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eleanor

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It was after the beach that he decided it was time to come out and say something, if for no other reason than that now there was clearly something to talk about. Before, he hadn't been sure. Now... He didn't really know what else he needed to make him sure.

He didn't know what this was yet. But it was something. And Eleanor deserved to know.

Deciding that turned out to be the easy part.

So for a while he waffled without wanting to admit that what he was doing was waffling, puzzling over how exactly to talk about something he wasn't sure how to define, what exactly she needed to know and what she didn't, until finally he had to accept that it was probably going to be awkward regardless of what he did.

So he ordered Chinese food. It seemed like the thing to do.

"Eleanor," he called, after he paid the delivery man and shut the apartment door, turning toward the kitchen with a bag fragrant with steamed vegetables and General Tso's chicken. "The food is here."

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"She's a dancer." He was proud of her, he realized. Not the kind of pride that came when something was owned, or existed to make someone else look good, but simply that there was so much about her that he was eager to tell, now that he had started. "She works with the ballet. She's smart, and funny, and she's... kind. And she's been patient with me."

He gave Eleanor a smile, faintly rueful. "I'm not really sure what I'm doing, you see. With most things."

"Oh, I've never seen real ballet, just pieces in movies. Can we go see her sometime, Father?" It sounds so beautiful and elegant. The bits I've seen are so... the dancers float across the stage like the air is water, flowing around and beneath them. I think it's beautiful and she must be, too.

"Perhaps she can help me too. Most of what I know comes from the books I read and movies I watch."

"She actually wanted us to come see her dance. She said she could give us tickets to the show she's in right now." His smile widened, grew less rueful. "She wants to meet you. I think she would like you very much."

He paused, then reached out and laid his hand over hers, giving her a squeeze. "I hope you like her too."

I return the squeeze, how can I not? You look so happy and anyone who can make you happy like this is wonderful. No matter what kind of relationship the two of you have, I think I'm grateful for it.

"I really can't wait to meet her. Really, Father, I'm certain she's wonderful."

"I think she is."

He paused again, then picked out another piece of chicken, his smile fading very slightly. "I know I must have had... friends like her before Rapture. I wish I could remember."

"I am so sorry. Rapture took so much from you." So much from us both, truly. "But we're here now. We can make new memories. I am making new friends and you are making new..." Whatever this Lily is to you. A friend. Or... something.

"We're building a new life," he said quietly. It was just that simple. "I don't think building a life can ever be easy. No matter how many times you do it." He paused, ruminating, his eyes searching her face.

"I was never really angry before, about the things that were taken from me. Not like I was angry about everything that was taken from you. But lately I've been feeling... What happened to me wasn't right." His expression softened. "Except I never would have met you."

It's a difficult thing to think about, isn't it? Had you never found Rapture, I would have lived and likely died by my Mother's whims. Or as a Little Sister wandering the halls of Rapture. But you would have been free and I know I would have wanted that more than anything.

"I would... I would rather have had your freedom. Even if I..." Well, we need not discuss what would have happened to me. "You could have had a family, children that... that are really yours. You have every right to be angry. I am."

He paused, thinking. He had mentioned anger, and he felt anger some of the time, but now most of what he was feeling was... sad. Because there wasn't really anything to be done about it. It had happened. They had both suffered too much.

And now they had a chance to build something new. He would protect that, just as he had always protected Eleanor when she was too small to protect herself.

He reached across the table and took her hand again, something fiercer in it now. "You are really mine," he said, voice low and firm. "You're my daughter. In every way that matters. I will never be sorry for having met you."

That I am, and that I will always be. The bond between us is so much more than anyone, Sinclair, Tenenbaum, Suchong, even my mother could ever understand. We are Father and Daughter not because of some random accident of birth, but by choice. By love. And in that, I think we are stronger than any family.

But still I find myself mourning the loss of the life you once had, and how much better it might have been for you had you never found Rapture. I love you, Father, and always will, but you did deserve much better. I hold your hand and I can feel your love and I hold onto that, pushing the guilt away and replacing it with joy. "I love you, too. So, when can I meet this friend of yours? Can she come over some evening, for dinner maybe?"

"Yes. I will ask her." He smiled again, feeling the brief darkness passing. He wasn't afraid of it, didn't even hate it, but it was important to remember that it wasn't all that there was.

When once it had really seemed that way.

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