"Mr. Dewitt?"

Booker raised his head, unfamiliar with the feel of polished wood, eyes wide as he tried to orient himself. He was in a café of sorts, which wasn't unusual for him, but the hardwood paneling and the plastered ceiling with dentil trim etched into the corners; that was the hallmark of a well-heeled establishment, not the seedy pubs that he frequented…where the hell was he?

"Mr. Dewitt?"

"What?" he turned his head, annoyed, but was greeted with the smile of a well-dressed waiter, who held out his hand. "I need payment for your coffee"

"Sorry, I don't got any money, I think" Booker was surprised to feel the smooth metal of coins in his pocket. Rather embarrassed, he handed a coin into the bartender's hand, and in return was presented with some coffee. When was the last time he had had a decent cup of joe? He couldn't remember.

Golden sunlight streamed in through wide plate glass windows, the establishment empty save himself and the waiter who was wiping down the counter. Booker raised his eye to see a mechanical horse clump by dragging along a vending wagon, advertisements cheerfully plastered on the side facing him. Wait, a mechanical horse? Sure enough, it was a steel monster, banging and snorting as it made its way towards the end of the street. The handful of pedestrians in the narrow street appeared oblivious to the oddity that trampled besides them, their eyes turned to the bay windows of Beaux-Arts styled buildings and the merchandise within.

"Where am I?" Booker spoke hesitantly, feeling as if he had already asked such a question.

"Heaven, or as close as we'll get to it till judgment day" the waiter said with a grin. "Although you already know that Mr. Dewitt"

"I do?"

"Certainly, you are our honored guest here after all"

"What the…" Booker felt confused, noticing that he was even attired different, wearing a tan blazer and knickerbockers. "Hold on, I'm not finished with my drink"

"But of course Mr. Dewitt"

He got up from the counter and walked slowly to the door, trying to comprehend the peculiarity of it all. He was broke and out of a job, and somehow he was in Manhattan…no…no he wasn't. His heart nearly dropped when he saw clouds, blue skies, and an enormous airship floating past at the end of the street.

"How in the world?"

"Booker?"

"Booker?"

"Huh?"

He felt pain, smelled the musty odor of an old wooded office, heard the sound of typewriters, and then saw her as he opened his eyes-the same girl from last night.

Twenty years old about, a bewitching sight to behold, with wide blue eyes and dark brunet hair still drying from the rain, an expression of both judgment and curiosity upon her face, wearing a long tan skirt and a policeman's oversized overcoat, draped unceremoniously over her shoulders.

"You look absurd" Booker drawled, feeling dizzy and sick as a headache pounded through his head.

She frowned "and you look hung-over"

"That's because I am" he groaned and slung a hand over his eyes, trying to block out the dull light that cast the room in shades of morning grey. An older woman, her reading glasses balanced precariously on the edge of a long nose, peered into the police station storage room, placing a pitcher of water and a glass upon a crate next to the door. "Miss, your dress is done drying on the radiator…would you like me to get some brandy for him?"

"I think alcohol is the last thing that he needs"

"And for the baby? I can fetch some heated milk for you"

"That would be wonderful Ma'am, thank you"

"Who's that?" Booker murmured.

"It's Miss Cynthia Wolfe of the police station to you sir! And if I were your wife I would be about ready to divorce you after your irresponsibility last night. Really Miss Columbia, I think you deserve much better than that drunkard"

"He's an old friend" Elizabeth said rather nervously, turning pale. "and I'll not be his husband even if the president asked me to marry him"

But Booker hadn't heard, murmuring something unintelligible as he turned over on his side. Cynthia shook her head. "sensible girl, but why you are even concerned with his well-being I can't figure"

"Because of her" Elizabeth looked down at the sleeping Ana in her arms. "His wife is dead actually, I'm here to pick up the pieces"

"Well let me do something to help. Nothing but whores and the deranged of us woman that end up in this precinct. It would be good to have some company" Cynthia smiled. "You sound like a suffragist"

"Excuse me? I'm new in town"

"Country girl?"

"You could say that" Elizabeth said anxiously. "but really, I just want to help him and Anna"

A bell rang and the buzz of voices in the other room grew louder. "Blast, more union strikers to deal with. The world of men is absolutely insane Miss Columbia, and I say that you should join the suffragist movement for the good of the country. I'll be right back with the milk" Cynthia hurried off, closing the door behind her.

"Thanks?" Elizabeth was unsure of what to think. She didn't quite like the sound of 'suffragist' she had enough suffering of her own to deal with. Anna had been unusually quiet. Elizabeth had always read about baby's crying incessantly but Anna had been so tolerant of the rain, even being left alone at the orphanage and being picked up by a complete stranger that Elizabeth was beginning to wonder whether Booker had been a good father after all. Although history told her that he didn't seem to care about his daughter, the peaceful look on Anna's pudgy face seemed to contradict that.

