Mac was sitting at his desk, working late again, as usual. A soft tap sounded on his door. I delicate looking blonde girl around eighteen was standing there. He stood, motioning her to enter.

"Can I help you?" He asked, not unkindly.

"Are you Detective Mac Taylor?" She replied, her eyes meeting his hazel.

"Yes, I am. And you are?"

She said nothing, simply handing him a folded, slightly wrinkled, off white envelope. He furrowed his brow, before taking it, and opening it. A letter fell out, along with a small golden locket in the shape of a circle with M&N printed on it in cursive script.

He stared at the locket for a few seconds before watching the girl sit in a chair quietly, looking at her hands folded in her lap. He returned his attention to the letter.

My Dearest Mac Taylor,

I know it's been a very long time since you've seen me. Since we were seventeen, eighteen years ago, I believe. I know you're probably still sour about how I left, in the middle of the night, without a word or visible reason. But I did have a reason, and it turned out to be a very good one. Look at the child standing in front of you (Mac did, then continued reading) That child, Rachael, is the reason I left.

She was born on October 31st, 1993, nine months after I left you. She's yours, Mac, ours. She's got your bravery, your brain, and your stubborness. I'm sorry that I left, but I didn't think we were ready for a family, no matter how much we were in love. We were still only kids. I'd take it all back if it were at all possible. I'd go back and raise her with you.

I also wish I could be telling you all this in person, but I can't. I'm dying, Mac. Stage four liver cancer. The doctors, even Rachael say I won't live to see the light of the next week. Rachael needs someone now, and, although you have missed all eighteen of her years, she knows you. I told you, she's smart. She figured out who her father was when she was nine, and has been keeping tabs on you since, even if I didn't know it. This is your chance, Mac. Raise her. Love her. Be good to her, and For God's sake, let her be a lab rat. How I wish to see you bond with her. Perhaps I'll be looking on from heaven.

Forever and Always,

Nicolett Desperau.

Mac grabbed the locket, and opened it, just to see how legit this letter was. There it was, a very old photo booth picture from Chicago. He stayed silent, in shock, before looking back at the girl, Rachael Desperau. He could see it; see himself. He was in the shape of her eyes, her nose and lips, even her hands were similar. He knew she was like her mother too, though. In the blonde hair and blue eyes, the dimples visible, even when she wasn't smiling. He had to be sure though.

"You're going to do a DNA test, aren't you?" She spoke quietly. Mac nodded.

"Just to be sure. If it's true, then you stay, not many questions asked. I hope you don't mind white walls for tonight, at least. I can have someone go with you tomorrow to get some paint. You definately stay tonight though. We'll check the results in the morning. "

"Do you ramble often, Detective?" Rachael wasn't uncomfortable calling him dad, but figured he might be.

"I-No, I don't." He furrowed his brow again. He held the door open for her. "So you like lab work?"

She nodded.

"Squeamish?" He held up a needle so he could take the blood.

"Not at all. I'd do it myself, but I think you'd prefer to do it."

"Are you an anthropologist, Rachael?" Mac asked, smiling slightly.

"Not yet." Was the swift reply. Mac quickly took the blood from her, then himself.

"Alright. Now we check tomorrow. I can get ready, and we'll go. Sound okay?"

"Fine by me." Rachael put her hands in her pockets, smiling up at him.

Mac hurried to get his office shut down, and got his coat.

"Okay, ready?"

"Yep," She followed Mac to the elevator, standing quietly until they sat in his car.

"Are you hungry?"

"No, I ate before I got to the lab." She pushed a short piece of blonde hair behind her ear, licking her lips. She'd need chapstick soon, with the confusion of the past month, she didn't bother going to get some more.

"Oh, good." Last thing Mac needed was for her to starve. "We're here." Mac pulled up in front of a house, in the more suburban area of New York. He opened the door up for her, and shut it when she had her bag over her shoulder. He hadn't noticed the back-pack the whole car ride.

Mac Taylor's apartment wasn't much, but it was home.

"Sorry if it's not what you're used to. Where were you living before? Chicago?"

"Vegas, actually. And it's better then a motel room." Rachael smiled.

"Vegas? I know a guy or two from Vegas."

"Langston? I know him too."

"Ho-"

"Worked in the crime lab one summer for a little extra cash. Never really talked to anybody though."

"I see. Well, here's your room." Mac opened the door to the white room. It had a black on white color scheme.

"Wow. I love it. I mostly slept on the couch in Vegas. Ma didn't have much money. She had bookies to pay off her bookies. I took care of that, though."

"Do I need to arrest you?"

"No," Rachael laughed. "I payed them."

"You're eighteen. How could you have possibly paied them?"

"I had friends." Rachael shrugged. "A good friend named Simone and her boyfriend Nick from LVPD helped a lot. Simone wrote a book and she's a Forensic Anthropologist. I helped her with her book so she gave me seventy five percent of what she made off it."

"So the book made a lot?"

"Oh yes." She raised her eyes to the ceiling, calculating. "50,000 by the end of the first month of sales."

"Amazing. I'll see you in the morning, Rachael. My room is down the hall, if you need anything." Mac watched the girl nod and settle onto the bed and look around the room. As the two Taylors settled down to sleep, they wondered what life would now be like.