Chapter 1

The TARDIS doors opened as Dante stepped through them, looking a tad worse for wear. For starters, his clothes (which were his standard shirt/jean/hoodie combo) were ripped, torn and burnt. Not helped that the tail end of his jacket was smoking which he promptly snuffed out. Flicking a switch, the doors shut closed as he began punching in coordinates before pulling the lever which flung the TARDIS into the vortex. A relieved sigh escaped his lips as he dragged himself to a nearby armchair and flopped down into it.

"That's about what? The umpteenth time I've stopped Sontaran's from disrupting a major event that would screw the whole space-time continuum into a pretzel with their whole war against the Rutan's? 'Colonel Vrax, high ranking officer and conqueror of Brontitall' defeated by a hammer to the probic vent." He tisked, shaking his head. "Gave him a chance to escape and he instead decided to run back into the exploding ship. Well at least Strax isn't that stupid." Pausing, he thought about the potato warrior as well as the couple that made up the Paternoster Gang. "Not a bad idea actually. Might visit for Christmas or New-"


"Oh, what now?!" Dante whined, noting the sound of the Cloister Bell. He started trudging back down the stairs only for the ship to lurch, causing him to lose his footing. Getting his balance back, the hybrid manage to get over to the console screen to see what's wrong.

Just as he did though, the lights flickered as two familiar figures were standing right across from him.

"Mr. Price. I told you we'd meet again." Robert nodded once at Dante, bowing slightly.

"Hello, twins. It's been about a few months since we've last seen each other. How long has it been for you?"

"Oh, a few centuries, at the least," Rosalind said dismissively. "Or maybe not. Time is relative, after all, and we've become quite lost in it. But nevermind that. We are here to inform you that Ms. Elizabeth is just a few days away from completing her rather heinous goal. We would suggest you travel there at once to either intercept her or help her, whatever it is that you plan on doing."

"Straight to the point, then," Dante quipped.

"Indeed. Shall we remind you of the many things you are forbidden from doing?" Robert asked.

"I can guess. Don't interfere with anyone too major or end up killing them, intentional or not." Dante surmised.

"Very good. We will be keeping in touch, so to speak, but do not call upon us to solve your problems unless it is of the utmost urgency."

"The year is 1958 and you already know the location. We wish you the best of luck." Rosalind allowed a tiny smile to creep onto her face.

"Also, and perhaps this is obvious, but we suggest you get a change of clothes that's more appropriate for the occasion."

"Right, right." The lights flickered once again before turning back on, the twins nowhere in sight. Dante let out a sigh. "I'm coming for you Elizabeth." He then punched in the coordinates: 67° N, 34° W 63° N, 20° W 57° N, 35° W as well as the year and whatnot before pulling the lever. It calculated that the arrival time would be close enough that he could switch into a change of clothing. A few minutes later he did exactly that, switching into his outfit that he wore in Columbia the first time around. Thankfully it had been repaired and cleaned up as he stuffed his pockets with the essentials: his sonic screwdriver, psychic paper, jelly babies and a bunch of random stuff so if he was searched, it'd take whoever was digging through his pockets awhile to finish. Lastly he pulled out the bird broach that Elizabeth had given him before she'd departed. He gave it a slight squeeze before putting it in his waistcoat pocket and headed from the wardrobe back to the console room. And just in time too, as the TARDIS had just landed with a THUNK as he straightened out his outfit, punched in a timed command and headed out the door. Dante took a peak before stepping outside and closed the door behind him just as the TARDIS dematerialized, journeying back home till it was called upon. In the few months after his venture in Colombia, he'd manage to get a beta version of his "return to sender" program installed. Basically if he were to twist his Ultramatrix in a certain combination, it would call for the TARDIS to come back. That small detail aside, Dante took in his surroundings, which happened to be an alleyway, and breathed in the air. Salty and a tad fishy was the best way to sum it up as he made his way into what looked like a string of architectural firms, shopping centers and lodgings. He sought to make his way down the street, blending in with the hussle and bussle until feeling the ground shake. Lumbering towards him is what looked like a very distinct heavy diving suit, its entire torso of which was covered by a thick metal carapace. The head protruded directly forward from the upper chest area and was encased in a hemispherical helmet studded with eight lit portholes. In addition there was a large, fully-functional conical drill attached to the right arm just forward of the elbow. It was none other than the repairman/protector known simply as a Big Daddy. Before he had a chance to act, a hand had grabbed Dante's arm as he was pulled to the side.

