeance? Who were his friends?' ... That's the moment he drew his gun and pointed it between my eyes before asking, 'what if he was my friend, Noah? What if you just killed my friend?' ... "
Noah motioned his knife-wielding hand toward Ernest. It took the smaller criminal a moment to realize the Negotiator was encouraging him to once again take the reigns of the narration.
" ... then he started beating you with his gun, shouting at you for killing his supposed 'friend' the entire time ... It was brutal; I thought he meant to kill you. He broke your nose ... bloodied your face, dislocated your jaw ... "
"Do you recall what he said to me afterwards?" Reed asked with a faint smile.
"Know all your enemies; know them entirely," Ernest answered quietly.
"It was the greatest lesson anyone's ever taught me," the Negotiator admitted. That night had been the reason why Noah, either with or without Ernest's assistance, would spend hours each day obsessively gathering information on the city's various mafias and its members. Names weren't enough ... he wanted it all: birthdates, phone numbers, addresses, lovers, family members, friends ... Giovanni's words remained within his mind with potent resonance, though Reed himself wasn't sure if this was due to the value of the lesson itself or the shocking brutality of its deliverance.
"Carry on, Ernest."
" ... I didn't understand Giovanni's twisted fascination with you until later, when he revealed your age with a fond laugh. Thirteen. A thirteen year-old stronger, taller and thicker than your average man. He smiled and chuckled as he spoke of you ... he wondered if you'd just grow and grow ... become stronger and stronger. I was so disgusted by it ... Who'd senselessly beat a boy for an imaginary crime, simply to make a point? Who'd have a boy murder for entertainment purposes? You weren't a sadistic monster back then ... I daresay you perhaps appeared sad, when you murdered that man," Ernest sucked in a deep breath as the wetness within his eyes began to seep out of them, "forgive me; I ... I can't continue ... "
"Mm," Reed sighed, amused. Of course sweet little Ernest would hint at an unknown betrayal and share enough of this story to intrigue the Negotiator before attempting to quit mid-tale.
"Just ... do the deed," Jacoby murmured despairingly. He didn't want the final moments of his life to be focused on Noah, so he turned his thoughts to his wife. His loving wife. With her curly apple-colored hair and warm smiles. With her soft belly and shrill laughter ... at the onset of their romance he had secretly found her laughs grating but now preferred them over all other sounds of this world. Then his thoughts moved on to his three children. He was so very, very proud of them. All smart and healthy ... his eldest son was noble, his other son was kind and his daughter, the youngest, Abigail, was very clever.
His sadistic employer would interrupt those comforting thoughts.
"Mind holding this for me?" Reed asked as he released Ernest's wrist, performed a quick little flip of his knife and caught the blade so the handle was pointing toward Ernest.
Another test? ... another game? Ernest wondered. His breath hitched as he stared at the weapon. What if it's a trick? Was Noah about to slice him? If he took the knife presented to him ... could he possibly stab the muscular criminal with enough speed and force to inflict a fatal wound? This ... emotional outpouring, despite all of Reed's not-so-subtle threats, somehow felt like an inappropriate time to attempt to kill him ... but Jacoby so desperately wanted to return home to his wife and children.
With his free-hand, Ernest slowly accepted the Negotiator's knife and held it firmly.
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
The warm shower-water provided Elizabeth moderate comfort.
She mentally reviewed the events of the day. Much had happened ... and a significant portion of these happenings were ugly twists in her life.
The callous, animalistic sex she just had with Booker was at the forefront of her mind. DeWitt, the only lover she's ever had, never touched her like that before ... with passion but without affection. And while on a physical level she couldn't claim immunity to the forceful passion they shared ... the emotional implications crippled her heart. Was he capable of becoming an abusive lover? Her neck still felt sore ... she imagined light bruising would soon appear.
She started to compare Emerson's and DeWitt's jealousy-inspired crimes. Suddenly the thoughts began to sicken her and she shoved them from her mind.
