cagedlamb | (no subject)

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The wrongness of her situation was immediately apparent.

She had woken up to Oliver whining that morning. The dog usually slept on her bed and never really made a fuss, so she reached out to him, half asleep, and found his head to be much bigger than she remembered. In her sleep filled haze, it confused her - and then she opened her eyes.

His head wasn't bigger, her hand was smaller.

It took her a moment to realize that no, what was happening wasn't a dream. Oliver seemed confused himself, and she had to practically pull herself out from under the big mutt, whose weight usually wasn't too big an issue. It wasn't really until she saw herself in the mirror that it began to truly sink in.

She had been looking forward to the day for a good week. She was going to see if she could have a good time with friends instead of spending another day alone. Instead, it appeared something had aged her down, and she felt panic rising up in her.

Leaving the bathroom, she did the only thing she could think to do - she went right to Booker's room and started knocking on the door. "Booker! Wake up!"

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There were good things about having Elizabeth close by and there were bad things. Having her knock on his door when all he wants to do is sleep off this hangover. His head is pounding, like there's one of those Patriot things clanking and shooting in his skull, and it's not even close to being in synch with what's happening outside his bedroom.

"N'now, 'Lizbeth. Tryin' t' sleep in here."

Elizabeth sighed in frustration. She could hear it just by how he was speaking that he wasn't just groggy, and she had no time for waiting for him to wake up on his own. She needed help and she needed it right then.

So she did what she rarely ever did and opened the door anyway. She felt like what was happening more than called for it to be an emergency.

"Booker, wake up!" she said once she reached his bed, shaking him with her tiny hands. Her voice was starting to hit an even higher pitch than before - it was getting to be really hard not to panic and maybe even burst into tears. "Wake up, something's wrong!"

The pounding in his head only intensifies when he cracks open his eyes to the dim light in the room. Blinking a few times does little to clear them so he rubs a hand over his face to rub at them a bit as he sits up, feeling the cold air on his scarred a bare chest. It's enough to gain him a little clarity as he looks up to where Elizabeth should be standing over him.

And then he has to look down.

"Fuck."

Elizabeth was never a patient person to begin with. Apparently being younger just made it worse, and she let out an annoyed huff when he finally noticed.

"Do you see the problem?!" she asked, motioning in an almost hysterical fashion toward herself. "Because this is a big problem, Booker!"

The words go right into his skull which isn't helping the pounding in the least. "Just stop screeching, Elizabeth, I can see it's a problem." But what does she expect him to do about it? He can't just grow her big.

Rubbing his face again, he tries to pull his thoughts together enough to think of something. "Where'd you go yesterday? What did you do?" Not that he thinks the information is going to help, but if getting her to walk through some things will calm her down, hell, he'll ask all the stupid questions she needs.

Elizabeth felt some bit of anger bubbling up in her at him describing it as screeching, even though it was. A bit. She was having trouble holding her emotions together at that moment, honestly, but she would not cry in front of him.

"I went to work and came home, that's it. I think I'd know if I did something that'd make me this," she said, her shoulders slumping. "Maybe it's because it's my birthday? I've never heard of this happening on anyone else's."

The last sentence sounded a whole lot like an outright whine. He was lucky she was resisting having a tantrum at the fact her day was ruined before it even began.

Something in his head twists, HARD, and he winces at the sudden additional pain in his skull. Perfect, just perfect, he thinks, on top of everything else, he's going to have to deal with this today, too.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he tries not to sigh in exasperation because in all honesty, this isn't exactly what he signed up for. He's never been sure what is, but he's pretty sure that this isn't it. But whatever it is, it's here and now he has to deal with it. "I didn't know it's your birthday, but can you really say you're surprised? This place has more twists and secrets than Columbia. Give me..." He has to think a minute. "Gimme twenty minutes to wake up and shower and we'll think of something. I'll... We'll make your birthday a good one, even like this."

He doesn't really know why he says that last part, but it feels important in a way, it feels right. Booker doesn't go out of his way to be mean and there's something about her, especially since she's looking at him with those eyes that look like- "Damn." His head twists again and he swings his legs out of the bed, glad he'd remembered to put on some kind of pants before passing out the night before. "Just give me twenty minutes, okay? Maybe see if you can find something in your closet that'll fit until we can get to the store."

