Okay, so I think I'm going to do with Oscar what I wanted to do with Thomas and make him a very brief character. If I do what I originally wanted with him this story is going to have far too many plot holes it'll be like the NES game E.T. and we all know how that went 'shudders'. For without further ado we have chapter 21. MOVING ON…

Also, this chapter was written while listening to Nightwish's 'Forever Yours' it's a great song and for some reason it just captures what I really wanted to convey in this chapter.

Saturday approached quickly as Dorothy darted around the house to ready herself for a night at the opera. Booker occasionally looked up from the paper he was reading to watch her in amusement. Anna, though she protested, was going to spend the day with Lily while Booker had to look over some things with Thomas. When asked what exactly they were he was looking at, he'd give her a cross look and simply reply 'things'.

Anna was smart enough to understand that meant he didn't want Dorothy to know. She had hoped he was looking into Oscar and that it meant he was going to stop him before any damage was done. He'd come to her, asking if she'd seen anything else of Elizabeth, when Anna explained Elizabeth's feelings about Oscar and that nothing good was going to come out of him. It seemed to be all the answer that Booker needed, and so when Dorothy so much as mentioned the name he straightened noticeably and held back from saying whatever needed to be said.

James had stopped by the previous day, he spoke mutedly to Booker but the expression on his face was grave. Booker nodded and whispered something back with a pat on his back. It was information in Oscar and all signs pointed to Dorothy getting hurt. While Booker was very tempted to let her learn her own lesson, he couldn't. A voice - his conscious maybe – it'd been a long time since he'd heard it, nagged him until he finally went to Thomas and asked him to find out whatever he could.

Thomas agreed, though his wagging eyebrows told him that James had not kept completely quiet about his conversation with Booker. Thomas kept hinting that these were the ravings of a jealous man, but when the evidence began to stack up, he questioned the younger man less and looked into more.

A wife gone missing for three years, Oscar's claim that she had run off with some Italian man, and a smell that was suspicious. But men like Oscar, they could pay the police to look the other way and so Booker had every intention of following Dorothy to the opera and should Oscar be so bold as to make his move, Booker would strike and strike hard.

The rest of the day passed uneventfully. He walked Anna to Lily's house, who was more than happy to take the young girl off his hands and he spent most of his day in his office going over paper work and evidence that he'd told Dorothy he had fallen behind on, though the truth was it was all news of Oscar and anything that suggested his intentions were less than honorable.

"Booker," a knock snapped him out of his work. He glanced up at the door, a quick falter on his otherwise hard expression told Dorothy exactly what she had wanted to ask him. "What do you think?"

If he were a man who was good with words, he would have called her stunning or breathtaking. An elegant blue dress her mother had reluctantly bought her, the skirt hooped out a little further than he cared for but the neckline dipped low enough to reveal her neck and stopped just before her breast both of which had very nearly been his. The thin straps that wrapped around her arms showed her shoulders and long white opera gloves raised just past her elbows. Her golden hair had been curled and tied behind her neck. She had applied rouge to her lips, making Booker want to cross his office, take her into his arms and feel them pressed tightly against his own.

But that had already driven a wedge in their friendship. Instead, he nodded at her and grunted in his usual fashion before getting back to work. Dorothy sagged noticeably, she wanted his opinion as a man, but if that was what he'd thought, who was to say Oscar wouldn't feel the same?

She groaned dramatically and slid down the wall. Booker looked up again, this time chuckling as he watched her throw a tantrum.

"Well, I'm glad you're amused by this," she pouted from the floor.

"You know, for someone so worried about her appearance what do you think your friend's going to say when he finds you on the floor?"

"You're making fun of me!"

"Someone had to, you're acting ridiculous." He helped her to stand as the hoop skirt did not leave many reaches she could use on her own her without ripping the skirt. "You look fine." He stood her up so that they were face to face. She gave him a pretty smile, realizing it was the closest they'd stood next to each other since the incident in her bedroom. Recently, he'd barely looked at her, and at that moment things felt normal between them.

"Booker," Dorothy hesitantly took a step back. "I must ask you something."

"Sure."

"What happened?" He tilted his head confused. She played with the fingers of her gloves as she spoke. "We had such a wonderful friendship, and ever since you came to me drunk, we've barely spoken. Now every time I so much as mention Oscar you stiffen – just like now!" It was no exaggeration, Booker's shoulder squared noticeably as he tried to hold his tongue. Now was not the time to start a fight with his friend, soon he would figure out Oscar's intent. "Do you hate me?"

He let out a long sigh in exasperation. "No Dorothy I don't hate you. I just… don't want you to get hurt."

"He won't hurt me."

"You sure?"

"Listen to yourself," she seemed frustrated once more as she threw her arms in the air. "I'm going to get hurt? What possible reason does Oscar have to hurt me?"

"Because your mother owns the steel mill," he offered. "Because you're a woman, because he's not the man you think he is?"