Again, she wondered if it was a mistake to come to this particular realm. She reminded herself of why she came here. This version of Booker ... reminded her the most of the sad, broken man that had slaughtered an entire colony of people to rescue her. This Booker also ... needed her. More than many others. And she'd like to think that she truly could heal the wounds of his soul and keep him from both violence and an early death.
She thought of the words he had murmured from outside the bathroom door. A sincere plea to speak with her, an apology ... a promise that it'd never happen again.
Yes... he could be saved. She believed it with all her soul.
There was also Anna. She had already accepted Anna as her own. She did not like the thought of abandoning the tiny girl, even if her father had a significant number of flaws. Elizabeth suddenly wondering how bizarre her relationship with the child would become as she aged and the adoptive daughter looked strikingly similar to her adoptive mother. It's an issue she had, of course, already mused over ... but at the moment she had no answer for how she planned to address it to both Booker and his daughter as she grew.
There was a soft sigh when the shower's water began to run cool. Perhaps it was time to confront Booker. The pale girl scrubbed her body with a soap-saturated cloth once more. It was mental, she thinks, all that imaginary filth that encouraged a repeat cleansing of her own body.
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Booker paused cleaning when he heard the shower water stop.
When he heard the creak of the bathroom door opening, he stepped into his bedroom to confront Elizabeth.
She glared at him. Of course she would glare, that didn't surprise him at all, but it felt like an unavoidable punch to the gut. The wet female adjusted the towel wrapped across her body, making sure none of her feminine portions were available to his eyes. It felt vaguely insulting to Booker. It was a body he's already seen and touched hundreds of times ... did she think the sight of her would mount uncontrollable urges within him?
He sighed sadly. Perhaps she had every right to distrust him. Perhaps they were back at square one. Well, perhaps he would do a better job of being a man this time.
"Are you ... ok?" Booker asked gingerly.
"I don't want you in here right now," she announced as she stepped toward the closet to pull out her only nightgown.
With her back turned, the sight of the puncture wound on her upper back once again revealed itself to the ex-soldier. He found himself stepping toward her, curious. It still looked ... fairly fresh. Certainly not like a puncture wound that had occurred months ago.
"Elizabeth ... "
"Don't come near me," she warned.
More words that felt like physical strikes; DeWitt swallowed his despair.
"Honestly, Elizabeth," he said gently, "there's something wrong with the wound on your back. Can I take a quick look at it?"
The troubled girl paused ... she reached a hand behind her own back, attempting to touch it. In fact, she actually didn't feel it at all unless she arched her back in a certain way, so she didn't think about it very often.
"Is it infected ... ?" she asked finally.
Booker considered this consent to take a look at the wound. He stepped behind her and crouched down so he could observe it closely.
The ex-soldier wasn't a doctor, but when you have a long history of violence you get familiar with the body's healing patterns.
"Have you been scratching it?" DeWitt asked.
"Not at all."
He sniffed for the scent of infection, but all he could smell was soap.
"I don't think it's infected, but I'm still worried about it," Booker confessed, "perhaps we should take you to a hospital ... or a specialist."
Elizabeth frowned. She tried not to think of the tortures she endured in Columbia ... tried not to think of whatever they did to her that would produce a wound that couldn't heal properly...
"Don't be silly; we have no money," Elizabeth finally responded.
The comment struck both sadness and hope within Booker. No, they had no money, but she used the word 'we' ... and it made him think she still had plans to have a future with him.
"Can you turn around?" she asked, "I want to get dressed."
"Sure," he responded quietly, taking a few steps and politely turning his vision the opposite direction of her body.
"So ... the apartment's a mess," she pointed out as she removed her towel and began to slide into her nightgown.
"I'm going to clean it."
"What happened?" Elizabeth asked. Of course, she had her powers, and she knew exactly what happened ... but she wasn't supposed to know such things, and besides ... seeing what details people would and wouldn't remember, and what they would lie about, always interested her.
