Author's Note: This (originally a one-shot) story has aspects of my Bioshock Infinite: Unbroken and Song of Sorrow near the end. If you haven't read them yet, I highly suggest reading them first. Also, as with all of my Unbroken stories, spoilers for Bioshock Infinite and Burial at Sea. Reviews and comments would be appreciated.

9/6/17: There is now a timeline of sorts for the various chapters and stories of Unbroken on my profile page, just an attempt to make it a little easier to see what happens when in relation to other chapters.

1920

"Why? Why did it have to end that way?"

Raising his head from his desk, the words he'd mumbled as he woke still echoing in his ears, Booker DeWitt stares blankly ahead at the wall of his office. Four monitors stare back at him, arranged two-by-two with screens displaying only static, almost as if mocking him.

"Still doesn't feel real… even after all this time." Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, still red and irritated from staring at the monitors for so long, Booker glances around the tidy room, his daughter's handiwork no doubt. The setting sun bathed the room in rays of amber and crimson through the pair of west-facing windows looking out onto the city. His desk, a fine dark wood piece, had little cluttering its polished if slightly scuffed surface, aside from the three pictures he'd always kept there, as well as the blocky control panel for the monitors. A half-dozen dials, buttons and a display sat atop its surface, all well-worn from constant use, the labels long since faded away. Not that he needed them anymore; he knew the device's operations by heart.

The walls of his office remain mostly bare, just a few portraits and photographs given by friends along with his 7th Cavalry medals adorning their blue surface. A couch and a few plants sat near the monitors, touches Anna had insisted on long ago, as well as a mirror adjacent to the monitors so he'd see how wretched he looked whenever he got lost in his 'work'. Yet another concession he'd made to his daughter.

Staring into the mirror, he sees a man approaching fifty years; his brown hair sports more than its fair share of gray, his face carries the worry lines of one burdened with responsibility and an equal number from laughter of one blessed with a spirited daughter. He still wears his brown pin-striped suit and maroon tie from his time in office, a brown long coat hanging on the back of his chair.

And finally, as his gaze made a full circuit around the room, he spies the pair of flags in the far corner, nearly hidden in the glare and shadows cast by the setting sun; the flag of the United States of America, and the flag of Columbia.

He leans back in his chair, the well-worn wood creaking almost imperceptibly, thinking back to how this all started. After Wounded Knee and rejecting baptism, he's resolved to build a better future, a better home for everyone and anyone, the guilt over his actions at that massacre becoming the force that drove him on. Using the 'fame' garnered as a hero of Wounded Knee, he'd become a politician and climbed the political ladder in record time. He'd met his wife while campaigning, the only one he could ever be straight with once on this path.

Glancing at the photographs, Booker finds himself tearing up as he looks upon his dearly departed wife. He'd made certain she was interred in Columbia, in the place he'd shared his vision of with her, but she never got to see. Her final resting place is no more than ten minutes away, in a quiet cemetery overlooking the city, in the shade of a red oak. Tearing his gaze away, Booker returns his thoughts to the past, to lobbying for the creation of Columbia.

He'd described it as a home for all, a city founded on the ideals of equality, tolerance and liberty. He had to call in all the favors he'd accumulated, but he finally managed to push the bill through Congress. Despite his success, he only felt anger and bitterness when thinking of that time; he hated building his career on what was done at Wounded Knee, and even worse was that he's certain some of his support came from sympathy over his loss. The thought that Columbia came to be because he'd lost his wife, that his baby girl would never know her mother…

While he left the construction to city planners, industrialists and the scientist Rosalind Lutece, he'd travelled the country, approaching any he considered downtrodden and offering them a place in his city. His first stop was the Lakota Sioux reservation, the guilt he'd harbored since Wounded Knee demanding nothing less.

Booker still remembers conversing in their native tongue, glad that his heritage had prepared him for that moment, that his parents had insisted he learn the language. Columbia had become a beacon for the nation, in no small part due to the multicultural society the city fostered. The city wasn't a paradise, though he never truly thought such a thing possible; crime existed here as it did any major city, and though the well-trained police force could handle much, it was impossible to entirely stamp it out. Even so, he was proud of his city, his people, and was proud to raise Anna here.

