I remember saying last time that this chapter would be their last one in Rapture; well, I lied. This chapter got away from the original plan and turned into a fluff chapter, and frankly, I'm happy with the result. A good story can't be rushed, and characterization, especially for characters that aren't your own, is very important. That's especially true if one of the characters only had one line at the beginning of his story.

It's been awhile since my last chapter. Things got busy and I got sidetracked with another potential project. Seeing as I already have two fanfics to finish (and possible sequels for them), I'm putting that one on the back-burner, maybe permanently.

WOULD YOU KINDLY leave a review or PM me with your thoughts and opinions? Enjoy!


Chapter 11: Commiserations

Jack stretched and sighed, keeping his eyes on the front of the store. Standing guard while Elizabeth tried on new clothes was boring, but that was a good thing. It wouldn't be fun to be caught with half of his weapons, now her weapons, in the back room she was using as a changing room and not out here to back him up. Not unless Elizabeth was willing to charge out of the room no matter her state of dress to help him out.

A procession of images began in Jack's mind depicting that very scenario, each one featuring slightly more and more skin. Jack shook his head hard and smacked himself before it progressed too far. It wasn't right to imagine Elizabeth like that.

"Ow." Unfortunately, he was still getting used to his spliced-up strength. It was easy to throw everything he had into swinging a wrench at a splicer's head; dialing it back for ordinary things, that was a bit harder. At least he was successful when it came to not hurting other people. He had a lot to learn when it came to not damaging himself.

"Jack, are you alright?" Elizabeth's concerned voice floated out from behind the closed door. "Is anything wrong?"

Yeah, Jack thought, I'm perving on you like a creep.

Out loud, he answered, "Everything's alright, Elizabeth. I'll holler if someone, or something, turns up."

He heard Elizabeth's hum of acknowledgement and then the rustling of clothes. Sighing again, Jack fumbled around in his bag for a pack of cigarettes. Finding his Nicotime, he stuck one into his mouth and snapped his fingers to produce a flame. He kept the flame dancing on his fingertips, considering it as he puffed the cigarette and sent clouds of blue smoke into the air.

After he and Elizabeth had retraced their steps out of Bathyspheres Deluxe, he had radioed Tenenbaum to tell her that they were alright and to also ask her about this "Doc Lamb" character. From what Tenenbaum had told them, "Dr. Sofia Lamb" had been a psychiatrist who had challenged Ryan's viewpoint and amassed a following of her own. After it was "discovered" that she was a closet pinko, she and her closest followers were arrested and taken to some "secret" prison in the ocean trench on Rapture's outermost ends.

Judging from the splicer gang, their ferocity and loyalty, and the blue butterflies on their masks, Dr. Lamb had changed her career from psychiatrist to "cult leader". Jack rolled his eyes; so not only had his dad let nutcases like Steinman and Cohen, and megalomaniacs like Fontaine, into his city, but he had also let in a charismatic collectivist? Honestly, he had been just begging for something like this to happen. The best of humanity, and the worst of it, all trapped in a reverse-fish bowl on the bottom of the ocean. No wonder things had gone so wrong, so fast.

And this Dr. Lamb. It was obvious what she wanted: Rapture. Whatever it was that she believed in, that she preached to her followers, her goals and means were little better than Ryan or Fontaine's. "Just another set of fanatics with another set of books," Elizabeth had said on the way to the Ladieswear store on the Pavilion's store floor with a disgusted and dismissive tone.

Jack couldn't understand what Dr. Lamb saw in Rapture. Fontaine had been right when he'd said that Rapture was the "puke stain of Ryan's busted dream". There had been things in Rapture that were worth saving, the Little Sisters and Elizabeth for example, but he was right about Rapture. It was a living, breathing hellscape of a city, and anyone who wanted it had something wrong with them.

As for how to escape, that was a tricky one. They could camp out on the lighthouse above and hope for someone to pass by and hitchhike (heh, hike). If asked, they could just say that they were survivors from the plane crash and no, they had no idea what a lighthouse was doing all the way out there. However, there hadn't been thirty-nine children on board the plane when it had taken off (at least he hoped not), so anyone with access to the plane's manifest would be sure to ask questions. And questions that could lead to someone else finding Rapture was something that he wanted to avoid.

