Hello! Sorry for the major delay.

As always, I apologise now if there are some grammatical mistakes. Also for the French within this chapter, I hope it makes sense; it was the best that Google Translate had to offer.

Also *denotes* a song. I've tried and tried but couldn't get a musical note into the text.

Hope you enjoy the Epilogue!

"There is no escape now False Shepard." Comstock's grizzled undertone could rouse fear even in the toughest of men.

Booker's eyes flung open, a searing heat burned his vision causing him to narrow them to the smallest of slits; he could just make out Comstock's shadow standing over him. Fear compelled his muscles to move but to no avail, his arms had been strapped down into an iron chair; Comstock was roaring with laughter at Booker's helpless struggle.

"Ever defiant till the end DeWitt, but alas I am afraid that your demise is at hand".

From underneath his dark cloak Comstock slowly brandished a straight razor-sharp dagger, as he unsheathed the blade he allowed his arm to flow gently down to his side where it settled, making sure that Booker got a long hard look at the dangerous instrument.

"The Lord forgives everything" Comstock's grey steely gaze was fixed on Booker's. He grabbed a fistful his waistcoat with his left hand and leaned over him, his eyes bulging. "But I'm just a Prophet" A sinister smile that crept across Comstock's face showed aged and yellow teeth. "So I don't have to; Amen"

With that final word and with his right hand he plunged the knife towards Booker's chest.

Booker woke with a start drenched in a cold sweat, his heart was beating furiously. Frantically looking around, his mind started to refresh him of earlier events. He had made it off Colombia, that god-forsaken place. The Mad Prophet Zachary Comstock was no more, dead at the hand of Robert Lutece and with the assistance of his twin sister Rosalind. He had saved the Girl from the Tower.

With the threat of the dream fading quickly that final thought was the catalyst of a huge surge in elation for Booker. Looking around he saw that he was aboard a Zeppelin, the faint hum of its propellers in the background; mercifully this was one minus any man or machine that wanted him dead. Arising slowly from his position he found he was covered by a lengthy blanket; its grey expanse disturbed only by a small repair of red fabric towards the top left hand corner.

Booker shrugged off the blanket and rose from the makeshift bed-cum-sofa. As his weight shifted down to his legs an intense pain shot up through, pulsating from the ball of his right foot straight up to his lower back, he found himself keeling back onto the soft press-studded material of the chair.

Inside the cockpit of the rigid airship Elizabeth was busily attending to her midnight dress. She had set the coordinates for 48.8567° N, 2.3508° E as soon as they had boarded the vessel and after that the machine needed very little direction; of course she would keep a close eye on it but it did marvel her the wonders of modern aviation. This was despite the fact that normality for her had consisted of a gigantic metal bird and a floating city.

It all still seemed either a ridiculous dream or an even more ludicrous reality, she was finally going to see Paris through her own eyes, not from some painting or black and white image.

Not only that but she wasn't going to be experiencing it on her own either.

Without warning Elizabeth's cheeks blossomed slightly as Booker DeWitt floated dreamily into her memory. She didn't care anymore though, she knew she cared for him deeply and that he reciprocated those feelings as well. For the first time in a long while, not since she was a girl, she felt truly alive.

For a while she continued to tend to her dress, her deft fingers making easy work of repairing the worn garment. After a couple of hours of nothing but the engines to break the silence Elizabeth heard a pained groan from the other room followed by a large thud, the noise caught her off guard which nearly caused her to spike herself with the needle. She quickly dropped the instrument which was left dangling by her thigh, still attached by the repair material and briskly walked towards the door.

Booker was trying to get up again, a focused expression on his face, he had managed to nearly raise himself but was relying heavily on a dresser that was next to him and his arms to keep him vaguely upright. He glanced towards the door when he heard the creaking of its hinges and immediately some of the pain seemed to subside.