A smile appears as Booker thinks of his daughter. She'd grown into a fine, lovely woman, despite being brought up by him alone; kind, compassionate, possessing an intelligent mind and a sharp wit. And, much to his chagrin, she could handle herself quite well in a scuffle. Her tomboyish personality through much of her childhood got her into quite a few scraps, that particular trait he was certain she'd inherited from him. She truly was a DeWitt, through and through.

These past few years he rarely got to see her, despite still living in the same house; she had become quite the socialite, and most of her time she spent at galas, meetings, and helping around the city. Her photo stares back at him, right next to her mother's, the camera managing to catch a twinkle in her eyes as she smiled. She still left her dark brown hair long and loose, only keeping a brush on her nightstand to care for it, though her preference for simplicity didn't carry over to her choice of dresses and makeup.

Most of Columbia's citizens believed she would be a shoo-in for a seat on the Council, following in his footsteps, but so far she'd resisted any suggestions to do so. She'd turned out as strong-willed as he, and truth be told he couldn't be happier that she wanted to find her own path. As he gazes at the pictures, his smile fades as he settles on the third and final photograph. He'd taken this one to commemorate a meeting no more than a couple months ago, he and a girl depicted behind the glass pane. A girl the very image of Anna, but her eyes look anything but joyous.

A year ago, Lutece had called him to her lab, shortly after his retirement party. She'd been refining her Trans-Dimensional Device and said she had something to show him, something she didn't want to burden him with while still on the Council. Through the Lutece Field, he saw another Columbia and the man who leads it: Prophet Zachary Comstock. She showed him other Columbias, then other Booker DeWitts. When she showed him the origin of those cities, a lump began to form in his throat.

He saw how the other Bookers struggled with their guilt over Wounded Knee, rejecting the baptism as he did. But instead of pushing past the guilt, the Bookers were trapped by it, spiraling into a pit of alcoholism and gambling debts. The only glimmer of similarity to his own life was in the woman he married and the daughter they bore. He had to look away when that Booker's wife passed at childbirth, unable to watch, only turning back when Rosalind had whispered that she was gone.

Rosalind showed him how Comstock took Anna from Booker, every time without fail. He saw the kind of place Comstock's Columbia became, a far cry from his peaceful city. Hate, prejudice, persecution, slavery, fanaticism… everything he'd rejected as evil. These Columbias, these Comstocks… they were anathema to him.

He watched how Anna would grow up to become Elizabeth; an idealistic girl locked in a tower and denied even the slightest human contact, her only companionship coming from a giant, monstrous bird creature, her warden more than anything else. Even with such an upbringing, he still saw so much of his Anna in the girl, aside from the physical similarities; her intelligence, her sense of humor, her slightly cocky grin when something seemed a bit off. He reeled as he learned who Comstock truly was. And that was when he realized; his world, his city and he himself, all are anomalies, exceptions rather than the rule. That he was the only Booker DeWitt to escape the cycle of exploitation, suffering and blood.

Lutece had shown him these worlds with her latest breakthrough, an advanced Lutece Device, the Trans-Dimensional Quantum Tunneling Array. At the time, she'd tried to explain how the device operated, but he was no scientist or other learned academic; most of her explanation received little more than a blank stare. Then she gave it to him in simple terms: this device could generate Lutece Fields with a degree of accuracy in any universe, though the accuracy degraded the more removed the target reality was.

She bequeathed it to him, and when he'd objected, she just shook her head; she was leaving Columbia in search of her other half, whom she still had not found. Before he knew it, she had the machine installed in his basement behind thick walls and solid security doors, images from the device's Lutece Fields fed directly to the monitors in his office. Tear technology is a closely guarded secret in Booker's Columbia, for fear of it being misused, and Rosalind made absolutely sure to teach him everything he needed to know about the device before destroying her research and disappearing. Her warning about never attempting a Tear to another Columbia still sticks with him.

With observing the multiverse at his fingertips, he'd begun his vigil. Knowing he was the only Booker to live happily with his daughter left him pained, something akin to survivor's guilt beginning to occupy his mind. So he would watch, watch as the Luteces brought other Bookers to Columbia, time and time again.

With each attempt, he kept track of what changed and what stayed the same, which elements of these nightmares existed in his own Columbia. Of all these constants, he noticed a certain figure who'd helped build Columbia in every instance; Jeremiah Fink, a weasel of a man he'd disliked since their first meeting. He and the Council kept Fink on a short leash, and now that he saw what this man had wrought in the other realities, Booker knew they'd made the right choice.

