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Cʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 40
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(Y/n)'s POV
"Let me see him!" I shouted, desperation clawing at my throat as I attempted to push past the nurse. My father's grip tightened around my arms, holding me back, which only intensified my sobs. "Please," I pleaded, struggling against his embrace, "I just want to see him." I sank to my knees on the cold floor, while my father wrapped his arms around me from behind. He gently stroked my back, whispering soothing words into my ear, but my heart was too heavy with pain to find any comfort in his attempts.

Since the moment I learned that Anakin had been in a motorcycle accident with a slim chance of survival, my mind had spiraled into an emotional mess. Tears had yet to stop streaming down my cheeks, and I had fought tooth and nail against every doctor and nurse who told me I couldn't see him. While Obi-Wan sat quietly in the corner of the lobby, his head buried in his hands, while Ahsoka slept beside him, oblivious to everything going on.

"I'm sorry, but he's still in surgery. I can't allow anyone in," the nurse said, her voice steady and patient. She must have encountered countless families in distress, each one a mirror of my own. "And even when he is ready, only immediate family will be permitted to see him."

"She is his family," Obi-Wan finally spoke, breaking his silence. He lifted his head, his eyes glistening with unshed tears as he turned to me, then back to the nurse. "What can you tell us?" His voice was a whisper, filled with fear as he tapped his foot anxiously.

The room was full with tension, anda heavy silence surrounded us as we waited for her to answer his question. Not even the sound of anyone's breathing could be heard, since we all held our breaths in anticipation for her to speak,"Fortunately, he was wearing his helmet; it may have saved his life. I can't promise anything, but it has certainly given him a fighting chance," she said, her voice steady yet holding a serious professionalism. I gripped my father's hand tightly, tears streaming down my face, my head resting against his shoulder as I tried to suppress my sobs. "He has several broken ribs, a punctured lung, and his left leg is fractured in two places. There are multiple cuts, scrapes, bruises, and internal bleeding, including a brain hemorrhage." She paused, before delivering the most heartbreaking news. "Our main concern is the head trauma. We won't know the extent of the damage until he regains consciousness, and that's only if he does."

My quiet sobs erupted into loud cries, the pain overwhelming as I cried into my father's shoulder. "I just want to see him," I begged, my voice muffled by my sorrow, and he wrapped his arms around me, trying to provide comfort. But all I wanted in this moment were Anakin's arms around me instead.

"And what are the chances he won't wake up?" Obi-Wan's asked, his voice hoarse and strained from his own tears.

"I'm afraid that's a question only the doctor can answer for you," she said, her gaze shifting between us with a gentle sympathy, landing on Piett, who was nestled in Josie's embrace in the corner. I was glad she was giving her attention to him; after all, I had my father by my side. Piett, on the other hand, seemed to be alone since none of their other friends had arrived yet. I had heard that Rex was on his way with the others not too long ago. "He should be out soon to speak with you."

Obi-Wan rose from his chair, casting a careful glance at Ahsoka to ensure she remained undisturbed in her sleep. "I realize you can't provide a professional answer to that question. However, based on your experience, do you believe he will wake up?" His voice trembled slightly, and he inhaled deeply, allowing a few tears to escape down his cheeks, which he hastily wiped away with his sleeve, "I promise not to take your words as an absolute, but I need something." He begged.

The nurse hesitated, glancing over her shoulder before turning back, her shoulders dropping in a sigh. "I wish I could assure you that he will make a full recovery. However, in my years of experience, I've witnessed many cases like this, and only a small fraction of patients pull through. But even if they do, head trauma of this nature is serious, and most never return to who they once were."

Obi-Wan nodded slowly, and I buried my face deeper into my father's shoulder. I was convinced that the last time I heard his voice was indeed the last time, and that the last time I looked into his beautiful eyes was the last time. The realization shattered me; I had never imagined a pain so intense could exist. It was excruciating, as if he had already slipped away from us—from me.

"Thank you," Anakin's older brother finally spoke, his voice a soft whisper of gratitude. I caught pieces of their conversation, a few short exchanges shared between them to better understand Anakin's condition. Eventually, the nurse turned to leave, assuring us she would return with news as soon as possible.

"It's going to be okay," my father continued to whisper to me.

I shook my head, raising my eyes to meet his, revealing the redness and swelling on my face. "It'll only be okay if he's okay," I managed to say, my voice quivering. "I love him, Dad, and if he doesn't pull through, he'll die thinking I hated him."

"I'm sure he knows how much you love him," he replied softly, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear and gently wiping away a tear with his thumb.

Obi-Wan spoke in a low voice, nearly a whisper, which caught my father's attention and, in turn, mine. "It just doesn't make sense," he said, shaking his head with a furrowed brow. He began to pace the waiting room, his footsteps softly echoing against the tile floor. "He's always so careful when he rides. He knows that bike inside and out. There's no way he would simply lose control and go off the road."