"I was worried about you ... and Reed's thugs were- ... the young one was taunting me."
"The cute one, you mean?" she asked casually ... testing to see if pointing out Piero's good-looks would throw Booker into another ridiculous, jealous rage.
" ... I didn't find him cute," DeWitt responded, "maybe because he kept aiming his gun at me and saying 'bang' ... maybe because I don't think of other men that way."
"So, you attacked first?"
"I did; I ... needed to find you, Elizabeth," he confessed.
"Did you kill any of them?"
"No."
"If you would have just relaxed like I asked you, we'd be debt-free right now," Elizabeth pointed out with a sigh, turning to face the ex-Pinkerton's back.
"Elizabeth, you're ... you're smart, and capable, but you're also young and ... well, innocent. Reed's a violent, seasoned criminal. I still haven't figured out why you thought you could bargain with him."
The words irritated her. Partially because there was some truth in it. She had used death threats on a man unafraid of death and achieved poor results. In a sense, the words further inspired her anger with Noah. She's find a harsher way to make her point next time she waltzed with the Negotiator.
Or simply kill him.
"I needed you to trust me, Booker-"
"- you make it ... really difficult. You're hiding things from me, you won't share your plans -
"-instead you've sold your soul to the devil," her annoyance reflected within her tone, " ... and you've offered to do violent, dangerous work for him. What happens to Anna and I if you're killed?"
"I'd rather it be me in his hands than you ... I thought he might hurt you, Elizabeth," DeWitt explained.
"He didn't; you did," she responded without hesitance, folding her arms about her chest.
There was a painful pause to the conversation.
"Elizabeth ... can I turn around?"
The female ignored his request and continued: "you ran about New York City attacking people and waving around your gun ... that's madness, Booker. That's insanity. And then you ... involved me in your insanity."
" ... Reed ... he got under my skin ... "
"And peeled it right off," she murmured sadly, "was that the true you, Booker?"
"He ... had his men hold me down, threatened to mutilate me ... threatened to touch Anna," DeWitt argued, struggling to keep himself from raising his voice, "you weren't there, Elizabeth. You don't ... understand."
The frustrated girl sighed thoughtfully. Her lover was making a noble effort to rectify the situation.
"He said he'd convince you to leave me," the ex-Pinkerton added softly, eyes casting downward.
"You truly believe I'd leave you for a man like Noah Reed?"
Booker didn't have the heart to explain his fears to her. He had noticed Reed's behavior change that occurred the moment Elizabeth interrupted their brawl hours ago - insults and threats were quickly replaced with polite bows and smooth compliments. Noah also exuded success, confidence ...
Then there was that muscular body; DeWitt knew first-hand that Elizabeth was attracted to such physiques.
"I don't think you realize what a monster he is," he answered.
Elizabeth bit her lip, wondering exactly how deeply Reed had burrowed himself within Booker's mind. She examined the spots of Noah-blood on Booker's shirt; she wondered if he considered those stains a medal.
"I do; he's despicable. - I must ask another question."
"Ya?
"Am I not allowed to leave you?"
Elizabeth almost didn't ask this, fearing his answer, but the hiss of the word 'mine' was echoing within her ear, and Emerson's cold-hearted order for the murder of his wife's lover was still fresh in her mind. No, she did not want to leave him, but she still expected her wishes to be respected. She didn't want Booker grabbing her and shouting at her in public or dragging her into the bedroom during bursts of insane jealousy.
The ex-soldier mulled it over despondently before answering honestly: " ... Not for him ... if you found a good man that would treat you well ... I'd be okay with it. I ... can't say I'd be thrilled, but ... you deserve to be happy. "
Elizabeth's heart warmed. It was an acceptable answer. In fact ... it was pretty close to perfect. There was a soft sigh before she told him: "I'm still very mad at you."
"I'm sorry," he repeated, "I'd like to look at you and say so."
"All right ... " she consented after some hesitation.
