ataraxion | seventh tear ♫ video;

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seventh tear ♫ video;

Hello? I hope this is working... I'm never really sure.

[ Elizabeth, looking much more cheerful than during her last broadcast, smiles brightly for the camera. ]

Well! I've been having some strange headaches lately, so I thought it might help to focus my attentions on something. I was given a few things from home in my locker after the last Jump and put them to good use.

[ Voilà! She reveals a painting. Elizabeth beams at it as she turns from the camera, then chews thoughtfully on her lip as if looking to fault it. ]

I only had red, so it isn't as... vivid as I might have liked, but I'm hoping that the next Jump will have a few more colors. [ She huffs shortly, tucking a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. ] If anyone else has any art supplies and wouldn't mind sharing, please let me know! It seems a little morbid, almost, just using black and red.

And... I can do some sketches or paintings for anyone, if there are any requests. I'm far from any kind of proficiency, but it does help to take my mind off of things.

[ private to Booker DeWitt ]

Where are you? You are on this floor and I wanted to show you something!

[ private to Murphy Pendleton ]

I wanted to apologize for-- well, everything. You know. [ She flushes, clearly fretting. ] I can't tell you how... mortified I am.

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[ Without comment and as discretely as possible, Elizabeth pushes his dish away and slides her own bowl in front of him. ]

Again. [ She repeats, and sighs. ] I wish that I knew. You haven't hit your head, or... gotten any kind of other injuries, have you?

[ Though she's fairly sure of the answer. What could this be? ]

It... could have something to do with the pressure up here, couldn't it?

No, nothing's happened.

[ He frowns at the bowl suddenly in front of him, and wordlessly pushes it back to Elizabeth. ]

It could, but...why now? Nothing's changed.

[ He sighs, and he has to ask, although he's sure he knows the answer. ]

You haven't had anything like this happen, have you?

[ She, in turn, slides it back in front of him with slightly more force than before. ]

I don't know. ... I think some things change here that we can't feel, exactly. There may have been something keeping the pressure at a certain level that isn't functioning anymore, or... we've traveled to a different location. I think that it could be a lot of reasons.

[ She fiddles briefly with her thimble. ]

... A little. I've had a few headaches and-- Well, not as much as you have.

[ He doesn't push it back - this is getting ridiculous - but he does ignore it for the moment, instead looking at Elizabeth in concern. She hadn't mentioned any of this before. ]

A few headaches, and...?

And a nosebleed. [ She won't lie to him about it if there doesn't seem to be anything really wrong. Elizabeth calmly takes a sip of water and eyes him closely, noting the blood at his own nose, guessing there might be a throbbing near his brain to accompany it. ]

The food isn't helping at all, then. [ Whoooops, directed that conversation right back to him and his issues, thanks. ]

[ Elizabeth getting a nosebleed is honestly more worrying than Booker getting two himself. He frowns at her, then sighs and glances at the bowl. He'd inhaled a surprising amount of his own soup before he'd ruined it by bleeding in it, but he's still hungry.

Even so, he's not about to let her go without on his account. ]

You've hardly touched this, Elizabeth.

And you clearly haven't had enough! And of the two of us, I'm the one who's been eating regular meals.

[ HARD TRUTHS sorry buddy ]

I've had plenty.

[ It's not precisely true. But he can always come back and make more soup.

He pushes the bowl back over to her, and leaves his hand there so she can't push it back. ]

Eat.

[ Elizabeth tries anyway, putting her smaller hand on the other side and trying to push it back without using enough force to topple the bowl. ]

I can always make more, but I really think you should eat this!

[ He scowls, his expression stubborn. ]

I'm fine, Elizabeth. You don't have to worry about me.

[ But she's just as stubborn, he knows, and he sighs, giving in slightly. If neither of them gives a little, they'll just be doing this all day long. ]

Eat this. I'll make more for both of us, okay?

But I do worry. [ And she does have to, as far as she's concerned, based on empirical evidence.

... Eventually, she sighs, still looking pouty, and accepts the soup. ]

All right. [ "But I'm not happy about it, do you hear?" ] But will you promise to eat something else, too?

I'll make more right now.