"You've got a lot of nerve to talk about men with secrets Booker DeWitt," she folded her arms. Booker just bit the inside of his lip as she rambled. "For everything you kept hidden since I've known you. I still wonder about your intentions."

"Oh yeah, and in five years you mean to tell me that you haven't figured them out?"

"What are they?"

"You're my daughter's nanny, nothing more." The icy tone had chilled Dorothy to the bone. It was true, she was simply the nanny, but it hurt her that he would say it so cruelly. He stood up and pushed past her to leave. "You want this Oscar, go for it. We'll find someone else."

"This is what I mean," she shrieked after him. He frozen but didn't turn around to face her. "Five years ago, five DAYS ago, you would have thought me irreplaceable! Now, ever since I said I didn't want to sleep with you, you treat me like I need to be thrown out like garbage." He didn't answer her as he knew the best response was to simply walk away.

"Booker," she called again with the slightest hitch in her breath. "If it upsets you this much, I'll stay. You were one of my best friends, and I'd die if I could never see Anna again. Please don't replace me."

"Dorothy," he hated when she made him feel like he was the bad guy. Perhaps it wasn't too late, he could still be honest with her. But did he really want to risk his feelings to spare hers? What if she turned him down? She'd already done it once, and while he couldn't blame her for not wanting his drunken, fool self, it hadn't felt good all the same. "I'm not going to replace you. Just… Go. He's probably going to be here soon."

Dorothy paused, not quite sure if Booker really meant what he'd said about not replacing her. "Are we still friends?"

"Yeah Dorothy," he forced a halfcocked smile and nodded. "We're still friends. I gotta meet Thomas and James, I'll probably be home after you. So if you hear some drunken fool slamming doors – peak before you charge them with a knife."

She snorted and agreed before wrapping her arms around him. Booker, same as he had in the past, just patted her awkwardly on the back before he stepped out of her reach. "Be careful with them. I'd hate for something to happen while I'm not around to nag you."

A knock at the door told them that Oscar was waiting for her. She cried out happily as she raced to the door, leaving Booker to watch after her.

"You look lovely," he could hear him say. "Are you ready?"

"Yes, let's go!" The happiness in her voice was unmistakable as they left in a rush. Booker knew all the rules to tailing someone, but Dorothy would prove difficult, especially since they knew each other.

They had made it to the opera house, and Booker had barely managed to sneak by. Thomas and James had already been waiting for him around the corner. "Jesus boy," chuckled Thomas. "You're getting ready to go to the opera, you couldn't put on a tie?"

"Do you have what I need or not," Booker asked hotly.

"We do, but you're not going to be able to get in looking like that," answered James. "We've already mapped out a way to sneak you in undetected. They're in box three, which I have no idea what that means, but I've heard it's quite fancy."

"It'll be private seating," informed Thomas. "That could also mean that it's being guarded by some of Oscar's personal men. That makes this risky."

"I can take them," Booker said confidently.

"I have no doubt, but if the rest of security gets wind of you acting belligerent and fighting, they'll physically throw you to the curb before Oscar, trust me."

"Personal experience?"

"You don't want to know. But we mustn't waste time, we've got to get you inside before it is too late."

He followed the men to the back entrance, the door swung open and a man dressed as an usher quickly waved the three inside. At Booker's puzzled glance Thomas chuckled, "As much ruckus as I cause, I know people."

"You'll find box three just up the stairs, I'd get up there just after the curtain is raised - that'll leave just you and Oscar's men. If anything seems to be going awry, we'll watch for your signal and cause a distraction."

"Wait, what signal?"

"Whenever you pull the first punch," Thomas continued. "We'll be close enough to throw ourselves in between you and anyone stopping you from getting to Oscar. Don't kill him, at least not here, too many ritzy people here will finger you as the instigator and you're going to prison at best. But if you're serious and think he's going to hurt Dorothy, get her out of here, that's the priority."

They parted ways, Booker checked for every visible exit as he made his way to box three. The sound of a woman giggling caught his attention. Five years of hearing her laugh let him know it was Dorothy though he was unsure of what direction they were coming from.

"Ah Mr. DeWitt," he startled before spinning around. Oscar with Dorothy's arm wrapped around his seemed pleasantly surprised. Unlike his company who was glaring daggers at her employer. "What brings you this way? I never would have guessed you for the opera type."

"I was looking for someone," he lied quickly. "A source told me I'd find them here tonight. I was just finding my way around."

"I see," Oscar waved Booker forward. "My box has the best seats in the building, perhaps a bird's eye view would help you locate your man sooner." Dorothy shook her head furiously, as if signaling for Booker to buzz off and mind his own business. His eyes narrowed at her, if she had any idea that he was doing this for her, she'd certainly change her mind.

"That could work," nodded Booker. "Thanks."

Oscar and Dorothy lead the way, though she glanced back every once in a while to scowl at Booker before sticking her nose back in the air with a huff.

