Just One Dance, Pt 1

With a snap of his fingers he lit the cigarette. He took a long drag and held it in for a few moments. Exhaling slowly, he looked up and stared out one of the large glass walls. The city was fairly dark, being on the Northern Atlantic ocean floor and all, save for the glow of the occasional neon sign and spotlight.  It was late, and he had just left the office.  His left hand was shaking. He closed it in a tight fist and stuffed it into one of his trench coat's pocket. 'Christ.. Not again.'
Turning away, he walked past the tall frosted glass door to his practice, which read “Booker DeWitt, M.D. General Physician”. He strode down the hall, and down a few small flights of stairs, passing the doors of dentists and other doctors like himself, while taking the occasional drag of his cigarette. Miss Comstock, his nurse and receptionist had long gone home for the day.

After turning a few corners, he found himself at the crossroads of two staircases curving downwards. The foyer of the Medical Pavilion. It was empty and quiet, apart from the occasional hum of the neon signs. He started down the stairs, the sound of his every step reverberated throughout the spacious entrance hall, echoing off the cathedral high domed glass ceiling. There was only one place he knew would still be busy at this time of night.
“Steinman...” He said sardonically, gritting his teeth. Booker strode down the hall past many signs advertising Steinman's work, and failed to stifle a snort of disgust. Luckily, he could bypass surgery on his path to and from his office. He had tried to come to terms with Steinman's practice, the excessive use of Adam in his surgeries, but something still just didn't sit right with him about that man. Sure, it was Rapture, and of course everyone is out to make a buck, but there was something about Steinman that just struck him as fanatical. He'd argued with the man before, not to mention the numerous fist fights they'd been in as well. He knew him since medical school, and they could never agree upon a subject. He felt that Steinman had swayed to the unethical side of the practice. Opposing ideologies, he supposed. He thought that by leaving New York he'd be rid of the man, but the thought never occurred to him that Rapture was right up his alley.

Booker knew Steinman's line of work, he'd done it himself for a time. However, his main experience was not of the cosmetic nature. He had been a field surgeon for the first half of his professional career, all throughout the second world war. He'd been on he front line, witnessed war first hand, and dealt with the carnage and destruction it had reaped. Having to put together so many broken men, broken boys, took its toll on him.  Since starting his practice in Rapture, demoting himself to the position of a general physician, he had noticed his nose would bleed sometimes. More often than it really should. He wasn't surprised, the deafening ring of shell fire had probably racked his brain. Shell shock. It certainly had done him no favours and by the time he'd received his honourable discharge. Switching back to a normal 9-5 job had proved difficult for him. He'd woke many a night, yelling and shouting in sleep. Calling out for her. Some nights he just wouldn't sleep at all. He began to lack the finesse his job required, and had more and more slip ups. So, in typical New York city fashion, he self medicated with liquor and cigarettes. Gradually, the bills piled up as he began to miss appointments, being too hung over to go in. And needless to say, he accrued quite a sum of debt. So when the chance to escape to Rapture –  to escape his debts - came, he gladly took it.
“..Retirement. Huh, yeah right..” He snorted to himself.

- - - - -

'Knock knock knock'
Someone was pounding on the door to his apartment.
“Mister DeWitt! Mister DeWitt!”
“Bring us the girl, and wipe away the debt!!”
“Are you in there DeWitt?”
“Huh? What do you want with her?”
“We had a deal, DeWitt!”
“Tell me what you want with her!”
“OPEN THIS DOOR, RIGHT NOW!”
'Knock knock knock'
“Are you going to hurt her? Tell me what you want!”
“Anna? ANNA??”

'Knock knock knock'
He awoke to the sound of knocking at his apartment door.
“Anna.... Anna...” Booker mumbled sleepily.
'Knock knock knock'
“M-mister DeWitt? Hello? Are you home? It's me, Elizabeth..”
He stirred from the table, accidentally knocking over a few empty liquor bottles.
“S-sorry! Just a minute...”
'Fell asleep at my desk again, it seems.' He thought, standing groggily. 'These dreams will be the death of me..' He ran his finger's through his thick, brown, salt n pepper hair as he opened the door.
There she was, standing at his doorstep. She was dressed in her traditional nursing garb; a long, pure white dress, with soft off-white buttons from the neckline leading to the waist. Over that she was wearing a long, open navy pea coat. Sheer black tights covered her legs, and a pair of pointed black mary jane's adorned her feet. Her small white nurses cap was slightly askew, tucked in on top of her dark brown hair, which was done up in a bobbed wave, with thick waves of curls. He could see her stethoscope loosely tucked into one of the front pockets of the dress. She was wringing the thimble on her right hand nervously. Her striking blue eyes were highlighted by smokey black eyeshadow, mascara and eyeliner. They were drawn on him in a worried scowl, her red lips in a frown.
“There you are, Mister DeWitt! I went to open the clinic, but you weren't there! I put up a sign saying we are temporarily closed, and then I had to apologize to everyone, and they were VERY irate, and-”
“Whoa, whoa whoa.. Slow down... What?”
“The clinic, Mister DeWitt? It's nearly 11 am!”
“Christ! I can't believe I slept in... Give me a second, I'll grab my coat and-”
“Are you sure you're alright, Mister DeWitt?” She noticed a pair of distinct dark bags under his green eyes.
“You can call me Booker, and yea,  I.. I'm fine. Just didn't sleep well, is all.”
“Alright.. Booker.” She gave him a soft, kind smile. Her eyes met his, and he felt his heart start to thud in his chest. 'God.. She's certainly a knock out.' He thought, smirking.