AN: Okay, I lied - I had to finish ONE more chapter before I called it a night. This fanfiction stuff is actually pretty fun once you get started!

The Road Home: Alive

I almost laughed at him when he told me.

For a good minute I didn't believe him. Alexandra House was dead. She'd gone missing eight years ago - we'd all gathered to finally say goodbye...he was wrong. How could he try and pull something so unfunny over my eyes? It's a good thing Allison had left to visit her parents in New York this morning - she would have totally slapped him, hearing this nonsense.

I then realized there was obviously a good reason the hospital was littered in police on the inside, media on the outside. Was he actually telling the TRUTH? I hardly noticed as my cane clattered to the ground. A simple nod from Wilson confirmed it. My daughter was upstairs in the operating room, alive, but only just.

I didn't even wait for Wilson as I turned and went as fast as I could to the elevators. My daughter...my sweet Allie - ALIVE. What the HELL had happened though, to land her in the hospital undergoing surgery? Wilson appeared beside me, as we entered the elevator. He said that he would explain it to me when we got upstairs, when I was sitting down.

I sat down, still in shock, when we arrived in the surgeon's lounge. Wilson sat down in front of me and began to explain the events of this morning. The story just got worse and worse - by the time Wilson finished I was already shaking. What kind of bastard runs a child over with a fucking sport utility vehicle? I wanted to kill the asshole. The only problem was, I had no idea who had kidnapped her in the first place. The only peace I got out of the whole story, was knowing the police at this very moment, were conducting a search of every home in the area of the accident. When they found this bastard, he was definitely going to pay.

Allie was still in surgery, so my thoughts wandered to Allison. How do you tell your wife that after eight years, your child has been recovered? No, not dead - but very nearly due to being run over by the man who stole her away? She attempted suicide a few days ago, had only just begun therapy...said goodbye to her child. What on earth was this going to do to her? What would she do if Allie didn't pull through this? Would she herself survive losing her child for the second time?

She was alive. And for the first time in eight years, so was I.

The two hours I was forced to wait for news, was complete hell.

Cuddy had gotten hold of Allison, who apparently had seemed quite shaken when she picked up the phone at her parents. She didn't even have a chance to let her know what had happened when Allison had yelled, "I'm on my way right now," and hung up on her. I hoped one of her parents was driving her back, I cringed because I'm sure she'd break every traffic law in sight to get back here in record time.

According to Wilson, I nearly mauled the surgeon when he came into the lounge two hours later to talk to us. By this point, everything had finally sunk in and I wanted nothing more than to see my daughter. He said she'd pulled through the surgeries - but had taken almost a liter of blood in the process. She'd been transferred from recovery to the intensive care unit, he'd give me her charts to look over the extent of her injuries on my way up there. I grabbed it out of his hands and partially dreaded looking inside.

The impact of the car did most of the damage. Internal bleeding had resulted in the surgeons needing to remove her spleen. The impact had also caused extensive damage to her right knee that was pretty much repaired through surgery - it would be some time before she'd be able to walk normally. Her left wrist was also broken in two places. Thankfully, there had been no apparent spinal cord damage. She'd broken six of her ribs as she hit the pavement , a displaced one causing a tension pneumothorax. They'd re-inflated her lung and put in a chest tube - her oxygen saturation levels were still very low though, she'd been put on a respirator. The most serious of her injuries was the head trauma she'd obtained upon landing on the pavement. She'd had an altered level of consciousness up until after the surgery, when they realized she wasn't coming out of the anesthesia. A CT scan unveiled swelling around her brain. She was registering around a nine on the Glasgow Coma Scale - fifteen being the score you'd want to see on someone you'd want to wake up eventually.

I think my heart just about stopped while reading her charts. She was still alive, and there was a good chance she'd pull through this, but waiting it out was going to be hell on earth. Allison and I thought we'd been through every parents nightmare with the kidnapping - we were wrong...this had to be worse.

I was a complete mess by the time Wilson and I made it up to the ICU. Chase met us outside her room, the poor guy looked like hell. It was the same look of pure shock and worry that we were all sporting - even me. I was beyond the point of trying to put up the same facade I'd perfected over the years. My little girl needed me. I had to grab hold of Wilson's arm when I entered her room, I didn't trust my own two feet anymore.

Lying in a mess of wires and tubes, was my daughter. I was at a complete loss for words. Chase and Wilson stood at the doorway, watching me as I made my way towards her bed. The only sound in the room was the gentle hiss of the respirator, as it delivered air into her still, lifeless body. She looked so much like Allison, the same complexion, the same facial features, the same auburn hair.

I sat down on a chair next to her and took her hand into mine. She looked like a china doll someone had taken a hammer to, in a fit of rage. Every inch of her body that wasn't covered in hospital gown or wires was bruised. I tried hard not to show it, but I felt wetness overcome my eyes just looking at her. Eight long years of fighting and constant wondering had all lead up to this - my daughter, back from what we assumed was the dead. Fate has a hell of a way of coming back to kick you in the ass.

I found myself praying to a God I'd never known. "Please...just let her pull through this," I kept saying, "Give me some sign she's going to make it...please..."

The squeeze from her hand was so light, so minuscule - I was positive I'd just imagined it.