Even if he managed to get back to the States, there was the issue of the plane's manifest again. He'd have to be quiet in returning to Kansas; any major news coverage of a survivor from the plane crash would lead to questions. If Jack Wynand simply and quietly returned home, there was a chance that no one in a position of power would ever notice. His parents' farm was isolated and they didn't really know anyone from the surrounding farms or from the nearest town.

A bunch of realizations washed over him as the words he had used fully registered: Kansas, where the population was sparse and rural. Home and parents, when in reality it had been his cage and they actors and his caretakers. How much had they known about his true purpose? Had they figured him for some kind of mental case, or had they known about Rapture and the role he had been made to play? The isolation from the neighbors and from town, that had been to make sure that no one else would come across him and possibly discover the truth.

Ever since the revelation of the truth to him, he had been too busy to consider everything that it meant. Now though, he was realizing what it meant. It meant that all the nice, pleasant memories that he had of Kansas had been fake, and that everything else: Growing up in Rapture with Tenenbaum and Suchong as his "parents" and Fontaine as an "uncle" (or second father) - leaving home to exist in some dream state - coming back to see what had become of his childhood home - learning that his real father and mother had been Andrew Ryan and Jasmine Jolene, that was real.

His heart was pounding and his head with it. He was faintly aware of the cigarette falling from his lips as he leaned forward, his hands attempting to squeeze his brains out of his head. He couldn't tell if the pressure was making it worse, or if it wasn't working and the pounding in his head was getting more intense by itself. Half of him didn't care, while the other half was just screaming.

The horror, the ugliness, and the death, that was what was real. It was ALL that was real.

"Jack? Jack, are you alright? Jack? Jack, say something to me! Jack!"

The worried, feminine voice gave him something to fixate on other than the memories and the pounding. The much softer pressure of a smaller hand became apparent on the back of his neck, and he was aware of a presence to the side of him. Somehow, all three, the voice, the hand, and the presence were enough to halt the pounding, both in frequency and in strength. As the voice continued to speak and the hand rubbed circles, it began to subside.

Jack slowly became aware of his surroundings. The woman's face came into focus, and Jack remembered that it was Elizabeth, who he was supposed to be guarding from a surprise splicer attack. And here he was, having some kind of panic attack, forcing her to help him instead. Some kind of protector he was.

"I'm alright, Elizabeth," he said, finally managing to straighten up. He wiped the sweat off his forehead, breathing hard. "It, it just finally sank in."

"What did?" Elizabeth asked, her brow furrowed. Her expression grew dark. "If this is because of what the Luteces showed us in the Silver Finn, I'm going to have such words with them-"

"It wasn't that," Jack interrupted. "That time, I was in shock. This time, it finally sank in. It didn't before because I was busy. Maybe I was busy on purpose so that I wouldn't think about it because subconsciously I knew it, but I didn't want to consciously think about it."

"Think about what?" Elizabeth asked, confusion on her face.

"It was all a lie," Jack replied. "All of the nice memories of me growing up on a Kansas farm with loving parents, a big fat lie. Instead, I'm a science experiment. I was taught by electrodes and made to grow with pheromones. I was nineteen years old when I should have been one. I spent my second year learning how to hack, shoot, and fight. I spent the last two years being cared for by two strangers who probably thought I was some mental case."

His voice was growing higher and more hysterical with each sentence but he couldn't stop. It was like a dam had broken in his head and mouth and he couldn't close it back up.

"I caused a plane to crash," he continued, "killing everyone onboard. I have killed dozens of people within the last few days, and have been killed, only to be brought back and thrown back into the fray. I learned that Mom and Dad were just fakes to look after me on the surface. The closest thing I ever had to actual parents were Suchong and Tenenbaum, and that was before Tenenbaum decided to be a decent human being. Fontaine said that I was the closest thing that he ever had to a son, and that becomes worse when you take into account that he and Tenenbaum were a thing for a bit.