"That was close." The owner of the arm, a woman from the sound of her voice, sighed in relief before turning to the young man. "Now, what in the hell did you think you were doing? Should know better than to get up in front of a Big Daddy."

"Sorry, kinda new here." Dante apologized. "Didn't know if they were blind or not."

The woman gave him an incredulous look, eyeing him suspiciously. "As well as that might be, you should steer clear of them. Heard one of them managed to put a man in the hospital. Damn near killed him."

"I see." He realized before sticking his hand out. "Dante Price."

She returned the handshake, nodding once. "Grace Holloway. It's nice to see more friendly people around these parts."

"Thank you, Ms. Holloway. Funny, I knew someone once by that name who just so happened to be a doctor."


"Did I say doctor? I meant nurse." He chuckled nervously.

"Right…" To her credit, she was no fool—she didn't look like she believed him in the slightest. "Well, nevermind that. What brings you to Siren Alley?"

"Well, I'm trying to find someone. An...old friend, if you will. Well, not quite,'s complicated."

"I see. This fellow have a name?"

"A P.I. You might've heard of him, goes by the name Booker DeWitt."

Grace paused as she was about to take out a cigarette from a pack she pulled from her purse. "Yeah, I've heard of him."

"I can tell by your tone that his reputation isn't all that clean."

"No shit. I'll give the bastard this, he can find you even if you're trying your damnedest to hide, whether you like it or not." She finished digging a cig out of the pack, dug around for her lighter, and took a long drag before turning back to Dante. "You need his help or somethin'?"

"Or somethin'. Know where he lives?"

Grace nodded, taking another drag. "Yeah, everybody knows." She huffed a laugh. "He don' get out much, 'cept to drink or bet on races. Nobody really likes him. Lives in his office on Market Street, far east end. Be careful where you step there-lotsa rich folk live there and they won't mind using people like us as a stepping stool to get what they want."

"Gotcha. Thank you so much for the advice. One last thing, though-do you think you can point me to the fastest way there?"


Grace pointed him towards the nearest train station where he boarded what was essentially an underwater train. The transport was pressurized and was sturdy enough to withstand the force of the ocean. It took awhile but he managed to make it to Market Street where Grace's words indeed rung true. As as soon as he stepped off the train, there were people all around in tight dresses and crisp suits glancing at him with wrinkled noses and whispered words to their companions. He ignored them as he made his way to his destination, and wow, the place was as fancy as he propel. Or was it the other way around?

The area looked like it catered to the middle to upper-class citizens of Rapture as a center where they could dine and live in style. The place consisted of a strip of shops, residential complexes, and various businesses, with a street overlooking other buildings. It had a spectacular view of the sea and Streamline Moderne grandeur; truly this place showcased the best of Rapture's design. As he walked through the area, admiring the sights, he stopped a couple passerbyers, and they all pointed him up a set of stairs that led to a platform that overlooked the bottom area. As it turned out, Booker was indeed well-known and slightly infamous to boot. He headed up the stairs, taking two at a time just because he could, and once he reached the top, he knocked on the door. Jiggling the handle, Dante noted it was locked before making sure no one was looking, he pulled out his sonic screwdriver and unlocked the door. He stepped inside before closing and locking the door behind him, noting that there was no one here.

