Hey there guys. So here's the thing with this story, I'm surprised there isn't more of this on this website. I mean, once again there is a completely blank slate of material for prime fanfictioning. Don't get me wrong, I'm a huge Infinite fan, but if I wanted to read the cannon, I'd just as soon play the game. MOVING ON…

Booker DeWitt had seen some pretty disgusting things in his life. It came with the territory of his career. He'd seen wives blow their husbands to bits with the radar range on 'accident'. He'd seen splicers tear apart anything or anyone they could just to get their hands on ADAM. He'd seen people pulled into the streets of Rapture just to be made an example. But of all the things that somehow managed to get under his skin, it was the little girls left to wander the streets, abandoned, alone, afraid, and God knows what other misfortunes they would have in their lives. He stayed out of it, avoiding the children altogether, or making them go away when he was forced to. He tried to be as cordial about the latter as possible, but often it just wasn't possible. He'd have to yell or physically remove them from the steps to his office.

Yet every day, there was one in particular that seemed to have made herself a little too comfy in front of his office. Every day around lunch time he could be sure that she would be there, no matter how many times he shooed her away. No matter how many times he had to - quite cruelly- spray her with a hose until she scampered away, she'd always find her way back to his door. Finally he just gave up entirely and let her take up residence.

She was a harmless little thing no older than seven with blonde hair and blue eyes, sunken in from hunger. Every now and again, when he'd come home drunk she'd help him find his door. Usually thanked with little more than a lopsided grin and a door slammed in her face. She never seemed to mind, just occasionally look up to him with hungry, pleading eyes that went unanswered.

They stayed their distances from one another until he'd gotten a call from a cop friend, Sullivan –a fellow New Yorker, about a lead head terrorizing them ritzy type in the Kashmir, all Booker needed to do was figure out who it was and how they'd gotten there. Dangerous money, but definitely worth it if one was willing to get their hands dirty.

He looked into it, seeing as refusing on the grounds that he didn't want to get shot would probably make him the most useless detective in Rapture. They talked a while, Booker noted any details he that could help him out. For the most part, it just sounded like someone had been taking one too many plasmids at once leaving them strung out. More a public nuisance than a danger, but ever since the ordeal with Fontaine and his crew, Ryan didn't think he could be too careful. Even still, before the bastard killed anyone, Booker abandoned his sandwich to gather his hat, coat, and badge. He paused at the door for a second, considering the sandwich and the hungry child he was willing to bet was still asleep outside his door.

With a sigh he went back for his sandwich. He hadn't really taken more than a bite out of it before Sullivan came into his office, half laughing and half bitching about the splicer, there should have been more than enough for the kid to fend off the hunger pains for a little while. Just as he suspected, there she was, curled up a little closer to his door than the night before. Her knees pulled to her chest, her eyes were glued shut, and every once in a while a shiver shook the little girl. She seemed to snap up as soon as the door slammed behind him.

"Uh… Hello," Booker greeted the little girl. She stared up with wide, worried eyes as she tried to find the words to say to him. She reminded him of a little fish, the way she opened her mouth and closed it repeatedly. "You hungry?"

The girl looked to the sandwich he was offering, and then to the much larger man. She nodded and snatched the food from his hand. "Thank you," she peeped before running out of sight. It wasn't much, but at least she took off with a semi-full belly for the day and with that, Booker made his way to the Kashmir.

It didn't take very long to see what all the hubbub was about. Sure enough there was a lead head, shouting a bunch of nonsense and firing randomly. Thankfully in directions where no one else was in the line of fire, but seeing as it didn't take much to set off a splicer, Booker needed to move quickly in order to knock out the man and get some answers.

If there was enough sense in the damn lunatic to get anything out of him.

Quickly and quietly Booker snuck up behind him. His plan would have gone without a hitch until he remembered the ritzy type watching nearby. It wasn't his first time in the Kashmir, and as always it was for business (seeing as he couldn't afford to be there for any other reason), but for some reason there was always that one guy who just couldn't keep his damn mouth shut.

"You there," shouted a man in the cowering crowd. "Get help! Get the police! Do something!"

Dammit.

The splicer didn't miss a beat, apparently there was still some sense left in him as he spun around. Booker was trick to draw but the lead head was quicker. The splicer didn't bother with some psychotic ranting, rather quite thoughtfully he pulled the trigger. It wasn't surprising, but it wasn't pleasant all the same. With a deafening bang pain exploded in his chest, he'd been hit! Luckily, it seemed the splicer hadn't focused his aim enough to hit anything too serious. At least he wouldn't bleed out too rapidly. It'd given him the time focus his own aim and fire. Luckily his shot hit the splicer between the eyes, forget about taking him alive. This guy was too dangerous to keep around. It wasn't too much longer before the room began to spin, Booker hadn't gotten more than three steps before he collapsed to the ground and everything went dark.