"And as for my actual parents, Andrew Ryan, my father, was both a tyrant and a hypocrite, and I smashed his head in with his own golf club at his command. And my mother, Jasmine Jolene, was a stripper whose poster I perved out on because I didn't know she was my mother. And now, it turns out that for every decision that I've made, the ones that I was actually making and not whoever was pulling my strings, there's a world where I made the opposite decision and killed a little girl for the ADAM slug in her stomach, therefore spitting in the face of everything you did to save Sally and the other Little Sisters."

He was breathing hard now that he had finally got it all out. He kept his gaze on the floor, not wanting to see how Elizabeth would react to any of that. She was quiet for a long moment before she finally said something.

"I did both things with my father."

"What?" Jack asked, looking up at her quizzically. Elizabeth was looking at the ground now in embarrassment.

"Before I knew he was my father, I...noticed how attractive he was," she managed to get out, her cheeks turning red. "To be fair, he was a handsome man, and the first living one that I had ever seen or met, so it's not surprising that I did. One of the constants is that he and I never did anything...carnal in nature, so thank God for that one.

"And I killed him," she added. "So I did both with him. Killing and perving, that is."

"Oh," Jack said lamely. What else could one say when looking at either of their stories? Sure, there were some amazing parts, but when one got down to the bones of it, their histories were downright awful. In fact, he frowned as the thought occurred to him, there seemed to be some similarities between them.

"Elizabeth, what are we?" he asked.

"Orphans, killers, pawns, saviors, victims," she listed off. "There certainly isn't one word that can describe us in our entirety."

"No, I mean-" Jack took a moment to gather his thoughts before explaining.

"You said that there are constants and variables, things that make the worlds similar and different." At Elizabeth's nod, he continued. "Our stories have so many similarities, but so many differences. Are we constants or variables?"

Now it was Elizabeth's turn to think. Jack couldn't help but find her contemplative face cute.

"I think," she began slowly, "that we are not counterparts to each other. Our stories are very similar to each other, yes, while your role was essentially the same as the one that Booker played in Columbia. And as far as I can tell, there's no analogue for me in this universe.

"There are more constants than just a City, a Lighthouse, and a Man. There's the Opposition to the Man: Daisy Fitzroy and Frank Fontaine. And there's the Rogue who fights both the Man and the Opposition: That'd be Booker and you. Rapture doesn't appear to have a counterpart to my role in Columbia," she finished.

"So, we're not two versions of the same constant then," Jack nodded before another thought occurred to him. "Wait a moment. If Booker was your father, and Comstock was another version of him, and you're the Lamb, and Andrew Ryan was my father, does that make me the Lamb of Rapture?"

Elizabeth let out a loud snort. "Trust me, you're the Rogue here in Rapture. I didn't pick up a gun until I returned to Rapture to save Sally. Direct participation in combat wasn't and still isn't my speciality."

"You're pulling your own weight as far as I'm concerned," Jack countered. "I mean, you handled yourself pretty well when I was killed and you had to hold your own against that splicer gang. You're smaller than me and don't have nearly as many plasmids, but you're a survivor, and one of the few good ones at that."

Elizabeth blushed again. "Thanks, Jack. Now before we get drawn into another tangent on multiverse theory and the existential crises that come with that," she took a step back and twirled around in her new outfit. "What do you think?"

There hadn't been a lot of outfits to choose from. The store's inventory had been looted by those few splicers with enough sense to feel the need for new clothes, and of course some splicers had to burn, slash, or bleed on a good number of the remaining clothes. He and Elizabeth had scrounged up about half a dozen still intact outfits. They were taking all of them, no question, but Elizabeth had asked if she could check to make sure that they could at least fit.

This was something that girls, in normal circumstances, liked to do, right? Go clothes shopping, find some outfits, try them on, ask for a friend or boyfriend's opinion if one was available? Seeing as most of Elizabeth's existence was filled with the atypical, dangerous, and downright deadly, Jack had decided that she deserved to experience something "normal" for a change. Plus, if one of the outfits didn't fit her, it was best to know beforehand and not have to haul it around.

