One Over Zero

Part 1

It was dark all over.

Why was it still so painful? They always said one didn't feel anything when they died. Yet her head still ached, every pulse sending a wave of dolor down her neck. When would it end? When would everything end?

There was nothing else she'd wished for. Freedom. Deliverance. Mercy. A chance to see him again, maybe? Comstock had erased every single chance of her ever believing in the afterlife, but a tiny part of her still hoped for Booker to be there.

Sally was safe. The man in the lighthouse would come. He would free the little sisters from Rapture, from Atlas. There was nothing more for her. She could go in peace.

Her eyes were open, but she didn't see. The sounds around her dimmed out little by little, fading away into a gaping pit of nothingness. She could feel the bubbling water across the glass pressed against her back, but not much else.

She sensed herself starting to go. Finally. Her breaths were slow, hacked, short. The weight of Sally's little hands waned. The sound of La Vie En Rose disappeared. The pressure of the corset under her shirt vanished. The pain went away.

Back on her tower, she'd read that for a peaceful parting, the last thoughts should be of home. Wherever that was.

Home? What was home to her? Not Rapture. Definitely not Columbia. Paris? She'd spent less than half a day in that city, all in her mind.

She flew back to the streets of the ramshackle pile of dirt and misery that was Shantytown. A guitar, a chair, some words, and her voice. That was her most cherished memory?

She could do worse than that.

Her lungs filled out for one last time in Rapture, in front of a little sister. A few fleeting instants later, Elizabeth Comstock died.


Her hands were still there. How could she see them? She stretched her fingers before her, then passed them through her hair in a quick movement. Every strand grinded against her skin. She could still feel them. Had nothing changed?

Everything around her was of a blinding white. She took a step forward. The click of her heel seemed to trigger something. The echo banged for a while, and a wooden door slowly formed before her. Simple and sturdy, with a single inscription on it.

Booker DeWitt Investigations

How confused she was was all she could think about. Why was she there? Had Comstock been right all along? She tried to circle around it but quickly realized the door rotated so that it always faced her.

She threw a quick look around her. There was nowhere else to go. After a resigned sigh, her hand came to meet the handle. She pushed it open carefully.

The room was almost empty, the only chair dusty. But this was indeed his room. His office. It looked abandoned. He was nowhere to be seen, however.

The sounds of a bustling street snapped her out of her torpor. Behind her was a city full of people striding through their lives. She closed the door and walked towards the room's center.

She was in New York. And that only meant one thing. There was still another Comstock to find.

Her head hung low. Would there never be an end to her struggle? Didn't she deserve to rest? Would he always haunt her? That man had taken everything from her. Her childhood, her freedom, her sanity, her father, her best friend. Her life, and now even her death.

She pressed a hand to her forehead and breathed shakily. She was tired, but it seemed her work was not finished.

She suddenly realized there was something on her neck. A new weight that hadn't been there a moment before. Her hand came to it, her fingers meeting the cold metal of a bumpy necklace. She took it off in a hurry and examined it. The cage? Where had it come from?

She turned it around a few times with wide eyes, recognizing every notch on the exterior golden belt, that scratch on the cage's third bar, the slight indent on the edge of its base. One thing was new, however. The small discolored circle under the cage hadn't been there last time she saw it.

She ran her thumb over it, and almost panicked when the trail of grey followed her finger's path. Another smaller discolored patch appeared on the right, then another, and another. They were drops of water. She lifted her hand to her cheek. Tears? When had she started crying?

She couldn't cry. Not now. Not after everything. She didn't cry when he let her drown him. She didn't cry when Comstock touched her again. She didn't cry when she understood she'd have to die to save Sally.

She wiped the tears away with rapid swipes of her left wrist. She allowed herself to smile at the necklace and held it to her heart for a few seconds.

She knew she'd have to get rid of it. But keeping it for a bit would do no harm.

"I miss you," she said to no one in particular. Or rather, to someone who couldn't hear her.

The door opened abruptly. Elizabeth jumped, her hand flying to the now-empty holster on the side of her thigh.

"We're picking it up and going home. And I told you, I'm not buying anything that breaks after—" The man stopped when he caught sight of her standing just before his desk.

Him.

