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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐍𝐔𝐑𝐒𝐄𝐒 of West Valley General watched the news cast in the doctor's lounge. Everyone except Stella. She couldn't stomach it—couldn't bring herself to watch the replays or scroll through social media. Two weeks had passed, and her brother was still in a coma. Nathan and Janette rotated visits, but Stella—what could you even say about her? She barely left his side, only stepping away when duty forced her onto the hospital floor.

The ordeal had worn her thin. She drowned herself in work, moving through shifts like a ghost. Her best friends, and her new friends at the hospital saw it but said nothing—better to let her keep herself busy than risk breaking her.

She hadn't heard from Johnny since the fight. Word came only through Janette: he'd gone back to the bottle. Then he disappeared. No one knew where. Harsh as it sounded, Stella couldn't afford to care. Her only priority was August. Johnny could take care of himself—or not.

But August... August hadn't improved. Every day was the same. Machines breathing for him. Silence.

At the nurse's station, Stella charted, her eyes drifting to her brother's room every few seconds. A hand landed gently on her shoulder—April.

"Hey."

"Hey." Stella's smile was fragile.

"How are you holding up?"

She shrugged, eyes darting back toward August. "I'm alright, I guess."

"Stell... your brother's a fighter. He's gonna pull through."

Stella's lips trembled into a faint smile as tears slipped free. "It wasn't supposed to happen like this."

"I know, hon. I know." April pulled her in, hugging her tight. "But listen—you've barely eaten. Why don't you grab something from the cafeteria? We can't have you falling apart too."

"But my brother—"

"Will be alright," April cut in, steady and warm. "If anything changes, I'll text you myself."

Stella hesitated, then nodded. April was right—she had to keep her strength. She grabbed her purse, slipped into August's room, kissed his forehead softly, and whispered something only he could hear. Then she headed for the elevator.

Outside, headlights cut across the hospital's front entrance. Johnny stepped out of the beat-up car he'd borrowed and stared up at the building. Two weeks gone, a stint in jail, a whiskey haze—and yet there was only one place he belonged.

Inside, he walked to the front desk.

"Can I help you?" the nurse asked.

"Yeah, I'm here to see August Walker." Johnny said

"He's in the ICU. Are you family?" the nurse asked

"No, but—"

"Only family, emergency contacts, doctors, and patients are allowed in the ICU." the nurse said

"Come on, can't you make an exception?" Johnny asked

"Those are the rules." the nurse said

Johnny leaned closer, throwing out a half-hearted wink. "Can't you, y'know, break the rules? Be a bad girl?"

"Only family, emergency contacts, doctors, and patients," she repeated flatly.

Johnny muttered under his breath, "You're no fun," and turned away. His eyes landed on a white coat draped over a chair. An idea sparked.

Minutes later, in the bathroom, Johnny pulled on the coat and squared up to the mirror. His eyes were bloodshot, his face worn down, but he gave it a shot:

"Hello, I'm Dr. L... Nguyen. Just here to check a patient."

A stall door creaked open. A man came out, zipping his pants. "Oh hey, doc. I got this..." The man started. Johnny turned around, revealing his scraggy beard, bloodshot eyes, and beat-up face. "You're not a doctor. Sorry."

Johnny ripped the coat off, slamming it into the sink. "Screw this."

Then he spotted the paper towel dispenser. Another idea. One hard headbutt later, blood streamed down his forehead. It hurt like hell—but it got him exactly where he wanted to be.

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As a nurse dabbed antiseptic on his cut, another read over his chart.

"We might need to keep him overnight. Lab found blood in his urine."

Johnny snorted. "Oh, that? No big deal. Got in a fight last night. Just a little jam in the lemonade. Goes away in two, three days."

The nurses exchanged a wary look. Johnny tugged his shirt up, revealing a bruise that sprawled across his lower back. "Little Bengay'll fix it, right?"

"Wait here," one nurse said quickly, then ushered her coworker out.

The second they were gone, Johnny slipped out and followed the hall. He knew where he was going.

When he found August's room, he froze. The flowers, the cards, the radio playing George Jones' The Grand Tour low in the corner—it all pressed down on him.

He stepped inside. August lay pale and still, swallowed by tubes and wires, a brace locking his body in place.