The outfit she had on now, the last one (thankfully), was honestly the best one. He had been too busy breaking down and then talking about weird Tear stuff to notice until now. Given how crazy her life had been, it was appropriate that her outfit bore a resemblance to Alice in Wonderland's outfit, only more grown-up and with the times.

It was a full circle swing dress with short sleeves and a modest, scooped neckline. It came with a standard white petticoat and a matching belt that wrapped tightly around Elizbeth's abdomen, adding dimension to the dress' solid sky-blue coloring.

While she had been struggling with the first few outfits, Jack had gone over to Shoes after laying down some Cyclone Traps, Trap Bolts, and proximity mines, of course. He had come back with a pack of black stockings, a pair of shoes, and a coat that he had scavenged off one of the newly dead splicers. The shoes were a pair of black, T-strap swing pumps with a reasonable, sturdy heel, giving her a few more inches of height without compromising her stability.

The surprisingly-nice trench coat, which the splicer must have donned recently, gave her an air of resilience and power. If it wasn't for his Big Daddy suit, Jack would have looked into getting one for himself. It wouldn't be nearly as effective at protecting him as the suit, but it would have been lighter and not nearly as hot. Comfort wasn't a luxury he could afford right now, however.

Elizabeth had finished her spin and was waiting for his thoughts. Jack swallowed and quickly gathered his thoughts. She looked amazing in her new outfit, how to get that across without sounding enamored?

"You look great," he settled on, before adding, "like you could take on Rapture and come out without a scratch."

She also looked beautiful, but he wasn't sure exactly how to tell a friend that. He wondered for a brief moment if that was something that Suchong's programming had left out, or if that was something typical for normal people, but quickly banished that line of thought.

Whatever the best response would have been, Elizabeth smiled at him. "Thank you, Jack," she said, straightening out the sides of her dress and coat. "Now that we've got that covered, how about we get some lunch at Tenenbaum's and then get back to scavenging supplies?"

"That sounds great to me," Jack answered, hefting his tommy gun. Elizabeth turned and began gathering her weapons and other things. Before she zipped up her bag, Jack caught sight of her older outfits, the old timey dress and the "Noir" blouse and skirt.

After he had recollected the proximity he had left on that elevator (it was amazing that nobody had set it off), Elizabeth had asked if they could retrieve her Rapture outfit from Cupid's Arrow. It was one of her favorites and it just needed some repairs. Jack had acquiesced to that, but almost refused when she had asked him to come into the store with her, "just in case".

His protective instincts had won out over his embarrassment, and he had gone in. His face had been beet red the entire time they were in Cupid's Arrow. While she just simply walked to the employees room and grabbed her outfit, he did his best not to look at the store's wares or Elizabeth. She hadn't said a word the entire time, but he had glimpsed a small smile on her face when she had turned to leave. His one consolation was that beneath the smirk, her face had been almost as red as his.

"Wait a minute," he said, puzzle pieces clicking into place in his head.

"What's wrong?" Elizabeth asked as she shouldered her bag, her hands reaching for the shotgun.

"When we went into Cupid's Arrow," he began slowly, looking her full in her blue eyes, "you could have just scoped out the entire joint with your x-ray vision, couldn't you?"

Elizabeth looked back at him, just as calmly. For about five seconds before bursting out laughing again.

"I'm s-sorry," she managed to gasp out, "but I couldn't re-resist, and the look on-on your face-" She couldn't articulate any further and just clutched at her middle, laughing hard.

Jack was able to keep his face disapproving for most of her outburst, eventually breaking and allowing himself to snort. "That wasn't nice," he told her when she finally came up for air.

"I-I was wondering when you would realize that," she said, gasping for breath. "I won't do that again, I promise."

Jack rolled his eyes in a mixture of amusement and exasperation. "If I remember correctly, you were red in the face yourself when we were in there."

"Of course I was," Elizabeth said as she walked past him, "but I wasn't nearly as red as you were."

