wipeawaythedebt | Loop One

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Loop One

When he wakes up it's slowly, his neck screaming and his mouth tasting the wrong end of a horse. It's a familiar, if somewhat disorienting feeling. The kind of feeling he used to have waking up after a night of gambling at the saloon down the street, after passing out on his desk with a bottle in his hand. But that was before Columbia, before her and last night he can swear he fell asleep in the living room. Still with a bottle of whiskey in his hand and still after gambling away what he should probably be spending on food, but he shouldn't be face-down anywhere. Unless he's fallen off the sofa.

Wouldn't be the first time.

Cracking his eyes open, he blinks in the diffused light. Something's wrong. There's something over the window - shutters? He doesn't have shutters over his windows, just those blinds things. And some curtains Elizabeth bought. He's surprised she didn't take them with her. Maybe she did. Maybe that's why the light hurts. Groaning, he pulls himself upright, blinking as his eyes adjust... and then blinking again. In the gloom he can see a door across from him. An old familiar door with old familiar lettering. He can only see the backside of it, but he knows what it says: Booker DeWitt Investigations into Matters Both Public and Private. His eyes drift down and he can see the papers, New York, 1912.

He's home. Whatever that means.

Straining to his feet, he grabs the nearby, always nearby, bottle and takes a swig, carrying it as he heads to the washroom to relieve himself and splash some water on his face. Was it all a dream? Some kind of drunken hallucination. Whatever it was, he's mostly glad it's gone. The whole thing was a wreck from the minute that man knocked on his door.

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When Alana wakes up, it's on a chair in a lobby she doesn't recognize, body aching from sleeping sitting up. It seems to her like this is something she's got to stop doing, because it keeps resulting in her being places she doesn't mean to be. Except that, this time, she doesn't remember doing it. She certainly doesn't remember falling asleep fully clothed either, or at all.

Bolting to her feet, she begins looking around for some clue to where she is, not entirely expecting to find one. She's about to leave when she spots a familiar name on the list of offices. Booker DeWitt.

It makes as much sense as anything else about this situation, and she quickly makes her way to his office, rapping at the door. Maybe he'll know what's going on, maybe he won't, but a familiar face would be helpful right about now.

Elizabeth had been sleeping herself, tucked away in a corner of the lobby. To say the moments after she woke were filled first with confusion, then fear, was an understatement. But she saw a woman rush off just as she gained her bearings, and all she could think to do was follow after her, especially after glimpsing what she thought might have been an expression of alarm and confusion on her face. An expression, unsurprisingly, she had as well.

After all, it wasn't Columbia (something she was thankful for) and it certainly wasn't Darrow. The last time something like this had happened she'd nearly been killed, and she certainly wasn't going to stay alone when something bad might happen at any moment.

Luckily, it did not take her long to find the woman she'd seen. She thought nothing of announcing her presence.

"Hello?" she called out to the woman in front of the door, standing just at the end of the hallway. "Excuse me?"

Alana doesn't expect anyone to address her. The sound of a voice comes as a shock, and she draws in a sharp breath as she turns away from the door to look at the girl. At least the name on the door is one she knows, even if it doesn't offer any answers. This girl, though, is a different matter entirely.

"Hi," she says. There's no telling what the girl wants. It occur to Alana that this might be about to get even more complicated. Anything the girl might ask right now, she doesn't know the answer to.

Elizabeth had planned basically right up to to the moment she found her. Now she had her attention, and a thought occurred to her that perhaps she had read things wrong. Perhaps she was simply a person living in the building. She hesitated for a long moment before deciding on what to do.

"I seem to be lost," she said, hoping that the statement wouldn't make her sound too mad if she was wrong. "Do you happen to know where we are?"

Alana nearly lets out a sigh of relief. Of course, that the young woman is also lost doesn't mean in the same way, but it does make her feel a little less wary.

"Well, according to the door," she says, lifting her hand to knock, "Booker DeWitt Investigations."

"Booker DeWitt?" she repeated, her eyebrow immediately raising. She hadn't seen him since the day she moved out, and yet - apparently whatever was happening was tied to him? Whatever was going on, she immediately walked over, pausing to read the words on the door herself. She frowned, realizing it very likely meant she'd have to speak to him.

There was a reason she'd been avoiding seeing him, no matter how much she did find herself worrying after him. It seemed as though she had no choice any longer.

"Excuse me," she said politely to the woman, stepping around her to get to the door herself. She knocked on the door herself, loudly calling, "Booker! Open this door right now! It's Elizabeth!"