"Hey" Booker said softly as Elizabeth emerged from the large door, he realised that she must have been disturbed by his loud movements. "Sorry, I hope I didn't wake you." He realised just how foolish he must have looked to her now.

For a moment Elizabeth was lost for words, she still had much to learn concealing feelings and emotions that for many were learnt and nurtured from a young age. Seeing Booker missing his trademark waistcoat and replaced with his toned chiselled physique in its place caused her stomach to do a backflip.

"Oh..uhh.. s..sorry Booker" Elizabeth managed to stutter, taking an uncommon interest in the floor just beside her, staring at it as though her life depended on it.

While it was a curse for Elizabeth to be read so easily, for Booker it was somewhat of a blessing.

"Oh right" He was still gently trying to put more and more pressure on his feet but sadly getting nowhere. "Sorry, I'll grab my..." Booker trailed off as he frantically searched around the room for something to cover him.

"No don't" Came Elizabeth's reply, as soon as the words had escaped her mouth she wished she could take them back. Her cheeks burned furiously, contrasting against her creamy skin and her blue pools widened in shock.

Booker's soft verdant stare focused on her, a hint of shock was clear in his expression; he certainly hadn't expected that kind of request from Elizabeth.

"Ok" He replied simply.

"I..I mean you don't have to" She tried to continue as best she could. "You wouldn't want to aggravate your injuries any more than they already are, the last thing you want is for them to get infected." Elizabeth sighed inwardly, thankfully quick thinking had stopped her from embarrassing herself even further; she started to close the distance between herself and The False Shepard.

"You still should be resting Booker, I can wake you when we have arrived." She sat down on the edge of the seat that Booker had originally been resting on; her bootless legs dangling just slightly from the ground.

Booker slowly made his way back towards Elizabeth; she was right of course. He could quite easily injure or damage himself whilst he was in this fragile state; he rather clumsily sat back down onto the bed. Having misjudged where he would end up Booker was now inches away from Elizabeth, he could just make out small details on her smooth skin and that familiar scent of her filled his mind. Her potency had certainly not been dimmed since their first meeting.

Without thinking he leaned forward and planted a gentle kiss on her cheek. A small gasp escaped from Elizabeth's mouth.

"Shouldn't one of us be flying this airship or at least be in the cockpit?" Booker said smiling coyly. Pausing for a moment he continued "Just make sure you wake me up ok?"

It was a few moments before Elizabeth replied. "O..Of course" She said still taken slightly aback at the spontaneity of Booker .

"Just make sure you rest up" She smiled sweetly before getting up and slowly moving back towards the cockpit.

"I will" Booker murmured as the wooden door closed behind her. He settled himself back into the plush seat and pulled the forgotten blanket back over himself.

"I will" He repeated once more as he closed his eyes and allowed the familiar hum of the engines to return to his slumber; thankfully bereft of any Mad Prophets.

BANG

A loud crash caused Booker to wake with a start. Instinctively his body forced his torso upright, as he was about to spring from bed his mind refocused and he realised he was not in any imminent danger.

Elizabeth was stood across the floor from him, she had frozen in the place just above what was the catalyst for the noise. A small antique vase, off white in colour with a small red ribbon laced around the neck lay in pieces around her toes.

For a few moments time seemed to freeze, nothing moved and no sound was heard. The two companions eyes locked for the briefest of moments before Elizabeth broke the contact, she wore a look of worry. Booker, now wide awake, rubbed the sleep from his vision.

"Sorry..." Elizabeth said quietly not wanting to raise her voice for fear of something else coming down. "I didn't mean to..." She started again but words failed her, as she started to move Booker's raised voice stayed her.

"Hey!" He called getting out of his makeshift bed, Elizabeth stood as still as she could not daring to move an inch. Worry bubbled up through her chest, she felt terrible for disturbing Booker; especially after all the trouble he had gone to protecting her on Columbia.