That was the thing, Elizabeth wasn't surprised at all. It still didn't mean she was happy, especially given that she did have a shot at something resembling normal. She was surprised he didn't simply brush off the mention of the day, though, and even more surprised to hear him offer to help make it a little better.

"Okay," she agreed, even though she knew what she had on - a shirt that was practically falling off her - was as good as it was going to get. "I'll be in my room."

It wasn't like she could go anywhere else at that point, a thought she glumly left the room thinking. Oliver remained close by her as she went.

He waits until she's gone before he reaches to the nightstand, fishing around in the drawer for his flask. Damn if he wasn't going to need something to get through this day. Taking a long pull, he tries to steady his hands before stumbling off to the shower. He turns on the water, almost all hot, hot enough to redden his skin and he stands in the spray until he feels human enough to get dressed and face the day. For whatever it's going to be.

Pulling his usual attire from the closet, jeans, button-down workshirt, his shoulder holster and a jacket to conceal it. He almost reconsiders the gun, but remembering the look on Elizabeth's face and the rest of the crazy shit that's happened, he checks the safety twice and makes sure he's got plenty of ammo in reserve. Reaching into his dresser drawer, he rummages around until he finds what someone told him were gym shorts. They're too small for him, but they've got a drawstring so they might be a little more... proper than just the t-shirt that Elizabeth had been wearing.

Finally, he's ready to face whatever's happening and it's his turn to cross the hall and knock on the door. "Still awake, kid?"

Elizabeth had tried to attempt to find something else to wear. When it was clear it wasn't going to happen, she flopped back onto her bed with a loud sigh, with Oliver taking his spot beside her. She just stared at the ceiling until she heard the knocking.

"Come in," she replied, not sounding very happy. She sat up after, hugging her knees to her chest.

It tears at him, seeing her like that when he opens the door. And he still doesn't know that he can do a damn thing to make it better. He doesn't even know why he stays so close to her most of the time. They don't have much in common aside from a powerful hatred of the place they came from, she's curious, smart, forgiving, and he knows he's a bastard and a drunk most of the time. But he can't leave. Maybe she's the one thing good he's got and he knows that if he lets it go, he's got nothing left.

"Here." Handing her the shorts, he politely turns around so she can try them on if she wants. "Those should make you decent enough until we can get to a store. We'll... we'll figure the rest out after that. One problem at a time."

Elizabeth looked at the shorts she was given before nodding her head. The fact she was going to have to spend her morning buying clothes that would fit her much tinier self was embarrassing, but she had to admit, Booker's presence helped.

She knew he was trying. So she tried too. Once he was turned around, she shifted until she was off the bed and standing, nd carefully slipped it on. It was still falling off her, but she could hold it up.

"You can look again," she announced, bunching some of the fabric in her hand to easily keep it on her. "I'll have to hold it up, but it'll work."

"C'mon, then. Might as well get started." He doesn't know what else to say so he heads towards the front door, grabbing his wallet on the way and making sure he didn't lose all his money at the table last night. Surprising enough, looks like he might have won a hand or two.

"Hey, why don't you get Oliver's leash, we can take him with, maybe go to the park for a late breakfast or something." Kids like parks, right? Although, technically, Elizabeth isn't a kid she just... really sounds like one. How does this work, anyway?

She understood already whatever was happening was awkward at best for Booker. He certainly didn't seem the type to hang out with children or have been around many in his life, for that matter. The intent behind the offer, she knew, was an attempt to make her feel better. While she really just wanted to stay in and mope, she felt obligated to try and salvage what she could of her day herself.

Oliver would need a walk, anyway.

"I think he'd like that," she decided, walking over to where his leash was hanging. She scowled a little as she basically had to stand on her toes to be able to grab it. The height thing was going to get old very quickly. "Oliver, over here."

The big dog approached with his usual excitement, and she was just glad she made sure she'd trained him not to jump. It was the kind of thing that she was sure would end badly had he wanted to leap on her. Securing the leash onto his collar, she glanced at Booker. "Ready?"