He watched each of their journeys, his heart soaring whenever he saw Booker reach Elizabeth, only to be crushed when he failed. It hurt him each time, seeing Booker fall and Elizabeth be taken, but those weren't the only painful moments. The realization of how cruel the world around her truly is, the loss of innocence when she was forced to kill the Vox Populi leader Daisy Fitzroy, the torture Comstock inflicted upon her, those especially tore at him.

Booker wanted to help, to intervene in some way, but couldn't take the risk; Lutece had explained that their world was apart enough so random Tears wouldn't reach it, but not so different as to be distinguishable, so long as no Tears were opened to any of these worlds. The machine wasn't designed to open Tears, but in theory it could, but that would only draw his world closer to these twisted reflections. He couldn't risk the people of his city being drawn into a conflict with the zealots and monsters of these Columbias, and above all else he couldn't risk his Anna. Who knows what Comstock would do if he saw her.

Finally, after so many attempts, one Booker was successful. He felt a grim smile pulling at the corner of his mouth as Booker got his hands on Comstock. He'd practically jumped out of his chair and cheered when they destroyed the Siphon, and had to search the multiverse again when Booker and Elizabeth disappeared from Columbia. He finally found them in a place he recalled all too well; the river and the baptism he'd fled from.

The joy he'd felt turned somber as he watched the Elizabeths take hold of Booker's arms, his other self quietly accepting his fate, sacrificing himself to save his daughter from ever being taken by Comstock. This Booker's final words stuck with him, something he'd feared of himself ever since he'd lain eyes on the various Bookers and Comstocks, "I'm both."

And then he saw the last Elizabeth fall to her knees in the gently flowing water, her shoulders shaking as she sobbed and screamed her guilt and sorrow, her tears joining with the river as it slowly carried her Booker away. His heart went out to her, Booker wanting to comfort her more than anything else in the world. But before he could call out to her, to strengthen the Lutece Field enough to speak to Elizabeth, she was gone.

He spent the next couple months searching the multiverse for her, seeing the Bookers and Annas reunited, and he remembers finally smiling for the first time since learning of them. Elizabeth had broken the cycle, and his vigil was nearly at an end. And what was her reward? He didn't know, but he could only imagine her alone, still grieving for her father, hurting for what she had to do.

Then he found her. She'd tracked down the last Comstock, another anomaly like him that wasn't born from the baptism. He looked on as she tried to stop Comstock, stop him from trying to take Anna as he fought with another Booker over her. He still remembers the strangled cry he'd loosed when the Tear closed around Anna's neck.

He'd fallen back in his chair, unable to tear his gaze from the monitors, watching that Booker wail as he held his daughter's corpse to his chest. Elizabeth had disappeared again, but this time he managed to find her, somehow; she lay on the cut stone of a lighthouse, amid a sea of lighthouses. She cried and moaned over losing Anna, he empathizing with their pain and grief, and her anger at Comstock. But more than for this Booker, he felt for Elizabeth; among her tears, he saw her clutching at her throat, pain twisting her beautiful face. He remembers how his jaw dropped as he realized that she'd felt what Anna had.

As he stumbled from his office that day, intent on putting as much distance between himself and the scene he'd left on the monitors, his mind settled on one simple fact; she was alone. He'd thought he and his world were alone in these infinite universes, none other like it in all the multiverse, but at least he had Anna and the people who live here. Elizabeth had nothing, no one and no place to call her own; she was truly alone in the infinite. He knew she could see all the doors, behind all the doors, and wondered if she ever saw him.

He got his answer the next day. He'd just taken his seat behind his desk when a Tear opened before him, Elizabeth stepping through and staring at him with hate in her eyes. She thought he was Comstock, this he was sure of, both of them silent as she approached. He had so many things he'd wanted to say to her, but as she stopped before his desk, he managed to stammer the only words that mattered.

"I'm not Comstock." Leaning back in his chair, he whispers the words he'd half-shouted months ago. The words had stopped Elizabeth in her tracks, the hand she was raising to either stab accusingly at him or open a Tear hanging there. He'd shown her the picture of Anna on his desk, asked her to look into his past to see the truth for herself.

