A/N - This is a very heavy one shot. It will not be cute and fluffy. There is nothing I feel needs a trigger warning but if heavy writing and sad events are not for you, then don't read this one shot. Please vote and comment what you thought of it and any future requests.

Let me know on a scale of 1-10 how close you were to crying (1 being completely dry and 10 being drowning in tears)

- Caitlin.

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"Shoot! Shoot! Oh, garbage! That was utter garbage!"

Matthew slapped his legs, taking care not to hit the controller as he let his frustration out. He had been trying to beat this level for the past twenty minutes but he kept getting killed by what he dubbed 'the room of death'. This room was in fact just a room filled with Hammer Bros, perfectly arranged such that there was very little room to manoeuvre. If you were more than a centimetre to one side then Mario would get hit and that infuriating death animation would play, resetting you back to the beginning. Running his hands through his hair, Matthew realised that the Rage Hair was already strong and they had only been playing for an hour of what they hoped would be a two-hour live stream.

"Well, you did ask the viewers to submit their hardest levels. You're too competitive for your own good Matthew."

Stephanie's teasing tone caused him to turn from the loading screen to look at his co-host, wife and best friend. Her hair was slightly curled today, settling nicely on her shoulders and framing her smiling face. She wore a dark green blouse and a simple pair of jeans, with minimal makeup on today as they hadn't had any important meetings that they had to attend. Matthew always liked to remind her that she was gorgeous without the makeup but if wearing makeup made Stephanie feel comfortable and happy with her appearance, then he wouldn't stand in her way. Pouting at Stephanie's mockery of him, he reached forward and grabbed his diet coke can. Tipping it back to grab the last few drops of precious nectar, Matthew's pretend sulking over losing the level was replaced with actual sulking on the lack of Diet Coke.

"Jason! I'm out of Diet Coke, is there any in the fridge downstairs?"

Jason pulled the headphones down onto his neck and thought about Matthew's question for a moment before shrugging and saying:

"I don't think so. I think that was the last one, you did drink around three cans when working on that script this morning. We still have a lot of lemonade leftover from when Ronnie was here the other day so you could drink that instead."

Stephanie rolls her eyes and takes her microphone off, putting it down on the table and leaving the room – muttering about how his addiction was going to put them on the streets one day. Jason cackled in response to Steph's slightly out of character remarks. Her sass had been on point today, with the usual pro tips spiralling more into mockery and sarcasm. The chat had loved every second of it, wondering what had brought this side of Stephanie out but Matthew knew why. She hadn't been sleeping very well recently so it was mostly a combination of caffeine and exhaustion. Being the stubborn woman she was, she was refusing to go to the doctor or to take any sleeping medication that Chris had randomly stowed away in his bag. They both presumed it was stress since they had a lot going on and Stephanie's workload had jumped up as of late. Running three channels and a consulting business was an incredibly stressful thing so Matthew was always grateful that he had Stephanie by his side but the toll it was taking on her recently worried him. Maybe he'd take her away over the weekend. Scripts could wait.

Stephanie carefully walked down the stairs, dodging past Skip who had decided to take a nap on the bottom stair – a massive trip hazard. Pausing for a second, Stephanie bent down and gently scratched Skip under his chin, smiling down at him as he purred and looked up at her in content. She cooed at him for a moment before continuing on her way to the kitchen. Opening up the fridge, she was a bit annoyed to see that despite the variety of sodas and condiments they had on the shelves, there was no Diet Coke in sight. A bolt of inspiration hit Stephanie and she walked over to the cupboard where they kept their perishable foods, cheering internally as she came across the remaining Diet Coke bottles from their bottle flipping live stream a couple weeks ago. Thankfully the kitchen was always relatively cold so Matthew couldn't whine about it being warm.

"Here you go, Matthew. Have you managed to at least get to a checkpoint yet?"

Grabbing the Diet Coke and slugging some, Matthew hit the play again button and started the level over again. Stephanie sat next to him, fixing her microphone into place and giving him a neck massage as he played – which was both extremely nice to his sore neck but also rather distracting from the intricate mechanics required to beat the level. Whenever he reached a slight pause in the level and stopped to take a breather, Matthew would take a sip of his Diet Coke and then reach back and attempt to give Stephanie a high-five although this ended in more face-fives than intended. Mario weaved his way through the level again and again until Matthew knew the first few sections through muscle memory alone.