She never even considered he might be a Booker that didn't know her at all.

He's standing in front of a cracked basin, looking into the even more cracked mirror trying to decide if he actually wanted to run a razor over his face when he hears the pounding at the door. It takes him a minute to place the voice. Usually, it's a demand for money he owes to someone, or some jilted sap he busted during one if his investigations, not... her. Because it's totally wrong. Not here. Not this day. Not this life. She's not here, if the paper's right, she's still in a tower in Columbia with that damn mechanical bird looking over her.

Splashing some more water on his face, he grabs a towel and dries himself as he goes to the door, not really hurrying. They're not on the best of terms, his fault, but that's hardly a surprise. He's not particularly happy to her her pounding on the door in time to his hangover.

The door creaks open and he finds himself staring, "Doc?" Elizabeth's forgotten for the moment when he sees Dr. Bloom. Because if Elizabeth shouldn't be here, she sure as HELL shouldn't be here. What's going on here?

Alana's not sure how to process everything happening right now. It's all very abrupt and she's already disoriented. It's apparent, though, that Booker knows this girl and she knows him. That he also seems to know Alana herself comes as a relief. She's not sure what she would have done if he hadn't.

"Booker," she says, then glances to the girl. "I don't think we've met. Do either of you know how we got here?" That his name is on the door suggests that he, at least, is supposed to be here, but that's more than can be said for the rest of them.

Elizabeth had no idea who the other woman was, but Booker completely ignored her to focus on her instead. It was the sort of action that felt a lot like a slight she didn't deserve, no matter what had happened between them. She frowned, crossing her arms against her chest.

"I was about to ask the same question," she replied, her eyes on Booker. "Booker, where are we?"

"I'm home. I don't know what you two are doing here." He's far too sober for this so he swings the door open and heads back towards his messy desk, knowing that the ladies will either join him or not.

"Welcome to New York, Elizabeth, looks like you ended up here anyway, despite the wrench to my head. Now sure how, since you're supposed to still be in that tower right now." Inside the bottom drawer, there's a bottle and for once, a glass. "Doc, welcome to nineteen-twelve, you wanna drink?"

"Nineteen—" Alana presses a hand to her forehead as she follows him inside, wincing. The fact of life in Darrow at all is beyond bizarre, and she's seen some odd things, but that doesn't make the rest of the oddities seem normal. This, she hardly knows how to wrap her head around. "Yeah, I think I'll have that drink."

She glances over at the girl as she registers what Booker's said. "So you're Elizabeth. I'm Alana. It's... nice to meet you." Aside from the entirety of their circumstances.

Elizabeth had known something was happening. She'd known, but to have apparently gone back in time - a fresh wave of panic hit her nearly immediately.

She never wanted to go back here. Before, it'd been because her past had been something she barely wanted to think about, nevermind return to. But now?

She'd been starting to make a life, away from this all. She drew in a breath to calm herself down. Her gaze shifted from Booker to the other woman, trying not to look worried.

"You're...his doctor," she realized, recognizing the name barely. Booker didn't talk much about the help he was getting, but everything seemed to be tied to him at that point. Looking back at Booker, she asked, "Do you remember the last thing you were doing?"

"I was sleeping. Woke up here, figured Darrow'd had enough of me." Grabbing the bottle, he takes another swig. He's going to need the fortification. "Seems to be a theme."

He doesn't blame Elizabeth for leaving him, but he's not above poking at the open wound. Besides, this is his world, why are they here?

"The same happened to me," Alana says. "I woke up in the lobby downstairs." But if whatever controls Darrow wanted to send her home, it missed by a hundred years, give or take. Maybe it simply doesn't care where she winds up, but she'd bet good money that this isn't even close to being a coincidence. She's here for a reason. They all are.

She looks to Elizabeth. "You were downstairs, too?"

Elizabeth knew the comment was directed at her. And if they were alone, she probably would have retorted back at him. But with Alana in their presence, she refused to feed into it.

Instead, she simply shot him a look before turning her attention back to the woman. She nodded, worrying her lip briefly.

"Yes. I don't know how I got there," she explained. "I noticed you when you were leaving and thought you might at least know where I was, so I followed you."

Before Booker can reply, there's a knock at the door, "Mr. DeWitt? Mr. DeWitt!"

The voice makes him growl because there's no mistaking it, it's that damn Lutece and it figures he's showing up now. It is that day, after all, and he should be off to... rescue the young woman standing in his apartment right now. His day just can't get any worse.

"You two, stay put a second."

Opening the door, he glares at the neatly dressed man. "Come on in, join the partly, Lutece. You're a little late, I've already got the girl."

