══════ஓ๑❀*̥๑ஓ══════

𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀 stepped through the front doors of West Valley General, nerves and excitement carrying her forward. She entered the elevator, pressed the button for the second floor, and adjusted her bag strap as the doors slid shut.

When she arrived, a nurse in her early thirties sat at the station, flipping through a patient chart. She looked up with a polite smile.

"Hi, I'm Stella Walker. I'm the new pediatrics nurse. I'm here for my orientation."

"Oh, good morning, Stella. My name is April Sexton. I'll be training you today." April rose from her chair, then gestured toward another woman beside her. "This is Sharon Goodwin, she's the head of patient and medical services."

"It's a pleasure meeting you, Mrs. Goodwin." Stella smiled warmly.

"You as well, Stella. We're happy to have you." Sharon returned the smile.

"You can come with me, Stella," April said, leading her down the hall. "Our first patient is a little boy named Asher. He just had his appendix removed after appendicitis. He doesn't seem to like any of us. I hope you're ready for that."

"It will be okay. He's a child—he's scared, he's in a place he doesn't know. We have to show him everything will be okay." Stella's voice was calm, her smile reassuring.

They entered the patient's room, where a small boy sat propped up in bed, IV in his arm, cartoons flickering across the screen. His eyes darted nervously toward them.

"Hi," Asher said shyly.

"Hi, Asher." Stella's voice softened as she stepped closer, her expression bright and nurturing. "My name is Stella. I'm one of the new nurses here. You mind if I sit with you for a few minutes?"

Asher nodded and turned the TV down. Stella pulled up a chair beside him.

"What are you watching?" she asked gently.

"Tom & Jerry. My daddy used to watch it when he was a kid, so I watch it. I want to be just like my daddy."

"Well, Asher, you can be anything you want to be. And if you want to be just like your daddy, well then, you be just like your daddy." Stella smiled as she reached for her stethoscope.

"What does your daddy do?" Asher asked while she listened to his lungs.

"Well, back home, he was a legendary Texas Ranger. Here, he's the chief of police." Stella moved the stethoscope to his chest, listening carefully. "Well, your heart and lungs both sound good."

"Does your daddy have handcuffs?" Asher asked eagerly.

"Yes he does, but he rarely has to use them." Stella chuckled.

"Wow, being a police officer sounds so cool. He's like a real hero! Does he have a police doggy?"

"Well, there are some dogs at the station that are search and rescue dogs. Sometimes the officers go around to local schools and bring the dogs." Stella smiled as she checked his pulse. "Well, your heart rate sounds great. That means you are a healthy, growing boy."

"Thank you, Stella." Asher grinned.

"Oh, I almost forgot—I have something for you." Stella reached into her pocket. "I give them to all of my pediatrics patients." She pulled out a bright yellow smiley-face sticker and handed it to him.

"Thanks!" Asher beamed. "I'll keep this forever!"

"You're welcome." Stella's smile deepened as she stood. "I'll see you soon, okay?"

"Bye, Stella."

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

At 8:30 a.m., Stella and April sat at the nurses' station, charting vitals and progress notes alongside Lori and Kara. The steady rhythm of the unit was interrupted when the trauma alarm blared at the ambulance bay doors. Normally, it was just another case rolling in. This time was different.

"Stella! April! You're with Dr. Halstead in Trauma Two!" the charge nurse, Maggie, called.

Stella's chest tightened. Her pulse spiked, dread washing over her like ice water. She turned just in time to see the gurney pushed through the trauma doors—her heart nearly stopped when she recognized her brother.

"Seventeen-year-old male, BP 90 over 70. Fell down a flight of stairs at West Valley High. Possible cervical spine injury, decreased sensation in lower extremities," the paramedic reported as they rushed him inside.

"Page radiology, STAT," Dr. Halstead ordered, steering the gurney into the room. "On my count—transfer. One, two, three."

They slid August onto the trauma bed, immediately stabilizing his airway, fitting a rigid cervical collar around his neck, and connecting him to cardiac monitoring.

"No. Oh my God." Stella's voice cracked as tears welled in her eyes.

"Stella, is everything all right?" Sharon asked gently from the doorway.

"Mrs. Goodwin, I apologize, but that's my brother. I can't—" Her voice broke, grief strangling her words.