'Time to snoop, I suppose,' he thought, and began his search. For what, he didn't exactly know, but he figured whatever he could find would be helpful. He spotted the usual creature comforts and decorations: a heater oven in the corner, a military shadow box hanging on the wall, pots and pans hanging over a desk that was against the wall. A desk, covered in scattered paperwork and pencils and pens, sat near the center of the room, and a little behind it, to the right side, was a sleeping area. There were also a plethora of race tickets and several bottles of booze around either on the desk or on the floor. 'Looks like some things never change.' All that aside, Dante went over to the desk to see what he could find, opening the draws and digging through them. What he found mostly consisted of empty cigarette boxes, an ashtray, and a few various writing utensils before he came across something interesting: a picture of a little blonde haired girl with a doll with the words 'Sally with Sarah 1957' written on it. Unlike the rest of the items on the desk-or, indeed, in the apartment itself-the picture was placed neatly on the desk, propped up against the calendar. In addition, the head of the doll in the picture was sitting on the desk, though it remained attached to the doll in the picture itself.

"What's this?" Dante mused out loud, taking a seat at the desk so that his back was to the door. "Sally...huh. I know that face…"

He didn't have much time to ponder that little thought as he suddenly felt a sharp pain at the base of his skull. As he fell forward, the broach he'd put in his vest had fallen out of his pocket, skidding across the floor. The intruder didn't turn their gaze from Dante, moving in closer; meanwhile the stunned traveler was trying to inch closer to the broach, hoping to retrieve it so as not to lose it to what he assumed to be a petty thief. Speaking of which…

The intruder walked closer before stepping a heeled foot onto his hand just as he got near the pendant. He hissed in pain, trying to twist his head to see who exactly was stepping on his foot, but he couldn't quite manage it and anyways, it was too dark.

"Look, you can kill me if you want-well, you can try, at least-but let me at least have that first. It's rather important," he pleaded, not sure if the intruder was armed with anything lethal.

The intruder, about to bring down their weapon a second time, stopped dead. "Wait a damn second. Are you-no, it-can't be." Dante heard the intruder-who sounded strangely familiar, he noted-walk over to an unspecified location, the sound of a switch being flicked, and boom, there was light. In front of him stood none other than Elizabeth herself, dressed in a pencil skirt, fishnet stockings, and a crisp white blouse. Her short hair had grown itself out and settled nicely on her shoulders. Her features were accentuated now with a bit of dark mascara and bright red lipstick, which did well to highlight the look of shock and surprise on her face as she looked at Dante.


The man himself, to his credit, recovered his composure quickly, and managed to turn himself around, stand up, and quickly scoop up the broach as he made his way towards her. "Hey Elizabeth," he managed to get out before feeling for the spot on the back of his head where he'd been hit. "Ow, that's smarts!"

She winced as well, looking to her credit a bit ashamed. "Ah, right...sorry about that. But-nevermind that now. What are you doing here, and how did you know I'd be here? Or is this all just a coincidence?"

"Coincidence?" Dante suggested, getting a wary look from his assailant. "Alright, fine, you caught me. The twins told me where to find you," he admitted, and received a groan from Elizabeth in response.

"The twins, of course. Always sticking their noses in other people's business... but anyways. First of all, it's good to see you again. I really mean that. And I wish we could catch up, maybe spend some time together, but I'm afraid that's not possible. I've still got that thing to do...but if you're here now, I'm guessing you know what it is and are either going to try and stop me or help me."

"Well, stop you, obviously. You can't go through with this and if you do..." He trailed, not really wanting to say what her fate would be if she did. "The point is you can't. I know what this one did, but you'd be no better than him if you take your vengeance out on him."

"He needs to suffer," Elizabeth said, her expression darkening. "You know what this one did, you said-you know why this one deserves it-he doesn't deserve to sit here all chusy and pretend, forget that. He shouldn't even exist in the first place."

"You think he hasn't suffered enough?" Dante said, waving around the room. "He's been remorseful of what he's done and he has tried to redeem himself, even if he hasn't realized he needs redeeming." He pulled out the picture of Sally and held it in front of Elizabeth's face. "Do you see this child? Her name is Sally. Comstock found her by the docks, and he cared for her. An orphaned kid, who he could have ignored like everyone else did, but he didn't. Now, that doesn't make him a saint, but it does show that there's still something left of...of him in there."

"Don't you dare." Her expression was icy cold now, stepping away from Dante as she snarled, "Don't you dare compare him to Comstock. He wasn't-he would never-" she sighed. "No. There's nothing left of this man that could in any way resemble my father. You said it yourself, that doesn't make him a saint. He still needs to get what's coming to him. You will not sway me, Dante Price. You will not stop me. So either get on board, or get out of my way."