Elizabeth stumbled back and reached for something, anything. There was nothing on the desk she could throw at him. And even if there was, she couldn't let him know she knew who he was.

Comstock was holding a bag above his shoulder, still stuck at his office's entrance. He stared at her for a few moments before curving the corners of his mouth into a smile. "You're here."

Elizabeth was shocked into silence. He looked like he had been expecting her.

"Don't freak out," he said. She wasn't going to. She was going to rip his guts out. He gently let the bag down on the floor and lifted his hands. Her blank staring was slowly being replaced by vigorous shaking. Her fists boiled and itched to hit him. "And you're freaking out. Calm down. I know what you're thinking. I'm not him."

Elizabeth wasn't going to believe a word. He was a monster. He had lied to her for nearly twenty years. Imprisoned her. What was one more lie to him?

"You really hope to make me buy that? How cute."

Comstock smiled again. A gentle, soft smile that looked quite unnatural on him and unnerved her to no end. He stepped to the side.

A headful of dark hair held together by a blue ribbon appeared. The little silhouette emerged slowly from behind his leg. The girl was seven or eight, at most. Wide blue eyes, rosined cheeks, a shy glance. Her white and blue dress shimmered with each of her little steps.

Elizabeth could only stare in astonishment. Was she…?

"Who's this, daddy?" the girl asked.

"Anna, this is Elizabeth."

She was.

"Hello, Miss Elizabeth," Anna greeted with a quick wave before cowering behind Comstock. Or was it really Comstock? He had Booker's daughter with him? How could he?

"Yeah, I kept her this time around," he said. "After the baptism, I woke up here. She was still a baby. That Lutece guy came for her. He asked the same thing. 'Bring us the girl and wipe away the debt.' He wanted to buy her from me." He ruffled Anna's hair with a proud smile, the little girl giggling under his playful touch. "Something happened at that moment. I remembered things I had never seen. Steps I had never walked. A daughter I had never met. I remembered you. I refused his proposal and kindly told him to... fuck off." He seemed to realize Anna was still there and mouthed the last two words.

"What did you say?" the latter asked as she perched on her toes to see if she could get him to repeat himself.

Elizabeth let her knuckles untighten and fall to her sides. She stayed there, motionless.

"I'm not your Booker. Not exactly," he continued. "But I met an Elizabeth. I helped her out of Columbia. We went through the lighthouse doors. I still don't fully get what happened down there, but she… got rid of me. The bad side of me."

Could it really…?

"I don't know how much time has passed for you since that. You look different. A bit taller. Definitely older. It's been south short of eight years for me."

Was it even possible…?

"...but I don't why, I feel like you've been through a lot more, haven't you? I…I know it's my fault. I know words will never excuse what I did."

The man in front of her…

"I just want you to know I'm sorry. I shouldn't have—"

Elizabeth walked closer and he looked like he held his breath. She stopped a few inches away from him and lifted his right hand for her to see.

"Ah, I see you picked the cage," he said, the slight tremor of his words betraying his nervousness. "You chose the bird when you were with me."

On the back were carved two letters. A.D. Those two she had been expecting. The part she was interested in was the slash that went between them. She flipped the hand over. The gash was still there. Scarred and healed, but noticeable nonetheless. She traced it with her finger.

"Got lucky with that. I kept the piece of cloth you used to wrap it. Well damn, that sounded a whole lot creepier than I inten—"

His words died out when Elizabeth launched herself and enveloped him into a crushing hug. She held onto him for dear life and buried her head into his neck, not bothering to repress her now abundant tears and sobs. Booker was surprised at first if she was to trust the gasp that he uttered. He eventually brought his arms around her and leaned into her embrace.

They stayed locked onto one another for a while. There was so much she had to tell him. So much she wanted him to know. How alone she'd felt without him. But for the time, Elizabeth simply relished the fact that she could touch him and talk to him again.

"I missed you," she finally said, completely unable to contain the trembling in her voice.

"Missed you too, kiddo."

She pulled away after a few moments and he tenderly wiped the trails of saline water away from her cheeks while she smiled as brightly as she could.

The young Anna watched the scene unfold with pursed lips and a pout, her hands joined behind her back as her eyes darted between the two.