However, Matthew still failed to weave his way through the 'room of death' and it was driving him nuts. They had been going for over an hour and a half now and Stephanie had spent most of the time reading support from the chat. She was clearly a bit frustrated too as there was only so much fun and banter they could have when he was stressing out over the level. His gamer rage was contagious. She sighed, twirling the end of her hair with one hand and scrolling through Twitter with the other, occasionally calling out people whose comments caught her eye.

Meow.

Skip's fuzzy head poked around the door of the live streaming room, his pathetic meow grabbing both of the streamer's attention. He pushed his way into the room and went straight for the sofa, jumping into it and wedging himself in the middle of them. Pawing at their arms and shoulders, Skip quickly became a nuisance as Matthew continued his seemingly endless level – dying over and over again. Attempts to shoo Skip or to lift him away from the sofa didn't work as he kept returning and demanding their attention. Even Stephanie's usually satisfactory petting couldn't get him to behave and the two co-hosts sighed. Standing up, Stephanie picked up Skip and put her microphone down yet again, turning to Matthew and saying.

"Since we started around an hour and a half late, its Skip's dinner time and I doubt he's going to stop until we feed him so you finish that level and I'll come back and check Twitter in a minute for some more fan art."

Matthew nodded to let his wife know that it was a good plan and laughed when Stephanie used Skip's tiny paw to wave to the camera. Jason muttered slanderous remarks about how that cat would be the death of him but even he waved back at Skip, although he would never admit it happened since it wasn't caught on camera. After mocking Jason for a little bit and jokingly blaming him for Skip's antics, Matthew returned to the game with a determined expression that some of the chat said made him look like he really needed the bathroom. Twitter then immediately began making it into a meme, captioning the screenshots with various game theory related puns such as "That face when Scott releases another teaser image when you've just finished writing a theory." Matthew's personal favourite was "That face when you run out of Diet Coke halfway through a stream" and gave the creator a clap and a half.

Time passed quite quickly as Matthew alternated between checking the chats reaction to his constant failures. Eventually, he managed to reach a checkpoint and jumped onto the couch in victory, punching the air and doing a little victory dance. He turned to Stephanie to hug her out of joy and relief but when he moved he realised she had still not returned. A frown flitted across his face for a second but he concealed it, trying not to overreact on stream and worry the fans. Skip tended to be quite fussy with his food sometimes so maybe that was holding Stephanie up or perhaps the doorbell had rung and he hadn't heard it over the sound of the game. Reassuring himself, Matthew returned to the game and attempted to finish the level. His reactions were slower and the mistakes he was making were incredibly rudimentary.

Meow.

He had never been more relieved to see his beloved cat's fuzzy head appear in his peripheral vision. Jason glared at the doorway, concerned that Skip was going to mess with the cables again. They'd made the joke before that the technical issues on the live stream were due to Skip unlocking the streaming room and messing with the electronics in the middle of the night. The cat bounded into the room, straight past Jason who moved to keep him out of the room and jumped onto Matthew's lap. He butted his head into Matthew's chest and pawed at his sleeves, knocking the controller out of his hand. When he was pushed away by Matthew's hands, Skip merely came back and increased his erratic behaviour, pulling at Matthew's sleeves with his teeth and tugging him. He even started meowing loudly as if he was in distress.

"What is it Skip? What do you want buddy?"

The ball of anxiety that Matthew had been suppressing since Stephanie had left the room grew. His hands mildly shook and he looked from Skip to Jason with a look of fear evident on his face. He stood up from the sofa and Skip raced towards the door, frantically pacing back and forth in the doorway, looking back towards the men in the room in a desperate attempt to get them to follow him. Jason and Matthew stared at one another for a moment, completely ignoring the live stream for a moment as they tried to decipher what Skip's behaviour could mean. He had never behaved like this before so something was clearly wrong but what? A flash of fear flooded Matthew's system as he realised that Stephanie was still missing and the rest of the house was entirely silent. They couldn't hear any movement at all. That meant one of two things, Stephanie was either injured somewhere or she had left the house entirely.

"You go. I'll finish up here."

Matthew murmured to Jason, his microphone turned off so the audience couldn't hear what they were discussing. Jason took off his headphones and left the room swiftly, heading downstairs in search of Stephanie. Skip chased after him, moving faster than they had ever seen him move. If Skip was willingly moving quickly then something was definitely wrong. Matthew put his microphone back on, smiling to the camera and saying:

"We've been streaming for over two hours now so I'm going to end this stream here and we'll see you tomorrow, at 4 PM Pacific Time with a brand new game that you guys have been requesting en masse! And remember, that is just a stream, a LIVE STREAM. Thanks for tuning in."

