Disclaimer: ER and all recognisable characters belong to NBC et al, and I use them solely for recreation, and do not make a profit from them. Lucy Barnett, along with several of the other characters in this are my creation however.

Author's Note: I have been planning pretty much all along to write this sequel (yes, me, writing a sequel, a surprise I know) but I didn't think I'd tell you until I actually got on and started it. As I was writing Against the Odds, I kinda got a feel for Lucy's character even though she was still a baby (I definitely want a baby like her one day – she smiles a lot, she cries very little, and she loves rock music – what more could you want in a child?!) and I'm really looking forward to getting the chance to develop it here. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I have a feeling I'm going to enjoy writing it.

Spoilers: This is completely unrelated to the show, so none. It ties in with Back to the Beginning and Against the Odds, that's all.

London Calling

Lucy Barnett was sitting on her bed, her new bed in her new room in her new flat, watching great fat drops of rain run down the window, thinking that all the clichés she had ever heard about British weather were absolutely true. No wonder they always talked about the weather – something this grim had to make a worthy conversation topic. Her parents, who had flown over to England with her to get her settled in had just left, and despite her keen sense of anticipation at what was to come, she was feeling a tiny bit lonely.

There had been a few tears when her parents had finished lugging boxes up from the car, borrowed from her uncle, and the time had come for them to part. She'd been trying to be cool about it, but when it hit her that after today, she wasn't going to see her beloved parents again until she returned home to Chicago for the Christmas holidays, a whole two and a half months away, she felt her bottom lip begin to wobble. Hoping to hide it, she buried herself in her dad's arms. 'I'm going to miss you kiddo,' he said, and the emotion she heard in his voice made the tears she was trying to keep at bay prick at her eyes with ever greater determination.

'I'm going to miss you too Dad. Who else am I going to tell when they play a note wrong?' she teased, trying to sound less upset than she felt.

'Hey, cheeky. I never play a note wrong. Don't forget who taught you to be such a guitar legend.' He pretended to sound affronted.

Then, of course, at that, a whole host of childhood memories came flooding back, the years her dad had devoted to teaching her to play her favourite instrument, the sitting on her mum's knee when she was far too young to be up that late, let alone in a smoky club, watching, enraptured, her dad play a gig. That was enough to send her over the edge. A sob hitched in her throat.

Ray held his daughter away from him a little, using one hand to wipe away her tears. 'No tears okay? This is fun, remember, an adventure. It's going to be awesome, right?' He waited for a nod, and after a few sniffles, was rewarded with one. 'Come on kiddo, you can do better than that for your old Dad, can't you?' This time, she managed a watery smile, and he pulled her into a hug again. 'That's my girl. All good things, baby. Time for the next chapter now.'

Then once she'd just about managed to muddle through her goodbye to her father with most of her dignity, and mascara, intact, there was still her mum to go. They were roughly the same height, and when her mum pulled her into her embrace, Lucy could feel moisture on her mother's cheeks, which set her right off again.

'Goodbye baby,' Neela choked out. She couldn't believe her beloved daughter was actually old enough to be leaving home. She had been determined to let go without a scene for Lucy's sake, but she was finding it even harder than she'd thought it would be. Of course a mother loves her children; she loved all three of hers to death, but Lucy represented so much to her. If it hadn't been for her eldest daughter, she didn't like to think where she would be now. Eighteen years ago, her life had been pretty dark, and having Lucy had changed everything.

'Goodbye Mum. Until Christmas, yeah?'

'Until Christmas,' Neela echoed. 'We'll all be looking forward to it. Now, you keep in touch all right? If there's anything you need, let us know.'

'I will.'

'And if you need something urgently, you have your grandmother's number, don't you?'

'Yes Mum.'

'Don't forget it's Jas's birthday next month, make sure you send her something, won't you? She'll be missing you dreadfully.'

'I know, Mum.'

She knew she could go on forever, but Neela took a deep breath and made herself draw her lecture to a close. She didn't want her daughter's ears ringing with nagging instead of a proper goodbye. She couldn't help herself from saying one last thing though. 'Right, now promise me you'll have fun, but you make sure you work hard as well, okay?'

'I promise,' she said solemnly, not seeing her dad's secret smile at Neela's fussing.

Then with one last teary hug, they were gone, and she was alone.

She'd decided to come to London to university a couple of years ago, after one of the family visits there that had occurred at relatively regular intervals throughout her childhood. The city had just captured her imagination somehow. It was busy and bustling, just how a city should be, but there was an incredible sense of tradition there. The buildings were just so old, and she'd decided it would be kind of fun to live there. Now the grand plan was actually in operation, it all seemed a little more daunting than she had thought it would be. It was going to be a Hell of an adventure though, and that appealed to her. She knew, as soon as the nerves had worn off, that she was going to have the time of her life.

The flat she'd moved into was in one of the university's Halls of Residence, and she was the first one to arrive. While her mum had been trying to unpack things and set out her room in that way that mums, even fairly relaxed ones like her own, felt the need to do, she and her dad had poked around the place, discovering six bedrooms, all nice enough but depressingly identical, a functional kitchen (well, it would be functional if she knew how to cook; apart from her looks, culinary skills were just about the only thing she didn't inherit from her father) and a lounge, which, if it didn't look exactly homely, could probably count as comfortable.