Booker woke up hours later, back in his office. He felt like he'd been beaten over the head with the air-grabber a few times. He tried to sit up, stopping when the sudden pain in his chest sent him right back down with a low groan. He'd thought he was alone, the gun shot another drink fused dream or one of the images he occasionally glimpsed at that left him with a migraine.

"Jesus," a familiar, friendly voice kept Booker from succumbing back to sleep. He glanced around the room to see who his visitor, not at all surprised when it was Sullivan. "DeWitt, we thought you weren't going to pull through."

"We," he croaked out. No one was with his friend, and Booker hadn't told anyone else about where he was going or what his plans were. Perhaps, Schmidt was worried when his most frequent customer hadn't come by for his fifth pack of smokes.

"Yeah, that orphan girl who's been sleeping by your door," explained Sullivan. "I thought she was one of them Little Sisters the way she kept sticking needles in you." Needles? What was an orphan girl doing, sticking needles in him? "Turns out, she was keeping you alive. Called for help and everything. Sharp little thing. By the time we got you out of there, there wasn't much left to do but bring you here."

Since most of the Medical Pavilion had been dedicated to cosmetic medicine, and the fact that Booker was slightly afraid of that crazy ass Steinman, he was certainly glad to be back in his office. Most citizens of Rapture would leave him to bleed and die in front of the Kashmir, as certainly someone would clean up the mess later.

"Where's the girl," he asked after a short while. She saved him, but why? The sandwich gesture was the first kind one he'd given her. Most of the time, he ignored her, and when he didn't it was to try and get her to go away. She would have been better off going through his wallet and leaving him there.

"She's around, I think," answered Sullivan. "I told her to stick around in case I needed something. She's been running errands for me, not a bad kid."

Just before Booker could ask something else, a soft knock interrupted him. Sullivan got up to answer it, a knock that small could have only meant it was one person – his miniature savior. She enough, as Booker lifted his head to see, there were a pair of blue eyes trying to look past the large cop in front of her.

"Good work kid," Sullivan gave her a pat on the head in approval. Her small voice peeped something, but Booker couldn't hear what she was saying. "No, he's awake, but he don't need no kids running around while he's laid up." She cast her eyes downward and nodded, she was about to leave when Sullivan stopped her with a hand full of money. "Go get something to eat."

He closed the door behind him, smirking at the questioning look he was receiving from Booker. "I never took you as the charitable type."

"I'm not, that was your money." He grunted in response, yeah that was something his friend would do.

"I've got to get back, Ryan's got some leads on Fontaine's men, they need someone to slap them around a little bit. Take care of yourself, that girl might not always be around."

Booker's mind returned to that little girl outside. He owed her a great debt, one he wasn't sure he'd ever be able to repay her. Why did she save him? It was a question his mind kept wandering back to, he wanted to ask, but if the kid was long gone it would have to wait until his strength returned to him. He'd taken enough of those first aid injections to know he'd be fine by morning, but he doubted he'd be getting much sleep with the buzzing question in his mind.

How the hell did she know where he was anyway? Was she following him? Why would she? Because of the sandwich? Maybe she was expecting something more, or thinking he was leading her along. But she made no sign that she wanted him to know she was around. Did she pick his doorstep for some other reason rather than the privacy? He wondered if he should have gone out and searched for her. Sullivan told the girl to stay away, but Booker knew she'd be back shortly. Maybe after she'd gotten some food, but she'd be back all the same.

He wasn't wrong, after an hour of lying around trying to find something to occupy the time, he finally couldn't take it anymore. The restlessness finally got to him and he was on his feet, despite his body's protest. He didn't need to go much further than down the steps to find the girl. She was watching him approach with wide eyes as he gripped the railing tightly trying to steady his self.

"Hey kid," was about as far as he'd gotten when she was up and scurrying away again. "Wait- WAIT!" He tried to give chase, but his body couldn't take much more stress. He had only gotten about halfway to the elevator she'd made it to before he dropped to a knee. The little girl paused for a moment, deciding whether or not she should help him again. Before, with sad eyes, she hit the button disappearing behind the elevator doors.

