Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god. The words reverberated in my head as Logan and I raced down the road towards the hospital. I had offered to drive, but Logan insisted. I guess he could tell I was seriously on edge after hearing the news. But I had a right to be on edge, didn't I?

I had absolutely no idea what room Dean was in, so we were forced to ask the receptionist. As she typed in the named "Dean Forester" into the computer, the woman gave us the room number. "Room number 417," she said. I just about ran to the elevator after the words came out of her mouth.

When we finally reached the room number, Logan knocked on the door. Several voices could be heard inside, mumbling about who might be at the door. Then someone shouted, "Come in!" So slowly but surely, I opened the door and went inside the room. Logan followed close behind me.

You could tell the moment you walked through the door that the accident was serious. As far as I could tell, Dean wasn't even conscious. He lay in the hospital bed, unmoving, barely breathing. There were several cuts on his face, one still bleeding, and some on his arms. Two policemen stood in the corner of the room talking quietly to a doctor. The doctor nodded and said something to the policemen.

Lindsey was the first one to take any notice of Logan and me. She stood up from the chair by the hospital bed, a tissue in her hand. "Oh, my God, Rory. It's awful!" she said, sobbing. "I was just sitting at my desk when I got the phone call. I came down here as soon as I could, but nobody will tell me anything! All they said was that Dean had been in a accident and was in serious but stable condition."

"I don't understand, how did this happen?" I asked.

"Like I said, the police won't tell me anything. All I know is that the was a car accident and Dean was in it!" She said, her sobs growing heavier. "The doctors won't talk to me, the nurses won't talk to me. They won't even tell me about Dean's surgery."

"Umm…has Dean been in this room the whole time?" I asked

Lindsay shook her head. "N-n-no," she stuttered. "They had him in ER just before I showed up. They moved him here maybe half an hour ago."

The policemen had finished their conversation, and were now walking towards Lindsay, Logan, and me. "Um, excuse me? Are you Lindsay Lister?" Lindsay nodded. "We checked Mr. Foresters phone and you were on of the people listed that we should contacts if anything were to happen to him?"

"Yes, I'm his girlfriend."

"I see, and you are…" the policeman said, looking at Logan and I.

I cleared my throat. "I'm Rory Gilmore. I'm kind of an old friend of Dean's, and this," I gestured to Logan, "is my husband, Logan."

"Hi," Logan mumbled, extending his right hand. The policeman shook it before looking back at Lindsay and I.

"Well Hello. I sorry to tell you this but you friend Dean isn't doing to well. I should wait until the doctor comes in before you here the rest. You should really hear it from him." the policeman said. As he finished talking the doctor came in.

"Hello. My name is Dr. Hutchinson. You must be Miss. Lister and Mrs. Gilmore."

Lindsey started to speak,"Yes that is us. Can you please tell us what is wrong with Dean?"

"Yes. But I am going to warn you. You should brace yourselves. I am so terribly sorry to say this, but you friend Dean, is officially brain dead. It is you call, but I am afraid we are going to have to pull the plug. You have all the time you need to call friends and family to say goodbye. I am sorry."

Lindsey immediately started crying. I just couldn't believe it. All I could say was..."Oh My God. This was all my fault."