She was curious as to the people she was going to meet. She liked to think she was easy to get on with, but she knew that a lot of flatmates may have a problem with things she thought of as perfectly normal, such as blasting out rock music at all hours of the day and night, and going on random baking sprees, with truly horrific results, which was another of her odd habits. It wasn't until her father, usually so indulgent with his daughters, had flatly refused to eat one of her cookies that she'd heard the story of her mum's disastrous baking attempts and known where she'd got it from. At least her love of soccer, sorry, football, she must remember to call it now, which had set her apart at home, should mean that she'd fit right in here.

She also wondered what courses her new flatmates might be on. She wouldn't mind if there was another medic or two, but it would be nice to meet other people, with different interests, different knowledge.

As far as her own decision to do medicine went, it had been absolutely inevitable. She'd known, of course, that her parents would be as proud as punch if she did become a doctor, although her dad might have been equally pleased with a lead guitarist in any sort of band that successfully imitated anything from the early punk rock era, but they'd never pushed her down that route, for which she had been grateful. It had given her the time and the space to decide for herself that medicine was definitely for her. The only thing they had insisted on was that she worked on the hospital's Volunteen programme. They had said that it would be good for her, give her something to do, it would look great on college applications, and, her mum added, tongue in cheek, 'giving you something else to do might just ensure that your fingers don't drop off from playing the guitar so much.' Her dad had commented that his had survived okay, and earned himself one of her mum's priceless death stares.

She hadn't been opposed to the idea of being a Volunteen anyway; she had spent a fair bit of time hanging around the hospital over the years and watched how much her parents seemed to love the place, so she was keen to work there herself. She started doing the Volunteen work when she was thirteen, and what had meant to last for a few months had ended up rolling on for several years, because she had just got such a kick out of it. That helping people gene had obviously won through.

There was another thing she had taken from perpetually hanging around the hospital for five years. She definitely wanted to go into Emergency Medicine. That was where the action was. There was always something happening, something different going on every day, plus, if she was being really honest with herself, she knew she idolised her father to the point of hero-worship, and if there was something he had done, she had to do it too.

It had always been like that, even when she was little. Once, when she couldn't have been more than four or five, she remembered one day her parents were having a barbeque or something, and they had a few friends around. Her dad's old bandmates were there, along with a few folk from the hospital, including the Kovacs, her parents' best friends. She'd been playing with Joe in the sandpit when she'd got bored, and wandered over to listen to the adults' conversation. Her dad had been regaling everyone with some childhood tale of when he had once eaten an entire can of treacle, and ended up with his frantic mother carting him off to hospital to have his stomach pumped. Sure enough by the end of the day, her mum found her sitting cross legged on the kitchen floor, three quarters of the way through the treacle can and already feeling decidedly sick. She'd provoked just the reaction she'd hoped; off she went to the hospital, her mum clearly frantic and her dad suitably worried, but ever so slightly amused, and her stomach was pumped, thus fulfilling her desire to be like her daddy. It also gave her an utter hatred of charcoal, and since then she had limited her copycat tendencies to the guitar, medicine, and an obsession with cereal.

Thinking of home had brought another tear to her eye, and as soon as she realised it was there, she took a determined swipe at it. She certainly didn't want to meet her new flatmates with puffy eyes and smudged make-up – first impressions and all that.

In order to pass the time, Lucy put on some music. The Clash, of course; whoever moved in might as well know the type of person she was right from the start. She let the familiar sounds wash over her for a while, then gave in to temptation and picked up her guitar, playing along expertly.

She was hoping she would find some people she could form a band with. She just adored music, and played whenever she could. It would be great if she found some like minded people. She thought, in an entire city of brand new people, it couldn't be too hard.

It wouldn't be entirely true to say she knew no-one in London though. Of course, there were her large and indeterminate number of cousins, all of whom she knew vaguely (even if she got their names a little muddled up sometimes) but they weren't exactly close enough for her to give them a call and go out on the town, which suited her just fine. Her mother's side of the family was a little straight laced and serious for her liking; they clearly thought that her dad, while they couldn't resist his charm and smiles, was completely responsible into corrupting their well behaved, serious Neela into the relaxed, witty woman that Lucy knew as her mother.

The only person she knew, well, sort of knew, in London that she wasn't related to was Joe Kovac. Her mum had told her that Abby and Luka's son was going to be at university with her, also doing medicine. She knew her parents were quite excited at the prospect, and imagined Abby and Luka were as well, but in all honestly, it didn't mean all that much to her. The Kovacs had moved to Croatia, Luka first, then Abby and Joe a year or so later, when both she and Joe were very young, so she couldn't say she really knew him. They had returned to Chicago many times for visits, and she and her family had been to Croatia to stay a few times as well, but she and Joe hadn't seen each other for a few years and she wasn't entirely sure that she'd recognise him now. She knew their parents would like them to be friends, as parents always did hope you would get along with their friends' children, but she couldn't say she was planning to seek him out. She would probably run into him at some point anyway.

Just then, she heard the sound of a door opening somewhere out in the flat. Turning the music down a little, and laying her guitar down, she went out into the corridor. It sounded like her first flatmate had arrived.