Despite the truth of her words, Jack opened his mouth to protest. Before he could get a word out, however, Elizabeth held up a hand in a silent command to halt. She quickly took out the crossbow, aimed it, and then fired off a bolt. There was a screech of pain followed by the loud thump of a body hitting the ground.

Jack was quick to join Elizabeth's side, his tommy gun out and ready to spit lead. In a little alcove where three (now two) mannequins were displayed (wasn't it a bit much for full-body mannequins to be used in a jewelry store?), a newly-killed splicer lay, twitching as the bolt in her head drained her of life. Beneath her body lay another, dead for much longer and long stripped of anything useful.

"They never learn," Elizabeth snorted. "That first body right there? She tried the exact same thing the last time I was here. Comstock spotted her right away."

"Damnit," Jack swore. "I knew I should have left the defenses up when I came back. Sorry about that, Elizabeth."

"It's alright," Elizabeth brushed off his apology as she walked over to the splicer to retrieve the bolt and loot their pockets. "At least it wasn't one of those Houdini splicers. Thank God that none of them seem to have a working brain."

"Yeah, but they sure make up for it by being able to soak up lead like a sponge," Jack grumbled as he scanned over the store for any more splicers. "Elizabeth, mind if I tell you something?"

"Sure, Jack," Elizabeth straightened, pocketing some bills before walking over to him to open up his bag and put some ammo in it. "What's on your mind?"

Jack took a moment to look at her as he considered his words. He was still getting used to this "talking with people" thing. It was easier when he had the radio as an intermediate between him and the person on the other end, even more so when he hadn't been able to talk at all. Maybe it was all because he liked Elizabeth and didn't want her to think worse of him?

"When I had to choose what to do-" he began before faltering. He swallowed and started again. "What to do about the first Little Sister, I had just gotten done facing off against Steinman. He was...very frightening, more so than the other splicers I had encountered before. His audio diaries, his...decorations around the Medical Pavilion, the bodies of the women he had mutilated up on his walls like trophies-"

He couldn't help but shiver at the recollections. Damn Steinman, he would never be able to visit a doctor again after all that.

"When I was fighting him, I emptied an entire Tommy clip into him, and he just wouldn't. Go. Down. I about had a heart attack when I saw him at a Health Station. Afterwards, when I was presented with the choice between harvesting or saving that first Little Sister, I was...indecisive, about what to do. After Steinman, the idea of getting more Plasmids with the extra ADAM from harvesting sounded...worth it."

Jack hung his head. "I was stuck, caught between choosing my own life and the little girl's. I finally decided to take a chance with Tenenbaum's promise and keep my soul. It must have taken me five minutes to make up my mind, standing there, looking on while that little girl cowered and whimpered. I was that close to being that other Jack, and he was that close to being me."

He looked up back at Elizabeth, full in her blue eyes. "How can I be a good person when it takes five minutes to decide if I should kill a little girl or not?" He asked, point-blank.

Elizabeth was quiet, just looking at him. Whelp, that was it. He had just blown it.

He was turning towards the store entrance when Elizabeth answered. "Because you chose not to kill her, even when it appeared that you might not have a choice."

"It's not like it was life and death," Jack retorted. "I had already been killed and brought back at one of the Vita-Chambers. Dying because I didn't have better Plasmids wouldn't have been a problem."

"Somehow, I don't think dying over and over again would be much better," Elizabeth responded. "Jack, there's nothing wrong with being faced with a terrible choice and not immediately going with the right decision. As long as you do what's right, that's what matters.

"That other Jack, he made his choice. Before that first Little Sister, you and that other Jack were the same person. After that, there were two of you, and you are by far the better man. Never, ever think differently."

Jack could see the passion in her eyes as she spoke; she full-on believed it and that made it all the more real. He carefully slung his machine gun over his shoulder before walking forward and holding out his arms in a question.

Elizabeth smiled and walked into his arms, embracing him once again. As his arms went around her, he wished that he wasn't wearing this stupid diving suit, wished that he could hold her closer. Wearing the suit was getting older by the minute.