"Excuse me, Mr. DeWitt, but what are you..." He looks over Booker's shoulder and a smile of genuine delight crosses his face. "How unexpected. That's new."

The name is startlingly familiar, though it takes Alana a moment to process why. Instinctively she steps closer to Elizabeth, half-blocking her. "Booker," she says, cautioning him, though she's not sure of what. She just doubts that handing Elizabeth over is the answer to anything. "She's not just a bargaining chip you can hand off to people. That's not doing a job, it's kidnapping."

The job that sent Booker to her was something she vaguely knew - he didn't really even seem to know himself what they wanted with her. It was that uncertainty that led her to recoil a little at the sight of the all too familiar face. That Alana was quicker to put herself between her and him and Booker hardly seemed to care was something she distantly noted, but for the moment she had far bigger concerns than how they had apparently gotten to the point that he didn't seem to care at all about her.

(And distantly too, she felt foolish worrying about him since she left.)

"I do not suggest you come any closer to me," she warned, eying him warily. He had never done anything to her the few times their paths crossed, but there had to be a reason he wanted her out of Columbia and she would not be used. Never again. "I am not going anywhere."

Gritting his teeth, Booker has to fight the instinct to snap at the doc. He gets is, he does, but did she really think he's gonna turn Elizabeth over just like that? He's not coming off that badly is he? And Elizabeth, Christ, she really thinks he'd just toss her over, after everything he's done to try and keep her safe? He thought they were past that.

Meanwhile, he can hear Lutece go on in the insufferable voice of his, "Really, my dear. Are you entirely certain that you are here? Or are you where you were? Or where you're going to be?" He pauses, almost as if he's waiting for a reply that's not coming. "Where you will have had been?"

"What is that even supposed to mean?" Alana's usually pretty good at keeping her grip on neutrality around patients, but this is different. This is a far cry from anything she's had to deal with before, and it's certainly not a session. Sitting back and following Booker's lead won't get her anywhere here. It doesn't help that this Lutece is incredibly unsettling, and probably would be even if she'd never heard him mentioned before.

His speech was as vague as it always was. She hesitated at the questions, however. The ones he presented made her think of her Tears - of the slight differences each one they stepped in created, making different versions of the same reality. She was here, but maybe she was somewhere else, too.

She knew when it happened, though - when she walked through them after opening it herself. She chose it. She didn't choose this.

"What do you want?" she asked, impatient, not even entertaining him. "Why are you here?"

It was a question she posed to both Booker and he, honestly - it was Booker's office, after all, and he had come looking for him to begin with.

"Why? I'm here to pick Mr. DeWitt up for his job."

Booker snorts and rubs his hand over his eyes, wishing he'd never woken up. This whole thing is just ludicrous. But if there's a chance that Elizabeth's still in that tower, that some version of Elizabeth is still in there... well, he fucked it up once, at least this time he's going with his eyes open.

"Fine, let's go. Let me get my gun, I'll be damned if I'm going up there unarmed this time." He heads back to the desk, trying to catch the eyes of either the doctor or Elizabeth. "You girls stay here. Hopefully this goes better than it was when I left the first time, I'll be back soon."

"No, I'm sorry," Alana says. "I'm not just going to stay here and hope you come back soon to explain." What's in front of him is dangerous and her patience, though plentiful, is not endless. Lutece and the situation both have her spooked more than she'd like to admit anyway. It's almost certainly safer for Elizabeth to stay put, but she'll be just as out of place one way or another.

"You have no idea what's going on, Booker, and you're just telling us to stay here? Absolutely not," she said, looking between him and Lutece with a stern expression. "I'm right here. You have no reason to go along with this any longer, and splitting up might be exactly what we shouldn't do."

"I know exactly what's going on here, that damn city dumped me back here just in time to rescue you again. And maybe do it right this time, without the Vox, without getting chased across the whole damn city and if I can do that, I will." Moving to the desk, he pulls out the gun, hoping like hell that what he just said is the truth. He can do this, he's not going in blind this time, he knows exactly what kind of place Columbia is.

"I won't leave you, any version of you, locked up in that place for Comstock to... do whatever it is he wants with you. I just won't." Turning to Lutece, he points towards the door. "And don't think I'm giving her to you, either."

"But haven't you already? Or won't you eventually? You seem so certain, Mr. DeWitt and yet I wonder."

"Wonder away, Lutece, but we're going and they're staying." Walking past the girls he goes right out the door and everything goes black.

[To be continued HERE.]

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Loop One

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