Instead of saying goodbye in the chat, Matthew stepped across the room and turned off the tricaster, Matthew ensured the stream was turned off completely only to be interrupted by shouting:

"MATTHEW! GET TO THE KITCHEN, NOW!"

The tone of panic and concern in Jason's voice filled Matthew with a deep feeling of dread, causing him to run from the live streaming room. He bolted down the stairs, dodging past Skip who was still pacing back and forth at the bottom of the stairwell. Skidding around the corner, Matthew burst into the kitchen to find Jason on the phone and Stephanie lying prone on the floor. The conversation that Jason was having with the emergency services faded into the background, the entire world becoming grey and lifeless. All Matthew could see was his wife. Moving agonisingly slowly, Matthew crouched down next to her. Stephanie's hair was splayed around her head like an angel's halo and her skin was pale, her usual tan and warmth sapped out of her by whatever had happened. Neither Jason nor Matthew knew how long Stephanie had been lying like this, at a minimum it could be a couple of minutes but in the worst case scenario, it could be nearly an hour. How could he have not checked on her soon? What kind of husband was he?

The basic medical training that Matthew had received kicked in at that moment and he placed his fingers gently on his wife's neck in search of a pulse. Relief flooded his body as the gentle rhythm throbbed against his fingers, although it was slow and strained as if her heart was struggling to push the blood around the body. Moving on swiftly, he put his ear next to Steph's mouth and looked down her chest – searching for breathing. Her chest rose slowly, barely reaching the two breath mark that meant that he didn't need to perform CPR. As soon as he had clarified that his wife was still alive, he sat back on his ankles and grabbed Steph's hand. He linked their fingers together, staring numbly at her closed eyes as he waited for the ambulance to arrive.

Sirens wailed and the grey world that Matthew was living in was lit with flashes of red and blue. The lights cast ominous shadows across the room that stretched and faded within Matthew's peripheral vision. Everything seemed muffled and numb, just out of his reach. Someone grabbed his shoulder and pulled him away from Stephanie, forcing their fingers apart. The moment he lost contact with her, the whole world snapped back to normal. Paramedics worked over Stephanie, attaching breathing apparatus and checking her pulse whilst Matthew watched on. Jason placed his hand on Matthew's shoulder, squeezing it gently in a form of comfort. Neither of them knew what to do, so they just stayed there. In silence and stillness, they remained exactly where they were. Medics bustled in and out of the kitchen, carrying medical equipment and stretchers to Steph's prone form on the floor.

"We're going to take her straight in now, feel free to meet us at the hospital. With the amount of breathing apparatus she needs right now, I'm afraid you cannot ride in the ambulance with us. What's her name?"

The paramedic spoke quickly and firmly to Matthew and Jason, trying to get as much information across as possible in the minimal amount of time they had. Matthew tried to speak but when he opened his mouth, nothing came out. He couldn't speak. The threat hanging over his wife's life was like a black cloud on his very existence. The thought of living life without Stephanie poisoned his entire being with heaviness and emptiness. Staggering to his feet, he made his way out of the front door to the driveway where the ambulance was parked. He made it just in time to see the paramedics loading Stephanie into the vehicle.

As he stared across the driveway, his eyes focused on her hand. It hung off the edge of the stretcher, her fingers open and empty. Her skin was pale and her body was limp yet all Matthew could see was her empty hand – her wedding ring reflecting the light of the sun. The hand he had held kissed and had rubbed his back. The hand he may never get to kiss again. Tubes and breathing apparatus covered the rest of Stephanie's body, with her face covered by a breathing mask such that Matthew couldn't see her beautiful face clearly. Her eyes were still closed, their beautiful brown depths hidden from the world until she woke up again. If she woke up.

The doors of the ambulance slammed shut and the engine roared into action, the sirens wailed and the lights flashing as it speedily made its way towards the hospital. As the sirens faded out of Matthew's hearing, the severity of the situation slammed into him as if he had been hit by a truck. His legs crumpled underneath him and he collapsed onto the concrete driveway. Tears poured uncontrollably from his eyes as his chest heaved. Sorrow flooded his veins and his sobs were gutting to listen to. It was as if Stephanie's pain was his own and the agony he was experiencing was excruciating. The sorrow morphed quickly into self-loathing as Matthew's thoughts raced over the events of the day. Why hadn't he checked on her sooner? Why hadn't he cancelled the stream to make sure she had gotten more sleep? Why hadn't he listened to the warning signs from Skip straight away instead of just ignoring him?

"Why the fuck would this happen to her?"

