A/N: As promised, here is... my AU Booker/Elizabeth! You knew this was coming, didn't you? Set post game. In this AU, Booker and Elizabeth are NOT RELATED IN ANY WAY (lol caps lock). This fic will be pretty tame, mostly fluffy moments between them, nothing explicit. Enjoy. Please, R&R!

From the moment he met her, Booker couldn't keep his eyes off her. And he had good reason not to. Elizabeth was his charge, his ward, his responsibility. The fact she was incredibly beautiful was quite the plus.

When Booker caught sight of her dancing amongst the crowd in Battleship Bay, he was astounded. She moved with such grace, such fluid elegance and motion- yet had been locked up in that tower all her life. How was it possible?

"Dance, with me, Mr. DeWitt!" she had said when he grabbed her shoulder, putting out her small hands and inviting him to take them. Any other moment besides this he would've taken them and taken her for a ride. But- in Columbia, there was no time for rest.

His wife was a good dancer, when she was alive of course. She and Booker had met in a dance hall, as a matter of fact. But that was years ago. Before she became sick and died when Anna was born. Not that Anna lived long enough to mourn with Booker either.

But now Elizabeth became the object of his desire, of his affection. He didn't care about his debt anymore. He wasn't going through with the deal. He would take her to Paris, the city she talked about constantly. Booker would take her day and maybe, just maybe, start over again, together. That is, if she had feelings for him. Booker was not a man who would force someone, let alone a young, naïve girl, to love him.

The men he owed money to were terrifying, but he doubted he could be tracked down to France. If Booker chose to run from his past, he was sure no one would ever find him again. And if Elizabeth would stay with him and finally fulfill his dreams, then great. He and Elizabeth would settle down, learn some French, get married eventually, add a few kids, and everything would be just dandy.

Except now, as Booker sat alone in his New York office, his bourbon bottle sadly devoid of the bitter liquid, Booker realized how quickly this perfect view of life had been shattered.

When Elizabeth tore down Columbia, she purged its dark stain on the universe and erased it from reality. She erased it all, including herself. After all, Comstock was gone forever and she was his daughter. Elizabeth was gone. Gone, just like that. Never again would Booker look into her clear blue eyes, see her beautiful smile, hear her sweet singing, or feel her hand in his…

A knock on his door interrupted his moping. Booker got up from his rickety desk chair and grabbed his Mauser C96 pistol and tucked it into the back of his pants before covering it with his shirt, lest he see someone he didn't want to see.

Indeed he saw someone he didn't want to see. Two of them in fact.

The Lutece twins. Or were they the same person? It made Booker's head hurt thinking about it. They stood on opposite sides of the hallway, tossing a tennis ball back and forth. "Hello, Mr. DeWitt." Rosalind Lutece said. "Still thinking about dear old Lizzie, are we?" her brother or boyfriend or whatever he was Robert added, catching the tennis ball in one hand and tossing it back to Rosalind. Booker didn't say anything, just slammed the door in their faces. He didn't want anyone, not even time traveling inter-dimensional scientists, to disturb his thoughts.

He really didn't know why they were here; he just didn't want anything to do with them, especially after Columbia. When he turned around, they were in his office, still tossing the tennis ball back and forth. "Oh come now, Mr. DeWitt." Rosalind began. "Aren't you at least a little pleased to see us?" Robert said.

"Leave." Booker growled. They looked at each other. "Why?" Robert asked.

"We just want to help." Rosalind said.

Booker glared at them. "How? Are you going to use your quantum physics nonsense to just pull all the happiness out of the fabric of time and space I can handle? Sure." Booker said, sitting back down in his chair. Rosalind rubbed her chin. "I couldn't have said it better myself!" Robert said with a grin.

Booker raised an eyebrow in suspicion. "And how, dare I ask, will that work?"

Rosalind reached into her bag, rummaging around for something. "Tell me, Mr. DeWitt." she asked. "What would you do to get her back?"

Booker's interest was piqued at this question. "What the hell are you talking about?" he snapped.

"Mr. DeWitt, don't be stupid." Robert said. Rosalind pulled out a circular metal contraption from her bag. "I think we can say you want the apple of your eye Elizabeth in your arms right now, true?" she asked him, pushing buttons on the device. "Let's just say…"

"We can help you get her back." Robert said with another grin.