Author's Note: Thank you all for the encouraging response to chapter one! I am overwhelmed with gratitude. I hope to continue on writing as quickly as I am. This story has been floating around in my head for quite some time. It's wonderful to finally get it out. We are still waiting for our beloved Sherlock to make an appearance, but Molly will be coming into the next chapter. Please, leave a review, let me know how I'm doing! I appreciate honesty.

A jolt was sent through her body. The serenity that was enveloping her began to fade and the sound of doctors voices and the beeping of the heart monitor became louder. She opened her eyes to be met with the view of a bright light above her. As she began to focus, a face appeared.

Confusion swept across Rachel's face as she listened to the doctor. Her mind rushed. The accident. Oh my god. What happened?

"Rachel, please wake up." The soothing voice was warm and friendly, inviting her back to reality. "Rachel, you are at Saint Mary's Hospital after the bus crashed. I am Dr. Turner. You have sustained relatively monor injuries considering the severity of the accident. From what I understand, the bus you were on was attempting to cross an intersection, but a large delivery truck had run the stop light. It crashed into the passenger side, causing the bus to eject most of the passengers on the front upper level. Your left arm was broken, but we have mended it and expect you to fully recover. you also have sustained a concussion and we want to retain you here for further observation." The doctor paused, her face softened as she placed a hand over Rachel's. "We were able to locate your information in your purse, I hope you don't mind."

"Where's my parents?" Rachel was sick with worry.

"We will take you to see your father shorty. Once we get you ready to sit in a wheelchair. We can't have you walking given your current condition. I'm afraid that your father has sustained numerous traumas though. Currently, the most pressing of which is his kidney." Dr. Turner shifted her weight, as if whatever she was about to say was uncomfortable or troubling. "You see, your father is in very serious condition. A shard of glass has gone through his back and has essentially shredded his kidneys. He will be needing a transplant as soon as a matching donor can be located.

"Well, what about me? Am I a suitable match?" Rachel did not understand why they had not considered her. From what she had learned in her basic college biology class, she had a good chance of being a match based on their blood types. Although she had never learned what her blood type was, there was a good chance her and her father should be the same.

"We have run a basic blood panel on both you and your father and unfortunately you are not a match. You have type ab blood and your father has type A. Unfortunately that is not compatable." Dr. Turner looked apoplectic. "We will get you set up to visit your father. Let me know if you have any further questions or need anything at all. Best wishes to you, Miss. Westmoore." And with that she turned, closed the curtain and waked out the door.

Rachel waited until she heard the door close before she allowed herself to burst into tears. The London sunset was streaming orange light into her room, reflecting off the laminate wood floors. Her body shuddered with each sob. Regret washed over her. If only she had been less sarcastic, and more appreciative.

A nurse walked in, pushing a cart with a laptop attached. On the cart were two small glass bottles and syringes. The nurse greeted her with a warm, comforting smile. She was a younger woman, not much older than she, with strawberry blond hair and green eyes. Freckles dotted her mose and cheeks. "Have some medicine here for you, miss, pain relief and muscle relaxant". A beautiful Irish accent provided Rachel with further comfort. "I am Jackie, and I'll be taking care of you tonight. Now, if I could just get you to verify your name and birthdate for me." She gently took hold of Rachel's wrist to scan the band with her information in it.

"Um, I'm Rachel Westmoore, birthday is June 23, 1988." Her mind was slow, she was unsure if it was due to the accident, or the medicine, or a combination of both.

"Alright, this should help." Jackie connected the syringe with the iv line and plunged the medication in. Within moments Rachel felt relief.

"Now let's get your socks on so we can get you down to see your dad." Jackie pulled a clear bag out of her pocket containing bright yellow socks with white grips on them. She tore into the package and lifted the sheet to put them on Rachel's feet. This was the first time that Rachel had been able to see her feet since the accident. Her legs had hundreds of little cuts on them, and multiple black and blue bruises. She gasped in horror.

"Aw, sweetie, don't you get yourself worried about those little bumps and bruises. They will heal well enough, along with everything else, and you will be right as rain." Jackie finished with the socks and helped her into the wheelchair that she had brought over from the corner.

"Thank you" Rachel was truly grateful for the help and reassurance that Jackie had provided. With that they set out the door, and down the hall to the elevator. Rachel couldn't help but realize the parallel to this morning at the hotel. She was so unwilling to even get in the lift this morning, but now it seemed that the wheels on her chair could not carry her fast enough, nor could the elevator move to a speed that was satisfactiory to her. All she wanted was her parents.

Within a few minutes she was being wheeled into a small room, and the figure of a man was visible in the bed before her. As she was wheeled closer, she put her right hand out and made contact with her father's hand.

"I'll leave you be, just let us know when you're ready to come back to bed." And with that, Jackie exited the room.

Tears steamed down her face, leaving her eyes red and bloodshot. "I'm so sorry, daddy."

She was not expecting a response, she had imagined he would be sleeping, but she felt his hand tighten around hers and his voice crackled. "You have nothing to be sorry for, sweetheart."

Her body shuddered, and she lowered her head onto the side of the bed, next to his hand. The table beside his bed had her transfixed momentarily. The last of the setting sun's light was shining in through the windows behind her dad's bed and cast such an amazing light on the African Vilots that were on the table next to a few old magazines. I wish I had my camera, what a beautiful photo that would be. Mom would love it. Mom. Where is mom? Her mind began to race, and in once swift motion, she lifted her head, and the dizzying ache returned.

"Daddy, where's mom?"

He drew in a deep, heavy breath and paused, considering his words. "Rachel, darling, your mom didn't make it."

Rachel felt as if she had been thrown out of the bus again. Her hand began to tremble from the shock of the information that was given to her. She released his hand and covered her mouth to stifle a scream.

James continued with what she needed to know. "Your mother died on impact, she felt no pain. It was instantaneous. And perhaps much better than what could have been." He paused, the reality of what he was about to tell her was overwhelming. "We didn't want you to know until we had a grip on the situation a could figure out a course of treatment. Your mother had Large granular lymphocyte lleukemia and it was very progressed by time it was caught. She had only discovered it last month at her annual checkup." He paused, watching the tears stream down his daughters face only ebbed his on more. "She didn't want you to know, didn't want to ruin your graduation. So we planned on telling you at the end of the trip. She was planning on getting treatment here, at Saint Mary's." He couldn't hold back the tears any longer. "They have her at Saint Barthalamew's under the care of a pathologist named Hooper. She's sending her back home for us. Hopefully we will be able to go see her before they send her."

She felt betrayed, wounded, aching, but most of all, she felt as though a searing hot knife had been set through her heart. "Oh daddy." Her breath was haggard. "I was so cruel to you both. And so selfish. If only I had been more in tune. All the signs were there, I just ignored them. I didn't want to think of anyone but myself." She drew in another haggard breath. "Please, forgive me."

"Rachel, your mother knew the extent of your love for her. Do not ever doubt that." He reached out and took her hand again. "We loved you before we even met you. You were always meant to be our little girl"

His words had struck her as odd. Before we even met you?

-/-/-

Large granular lymphocyte (LGL) leukemia: This is another rare form of chronic leukemia. The cancer cells are large and have features of either T lymphocytes or natural killer (NK) cells (another type of lymphocyte). Most LGL leukemias are slow-growing, but a small number are more aggressive. Drugs that suppress the immune system may be helpful, but aggressive cases are very hard to treat.