He managed to slowly get back to his office where he sat holding his side. It burned like hell - that would teach him to not be ready for them lead heads. He should have known better than to have kept his weapon holstered with one of those crazy sons of bitches, he knew they were capable of anything. All the more reason that girl shouldn't have followed him. God only know what would have happened if he hadn't dropped the splicer. It would have mistaken that kid for a Little Sister and tore her to pieces, and it wasn't like any of them ritzy people would have done anything to stop him, they would have taken the opportunity to run while he was searching for ADAM knowing he was killing a child. An innocent chi-.

That pain again, his head felt like it was being split open as images flashed before his eyes. He'd been getting them since he moved to Rapture, He could see something was there but the image was too blurry to make out any detail. Whatever it was, it was no good, the pain in his head told him that much. He pressed the palms of his hands against his eyes until the ache went away. The rest of the night was spent with a bottle of whiskey until he was hunched over his desk, passed out.

The next morning, Booker woke with a groan, the pain in his chest was finally subsiding into a dull ache, nothing that would keep him down for the day. He rubbed the back of his neck working out the stiff muscles as he readied his self for another day. Opening the door as he prepared to leave, he paused at the sight before him.

The girl, curled up next to his door sleeping peacefully aside from the few shivers. Being at the bottom of the ocean, Rapture wasn't known for its tropical weather. At least, not where Booker's office was anyway. More often than not, it was chilly enough for a jacket, he couldn't image what the girl in the thin dress felt. He sighed at the image, he did owe her for saving his ass while he was down. Again returning to his office, he grabbed the blanket from his bed and covered the sleeping girl.

She startled awake at the sudden weight on her body looking around to find Booker was already on his way to start his morning before she could thank him. Most of the day had proved uneventful, though the patrons of the Kashmir had been shaken up yesterday, it was hardly the first time they'd run into such problems. Splicers were becoming more and more of a problem daily, and it wasn't looking like there would be a shortage any time soon.

By the time Booker returned to his office, the girl was still there with his blanket draped over her shoulders like a cape. He approached her, slower this time, yet somehow more intimidating than he had the previous day. They both stopped, neither really sure what to say to one another. He looked down at the little girl, who he'd caught playing with her fingers like they were dolls. The sudden thought crossed his mind that she didn't have a single one to entertain her for the day, so she'd sit at this door pretending her hands were dolls.

"Hey," he said finally. She tentatively raised her right hand in a wave. "You helped me yesterday." She nodded. "Why?"

She shrugged, causing the blanket to fall off her. She quickly snatched it up and wrapped it around her again.

"You got a name kid?"

She froze again, wondering if she should trust this stranger. It wasn't like Rapture citizens were angels, hell most people moved there because they were anything but. But this man was nice to her… sometimes, at least he didn't spray her with the hose anymore and he shared his food with her. Maybe he wasn't so bad.

"Hey if you're going to share my porch I think I at least deserve to know your name," he reasoned with her.

"Sally," she finally spoke up.

"Sally," he repeated. "Well Sally, thank you."

"You're welcome," she answered.

They sat together a few minutes, wordlessly. Both just watching the fish swim by, still not sure what to make from each other. To Sally, Booker was a bit hardened, but with the slightest amounts of kindness. He never threatened her, never physically beat her, though he did carry her off his porch a time or two and tried to shoo her away. To Booker, there was something about Sally he couldn't put his finger on. He tried multiple times to get rid of her, but she kept coming back. She followed him to make sure he was safe, and after yesterday he wondered if this wasn't the first time she'd followed him.

"You hungry," he broke the silence between them again. Sally nodded, expecting another half-eaten sandwich before he slammed the door in her face again. Instead he stood up and offered his hand. It wasn't like him, and little did she know he was asking his self what he was doing. "Come on, I'll see what I can find around here."

Sally looked from his hand, to his face and back. Maybe he wasn't as trusting as she thought, but the grumbling in her tummy as the empty pains took over won her decision. She took his hand and he led her inside. She shivered as the blanket dropped to the floor, she immediately picked it up, apologetic that she'd let it on the floor to get dirty. He waved it off, he couldn't remember how many times he'd thrown it uselessly to the ground. She sat at his desk as she waited for whatever came next to happen, whether he tried to tear her apart or… worse.

Instead, she caught another glimpse into the man, as he did just as he said he would. He made her a sandwich and one for himself. He tossed it down in front of her, "it's not much, but it'll fill you up."

