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Elizabeth wished she could enjoy the Enterprise the way Booker did. He behaved like none of it was real and she was so jealous of his light-hearted nature. Everything about the ship reminded her of some past tragedy. The ship itself was too much like Rapture with its enclosed spaces and lack of proper breezes. That, she thought, was why she was having nightmares again. There wasn't much difference between the bottom of the ocean and the middle of space, when it came down to it.

Despite being made of her memories the dreams were never quite the same each time. Sometimes her dream was of Columbia and her 'father's hands laying on her shoulders in prayer after a spinal tap before it merged and flowed into Rapture and Atlas. Sometimes it was just that moment in her life replayed in perfect clarity. It always ended the same way. One final tap of the hammer and she would be lobotomized. She was one little motion away from not caring, from laying down her burdens.

The terror came from how seductive that still was to her. The depression was easing, but it ebbed and flowed, coming and going. Right now she couldn't push her demons away. Her life was objectively good and it terrified her to think of losing it all again. Despite herself she saw Killian's appearance as a bad omen. The thought of losing Anne or Booker was enough to keep her up at night without her bad memories interfering.

She sat in the bar in her pajamas and bathrobe. A glass of wine sat on the table in front of her, next to a sketchpad and charcoals. Both were untouched. She apparently preferred to stare at them and brood. She looked as upset as she felt: her jaw was slack, her eyes unfocused, brow furrowed somewhat at her thoughts and memories.

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She roused and looked up at Booker, sighing softly. "How's Anne? Where is she? Is she safe?" Anytime she was separated from her daughter she worried. Anything could happen to a small child in a strange place. She sipped her wine, finally. It didn't taste that great to her, but it gave her something to do with her hands.

"Anne is fine. She's with Thor, right now. He's someone I knew and trust from Misena. I don't know if you know him...?"

He raised an eyebrow. "He's a good man, and can be trusted." Few fit the bill, but this one, a friend of the Emma's, seemed to be. Even if he came from before that place, he still was a familiar face.

"How are you?"

Elizabeth had a moment of panic until she remembered what he was like on the Island. It wasn't ideal for Boker to have given the child up, but at least he'd chosen well. "Just be careful who you give her to." It was the primary thing Elizabeth feared. Seeing her daughter turned into a little sister or something analogous would destro her.

Booker's question drew a shrug out of her and no further comment. He was a detective, let him figure it out.

"I know, Elizabeth." He poked her lightly. "I promise, I am paying attention." He gently hugged her, then.

"What's going on, then?"

"I had another nightmare. No splicers this time, at least. Just Atlas." She rubbed her face, checking to make sure there was nothing in her right eye. It was so hard to deal with how little sleep she was getting sometimes. "Anne has been fussy, too. I almost wonder if she's teething. Mabe I should get her seen by a doctor."

"Ahhh. Ouch." Booker nodded, thinking about that. "I can imagine how hard it can be to remember that." He sometimes had nightmares of drowning, twice over.

He spoke softly, telling her of those dreams, before he nodded again.

"It wouldn't hurt. The doctors here are strictly the non-experimenting kind, as far as I can tell."

Elizabeth listened, her heart burning in her chest when she realized she was the reason her father had nightmares. She looked down, then covered her face before she began to cry.

A horrible thing like her didn't deserve a good family. She was an anomaly, a disease, a freak. She ought to be destroyed.

Edited 2015-04-27 00:47 (UTC)

"Elizabeth? It's going to be okay." Booker sighed internally as he gathered her in and held her as she cried. "I'm okay, and you're going to be okay."

"I drowned you. I've killed so many people, Booker. Maybe I deserved to be hurt." She spoke with great emotion, her face buried in his chest.

"No, you helped me drown myself, after I came up with the idea, and I insisted on it. You didn't deserve to be hurt. You are far better than you are willing to give yourself credit for." He prodded her.

Elizabeth sighed. They'd had this discussion before, even if Booker didn't remember. "I wish I believed that all the time. I hurt so many people. I did exactly what Comstock said I would, just not where he said it would happen."

Booker gently hugged her. "I know. And maybe, but I think you put too much on yourself." He sighed.

"You have to find a way to move forward and to accept what was done, learn from it, and not get mired in it."

"Normally I'm fine. I'm a lot better than I was." Elizabeth sighed and rubbed her face. "I'm just exhausted and being confined like this reminds me too much of Rapture. If we were on the ground and there was sunshine and outdoors I think I'd be better off."

Booker nodded, and smiled a little, worried about her, but okay with letting it go, for now. People were confusing.

"Perhaps at the next planet we can go ashore."

Elizabeth squeezed Booker back and pulled gently away. "I hope it's soon. We're not going to get enough vitamin D stuck inside here."

Booker chuckled. "I think they take care of that somehow, Either in the lights or in the food. I don't know which. Wouldn't make sense otherwise." Booker nodded.

Elizabeth nodded as well, sighing softly. "Since we're baby free would you like to see the holo-program I'm working on? It might be more stimulating than the charcoals." She stood, adjusting her pajamas to be more modest.

"I would. What have you been doing?" He rose and eyed her, smiling. She did like to wear all sorts of interesting things, that was for sure.

And he didn't mind. He had an interesting daughter.

Elizabeth grabbed Booker's hand and led the way to the holodecks. "I was working on worlds based on paintings. The most recent one is a Degas world with fluffy ballerinas and soft lines. It has been a fun challenge. I think next I'll do a Seurat world to play with pointillism."

She chattered about the challenges she'd had making the dancers soft enough without losing reality until they arrived at the holodeck. Talking about her art project seemed to ease her. Over time her shoulders relaxed and her smile became natural again.

Booker followed, listening, grinning a little. He liked seeing her so enthusiastic about something. And he had no clue exactly what she was talking about, but he totally was willing to play along if it made her happy. She deserved some happy,and he would go through a thousand Columbias for the sight of her smiling in enthusiasm.

"Lead on. What drew you to the idea?" Small talk he didn't know, but talking to politicians and officers had taught him how to say encouraging words even when eh had no clue what was going on.

"I thought about what modern art must look like and decided that holotechnology was probably a big influence. After that it was a pretty obvious leap to creating holo-programs based on old paintings. I might do one of my own work next."

She opened the door and went to the middle of the room before requesting the Degas program. Soon the room was a pastel dance class full of preteens in frothy tutus. She smiled softly as they began to line up and go through the practices as the instructor led. "I programmed it not to acknowledge us. I'm not sure what kind of interactions to program in."

Booker raised an eyebrow as he looked around. "Did you make this for appreciation, or just to try your hand at making one?" Booker had known a few artists, and he remembered some of their rants, usually while drunk, about why they arted, or made art, or did art, or whatever you called it.

"Might be best as a shopwpiece."

"Both? I just wanted a light, airy world where little girls are safe and sound." She sighed softly and called for an end to the program. "I'm afraid I won't be able to actually take Anne to a world like that."

"You might, someday." Booker smiled as he gently took one of her hands. "Just give it time, Elizabeth. Or find a way to make it happen." He squeezed her hand, then let go. "I know it's a hard thing to do, but it is a good thing to do, too."

Booker had been forced to learn that the hard way, some time ago. Sometimes, you either seized the bit yourself and made it so, or you just had to wait.

"I'm trying," Elizabeth snapped. "Everything I do is to make sure Anne's life is better than mine. Every breath I take, every choice I consider, they're all for her. If I could do anything to make her life better I'd do it without a second thought. Morality comes after her."