Welcome – I wanted to make a couple of short stories about Ellen's youth, growing up under the tutelage of Wylie and Paige. I don't think there were a great many women in her life that made a difference, but I think there could have been certain ones that stood out. I hope you enjoy, and let me know what you think!

A/N: I own nothing but the characters created for this story.


Derry, Northern Ireland

"Where's Dr. Crilly?" The man's voice was sharp, surprised. Brannon decided to ignore the brusque tone and smiled at him as she shut the door of the observation room behind her.

"Hello," she said energetically. "Dr. Crilly had to go home with a bit of a family emergency, but I'm happy to help with the rest of his appointments for the day. My name's Dr. Monica Brannon. How do you do?" Brannon smiled again at the man, who stood with his arms folded, looking furious. No reaction. Brannon turned her smile instead to the little girl who sat, very still, on the observation table.

"My daughter has always been to see Dr. Crilly," the man said. He looked anxious, stressed – Brannon noted the tightness in his voice carried over into the lines of his hard, narrow face. Brannon smiled again, in what she hoped was a calming, professional manner, and took her seat at the desk in the corner of the room.

"I understand sir, I'm terribly sorry. I can finish up your appointment today, and then I'd be happy to pass along any questions or concerns you have and chat them over with Dr. Crilly," Brannon said easily, glancing at the file folder she had brought with her. "It's Simon Sloane, right?" she asked the man, and a muscle in his jaw clenched in response. Brannon turned to the small, dark-haired girl, who was watching the exchange with wary gray eyes. Her eyes were wide as she looked perceptively at her father – she seemed to feed off of his anxiety. "And you must be Ellen. Hello darling."

The girl looked at Brannon and then quickly down at the ground. Brannon felt herself sigh inwardly. Lord, she had been around some worrisome parents in the past, but it always irked her to see the worry carry over to their children.

"Won't you take a seat, Mr. Sloane?" Brannon gestured to the chair next to the observation table. Simon Sloane didn't move.

"A family emergency…" he said skeptically. "I'd really feel more comfortable if we were to see Dr. Crilly like we always do. Ellen really needs his undivided attention."

Good Lord, Brannon thought. Instead, she said, "Well, you've got my undivided attention, Mr. Sloan! How's that?"

Sloan didn't answer immediately, but stared back at her, as if sizing her up.

"How long have you been with this practice?" he snapped.

"Almost a full year now," Brannon replied patiently. She returned his cool gaze. "I don't believe we would have met. Our records indicate that Ellen hasn't been in for a checkup for two years or so."

"My job requires us to move around frequently," Sloan replied. There was another beat of silence. "What are your credentials?"

Brannon wasn't sure if this was a joke or if he was simply an overprotective father. She decided to give him the benefit of thinking the latter.

"I graduated University College Cork five years ago, and worked residency at Our Lady's in Crumlin," Brannon said. "Took a year or two off, and then Dr. Crilly brought me in to his practice, and here I am."

"Took a year or two off?" Sloan sniffed. "What does that mean?"

"I had a baby," Brannon said shortly. They were both silent for a moment. Sloan's hard gaze had turned dismissive. Brannon pursed her lips and decided it was time to move on before she truly gave the man a piece of her mind and told him exactly how difficult medical school had been.

"Mr. Sloan, I'm not sure what it is about me that isn't working for you or your daughter, but how's about we finish up Ellen's check up and get you scheduled to speak with Dr. Crilly on a day that works for the two of you?" Sloan didn't answer. Brannon took the chance to charge ahead.

"So! I've looked over Ellen's file, and she's doing well, extremely well," Brannon trilled, smiling again, more for the girl's benefit than anything. Ellen had looked up and appeared to be listening attentively again. Brannon glanced back at the file as she read. "Healthy weight, healthy height, and her blood pressure, hearing, heart and eyes are perfect… The nurse did write a note that Ellen's due for a booster, another MMR, so we can take care of that today…" Brannon raised an eyebrow at Sloan and lowered her voice, just slightly, but continued speaking in the same casual tone, so as not to alert the girl. Brannon took another quick look before she closed the file – Simon's wife was listed, having died some years previously. There were no notes from the nurses, or from Dr. Crilly in previous years, about the child's personality or mental health, or about her relationship with her father.

"She's perfectly healthy," Brannon summarized, spinning in her chair to look at Sloan again. "How's she doing socially? Does she talk much?"

"She can talk, if that's what you're asking," Sloane said. "And she does well in school."

Brannon turned to the girl and smiled. Ellen's wide, gray eyes were turned on Brannon now. Brannon couldn't be sure, but the eyes seemed to purvey a remarkable depth – as if the girl was listening to the adults speak and could understand every word. "Can you tell me your first and last name, my dear?"

