Rapture Noir: Finale

Booker stared out the window as he drove. He was well past city limits, not much out there but fields and cattle. Ahead in the distance he could see his destination, a small hill topped by a small elm tree.

Turning off the road Booker found a small patch of gravel to park his car. He sat in silence for several minutes, finally working up the courage to open the car door.

Leaning against his car Booker took out a cigarette, but eventually decided against lighting it. This wasn't the time or the place.

Rolling thunder could be heard overhead as Booker ascended the hill. The thick mud made each step a labor. At the top of the hill was a tree and a small stone cross.

As he approached the small stone cross his heart was filled with dread. Kneeling, he wiped away the debris and looked at the name on the headstone.

'Elizabeth Comstock 1893-1958'

Booker fell to his knees and began to weep to himself. He had failed her so many times. She had done nothing to deserve this. "Please, please let me take it back." He whimpered as he reached out and touched the headstone. "I'd do anything for another chance."

Suddenly it occurred to him. No, no this was wrong. Those dates, this didn't make any sense. Why couldn't he remember? Booker wiped away a wetness at his nose and realized it was blood.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Booker started at the familiar voice.

There she was. Dressed in an oddly familiar blue dress and holding a bright red rose.

Booker stood and extended a hand cautiously. "Elizabeth? Wha-I don't understand. Is that really you?"

Elizabeth knelt and placed the flower next to the headstone. "Let's take a walk. Down to the pier, if you don't mind."

Silently Booker followed Elizabeth down the hill. Even in her dress she seemed to have no trouble navigating the muddy slope. Ahead was a small wooden pier jutting out from the wet grass. Why hadn't he noticed the pier before? Or for that matter, the lake.

Memories began to flood back. Rapture, Columbia, a million lifetimes of remembering. "What happened, exactly? I remembered you dying. None of this makes any sense."

"I came to a conclusion. Or a part of me did, anyway. The best thing I could do for Rapture was take myself out of the equation."

"But...what is this place? And why am I here?" Booker inquired, waving a hand back towards the hill.

"It's a place to say goodbye." Elizabeth remarked, more to herself than to Booker.

Booker raised an eyebrow and followed her to the end of the pier. Together they stood looking out into the mist-covered water. Occasionally some bird could be heard calling in the distance.

"Need a light?" Booker inquired, noticing Elizabeth fumbling with a cigarette.

Elizabeth dipped the tip of her cigarette in the small flicker of fire produced from

Booker's fingertip. "Thanks"

"Booker, I'm so sorry." Elizabeth declared suddenly, turning her head to Booker.

"What for?"

"For everything." Elizabeth said, spreading her arms out wide. "Booker, I've hurt so many people. Abigail, Rock, you."

"Elizabeth, you can't put that on yourself." Booker replied, reaching out and touching her shoulder.

"Yes I can." Elizabeth stated, brushing aside his hand. "Everything that's happened has happened because I wanted to interfere."

"Elizabeth, everyone hurts people without meaning to. Believe me." Booker responded, forcing a grin.

"Not like this. Booker, people are dead."

"But what about the people you helped?

Wordlessly Elizabeth sat down on the pier and dipping her toes into the water, watched the ripples. Her friends Margarette and Clarice, they hated her. But because of what she did she saw that they would live. Esmé would find her daughter one day.

Booker watched her intently. There was so much hurt in that girl. Before he could join her she spoke again. "That doesn't undo what I've done."

"It doesn't have to." Booker said, sitting down next to her. "Elizabeth, I forgive you."

Elizabeth's eyes welled up. "I'm so sorry."

"Shh, I know." Booker held Elizabeth in silence for what could have been hours. Looking up, Booker noticed that periodically a light would shine through the darkness before disappearing again.

"So what now?"

Elizabeth sniffled and wiped away her tears. "I don't know, I suppose I'll just keep looking for a place to belong. Somewhere where I won't hurt people."

"You're talking like I'm not coming along."

"This is a place to say goodbye, remember? You aren't coming."

Booker gripped her firmly. "No, I don't buy that. Not after all this. Where would I even go?"

"Home, where you belong."

Booker chuckled. "Elizabeth, no offense but that's bullshit and you know it. I belong with you."

"But you have New York. You have-"

"Those are just memories.  Some good, some bad, none of them with you.  None of them with us."

She smiled at this and stood up.

"But, I have some questions." Booker said, righting himself. "And I want answers

this time. What am I? These memories of mine, I don't understand it. And..." He continued. "What are we, exactly?"

"That's the beautiful part." Elizabeth replied, pulling him by the hand. "We can find out together."