"Yeah, let's head out." Opening the door, Booker takes a few steps into the hall and waits so he can lock the door behind them. It's a habit he's had to develop here, he's never had anything worth stealing in his life, and now... Now he has Elizabeth. If there's anything worth his time to protect, it's her and now's no different than when he was taking her through Columbia. Just... smaller. But not a lot different.

Watching her with the dog, it makes him wonder. For whatever it's worth, he was almost a father. Maybe he even would have been good at it. Minus the drinking and the gambling, probably. And right on cue, a bolt of pain shoots through his head. He's almost got it figured out, what makes the pain come, not that he can stop himself from thinking things and as he watches the tiny figure of his hard-headed roommate, he realizes that he's in world a world of pain today.

Oliver trotted easily beside Elizabeth. A part of her hoped they didn't bump into anyone she knew, because she was sure being seen with both Booker and the dog would send up warning bells. The entire situation was embarrassing, and she certainly wanted to try to keep it between them if they could.

Perhaps she'd simply say she fell ill. She'd think about it later. She glanced back at him just in time to notice a small grimace.

"Are you okay?" she asked, looking a little worried.

"Just had a good night last night, paying for it a little this morning." He lies. He doesn't like it, but until he's got these headaches under control he doesn't want her worrying any more than she already does. Besides, it's... what the words the doc used, a process. A process to get at the memories and get rid of the headaches.

"Get a little food in me and I'll be fine at your command, ma'am." He tips an imaginary hat to her, vaguely remembering a time when he used to do that to the ladies. Been a long time since he had that kind of energy.

Eiizabeth rolled her eyes a little. She had a feeling there was more to it than that (though that certainly didn't help), but she'd long since learned Booker had his secrets. It frustrated her sometimes, but she didn't push. It was already a trying sort of day.

"Where are we going to go eat?" she asked instead. She didn't really have any preference, she supposed, as long as they could sit outside with Oliver.

"We'll run and get you some clothes and then I was thinking we'd hit one of those bakeries or something. It's early enough, I bet they have things." And it'll give him a chance to put an order in for something special for later that day. He hears it's traditional. Cakes and things.

"Hel, we can stop by a market or something, get lunch, too. S'possed to be a nice day. I don't really have anything pressing to get to. Unless you don't wanna be seen with me that long?" She's got friends, he knows, he's checked some of them out on the sly and he's not so foolish as to think that spending the day with him is anything other than a second choice. Maybe she should be with them, instead of him.

"I'm not going to be doing anything else," Elizabeth said, sounding a little glum at that. Still, she was aware it went both ways. It wasn't as though Booker had asked to be saddled with her and her problems. As she stepped outside of the apartment with Oliver following behind her, she added, "You don't need to stay with me all day too, you know. I know this is...really, really weird."

To say the least. And though the idea of being abandoned made her stomach twist a little, she didn't want to force the issue. It almost would be appropriate for her to be alone, given where she was when she was actually the age she was at.

"I'm not going to leave you unless you ask me to, Elizabeth." He still doesn't understand it, maybe he never will, but he's become somewhat fond of the girl. He worries about her, tries to look out for her, tries to keep his drinking and gambling to an extant where it won't harm her. Things he hasn't done since his wife died and he just didn't care about anything anymore, that was certain. He's seen her face down things no young woman should have to and she's impressed him almost every time.

Scared him, too, if he's honest.

Parked on the street is his car, beaten and worse for wear, but running and mostly clean. Opening the passenger door, he tries to give her a smile again. "You're stuck with the old man, guess."

Elizabeth nodded, not pushing her insistence she was fine alone beyond that. If he wanted to keep her company, she was glad to have it. Honestly, as much as it felt like things were ruined, she was glad to be doing anything. That she was doing it with someone she did consider a friend, - or something like it - made it all the better.

She got Oliver into the back seat before closing the door and sliding onto the seat. It felt strangely over-sized compared to how it usually was.

"I'm looking forward to it," she said, honestly, not wanting him for a moment thinking she didn't appreciate what he was doing.

Booker tries to make the day as good as he can, relying on what he's seen since coming to this place, vague memories of his own youth and a few questions asked of confused bakers behind Elizabeth's back. He doesn't think he's been a great success, but he knows he wasn't a complete failure at least. At least he hopes. His head pounds enough all day that he's not sure he remembers it all by the end, but he knows they've accomplished something if only by the amount of crap he carries back up to the apartment once they're home.

