[closed; a catch-all]

[washitaway]

Characters: Booker DeWitt; Elizabeth Comstock
Date: This'll be various threads throughout the month. This is just a catch-all to prevent spamming.
Location: Various, but probably mostly in their suite.
Situation: Various.
Warnings/Rating: Possibly some discussion of violence/trauma/child neglect. Will update as necessary (thread headers may be used for more specific warnings).

Comments

[washitaway]

Maybe because we're on the back of a giant damn turtle! How the hell should I know?

[He doesn't mean to snap at her; he's just frustrated with it all - the world-shifting, the confused memories, all of it.]

Look, I'm sorry. I don't know what to tell you.

[beunbroken]

[It's a good thing her tea isn't in her hands, or it would have fallen all over her. Instead, at his words, she winces away from him, shutting her eyes tight. There may even have been a small whimper. Not because of him. Just...

Well, she didn't want to talk about it, either.

After a moment, she tries to speak again, her voice tight.] Then... I don't know what to say, Booker.

[washitaway]

[Well, great. Now she's upset. He didn't mean to make her upset.

Carefully, he wraps an arm around her and pulls her close.]

Look, it doesn't matter. Not here. Right? Things are the way they are. We made it out, Comstock can't hurt you anymore, that's what's important. We don't need to worry about anything else, right?

[beunbroken]

[She shrugs out of his arms, disguising it as reaching for her tea.]

It does matter. Because it still hurts you. Whatever it is.

[washitaway]

It doesn't hurt. Nosebleeds don't hurt. They might be a bother, but I've dealt with worse.

[He rests his hands on his knees, letting her do as she pleases. He'd never force her into contact.]

[beunbroken]

The nosebleed isn't what I meant.

[She looks at his left hand, at the raised scars there.]

it's his right hand lol ;)

[washitaway]

Look, Elizabeth. The mistakes I've made, the regrets I've got - I've been livin' with them a long time. Nothing you do is gonna change that. Nothing anyone could do will change it.

[He reaches out, hesitates, then touches her hair, the lightest brush of his fingers before he drops his hand again.]

You're a decent sort, I know. But the past is the past.

with AD? I totally could have sworn it was the left

[beunbroken]

[At his touch, she looks up at him.]

I know. I just want to help you the way you've helped me.

http://bioshock.wikia.com/wiki/File:The_False_Shepherd_sign.jpg

[washitaway]

You think you haven't helped me?

[Booker shakes his head, frowning slightly.] Trust me, you have.

Damn. Somehow I got it into my head that it was the left. I AM THE WORST DAUGHTER EVERRRRR

[beunbroken]

Not in the ways that you've helped me.

I don't know. I just... I think you bottle so much up, Booker. That can't be good for you.

pfft

[washitaway]

I live with it, that's all.

[He sighs a little.] I don't think it's a bad thing, that we help each other in different ways. I do my best to make sure nobody can hurt you, and you cook and... knit warm sweaters.

[beunbroken]

You bottle it up, and it's eating away at you. That's what dreams are. The subconscious.

[Best pep-talk ever, dad.]

I know. But I want to be someone you can talk to, too.

[washitaway]

You are. Nothing's eating me. You've done and seen as much as I have, well.

We both have nightmares. Nothing to be done about it.

[He rubs the back of his neck absently.]

I had a good time the other night, at the bonfire. I'm glad we went. [There - that's him telling her something.]

[beunbroken]

No, I haven't. [She hadn't been at Wounded Knee. She'd only heard what he'd done. But to be there would have been something completely different.

And there he was, trying to change the subject. Jerk.]

You just stood around and watched me and drank. [And refused to dance.]

[washitaway]

Yes, and I spoke to some folks, and I enjoyed myself.

[He just gives her a long, steady look, like duh, that was fun! That was Booker, having fun. Okay?]

[beunbroken]

[Booker, we need to find another merry-go-round for you to hop on. Stat.]

...Fine.

I never asked, other than the Pinkertons... What did you do in New York?

[washitaway]

[What is so wrong with having fun by proxy?]

I did much the same as what you saw me doin' in Columbia. Folks'd hire me to find things, or people. [Or sometimes steal things, or threaten people.]

[beunbroken]

[Nothing, because she did it to. But that... wasn't what she meant.]

I see. That's how the Luteces' found you. To find me. [She knew they'd hired him. Hired him to free her, and in exchange, they would pay off his debts. That was the theory she'd thrown to Robert, and he had confirmed it.]

Can I... ask... how long ago you lost her?

[washitaway]

[That makes him flinch slightly - her question quite literally hits a little too close to home for him.

It's just a painful memory that he doesn't like to touch. But she already knows as much as anyone.]

It was a long time ago. Twenty years or so.

[beunbroken]

Oh. [She squeezes her eyes shut.] I'm sorry. I shouldn't ask. I wasn't thinking. [She was just curious.]

You don't have to tell me anything you don't want me to, Booker. But when you do, I'm going to be ready to listen.

[washitaway]

Look, it's not - [Booker sighs a little.] I'm not proud of a lot of the things I've done - but trust me, you already know the worst of it. There's not much else to tell.

[beunbroken]

I understand...

But... I think, where are a lot of good things you've done that you can be proud of. You saved me, Booker. If nothing else, you should be proud of that. You risked your life to save a girl you didn't even know. Maybe for the wrong reasons, but when you realized that, you changed your tune. That takes a lot.

[washitaway]

I'm proud of you. I might've gotten you outta that tower, but you saved yourself as much as I did.

[He says that earnestly - the compliment is nice, but he doesn't need it. She needs to know how special she is, though.]

[beunbroken]

[She knows she's special, and she hates it. All she wants is a normal life, to be Just Elizabeth. Here she can have that. As much as a girl who can rip open the fabric of time and space can be.

And thankfully, Booker lets her be.

She leans over again, wrapping her arm around him.] Maybe. But I needed your help to do it. Don't count yourself out.

[washitaway]

I won't. I promise.

You know, Jack said much the same to me the other night.

[He accepts the embrace, his own arm going around her shoulders.]