Johnny's throat tightened. He moved closer, reaching out to grip the boy's hand.

"Hey, buddy. Sorry I haven't been up here. Your family... even Stella doesn't want me around. Can't blame them. I thought I was helping you. Thought I was making you strong." His voice cracked. "But I screwed up. I failed you. I'm sorry, August. I'm so damn sorry."

His hand trembled against August's. "I don't know if you can hear me, but you've gotta fight. You hear me? You don't quit. You keep going. You've got it in you. You're Cobra Kai." His breath shook. "And if you don't do it for me... do it for Stella. She needs you."

He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, leaning down so his voice dropped to a whisper. "I love her, kid. Stella... she's the best thing to ever happen to me. I can't lose her. And she can't lose you. So fight. Please."

"Excuse me?"

Johnny's head shot up. April stood in the doorway. "Only family is allowed in here."

Johnny's jaw tightened, tears streaking his face. He gave August's hand one last squeeze. "Yeah... yeah, I was just leaving."

He walked past her, shoulders heavy, and for once didn't bother to hide how broken he was.

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The next morning, Stella—who finally had a day off—was jolted awake along with Nathan and Janette by the shrill, piercing alarm of August's monitor. The steady beeps had spiked, then turned into a flatline.

"Code blue, ICU!" Maggie's voice rang out as April and two other nurses rushed in.

"Sir, ma'am—you need to step out." April's voice was firm but sympathetic as she guided Nathan, Janette, and Stella into the hallway.

Through the glass, they could see Dr. Halstead moving fast. "V-fib! Start compressions!" he ordered as one nurse pumped at August's chest. Another called out, "No pulse."

"Charging—200 joules," a tech said as the defibrillator paddles were pressed against August's chest. His body jolted.

The flatline held.

"Again. Come on, stay with us, August." Halstead's voice was steady but urgent.

Then—suddenly—the heart monitor picked up. A thin, faltering beep. Then another. Then a steady rhythm.

August's bright blue eyes shot open, blinking against the harsh light.

"Holy hell..." Nathan muttered, hand gripping the back of Stella's shoulder, voice rough with awe and relief. "By the grace of God, he's still here."

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Later, August was propped up in his hospital bed, pale but awake, tubes and monitors still surrounding him. The room was filled with a strange mix of relief and worry.

"How are you feeling, hon?" Lori asked brightly, striding in with her rhinestone-studded stethoscope catching the fluorescent light. Kara followed just behind her, polished and composed, black stethoscope draped neatly around her neck. Amy slipped in more quietly, Carter followed, steady and watchful.

"Can't feel anything below my waist, but I'm fine," August admitted, voice flat but brave. His eyes flicked to the table piled high with baskets of fruit, muffins, and comic books. "What's all that?"

Nathan stood, grabbing a comic book off the stack and pressing it into his son's hands. His voice was deep, ragged around the edges but steady. "This one's from your buddy Demetri. He said it's not UV-resistant, so don't leave it by the window. The LaRussos sent a fruit basket. Station dropped off muffins."

"Oh, and we got you guys a basket too," Lori chimed in with her trademark sparkle. "Snacks, muffins, cookies. The works."

"And I sent a bottle of wine over—for you and Nathan." Kara added smoothly, flashing a knowing smile at Janette.

Amy leaned closer to August, her warmth quiet but present. "The teachers and I pooled together and sent muffins too. A little comfort food never hurts."

"Thanks, guys. I really appreciate it," August said, managing a small smile. He hesitated, then looked around the room. "Where's Sensei?"

The energy shifted. Silence fell over the room like a heavy blanket.

Nathan's jaw tightened, his hand flexing against his thigh. He said nothing, just let out a low exhale.

Carter, sensing the tension, leaned toward Stella, his voice low but steady. "Hey. Don't worry about him right now. You've done everything you could for your brother. He's awake. That's what matters today." His eyes softened as they met hers. "And we're all here—for you, too."

Stella gave a faint nod, her fingers brushing her father's hand as she tried to keep herself together.

In this moment, the only truth that mattered was simple: August was alive. The road ahead was going to be long, brutal, and uncertain—but for now, he was here. And his family wasn't letting go.