"Thank you, Liz," he said, glancing down at her. He noticed that while the rest of her hair was as dark as Snow White's, her roots were coming in as a lighter shade of brown. Must have dyed her hair to blend in as well. He wondered briefly what it would look like when her hair had grown out more. "That means more to me than I can say."

"You're welcome, Jack," Elizabeth replied.

When they finally separated, Elizabeth looked up at him with a quirked eyebrow. "Did you just call me Liz?" she asked.

"Uh," Jack was thrown for a moment by the curveball from left field until he remembered that he just had.

"I did," he admitted. "I'm sorry-"

"No no, it's fine," she cut him off, a thoughtful expression coming over her face. "In fact, I think I like it. Everyone's always referred to me by my full name. I like my name, but it's long and so formal. Liz."

She looked back up at him, smiling. "I like it. Thank you, Jack."

"You're quite welcome," he said, and then added, "Liz."

Her smile grew wider, and he couldn't help but grin back at her. Ok, this whole friend was pretty nice.

The moment was interrupted when a trio of splicers walked in through the doors and stopped short when they saw him and Elizabeth. As one of them charged with a roar and a raised piece of lead pipe, Jack sighed as he unslung his gun, Elizabeth brought up the crossbow, and they both turned to face their new opponents.

A few minutes later, they both strode out the doors of Ladieswear onto the second floor of Pavilion, their wallets a little heavier and their spirits a little lighter.

"How about we go back to Tenenbaum's for lunch, then get back to the job of actually finding supplies?" Jack asked.

"Sounds good to me," Elizabeth-no, Liz said, shifting her bag for better balance. "I doubt that Tenenbaum is happy with the detours we've taken."

Jack let out a snort at that. Other than his choice to save the Little Sisters and the death of Fontaine, there wasn't much that seemed to make Tenenbaum happy. Maybe once they got themselves and the Little Sisters out of Rapture, maybe she would be able to come out of the perturbed state that she was usually in.

They were at the dock where their bathysphere was waiting for them (thank God) when Liz spoke up.

"Jack, mind if I ask you something?" she asked.

"Sure," Jack replied. It was only fair, he had asked her a whopper of a question back there.

"What are you going to do about your last name?" she asked. "I mean, there's nothing wrong with the name 'Wynand', it's just that now you know the truth, I'm not sure if you'll want to keep it or find something else."

That threw Jack for a moment. He was silent in thought as he and Liz got into the bathysphere and he set the controls to take them back to Olympus Heights.

"I don't like the idea of keeping the surname 'Wynand'," he finally said. "It's a fake name, and it was probably fake for my 'parents' on the surface as well. That said, it's still a better last name than 'Ryan'."

Liz nodded in agreement. "Also, you might not want to take up his old Russian name, Rianofski. From what I've read and what little I remember, Russian names could bring a lot of suspicion, especially in the States."

Taking Ryan's original Russian name hadn't occurred to him at all, and he definitely intended on going back to the USA. The only language he knew was English, and he had no actual relatives in England (probably), so he had no real reason to go there either.

Wait a moment - relatives?

"Jolene," he said, sitting up straight.

"What?" Liz said, taking her eyes off the ocean life that was swimming by to look at him.

"My mother's name was Jasmine Jolene," he explained. "Jack Jolene; that sounds a sight better than 'Jack Ryan'."

"Actually," Elizabeth said, "her name was Mary Catherine Jolene. Jasmine was just her stage name."

"Thanks, Liz," Jack said, smiling. Jack Jolene, son of Mary Catherine Jolene. That was a name that he could live with.


Like I said, fluff chapter, with some needed characterization and emotional conflict resolution. I'm wondering if I couldn't have saved that for later when they're on the surface and no longer in danger. After all, trauma hits the worst after the danger is past and one is safe. Then again, I'm not planning on getting too far into the future after they settle down on the surface.

Well, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. I'll hopefully either get a new one in this story up soon, or I'll finally get a chapter posted in WonderShock. Happy reading, everyone, and good night!