Booker turned. It was strange; the sight of her seemed to save him and destroy him at once. He mused over all the qualities she had that he cherished: the kindness, the intelligence, the beauty, those eyes ...
Were there qualities he had that she would miss? He thinks whatever the number is, it's too small. When he came back, he'd provide her more.
"Truly, Elizabeth," he murmured gently, "it won't happen again. No matter what does or doesn't happen in our future. I promise."
The conflicted girl found herself reaching forward to take his large, calloused hands into her own. Eager to keep her touch, he wrapped his fingers about hers.
" ... When you come back from Buffalo," she said in a hushed tone, "you're going to remind me that you're capable of being gentle."
"I will; I'm sorry, Eizabeth."
She felt Booker lightly squeeze her hands.
The beginnings of forgiveness formed within her steadily beating heart.
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Stab him in the eye ... stab him in the eye. It's probably the only place on that damn body of his soft enough to accept a blade ... But Jacoby's mental urgings failed to convince his hand to cooperate.
Noah was smiling, as though daring Ernest to make a move. He casually slipped a hand into his suitjacket, pulling out a thin case from an inner pocket and removing a cigarette from it.
"Charming story so far, my friend," Reed teased, lighting his cigarette, "is there a happy ending?"
"You know there isn't," Jacoby murmured.
Ernest loathed the man's supreme confidence. Here they were, Jacoby with a weapon and the Negotiator with a nicotine-stick, and the tall criminal was acting so casual you'd think he considered himself invincible. Or perhaps he thought Ernest incapable of killing him.
"Care to exchange?" Noah asked, extending his cigarette-wielding hand toward the emotionally-exhausted criminal.
"Do I ... have a choice?"
"No."
They exchanged the cigarette for the knife. Jacoby, as he scolded himself for not even attempting to kill Reed with the blade, slid that cigarette into his mouth and inhaled deeply. Bizarrely, this short intermission, along with the removal of the blade from his wrist, had allowed him to calm marginally. Jacoby couldn't pinpoint the exact moment he stopped leaking tears ... but his eyes were still red and his face was now moist with sweat.
"I'm enjoying this story," Noah revealed before insisting, "I'm eager to hear its conclusion."
Jacoby sighed. He briefly contemplated refusing ... but history dictates that victims who refused Noah's demands were far worse off than the more cooperative ones.
"After the eve of your ... violent lesson at Giovanni's hands, I was to bring you to my home twelve hours daily to educate you. You were an apt pupil, with a quiet, serious personality - the absolute opposite of what you are now," Ernest felt the need to point out that Noah hadn't always possessed that insane sense of humor, just in case the Negotiator had forgotten he almost had a normal personality at one time, " ... Martha was instantly sympathetic to you, for your face was swollen with awful bruises. In private, I admitted your age to her and she shrieked and cried ... She asked about your situation and I .. feigned ignorance ... "
A moment of silence. For a small time, thoughts of his wife, Martha, distracted Jacoby. He silently wondered if he'd see her or his kids again. When was the last time he had said 'I love you' to the four of them? They had all been asleep when he left for work this morning ... did he say the words to them yesterday?
"Go on," Reed instructed impatiently.
"... As time went by," Ernest continued, "Giovanni apparently wanted someone to share his secret joy of you with, for he began to invite me to many of your late-night performances. I've no understanding of how your mind and body endured the constant challenges he set before you ... the boxing lessons, the kills, those brutal teachings ... Pity swelled within me as I watched you ... perform for him and I ... "
Another pause here ... one that included a long drag from that cigarette.
"I suddenly found myself imagining rescuing Giovanni's solemn boy-gladiator. Months went by, and I continued to witness this ... physical and psychological abuse. I tried to summon the courage to interfere, but Giovanni ... had no qualms about killing men who offended him and I ... I was too frightened to act."
Noah's smirk deepened. Ernest's fear of Giovanni was certainly justified - the man had no qualms killing any man ... employee or otherwise.