"Here we are, the best seats in the house," he took a seat and sat Dorothy next to him while Booker looked over the balcony. Thomas and James were shrugging at him as if to ask him how the hell he managed to just sit with them undetected. "Any sign of your man?"

"No."

"Ah that's too bad," said Oscar remorsefully. "Well then, if you're not busy, perhaps you could sit with us until the end of the show."

"Oh Oscar," complained Dorothy. It would only figure that Booker would barge in on a night like this.

"Come now my dear, Mr. DeWitt would catch a death of cold if he were to wait outside. Now we mustn't argue, they're beginning."

The music was too loud for Booker to hear what they were talking about, but at least he could see enough of her expression to tell that she was still complaining about his presence. As far as he was concerned, for what he had to endure for her safety, she deserved to be a little inconvenience. He tried to make it seem like he was really interested in the opera, though really he had no idea what was going on. He couldn't speak Italian and he was paying too much attention to Oscar and Dorothy he couldn't read the body language either.

Finally it was the intermission. Booker excused himself, knowing if he got too comfortable in their presence he'd look suspicious. He claimed he thought he saw the man he was looking for and left quickly.

"Finally," huffed Dorothy as she stared at the door her friend had exited.

"Are you enjoying the show," Oscar asked as he took her gloved hand in his. Dorothy nodded with a warm smile as she curled her fingers around his own. "Good." His opposite hand reached up to the nape of her neck as his fingers traced an invisible pattern. "You know, the way that DeWitt's brat had acted towards me, I had assumed there was something going on between you two."

"Excuse me," Dorothy backed out of his reach. While she may have been annoyed with the little girl for outing her night with Booker to her mother, she still loved Anna as though she were her own.

"Was there?" He tightened his grip on her hand so that she could not pull away so easily when she tried to. "Did you fuck DeWitt?"

"That's ridiculous," with a hard yank she managed to free her hand, though without her glove. "How dare you assume - ?"

"He seems quite interested in you," growled Oscar as he advanced on her. Dorothy backed herself into a wall, though she was intimidated by Oscar's sudden change in personality it was still a public building. He would be foolish to try something if she were to call rape or something. "I saw the way he kept watching us. No doubt picturing you for himself, when he could get you alone."

"I'll have you know I've lived with Booker for five years and he's been a gentleman. You, I barely know, and this is the nasty impression you leave on me. If you'll excuse me, I am going to see if I can find Booker before there is any more unpleasantness between us."

She made to leave but he wasn't going to let her be so easily. He lunged at her, Dorothy was only able to barely dodge him as she darted for the door. She was close, so close to making it until one of his lackeys noticed the commotion, he blocked her exit. Trying to find a new option, Dorothy couldn't believe she was thinking it, but she hoped Booker could come back for her, she desperately needed her friend.

"Don't you dare Oscar," she demanded. "I'll call for help, I'll call rape!"

"You think anyone would come for you? Do you really think DeWitt is going to come back for you?" He laughed in such a maniacal way that it frightened Dorothy. Was he going to hurt her too badly? Would she be able to hide it? Would she be able to live with it? "Wallace, find that DeWitt boy, bring his body back to me when you're done with him."

"No," she cried and ran after Wallace. Oscar wrapped his arms around her forcefully. She struggled to be free, bucking and throwing as she tried to wriggle out of his arms. She tried calling for help but he backed her into the wall and forced his mouth on hers. It wasn't the same as Booker's forceful action. Though savagely, Booker kissed her with unmistakable passion, he didn't want to hurt her, he just wanted her. But he respected when she said no, even if he didn't like it. He gave her, her space when she asked him to leave.

Oscar enjoyed her discomfort as his tongue tried to slide its way into her mouth, Dorothy kept struggling to escape. Finally, when she senses began to return, her knee shot up to his groin. Oscar doubled over from the pain as Dorothy ran for the exit. She was nearly to the stairs when a hand reached for her braid and yanked her back. "You're not escaping that easily!"

It was Wallace, who somehow knew she would get free. He dragged her back to the box by her hair. Her scalp felt like it was going to rip clean off her head, which made her think of her friend again. "BOOKER! HELP ME! HE-grrk." His large hand closed over her throat and squeezed tighter as she struggled to remove the offensive hands. Oscar limped to where she was being held in place. Her legs began to grow weak as all her efforts were in vain. Wallace was simply too large to fight and his grip too tight to loosen.

"Stupid bitch," Oscar spat on her. She flinched but lazily as her vision began swimming. Oscar continued to rant at her, but everything sounded like it was underwater. The last thing she remembered was the blank look on Oscar's face before being slammed onto the ground.

(A/N: Oh Dorothy come on now! Don't worry feminists – Dorothy isn't going to spend the whole story as some damsel in distress but if you want to make an omelet, you have to break a few eggs. As for the rest of you angry that I left on a cliffy, I'm actually already about half way done with chapter 22. So you know the drill – read, review, and remember; I love you!)