Dante scoffed in response, a few unintended chuckles escaping from him.

"Something funny?" she sneered, looking up at him. She crossed her arms across her chest and narrowed her eyes, still frowning.

"Oh, nothing funny. Not really. But...just...Elizabeth, listen to yourself. That's exactly what someone says when they basically are asking to die. Instead of just living they just dig their own graves and wait for someone to push them in, not expecting it at all. Now wanting for someone to take into account for their actions is fine but it doesn't make you judge, jury or executioner. If you go through with this then it will happen this way: you make the kill, but your pain doesn't die with Comstock, it grows. So you run out into the night to find another face, and another, and another, until one horrible morning you wake up and realize that revenge has become your whole life. And you won't know why."

The words clearly affected Elizabeth more than she cared to show. The tension drained from her face and she immediately lessened her stance, frowning slightly instead of intently now. She didn't speak, but fixed her lessened gaze on Dante, less intense but no less piercing. He took that as his sign to keep going.

"In the end, could you live with yourself knowing you killed a man who, yes, has been trying to drown the memories, but at the same time trying to redeem himself?"

"How exactly has he been trying to redeem himself? It doesn't count if he doesn't know he's done anything wrong." Her voice is still sharp, but it's...softer, now-somehow. Her words are no longer meant to pierce or wound, but to simply understand, which is what Dante had been working towards. He resisted the urge to smile at the new development. "Taking care of a child can be redemption yes, and I suppose subconsciously he did want to redeem himself….so I suppose you're right…"

"You know how you knew that?"


He allowed a small smile to form. "You started to think like me." Dante let out a sigh, sliding his hands over his face. "Keep on that thought, I won't rush you. In the meantime, know any places to get a drink?"

"I…" she finally allowed herself a small but rueful smile, shaking her head as she huffed. "Yeah. I might know somewhere. And, ah, while we're at it...maybe we should talk."


The two made their way from the office, walking side by side, towards a bar by the name of Le Temps Perdu. They managed to find two open stools and as they sat down, the barkeep walked over to them.

"Hello Songbird!" he said cheerfully, not paying much attention to Dante. "Will it be the usual?"

"Yes, brandy and…" She looked over to her compatriot, hoping that he would get the hint and fill in the blanks for her.

"Rum, straight up."

"Alright, one brandy and one rum for the Songbird and her friend." The barkeep read back as he went back behind the bar to make said drinks. Elizabeth turned to Dante, grinning slightly.


"Mmm," she shrugged noncommittally, "Nothing.'re looking at me funny. Anything in particular you wanna talk to me about?" Her eyes twinkled with mirth, and her grin widened a bit more in playful flirtation.

"Well," Dante replied, returning the smile, "I was just curious about a few things. Like how long you've been here."

"Six months."

"Huh. It's been two months for me. Then again, different dimensions, different time zones." He leaned forward on the bar, looking around a bit. "But what and how have you been doing since we last saw each other?"

"Fairly decent. You've seen my poster around, haven't you? 'Cohen's Little Songbird'. Not a bad gig, I'll admit, though I loathe my employer." She made a face, and that was the moment that the bartender finished with their drinks and set them down in front of their respective drinkers. "Thanks, Dom." She raised her glass in appreciation before taking a sip.

"Gotta admit, the name's ironic considering...well, you know. And yeah, heard Cohen's a little...eccentric." Dante phrased, taking a sip from his own drink. He knew the man was essentially a psychopath, even before the city's downfall, but then again he was an artist in a city with little to no god and rulers. "You know, I have heard you sing. Not here though, back at the tower. But I'm curious, what has Cohen been making you croon?"

"Ah, well," she smiled wryly, letting the mention of her former place of imprisonment slip. "Beyond the Sea, You Belong to Me, Rise Rapture Rise, oh! A few French songs, La vie en Rose in particular is a favorite of many. Those are my favorites. Ah...but most times he just has me sing the songs he writes, from his plays or just BS propaganda for Ryan." She makes a face, displeased with the notion, but shrugs again. "Can't turn down decent work though, can I? Anyways, it's just a temporary gig. was supposed to be." She looks meaningfully at Dante.