"When Martha became pregnant with our first son, thoughts of fatherhood gave me strength. I resolved to finally remove you from his clutches. I conjured a plan: I would tell Giovanni your education was going poorly, and that you should reside within my home so I might teach you from dawn until dusk. I revealed two truths to Martha: that you lived with Giovanni and that he was regularly beating you. I ... elected not to tell her of all the violence you committed at his command, fearing she would deny you."
"You lie to Martha often, don't you?" Reed assumed with a smirk.
"Please don't speak my wife's name ... "
"As you wish."
" ... Martha ... embraced my plan ... she found you to be a polite, respectful boy and thought you'd make a wonderful older brother for our first child. So it was decided. 'This will be the night,' I told myself as the three of us entered another safehouse to, again, watch you kill a grown man. I stood beside Giovanni as you began your violent task. As I ... as I sought the appropriate words to convince Giovanni that you should rehome with me, I noticed ... something I had never seen before: your smile," Ernest's eyes once again began to water, "you were smiling ... as you killed this new man. The sight of it ... stole my nerve. I said nothing to Giovanni that night."
Jacoby sucked another deep drag from that cigarette, attempting to control his tears, before speaking: "The next day, your education with me continued. You were as well-mannered as usual, with no sign of the previous day's inclination for violence, and I ... I decided I should continue with my plan of rescuing you from him. Another safehouse, another night where a thirteen year-old boy was destined to murder for his foul employer. I moved beside Giovanni, who was verbally encouraging your violence, and as I opened my mouth to speak ... I heard your laughter. I froze ... and listened as you quietly mocked your dying victim."
Jacoby pointedly refused to look at Noah for the remainder of the tale. He had often wondered what life may have been like if he had successfully adopted Reed long before he could earn that notorious title: the Negotiator.
"At this point, I knew it in my heart: I was too late," another regretful pause, "your mind was gone; murder was now bringing smiles and laughs from you. I could not ... I could not beckon you into the home that was about to see the birth of my first child," the saddened story-teller admitted as he wiped at his dripping eyes and nose, "I did, indeed, speak with Giovanni that night ... but I instead told him ... you were a remarkable student that had learned quickly, and that I no longer saw the need to bring you into my home for any further lessons."
There was a heftiness to Ernest's despair. He still couldn't look toward Reed. He assumed that abominable smirk was on the sadist's face ... and the thought that Noah might be entirely immune to his words crushed him.
Noah would have surprised him. There was only a slight smile on his face, no sinister smirk. There was no controlling his absurd sense of humor. Loki, he would tell people. Loki was the source of his despicable drollery.
"What did your wife say?" Reed inquired.
" ... I lied to her. I told her I extended you an offer to join our home, and that you refused it."
"That's quite a story, dear Ernest ... " as that smirk finally began to reveal itself, "to think all that supposed sympathy of yours would become feelings of loathing."
Jacoby's stomach twisted.
"I do not hate you, Noah. - "
"- A desperate lie," Reed accused.
Ernest found himself quivering - his lips, his hands ... it made smoking difficult.
" ... Let there be no misunderstanding between us, Noah ... your actions disgust me ... I .. I absolutely believe you deserve death for the hundreds of atrocities you've committed. But I remember that sad boy, when I look at you ... and all the hatred I feel is aimed toward myself."
Noah cocked his head to the side, still smirking.
Ernest offered a heart-broken elaboration: "I was the only one who knew ... the only one that could have helped you. I-I've spent my whole life begging for God's forgiveness ... yet I never once had the strength to properly request yours-"
"-Quite all right. There's no need for apologies, my friend. With Giovanni's guidance, I turned out wonderfully," Noah responded as a hand quickly snapped forward to once again grab and tug Ernest's exposed wrist outward, "perhaps the knowledge I'm about to impart with you will heal the wounds of your soul-"
"-Noah," the surprised criminal called out. That cigarette slipped from his hand, and his chest heaved with a breathless, fearful sob. Again, those eyes closed as he felt the point of Reed's knife touch his wrist.
