Author's notes:
Hey everyone!
I am so excited to post the first chapter of my new multi-chapter fic.
I hope you enjoy and leave your thoughts!
Story title from the song Daughter by Sleeping at Last.

If only you knew
The sunlight shines a little brighter
The weight of the world's a little lighter
The stars lean in a little closer
All because of you

-Daughter by Sleeping at Last

15 years ago

Robert can't bring himself to go to the place he calls home.

He knows that when he finally enters, he will be surrounded by her. The smell of her perfume on the T-shirt she probably left crumpled up on the bed. The sight of her smiling from their wedding photo, holding his hand. The sound of her favorite George Micheal CD she left inside the reader before heading outside to start her work day.

He can't do it, he can't go back home. Because the moment he steps out of Seattle Grace, he will have to start learning how to keep living his life with Claire not in them.

And never, in a million years, Robert Sullivan had thought he would have to do it before the age of 80. When he said the words till death do us apart, he imagined a house full of grandchildren and a porch swing, and he was going to keep his oath, for better or for worse.

Right now, sitting in the waiting area of the dark hospital, he can still pretend. Pretend that he is not a widower. Pretend that there is a chance that she will come back to him. The love of his life, the mother of his daughter. Pretend that there is still a woman wearing a wedding band that matches the one he keeps spinning around his finger.

Other than the clothes and the pictures, he has another thing to remember her by. The most amazing little thing he has ever seen in his life. The baby girl who is running around the hospital's waiting room, on her chubby legs and with a big smile, completely unaware that her mother will never come and pick her up again.

When the doctors came and told him that they have done everything they could, the first thought that crossed his mind was that his daughter won't have her mother around in every step of her life, big or small. Claire won't be there to see her on her first day of kindergarten, or take a picture with her on her high school graduation. She won't be around to fight with her daughter about her first boyfriend, and she won't be there to be a shoulder to cry on when he breaks Olivia's heart. She won't be there to see Robert walking their daughter down the aisle.

From this moment on, he has to raise Olivia on his own. He will have to teach her to be a kind person, and how to share. He will have to explain to her that life isn't fair sometimes. He will have to deal with her terrible two, horrible three, and much worse sixteen.

He asked Ripley to bring his daughter over to the hospital. He is not able to look at him right now, probably won't be able to look at him for far longer, but his daughter knows and trusts his best friend, and other than his wife, Lucas is all the family he has.

Now that his wife is gone, Ripley is the only person he has.

There is a red headed nurse who seems quite fond of his little one year old trouble maker. The nurse leans down to his daughter, and they look together into a filthy mirror hung on the wall behind the nurse station, that fascinated his child for an unknown reason.

He gathers up whatever little strength he has in him, and walks toward her, clenching the small bag of Claire's personal belongings in his hand, whatever the hospital staff was able to find on her body. His daughter flashes a smile at him, with only half of her mouth full of teeth.

He looks at her, oblivious completely to the fact that her life has changed forever, took a terrible turn only because a drunk man couldn't bother to take a cab back home. She is unaware of the fact that someone robbed her from some of the most precious moments in life because he thought alcohol didn't affect him as much as it does on other people.

"Mommy." The girl says, and Robert can't help the tears rolling down his cheeks.

The nurse playing with Olivia places a reassuring hand on his back, and whispers. "I hope that's OK I occupied your daughter for a while. I just thought you could use a few minutes to yourself. I am so sorry for your loss."

She walks away back to covering her workload before he has a chance to answer, and even if he did, what would he say? Thank you? He lost the love of his life, it isn't like he won an award.

He looks at their reflection in the mirror. Him, a dirty firefighter who seems as if he has aged fifteen years in a day. And down by his ankles stands a one year old, a spitting image of a mother who is no longer alive. A mess of short curly hair and a dimpled smile, running around him on wobbly legs.

She stops in front of him, mesmerized by the reflection of herself. She reaches out her little hand and touches the dirty mirror, leaving sticky finger marks all over, as if she is trying to sense herself. She looks up to his image in the mirror, whispers "Daddy." Then she looks back at herself and giggles, saying "Livia" over and over again, not able to pronounce the first letter of her own name yet, no matter how hard Claire and Robert tried to teach her.

Robert bends down to his knees and envelopes her in a hug. His girl reaches to his face and wipes the tears off of his face with her tiny hands, intuitive as ever.

"It is just you and I from now on, baby girl. I think it is time to go." Robert picks his daughter off of the floor, and she rests her head against his shoulder.

They take a cab home, since he came in his station's aid car, and while Olivia sleeps soundlessly against him, too exhausted by the unexpected turn this day took, he thinks that it might be better that she is so young, she won't remember anything from her mother.

Because if she had to lose her mother, if it is some kind of a twisted plan God has for them, then at least she didn't know her. Because if only she knew Claire, the lengths she would go for her family, the way she could see the light in every dark situation, her selflessness and her caring for everything and everyone around her. It would have been so much harder to say goodbye. It would have been as hard on his daughter as it is devastating for him now, and not in a million years, he wishes his daughter this kind of agonizing pain.

If only she knew.