"No, he wouldn't," I agreed, my voice quivering as I fought back tears, hastily wiping my eyes with the back of my hand. "I've ridden with him more times than I can count, he's careful and he's smart. I think someone drove him off the road." That thought had haunted me since I first learned about the accident. Anakin had often told me how he took extra measures while riding, determined to protect his family from further pain.

"Are you implying it was a hit-and-run?" Josie asked, her eyes wide with worry.

"More like a deliberate attack," Piett added, his tone serious. His eyes met mine and I knew he was thinking about the same person I was thinking of.

My father looked between us, a knowing expression crossing his face. "And why do I get the impression you two might have a suspect in mind, if there was indeed someone else involved?"

I bit down on my tongue. I had promised Anakin that his secret would stay with me, but what did that promise mean now? The truth was undeniable: they were the ones to blame. With Anakin in such a dire situation, our silence felt meaningless. Andres' threats had lost their power, "The same one who left him in the liquor store that night." If Anakin dies, I will make sure that Andres is stripped of all joy and freedom for the rest of his life.

"(Y/n)," Piett warned, his eyes wide with worry. When our gazes met, he shook his head, "Don't, you have no idea what—"

"What more could he possibly do that he hasn't already?" I argued, rising to my feet as anger flared within me, pushing aside the sorrow. "He promised Anakin he'd leave him alone as long as he stayed quiet, and look where we are now," I gestured toward the doors of the operating room, "He's in there, fighting for his life, so what good is our silence?" I spat the words, each one dripping with bitterness.

Piett fell silent, and I could see the recognition in his eyes; he understood I was right.

"Someone speak up," Obi-Wan ordered, his tone resolute.

I turned sharply to him, "Andres. His name is Andres."

✦

Some might argue that naming Andres was a stupid decision, an incredibly stupid one at that. But, I believe it was the smartest choice I could have made.

If Anakin manages to wake up and escape this nightmare, I have no doubt that Andres will not think twice before pursuing him again. The fear of being exposed for running him off the road and down that steep cliff is now another reason to make sure Anakin stops breathing.

While there may not be concrete evidence, it's clear to me that he is the only one who could be responsible. From the moment Anakin stepped out of prison, Andres and his gang have been relentless in their mission to interfere in his life, and I know they won't stop here. Informing my father about Andres was a decision I will always stand by, without a hint of regret.

True, there's little my father can do with that information given the absence of proof. What w need is for Anakin to wake up and corroborate that Andres was at the liquor store and involved in the accident. But for now, at least, Andres is on his radar and can be kept from ever coming near this room.

"I'm right here with you, Ani," I murmured, gripping his hand tightly.

Obi-Wan and I had been allowed into the room just under five minutes ago. Since then, I hadn't released his hand, clinging to the hope that he could sense that I'm here and know that he wasn't alone. It was a struggle to look at him in in this condition; his body was covered in bruises, cuts, and scrapes, and he was hooked up with wires and tubes—one tube inserted down his throat.

If I could, I would trade places with him in a heartbeat.

Obi-Wan stood by the door, engaged in a quiet conversation with the doctor regarding Anakin's critical condition. I caught fragments of their exchange, but my focus was primarily on Anakin, who lay so motionless before me. Tears filled my eyes as I whispered desperate pleas, "Please wake up, my love. I need you," I gently pressed his hand to my lips and placed soft kisses upon it. "I promise, I never stopped loving you. Despite how angry I was at you, you have always been there, and you always will be." My voice shook, heavy with emotion.

If he doesn't make it, I hope knows that he will always and forever be the love of my life.

With a deep sigh, I closed my eyes, listening to rhythmic beeping of the monitors, praying desperately that I would never hear the dreaded sound of a flatline. "He would be glad you're here."

When I opened my eyes, I found Obi-Wan watching me. "Then I'll never leave," I replied, my voice hoarse yet firm.

He offered a faint smile and settled into the chair beside Anakin's bed, his eyes filled with grief as he spoke. "The doctor mentioned that the longer he remains in this coma, the slimmer the chances of him waking up become. But he suggested we wait a few weeks before making any decisions about..." his voice trailed off, and he looked down, tears in his eyes.

"You're not giving up on him. He will wake up," I insisted, my fingers brushing against Anakin's bruised cheek, a tender gesture infused with hope. "He has to. He can't leave me, and he certainly can't leave you or Ahsoka"

"I admire your hope; it fuels my own," Obi-Wan said, his voice steady despite the turmoil within. "But we must also prepare ourselves for the worst." He was being reasonable, even though it was likely killing him inside.

Once more, I closed my eyes, pressing soft kisses to the back of Anakin's hand, whispering, "Please don't leave me. I need you."

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