Sharon placed a steadying hand on her shoulder. "There's no need to explain. Your father and grandmother have already been notified. I'll have April and Dr. Halstead take over the case."

"Thank you, Mrs. Goodwin." Stella managed a weak smile, her eyes blurred with tears.

Minutes later, radiology rolled in with the portable X-ray. The image illuminated on the screen—a near fracture along August's thoracic spine. The words "unstable injury" murmured between physicians. Stella couldn't bear to stand there another second.

She stepped into the waiting room, her composure unraveling.

"Stella Blue?"

Her father's voice cut through the sterile hospital air. Nathan stood there, rugged and weary, Janette at his side. The moment Stella saw him, she broke.

"Daddy." Her voice was a whisper before she rushed into his arms. She buried her face against his chest, sobbing quietly.

"I'm here." Nathan's voice was low, steady—the kind of strength that carried his grief beneath the surface, but never let it falter for his kids. He held her tight, one big hand on the back of her head as Janette gently rubbed Stella's back, anchoring her in the storm.

   ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

"Stella, you've seen your fair share of these in nursing school to know the next twenty-four hours are critical," Dr. Halstead said firmly, but with compassion.

"But he's gonna pull through, right?" Johnny asked, his voice sharp with urgency, like he could muscle the answer out of him.

"We're doing everything we can," Dr. Halstead reassured. He gave the family a nod before stepping away to check on the monitors.

Stella crumpled. Her sobs tore out of her as Nathan pulled her into his arms, wrapping her against his chest while Janette embraced her from behind, forming a wall of protection around her.

"I promised Mom I would always protect him," Stella choked out.

"It's not your fault, Stella Blue," Nathan murmured, his voice low and weighted, rough with the grief he carried but steady for her sake. He pressed a hand to the back of her head like he had when she was little.

"I'm so sorry," Johnny said, his voice cracking.

Nathan's eyes snapped up, burning with fury. "Sorry? Sorry?" His voice rose, gravel-hard, anger cutting through his grief. "Before my son met you, he was a good kid. He avoided fights. Now look what you've done!"

Johnny stiffened, jaw tight, but the words hit deep. He tried to hold on to his Cobra Kai bite, but his voice broke as his eyes landed on Stella—shaking in her father's arms, face streaked with tears. "Nathan, I never wanted this. Not for him. Not for her."

"Enough!" Janette stepped between them, her hands raised, her voice firm but trembling with her own pain. "Nathan, calm down. Please. This is Stella's place of work."

Nathan scoffed, bitter and guttural, but he didn't press further. Instead, he gathered Stella closer, shielding her as he led her away from Johnny. She looked back just once, eyes full of heartbreak, and Johnny felt his chest cave in. Janette shook her head, disappointed, before following them out.

Johnny stayed behind in the hallway, fists clenching and unclenching, his usual fire sputtering against the helplessness in his chest. He wanted to punch something, scream, anything—but all he could see was Stella's face when she broke.

Meanwhile, in another trauma bay, Dr. Noah Sexton finished suturing Sam's forearm. Her face was bruised, her eyes red and swollen from crying. Daniel sat at her side, gently brushing a strand of hair from her face.

"It's all right now, okay? Everything's gonna be all right," Daniel whispered, trying to soothe her as Noah quietly exited.

"I'm gonna make sure this girl gets expelled," Amanda said sharply, her arms folded, fury simmering just beneath the surface.

"I don't care about Tory. I just want August to be okay," Sam said, her voice breaking as fresh tears spilled.

Daniel's jaw tightened. "I can't believe Robby would do that."

Sam shook her head, guilt pouring out of her in waves. "It's all my fault."

"What? No. No. No, don't say that, Sam." Daniel pulled her close, wrapping her against him. "Don't put that on yourself."

In the hospital lobby, Johnny was falling apart. His fists clenched at his sides, but the tears threatened anyway as he stared through the glass at the trauma team working on August. Monitors beeped. Doctors shouted orders. August lay pale and still. Johnny pressed his palm against the window like he could will him back. For once, the fighter in him had nothing left. He was completely and utterly lost.