Rubbing the tears from his eyes, Matthew's fist slammed into the concrete – relishing the spike of pain that flashed up his arm as the skin around his knuckles split open. The gashes in his hands were stained a dark crimson as his blood seeped out of his veins and down his arm, trickling like an endless bloody waterfall. Jason shouted from behind him and ran to his side, attempting to grab his arm to stop him but was too slow. Matthew ripped his arm from the loose grip and slammed it down onto the concrete again as if the physical pain would save him from the opening void inside him. He moved to slam it down again but his arms were pulled behind his back, twisting and causing another lance of pain.

"Stop this Matthew, she needs you. She is going to get through this but she cannot do that without you by her side supporting her every step of the way. How will she feel if she wakes up without you next to her bed? Or even worse, you in the bed next to her?"

Falling limp in Jason's hold, Matthew closed his eyes and bowed his head in defeat and regret. What kind of husband was he? She had supported him through thick and thin, bringing home the money when he was a starving actor that couldn't find a job. She gave up countless hours of her time to dedicate to Game Theory, eventually quitting her job to work as a consultant and co-owner of the channels. He wouldn't be able to do everything that he loved about his job without her by his side, supporting him and orchestrating the behind the scenes. Some of the most positively received theories on both channels were written with her support on the script. The GTLive community also adored her, unable to imagine a single stream without her sassy comments. What had he done for her recently? Ignored the warning signs until she was lying unconscious on their kitchen floor, potentially moments from death as they spoke. For all he knew, she could be dead right now. Her last breath may have been taken in pain, alone in a hospital room with nothing but strangers and machines.

"I need to go to her."

Moving swiftly off of the ground Matthew ran inside and grabbed his car keys from the bowl by the front door. His legs moved as if he was stuck in the sand, slogging forward and being sapped of all his energy. Opening the driver's door, he was once again blocked by Jason. Matthew tried to shove Jason out of the way but his friend stayed exactly where he was, an unmoving block of muscle that was between him and his wife. A flash of desperation hit Matthew and he lashed out, attempting to punch Jason straight in the jaw but his movements were sluggish and predictable so Jason merely caught Matthew's fist in the palm of his hand. Another wave of agony flowed up Matthew's arm as he realised that his knuckles were horrifically torn. His punch had left a crimson mark on the centre of Jason's palm, his own blood smeared across his friend's skin.

"You can't drive like this Matthew. Get in the passenger's seat and I'll drive you. You're going to get yourself or someone else killed if you drive in this state. Let me lock the door to keep Skip in and we can go."

As Jason took the keys from Matthew's hands, the broken man got into the passenger's seat and put on his seatbelt instinctually. He leant forward, placing his head in his hands and just staring at the floor of the car. On a normal day, he would sit in this seat and sing along to the radio or make bad puns whilst Stephanie drove them to wherever they were going. Other times, he would work on scripts or thumbnails in the backseat. He would just ignore his beautiful wife for the several hours they were in the car, work taking over his priorities. How could he have not set aside more time for her? Sure, whenever she got sick he would drop everything to take care of her but that was a physical sickness. What if her mental health had been going downhill all this time? What if this was a suicide attempt to escape this stressful life that she lived? What if it was a way to escape... him?

What if his negligence was the reason she was fighting for her life? He would live the rest of his life knowing that he was the reason that his wife was dead.

Soon, Jason got back into the car and started up the engine. His face was deadly serious. He was clearly worried and terrified as to what was going to happen to Stephanie but in that moment he was more concerned about Matthew. His friend was shattering before his eyes. It had barely been an hour since he had found Stephanie on the kitchen floor but Matthew was already injuring himself in a desperate attempt to break out of his own mind. Jason didn't want to imagine the hell that Matthew's brain was putting him through but he was most concerned about whether Matthew would be able to fight against it.

The drive to the hospital was silent. Both of the men in the car were lost in their own thoughts. Matthew's mind was falling further and further down into a dark abyss, a vicious spiral that focused on self-loathing and hatred. He was clearly blaming himself for what had happened to his wife and the frustration of not knowing what had happened was eating him alive. His mind taunted him with images and memories of all the good times they had experienced together, then snatching them away and replacing it with the picture of her unconscious form. A cruel reminder that those might be the last memories they ever make together.

Jason couldn't get the image of Stephanie lying on the floor out of his head, her normally bright eyes and kind face completely pale and empty of all emotion. He wasn't sure whether Matthew had noticed it but when they had loaded her onto the stretcher, Jason had seen that her hair had been matted with blood – clearly she had smashed her head into the floor when she collapsed. Jason had watched enough medical dramas to know that this was an incredibly bad sign. He didn't know what he'd be like if it was Genev in the hospital instead of Stephanie. Shaking his head, he focused on getting to the hospital. He could panic later but right now someone needed to be in control of the situation and clearly Matthew was in no physical or emotional state to do so.

