Daddy's Girl (Bioshock Infinite Fanfic)

Part 3: Facade

Pandora woke with a start, panting, her pyjamas stuck to her skin.
Another stupid, vivid dream.
This was the sixth or seventh dream with the mysterious man in it. The one that -in the dream- she had to referred to as 'daddy'.
Pandora lay back down, but couldn't fall asleep, and so she lay staring out of the window until the morning sun filtered through the clouds.
* * *

'I had another dream last night.' Pandora told Booker while he was drinking his coffee.
'Again?' He looked surprised. Yet terrified, Pandora thought.
'I don't understand it.' She sighed. 'I know people have vivid dreams, but mine seem to link together.' She let out a nervous laugh. 'I mean its always the same man, always the same place, it doesn't make any sense whatsoever.'
'Honey, it may seem like they're somehow connected, but what if its just a big coincidence?' Booker felt sorry for his daughter, as she seemed distressed.
'Maybe you're right.' Pandora shook her head. 'Sorry if i worried you.'
'Don't apologise, sweetheart, but you know i worry about you.'
'I know.' She got up from the table to give him a hug.
For a reason only Booker could understand, he felt incredibly guilty.
* * *

'Damn it!' Pandora hurled her broken pen against the wall in a temper, cursing the interruption in her writing. She didn't have another pen, and for a few moments she moodily stared out of the window, wondering if it was worth it to ask Elizabeth if she could borrow one off her.
'Hang on a sec.' She muttered to herself. Her father always seemed do be writing -when he wasn't reading the newspaper of course- so maybe he kept pens in his room?
In fact, he had expressively told her to stay out, but Pandora was desperate, and she was sure he wouldn't mind her going in to borrow a measly pen.
Happy with her decision, she left her writing desk and went out into the hallway, creeping cautiously in case anyone heard. She listened intently for footsteps, but all she could hear was the overly loud ticking of the grandfather clock by the stairs. Creeping as quietly as she could, Pandora made her way over to her fathers bedroom, which was opposite her own. She slowly twisted the doorknob, holding her breath, listening for any slight sound. Luckily the door didn't squeak, so she pushed it open and slipped into the room. It was pretty normal looking, fairly dusty, with books scattered around. The faded blue wallpaper was peeling off, and most of the furniture was old and scratched. She shrugged and crossed the room, opening drawers in the old night stand. The first three drawers were overflowing with books and yellowed bits of paper covered with scribbles and jottings. She shoved them down carelessly and moved onto the last drawer. In the drawer there was a voxophone with a small label on it. It was called 'Juliet'.
Pandora's breath caught in her throat. This couldn't be coincidence could it? She thought back to her strange dream, her finger hovering over the play button. To her it sounded ridiculous, but maybe it could give her some answers? Hesitantly, she pressed play.
'Me daughter, Juliet is going to be 6 this month.' A man's voice said. 'Soon I'll have to teach her everything i know.' He had an Irish accent, and suddenly Pandora stiffened. It was the man from her dream!
'As soon as I'm gone, I'll have me darlin' Juliet to carry on for me. She's young, but soon she'll be just like her old man.' There was a short silence. 'If anything happened to her I'd he devastated.' He said quietly. 'She's all I have left. I lost her mother, and I can't lose her too.'
Then it went silent.
Pandora felt herself shaking. What did all this mean? If Juliet really was a real girl, what did she have to do with Booker, and more importantly, why was he trying to hide her?
She leant down to put the voxophone back in the drawer, and same a black leather bound photo album. Would this uncover more secrets? She pulled it out of the drawer and flipped it open. On the inside cover were the words:
'To Juliet
Love Daddy xx'
Pandora felt her chest tighten as she looked at the black and white photos that adorned each page. They were always the same two people, a man and a young girl. As she stared at it his face became more and more familiar. The man from her dream. He was real too! As Pandora turned each page, she felt frustrated, angry tears well up in her eyes before they spilled over and landed with a soft pat onto the protective cover. The young girl was easy to recognise, as Pandora had seen her in the photos Booker kept around the house.
It was her.