"Would love to hear you sing. Maybe a dance as well."

"Well, I've got a gig tomorrow night. Cohen's club, seven o'clock sharp. I'm supposed be on for thirty minutes. Maybe I could get you a reservation."

"That'd be wonderful," he grinned. "Though, I also heard that it requires invitation or did I hear wrong?"

"Oh, no, that's for his private parties. I myself went to a couple of them but…" She hesitated, swirling the contents of her glass. "Let's just say he can get a bit too passionate. I would not recommend going if you're not used to his antics. And even then, I would be cautious and have someone on standby to escort you home."

"Well, I've meet and known some people who are...let's just say enthusiastic about their line of work so I feel like I'll be right at home."

"Still. There's no way either of us are going to a private party of his unless I'm hired. In which case, you'd better be there suffering with me." She grinned widely. "Anyways...enough about me. What about you? What have you been up to?"

"I've just been traveling around as usual. Visited some friends, people I consider family, saved people along the way. Think I might've introduced the concept of cookies to some alien tribals while stopping some Sontarans."

She didn't say anything in response, but her eyes lit up and her grin intensified. "And?" she prompted when he didn't continue. "Tell me about it."

" all started when I was trying to reassemble one of the TARDIS console boards…"



"No joke, had to surf Florinall Nine's fire falls to escape them. I swear it wasn't even deliberate, I just jumped. Then again, that happens a lot of the time."

"I can imagine," she said, even though she couldn't really. "How often have you done that exact thing?"

"Honestly? Too many times to keep count of. Such is a day in the life of an adventurer." Dante sipped a bit of his drink, letting the taste numb his mouth some more. Dom had come by a few times to top off their drinks and by this point both were pretty buzzed, Elizabeth more so than Dante due to his enhanced metabolism. "So...where do we stand?"

"How do you mean?"

"I mean...can we even call it a relationship despite being apart for how long it's been?"

She looked thoughtful at that, tilting her head curiously as she pondered the question. "Well...if we're being completely honest? We didn't really have one in the first place. Yes, I like you, and I know you like me too. We kissed and we've been through a lot. But...we didn't really date, you know? We didn't really get a chance to sit down and talk about our feelings in depth. I'd like to try, of course."

"Well... I think we're going to need a few more drinks for that."

"You're telling me you don't even want to think about a relationship with me unless you're completely piss-drunk?"

"No, I mean this isn't really a thing that's done in public. Though, getting piss-drunk helps get more stuff out there."

"I mean, fair enough, but telling a story about how you introduced an entire alien species to the concept of cookies, plus stopping Sontarans from warping time and space, isn't really, either."

"Point taken, but most people would glance at that as gibberish and nonsense. Talking about feelings, however, is reserved for private places, and I'd rather not get into this now."

"I suppose," she finally relented, but she didn't sound happy about it. Too bad. She stood up from her stool, straightening out her skirt as she did so, and glanced at Dante. "Well, if we're going to do this, let's continue over at my place. I've got some vintages I've been meaning to open."

Dante got up from his seat as well, sticking his hands in his pockets. "Sure but what about the tab?"

She smirked, looking at him meaningfully. "Well, that's why I've got you," she replied in an overly sweet tone.

"You're kidding? I don't carry any money with me, no need for the stuff."

"It's all good. My tab's covered by Cohen anyways. But you're not as smart as I thought if you don't think there's any use for money."

"Oi, where I go depends. Plus, kind of hard to fork over a piece of paper with Ryan's face on it when there's no easy way to get it."

"You mean like an ATM? Yeah, they don't really have those here, considering they won't be invented for another nine years."

"How do you know that?" Dante questioned, giving her an odd look.

"Doors, remember?"

"Well then, lead the way."


It took awhile but the duo made it back to Elizabeth's apartment in Olympus Heights. Taking her key out of her purse, she unlocked the door, flipped a switch on the wall that turned on the lights and lead Dante inside.

