"Yes, " Brody replied, not taking his eyes off the damp road ahead of them. "Oh God." The breath rushed from his chest, painfully. He could see it! A section of highway was blocked off. There were two patrol cars with flashing lights just before the bend. He felt his stomach clench. Oh God...Darah.

"Oh God." Maria breathed, following his gaze. A section of the guard rail ahead of them was missing. It had to be over fifty feet down. Fifty feet of rocks and trees. That was where his wife went over. Oh God, she was going to puke.

"Faster!" Brody spat out. He wasn't going to get there in time.

Max pressed the accelerator, anxious to pass the scene. No one, no one could have survived that, he thought with horror. He ventured a glance at Brody and knew by the way the mans lips pressed together that he had come to the same conclusion. They reached the hospital ten minutes later. Max killed the engine, and they sat there in a fear-induced silence.

Brody couldn't move. He didn't want to. If he went inside they would tell him that she was gone. He himself had lost her a year ago. But she was still in his life. In passing, in birthday parties, in panic-filled phone calls and sterile waiting rooms. She was there. How could she leave him now? How could she do this to him? To Sydney?

"Brody?" Max urged, opening his door. Brody felt his feet hit the pavement, but little else. It took them only a few minutes to find the trauma unit. Four police men and ambulance attendants surrounded a somber-looking doctor. He ran to them. They separated, then surrounded him.

"Where's my wife!?" He demanded. No one volunteered an answer. Max watched as they exchanged concerned glances among themselves.

"Where's Adarah? Where's my *wife*, Dammit!" He felt the last few shreds of control fall away. He felt Maria's arm loop around his shoulder, and Max's hand on his back, but it didn't register.

"Mr. Davis. Why don't we sit?"

"No!" No sitting. He knew what sitting meant. "Just tell me!" He bit out.

Max squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. Brody knew what was happening. Max could tell by the pleading in his voice.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Davis." The doctor said.

"Sorry?" He wanted to scream, but nothing came out, except a choked sob. Then he was being led to a bench. Maria was holding him, soothing words floating from her cherry-colored mouth.

"Where is my daughter?" Brody demanded.

"There was only one other passenger. A white male. His identity hasn't been confirmed yet." The cop paused. "Do you know who it may have been?"

"No." Brody shook his head. No. Adarah with another man? Adarah died with another man? He felt sick to his stomach. "Her family." He babbled. "I need to call her sister..."

"We need her to be identified first, Mr. Davis. I'm sorry." The officer patted his arm. "Take your time."

Identify her? Brody dropped his face into his hands, waiting for everything to become clear. They didn't. "Brody. I'm so sorry." Maria's heart was breaking for him. He looked so devastated. For a man who had never even mentioned he was married, he was sure taking his wife's death hard. DeLuca! She scolded herself. It was no time to be jealous. Think of Sydney. Think of the child who just lost her mother. They sat in silence for an eternity it seemed.

"The sooner we have her body identified, the sooner we can locate her family, and your daughter, Mr. Davis," the officer urged.

Max felt like punching him right in the wrinkled face. How insensitive.

Brody didn't seem to notice. He merely stood, on shaking legs, and followed the man into the ICU ward.

The blinds in the room were up. Max grasped Maria's hand and they silently watched Brody approach the bed.

No, No, No, No, No! How many times did he have to think it to make this nightmare stop.

"Sir?"

Under that bloody sheet was his wife. The women he had fallen in love with; mind, body and soul.

"Sir."

He remembered seeing her for the first time. She was sitting in the University Library, on a tour with her high school class. He has been instantly drawn to her, to her incredible beauty, drawn to the way she took in all she saw with a rare passion, drawn to the way she seemed to "belong" there. It was instantaneous. He had to know her. She had to be his.

"Sir?" The doctor urged.

God, he could see her perfectly. Her long dark hair caressing the waist band of the low cut jeans she wore as she meet his gaze across the room. She had smiled at him,openly and unguardedly that day. He had been caught off guard by it, and all he could do was stare.

"Sir!"

And when they had made love months later, she had given him that same smile, and he had given her his very soul.

"Its time, " the doctor soothed.

It's not time. Brody thought. There is no time for this.

The cop nodded to the doctor, and he remorsefully pulled back the white sheet.

Brody froze. Froze for exactly one second. Then his body propelled him backwards, into the counter. Bottles fell around him, but he didn't notice.

"No." Was all he could say. "No."

"No?" The doctor repeated.

Max stepped closer to the glass. Brody had all but leapt against the window. He remained there, shaking his head.

"No." Brody repeated angrily. "That's *not* my wife." He retched, bolting from the room and stumbling into Maria's arms.

"What do you mean its not your wife?" The cop followed him, clearly not believing his claim.

"Not her?" Max was stunned.

"That's not my wife!" Brody shouted angrily.

"Maybe you just need a minute..."

"My wife is 5 foot 3. She's Greek, and has long dark curly hair . She's not blonde. That's not her."

"Are you sure?" The doctor asked sympathicly