By this point Booker had closed the gap between them and was by her slender legs gently gathering the broken pieces of the vase into his palms.

"Sorry about that, I didn't mean to startle you" She faintly heard him mumble, after a moment he stood up before her, his broad stature towering above her sleight frame and his hands cupped in front of him full of the broken item.

"I just didn't want you catching yourself on the broken pieces is all." Booker continued motioning to the pieces by moving his hand upwards slightly. It was the first time Elizabeth had ever seen Booker with a sheepish expression.

Relief surged through Elizabeth, eradicating any niggling feelings of worry she had moments ago. She relaxed slightly allowing herself to fall back into a far more natural position with both of her feet on the floor and her arms crossed; hugging her shoulders.

"Thank you Booker, I'll try to be more careful next time."A slight smile formed on her lips. "You know" She said looking down towards the ceramic debris in Booker's hands. "I've read enough books to know that's not really the safest way to clean up sharp objects."

"You an' your books" Booker retorted "Is there anything they haven't taught you?"

"Well..."Elizabeth paused slightly before moving stray lock from her fringe and smirking. "No I don't think so."

"Well ain' that the truth" Booker allowed himself a chuckle.

"Now come on, let's get this cleaned up." Elizabeth said as she searched for something to dispose of the vase. Excitement flared inside her, she couldn't wait to get off the airship and be rid of it.

Finally after years and years of waiting she was in the city that she had dreamed of since she was a little girl; Paris beckoned.

The two companions safely landed the Zeppelin onto the airfield. the only problem came from a rather short and portly air-traffic controller named Patrice Lauvignon who was balding despite the fact that he was only in his mid 30s. He had waddled across the strip whilst they were securing the craft and shouted at them.

"Hé vous! Vous ne pouvez pas quitter ce dirigeable là!" He had screamed, his cheeks the shade of carmine.

Elizabeth had to force her petite frame between her protector and Patrice to stop Booker from causing a scene. After many heated words Booker had thrown the keys to Patrice and walked off. Elizabeth made her apologies as best as she could in French and then departed after Booker, leaving Patrice stood in the middle of the airstrip, his cheeks not quite as wild as they were considering the fact he had been given their craft.

Elizabeth caught up to Booker, he had one medium size worn leather bag swinging in his right hand which contained all of the pairs possessions combined. Booker's faithful hand cannon with some loose ammunition, a small amount of food, money and fresh water; Elizabeth's white blouse, neckerchief and skirt completed the inventory.

"I'm guessing you had a fairly good idea about what that fella was saying?" Booker queried.

"He was curious as to why we were leaving it in the middle of the airstrip, I don't think it's a common place for them to be left" Elizabeth replied.

"Well as long as he didn't insult you then we have an' understanding." Booker stated matter-of-factly.

Once again Elizabeth felt her heart leap, it was little comments like that from Booker that made her head spin. With growing confidence she gently slipped her hand around his left bicep and the two walked content in each other's company for a while.

"There's gonna be a few things that you won't have seen before." Booker said, in the distance he could make out the compacted grey line of a road, snaking it's way into the heart of the city; though he would never admit it openly Booker feared that it wouldn't be as wonderful as Elizabeth had envisioned.

"Just stick close to me an' i'll do my best to get you up to speed."

Elizabeth didn't reply, instead she scooted closer and rested her head on Booker's shoulder.

It was an afternoon like Elizabeth had never experienced. The bustling city was everything she imagined and more. Small shops and businesses lined the main streets with people filling every small open space. Children gayly played in the park with not a care in the world whilst no less than 10 feet away men in sharp suits were wading through the torrent of people, getting to an important meeting and discussing topics that would surely change the world. It was a stark contrast from Columbia in which everything had a false air about it.

Booker had done his best to explain things that piqued Elizabeth's interest, which in the current climate was pretty much everything. He ran through from Apple trees to Zebra's in the Paris Zoo. She had lapped up every word and story he had to tell; her mind enthralled.

