So much to my dismay, I watched Marry Poppins and played Bioshock Infinite. Now all I could think of were ideas about if Booker had a nanny for Anna. This is why watching movies and then playing videogames should not happen with me. I think of some of the most random crap sometimes. On that note, no this is not a Marry Poppins crossover, but I did steal some elements but really that could be from anything with a nanny in it and I think you'll recognize what I mean when the character is actually introduced but I don't want to give too much away. So without further ado and my ramblings stopped I give you the story: MOVING ON…

Disclaimer: Bioshock Infinate and all characters are the product Irrational Games and I am not associated with either of these people and therefore no money was made from this.

"Anna," Booker's head shot up from the desk he didn't realize he'd fallen asleep at. He glimpsed at his surroundings, his shabby home the messy desk with various bets and bottles littering it. When Booker's eye caught the calendar, he thought he may have fainted. October 8th, 1893. Was this a second chance for him?

He shot out of his chair and to the door, "Anna," he whispered. "Is that you?" He inched closer and closer to the crib, bracing himself for disappointment that she wouldn't be there. But as he leaned over to look inside, he let out a breath he didn't know he was holding in. There his daughter, Anna DeWitt, laid peacefully sleeping. Booker felt an immense sense of relief wash over him, it must have been a nightmare. He couldn't help but smile a little when Anna opened her mouth and cooed before kicking her tiny foot then let out a long, content breath.

There was a sudden knock at the door, not loud, but enough to draw Booker's attention. He sighed, no doubt it was something to do with the Pinkerton's again. His termination, he wondered, he did get a little carried away at the last strike when he'd beaten a man to death just for calling him a mindless slave-driving Pink. He normally would have agreed, but that was a really bad day and that man's face was the closest thing to his fist. Though in his defense it got results. Still the higher ups at Pinkerton were not happy with his performance and he knew he was on pretty thin ice.

He left Anna to sleep contently while he answered the door. Samuel Moorely, another Pinkerton like Booker, stood at his door. Booker braced himself for the news, he didn't particularly care for the job, but it put food on the table for himself and his daughter. Losing it would be difficult if he was going to provide for his family like he was supposed to. "Moorely," he said curtly.

"DeWitt," he replied. Moorely was a head shorter than Booker, having to look up to speak to his coworker, with beady brown eyes and a wide forehead. His physique was best described as roly-poly, not quite fat, but certainly not at peak physical condition. His eyes narrowed at Booker, as he entered the office. "I must say I was expecting something a little less… Shabby."

"Are you here to play homemaker or do you need something," Booker snapped. He did not want to be bothered, and with the men's history, he especially didn't want to be bothered by Moorely.

"The Pinkertons aren't happy with you Booker," he studied all the betting slips on Booker's desk and frowned. "They don't much like the idea of an ill-tempered drunk making a mess of things." He read the slips and raised an eyebrow. "This horse didn't win last night."

"No shit," Booker snatched the slip out of the portly man's hand. "Now if this is something to do with the Pinkertons why don't you stop beating around the bush and tell me."

"That's a hell of a bet to lose," continued Moorely. Booker wanted desperately to punch him in the face, but refrained, the last thing he needed was to hear the Pinks complain about his temper again. "How are you paying for it? Wouldn't happen to do with whatever's behind that door?" He took a step towards the door but was quickly blocked off by Booker.

"What's behind that door is none of your goddamn business," Booker help out it arm to stop Moorely. "Either tell me the Pinks fired me, or get the hell out."

"Fine," Moorely's smirked. "You didn't get fired, against their better judgment no doubt. They do want you to know that it's one more slip up and you're done Booker. This time for good. In the meantime, they thought they could give you something a little more in your field. They want you to find a man named Thomas Higgins, making all sorts of trouble in the city trying to rally the unions. Do whatever it is you do best DeWitt, you may even earn your way back into the Pinkerton's good graces."

"That all?"

"That's what they want from you."

"Good, now get out."

"Very well, before I go, might I ask," he nodded his head to the door. "What is behind the door?"

"I already told you none of your goddamn-"

He was stopped by the sound of a loud wail. Shit, Anna was awake. Moorely's eyebrows shot up instantly, so this was what was making Booker so uptight. "A baby?"

"Yes."

"Is it yours?"

"Yeah."

Moorely was shocked to say the least, he had no idea Booker was a father. He had a hard time imagining the hot-tempered man trying to raise a child. Especially with the way he drank, it was a wonder he didn't drop the child. "How long has it been here?"

"Six months," answered Booker. Though it did make him pause for a moment, when the hell did half a year pass by so quickly? Then again, in his dream twenty years had passed so he guessed he shouldn't have been so surprised. Moorely's questioning gaze still didn't leave his face. He knew Booker had been married for a brief period of time, he even heard about her death, but the baby was news to him. "Now if you have nothing else to tell me, you need to go."

Strangely, Moorely was more than happy to leave. "Well then, you know what you're supposed to do, best not keep the Pinks waiting. I'll show myself out."