"Is she my mom?" she asked as they separated fully.

Elizabeth's face flushed with embarrassment, but Booker simply laughed her question's awkwardness away. "No, sweetie. This is more…your big sister."

Anna's eyes grew bigger than plates. "For realsies?!"

Booker crossed Elizabeth's hesitant gaze and shrugged. "Kinda."

"Woaah," the child mused, her eyes twinkling with wonder. "I have a big sis'!"

Elizabeth glared in his direction but couldn't help but feel her heart melt when the little girl came to her and glanced up in joy. She slightly bent over and extended a hand. "Hello, Anna. It's nice to meet you."

Anna eyed the offered handshake with a curious glint, turned to Booker for approval, and eagerly brought her hand to Elizabeth's as soon as he nodded.

Ignoring the nagging feeling of weirdness at the idea she was shaking the hand of her own twelve-years-younger self–quantum physics—Elizabeth smiled warmly at the excited girl.

"When did you get here?" Booker asked once they were done. "This is hardly a place of fashion right now."

"Just about now actually. I…I have a lot of explaining to do."

"Yeah, but not right now. You're hungry."

She was indeed famished now that he mentioned it, but that strangely astute observation begged a question. "How do you know that?"

"Anna does that little thing with her fingers too when she's starving," he amusedly explained as he mimicked a little twitchy jab with his left pinky. "There's a marketplace just around the corner. I'll go grab a few apples. It'll be just a minute."

Booker scurried out, leaving Elizabeth and Anna in the abandoned office. The older version leaned on the desk, trying to process what was happening while the youngest sat on the floor, her eyes not leaving her 'big sister'.

Elizabeth quickly noticed the insistent staring. "Do I look strange?"

"Nuh-uh. I never saw clothes like these. You're very pretty."

Elizabeth chuckled at the compliment. "Thank you. It's true they're not really timely. We're in 1902, right?" Anna nodded. She stayed silent for a second. "Do you know why this place is abandoned?"

"Daddy sold it. He said he needed just a bit of money to not have problems anymore. So now we don't have problems anymore!"

Elizabeth guessed 'problems' was the way Booker had phrased 'crippling debt and alcoholism' to his daughter. "He sold it? How is he going to work, then?"

"He doesn't come here anymore. He's a policeman! He's earning money so that we can travel someday!"

"Travel? Really?" Elizabeth said, a smile already growing on her face. "You want to go to Paris?"

Anna cocked her head to the side. "You too? He said that first. I wanted to go to Egypt, but the trip would take like forever, and I don't like boats. I always puke. Paris looks fun too. The pictures in the books are pretty."

How she hadn't bothered to take a breath throughout the entire sentence amazed Elizabeth. Not everything had to be the exact same, she guessed. Constants and variables.

"It is very pretty. Though I hope you'll be able to see both and many more."

"Yeah! I want to see eeeeeeeverything," Anna asserted with a wide grin as she lifted her hands above her head.

"Do you want to go to Columbia, too?" She had asked it unconsciously, but her question was a good way to get a feel of how Columbia was perceived in this world. The Comstock of this reality would also have to be there.

"Columbia?" Anna demanded with clear confusion, her eyebrow arched and her arms crossed.

"Yes. The flying city."

"Oh, daddy talked about a flying city once. He said it was…in the… in the Specific now," she replied, clearly proud of herself for remembering such a piece of information.

"The…The Specific?"

"Yeah. Underwater."

"The Spec—Oh! The Pacific? You mean the Pacific Ocean?"

Another nod answered her. Elizabeth understood quickly that Columbia was no more. Just like Rapture eventually would in the world she'd last left, the flying beacon of American exceptionalism was now buried in shambles under countless meters-cube of seawater.


Part I of a little post-ending fic I had in mind as a headcanon of Elizabeth's story's ending. Had to get this out after a friend of mine completed the game and we started gushing about how awesome it was together.

He is writing his own story, and I can't recommend it enough. Check AzimuthZero's profile if you're interested. It should be posted not long after this one.

In mathematics, One Over Zero is technically undefined, but its numerical value is Infinite whenever you try to compute it *wink wink*.

Part II should not come long after this one, so stay tuned!