It hadn't always been Booker leading the expedition though, on occasion he had to rely on Elizabeth's knowledge of the French language to assist them when having to buy food. While her accent wasn't perfect from having never heard it spoken before it was more than sufficient. Although what Booker ended up with he didn't know as Elizabeth never told him.

"As long as you like it, then surely that is all that matters?" She had told him, raising her eyebrows and a smirk playing on her lips.

As the day drew on the sun was now disappearing every so often behind buildings, casting long shadows across the pavement. Booker and Elizabeth sat on a wooden bench just outside a small butchers shop. The sound of a hard brush being pushed along the floor by his assistant could be heard as the owner counted the days takings behind the large wooden carving board. He was dropping the rounded coins rather forcefully into the till. Sadly the days takings had not been fruitful.

It was interrupted only by the call of a herd of geese far off in the distance and the neighing of a horse running the Villette-St-Sulpice horse-drawn omnibus line. Elizabeth was still alert, watching everything with awe with the slight fear that if she closed her eyes it would all be a dream and she would wake up back in her dreaded tower. Booker on the other hand had his eyes closed. However he still had a protective arm around Elizabeth's shoulder.

With the waning of the warmth from the sun, a slight breeze was picking up. This wasn't one that you would expect to find in winter that caused you to batten down your coat and huddle into it, more so like a autumnal zephyr that just chilled you slightly through your summer/autumn attire.

As Elizabeth wore only an ultramarine jacket and a corset underneath she felt exactly that. The feeling was only for a moment though, she recognised the captivating fragrance and supple material of Booker's jacket before it was gently placed on her shoulders.

"Now don't even think about giving that back, I'll be perfectly fine." Booker had somehow read Elizabeth's mind. She didn't protest and after re-adjusting the garment slightly, leaned over and planted a tender kiss on Booker's rough cheek.

"Thank you." She whispered in his ear pausing for a second before continuing. "For everything."

As she pulled away from Booker he caught a glimpse of her face, two solitary tears were lazily travelling earthward. Without hesitation Booker wrapped his arms around Elizabeth and pulled her close; she settled perfectly between his broad shoulders.

"I..just..so happy.." Elizabeth's voice was muffled due to her close proximity to Booker's chest. "Booker..best thing..happened.." Her petite frame trembled from emotion and all The False Shepard could think to do was cradle The Lamb tighter within his arms.

It wasn't for a long while until Elizabeth's tears had subsided, she tilted her head from against Booker's torso.

"S..sorry" She uttered in between small gasps. "I didn't mean to.."

Booker's index finger from his right hand brushed onto her lips.

"Don't." Came his reply. "You have nothing to apologise for." Elizabeth could see his chlorochrous eyes sparkling in the evening sky.

"It's me who's thankful" Booker's expression was soft, he slowly brought his finger away and with both hand he cradled hers. "You..." He paused slightly before turning his head and focusing into the distance. "You've changed me for the better. Not Columbia, not the Lutece's and certainly not that bastard Comstock."

Booker turned back to face Elizabeth. Her orbs were staring intently back, slightly puffy from her tears.

"I knew the second I met you, way up in that goddamn tower that there was something about you. I just couldn't put my finger on it. Turns out it wasn't something about you at all. It was just you."

Elizabeth could not believe what she had just heard. For the briefest of moments it was almost as though she hadn't heard it at all, that it was something her mind had forged as to what she wanted Booker to say; a perfect world scenario.

"'Lizabeth, you alright?" Booker asked cautiously. It had sounded a lot better in his head. His vision blurred suddenly as Elizabeth threw herself onto him, her chocolate locks tickling his skin.

For the first time in a very long while, Booker's mood felt truly buoyant. 'I could get used to this' He thought as the sun slowly disappeared from view, sheltered by the concrete jungle of Paris.