"Your plan to ... oh, rescue me was futile and foolish," the Negotiator informed with a chuckle, "look at me, my dear friend ... look at me."
Jacoby, trembling, opened his eyes. Noah stared directly into them with the deepest of smirks.
"Futile and foolish," Reed repeated as he playfully traced a vertical line along that wrist, "Giovanni would have never released me ... not to your care or anyone else's."
"Noah, I - "
"- have I eased your frail heart?"
The light came first, suddenly and brightly. It blinded both men when it flashed within the three windows of the safehouse.
Ernest blinked. He thinks it wasn't real. He thinks smacking his own forehead with a pan may have had unexpected consequences. But Noah's reaction - the tensing of posture and muscle, the snapping of narrowed eyes toward one of the windows - tells him it happened.
He had just enough time to wonder if the Negotiator had intended to pounce and stab the light itself. Then the sound of shattering glass pierced through his shrivled sense of sanity. A fierce wind, a potent mix of moisture, howls and force, poured into the safehouse and swirled about them.
Noah had been so preoccupied with nature's violent intrusion that he was unprepared for Ernest's wild response. There was a started cry from the mustached man. Reed flexed his wrist to avoid slicing or impaling Jacoby who, already jittery from the anticipation of death, instinctively leapt forward into the knife-wielding criminal. The floundering man smacked roughly against the Negotiator's body - or perhaps against a tall pile of bricks wrapped in skin. He wasn't entirely sure.
Besides the windows, there would be one more victim of Elizabeth's divine intervention: the Stool of Wonder, unable to endure Ernest and Noah's combined weight, cracked and snapped apart. Both men toppled to the floor.
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
As Booker took a much-needed shower, Elizabeth was left lurking within the apartment with nothing more than her dark thoughts. Her anger felt like an ocean wave - curling, smacking and crawling across the shore before inevitably receding.
Love had a funny effect on people. So did hatred.
Elizabeth had no doubt both emotions had fueled Booker's earlier rage ... And now, violent memories were stirred. She recalled a similar rage - it led to DeWitt bashing Comstock's skull against marble until it split apart ... it led to a perturbing promise to strangle an infant. She didn't think anyone would be able to invoke as much fury from Booker as his own baptized, villainous self ...
And those thoughts brought her to the Negotiator.
To say he was infuriating was an understatement.
Was he even capable of obedience? Had he paid off Booker's debt per her command? She wanted her lover's liability to be taken care of immediately ... regardless of the ridiculous arrangement DeWitt had made with Noah.
She used her powers ... Her sight that could transcend time and space. As her familiarity with Noah grew, it was becoming easier to find him. It took less than a minute to spy him in his small safehouse with a very frightened Ernest.
Reed was holding a sharp blade against his trembling subordinate's wrist.
The sympathetic female gasped. Then, again, that tide of anger seized her. She had remembered Jacoby's kindness when presenting Noah her list of demands back at the pier earlier in the afternoon ... and she had explicitly told the Negotiator that the kind man was to be spared.
Several ideas emerged in her mind to put an end to the potentially violent scenario. Some were instantly rejected - she wouldn't appear there in person and reveal herself to Jacoby ... it was too suspicious to simply tug Noah out of the room and shift him elsewhere. The only quick and feasible plan she could come up with was an intervention that resembled a natural one.
First, she used her space-twisting powers to smash apart the glass windows. It would produce a light similar to the ones which had fastened themselves to Vincenzo's wrists when she displaced his hands ... and Elizabeth was certain the clever Negotiator would instantly recognize this fact.
Then, she reached through time and space to pluck a portion of a particularly nasty tempest to hurl upon that unassuming safehouse after shattering those windows.
Elizabeth watched the two men's opposing instinctive reactions: Reed's anticipation and Jacoby's fear. Ernest leapt into Reed and that valiant stool broke. Both men fell. Noah quickly shoved Ernest off his body as the furious wind shrieked through the walls of the safehouse. It was only a miniature storm, not exactly fierce enough to toss about grown men or consume the walls of the safehouse ... but it certainly put an end to the dramatic confrontation.
