Why did it have to be so cold in here? Lynette shivered and pulled the thin motel blankets tightly around her shoulders. Mere seconds later she was too hot and had actually begun to sweat a little. So she threw the blanket off- and was promptly freezing again. What the hell is going on? Brushing wayward strands of hair out of her face she sat up, and instantly regretted that decision as she was suddenly hit by a major headache. Oh, this is just great. I can't decide whether I'm hot or cold and I have a migraine.

Lynette decided that she liked it better here when she was sleeping, so she curled back up on the bed and tried to fall asleep again. It didn't work. She missed her family, it was too hot in here, it was too cold, she was thirsty, she was hungry, she had bouts of nausea. This was not good. Still, there really wasn't anything she could do about it, so she just tossed and turned on the bed for what seemed like hours before finally falling asleep.

"Where's mommy? I want mommyyyyyy..." The boy whined loudly, and Tom resisted the (very strong) urge to ground him on the basis of being annoying. Instead, Tom lied. "Mommy's on a little vacation right now. She'll be home in a few days." I hope. Bree had said that Lynette would return home soon, but Tom was still worried out of his mind. Because, honestly, what did Bree know? How could she be so sure about this? After all, while she was Lynette's friend, he was Lynette's husband. Therefore he knew Lynette better than Bree did. If anyone should be sure in this picture, it was him.

What Tom really wanted to do was check the account in the bank and see if Lynette had used her card for anything. If she'd used it to check into someplace, he would know where she was and could go get her. But doing that would, as Bree (Damn her!) had said, make Lynette even more mad. Muttering profanities under his breath, Tom shuffled into the kitchen to begin making lunch.

Bree was sitting on the edge of her perfectly-made bed, staring at the blank white wall. In her mind, she kept repeating what Lynette had said to her during the intervention. You're not really one to talk, what with your little drinking problem.

Did she really have a drinking problem? Okay, so maybe she'd gotten tipsy a few times when she was under stress, but what woman hadn't? It wasn't like she got drunk every night. But maybe...No! She didn't mean what she said... Wringing her hands, Bree stood and made her way downstairs. She had already popped open the bottle of wine before she realized what she was doing. Quickly, she recapped the bottle and thrust it back into the cabinet. Lord help me, she was right.

Gabi Solis paced. Back and forth, her heels clicking on the wooden floor, back and forth. She'd gotten all dressed up to go shopping and now she was stuck here, in her home. Well, not really stuck, per se; she just didn't really feel like shopping right now. What's wrong with me? I always want to go shopping! As Gabi paced, she realized that she was feeling down because she was thinking of what Lynette had said to her yesterday. Gabi had thought it over, and was positive that she had implied that Gabi was a liar.

But when have I lied? Oh, sure, there was that little affair with John, but that was a long time ago. And there was that time, just a few days ago, when she had wheedled Lynette into helping her clean her garage. But that wasn't really lying, was it? Her garage really had been messy. Still, Gabi felt bad because they had basically tricked Lynette into leaving her house so Susan could break into the Scavo house and sneak around. Those were the only two times that Gabi could remember telling really big lies. She'd lied many other times, obviously, but those were just teensy little white lies. And white lies never hurt anybody, right?

Tom had had enough. Screw what Bree said, he was going to find his wife! He used the computer to check the account, and saw that money had indeed been taken out and spent on a room at a motel. He scribbled down the name of the motel, then dragged out the yellow pages to find all the nearby hotels that went by the same name. He wrote the addresses down, then, after a quick call to Mrs. McCluskey, dashed out the door and drove off.

Honestly, he wasn't quite sure how to go about this. He'd been acting on a whim, really. He decided that he would cruise around the parking lots of the motels in question and look for her car.

There were only a couple of the motels nearby. He drove up and down the aisles of the parking lot of the first one, but didn't find the car he was looking for. She had to be at the second one, then. If she wasn't there, then she'd either checked out or had driven a lot farther than he'd thought.

But the car was there, tucked soundly, if haphazardly, between a blue van and a black truck. Tom had never felt so happy to see the car. He parked as close to it as he could, then got out and walked nervously inside, looking around for any sign of his wife. As he approached the front desk, his mind raced.

"Um...excuse me? Can you tell me what room Lynette Scavo is staying in?"

The woman behind the desk looked piercingly at him over the rims of her glasses. "I'm sorry, sir, but I cannot disclose that information to you."

"Look, this is important. I'm her husband." He pulled out his drivers license. "See?" The woman took the card an examined the picture before looking back up at Tom and handing him the license.

"That may be so, but I cannot tell you what room she's staying in."

"Oh, for Pete's sake! It's urgent! She needs to be in a hospital!" The woman's head snapped up, her eyes widening for a second before she regained her composure.

"Then I will call paramedics and have them check on her."

"Thank you!" Relief washed over him, and he ambled over to a nearby chair and flopped down in it. He watched to woman pick up her phone and dial. She glanced coldly at him a few times while she talked. Tom couldn't hear the conversation, but wasn't really bothered by it; he was just so happy. Everything was going to turn out alright. Lynette would be taken to get help; she would get cleaned up; he would get his family back; and Susan, Gabi, and Bree would have their friend back.

Someone was pounding incessantly on the door, and it was really pissing Lynette off. Part of her wanted to scream at them, but a more rational part told her to keep quiet and maybe they would think she wasn't there or just give up and leave.

The pounding on the door really wasn't helping her headache, though, and she wasn't sure how much longer she could take it before she exploded at whoever stood on the others side of the door.

But then, whoever was on the other side started to unlock the door! How did they get a key to my room? was the only thought she had time for before the door was flung open to reveal a couple of guys dressed like paramedics and a severe-looking woman clutching a ring of keys. Lynette quickly raised her hand to her face to block out the too-bright sunlight. What are they DOING? She didn't even have time to protest as the two men easily lifted her out of the bed and carried her down to the waiting ambulance.