Bobby sat on the edge of Joanne's bed, holding her hand in his and trying to absorb the situation. Somehow none of it felt real, but he knew he had to try to process it all. It was real. This was happening. He had to try to prepare himself. Critical condition, the nurse had said. If she wakes up, the nurse had said. And then…Larry. Joanne's condition was bad enough, but the nurse had said that his injuries were 'more extensive'. If Joanne's condition was critical, what did that mean for Larry's chances?

He looked up at the sound of someone entering the room. It was the same nurse who'd brought him to Joanne, and her expression was grim. Bobby stood, his heart pounding wildly.

"Larry?"

"I'm very sorry, sir. Mr. Wittman passed away."

Bobby sat back down on the bed, shock making him numb. Larry was dead. His friend, Larry. Joanne's husband.

Oh god. Joanne. He looked down at her still form. What would she do? When she woke up – if she woke up, the nurse had said – she would have to hear that. She'd be devastated. Despite how she behaved at times, despite whatever she said, Bobby knew just how much she loved her husband. In the condition she was in, the shock alone could probably kill her. He almost hoped she wouldn'twake up, wouldn't have to hear-

He pushed that thought aside forcefully. He wouldn't – couldn't – think like that. He couldn't stand the thought of losing her as well. Joanne was strong. She would survive, somehow, surely. She had to survive.

Bobby stayed at Joanne's side that night. He couldn't leave her, not until he knew for sure whether she was going to be alright. After a couple hours, the nurse who'd spoken to him brought him a chair, something more comfortable than the ones in the waiting room, so that he might be able to sleep for a little while. He was grateful, but he didn't want to sleep. He wanted to be there with her, in case something – anything – happened.

But despite his best efforts, the worry and exhaustion managed to get the better of him and he dozed off for a couple hours. When he woke it took him a moment to remember where he was and what had happened. He went to sit on the edge of the bed again, his heart aching.

"Come on, Joanne. Please be alright."

He wasn't sure how long he stayed there at her side, holding her hand. And then all of a sudden, something changed. The beeping from the machines monitoring her condition became more urgent, and a nurse rushed in to check on her.

"What's happening?"

She didn't answer him, just shouted something out the door of the room, and more people rushed in. Someone pulled him away from Joanne's side so the doctors could reach her, and he was pushed out of the room. He stood outside, paralyzed by fear.

Joanne was rushed back into surgery. Bobby collapsed into a chair and prayed for her to be alright. He wasn't sure how long it was before the doctor approached him to tell him that Joanne was out of surgery again. He explained everything very coolly and technically – something about internal bleeding and trauma from the accident. Bobby listened to what he said, nodding but only barely hearing and not really understanding.

"Is it…will she be alright?"

The doctor looked at him seriously. "She seems to be recovering from the surgery, but her condition is still critical, and the accident was severe. Given the scope of her injuries…you should prepare yourself for the possibility that she might not wake."

Bobby closed his eyes as he tried to absorb what the doctor had just said.

"Can I see her?"

The doctor nodded and took him to see her. She looked so small and fragile, he was almost afraid to touch her. He sat down on the edge of her bed and took her hand in his, the doctor's words echoing in his head: You should prepare yourself for the possibility that she might not wake.

Bobby couldn't accept that. He'd already lost one of his friends. He couldn't lose her, too. All of his friends meant the world to him, but Joanne? She was…different. Special. There was no one else like her. The idea of losing her, of never again hearing her cutting remarks, never again spending an evening listening to her drunken tales, never again seeing those flashing brown eyes and that teasing smile…that would be too much. He had to believe that she would be alright, that she would wake up.

Bobby practically lived at the hospital after that. He spent as much time as he could there, falling asleep in the chair beside Joanne's bed each night. He wanted to be there when she woke. If she woke. He had already decided that he would be the one to tell her about Larry. He didn't want to, but it would be better than letting her find out from the doctors.

Her condition was monitored closely. Eventually she was deemed stable enough to be taken off the ventilator and moved out of the ICU, but she still showed no signs of waking. The doctors said things about head trauma and vegetative states, but Bobby wouldn't listen to them. He continued to sit by her bed, holding her hand, begging her to wake up.

However as the days passed without any change in Joanne's condition, without any sign that she might wake, it became harder and harder to keep faith, and he finally began to accept the truth – Larry was dead, and Joanne was in a coma. But even as it slowly sank in that she might never wake, he stayed by her side. He'd heard that people in comas could still hear, so he spoke to her sometimes. He begged her to wake up. When he sat beside her in silence, he'd find himself praying that she'd be alright.

Nine days after the accident, nine days with no sign that she would wake, and he was almost ready to give up hope. Nevertheless, he stayed at her side, holding her hand.

"I don't know if you can hear me, Joanne, but please, wake up." There was no answer. After nine days, he knew better than to expect one. Nevertheless, he felt tears sting his eyes, from the combination of grief and exhaustion.

"Don't give up…" His voice cracked a little, and he brought his hand to his face, trying to fight off the tears.

"…Robby?"

He looked up, startled. Her voice had been so soft, barely more than a whisper, that he almost thought he'd imagined it.

Her eyes were open. Relief unlike anything he'd ever felt washed over him. He smiled at her, still not quite daring to believe that this was happening, that she had really woken.

"Joanne," he breathed as he moved to sit on the edge of her bed, "You're awake."

He wanted to hug her, to pull her into his arms and hold her tight, but he knew that he couldn't – she was still too delicate, her body still too broken. He pressed a kiss to her forehead instead. He saw her eyes move around the room before focusing on his face again.

"…How long?" Her voice was still weak. She was still weak.

"Nine days. You've been unconscious for nine days," he said, his smile fading. "Joanne, do you remember what happened?"

He watched her carefully as she looked away from him, frowning slightly. She was trying to remember. Then her eyes went wide, and she looked up at him.

"We were hit, weren't we?" She tried to sit up. He put a hand on her shoulder, stopping her from moving.

"That's right." He found himself unable to say anything more. He couldn't find the courage to tell her. He looked down at his lap.

"Robby…where's Larry?"

He dragged his gaze back up to meet hers. She was looking at him, worried but not yet comprehending his reluctance to speak. He steeled himself, knowing that he had to be strong. Knowing that she would need him.

"Joanne, I'm so sorry…"

"Go. I want to be alone."

Robby said something about coming back the next day and kissed her on the cheek, but Joanne didn't really hear him. She was trying to process what he'd just told her. Larry was dead. Her husband was dead. He was gone. She couldn't move, couldn't think, couldn't breathe. She was numb with the shock of it. All she could do was lie there as her heart splintered into pieces.

At some point, she realized there were tears falling, but she didn't move to wipe them away.

She wasn't sure how long she stayed like that, but eventually the doctor came in to check up on her. She quickly wiped away the tears and did her best to pull herself together. The doctor spoke to her briefly, explaining the state of her injuries and asking a few questions, but she didn't take in much and only said as much as was needed. He gave her a quick once-over, checking her vital signs and her injuries and the surgical incisions. They must have put her on some pretty strong painkillers – she hadn't even noticed half of her injuries. Either that or the pain of her broken heart was blocking out everything else.

After the doctor left, she stayed lying there, staring up at the ceiling. After a little while, exhaustion got the better of her, and her eyes drifted shut as she fell into a dreamless sleep.

A/N: Thank you for reading. As for Impact, I'm sorry about the delay in updating, I just realized that I had to make some large edits that affect much of the continuity of the as-yet-unposted chapters, so I want to make sure that I have all that sorted and everything is correct. I also will be working on two shows simultaneously this spring, so that might eat into my time somewhat. But I will finish it, I promise!