It was only until the air had chilled from the lack of the sunlight did the two companions retreat indoors. They had walked the streets a little more, watching the city transform into La Ville Lumière before spotting a small eatery. Elizabeth had led the way, pulling Booker as quickly as fast as she could, pushed on by the prospect of food and warmth.

The restaurant was situated on two levels, the higher of the two being situated towards the rear. It had been expanded in the early 1900s to accommodate the rapid influx of Parisian citizens being driven from the countryside towards the cities in search of work. The restaurant walls were of an orange copper shade whilst the kitchen had been stripped back to leave the bare brickwork. Whilst the colours of the paint and the bricks were similar, they provided a welcoming contrast which gave the room a cosy feel. Two small ruby coloured candles made the centre for each of the 15 tables.

Booker and Elizabeth were seated on the bottom level giving them a great view of where their food would be prepared, men and women in tall chefs hats were hard at work; conversing loudly in French. Elizabeth had ordered two aperitifs to start, Booker had no idea what his was. He prodded it suspiciously before allowing himself a bite, thankfully it tasted far better than its appearance.

As the two companions were finishing their entrées the world around them was buzzing. People from all walks of life were arriving to have their appetites sated, none however had perhaps an enthralling and odd backstory that The False Shepard and The Lamb shared.

The main didn't run as smoothly as it normally should. Whilst Elizabeth had read a great deal of literature, cooking instructions for sea-life; particularly Lobster hadn't been a priority. A comedic scene unfolded as she leapt to the poor crustaceans aid just as it was about to be lowered into a large boiling pot. After much deliberation between a male middle aged chef, his caterpillar moustache trembling wildly, the lobster was gently released back into the small aquarium. Elizabeth sat back down.

"Well..." Booker said, the corner of his mouth tipped slightly into a smirk. "That certainly put you..in a pinch."

"Hilarious Mr DeWitt" Elizabeth retorted sarcastically, playfully rolling her eyes and pouting slightly.

The night continued much in the same vein, drink flowed freely and the bill rose ever higher as the couple sat, content in each others company. It was long after natural light had completely faded, leaving a clear eventide did Booker and Elizabeth emerge back into the open air.

"Come on" Booker said leading the way, Elizabeth's small hand cradled in his. "Theres gotta be somewhere to stay around here."

After a little searching they stumbled across a suitable place. Set behind a small circular courtyard with an aged Linden tree in the centre. Cold, uneven steps gave way to luxurious carpet behind the entrance doors and warmth from the fire set into the west wall tingled the companions skin. Booker approached the desk, the next part was sure to be tricky, he had to secure a room without any means to pay in full for it.

"Hey look pal.."

"Ah mon Dieu!" The gentleman behind the check in desk interrupted. He wore a cocoa coloured suit with an off white handkerchief tucked neatly into his outer breast pocket. His jet black hair was combed neatly and a monocle covered his left eye.

"Je ne vous demande pardon!" The greeter mentally scolded himself before quickly glancing at his suit. "Je ne cross pas que j'ai eu le plaisir" He continued as he rounded the desk and was now furiously shaking Booker's hand.

"Ma nom c'est François."

François had moved swiftly onto Booker's company, he offered Elizabeth a stiff bow before speaking once again.

"Une chambre double avec toutes les commodités pour vous." From his pocket Francois brandished small silver key.

Having still no understanding of French, Booker tried to take the reigns of the conversation once more.

"Hey we just need a room."

Elizabeth quietly shushed him. "It appears as though we already have one." Her mind was starting to fly into overdrive; she had heard the gentleman describe a double bed.

With the lull in conversation François took this as an opportunity to force the key bearing the number 105 into Booker's unsuspecting open palm. The cold metal didn't feel too dissimilar to his faithful hand cannon.

As François continued to natter mindlessly in French he shooed Booker and Elizabeth to the stairwell away from the main entrance. Before closing the door behind them he called out.