"Make yourself comfortable while I get the wine and glasses." She invited him to sit on her couch with a wave of her hand before disappearing, and leaving Dante to his own devices.

Taking off his jacket and unbuttoning his vest, he took this as his chance to look around the apartment, noting various different small but important aspects that he otherwise wouldn't have thought of when it came to her-but put together like this, complied like a collection of sorts, it all made sense with her. The apartment, from what he could see from his position on the couch, was...well, it wasn't sparsely decorated, but it wasn't overly so, either. No pictures hung on the walls nor sat upon the mantle-in fact, there didn't appear to be any pictures in here at all. There were instead some posters, of herself and he assumed other influential people either in Rapture or the outside world, and Dante was fairly certain that one of the posters was of the famous French singer Edith Piaf.

Moving on from that, he noted with some surprise a baby grand piano tucked away in the corner of the living room, sheet music resting against the music stand. He couldn't make out what it was from here, but he resolved to ask later; most likely it was one of the songs she was supposed to perform soon. He didn't see any other instruments lying about, so unless she had some hiding in her room, he was going to assume that that was it. There was really nothing else of personal taste to see; a bookshelf, pushed against the wall on the far right side of the room, and a few books laying around the area, one with a bookmark and another simply lying open and facedown. He could make out one title as it was situated on the coffee table next to the couch, within arm's reach-Phantom of the Opera. Huh. She liked the classics, then. Of course she did.

He turned his attention away from that and noted that though there were little to no personal effects, she had spared no expense on furniture and decorations. There were shiny bits and baubles situated on the bookshelf, the mantle, the coffee table-any flat surface held at least one shiny trinket, whether it was a scale model of Rapture or a collector's item from some fancy club. Her couch was nice and cushy, Dante sinking comfortably into the cushions, and the pillows, though decorative, were soft and could easily be actually slept with. The two other chairs that were in the room looked fancy yet comfortable as well-they matched the couch so it was more than likely part of a set, so they probably were. The curtains hiding the large window that almost spanned the entire left side of the room were lacey and light, and the window seat had a few pillows and what looked from here to be a ball of yarn situated against one of them. Knitting, if Dante had to guess. There was a glass chandelier providing most of the light in the room, swaying gently high above him. The sheets of glass providing the design and the gentle, warm glow that it emitted made him feel a bit like he was in a castle, or a fancy restaurant. The lamp on the coffee table was similar-though it wasn't turned on, it too boasted of extravagance, the multicolored stained glass lampshade depicting a blue monarch butterfly on the front, and a winding glass flower underneath, twisting its way up the neck of the lamp. It was very beautiful, and fit right at home with the rest of Elizabeth's apartment-he even dared to say that apart from Elizabeth herself, it was the prettiest thing in here.

Speaking of...

Dante's attention was suddenly brought sharply back to reality when two perfectly manicured fingers snapped in front of him, and when his gaze traveled upwards he was met by Elizabeth holding out a glass in front of him, filled halfway with a rich, dark red liquid.

"There he is," she joked, finally handing him the glass.

Dante noticed that she was wearing a salmon colored nightgown. It was almost angle length, with a v-neck, and lighter-colored, poofy fur lining the ends of the sleeves. He also took note that she had taken off her makeup, looking...natural for lack of a better word. A small detail he didn't notice beforehand was the ribbon he'd given back in Colombia her was still on her wrist. Looking up, he smiled at her while taking the glass, "I never left. Also I'm surprised you kept it. The ribbon I mean."

She gave him a strange look, moving to sit beside him and crossing her legs as she laid back. Elizabeth took a couple sips of her drink before responding to that. "Of course I kept it. It's not worthless or anything. Just because I'm going after Comstock doesn't mean I don't love you."

"Well here's an idea: let's try to figure out an alternative then just killing him—otherwise we're no better than he is."

A long pause. "Yeah, I guess you're right," she finally conceded, shooting him a withering glance. "But, I am not letting him get away with this. Maybe I won't kill him, but I am still definitely getting my revenge."

