Author's Note: I'm terribly sorry for the long hold up. Life was in the way and I had my attention on someplace else. Finally I could give you all the next chapter, there's a lot of talking and I became emotional when I wrote some things in the middle part but all in all, pretty glad that I could wrap this chapter up, more or less. Hope you enjoy it, again sorry for the late upload and thank you for being kind and patient people...

Chapter 3: Visions

He didn't know it, but he was likely dreaming. He was in a state where dream and reality can be muddled and he wouldn't know which was real and which was not. Such state could bring confusion or distraught, but for a handful of people, they could see the difference and know the real thing. But one particular person could manipulate such things with ease. One that he once met a long time ago.

In his vision, he was at the door to massive lighthouse, built by stone and decorated by ornaments of gold. It was a massive building in the middle of the open ocean. Sea stretched on for miles and miles with no end, without even any land in sight. Like a lone fortress stood in the middle of the ocean. A lone fortress which held a very dark secret deep beneath its confined walls. The door, built out of solid gold, was slightly opened and a ray of light shone through. Strangely, he seemed to recognize the place, as if he had been here before. But he was sure he hadn't been here, has he? With questions doubting his sane mind, he decided to go through the large door and investigate this place further. When he got through, he saw a whole new scenery.

Before him was a sight he thought he would never see again. He was back in the river, where he once refused the baptism. The sun was shining bright as it always would and the river flowed in a calm pace. In front of him was a girl who was standing alone in the river bank. She didn't looked at him. She was looking down at the river, as if there was something to look at.

He slowly approached her, careful not to startle her. She looked awfully familiar, although he'd swear he had never seen her before. But as he walked towards her, her head cocked up as if she was on alert. She turned quickly and the two of them saw each other.

They seemed to be frozen, as if both of them was seeing a ghost from each of their past. Her eyes widened while his eyes was full of confusion. Then, she started to speak...

"Booker..?" Her eyes was still red with tears. Her words came out like a whisper and still she couldn't believe what she was seeing.

He on the other hand was still coping with what he was seeing. She was the girl from his dreams. The girl who brought him pain and anguish on his mind. His daughter who never was.

"Booker... How-" She traced back on what she was going to say, "How are you even here?"

"You..." He was gathering his words and thoughts. He was finally meeting his daughter for once. The girl who haunted him from the very start. The girl whose name had been hidden deep inside of his mind. "Elizabeth..."

Out of nowhere, a sharp pain began to attack his mind. He almost tumble down the river as it was too unbearable for him. He pressed his right hand into where the pain was the strongest and steadied his body with his left hand on his knee. He felt something on his nose and when he wiped it with his hand, a sign of blood was present. Afterwards, a trickle of blood went down the river, following the stream.

He looked at her with a pained gaze, his vision was blurred with a black and white whilst she looked at him with a concerned look.

"Booker..." She reached her hand out, wanted to help him. But she wasn't quick enough to do so.

"Goddamnit..."

Booker woke up from his wheelchair whilst inhaling air into his lungs. He had this vivid feeling of drowning underwater when he dreamt. This was the umpteenth time this happened and every time it happened, there would be blood running out under his nose.

"Jesus, Booker... What the hell happened to you?!" Slate said as he was sitting at Booker's bed, his temporary resting place after agreeing he would stay at his place for the mean time.

Booker gently rubbed his head to where the pain has subsided, "Its nothing to be worried about, Slate... I've been having this for quite some time."

"You've had this once before?" Slate asked with a baffled look.

"A few times before..." He paused for a second, "Several times..."

"Good God, Booker... You need to see a physician!" Slate insisted with what Booker was experiencing at the moment.

"No! No need to do that. I'm fine, Slate..." Booker tried to stand up from his chair and walk towards his stove to get a warm cup of water. Unfortunately, his legs didn't do a good job of supporting his entire body which resulted him trembling like a drunkard. He tried his best to get a proper footing, but in the end his legs gave out and he almost collapsed to the ground. Luckily, his hands still worked and it grab hold of his table in time before he fully stumble to the floor.

"Damn, Booker. You look like you're someone having an early drink in the morning!" Slate said with a hint of a chuckle in his voice.

"Look, it's alright, Slate. The headache would go away in a matter of min-" Before he could finish his own sentence, Booker finally fell on the ground as the pain of the headache was way too severe for him to endure.

"Christ! That's it! I'm going to find you a physician." Slate did his best to re-position Booker to a better posture. He made Booker lean to the base of his table and quickly sought for help outside the building.

"Wait here, Booker! I'll be looking for help, so don't move!" Slate said to Booker as he dashed out from the room and unto the streets, but Slate carelessly close the door and so it was left open in only a few inches.

