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Considering what he did to you, I cannot blame you for not seeing anything beyond. Sometimes there really isn't anything underneath the surface and a madman really is just a madman. But sometimes madmen also have their reasons. I don't exactly condone the many, many crimes Erik has committed but I forgive him for them. He's more than the horrible things he's done. Did Booker ever hurt you?

And I only had to deal with him for two months; part of his following, The Artist's Struggle. I wasn't even his main fixation; poor, poor Fitzpatrick... and, the handful of men before him.

[Look at you Liz, charming the gay.]

I would say Cohen defined himself by his sins; I'm not sure he was capable of a single act of kindness. It sounds like your Erik is at least a better man than he.

We all have some blood on our hands, after all.

[ouch, right in the feels.]

Yes, he did.

But he did everything he could to undo it. Even though the cost was high. He paid his debt.

Two months too many, by the sound of it. Did anyone ever manage to stop this man? Seems like the sort of terror that ought to be stopped.

[And Erik's Opera Ghost antics weren't...? Christine, shut your mouth.]

I believe that Erik tried to define himself that way, for a time. As if it would...protect him. Treading some invisible line of what makes a man, what makes a monster. But yes. That we certainly do.

[look at all the pain in this conversation so much pain omg]

The more and more I learn about Booker, the more similar our stories become, my dearest Elizabeth. In the end, Erik tried to make sure I'd live a life in the light, tried to undo the damage he did. Clearly, it didn't work too well.

Not as far as I know. I... sort of had a hand in the destruction of the city where he lived, but I never actually heard of his death. Wouldn't surprise me if he was still kicking around. That's a much nicer thought than Cohen showing up here.

This was my cover to investigate him. I think he may have even been suspicious, but he still did what I needed him to do.

I've watched someone toe that line; it's not the easiest thing.

[Elizabeth ponders a few long moments. There are ways in which her friend's almost-husband sounds like Cohen... but there are ways in which he sounds like Booker, too. She can't see through The Doors anymore, but that doesn't mean she can't pick up on the patterns of the multiverse.

So, there may be a small chance...]

Did it cost him his life to try and save you?

[That being the price Booker paid.]

If he did show up here, perhaps we could take him down? Show him what songbirds like us can really do.

[Well, that just hit a bit close to home, didn't it.]

In a way, I suppose. He had been ill for a long time. There's no way to say for certain that he would have lived longer if I had stayed at his side. There's some part of me though, that suspects his death might have partly been suicide. Seeing no point in living on once ai had gone... It's not a conversation we've had the opportunity to engage in, yet. Nor do I think I wish to have it. But I do know, without a doubt, that Erik would have paid any price to ensure my happiness. Even if that meant a fate worse than death.

Here's hoping he doesn't; that man makes my skin crawl. Though I think the pair of us could handle him... depending on just how spliced and wild he got while the city drowned around him.

I'd rather not be put in a situation that would determine the answer.

['Seeing no point in living with you gone.' Ouch, that drove a sudden spike of unwanted emotion through Elizabeth's chest. She hasn't-- doesn't think overly on her death, but those words seem to frame it all too well.]

No, I understand; it's not exactly a light topic for casual discussion [There is a fine line between sympathy and empathy and Elizabeth is far into the prior, too bitter not to understand completely.]

Sounds like he really loves you.

[Right. In the. Fucking. Feels. For a while she thinks she will leave it at that, but even after she sends the message, one thoughts restlessly prowls her mind. She's never told anyone this... but there's never been anyone she trusts enough to tell. Part of her is... frightened to put the thoughts to words, but maybe... Maybe Christine is the only one who might possibly understand]

I know what that feels like, Chris.

He let me kill him.

Booker let me kill him, so that I would be safe.

Edited 2017-05-08 21:34 (UTC)

[She had been about to send off a message when she got the second one and...Oh.

Well, then. She'll just be deleting the message she had been about to send.

It's not quite the same but it's yet again enough to stab Christine through the chest and make her ache. Before responding to Liz, she takes a moment to text Erik out of a sudden need to remind him of her feelings. ( "Bonsoir, my love. I hope that you've had a pleasant day. Je t'adore. <3)

But then her attention is fully back to Liz.]

It's quite the burden to bear, isn't it. And you never thought you were worth that sort of sacrifice. But it's not our place to decide what we are worth to someone else. We'll find him, Elizabeth. And when we do, he will be so proud of you.

It is... even if his death paid me a debt he owed. I didn't want to kill him... I tried to stay behind, but I still remember him drowning in that god damn river.

He knew it was the only way. But I miss him. I miss him so much.

I hope you're right

[And then, a few notes softer and almost ashamed:]

I hope you're right

I've developed a bit of an obsession with Erik's heartbeat. Whenever we're together, I always find myself trying to touch him in a way where I can feel it or hear it. Because I was there the exact moment that it stopped. Of all the things that should haunt me, that's what I have nightmares about.

[She just barely forces herself not to choke on those words.]

Booker misses you, too, I'm sure. And from the sounds of it, I'm willing to bet he's looking for you, too. Life is only temporary, after all.

Just have faith. Doesn't even have to be in any sort of God. Can just be the faith in yourself that you'll never lose sight of what you desire.

Some call it fate or destiny or what have you but in all honesty, fate favors the tenacious.

We'll find him.

I'm not sure; he might not even believe that I'm here. I think... I think it might actually upset him.

He wouldn't want me to be here, especially knowing that I have another option.

But I guess that doesn't matter, because as you say, you and I won't stop searching.

You know, you're pretty sweet when you want to be, Chris.

The narrow definitions of Heaven and Hell that this plane of existence tries to force on us are ridiculous.

Heaven and Hell are not places, they are states of mind. The where doesn't really matter in the end. Only you can choose where you get to go. You make your own Heaven, you make your own Hell.

Thanks, though I'm not really trying. Just...imparting some of my old lady wisdom. If you can call it that.

Can't disagree; it's why you and I are here, after all. No true heaven exists for us, without the people we love.

Old, you? Now I know you're fishing. [slight tease]

Oh, come on. If you count the years I've been dead, I'm probably twice your age.

Not that I act like it, most of the time.

Existence is so much more fun when you're not always a grumpy, old curmudgeon.

Time starts to lose its relevance when you start taking portals through it.

Good company doesn't hurt, either.

Time starts to lose its relevance when you have an unlimited supply. Or so we're told.

Point taken.

Who ever believes everything thier told?

Angels that stay in Heaven, that's who.

Yeah, they are not my favorite people.

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