The girl glanced at her father. He gave the most imperceptible of nods, but Brannon caught it. The little girl looked back at Brannon.

"Ellen Sloan."

"And where do you go to school, Ellen?"

"Hollybush Primary."

"Do you like school, Ellen?" Brannon asked.

"Yes, ma'am," the girl said. Her voice was throaty and deep for such a little one. Brannon smiled again.

"That's good," she said. "What's your favorite thing about school?"

The girl paused. Her forehead started to crease in confusion, as if she had never been asked the question before, and was wondering why she was being asked it now – but then she seemed to think better of it, and Brannon could swear the child arranged a thoughtful expression on her face. She was quiet for a moment more.

"I like my classmates. And my teacher," she said. "And I like PE," she added politely, and smiled at her father. "I'm the best in my whole class in PE. I'm even better than the boys." The girl smirked a little, and Brannon smiled back at her. Something about the girl's accent was strange though – it was local, and yet… not. Brannon couldn't put a finger on it, but put it out of mind.

"You've got a very smart young lady on your hands, it looks like," Brannon said, turning to Sloane. "She speaks very well for her age."

"She does," he acknowledged, just as the door opened and the nurse entered with Ellen's vaccination dose on a tray. Brannon kept talking as the nurse placed the tray on the desk and began to fill the syringe – in her experience, preoccupied pediatric patients were the best recipients for shots, and she didn't want Ellen any more tense than her father had already made her.

"So Ellen, who's your best friend at school, would you say?" Brannon continued.

Ellen scrunched up her face in thought. "Probably Harry," she said. "Or Tommy. Tommy's better at football then Harry, so we like to play together, but Harry is nice too."

"You like playing with the boys?" Brannon pressed.

"Yes."

"What about girls? Do you like playing with any of the girls?"

Ellen hesitated, then grinned sheepishly. "Not really," she said, successfully holding back a giggle.

Brannon laughed. "Well, Dad, I think you've got a girl who likes the gents on your hands," she said, looking over at Sloan. He glanced at his watch in response.

"This'll pinch just a bit, love," the nurse said casually to Ellen as she approached with the needle. This was what Brannon loved about Crilly's practice – for so many young ones, a needle in the doctor's office was a horror. All of the nurses and staff at the practice worked in tandem with the doctors to create the best situation for the children – distract a child first, make them happy and silly and relaxed, then tell them quickly and casually what was about to happen. Usually there were still tears afterward, but Brannon felt it was better than trying to coax a child out of hiding to get a shot, which she had had to do on more than one occasion when she worked at the hospital.

Ellen turned her gray eyes on the nurse as she took the girl's arm in her hand. The nurse was quick and accurate – the needle was in and out of Ellen's arm in moments – but Brannon stared in wonder. The little girl didn't even flinch. Ellen looked interestedly at the nurse and what she was doing, and then turned her attention back to Brannon, anticipating more questions. Brannon stared back at her, and tried to comprehend what was going on behind the gray eyes. They were indifferent to the shot. No tears appeared to be coming. Brannon was too startled to speak for a moment. It was Sloan, of course, who brought her out of the gray eyes and back to reality.

"Is there anything else you… recommend?" he asked, his words dripping with disdain. "Anything else we need to go over?"

"Uh, no," Brannon said, gathering Ellen's file and standing up. "No, Ellen's perfectly healthy. And she's done very well today." She smiled at the little one again, who was now focused on the bright green bandage that the nurse had applied to cover the needle mark. "If there's nothing else you need from me, just be sure to stop at the nurse's station on the way out."

"And Dr. Crilly?" Sloan asked.

"Oh yes, Dr. Crilly – anything you'd like me to ask him? Or go over with him?" Brannon asked, opening the door for everyone.

"No, I'll do that myself," Sloan said. "Come on, Ellen." The girl promptly hopped off the observation table and followed her father out of the room and down the hall.

"Goodbye, Ellen!" Brannon called after her, watching the father and daughter go. The girl turned and gave a tiny, shy smile and little wave. Then they were around the corner and out of sight.

"Odd family, yeah?" Brannon said softly to the nurse.

"Oh yeah," the nurse snorted in response. "The little one's always been sweet as a button, quiet, but sweet. But her father? Snot. Treats all the women in the practice like they're not capable of anythin', every time he's been here. What a prick – 'scuse my French."

Brannon chuckled and shook her head. But she made a note to herself to talk with Crilly when he returned – whenever that was – and find out more about the smart, tough little girl with gray eyes, and her father. She wanted to keep an eye out for the girl, to make sure she would be alright.


But she never did. And Brannon never saw Ellen again.


There will be more! (Hence the title.) Stay tuned!