Booker saw the way Slate left things and he tried his best to close it, fearing any other people might come in and took advantage of the rare situation. With the pain still on his mind, Booker began to crawl towards the door. He bared the ever-present pain in his head, but that didn't matter to him. What mattered was that he close the door and keep any potential danger away from his home and away from his Anna.

But alas, he heard footsteps out in the hallway. Booker heard it and sensed danger. The footsteps that he just heard was a too light for it to be Slate. Slate's footsteps would be much heavier and a tad bit wonkier. As best as his efforts were, Booker only managed to move a few inches towards the door. The pain in his head sharpened and he was forced to stop and just breathe for a second.

The door slowly opened, but unfortunately Booker couldn't look up and see who this perpetrator really was. Booker was, apparently, at their mercy. He was unable to do anything except endure the pain and wait for them to get it over with. They took a step forward and gazed randomly at the room and when they saw Booker in the floor, they crouched down and examine him. They then tried to get him up and tried to move him somewhere else.

"What the hell are you doing?" Booker resisted, but he didn't put up much of a fight while in the state he was in.

"It would be better for you to be quiet, Mr. Dewitt..." They, or rather she, said in a hushed tone. The woman tried her best to drag Booker toward his bed, but with her petite body, she needed to bring up an extra effort.

A moment later, Booker found himself on his bed with the woman facing away from him. The pain was still there and he could feel himself slowly succumbing to a deep sleep.

"Who are you?" Booker managed to ask.

"My identity is not of your concern, Mr. Dewitt..." The woman replied, still she faced away.

"How do you even know my name?" There was distress in his voice. The woman might have been a part of an illegitimate organization that had been tracking him down.

"I know you, Mr. Dewitt. I know everything about you. But, now you will drop that topic for your own well-being, Mr. Dewitt." His worst nightmares had finally manifested. Might this woman be the kidnapper? Will she take Anna away from him for the second time? He had to question her.

"Why are you here, exactly?" He could feel himself succumbing to a deep sleep, he had to get answers from her. He needed to know who she was.

"Is it not common for stranger to help out a man in need of help?" She tried to dodge the question, that one was clear.

"No, it is not. Not in The Bowery..." Booker answered and she was completely silent, "Have I met you before?" Booker asked due to his familiarity to her voice. Yes, he thought he had that same exact voice once before.

"No we have not..." She chuckled, "Not yet anyways." She quietly said that to herself. Booker noticed her quiet laughter. It was so familiar to him, as if he had her that exact laughter before.

Booker narrowed her eyes and began to notice her more carefully. She had a very dark brown short hair and she wore a dark blue blazer and a hint of a white corset on her with a long skirt that matched the color of her blazer. The way she dressed was different with any other women he knew at that time. Even Annabelle herself- No that memory is too painful to remember. She suddenly got up and move towards the other door. She looked intently at it, as if she was guessing what was held inside.

Booker became more distressed as the woman took interest with the door. She examined it as carefully as possible, as if trying to remember what room this was for.

"What is inside this room?" She asked, still she didn't show her face.

"None of your concern..." Booker lowered his voice to give off an intimidating tone.

Without his permission, she opened the door and walked through. Booker tried to get up and stop her but his body had weaken and he was in no shape to get up. A few moments passed and she exited the room with something on her hands.

"No, don't you dare... Don't you take her away from me!" Booker demanded, but unfortunately in his shape, he didn't have the power to do so. Instead, the woman came out, cradling the little one gently and carefully on her arms. Anna was quiet and she didn't fuss about anything. She seemed to be oddly enjoying her time with this woman. It was as if she knew the stranger by heart. How could she, a stranger, calm little Anna. Whenever she was with Slate, Anna would bring a maelstrom of cries. The only thing that would keep her down was Booker holding her close to his chest.

As Anna was being held by this peculiar woman, she made no sound, not even the littlest one, and was enjoying the presence of the her holder. Anna smiled and gave a little laugh and the woman seemed to smile back. She then began to hum a familiar song. A melody to please Anna's heart. A song Booker had heard from a long time ago. Oddly enough, aside of this woman comforting his own daughter, Booker swore that particular song that just he heard had not yet been made until somewhat a few years later.

"She's so precious..." The woman walked over to the table and sat on Booker's chair finally facing his way, unfortunately the window didn't gave too much light due to the rolling clouds. "What's her name?" She asked her eyes still fixed to the baby.

"Anna..." Booker said, "Her name's Anna Elizabeth Dewitt..."

"Anna Elizabeth?" Something held in her throat when she said her name, similar to a person who was holding back tears. "That's-" She needed a moment to recover herself, "That's a very beautiful name..."

The clouds passed by and light finally came through so that Booker could see and identify the intruder. After a good look at her, Booker realized who she was. Who she really is...

Then another pain was triggered in his head. He winced in pain as tried to bare it, but his body was weakening and he had no choice but to let his body rest for the time being.