Unable to stand it, he stumbled toward the elevator. The doors slid open to reveal Daniel inside. Their eyes met—brief, tense, no words. Johnny stepped in, the silence between them heavier than steel. The ride down to the first floor felt endless.

Outside, Johnny climbed into his Challenger and drove. He didn't think, didn't plan—just let the engine roar until the only place that made sense appeared: the Cobra Kai dojo.

He parked, stalked to the door, and shoved the key into the lock. It turned too easily. His gut tightened. Inside, the mats were empty, lights low. The place felt wrong.

A sound echoed from the back. Not a sound—chanting. Johnny followed it, jaw tight, until he reached the back room. There, under the dim light, kids in Cobra Kai gis snapped their punches in unison. And standing before them, like a vulture over fresh kill, was John Kreese.

Kreese's cold eyes lifted. "Class, we have a visitor."

The students froze, fists dropping to their sides, then snapped their hands behind their backs in perfect formation. Every pair of eyes turned to Johnny.

Johnny's voice cut the silence like broken glass. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Kreese's smirk spread slow and smug. "What does it look like? I'm teaching my students."

"Your students?" Johnny's voice rose, hard and disbelieving.

"You let them down when they needed you the most. Somebody needed to remind them what it takes to win."

Johnny's glare flicked to the kids, then back to Kreese. "After everything I did for you?" His words carried more pain than rage.

Hawk stepped forward, eyes burning. "August is in the hospital because of you. He showed mercy to Robby Keene because of you. If he dies, that's on you."

Johnny flinched. He didn't let it show, but the words cut deep.

Kreese tilted his head, voice dripping venom. "I did warn you about this. I told you not to show weakness."

Johnny's fists balled. "Get out."

Kreese chuckled low, taking a slow step closer. "This is my dojo." He smiled, smug, savoring the look on Johnny's face. "Oh, I forgot to tell you—while you were out of town, I had a little talk with the landlord. Turns out he doesn't like you much. Problem with those handshake deals? No guarantees."

"You can't do this," Johnny said, his voice shaking between fury and disbelief.

Kreese moved past the line of students, stopping inches from him. His presence was suffocating, a shadow Johnny thought he'd escaped. "Of course I can. I founded Cobra Kai. It belongs to me. It always has and it always will. I will never let my students lose—even if they have to learn the hard way." His sinister smile widened. "One day, you'll thank me for this, Johnny."

Johnny's eyes darted around the room—the kids he trained, the kids he believed in—now glaring back at him like he was the enemy. His chest tightened, rage and heartbreak twisting together.

"This was a mistake," he muttered. His voice cracked as he turned away. "You want Cobra Kai? It's yours." Defeat weighed heavy in every step as he walked out.

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

The Challenger tore down the coastal highway until the asphalt gave way to sand. Johnny killed the engine, grabbed the whiskey from the seat, and stumbled onto the beach.

He dropped into the sand, waves crashing like echoes of his thoughts. He drank, staring into the black horizon, haunted by memories of August.

"I wore this when I was training for my first tournament back in '81. I want you to have it."

"Tell me you're the man?"

"I'm the man!"

"One of the best things in my life, has been teaching you. I'll always be on your side and I'll always have your best interests at heart."

His eyes burned. But then another memory hit him—the one that cut deeper than all the rest. Stella.

He saw her again, the way she looked at him that night. Her hand small in his. Her body close.

"I like the feel of your hand in mine," he'd said softly.

"I like it too. Rule number one—focus on me, okay?"

Johnny had nodded, clumsy at first, stepping on her feet. "Damn it. Sorry, princess."

"It's alright." Stella had smiled up at him, her eyes full of light. "When you fight, do you look down?"

"No."

"No. You look into their eyes. Just look at me."

They had moved together perfectly, his forehead pressed against hers, every wall in him crumbling. I love you, Stella, he'd thought.

He never said it out loud. And now, maybe he never would.

Johnny shot to his feet, anger and grief colliding. He hurled the whiskey bottle against his car—it shattered, glass spraying across the sand. His phone rang, but he ripped it from his pocket and threw it into the ocean. Keys followed, sailing into the Challenger's front seat.

He didn't look back. Didn't care where he went. He just walked, the night swallowing him whole. For the first time in years, Johnny Lawrence had no fight left in him.

End of Season 2