Dante scoffed in response. "Revenge, the most worthless of causes. Justice is what you're looking for."

"Fine, whatever. You're already pushing your luck with this 'don't kill' thing. Obviously I was going to kill him, you're trying to dissuade me from doing just that now, and obviously you aren't going to just let this go, so I won't kill him. But I'm still getting reve-justice," she corrected herself, nodding. "Right. I suppose he should be alive to suffer for the rest of his miserable days."

"Death is just an easy way. But living with what you did is just as worse."

"Even worse." She grinned at him, maneuvering herself so that she could clink glasses with him. He didn't return the action but let her clink her glass with his.

"Don't, don't do that." He made a face, cringing at her tone and her almost malevolent grin.

She quickly schooled her face into a more neutral expression, correctly guessing what his issue was. "Eh, sorry, I'll. Ah. Try not to?" she grinned apologetically, and sighed when Dante nodded. "Ah, but I have missed you. Once all this fuss is over with, I'll have you take me on a real date. Ooohh, maybe in Paris. We still need to go. You did promise me."

"After we're finished here. Also showing you...well, the whole of time and space is a bonus."

"I'm sure. I can't wait. Oh, I want to read all the books and drink all the drinks and see the big blue sky and actually feel the warmth of the sun for once. You know, back in Columbia it was so high up that it was always cold, even in July. I'd love to sweat from the heat for once."

"Guess life down here isn't all that glorious. Though looking through your window to see a shark, a squid or even a whale swim by gets pretty novel."

"Oh, for sure. It was amazing at first, but after the first six times it got kind of annoying whenever my apartment would shake just because of some jerk whale."

"They're completely harmless! Besides it's better than living by the B line, asleep at twelve at night and then the train decides to come through."

The two went on back and forth, talking about little, big, or insignificant details. He told her more about his adventures, and people he'd met or helped to influence. She in turn told him all about Rapture, promised to take him to some fancy clubs, and caught him up on all that she'd been doing. He commented on her clear taste for the finer things in life and she responded back with a witty, "Well, one of us has to, honey!" Finally, as Elizabeth went into detail about what a horror Cohen was to work with, he remembered the baby grand in the corner of the room.

"You play the piano?" he asked in the next lull in the conversation.

"I can play pretty well. Cohen's been force-feeding me lessons. Can you play?"

"Yes as well as dramatic recitals, tap-dancing and play the Trumpet Voluntary in a bowl of live goldfish. Don't ask about that last one. Please."

She snorted in amusement, shaking her head. "Don't worry, I won't." She looked over to the piano, tilting her head, and then looked back at Dante. "You wanna play something?"

"Thought you'd never ask." He drank down the rest of his wine before sitting down at the instrument, pressing the keys to make sure they were in tune before starting. Elizabeth watched in amusement, refilling her own wineglass and noting in dismay that it was almost empty. Dante finally got comfortable and began to strike the keys, beginning to sing:

It's a little bit funny, this feeling inside

I'm not one of those who can easily hide

I don't have much money, but boy if I did

I'd buy a big house where we both could live

If I was a sculptor, but then again, no

Or a man who makes potions in a traveling show

I know it's not much, but it's the best I can do

My gift is my song, and this one's for you

And you can tell everybody this is your song

It may be quite simple, but now that it's done

I hope you don't mind, I hope you don't mind that I put down in words

How wonderful life is while you're in the world

I sat on the roof and kicked off the moss

Well, a few of the verses, well, they've got me quite cross

But the sun's been quite kind while I wrote this song

It's for people like you that keep it turned on

So excuse me forgetting, but these things I do

You see I've forgotten if they're green or they're blue

Anyway the thing is what I really mean

Yours are the sweetest eyes I've ever seen

And you can tell everybody this is your song

It may be quite simple, but now that it's done

I hope you don't mind, I hope you don't mind that I put down in words

How wonderful life is while you're in the world

I hope you don't mind, I hope you don't mind that I put down in words

How wonderful life is while you're in the world

Finishing the song with a last few notes, Dante removed his fingers from the keys before looking over to Elizabeth, who was staring at the keyboard with a thoughtful look as she took another sip of her wine. She then pursed her lips. "That was beautiful. What was that song?"