"Thank you," she said before she dug in. He nodded in response. They chatted, awkwardly – Booker had no idea how to talk to a child. He asked her questions he thought she could answer. How old she was, what she did most of the day, what sort of things she enjoyed. The only thing he could tell was that she was a sweet little girl who was dealt a hell of a bad hand. Whether it was irresponsible parents that didn't want her, or they were dead Booker wasn't sure. He wasn't even sure if it mattered, all the same it left the little girl without anyone, and he was sure he wasn't a better option. Once she finished her sandwich they parted ways again. "Well kid, I'll see you around."

"Goodnight Mr. DeWitt."

"Goodnight Sally." She was about to hand him back his blanket when he shook his head. "You keep it, you'll need it more than I will."

She thanked him for the tenth time, and he chuckled and softly closed the door behind her. As he readied his self for bed a strange thought came to him. Had he ever thought of being a father? It seemed like he did once, if only for a brief spell. What changed his mind? Sure there were enough women in Rapture who knew Booker for a reputation that went well beyond his skills as a detective, but none of them had come to him exclaiming to be pregnant. So what was stopping him from finding a nice girl and settling down to start a family? He was far from the only surly person in Rapture so his attitude was not the cause of it. He shrugged off the reasons with the shake of his head before he turned down the lights and closed his eyes. There was a reason for it, even if he couldn't place it.

He was roused from his slumber by a high pitch shriek in the night. Booker reached for the lights and paused to make sure he'd heard correctly and it wasn't from another dream. Sure enough a voice was outside his door.

"Shut up you little brat! You're going to give me what I want, you hear? You be a good little girl and come with me."

"Help!"

It was Sally! She was in trouble!

Without another moment of hesitation Booker was rushing to the door. The sight of some ADAM junkies with his hands on the child sent Booker into a rage. He lunged for the intruder, beating him senseless while Sally watched in terror. Once he'd had the junky on his back, Booker lifted the man up before slamming him against the ground enough times until a sickening crack filled the otherwise silence. The stranger's arms and legs flailed for a second before he lay completely motionless. Booker didn't have a second thought that he killed the man, the only regret he had was that he'd done it in front of the child. Sally was mortified by what she'd seen.

"Sally," he reached for her but she flinched away. "No, no it's okay. It's okay. I'm not going to hurt you."

She continued staring at the body, expecting Booker to do the same to her. When he waited for her to finally look at him, he offered her his hand again. "Come on, it's not safe for you out here. Let's get you inside."

Sally didn't move immediately. She didn't know if she could trust the man who smashed another man's head in like it was a rotten melon. On the other hand, he'd done it to save her. He was her friend, he'd fed her, he'd given her his blanket, he was kind to her and he didn't have to be. She took it and went with him. He picked her up and carried her on his hip to his bed.

"Here kid, you can have my bed. I usually sleep at my desk anyway."

"Thank you."

"Christ kid, you don't have to keep thanking me. I get it, you're grateful."

The bed seemed so big compared to her. Back at the orphanage she was always afraid she'd roll off her little bed and fall to the floor, here she felt like she was in the middle of the ocean with no signs of land in any direction. Except Booker who was already in his chair leaned back and watching the fan with feigned interest.

"Goodnight Mr.-"

"Booker. Just Booker, and goodnight Sally."

Soon Booker had fallen asleep in his chair. Sally was still too afraid to sleep over the horrors she'd witnessed. But she was grateful to have a protector, especially Booker. She'd followed him home when he had startled some goons into leaving her alone, though he had no idea he'd done it. He was drunk and those men and known him by reputation, once they caught him coming in their direction they split up, leaving Sally safely in one piece. She'd spent every night by his door since then, following him during the day to make sure he was around in case someone needed to be intimidated into running away. Sometimes she'd even pretend he was her father, seeing as she didn't have one of her own.

Now she was laying in his bed, in his home, as he had watched over her until sleep claimed him first. But the way he watched her wasn't like the way some men watched little girls, she didn't feel scared by it. Of all the splicers in the world who were afraid of Booker, a little girl was not afraid of him at all. When she found she couldn't sleep, too afraid of what might be under the large bed, she made a mad dash for the man. Carefully checking her feet to make sure no one tried to grab her little leg until she made it to her friend. She climbed up on his lap, startling him a bit before he realized it was Sally. He wrapped an arm around her protectively and rested his head against hers. Sally snuggled up to his chest and soon they were both claimed by sleep.

(A/N: So maybe I'm going to have to split this up. But it's not going to be a very long one, but I'm kinda happy with this. I don't know about Booker though, does he seem a little OOC? Or is that just me? Am I being paranoid? Anyway, you know the drill guys. Read, review, and remember; I love you!)