[ And true to his word, he gets up and goes to turn the stove back on to heat up while he washes the pot. ]

You shouldn't.

[ He says it over his shoulder from the sink, not looking at her. ]

Maybe I shouldn't, but I do; I need to, after everything that I--

[ She cuts herself off, staring adamantly down at the half-full bowl of soup. Her body language, if he looks, suggests shame. Regret. Embarrassment. Elizabeth messes with the thimble on her finger and tightens her shoulders at her side.

Will we ever be able to move past what happened?

A headache bites at her brain from the inside and she winces. ]

... I'll try to keep more to myself. [ She finally says, still not meeting his eyes. ] I know I can be... overbearing.

That's not what I -

[ He stops, sighing in frustration. How is it that he manages to mess things up every time? He sneaks a look over his shoulder, and the way she's sitting, with her shoulders hunched and her head bowed, is like a knife to the gut.

He'd never meant to upset her. Never meant to...to stop her from being who she is. Yes, he'd rather she didn't needle him about food and about the drinking, he'd rather she didn't poke her nose into his business, but he'd take that a thousand times over just one instance of Elizabeth biting her tongue on his behalf and looking that embarrassed and ashamed.

He's a bad influence on her. He's not good for her. Isn't that what this whole thing's about?

Abandoning the pot, Booker walks back over, wiping his hands dry on his pants, and leans his elbows on the table across from her. It takes him a moment to speak, as he struggles with what to say. ]

You're not overbearing, Elizabeth. It's just...

...All of this. The food, the tours of the ship. Hell, you made a whole city just because you thought I'd want to see it.

[ And he hadn't, not really, which is worse. She'd picked up on his lack of enthusiasm, he knows, and it had made him feel like scum, but what could he do? He doesn't have that same enthusiasm for life, that same inner joy that Elizabeth does. He wishes he could, sometimes, when she gets so delighted just at simple things and she's trying to drag him along and make him enjoy them with her, but he just can't. ]

I ain't worth...all that effort.

[ He drags a hand through his hair, looking away. ]

I ain't worth any of it.

[ Not for the first time, Elizabeth feels like a child. More than that, she feels more strongly than ever that she belongs to a world completely different than the one everyone else lives in. She's been alone for her entire life and things had not evened out since then. Their travels through Columbia had been explosive at best and her time on the Tranquility both with and without Booker hadn't seem to teach her anything about maturity. She'd traversed the halls alone once and suffered for it, almost did it twice, had gotten others involved and in danger on a whim.

Her cheeks burn and she continues to stare stubbornly downward, finding the hem of her skirt extremely interesting.

He has to know how important he is, she thinks; she's told him so dozens of times. My only friend. If it isn't that, then there has to be another reason that he's hesitant to spend time with her, that he politely reminds her not to get carried away time and time again.

He's politely telling you to let it go. She's heard more than once that it's a little strange for her to be spending so much time with a man his age, to be so fond of a near-stranger, and she's had no problem brushing off the notion of it being inappropriate. But, what if it isn't that? What if it's that they really have nothing in common, that only circumstances had brought them together and they were acquaintances at most? After all, could people really be considered friends if they shared no interests, nothing much at all?

The thought stings at her heart and wells up in her throat, but she forces it all down, tries to keep her voice even. ]

I'm sorry. [ Has she been doing this to other people, too? Mr. Pendleton, Miss Fortescue; had they been too kind to ask her to give them some space? ] I know that I don't always... um, know how to act... in certain situations. You know better than anyone that I'm still new to having so many people to spend time with, and I...

[ She's struck with the urge to flee, to go to her room or the Gardens and just be alone. To think about her life. But she has to stand her ground and finish this, doesn't want to leave on an awkward or, God forbid, melodramatic note. ]

I'll be more careful. Thoughtful about... everything.

[ This isn't helping. He pushes back the urge to yell, to break something, because she's still blaming herself and it's just that frustrating. She doesn't understand. He doesn't want this. He's making her miserable just talking to her.