Pulling up to the front of the hospital, Jason pushed Matthew out and directed for him to go inside whilst he parked the car. When he stepped through the hospital doors, the smell of anaesthetic and medical equipment hit him like a truck and sent an involuntary shiver up his spine. Normally he didn't mind hospitals; he had spent a good part of his neuroscience studies in hospitals looking at brains. Yet today, the situation made every person in that hospital a potential threat upon his wife's fragile life. The walls were painted a calming blue that reminded Matthew of the ocean but their calming effect was broken as the cries of the sick and injured filtered into his ears. Young children with broken bones sobbed and their mothers tried to hush them but to no avail. The physical pain they were feeling at that moment was nothing compared to the searing agony ripping through Matthew every second that Stephanie wasn't by his side.

"Excuse me sir but are you, Mr Patrick? The paramedics that came in a while ago with your wife told us that we should be expecting you."

Turning to the kind voice, Matthew was faced with a young nurse whose kind smile was such a stark contrast to the dark expression that was fixed onto his face. He nodded in response to her question, still lacking the mental strength to speak as if speaking to anyone apart from his loved ones would cause the world to shatter around him. His hand moved instinctually to move his fringe out of his face but paused when the nurse gasped in shock. Confusion switched to clarity as the rips in his knuckles still oozed blood. A blush of embarrassment at his rash behaviour flushed across the back of his neck and he put his hand behind his back as if hiding it would make it no longer exist. The nurse frowned and gestured for him to follow her further into the hospital. They walked swiftly down the corridor, further into the bowels of the hospital – leading him into the intensive care unit and into one of the few lit rooms.

"She's in there. Please wait in there whilst I go get the doctor to explain what is going on and also someone to help me patch up your hand. That's going to get infected if we leave it for too long."

Stepping into the room, Matthew blinked frantically in order to let his eyes adjust to the bright lights. He paused in the doorway, ignoring the receding footsteps of the nurse as his attention was entirely devoted to the sight in front of him. The room was brightly lit and the walls were painted a stereotypical magnolia. The room was a simple set up, with a single hospital bed pressed up against the wall and an armchair next to it. Stepping softly, Matthew made his way across the room and sat in the chair. Staring across the room Matthew's heart caught in his throat as he looked at the fragile form of his wife in the bed. They had tucked her legs under the blanket but her green blouse had been replaced with the typical hospital gown. Her left arm had an IV attached to it, the needle poking through the crease of her elbow and the tube trailing up to a bag that hung on a stand. That bag provided the nutrients that her body needed to recover. A sad smile crossed his face as he remembered the joke they used to make about his Diet Coke obsession:

"If you ever end up in the hospital and need an IV, I bet they will just fill it with Diet Coke and you'll be up and about in no time! I mean I never want you to have to be in hospital but it'd be funny."

His eyes trailed up her body, noticing a tube going into her nose. The nose he normally booped during a live stream was attached to a ventilator that sat beside her still form. A few electrodes poked out from below her neck and on her arms, connected to a heart rate monitor. The machinery groaned and beeped in a menacing rhythm. It wasn't comforting to hear his wife's life dictated by a series of machines that could fail at any moment. He trusted the hospital but the idea of the love of his life due to a machine failure was becoming more and more terrifying the longer he fixated on it. Reaching forward gently, Matthew took a hold of the hand that wasn't attached to the IV and held it in his. Her fingers were cold in his and he gripped them gently, his heart longing for her to squeeze back. All he wanted was a sign, any sign that she was going to be ok but she remained still and what remained of Matthew's hope was diminishing with every obnoxious beep of the heart monitor.

"Mr Patrick? This is Doctor Hill. He's in charge of Stephanie's care since she was admitted about two hours ago."

Glancing away from Stephanie for a moment, Matthew acknowledged the doctor but didn't really see him. He shook his head quickly, trying to clear the dark fog that was clouding it and paid attention to the doctor. As the doctor spoke in a gentle but firm tone, the two nurses that had suddenly appeared began working on Matthew's hand. They cleaned the wounds and wrapped them with bandages, carefully splinting them together in order to make sure that the skin healed properly. The damage he had done to his hand wasn't permanent but it did mean that there was no way he was going to be able to drive for about a week. Like that mattered since Stephanie could potentially never drive again.

