A/N: Thanks for the reviews everyone (although I'd like to get more…this story isn't getting reviewed as much as my last one…is it that bad?) One note for "nachonaco" – my chapters are so short because my goal with this story is to get my message across in as few words as I can. I'm not going to add a whole bunch of extra information to cloud up my story when it isn't necessary. But that's my style, and you're entitled to your opinion. Thanks for giving it.

Chapter Four:

            Cory walked through the automatic doors leading to the lobby, and headed to the receptionist's desk, trying to ignore the cop and doctor he could see from the corner of his eye. He turned his back on them and kept walking towards the desk.

            Suddenly, Cory jumped at the unexpected touch of a hand on his shoulder.

            "Mr. Mathews?" said the voice.

            Cory turned around and saw a doctor in a long white lab coat with a name tag reading Dr. Lucas.

            "Yes, that's me…"

            "Come with me, please."

            Cory followed with the blind trust of a child. Surely they were leading him to someone else's wife, someone else's mother, someone else's daughter. Not Topanga. It couldn't be. Suddenly, they went around a corner where there was a smaller lobby area.

            "ICU waiting room," the doctor explained.

            They kept walking, through another set of doors and down a long corridor. Cory winced at the smell of hospital, of sickness, of death. Finally they reached a door. Room 506. Oh God no. It can't be. NO NO NO NO. The doctor reached out his hand to the doorknob and pulled open the thick wooden door. Immediately, Cory knew the frail battered figure in the bed was Topanga. He ran to the bedside, grabbed the motionless hand, and wept.

            "Mr. Mathews," the doctor began in a voice which could only bring bad news, "we did some tests on her brain activity before you arrived. Cory, there were no brain signals. You're wife is brain dead."

            Cory began to shake and weep even more violently. "No, it can't be," he said through his tears. "She's just in a coma. She'll wake up, maybe any minute now. See? Look. She's breathing!"

            "No, I'm sorry, its only our machines breathing for her. Cory, you're wife is dead."

            Cory grabbed his wife's hand again, and sat there, weeping, as the doctor looked on with pity in his eyes.