Present Day

"This was the longest shift to ever been done by any firefighter on this planet." Vic huffs out as she hangs her duffel bag on her left shoulder. She hops off the stairs two by two, and stops right next to Andy, who is leaning against the front desk for support. Andy feels as if her legs cannot carry the weight of her own body anymore. "And I wasn't the one to almost drown, nearly get infected by some filthy gutter water, or have the new captain hate my guts. You probably feel way worse than I do. "

The members of B shift came and took over the station over an hour ago, yet Vic and Andy lingered around after everyone else was already long gone. They just sat at the beanery, too tired to move or talk, every muscle in their bodies aching from the stress put on it during the day long shift. It took them over half an hour to talk each other into changing from their uniform to their own clothes.

"Preaching to the choir." Andy says as she rolls her car keys between her fingers. "Do you need a ride home?"

"It depends, are we daytime drinking?"

"What do you think?" Andy sends a dead serious face her way.

"That you look like you could use a drink. Or maybe ten." Vic guesses.

"Yep." Andy agrees. "Come on, I will have Maya pick something out for us while we are on our way."

"Tell her not to get that disgusting cheap scotch she seems to like, God knows why." Vic yells her way as her fingers move frantically across the screen of her smartphone.

Andy is invested in the text, explicitly describing to Maya what she can or cannot buy, God forbid she gets the kind of alcohol Vic refuses to drink. That will ignite a fight for sure. Her thoughts are somewhere else, trying to figure out what Maya has in her little apartment, or what she will be able to buy that will keep everyone satisfied, so she doesn't notice the walk in who enters the station until she speaks.

"Hey, do you work here?" A teenage girl asks. She looks around sixteen, maybe a fifteen year old looking a little older for her age.

"Yeah, but we were just on our way out." Andy answers. "Can we help you with anything?"

"I am looking for my dad." She dresses like every other girl in her age group, with over-sized T shirts printed with the logo of a band she probably has never heard one song by, and some kind of branded white sneakers. She has braces, and a school backpack hung over one of her shoulders. She appears more at ease than more people are when they walk into a fire station. Most people walk in when they are in some kind of a medical emergency, or at least have a loved one who is. Yet this girl looks calm, even board, Andy might say.

"Is he hurt? Did something happen to him? If he is missing, you have to file a missing person report at the police station. It is just two blocks down the streets and then you take a left. You can't miss it." Vic spits out quickly as she passes the girl and stands by the door. "If you need anything else, I am sure anyone who is still working will be able to help you. They are very easy to find, they just wear uniform." Vic points down at her own clothing, the jeans and army style jacket emphasizing she has clocked out already.

"That won't be necessary, but thank you."

"I hope you will find him." Andy tries to smile at the stranger, even if the fatigue is polling the ends of her lips downwards unwillingly. She turns her back to the girl as she bids "Have a nice day!"

"Hey dad!" The girl yells.

Andy and Vic both turn back to face her. Is she mentally unwell? Do they need to get some help?

The door to the captain's office opens, and Sullivan walks out of it, a stern look on his face, as usual. When he sees the mysterious teenager who stands in the front of the entrance his whole face lights up, and if Andy didn't think it was absolutely impossible, she would have said that he even smiles her way.

"Hey, Livia." He greets the stranger. The girl wraps her arm around his middle, and he puts a reassuring hand on her back. She is tall for a woman, probably an inch or two taller than Andy is, but she still gets only to her father's shoulders. "How was your first day at the new school?"

Both Andy and Vic watch the situation unravel before them with their eyes tear open, not able to look away.

"Fine." The girl huffs out. "You didn't tell your co-workers you have a daughter? Are you ashamed of me or something?" She untangles herself from the hug and crosses her arms on her chest, in a manner obviously meant to convey a message of annoyance.

Was she that bad when she was a teenager? Andy thinks to herself. She bets that if she asks her father, he will claim she was much, much worse.

"Oh, I am sure the problem is not you. Our Captain didn't really tell us anything personal about himself." Vic tries to reassure her, which seems to only get the girl, whose name Andy couldn't really catch, more upset.

"Sir, with all due respect, you have a daughter?" Andy can't help but ask, the curiosity taking the better part of her. She would never, in a million years, have guessed it herself. He didn't really strike her as the parental type, but now when she sees them standing side by side, the resemblance is clear. They both have the same high cheekbones, and the same brown eyes, even if she can see some passion in the eyes of his daughter, yet no fire in his. She inherited his height, and his lean body type. Andy guesses that the hair is all her mother, a head full of black, thick curls going everywhere. The daughter has a smile on as well, another feature in which she probably takes after her mother.

"Yes, you will have to excuse my daughter. Apparently she left her manners in Montana." He apologizes on her behalf, and gives his child a stern look.

"Yeah, hey. I am Olivia. Olivia Sullivan, but everyone calls me Liv. Well, everyone other than my father."

"I am Andy, and this is Vic." Andy points at her friend, who is still in such shock that her mouth hangs a little open. "I guess we should welcome you to the station, and to Seattle."

"Well, thank you, Hughes, Herrera." Sullivan dismisses them. "You can definitely go now. My daughter probably has some homework she has to catch up on, considering she switched schools in the middle of her sophomore year." He puts a hand on Liv's back as he escort her up to the conference room, where she can sit and do her school work in relative silence.

Andy puts her fingers underneath Vic's chin, and closes it. Her jaw drops open again, before she says "The uptight new captain has a moody teenager. I did not see that coming."

"I know." Andy agrees with the same amount of surprise in her voice.

Olivia Sullivan. Who knew.