"Booker!" The woman quickly went to his side, kneed, and saw what was wrong with him. "Oh no, not again..." The woman somewhat knew the symptom that he was currently experiencing. She placed Anna on the table and made sure she wouldn't fall for some reason. She then went back to Booker and put her hands on his, squeezing it tightly, helping in any way she can. "Please just calm down, everything will be alright..."

Booker had to say something. She's finally here with him, but the pain didn't let him to do so. The only he can say were only a few words, not forming any sentences.

"Elizabeth..." Booker said. She paused. He knew who she was. After what they had been through. After drowning his own father, he still remembered her. There was a chance for her to start over. To begin anew in a new life filled with hope and opportunity. Her family was in front of her, she could be with them right here right now.

But this invaluable moment must come to an end. She had a job to do. She had to finish what the two of them had started. The debt had not yet been paid in full.

As Elizabeth was about to leave, Booker spoke three words that she wanted to hear so badly.

"Stay... Don't go..."

It was hard for her to leave. She had a dilemma she had to choose, a struggle between what she wanted to do and what she needed to do. Her decision will define herself in the times to come. A family member or a person who collects debts. One thing is certain though. She is a Dewitt, and Dewitts always pay their debts. Whatever the cost. She learned that from her father.

"I'm sorry, Booker..." Elizabeth stood up, her eyes red from flowing tears. "I have to go. There's something I need to do..."

"Goodbye, Booker."

Booker felt her lips on his forehead and a moment later, she was gone. He felt himself slipping from consciousness. Before he went into a deep sleep, he could sense Slate's footsteps coming towards him and another set of footsteps which were more calmer. The door slammed open and Slate came through with two people behind him. A pair of familiar twins.

"Dammit..." He then went down under.

Down under, in the darkness, Booker heard voices. Muffled voices from another place. He felt himself being treated by these people. They tried their best to stabilize him, keeping him from bleeding out. But he was focused on one thing. He had the will to live for one thing only. His daughter, or rather, daughters. It was the only thing that kept him going. He would never forgive himself if he left Anna alone with herself. Slate was a good man, but he wasn't the perfect father figure for her. There weren't many people in the world that deserved his trust. And it would be best that things stayed that way. No one would ever again interfere with the Dewitts. No one...

As he felt a renewed strength surged through his body, he saw a light, shining in the darkness. A warm and blinding light. He reached forth, and everything went white. He was still laying down on his bed, eyes still closed. He tried to move, but it seemed that his body was still recovering from the initial faint. Luckily, his sense of smell and sound still worked perfectly, only his motor controls were incapacitated. He unintentionally heard a whispered conversation between the two familiar twins he met not a long time ago. What they were conversing was more than just interesting.

"-was here?"

"Yes."

"And how would you know that?"

"Could you not sense the disturbance in the air?"

"No, I could not."

"Pity..."

"How do you sense such things?"

"As beings who have transcended beyond the mortal plane, it would be natural for other senses to be developed."

"And you have this other senses?"

"Yes."

"But why do I not have these things?"

"Like I said, brother. Pity..."

"Well then, what was her intention of being here? What would she gain out of it?"

"She missed her father, or she tried to help him to what Slate said he was experiencing..."

"A very familiar circumstance, won't you agree sister?"

"Oh please... Yours was a blood bath. This one is more of an-" She was looking for right term, "-excessive nosebleed..."

"Excessive nosebleed?! Sister, there's blood all over the floor and you call this an excessive nosebleed?!"

"Yes."

"Sister, you broke my heart..."

"Well why don't you patch yourself up then? I do think you're more than capable of doing that..."

Booker didn't understand a word they were saying, instead he tried to move himself, if only a finger would make them notice his presence. He tried to lift up a finger if any of his strength had virtually returned. He also tried saying something, a few babbled words might also do the trick.

After a few grueling moments, Booker managed to tap his fingers on the steel railing at the bottom of his bed. That caught the attention of the two twins and the seasoned veteran.

"By God, Booker... You're alive!" Slate had been sitting on the chair, wondering how Anna managed to get herself from her crib to the table. Fortunately, Anna was napping all the time everything happened. She slept through her father's treatment like a log, making no sudden movements at all.

"Well, look who's finally awake!" Robert said the obvious, "How are you feeling, Mr. Dewitt?"

Booker couldn't say a straight sentence. His throat was too dry to even blurt out anything. "Water..." Was the only thing that he could say.

"Right." Slate got up and walked over to the stove where a warm cup of water was being heated. "Here you go, Dewitt." Slate handed the cup to Booker. With enough body strength, Booker sat on his bed after lying down for awhile. He grasped the cup and drank it in a single swallow.

"Whoa, take it easy there, Corporal. That's hot water right there. It could've burned your throat out." Slate remarked Booker.