Likewise, he doesn't reach out like a part of him wants to, take her hand or maybe even hold her close until that look on her face disappears and she's happy again. At one time, maybe...but no. What had he been thinking? They don't have anything in common except for a few horrible days together, and he'd proven again and again that she's better off without him, that even when he is there, he can'd protect her the way he'd like. All they do is confuse each other. Make each other unhappy, even if it's not on purpose. ]

You should be.

[ His voice is rough, the words dragged out as if against his own will. But Pendleton had told him how Elizabeth had run into the halls on her own and what had happened to her there. Had she learned that recklessness from him? Had he encouraged it by watching her back and rescuing her whenever she got into trouble? Maybe he'd instilled in her a false sense of immortality. But he can't always be there for her.

He straightens up slowly, heart heavy. Even now he has to resist the urge to apologize, to tell her that everything's all right and nothing has to change. But it wouldn't do her any favors, in the end. This is for the best. ]

You should be more careful. About where you go...and who you spend time with. [ He glares down at her, face a thunderous mask. ] I've told you before, the less you know about me, the better. Don't go thinking it's your responsibility to save me, Elizabeth. It can't be done.

[ Booker unhappy, Booker angry, Booker frustrated and peeved and grumpy... none of them are new. He's been a rain cloud ever since they first met; she had once thought she'd been able to see through it, that she knew what kind of person he really was at his core, but right now... it's hard to shake a growing fear. What she hears in his voice is chastisement, a tone exclusively used by one Zachary Comstock until this point.

"He will abandon you, my sweet Elizabeth. Once he has what he wants--"

Was this really it? They'd escaped Columbia; she has her freedom and he's clear of whatever debt tied them together. Could the Prophet really have gotten this one, crucial thing right? ]

I never considered it a responsibility; I tried to help you because you were-- because I thought we were friends. [ She doesn't--can't--tell him that he sounds like Comstock, disturbing as it is. The way he's looking at her, though... Elizabeth gets to her feet, pushing away from the counter, standing stiffly and watching him with a deep frown, one barely masking a growing sadness and distress. ] I realize we barely know each other; I was the first to say it, if I remember correctly.

[ She would never have said it in any other situation. Without a soul, whatever feelings of morality and tact she has now hadn't existed. ]

... But you did save my life, job or no, and that meant-- it still means a lot to me. That's why.

[ It may not be much in the ways of a foundation, but it isn't nothing. Even Elizabeth, whose memories are outstripped by Booker's, doesn't know the extent of their time together. ]

[ He doesn't know what she's thinking, or how frightened he's making her. How could he? But he would have objected to the suggestion that he's abandoning her. He's helping her. Saving her from himself.

Making her decisions for her, just as Comstock had - but that doesn't occur to him, either. ]

You have other friends now.

[ He watches as she gets to her feet, backing away. She's upset, clearly, but that's to be expected. She'll get over it, he tells himself. She'll go and cry to her friends (her real friends, the sort of people equipped to have friends) and they'll tell her how awful he is, how she's better off without him, and they'll be right.

She'll get over it. She'll be fine.

He shakes her head. He'd saved her, yes, many times...but lately, it seems like all he's done is let her down. And it is important, how it had started. When he'd first crashed into her tower, the only thing he'd been interested in had been escorting her from one cage to another. She'd been right to attack him then, and wrong to put her trust in him so quickly. ]

Anyone would have done the same, Elizabeth. It doesn't - [ His voice cracks. Even Booker doesn't believe this part. ] It doesn't mean anything.

Just because I have other friends doesn't mean we can't be friends! [ She's frustrated now, beginning to pace, throwing her hands up in the air with a loud huff. ] Being close with people isn't some kind of limited club. You can add more without taking others out; it just doesn't work that way.

[ He should know better than her, she thinks! ... Then again, maybe not. Maybe they're two people cut off from the rest of the world for differing reasons, but isolated unto themselves nonetheless.

She looks to him again, frowning slightly. ]

Didn't you have friends when you were a child? Before the war, or after it?

[ It isn't snappy or cruel, as Elizabeth without her soul might have asked. It's almost pleading, in a way: please tell me that you've had a friend before, Booker. ]

[ Booker is silent. The question isn't as easy as it seems, and he can't give her the answer he knows she's looking for: of course I had friends.