Reed held onto his glasses as he stood upward. Ernest crawled into the corner of the room, mumbling a prayer. Deciding she made her point, Elizabeth removed the storm.
It was convenient timing; Jacoby finally gave into his nausea and began puking in his sad little corner. Noah pulled a cloth from his pocket and wiped the excess moisture off his glasses, wearing a half-smile. Both men's clothes were now damp.
She continued to watch and listen to them.
"It's ... it's a sign from God!" Ernest proclaimed, "you're ... forbidden from killing me!"
Elizabeth, if she weren't so angry at the Negotiator, may have laughed at how close to the truth the statement was.
"Yes ... it must be God," Noah chuckled as he stalked toward one of the broken windows, gazing out at the suspiciously quiet gray sky, "I shall immediately subscribe to a life of piety."
Jacoby dry-heaved before suggesting: "you should spare my life and dismiss me from your employ. God ... clearly favors me so ... you best do so before He smites you."
The Negotiator ignored the sickened man's words. Instead, he declared: "I discovered her name, Ernest."
Reed leaned into the window frame as he continued to stare outward, smirking. He knew ... somewhere, there were a pair of blue eyes gazing upon him.
"That's right, Noah," she whispered to herself, "I'm watching you."
"Her name is Elizabeth ... and she is divine."
"I can't wait until I have you alone, Mr. Negotiator; we need to review your 'list of offenses.' "
ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
Author's Note: Thanks for the support everyone! You guys have no idea how motivational reviews/votes can be. I truly, truly appreciate everyone who took the time to comment or fav!
Shout-outs!:
Incidental Vegan Cannibal: Heeey. As always, I appreciate your repeat reviewage! I love the fact that you comment on the stuff that makes you laugh, cause I honestly have no idea if my humor helps or hurts the fic. XD. You're the only one that comments on the lighter moments, so I find myself wondering if other people also like the humor or if I'm just detracting from the story(especially since I got an odd sense of humor that doesn't translate for everyone). What I'm trying to say is, you're the major reason I'm keeping the humor alive!
(PS - was totally writing this shoutout at work and a coworker walked up behind me, read your name aloud and smacked me in the back. I incurred bodily damage thanks to you!)
Paul Perkins: Thank you sir! I'm glad you're enjoying the story. Lol I'm trying to keep you guys guessing! I actually try to tie information from older chapters into newer ones, so if people are ever really, really bored one day and reread the fic, they'll see the small bits of foreshadowing I put into previous chapters.
Mah. Sorry to you and my other adultfanfictionnet fans that I couldn't sneak in a sex scene in this chapter.
Shtoops: I love your reviews. I love your wit. I love your Mark Twain. Of course Im grateful to hear from ya and it makes me very, very happy that you're pledging to stick with the fic. Honestly, the evolution of this story is probably just as odd as the evolution of the reviews you just mentioned!
I'm very fond of Ernest, so this chapter was oddly emotional for me to write, and I do hope readers feel for him. I've wanted to make him a bled of comedy and sincerity, which is a bit of a juxtaposition, and adding a juxtaposition to a kind-hearted criminal makes perfect sense to me. I also have a neat future planned for Karl, who is another character I really like. Possibly because my mental image of him is Ron Perlman. I like the idea of giving faces to Booker's enemies, it will hopefully make future confrontations more emotional. And since I'm admittedly not the best at writing fight scenes, the emotional aspect will hopefully help carry the scenes. That said, there's gonna be a lot more action in chapters that will be coming soon so I'm gonna try hard to make them awesome(mobster hideout siege coming soon!). I'm also consciously trying to make the sex scenes better, lol. I've gotten solid advice from reviewers - Here's hoping I improve the writing with both types of scenes.
Again Shtoops, thank you, bless you, love you, marry me, and other things.
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