As realization dawned on Elizabeth's face, all the anger and hatred left her, leaving behind only a worn out, traumatized and emotionally drained nineteen-year old girl. He would never forget how vulnerable she appeared; for all the power she wielded, all her sight, she was still a young woman who'd lost everything she'd held dear. He asked her to stay, to let him show her the city.

Elizabeth refused at first, but he insisted, saying a day wouldn't make much of a difference, that she looked tired and could use the rest. She didn't bat an eyelash when he called her by name, just wearily nodded her acceptance as he donned his brown long coat.

He showed her around his Columbia, taking her to all the sights as only he could. A chuckle escapes him as he recalls the murmurs of the citizens, seeing him with a girl who looked a younger Anna. They went to the streets and shops in Emporia, and to the Capital building at its heart. He enjoyed the surprise on her face when he introduced her to Councilwoman Fitzroy and Police Chief Slate, both of them in the know on Tears and both she'd encountered in the other worlds. In particular she lingered on Daisy, Booker certain she was remembering planting a pair of scissors in her back.

On the way out, he explained that Columbia was a semi-autonomous district of the United States, and was governed by a Council of elected officials. That he'd been called Founder DeWitt for creating the city, and that he was on the council until he retired last year. That there was no military here, no Prophet, no False Shepherd or Lamb. No insane cult or prophecy of Armageddon. No Handymen or Songbird, and no Vigors.

Booker walked with her throughout the city, Elizabeth seeing with her own eyes how different his Columbia was from Comstock's. The free communal housing and comforts for the poor, the influx of tourists arriving by airship from the lands below, and the peace and happiness all enjoyed here. Once Elizabeth had seen all that she cared to, he took her back home and introduced her to Anna.

Remembering how his daughter's face lit up when she saw Elizabeth, watching Anna with her younger self, Booker could easily see them as sisters, and hoped she'd taken some comfort in their meeting. But as he looked upon them, he knew otherwise; he saw the sadness in her eyes, and realized he'd only reminded her of everything she'd never had and everything she lost; a home, a family, a normal life, her father and only friend. To her, Columbia will always be a cage, a hell in which she only ever suffered, no matter how different his was from the one she'd grown up in.

As Elizabeth made to leave, Anna had insisted she get some rest and spirited her away, Booker following only to find the door to his daughter's bedroom ajar. Despite her protests, Elizabeth fell fast asleep as Anna tucked her in, his daughter staying by her side as she sang softly to her 'sister'.

Through his vigil, Anna had learned what had become of her other selves, had felt the pain he did as they saw the fate awaiting the girls. She'd told him that she had nightmares, of herself in Elizabeth's place, how much she felt for her. And now that she was here, Booker saw that Anna had every intention of comforting the younger woman. He left Elizabeth in Anna's care, returning to his office until their young visitor awoke several hours later.

At the end of the day, they stood atop Monument Lighthouse, watching the sun dip below the horizon. He'd chuckled when she muttered 'always a lighthouse, always a man, and always a city', explaining the lighthouse was a beacon in a storm for anyone who wished safe harbor here, and as such symbolized this Columbia. The lighthouse doubled as the Visitor's Center, originally where rockets carrying immigrants had landed, though now that airships made the journey instead it had fallen out of use.

Booker feels fresh tears forming as he remembers the look on her face when he spoke next, "I know I'm not your Booker, but Anna and I still care for you. You'll always be welcome. You can stay if you want, there will always be a place for you here." Even as he said the words, he knew she would never come back; Columbia would always be a reminder of a painful part of her life, as was he of what she had lost.

Knowing he'd never see her again, he'd insisted they at least take a picture together, the same picture that now sat on his desk right beside Anna's. They'd taken it right then and there, the light of the setting sun bathing her in its radiance, contrasting the depths of her blue eyes and the weariness within. As she opened a Tear to leave, he'd called out to her, letting her know that he'd check in on her.

She turned to him before stepping through, a small smile appearing on her lips as she mouthed the words, "I know." Watching her leave, he could only imagine that this must be like losing a daughter, that this must be what those other Bookers felt. After witnessing her suffering, he just wanted to keep her warm and safe. He had no idea how wrong he was.

He'd continued his vigil, watching over her as she arrived in Rapture. He also began searching for the other Booker, the other him that had lost his daughter, but all he found was an abandoned office, an empty noose hanging from the fan.

