KING'S BAY MEMORIAL HOSPITAL

"Molly," Claire says breathlessly, already rushing towards the elevator.

"Thanks for calling me," Molly says as the two women meet. "I rushed right out of the house--"

"I didn't mean to startle you. I just thought you should know what's going on."

"I'm glad you called, really. If I'd known last night I would have been here by his side." Molly adjusts her purse, which is drooping off of her shoulder. "So what happened? How is he now?"

"Did you see the paper this morning?"

"No. I got out of the shower and I'd just come downstairs when you called--"

"There was a fire," Claire says. "At the Fitch mansion." She watches alarm warp Molly's face and adds, "Brent was there with Andy. Everyone else got out all right, but Brent was caught under a chandelier that fell."

"Oh my God."

"They got him out in enough time, thank goodness. The house was completely gutted. If he'd been in there too much longer, he might've gone with it."

A gasp, so high-pitched and terrified that it is barely audible, sounds from Molly.

"But they got him out in time and rushed him here," Claire says. "He suffered some pretty bad burns on his hands, but his face isn't too bad. They had to do some minor surgery when they got him in here, but he made it through that just fine."

"And? How is he now?"

"He's ..." Claire pauses, bringing two fingers up to the bridge of her nose. "He's still unconscious. We're waiting for him to wake up."

Molly waits, trying to read Claire's face, and then blurts out: "He's going to wake up, isn't he?" When there is no immediate answer, she adds even more frantically, "Is he that bad?"

"He's not out of the woods yet," Claire says solemnly. She perks up her tone and continues, "We just have to keep praying, Molly."

Molly nods, not looking too convinced that that will be enough. "I need to go see him."

"All right." Claire takes a deep breath. "But be on-guard."

"What?"

"Sarah's here. They had to call her last night to authorize certain things -- because she is his wife."

"Of course." Claire isn't sure if she detects a hint of bitterness in the words.

"Just don't get her going," Claire says. "And can I ask you a favor?"

"Sure."

"Would you not tell her that I called you to let you know about Brent? I don't want it to look like I'm ... taking sides."

"No problem. I'll just say I saw it in the paper this morning. Where's his room?"

"Floor below this one. Get off the elevator and take a left. Number 220."

Molly presses the button to summon the elevator again and the doors open with a ding almost instantaneously. She steps inside and then looks up at Claire. "Thanks, Claire. This means a lot."

Claire just nods as the doors close between them. She waits in place, watching the numbers above the elevator so that she can see when Molly has reached the next floor. I'm sure it does mean a lot, she thinks. That's why I called you.

Meanwhile, on the floor below, the doors part and Molly steps out of the elevator. She looks around just long enough to get her bearings and takes a left as Claire instructed. Room number 220 is just a few doors down on her right.

She approaches the door slowly, not sure what she will find inside -- in terms of both Brent and Sarah. As she nears the room, bits of the scene inside begin to appear to her through the small window next to the door.

She can see Brent lying in the bed, motionless, bandages covering his hands and splotched around his face and neck. There are a few tubes going into him and she traces them back to the ominous-looking machines.

And when she looks to the foot of the bed, something even more ominous is staring back at her. Sarah is standing there, arms folded, offering her an expression of absolute outrage.

One . Two . Three . Four . Five . Six . Seven

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