I glared at the phone in my room as if it were offending me in some way. And, in a superficial kind of way, it was. After all, I was thousands of miles away on another continent, and it had been three whole days since my boyfriend had called me. I had called his apartment and left a message saying to call me back. Usually Shawn can't go more than 12 hours without calling me, and the few times I've called him and he hadn't been there to take the call he'd called back within an hour - rushing a cute apology when I'd already forgiven him. But now it had been three days and I was starting to get angry.

I needed to hear his voice. I missed him. How dare he deny me that pleasure I only got from my once a day calls to him. I loved it here in Europe but everything I saw made me think of him, and I yearned to feel him in my arms, his touch, his kiss. I smiled absent-mindedly, then frowned and sighed as reality set in and I realized it would be months until I had that pleasure again; and in the meantime he wouldn't even let me have the gift of his voice?! The nerve!

Just then the phone rang. I'd been wanting it to so bad that I jumped, not actually expecting my hope to come through. But then I picked it up on first ring scrambling, a grin already on my face in anticipation of his glorious voice.

Shawn. A happy sigh. "Hello?"

"Angela?"

...That wasn't Shawn... The grin fell off my face like a plate being dropped to the floor. If I weren't holding the phone I would have crossed my arms in annoyance.

"Topanga, is that you? Hey girl, what's going on?" I feigned a cheerfulness to talk to my best friend - it wasn't her fault she didn't have the voice I wanted to hear, and I didn't want to hurt her feelings.

"Angela, I have some really bad news." My heart plummeted in my chest, she sounded strained. Annoyance was forgotten, now I felt a quiet nagging fear.

"…What's going on?" I asked tentatively.

"It's Shawn; he was in an accident two days ago… he…he's in a coma."

The quiet fear erupted in my chest, and I pulled a hand up to my mouth in horror. I wanted to say something, anything, but reality was crashing down around me as denial began setting in.

"Angela?" Topanga asked concernedly after a few seconds. "Angela, are you still there?" I pulled the phone away from my face and stared at it, listening to Topanga's voice so far away, literally. Then I hung up the phone with renewed fury at the object, and sat on my floor, hugging my chest and hyperventilating for a few minutes more. A few hysterical calls later to my Daddy and to an airline company I was sitting on a plane, headed straight for New York.

I was in a weird state of multiple emotions. One of pure fear, and yet simultaneously - complete denial. It had been so long since I'd seen him, touched him. He was still only far away, he wasn't injured, just in America, too far for my reach. My hands shook and my eyes stared. A few people, mostly stewardesses, tried to make conversation, but I didn't hear a word they said and they walked away awkwardly faling to get any response. But I never cried, not a single tear, because my Shawn was fine. The man I loved, he was fine - just in America, and once I got there I would get off the plane and confide my fear in him. He would bark that lovable laugh of his and hug me close and murmur that I was silly, but how glad he is to have me back anyway. Then he would hold me in his arms while I cried in relief, and laughed at the same time, and we would kiss and all would be well.

He was waiting for me in the airport, I knew. But then, why were my hands shaking so bad? And why wasn't I sure?

I don't know how I made it to the hospital. I was still in shock that Shawn wasn't waiting for me at the gate, so I went out of it, and was surprised he wasn't waiting on the street, so I hailed a taxi. And surprised that he wasn't there when I got out of the taxi, and found myself outside a hospital that Daddy had given me the name of after he'd called Topanga back. So I went in.

I remember hugging Cory and Topanga, who both looked haggard and scared, but composed. They'd been there for days. Going home to shower and eat every so often. Then Eric hugged me too, and honestly I'd forgotten he was here in the city. They all whispered condolences I didn't understand. All said they were happy I was back but were sorry for the circumstances. But I was still confused, and angry. Because where was Shawn? He should've seen me by now, and what they said couldn't be true. He was my Shawn, my love, he had to be here safe and sound and waiting for my return. So where was he? I guess I said that last part aloud, because Topanga grabbed hold of my hand and said softly, " Room 715".

Then I looked about and realized we were in a hall and a closed door was behind me. It felt like a dream, where something appears out of nowhere only after someone makes a mention of it and voila, there it is. The door read the number "715" And so I went in, pushing through hastily so that I could prove that none of this was real. Shawn wouldn't be in here, and I could turn around and say, "Alright, he's not here, where is he?" And then I could really find him and yell at him for being late. So I entered.

And there he was. My man, my love - he was broken. He'd always been broken, but now the outside matched the turmoil he carried within. And it was awful, heart wrenching. Fear, hysteria. Suddenly with a huge tear in my chest I realized that I was awake, and I screamed Shawn's name, shrieking. And only then did I finally begin to sob. And here was the man I loved, who I had wanted to only see in person for the last several months. Whose voice had just been barely sufficient in sustaining my yearn for him, which ironically enough, was all I wanted from him now - his soft murmuring voice - to say he loved me and everything was going to be okay. And I'd cried because he was so far away and he couldn't hold me.

And here he was, right in front of me, and he still couldn't hold me while I cried. Oh, Shawn.

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A/n: This chapter is one of the reasons why I wrote this story. I love Angela and really wanted to see how she would react in this type of situation; and I think it would be something like this. Please review - by all means I'm not opposed to critiquing! And thanks for the reviews I've gotten already, they mean a lot. :) There's another one of Shawn's poems in the next chap, just a head's up. Thanks for reading! :) -FA 3