"Honestly, Slate, I don't give a damn if the water was hot or not." Booker finally said, "When a man's thirsty, he's gotta drink."

"Well now, with all that settled, I'm glad that you're fine now, Mr. Dewitt. I do think that we should be leaving, we have errands to attend to and we don't want to be late." Robert said nonchalantly.

"Wait." Booker stopped them, "How did you patch me up?"

"Oh. Well, that handy work is all thanks to my dear sister, Rosalind here."

"You knew of my sickness?" Booker asked her.

"Yes, I do. In fact, my brother was the one who had a similar case like yours."

"How did you get over it?" Booker questioned.

"Well, a soothing melody would make the mind calm. I also had my sister who had a big part to play." Robert eyed his sister which made her roll her eyes.

"So, what should I do?"

"Let yourself be calm, Mr. Dewitt. Find anything that would make yourself be calm and peaceful. That is the only advice I could give to you, Mr. Dewitt." Rosalind said regrettably.

"If I may, does this distress also provide-" Booker hesitated, "-visions?"

"What do you mean?" Robert queried.

"In the midst of the pain, I saw someone else in the room with me."

"Go on..." Rosalind said.

"There was this woman who helped me get on my bed, then she went over to the other room and held Anna on her arms. At first she was the one who as going to steal her from me. Instead, she sat on the chair and cradled her while humming an oddly familiar tune that somehow I knew. When I took a good look at her, I saw an older version of my daughter. I mean, isn't it mad? My older daughter holding her younger self in her arms? Who would see such a thing?" Booker left the question hanging, no one had the faintest idea to what he was blabbering about.

"Anyways, the pain was too great I didn't have the strength to keep myself awake. She came over to me and held my hands and told me everything would be fine. I called her name and told her in that moment of weakness that she should stay, but she said that she had to do something. She disappeared without a trace and that's when I saw the three of you barging in..."

Nobody said a word as Booker had finished his story. Slate was dumbstruck to even give a piece of his mind, whilst the twins were silent as if they had a thought process in their heads. Rosalind finally raised her voice to address the situation.

"It's not rare phenomenon for having hallucinations, or as you say visions, in these particular issue, Mr. Dewitt. Think of it as your mind trying to mend itself by providing these things to keep you calm." Rosalind deduced the issue with precision, but that didn't lift the weight on Booker's heart.

"So, what you're trying to say is that all of the things that I saw weren't real?"

"I can't say that, Mr. Dewitt. You yourself must find out. Besides, you're an investigator." A hint of grin formed on Rosalind's face, "You'll get to the bottom of that..."

"Alright. Thank you for helping me out here. I owe you two a lot..." Another debt, Booker thought.

"Please, Mr. Dewitt. It's fine. I think you've owed enough." What Rosalind said puzzled him. What did she know about debts?

"Well then, if we're all done, we must be going." Both the Luteces then proceed to made their way out.

After a brief pause, Slate commented on the two, "What an odd pair of twins..."

"Somehow I've known them long before I met them..."

"Funny, I feel the same way as well. By the by, do I get the sense that you knew these people?" Slate ask inquisitively.

"Actually, they came to my place, asking about the building." Booker gave a straightforward answer.

"Were they going to buy it?"

"Beats me..." Booker then had a thought, "How did you get them to help me?"

"Well they were on the street while I was trying to find a physician. I asked if they know any doctors around and when they ask what for, I said that it was for you." Slate explained.

"And what they came with you, instead?"

"Don't you look a gift horse in the mouth. Just feel lucky that they were able to help you out, alright?" Slate said.

"Yeah... By the by, Slate."

"Yes?"

"Thanks..."

"Your welcome, Corporal." Slate then noticed Anna waking from her deep slumber, hungry no doubt. "Ah, the little one wakes. Let me make her some milk." Anna didn't cry aloud, but she gave a few whimpering sounds, signalling what she needed.

"No, Slate let me do it. You go on ahead and rest. I want to have some quality time with my daughter." Booker got up and stretched his body. His muscles were a bit cramped after sleeping for so long.

"Well, if you insist, Corporal." Slate made his way to the bed and rest.

Booker took some time to prepare Anna's lunch. It involved fresh milk from the market and the stove for heat to killing any germs. After several minutes or so, Booker walked over to his chair and sat down with the warm bottle in his hands. He cradled Anna and gave her the milk she so desired. Anna accepted the milk instantly, drinking it rapidly like his father drank the warm cup of water. The sight itself amazed Booker. Never did he imagine his life to be this way. Serene peaceful and wholesome.

As he did this, he remembered one moment in his vision. A song that he had not yet know, but in his heart, he knew how it goes. Feeling a bit cheery, he sang what he thought was the chorus of the song.

"Will the circle be unbroken

By and by, by and by?

There's a better home awaiting

In the sky, in the sky?"