Anna would join him on occasion after Elizabeth had left, disappointed that she hadn't gotten the chance to know her better or to say goodbye. Together, they watched her arrive in Rapture, and worked both to fit in and prepare for her confrontation with Comstock. They watched as she performed a song to the satisfaction of some insane artist, both feeling the sorrow she'd poured into her music. Then something changed. Sobbing on her bed, a Tear opened, enveloping her and throwing the Lutece device for a loop. When it finally stabilized, his breath caught in his throat; another Booker sat on her bed, stroking her hair and humming. He remembers Anna slowly rising, a smile appearing.

The Tear closed as suddenly as it opened, drawing the other Booker away, both he and Anna sharing a sigh of relief; Elizabeth had picked herself up from the bed, a smile on her face, the sorrow tempered by what he thought looked like hope.

But the relief didn't last. She'd returned to Rapture after killing Comstock, and had lost much of what she was. Just a normal girl with a normal finger, alone in a city filled with psychopaths and monsters. Somehow he knew she wouldn't remember him, but the hurt of that realization paled when her journey suddenly came to an end. Ended by a monster with a wrench. Now he truly knew the pain the other Bookers experienced as he watched her pass, the smile that appeared as she died breaking his heart.

That was a week ago. Anna had found him mumbling while asleep at his desk, piecing together what had happened from his unconscious ramblings, and now spent every day with him since. She'd liked Elizabeth, and shed tears of her own for the girl she never really got the chance to know. Both mourned her in his office, for the girl who never got to go home, never had a chance to live her own life.

Hesitantly, he reaches for the controls, the hiss of the static fading away. Though his vigil was over, nothing more to be done or seen, he just couldn't bring himself to turn off the device for good. Each screen flickered, static giving way to show Elizabeth's corpse, Booker shuddering as he lays eyes on her. A trio of melted candles lay nearby, a rose placed in her hand. He wonders if any of the other Bookers sensed what was lost, knew how much of their happiness was owed to this poor girl who died alone and forgotten. Checking the controls, he sees that only a couple of hours had passed in Rapture.

And then he appears. A Booker hobbles up to Elizabeth's corpse, falling to his knees before her.

"Wh-what? How?"

Lurching forward in his seat, he stares in disbelief as this Booker cries his heart out for her, cradling her in his arms, he watching as the Little Sisters and Big Daddy return. Booker watches the exchange between his other self and the Little Sister Sally, between him and the Big Daddy, and finally as this Booker steps into another Tear.

"Go... go!"

"Father? What's the matter?"

He barely hears Anna's voice or her stepping into the office, rising slowly as he watches Booker tear into the monster and his men. Both he and Anna hold their breath as they watch Booker struggle with Atlas, despite the broken arm and the injuries they can plainly see. And they finally cheer as Elizabeth embraces her Booker, father and daughter doing the same as their other selves work their way out of Rapture, the male Lutece guiding them.

He finds himself smiling, the first genuinely happy moment he'd allowed himself since Elizabeth had come to his city as she and her Booker step through a final Tear, leaving Rapture and all the monsters within for good. And now, they are going home.

Stepping from behind his desk, switching the monitors off as he goes, Booker retrieves a bottle of brandy and a pair of tumblers from a drawer. Glancing out the window, Booker chuckles; midnight had long since passed, feeling the early hours of the morning in his bones, but he felt better than he had this past year. The vigil is over, all is right with the world. Pouring two helpings of brandy, Booker hands a glass to Anna before raising his to the full moon, his daughter joining him.

"For Elizabeth and Booker, father?" Anna raises her glass to his, the clink of the tumblers tapping against each other ringing in the silent night.

"Yeah. Wherever you are, Elizabeth, I'm glad you're home."

Closing words: Hi there, I hope you enjoyed this little idea I had. After Burial at Sea episode 1, I had a thought: if the Comstock we saw there wasn't invalidated by Booker's sacrifice in Infinite, he must have been born without the baptism. An anomaly, as I stated. If so, couldn't there be a single Booker who went on to build Columbia, while staying true to himself?

This is the first side story I've written to flesh out the story around Unbroken, and in this case to fill in a bit of the gap between the end of Infinite and when Elizabeth went to Rapture. Thank you for reading.