"Bonsoir Mr et Mlle Lutece!" With that the door closed.

"I should've known" Booker groaned. Sure enough as they reached number 105 and unlocked it a note was found lying across the frosted white sheets.

'We trust this is something helpful in a more...overt sense.' Even though it was in the written word, it felt like they were reading it aloud; one Lutece hiding behind each ear.

As Booker pored over it he spoke to Elizabeth. "Hell I guess I gotta learn to keep my mouth closed."

"Now where would be the fun in that?" She was busy looking intently at a small gramophone that was tucked away in the North-East corner.

Elizabeth turned back to her saviour; a devious smile flashed across he lips.

"I do believe you still owe me a dance Mr Dewitt"

Booker had groaned before she had even finished. It hadn't escaped his mind that he had managed to dodge such an activity back on Columbia. Whilst it had been directed to him as a nicety, he knew that he didn't have a choice in the matter.

"Alright then." He replied, shrugging his shoulders slightly. "Just know that this ain't my forte."

The sound of a record being removed from its worn casing echoed around the room. Splashed across its orange cover was a gentleman dressed in a waistcoat and top hat, with one hand he was holding the brim as though he was about to doff it. Elizabeth placed it gently onto the stand before the needle was placed upon it, the familiar crackling broke the silence as the machine whirred into life.

As a soft piano introduction flowed forth from the phonograph, Elizabeth practically bounced across the room towards Booker, her skirt flowing gently behind. Nerves threatened to overcome her and for a moment the two stood, staring deeply into each others orbs.

Booker was the one to break the silence.

"I..guess I'll be following your lead?"

"O..of course" Elizabeth's voice was a little shaky. "Right then if you just.."

Her arms reached out towards Booker's toned physique but froze; hanging limply in the air. With Booker's complete lack of knowledge on the art of dance he took this as a sign to connect, he reached out and intertwined Elizabeth's dainty fingers within his own.

Elizabeth's cheeks flushed a dark red, it was an odd sight for her, having watched Booker overcome any task on Columbia yet now relying on her every word.

"Sorry...that was my fault." Elizabeth laughed nervously. Gently she guided Booker's hand down her petite frame and coming to rest on her waist.

"There" She said satisfied, murmuring to herself. Her hand travelled skywards and came to rest on Booker's shoulders.

"Are you alright?" She asked Booker, her confidence that moments ago was blossoming was now quickly retreating.

*There's a room where the light won't find you*

"I couldn't think of any other place I would rather be" He replied before he caught her lips with his.

*Holding hands while the walls come tumbling down*

Booker was right, he couldn't think of any other place. They had come through hell and high water, battled Mad Prophets, a gigantic over-protective mechanical Bird and much more besides. It had been one hell of a ride.

*When they do I'll be right beside you*

Perhaps the weirdest thing of all though, something that not even the experience of meeting a friendly Handyman could topple; was that he had fallen for The Girl In The Tower. It had started similar to the way you fall asleep, slowly, and then all at once.

*So glad we've almost made it*

Before Columbia, Booker was a broken man. There are only so many years of war and hatred that any man can bear, scars that lie just beneath the skin that will never truly heal.

*So sad they have to fade it*

The girl he held in his arms, her head resting on his broad shoulders whilst they swayed gently, was now the most important part of his life. Damn any bastard who would try his luck and get in the way of that.

*Everybody wants to rule the world*

"I love you Booker."

No hesitation. No niggling thoughts. Just peace in Paris.

"I love you too Elizabeth."

There we have it!

What started out as a small ending to the story quickly turned into the longest chapter i've ever written. I've always had this idea for the ending before I had even written the first chapter!

Most importantly thank you very much for being patient, I hope it was worth the wait.

The song is Everybody Wants to Rule The World by Tears for Fears, it's the version found in Bioshock Infinite should be floating around somewhere if you'd like to listen to it.

Let me know what you think!

Happy New Year,

AsozMania