If only Booker was awake he could tell her a thing or two, although this wasn't the Booker that she knew. He was younger by 20 years, but his scraggily face and scars gave him the same weathered look that she remembered him for as her protector during her last days in Columbia. Rapidly moving eyes beneath his eyelids and his furrowed forehead suggested dark dreams, reminding Elizabeth that he had as dark and murky a past as her own, and she felt a pang of sympathy for the man, although not too much. She would have a word with him when he did wake up about his suicidal intent and drunkenness, but she could wait. After all, there was plenty to think about.

The romance of Paris and its crown of the Eiffel Tower had always fascinated Elizabeth more than New York. After all, New York was not the center of Art-Nouveau and the cultural kingdom in which George Feydeau wrote plays, Sergei Diaghilev performed ballets at the Palais Garnier, the posters of Jules Cheret were advertising the World Fair of 1900, and Auguste Escoffier transformed Haunt-Cuisine in the Hotel Ritz Paris. But…

She opened the window and stuck her head out, closing her eyes and taking a waft of morning air, detecting the salty smell of the ocean and fresh rain. It was Tuesday, April 5, 1895 and the City was waking up. The harbor was already jam packed, and Elizabeth couldn't help but delight in the sight of hundreds of packet ships, their sails bundled up upon tall masts that reminded her of a great forest of sorts, sluggishly moving up and down the Hudson, overtaken by the chuffing of ocean-going paddle vessels, their decks crowded with early morning travelers and cargo. Ferries unleashed an endless chortle of whistles as they continued their endless task of bridging the waters, while the city itself answered back with a roar of clanging trolley bells and the rumbling of elevated rail trains.

"Oh sweet reality, and all your notions, sundries, and novelties"

"What, never seen a city before?" Booker was still half-way asleep as he lifted his head "why is the floor so uncomfortable?"

"Is the floor supposed to be comfortable?"

"Yeah, the rotting parts. The wood gets all soft and…who are you?"

Elizabeth blinked. This was too surreal. "I'm Elizabeth Columbia"

Booker let out a gravelly chuckle "Where were you born, the World's Fair?"

"To an extent Mr. Dewitt"

He coughed as he sat up, clumsily trying to stand on his feet "Yeah yeah World's Fair my ass, where's my whisky?"

In the other room, the police station secretaries heard a loud slap from the storage room followed by a "What the Hell!"

"You crazy girl, what are doing!" Elizabeth was tugging at Booker's lapels, furious as he attempted to free himself. "Get, get off of me!"

"Now Mr. Dewitt, you listen close! I came a long way to help you, and I did not come to deal with an uncouth, lazy drunkard that I had to save from committing suicide! Now get a grip and be a man for once!"

"Go to hell! Where you from, one of them mission girls? I'm far past redemption!"

"But Anna's not!"

"What do I care!?"

Elizabeth threw the pitcher of water on him, sending a quart of water splattering off his shoulders and on to the floor. Booker flinched, jerking at the unexpected singe of cold water, spluttering as he tried to clear his nose.

"of all the things to say Mr. Dewitt, that is intolerable" she spoke in a grave and quiet voice. "If you say or do anything in this manner, I am leaving once and for all"

There was a minute of silence between them as Booker continued to seethe and splutter, but slowly he calmed down, sniffing as he wiped a wet hand to clear his vision, breathing deeply. There was a spark of clarity in his bloodshot eyes that she hadn't seen before and his belligerence had vanished. Instead, she only saw a shaken man, acting as if woken from a nightmare.

"thanks" his voice was now a horse whisper "I needed that"

Anna began to cry. To Elizabeth's astonishment, she watched as Booker got up and walked over to pacify his daughter, and saw a sudden look of guilt upon his face. "Anna" he murmured. "Just calm down, daddies having one of his moods" he looked over and looked at Elizabeth in the eye. "My apologies"

"I'm not the one to be sorry too, it's your daughter after all"

"Yeah well I don't deserve her. Jesus I must have been drunk"

"To commit suicide? To leave her at the orphanage? Perhaps you were"

"Ha, that's an understatement."

"Then why did you get drunk?"

"really? You wonder why? I'm penniless Miss Columbia, and I was fired yesterday, so in that situation I preferred to be drunk. Actually it's not unusual and…" he faltered. "I've said too much"

Anna's crying continued to fill the room. Booker gently rocked the child and cuddled her to his chest to no avail. Elizabeth winced, although she had no clear idea of what to do, but she could at least break the silence.

"So" she got up and came over to Anna, staring down at the baby's unhappy face. "she's a good baby?"

Booker threw back his head and laughed. "If only I were a better father. Poor girl, left home by herself for an hour or two sometimes. Underfed, uncared for…God its awful. There's a reason why she would have a better life in an orphanage, and even that I can't pay for"

"She's a pretty little girl" Elizabeth felt so awkward to say that about…herself. Another version of herself of course from a different reality, seventeen years younger and more neglected, but there was still a sparkle in those baby blue eyes that was unquestionably here's, the way her face was twisted in unhappiness that was her expression and a sort of infantile intelligence that made Elizabeth realize that, this was, basically, Elizabeth much younger. It was enormously strange.

