This came to me as I started imagining what kind of father Booker would be if everything wouldn't have happened, and it turned into a mindfuck...
If you don't entirely understand what is happening, please PM or review.

In my arms

He watched with a small smile as she played in the little meadow, collecting wild daisies and dandelions. She was giggling in mirth as she crouched down to blow one of the dandelions, rehearsing a little poem about fairies that live in the stems of the flower. Her blue dress was starting to stain green by the grass she was constantly kneeling on, but he decided not to spoil her fun. From the safe distance she was in, he could see she had started making a flower crown, winding the little stems around each other with precision that only a seven year old's fingers could. The happy smile on her cute little face never faltered, and it made him smile even more.

He never really was one to grin broadly out in open light, showing the world his happiness and prancing around in it. But at times like this, when he would just watch his daughter jump around in glee, he simply couldn't help the smile that would creep at the corners of his mouth. His heart would swell almost painfully seeing her so carefree, and he just couldn't understand why in the back of his heart sadness would gnarl at him.

Almost every night he would have terrifying nightmares, visions one could say, of his beautiful baby girl being torn away from. Haunting images flashes in front of his eyes of her little face and tiny chubby fingers reaching out for him. They would make him almost sick to his stomach, the simple thought of losing his daughter. When she was a baby, the 'visons' haunted almost every night in the form of a blurry picture with muffled sounds and unrecognizable faces. During the day they would hit him in the face like storm ram, making the world around him nothing but a vague noise at the back of his head. As she grew older the images became less, when she would waddle into his room late at night, asking if she could sleep in his bed, the nightmares wouldn't come at all. Even simple things like her playing with daisies made a shiver run up his spine.

But he couldn't shake the constant feeling of how real they felt and how he felt like they would always return, like a demon constantly breathing in his neck. He had to even reassure himself that his daughter was in fact there and that those nightmares weren't real life. But looking at her always helped. Her bright, cheery smile always lifted his normally grumpy mood on even the worst of days. His old drinking partner –he had kept to a minimal after she was born- with whom he still often kept in touch had called her a protecting angle. The only thing that could help him out of the shit holes he created for himself.

"Better keep a close eye on her, she going to be snatched away from ya just like that, them pretty girls like her. And what would a good for nothing like you be without his protecting angle, no one to put a band aid on the boo-boo's and no one to throw the change for the vending machine to you when you run out."

That is what he had joked one night when he took her to his favourite bar, while she played pool with one of the roughest men in town, who turned out to be not as rough as they thought. He had called him an idiot –and had then hit him for calling him a good for nothing-. But the words that he had barked out in laughter stung at him like a nasty burn. The words seemed almost painfully truthful, a feeling he had hidden by punching him in the arm again.

But when she had turned seven three months ago, he had put up a new 'resolution', as you could say. He was going to ignore these nightmares, these weird daydreams, and these nagging feelings. He was going to focus solely on her, because she was in fact here, she was right in front of him. He could just swoop her giggling little whole in his arms and hold her in his arms. Because she was real, she was alive and she was well.

"Daddy, daddy!"

He looked up at, a crown on daisies now on her head, and caught her charging form in his arms. "What is it Anna?" he asked and quickly glanced over her to see if she had any injuries.

She took out a small handkerchief from her dress pocket and begun dabbing it against his nose. "Your nose is bleeding again," she said in a sweet little nose and continued to tend to his injurie.

He brought his index and middle finger to his nose, the crimson liquid staining on the tops, and heaved a sigh as a shot of a headache pierced through his brain. "I should really go the doctors, chronicle nosebleeds ain't the healthiest of things. Not to mention the pounding in my head that always follows," he mumbled mainly to himself.

"You know," Anna started as she drew her hand back from his nose, "I heard a story about that from the funny lady that always walks through town. You know, the one with the pretty honey brown hair! What's her name? Rosie?…. I don't know anymore."

"I'm sure it's a really interesting story, but it's starting to get dark so we should get going," he said as he got up from his sitting position with a grunt. "You can tell me the story on the way home."

He scooped her up in his strong arms as Anna immediately started to protest about leaving her 'special meadow'. He teasingly ignored her pleas to stay, instead humming a small song he had once learned on the guitar. Soon she began to get annoyed with his tactics and started punching his chest with her small fists. He chuckled as she continued her quest to stay.

"I don't want to tell my story anymore! You're probably too stupid to understand anyway!" she finally said with huff and crossed her arms defiantly.

Her insult made him chuckle again as he hoisted her higher on his hip. "You should watch your tongue young lady, I am your father," he said more jokingly than seriously.

He caught her grumbling something under her breath as he got closer to their car. A content smile stayed on his rough face as he opened the door and eased her into the passenger's seat. Once he was seated, he turned on the engine, activating the loud and rumbling device for take-off.

"Hey Anna."

She stopped sulking to look up at her father's face.

"You know I would never leave you, nor would I ever forget you," he said, not taking his eyes off the road.

She sat stunned for a moment until the frown on her face disappeared and she started laughing again. "You're so cheesy daddy!"

In the outskirts of the meadow, near the tall brown oak trees, a rather beautiful girl was hidden behind the thick trunks of the forest. Her dark brown hair blew softly in the summer breeze and her blue eyes stood glassy, unshed tears brimming at the corners of them. Her red painted nails clamped down on the bark of the tree, surprising strength making it almost break. All of a sudden tears started spilling from her ocean blue depths in heavy drops, running down her face and dropping on the soil ground. Heart wrenching sobs began heave her chest and soon she was crying uncontrollably.

"I'm glad you don't have to remember," were the only words that passed her lips.

I didn't have time to Beta this so I apologize for any mistakes! Again, if you didn't entirely understand it, don't be afraid to ask!

Please review and favourite if you liked this little One-Shot :3 I appreciate it a lot!