"Good." Moorely left almost immediately, closing the door softly behind him. With a sigh, Booker entered the small bedroom where his daughter wrestled with the blankets then stopped suddenly when her father peered in from over her crib. She smiled and kicked her feet happily reaching her small hands up for her father. He didn't say anything, instead just reached inside to hold his daughter. The events of his dream still fresh in his mind. Giving her away to some mysterious man, so he could pay off a few debts. Though this did leave the question of how the hell he was going to pay them off. But that was something he could deal with later, at the moment he was too busy enjoying his daughter's company.

She babbled a whole bunch of nonsense to him, but he didn't seem to mind, instead he simply chuckled before setting her down to crawl. She explored the contents of their home and his office which was going to soon be too small for them. Booker noticed this with a sigh as Anna sat on her bottom, still babbling but settling on trying to reach her toes. She did manage to grab them, Booker noticed with astonishment, but as she tried to put them into her mouth she rolled backwards giggling as she laid on her back.

"One of these days kid," he said as he observed her amusements. "I'm going to get us out of New York. How does that sound?" She reached for his hair and gave it a quick tug, he winced but didn't stop her. She giggled again and put her fist into her mouth and gnawed on it for a moment. "Yeah sounds good to me too."

He sat on his bed for a moment wondering where he would take the two of them. There wasn't very much he could afford with his… Habits. He frowned at the thought, he didn't really think about how he was affecting his family with his addiction to gambling and drinking. His wife never said much about it, and Anna couldn't even if she wanted to. Booker felt like deflating, the thoughts made him feel like a failure as a father. Was he really that selfish? He tried to take the thoughts out of his mind by busying himself on Thomas Higgins, especially given that he'd have to reign in his temper this time or he would soon be finding himself looking for another job. He'd need someone to look after Anna while he was gone especially if he was on a goose chase for just one man. Booker had done many jobs similar but they could become lengthy. He thought again on his dream, and frowned, how long did it take to find Elizab- erm, Anna? And a far more relevant question, how was he supposed to find someone to work for him when he wasn't exactly known for his social skills?

Anna crawled back to her father, now wanting the attention her toes were lacking. "Deh-deh-deh," her hands flapped merrily. After raising her by himself for six months, he knew very well what that translated to. 'What are you doing dad and why aren't I a part of it?' He looked down to the quizzing look of his daughter, he picked her up again and sat her on his stomach.

"Looks like we're going to have to hire a nanny," he sighed giving into his realization. "Don't know how the hell I'm going to find one." Anna put her hands by his mouth, he backed his head out of her reach. "Or pay her. We're in enough debt as it is." Anna stopped what she was doing and instead stared at her father. If Booker hadn't known any better, he would have thought she was really listening and understanding what he was saying.

"Deh-deh-deh," she conversed. Booker raised an eyebrow. She certainly had a lot to say today as she looked at Booker with a serious expression on her face. She shook her head and continued to 'speak' to him. Booker found it amusing to say the least. He found himself nodding and every so often answering with a brief 'uh-huh' or 'hmmm.' Finally she stopped and gnawed on her left hand again. Booker was glad to see that her tiny pinky was still there, not replaced by a thimble.

"I hear they're all the rage in Paris."

"Yeah I know," he agreed as Anna kept babbling on and on. Whatever she was telling him, it was obviously important. She normally didn't carry on like this, she usually kept conversation light with a few 'deh-deh' and then finding something else to do. But today, she was very interested in her father. Booker didn't seem to mind it though, as a matter of fact he liked having someone to talk to that didn't talk back about his job, or his drinking, or his gambling. Her conversations usually consisted of needing to be changed, fed, or wanting to be nosey.

She pointed at the newspaper on the ground next to the bed. "Deh!" She demanded. He glanced down, the classified section faced up. Booker was a little taken back, did she see that? Did she know what he was saying to her? How old was she again? "Deh!" She exclaimed again, Booker looked down at the ads, finding a list of nannies looking for work. 'Well', he thought glancing between Anna and the paper, 'that was easy'. He browsed through the list, they all seemed as good a nanny as any. Still, he was more impressed by his daughter's ability to find the classified section. He noticed she was still pointing at the floor, something else was down there that she wanted. His gaze followed her finger, her rattle was on the floor.

Oh. Well that was just a very convenient coincident.

He reached down again and handed Anna the rattle which she took to swinging like a club, much to Booker's dismay as he found himself dodging the wooden toy again and again. He kept reading down the list of possible nannies, how would he know which one was the right one for his home? He gazed around his office, one with low standards would be a good start. Anna finally clocked her father with the rattle. He was almost angry with her until she looked up at him with her big blue eyes and giggled. Booker sighed, she was just like her mother, and he never could stay angry at her either. He chuckled along with her as he rubbed his nose. "Nice one," he complemented.

Booker stood up with his daughter in his arms. He could search for a nanny tomorrow, for now, some fresh air with Anna sounded like a much better idea.

(A/N: So what do you think so far? I know Booker may seem a little OOC right now, and trust me all in good time everything will come together. The Moorely, the nanny, the debt, the actual game I did not forget about that, the peanut, the Patrick, so on and so forth it all has a purpose. So you all know the drill. Read, review, and remember: I love you!)