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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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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."

Booker arched an eyebrow, and he almost snarled back, but then he blew out a long breath, and he shook his head. "Okay."

He eyed her, looking to see what she looked like, and if she was about to bite his head off again.

"Have you worked on other ones yet, or do you have ideas of what to do next?"

The change of subject was welcome. Elizabeth counted to ten with her eyes clenched tightly closed to get her temper back under control. "I made a world I knew well first."

She cleared her throat and called for Rapture. The program started up, leaving Booker and Elizabeth in a demolished toy store. Elizabeth's eyes remained tightly closed.

Edited 2015-05-18 02:34 (UTC)

Booker winced at the sight of it, having seen it on their trip, then in the video game, and he shook his head. "Computer, End program!"

He hated that place. "Why... I... that was..." He shivered, remembering those days and those events. It hung over him like a pall, still.

Elizabeth was crying again. The smells and everything were the same, she couldn't block it out. "That's all I painted in Neptune. Just images of Rapture and Atlas. I can't sleep because of what I did and what was done to me. I know that in some universes it was worth it, but I know in some universes I led the city and its inhabitants to the slaughter."

Booker pulled her in and held her close. "I'm sorry." He thought for a moment, then spoke louder. "Computer; Paris, 1905." And around them, a merry Parisian view faded into view, different from what they had known, but still, Paris.

"Maybe, but you can't claim responsibility for the acts of all of your alternate selves. They were, demonstrably, different people."

"It wasn't me. There was only one of me doing that, as far as I know. It was Jack. He had the chance to be a savior or a monster. If there are choices, then there are different universes. Sometimes he was the little sisters' salvation and sometimes he murdered them in cold blood." She shivered, looking around blearily at Paris. "I made a fake Paris. It was okay. I still haven't seen the real thing."

"This one is, apparently, as close to real as photos and real people could make it. Care to wander some?" He had only been to the holodeck a few times, but he had, reasonably curious, punched up Paris and New York, and asked the computer about both.

Elizabeth shook her head. "Not right now. I feel tired and heavy." She grabbed Booker's hand, leaning her shoulder on him. "Thanks for coming to keep me company."

He encircled her shoulders with one arm, gladly supporting her some. He was glad to have chances to help her and be there for her, always.

"Any time. You can call on me anytime." Maybe he had not been a good father, but he could at least be a good friend. Maybe.

"Perhaps we should wander to eat a bite back in the rooms?"

"That sounds nice," Elizabeth said, wrapping her arm around his waist. "Maybe some coffee too. Anne is going to be a terror tomorrow if she doesn't sleep for Thor."

"Well, we can go, check in on them, and maybe relax. See what sort of evening is coming at us." And then, once they were abed, he would likely prowl around, as was his want.

It could get pretty darned boring around the ship.

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