"Your wife was admitted about two hours ago after apparently collapsing and injuring her head on the floor when she fell. Despite having a pulse, her erratic breathing and lack of consciousness were an indicator of something more than a concussion occurring. We are unsure of what caused her to collapse in the first place but according to your friend Jason, it could have potentially been a combination of stress and exhaustion. We took her in for a CAT scan as soon as she came in and the results came in shortly after you got here."

Matthew's patience was wearing thin and he snapped back at the doctor:

"Well, what are they? There's no need for this whole song and dance just tell me if she's going to live for fuck's sake."

The doctor sighed and rubbed his forehead with his hands before replying to Matthew, incredibly cautious as to Matthew's potential reaction to it.

"The CAT scan indicates that there are epidural and subdural hematomas in her brain that are pressing down and preventing her from waking up. If we do not attempt to remove them quickly, then her chances of survival are extremely low and her chances of not suffering brain damage are next to none. We wanted to ask you first before we went for the surgery as you are her husband and the chances of this making a difference are slim."

A frustrated growl emerged from Matthew's chest and his hands shook. Attempting to control his anger at the ineptitude of the doctors at this hospital, he turned back to look at Stephanie – trying to think how she would behave if their roles were reversed. Knowing her, she'd be taking control of the situation and gaining as much information as she could to better his survival. People always said he came across as very intelligent but in fact, he always thought Stephanie was more intelligent than him. In this moment, all his knowledge about the world of medicine had been thrown out of the window. He knew nothing except that every second that he wasted was another second that Stephanie grew closer to death. Lifting her hand to his lips, he kissed it gently and turned to the doctor with a grave expression:

"Do the surgery. Save her."

The doctor nodded and said something to the nurses who vanished from Matthew's side and ventured out into the hospital to organise Stephanie's surgery. He was ushered from her room and taken back to the waiting room, sat down on a chair and left alone. The world around him faded and he sat on the hard, plastic chair as if it was the only rock in the middle of a raging ocean. New patients came in and were treated, various stretchers and gurneys went past Matthew but he didn't notice. Screams of pain and tears of relief surrounded him in a storm of emotion and fear. At some point, Jason and Genev came and sat next to him but he didn't acknowledge them. They just sat with him as Stephanie's life hung in the balance. The tears that he had held in check whilst with the doctor came flooding out again, leaving tracks down his unwashed face. If Stephanie was here right now she'd demand he go take a shower but she wasn't here. She wasn't.

Hours passed and the people in the waiting room changed. Genev left the room for a while, returning with fast food and drinks to sustain them through the night but Matthew refused his. He wouldn't eat or even attempt to take a nap. He merely sat there with his legs pulled up to his chest and tears pouring out of his eyes. The room was mostly quiet, excluding the occasional whimper of pain from other patients and the ceaseless ticking of the clock. These sounds were all accompanied by the quiet sobs of a broken man whose wife was fighting for her life. There was nothing he could do about it and he knew it. His phone constantly vibrated in his pocket, reminding him of the community that he had left confused and all those who cared deeply for Stephanie who had no idea what was going on.

"Matthew. I've got Stephanie's parents on the phone. I've explained what happened but they want to talk to you."

It was about 5 AM. It had been nearly 12 hours since it had all begun and Matthew hadn't slept for nearly 48 hours. Jason stood next to him, a Diet Coke in one hand and the phone in another. Matthew took both from him, knowing that he couldn't avoid this conversation. They deserved to know what was going on and if they wanted to blame him for their daughter's suffering then he was ready to receive it. They couldn't hate him more than he hated himself at that moment. Taking a sip of the Diet Coke, Matthew laughed bitterly as the caffeine slowly flooded his system. This had all started because of his stupid addiction to a soft drink and what was he doing? Drinking more. He put the phone to his ear and spoke:

"Matthew here."

There was nothing he could say to make them feel any better so he merely let them know that he was holding the phone and prepared himself for the worst.

"Matthew we are so sorry. We're grateful that you and Jason found Stephanie swiftly and that she is retrieving medical attention. We are also thankful that you made the choice to send her into surgery. It's comforting to know that Stephanie is in safe hands during this terrifying time."

"T-Thank you."

"There is one issue. We can't get out to the hospital. There is a huge storm brewing here that is blocking all flights and if we were to drive to you both, it would take us at least several days. We want you to know... God, why is this so hard to say. If they make you choose. We will accept whatever decision you make. We will support you whatever happens."

