Every chapter will be from a different perspective! Who do you want to hear from next? Hope you have a fun time reading!

There's been a car accident. That's all the message said—that my dad had been in a car accident and I needed to come to St. Vincent's right away. So here I am, sitting in the stark white waiting room, sitting next to an old man flipping through a five-year-old Time magazine. The only decorations on the wall are signs reminding me to wash my hands and get a flu shot. I make a mental note of the latter as I try to keep my imagination from spiraling out of control.

I'm sure he's fine. Maybe it was just a fender bender and they brought him here to be careful. Or he was in the backseat and got a little shaken up. He couldn't have been the one driving. Nobody down at the station would be crazy enough to let him do that.

"Alexis Castle?"

My head shoots up in response. A young nurse in navy blue scrubs stands holding a chart against her chest.

"Yes?" I say.

She gives a little wave, "Come with me."

I match her pace and she guides me through the maze of curtains and exam rooms, "Is he okay? How's he doing?"

"Did the charge nurse speak with you about his condition?"

I shake my head, "No, I just got the message on my phone."

We stop outside the door to a small, private room. The old blinds mask my only chance of seeing him through the small glass window.

"Your Dad's car was hit by a van that crossed the midline."

"Oh God."

"The air bags did deploy and he should be fine-But he still suffered some major contusions to the head and chest. The woman he was with-"

"What woman?"

After the wedding was called off my dad was sent to work with Det. Hanson, a tall, olive-skinned, new recruit my friends dubbed Det. Handsome. He was nice enough, I guess. But he was more controlling, more ruthless that Beckett, and, most obviously, less feminine.

"I'm sorry I thought you knew."

"Knew what?"

Now my dad only does ride-alongs with Det. Hanson. It's not a change my dad seems too fond of. He never lets my dad come close to catching a suspect—literally. Since my dad's not on the force, Hanson strictly enforces the rule that he must stay at least ten yards away from all crime scenes. My dad claims this is why he doesn't like him—I think he just doesn't like working along side someone better-looking than him.

"I shouldn't have said anything." The nurse says.

"Is she okay?

"I'm sorry. I really can't say."

"Please just tell me. Will the woman be okay?"

I have little luck deciphering her blank stare, her straight lips. She looks down at her hands, "She, well-we're still waiting on her family, hon."

She opens the door to the exam room, by far the easiest way to change the subject, and I see him. My dad, usually an endless supply of energy, is just lying there in his hospital bed. An IV drips fluid into his arm and reddened bandages cover his nose and forehead. I rush to the side of his bed and gently shake his arm.

"Dad? Dad? Are you up?"

His eyelids flutter and I continue to shake his arm.

"Come on, Dad. It's me."

His eyes open wider and I can feel his hand grip mine.

"It's Alexis."

"Alexis?" A scratchy voice answer back.

"Yeah, I'm here Dad."

He moves slightly under the covers and turns toward me, "Who's Alexis?"

I can feel my jaw fall, "Alexis. Your daughter, Alexis."

"Who?" he says.

I turn to the nurse, "Did he have a concussion?"

She shakes her head and I look back at my dad. His eyes pop open and crooked smile grows across his face.

"I had you there for a minute." He says. "I was actually going for hearing loss-I can't believe you went straight for memory loss-that's way too overdone in books these days."

I pull my hand from his and use it to whack him across the shoulder.

"Ow!" he says.

"That wasn't funny!"

"Not so hard. I'm an injured man."

"What? Are these fake too?" I say, reaching for his bandages.

He pulls away from me, "No, those," he readjusts the bandage on his nose, "those are for real. Lost a fight with the dashboard. Never owe a dashboard money." He gives a reassuring smile.

I give a little smile back, "I'll keep that in mind. Are you feeling okay? Those look like they hurt?"

He shrugs, "They'll heal. Never liked my nose much, anyway."

I look down at my shoes then force myself to meet my Dad's bruised eyes "What happened, Dad?"

"It was nothing. Just a little bump on my way back from lunch."

"And Det. Hanson?"

"Even with these bruises I'm still better-looking. You know that."

"No—I mean-is he okay? Was he in the car?"

He shakes his head, "No, he wasn't with me."

"So you were alone in the car?"

"That I was." He smiles again, this one a little too big.

"You're sure?"

"Absolutely."

I glance back at the nurse and she avoids my eyes. She walks toward me and puts her hands on my shoulders.

"How about we give your dad a little rest? I'll bring you back again soon."

"Dad, are you sure you weren't with Beck.."

The door swings open and Gram runs in clearly against the will of the poor orderly reaching for her arm.

"Sir, I played a doctor for eight shows a week in "The Rebellion." Believe me, whatever it is I can handle it."

Gram takes one look at my dad and falls down beside his bed, "Oh God, Kiddo, you look awful."

"Thanks, Mother," he says.

"Now, I know, you're going to be strong for us, aren't you?"

"I am, Mother."

"You're going to get better quickly so you can be back at home with us where you belong."

"I will."

"But just in case, I have to ask, who get's your wine collection?"

"Gram!" I say.

She gestures toward me, "Alexis can't enjoy it for another couple years. I just want to make sure it ends up in good hands."

"Come on, Gram." I say.

"Oh alright! It can wait. I'm sure you have your affairs in order."

I turn to the nurse, "Is there a restroom nearby I can use?"

The nurse points to her right, "Down the hall. Code is 0210."

"Thanks."

I ignore the instructions as well as the code, and make my way through the halls of the hospital. I search for a familiar face in every room and on every gurney but have little luck.

I pull out my phone and search for a number I haven't used in months. As I continue through the halls, I listen to the continuous ring on the other end. Finally her voicemail picks up, "You've reached Kate. I'm not here right now…" I hang up and re-dial, still peeking thought every window I can find.

"Come on. Pick up." I say.

Suddenly, the ringing returns. Only this time it's coming from the inside of the exam room just to my right.

She's here.