There's enough clothes to get Elizabeth through the next week at least, the remains of a picnic in a basket bought just for the occasion. He makes the mistake of taking her to the bookstore and telling her to get whatever she wants and for good measure he gets a new chew toy for Oliver, too. And when everything's been dragged up and dropped on the floor somewhere, they're just in time for the delivery of the cake, complete with candles, balloons and her name on top.

Now there's some documentary on the television, something about the US passing a law against alcohol that he doesn't quite believe, and they're sitting on the battered sofa together while he tries to figure out why he feels so... happy. It certainly isn't like him and as much as his head hurts right now he knows he should be miserable, but for now he just feels good.

Elizabeth had expected the day to be tolerable at best. Not because she was spending it with Booker, but because the entire situation dampened her mood considerably. And yet -

The day had been good. She still preferred being normal, but she also realized she would have never done what she had if she'd been normal. So maybe it wasn't all bad.

(She wished she'd turn normal now, though.)

It wasn't to be, though. And instead of a night out, she found herself curled up on the couch with him, full from the meal and the surprise cake (which she admittedly almost cried at, but in a good way - her very first birthday cake). Oliver was hogging most of the couch, with his big head in her lap, so she was sitting pretty close to Booker. It was mostly companionable silence for a little while, but she suddenly felt the need to say something.

"Thank you," she said, shyly petting Oliver's head instead of looking at Booker as she spoke. "For the entire day. I had a nice time."

He grunts in place of an answer because he doesn't really know what else he can say. He did it for her, because no kid that looks that sweet should have such a rough day, especially on her birthday. He did it because he cares for Elizabeth, in his own mystifying way. And maybe, he did it a little for him, too. He's been in that therapy thing long enough to know that his wife and child's death has him all kinds of messed up and as much as it literally hurts to think about, taking care of Elizabeth seems to make it better. A little.

It's one of the things he doesn't think about too hard.

"You doing okay? Need anything else?"

Elizabeth just smiled at the question, shaking her head. She was actually exhausted, and the very idea of doing anything else wasn't really anything she was interested in. No, she was almost surprised how okay she was where she was, just having a quiet night. It wasn't exactly what she had planned, but -

It certainly could have been worse.

"I don't think there's anything else you could do," she said, sounding a little amused. It was sweet.

"Good." For more than one reason he's glad she's settled for the night. He though chasing after her in Columbia had been exhausting, the kid version was almost more so. But it made him feel good that he'd managed to pull this off. Like maybe he wasn't a complete failure when it comes to taking care of her. I makes him feel... happy.

"Hopefully you'll wake up in a day or two all back to normal." Not that he minds her like this. It's a little window he thinks, into what she was like when she was this age. Makes him wonder what his own kid would have been like - assuming of course he can ever have that thought without his head pounding.

Elizabeth had to stifle a yawn as he spoke. She didn't know if it was because of her switch in age or not, but she was losing steam a lot earlier than she usually did.

"You'll have to call my work tomorrow if I'm not normal," she reminded him, peering up. She would not ask of him such a thing unless she had to. It was a must. "I don't think they'd believe I was turned into a child."

"No problem." He's got no idea what he'll say, he works for himself and he's his own boss but he's sure he'll think of something. "Maybe I'll just tell them I've kidnapped you until they pay a ransom. Maybe we can make some money out of this." Not his best joke, but then this is hardly something to joke over. On the other hand, she's a damn cute button of a kid. And surprisingly less stubborn and willful, too.

"Let's not alarm people. That would be a terrible idea," she said, with a loud, childish sort of sigh, stretching a little. "And you'll probably only end up in jail and it'd be your own fault. I might not even help you because it was such a bad idea."

Except she would, probably.

"I guess, figure your lockpicking skills wouldn't do very well against the locks in the local police station."

He raised his arm when Elizabeth stretched, moving it to the back of the sofa so she could have a little more room if she needed it. "You doing okay? You can stretch out if you want." He feels like he's been asking her that all day, but he's out of other options. Nothing like this has ever happened to him and he's got no idea how she's really feeling about this thing that's happened.

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