The phone tumbled out of Matthew's hands and onto the floor. It bounced and slid across the tiles, coming to a stop next to the coffee table that sat in the corner. Genev came to Matthew's side, taking his hands in hers and looking him in the eye – trying to decipher what could have caused him to react this way. Jason, on the other hand, knew exactly what had happened and went to pick up the phone, leaving promptly out the front door in order to grab some air. Matthew's breath came in short; frantic pants and the feeling of panic began to well up inside him once again. It crushed his lungs and constricted his chest as if he was trapped underneath a large boulder, fighting for his life. They couldn't put that decision on his shoulders, he couldn't handle that. He wouldn't have to make that choice, would he? She was going to be fine. The surgery would save her. It had to save her.

"I can't do this. I can't handle this. Life without her by my side isn't worth living. Everything we've worked for, all the struggles we've been through would be for nothing if she wasn't here to experience it all with me. All the countries we wanted to go to, all the games we wanted to play and the people we never got to meet. What would I have become without her kindness? Her wit and her hard work? I'd probably still be in New York, struggling to get by as an actor. I would've been homeless without her. She is my home..."

Genev looked at Matthew with grief and despair in her eyes. She glanced back to where Jason used to be sitting and sighed when she saw him missing. Matthew held onto her hands as if she was the only anchor in the endless storm of grief and pain that he was experiencing. Tears slipped from Genev's eyes and she gave Matthew a weak smile, attempting to instil some form of hope into him but the grief of the situation was too strong for her. She stood and left through the front door as well, seeking the comfort of Jason's arms. Matthew was left alone in the waiting room, his fringe floating in the breeze from the air conditioning. Glancing up at the nearby mirror, Matthew was startled at what he saw. He was a wreck. Bloodshot eyes and crumpled clothing, paired with a hollow face and empty eyes created a haunting image to look at. The mischievous sparkle that Stephanie loved so much was nowhere to be seen. Only despair and fear remained.

"Mr Patrick? The doctor would like to see you."

Matthew shot up from his chair and raced to follow the nurse, desperate for any update on how Stephanie was doing. Maybe she had opened her eyes briefly or had responded well to the surgery? Maybe he'd walk in and she'd be standing there, perfectly healthy. Maybe she'd leave here with a scar on her head but everything else intact. They could go back to playing video games together, he'd let her have the controller as much as she wanted because there she was his player two and he wanted her to always know that. She'd never be put under such stress again. He'd ensure that she was his priority, now and always.

They stepped into a different hospital room, with the same layout as the previous one but there were more machines this time. The ventilator, IV and heart rate monitor were still there but there were several more bags and unknown machines lining the sides of the room. He could barely make out Stephanie's delicate face underneath the mass of tubes that coated her entire body. The breathing mask that covered her face was tilted slightly to the side to allow her head to roll off of the pillow. Bandages were wrapped around the top of her head so he couldn't see whatever they had done to her during the surgery. Frowning at the sight in front of him, Matthew turned on his heel to face the doctor who stood in the doorway.

"What is it? Why is she on more machines than earlier? Did the surgery work?"

The doctor shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, glancing down at his paperwork nervously. Matthew raised an eyebrow, tapping his fingers against his arm impatiently. The answer took a while to come and the doctor stepped closer to Matthew in an attempt to bring some form of comfort to him.

"Mr Patrick. I don't know how to say this. We managed to remove the blood clots from her brain but your wife hasn't been responding to any stimuli. The lack of response indicates that we got to her too late. The chances of her waking up are about 1% but even if she did wake up, she would be severely brain damaged and most likely unable to function normally.

It is our professional opinion as doctors that we do not allow her to live in this pain. She is currently on life support, hence the respiration unit on her face right now. As her husband and emergency contact, this decision is yours. I hate to put this on your shoulders but I hope you will make a decision that she would support if she was awake right now. We will give you time to make a decision."

Matthew staggered backwards as if he had been physically assaulted, his back slamming into the wall of the hospital room. He slid down the wall, his body unable to support himself as shock flooded through his system. Whenever he played video games, he always felt strange about having authority over NPC's. He always watched people play genocide runs of games and it made him uncomfortable, seeing how they could so easily cut down the people in their way. Holding another's life in his hand even virtually made him uncomfortable so sitting in this hospital room with the fate of his wife resting entirely on his shoulders was a terrifying notion.

How could he survive life without her? Sitting on the live stream couch, turning to the side to tell a bad pun to make her laugh but she wouldn't be there. Not getting to enjoy watching her rant about something that annoyed her or watching her make a good argument when they debated. Going abroad and buying special types of tea to bring home to her, only to come back to an empty teapot. Skip meowing pitifully for Stephanie when she went away for a meeting but this time he would never stop crying for her. He imagined standing over Stephanie's grave. Leaving flowers there once a week, refreshing the dying flowers with fresh white lilies, her favourite.