"Your Song."

"All mine?" She arched an eyebrow, amusement evident on her face.

"Do you want it to be?" Dante questioned, knowing it'd be somewhat of a trick question since that was the title of the song.

"Hmn. Maybe." She leaned down, until she and Dante were a hair's width apart, her wine-sodden breath ghosting over his lips, and she smirked. "Prove it to me."

Grinning in response, Dante pretended to think about it. "As you wish," he said finally before he leaned forward and sealed her lips with his.


Elizabeth woke up with a slight headache and safe to say a small amount of regret as she recalled the night before. Though, said regret was quickly replaced by happiness as she also recalled the more exciting and romantic parts of last night. The mixed scent of fried eggs, bacon, toast and freshly made coffee helped her slight stupor. She sniffed a couple more times to make sure her senses were working correctly, and once she confirmed she rose out of bed, got dressed, and made her way to her kitchen. Once there she found, as she suspected, Dante standing over her stove making breakfast. She was about to announce her presence when he spoke.

"Morning. Or at least what passes for morning down here, hard to tell. Coffee on the table to help with your hangover, didn't know if you took milk or sugar so I just left some besides it." He nodded over to said table, gesturing for her to sit down, which she did. She began to add her preferred amount of confections to her coffee before she noticed Dante looking at her funny.

"So...when did you take up smoking?" Her expression showed that Elizabeth needed a tad more explanation, her look accented by a sharp eyebrow upwards. "I noticed during our...session last night. That stuff leaves a distinct taste, you know. Not trying to sound like a controlling jerk, but you should quit. It's unhealthy and it will kill you. I know you don't like hearing it, but it's the truth. Maybe we can get you some patches, or even a vape pen, but-"

Elizabeth snorted, waving a dismissive hand and shaking her head. "Ohh, don't worry, don't worry. Somehow I don't think that will be that hard."

He was somewhat confused by her reaction, though he did have an inkling as to what she meant. "What do you mean?"

Elizabeth shook her head, smiling thinly. "Truth? I don't even like smoking. The taste is disgusting, and the smell is…" she stopped for a second, trying to come up with an adequate word, but nothing came to mind. Finally she simply shrugged. "Not for me. It's only for show; fancy parties and trying to get info out of people. Even then I never finished a stick, and ditched it as soon as I was out of sight. I don't think it'll be too much trouble to have me quit 'cold turkey', as they say."

Dante nodded, happy that he didn't have to actually do anything. "Alright, that's good. So, aside from your performance tonight, what could we do before then?"

"Hmn. I did say that I wanted to show you the good clubs and places to eat. There's some other stuff to do, like casinos and strip clubs, but I don't think we need to visit those." She tilted her head in thought. "Well, maybe one casino. If you want. I'm not a frequenter but it can be a bit fun."

"Oh, that's a bad idea. Let's just say….I may or may not have been banned from several dozen casinos."

"Dare I ask why? It's just as well really, but I'm sure it's a fascinating story."

"Long story short: I either kept winning or it was simply a case of wrong place, right time."

"Ah." She nodded sympathetically, stabbing her eggs with her fork. "Well, alright then. Oh! I've got an idea. Have you heard about Arcadia? It's basically this big forest inside of Rapture. All of the oxygen down here comes from there. We could go there. I've been before, but not often-it's more of a couples retreat kind of thing. I don't really think there's anything else surface-like...I mean, aside from that creepy amusement park. I don't wanna go near it. I think there's also Dionysus Park? Later on in the night we can grab a drink at a club, possibly the one I have a gig at. Despite it being owned by Cohen, the drinks there are pretty good."

"That sounds pretty interesting. Arcadia I mean; I heard that the amusement park is basically Ryan stroking his own massive ego."

"You got that right. For now, let's just finish our breakfast and get you some more Rapture appropriate attire. What you've got is good, I just...think it could be better."

"Fair enough, I guess. I just grabbed the least conspicuous thing out of the wardrobe and threw it on. But yeah, let's finish up our breakfast and head out."