Dear readers,

Thank you so much for your encouragement and support throughout my first story, A Doctor's Wife:

s/12172184/1/The-Doctor-s-Wife.

Here is the sequel, Searching For Anne. For those who haven't read A Doctor's Wife yet, I should warn you that this AU is quite a stretch, and takes a deep turn far away from LMM books and all the film versions, and is purely hypothetical. If that upsets or offends you, this fiction will likely not be to your taste. Otherwise, sit back and enjoy! As always, I will make it a point to answer to all your messages and reviews in timely fashion. Thank you for reading!

The train chugged along the tracks, jostling its passengers in the cars. The rail hadn't been repaired in quite a while, and personal effects as well as small children who couldn't quite sit properly had to be held carefully.

One passenger remained totally undisturbed by the turbulence. A tall man, not so old, whose well-pressed fancy travel attire did not match his exhausted face. His skin had an odd tinge of gray to it, unfocused eyes gazed absently ahead without seeing, and he'd missed a spot down by his neck while shaving. To the other passengers, he seemed to be empty, a shell of a man.

"Next stop, Kingsport! Kingsport, ladies and gentleman!" announced the conductor as he walked through the aisle, jolting the empty man from his outer state of inertia. He stood up, got off the train and turned left, something he'd done in this very place countless times. This time, though, he'd checked no luggage, and so he proceeded to the exit of the station and hired a ride. The familiar streets unfolded before him, but his eyes remained as vacant as they had been on the train.

The ride was short and uneventful. He hadn't even realized they'd arrived until the driver turned to tell him the fare. Shelling out a few coins, he paid up and got out. Entered the building. Walked down the hallway he hadn't seen in years, but still knew by heart. Stopped in front of the split staircase.

He'd mostly gone up the stairs, the ones leading to surgery, recovery rooms, doctors' offices, places he'd usually spend most of his time. He hadn't spent much time downstairs at all, but he knew what was there. Supplies, the laboratory, and...

His stomach lurched. He felt nauseous, but there was nothing left in him to come up. He closed his eyes, took a shaky breath, tried to gain some composure. He had to do this.

He took the stairs one by one, going down until he reached the ground floor. Every step brought him closer to his worst nightmare. Too soon, he found himself in front of the room he dreaded. The door was open, and an older man in a white coat rushed to meet him.

"Gilbert. You made it." They shook hands: the older man held on to the cold, clammy grip instead of letting go.

"Dr. Zimmers, I got Scott's call and came as soon as I could."

"I'm so sorry, son. This part of the job is never easy, but it's always worse when it involves a friend." He sighed. "Would you like a moment? Should I send for some coffee?"

The younger man shook his head. The doctor nodded understandingly. "Right. Well, if you're ready, let's go this way." They went to the table; the older man looked up. "Alright?"

No, he wasn't alright. Nothing was alright. But he nodded anyway. The doctor lifted the sheet.

The woman was in her thirties, probably. Slender. Red hair. High brow. Dainty nose. Arched eyebrows.

The younger man breathed in, exhaled, and breathed in again.

"It's not Anne."

"I'm sorry?" the doctor asked, taken aback.

"It almost looks like her, but it's not. The eyebrows, the nose - they're not Anne's. It isn't her."