Looking down at the bandages on his hand, he remembered the pain that he had experienced whilst punching the concrete. Yet the pain of his hand splitting open was nothing compared to the searing waterfall of pain that was openly flowing through his body as he thought about the loss of his wife. He would be left alone in the world. Everyone else had someone in their lives that they could turn to in times of danger but Matthew was so close to losing his. He couldn't lose her. Life without her wouldn't be worth living.

Though for her, life in that state may not be worth living. His determination not to lose her could put her through years of pain and agony. Matthew knew very little about the lives of those who suffered extreme damage but what he did know was that there were very few accounts of survivors. Those who did survive tended not to live more than a decade after the tragic event. Their quality of life was tragic. She wouldn't be able to do the live streams or to write scripts. They couldn't write scripts together or travel abroad. Living her whole life trapped within her own mind, unable to laugh or to cry with him. They couldn't cuddle together in bed or play with Skip.

Matthew's whole body shook with terror and grief. He had no control over the tremors that were wracking his body, completely powerless over his own form. Clenching his injured fist together, he felt the bandages flexing and the healing wounds underneath them begin to crack open, causing him to hiss from the pain. Yet that pain could not break him free from his own mind. His chest grew tight for the millionth time that day and he felt his lungs burn in desperation for oxygen. Thoughts swirled in his brain like an inescapable whirlpool of negativity and fear. His entire world was crumbling as if it was made of sand and the tide had come in. Stranded out at sea, the world was dark and full of terrors without the light of his life at his side.

Hours passed and nobody came to Matthew's side. He had no idea where Jason and Genev had gone but in that moment all he wanted was for Stephanie to get up from her bed and to wrap her arms around him. Yet the only comfort he had was his own arms, which he hugged himself with, in a pathetic attempt to console the storm of grief that was raging inside. If Stephanie died, all he would have would be their memories together. If she survived and lived the rest of her life debilitated by the severe brain damage, she would only be a ghost of her former self. A shadow of her would haunt the rest of his life; she would never be the same. She wouldn't be the girl he married anymore.

"Mr Patrick? Are you ok? Do you want us to get anyone?"

The two nurses that had bandaged his hand up earlier stood in the doorframe. The look of sorrow in their eyes was evident and made the waves of agony that washed over Matthew's entire being all the stronger. Matthew's voice was hoarse from all the crying he had been doing for the past twenty-four hours but he managed to choke out:

"Can you get the doctor for me? I've made up my mind."

Nodding, the nurses vanished back into the corridor and Matthew fought to regain control of his mind before the doctor arrived. Every thought was filled with images of Stephanie, flashing through his memories with her by his side. All he could think when considering each memory was that it wasn't enough. They hadn't spent enough time together. They could've started a family together and had children running around the house. He could've been incredibly proud of his wife as she cared for their children, kissing their injuries and cheering them on in whatever they wished to pursue. They could've grown old together yet she would've still been beautiful to him no matter how many wrinkles or grey hairs she ended up with. His career seemed hollow and void of all emotion when he envisioned it without her. There would be no banter on the live stream or support when the haters overreacted to a theory. He would be trapped alone in a sea of negativity.

"The nurses reported that you had made up your mind?"

Matthew forced his still shaking body up from the floor, staggering over to the chair by Stephanie's bed and placing himself in it. He leant forward and took a gentle hold of her hand. Turning to face the doctor, his eyes shining with tears, Matthew spoke quietly:

"End it. I can't let her live a life of suffering. She deserves the best in the world but I can't provide that for her anymore. I don't want to let her go but she's better off escaping the pain. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if my own selfish reasons made her suffer any longer."

The doctor nodded sadly, walking over to the ventilation equipment and pressing several buttons – shutting the equipment down completely. As the machinery shut down, Matthew stood up and placed a gentle kiss on his wife's lips, pulling away and listening to the beeping of the heart moment. Every time the rhythm slowed, it was like a knife in Matthew's heart. He stood there for a while, his hand in hers and just listened to the beats of her heart grew weaker and weaker. Soon, that horrifying tone echoed around the room and Stephanie breathed her last.

"Time of death, 6:30 PM. I'm sorry Mr Patrick."

Tears dripped down from Matthew's face as that tone confirmed the end of his adventure with Stephanie. They had run out of road to travel together. It was 6:30 PM and for most people, they would be sitting eating dinner in their homes. For Matthew, 6:30 PM marked the end of the worst 24 hours of his life. For Matthew, 6:30 PM marked the time that his life had ended.