"I know. A gift that I can hardly can take care of"

"Well then what are we sitting around here for?" A determination was building within her to take care of both her father and Anna. That's why she was here, to act as a catalyst for that happy ending of all things that she so desperately sought, and nothing would prevent her from doing so.

"Huh?"

"if I were you two, I would head down the Whittling Settlement house down on Grand Street" both Booker and Elizabeth looked over in surprise to see Cynthia once again peering through the door. "Your dress miss, here you are"

"Much appreciated Miss Wolfe, what was that about a House?"

"The Whittling Settlement house offers good meals and a place to stay for a night or two. I know some friends there personally who can get you in and give that baby some proper care." Cythia smiled. "you two make quite the striking pair"

"Us?" Booker said in a bewildered voice "Miss, we are complete strangers and…"

"Quiet" Cynthia hissed "I meant the child and the lady. You not at all!"

"Thanks" Booker grunted. "here Liz, you take her since you are the mother apparently"

"But!" Elizabeth almost laughed at the absurdity of the situation. She took Anna and held her, trying to think of something to do to calm the crying baby, before it struck her.

Hush little baby don't say a word

Mama's going to buy you a mocking bird

And if that Mocking bird don't sing

Mama's going to buy you a diamond ring

And if that diamond ring don't shine

Mama's going to sing you this little rhyme

So hush little Anna don't make more sound

You're safe now and happiness shall abound

Anna was entranced by the sound of singing, eyes wide and mouth in a small smile, waving her tiny hands towards Elizabeth contentedly. There was a sudden warmth, so wonderful within Elizabeth's heart that she felt like she could burst; a joy that was so pure and genuine that exceeded that of learning, painting, exploring, and all of the things that Elizabeth had thought had been what made herself happy. Love blossomed for the girl, and she leaned down to nuzzle the small child and feel the warmth of the baby on her check. This was the reason why she had come, to experience, to feel, to sing and to give of her soul for a greater good and it felt divine.

Looking up, more visitors had filed into the room. A red faced policeman dominated the room, standing like Goliath above them, alongside some younger woman not much older than her, dressed in the dull colors of Cynthia, staring at her with wide smiles.

"That was beautiful miss" one of them said.

"Oh yes, you are a wonderful singer" the other followed. Blushing, Elizabeth only murmured a 'thank you' and looked over at Booker, whose mouth had come open at some time during the song, and his hands were dangling by his sides, he was stunned.

"That was lovely" a policeman spoke with a heavy cockney accent. "Broadway could aught use some lasses like you sometimes, you put them to shame. Haven't heard singing like that since Belfast"

"Well, I got Anna to calm down so that's the audience response I wanted" Elizabeth beamed.

The policeman nodded, before turning stern eyes on Booker. "As for you, ya stocious gom, now that you're awake, I've have a warrant for an arrest on one Booker Dewitt for fraud and unpaid debt, and public disorder on three counts"

Booker just gulped. Cynthia shooed the girls back to their typewriters, before taking Elizabeth aside to give Anna some milk and change her diaper.

"I really don't give a toss about ya drunkurds getting in a tumble with your friends and then taking money from them and neva paying. But I suppose that you might be doing the public a service if ya clean yourself up and get this here lass and the babe to some shelter and safety. My wife works at the Whittling House. She'll get you in. If I see that you do the right thing, I'll make sure that every cop in Jersey will look the other way. Leave her alone and jail is the last thing you'll be worrying about, are we on common ground here fella?."

"Y…yes sir. Who should I ask for?"

"Mrs. McDonagh. She's a good woman and a good Christian, she'll see to your needs. I'll even escort you there"

"Thanks but…"

"Miss Cynthia, I'm goina be hauling this pair down to Grand Street. Are we ready?"

Elizabeth was dressed in her blue dress that once again, made Booker wish he could find out why she was painfully familiar, but her smile and blue eyes made him ask whether it mattered where she came from at all. "Ready as ever!" she exclaimed "Mr.?" she stuck out a hand towards the police officer, who grinned beneath his heavy mustache.

"William McDonagh at your service. Now Cynthia, would you kindly file those reports I turned in while I'm gone?"

"Certainly Officer, and you see these two safely to their destination"

"Righto Cythia, come on you two, time's a wastin'"

Booker shrugged, wondering whether God really was watching over him. "What do I have to lose?" he opened the door, letting Elizabeth through. She was perky and bright, bearing Anna cheerfully as she strode with a sort of confidence that made him worry. She didn't seem to quite understand that beyond the door, New York, and all its traps and tricks, was waiting.

Thanks to the following reviewers.

compa16

Markisreal

Uemei

senpen banka

Robofin117

MrCheeseCake54

Joe

baltz00

Sam

Special thanks to RYNO IV for advising