He had, of course, when he was a very young child. When they had all been too young to know better. But things had changed when he'd gotten older. When he - and the other boys - had realized that he was...different.

It had been a lonely childhood, and he hadn't been any better at fitting in once he'd joined the Army. Loneliness had given way to defensiveness, rage...and, once he'd joined the Pinkertons, outright hostility to nearly everyone he'd met, no matter what side they were on. It was easier to keep everyone at arm's length, to be the big scary man and tell himself he wanted it that way, than to take a chance on letting someone in.

Elizabeth had been a rare exception. She'd been naive and innocent enough not to be any kind of a threat, and through circumstances alone, they'd become close - friends, even - almost before Booker realized what was happening.

The other exception, of course, had been Annabelle. And look what happened to her.

He looks away, his expression hard. ]

You don't need me anymore, Elizabeth. You said I was...your only friend, the first one you'd had. But you have other choices now.

[ Better choices. ]

You were my only friend and you still are the first I had. Making friends, getting close to others; it isn't a matter of choices. It isn't... picking out an outfit, deciding on something to use for yourself. This is about people, Booker. Not objects. You can have more than one and you're meant to look out for them, to keep them close. Not to find newer ones and abandon the old.

[ She looks at him now with a subtle sadness; there's clearly a lot going on behind that ambiguous mask that he's trying to keep from her. From himself, even. ]

Don't make this into something painful. No matter what you said, or I said; it doesn't need to be like that.

It's already like that.

[ He leans in close, maybe trying to scare her just a little. Why can't she see what he really is? She knows more about him than anyone else here. She of all people should understand. ]

I didn't even know what those men in New York planned to do with you, did you know that? I didn't ask questions. I just agreed to the deal. I didn't care what happened to you after that.

Does that really sound like the kind of person you want to be friends with?

[ He doesn't scare her. He had when they'd first met out of pure shock, he had when he'd begun his display of... proficiency in killing. But since then, he'd been the protector, not a threat. She doesn't believe for a second that he'll hurt her.

Not physically, anyway.

It isn't news that surprises her; Elizabeth hadn't gotten the impression that her "partner" had known much about the job aside from "bring us the girl and wipe away the debt." He'd been open about his lack of knowledge, hadn't seemed bothered by that, but... more than that, she'd never gotten a nefarious vibe from him. Hard-headed, persistent, violent, but not scheming. ]

You did those things, Booker, that was ages ago. I know what you meant for me originally, but things have changed! I know you would never trade me away now.

[ Another person, someone with less faith in people, might have added a tentative "right?" at the end. Elizabeth doesn't. He pushes her away and she pulls back, calm and confident in her assertions. ]

[ Ages ago? He barks out a laugh, sharp and bitter. ]

It hasn't been that long.

[ A few months, even considering their time on the ship - and even with Elizabeth's unflagging efforts to drag him out of his room and show him around, they haven't been spending nearly the same amount of time together here as they had during their short time in Columbia. Is that what she's basing this on? Those few short days?

She's right, of course. He'd never hand her over to anyone now; he'd fight to keep her out of the grasp of those who might hurt her. He had done just that.

Fought...and failed. There are things she doesn't know, because they had never happened to her. He looks down, staring at nothing. ]

None of that changes anything.

[ It hadn't erased what he'd done, all the lives that he'd took. Nothing can erase that. ]

You should be running away from me as fast as you can go.

But I'm not! [ It's louder, more frustrated, and she curls her hands into fists at her sides. ] I'm not running, I'm obviously doing the opposite. I'm not afraid of you and you won't be able to convince me that you're more of a bad influence than you are good. Yes, you've acted with questionable judgment more than once and I can recognize that, but you've also taught me to be more careful. You taught me that sometimes you have to make hard choices.

[ The extent of which she still doesn't realize; for now, she's still never taken a life. ]

I know so much more now because of you. And if you hadn't been there after that monster attacked me, I would be dead.

[ It's true, isn't it? She'd put them in danger and he'd gotten them out of it. She'll admit to it freely if it'll get him to concede with her point. ]

If I hadn't been with you, I would have died. Isn't that enough?

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FINISH YOUR DINNER YOUNG LADY

MAKE HER

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