Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. Any similarities to any events or to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. All players are over the age of eighteen unless otherwise stated. Since my last romance received such a positive response, I figured that I would try another one. Trigger warning: accidental death. Please do not go any further if this bothers you. Constructive criticism and comments welcome at the end. Enjoy.
I can smell smoke and burning flesh. It will burn into my memory for years to come. When I open my eyes, I see a million stars in the night sky. My last sight on Earth will be a peaceful one. I look down at my abdomen. I see the huge portion of metal bar poking through my blouse. For some reason, it doesn't hurt. It's not even bleeding that much, but I dare not move. I feel a burning sensation in my hip and pelvis.
"Ethan?" I cough. "Ethan, where are you?"
I manage to turn my head. I see the man I love lying face down. He isn't moving.
"Ethan! Baby, wake up! I need help! Please, wake up! Ethan..."
Above me I hear helicopters whirring and sirens. I hear screams and shouts. Shut up! All of you, just shut up! Just let me die in peace!
"Ma'am, can you hear me? Ma'am?"
A dark shadow looms over me. I can't tell if it's a man or a woman.
"Hey! I've got a live one here!" From the voice, I think it's a man.
"Ethan," I moan.
"Miss, I'm going to put some oxygen on your face. It will help you breathe better."
He straps something rubbery over my mouth and nose. I hear a whoosh of air.
"My fiancée..."
"We'll find him, don't worry. Right now, we have to get you out of here and to a hospital!"
"No...I'm not leaving...without...mmmm!" I moan. The pain in my abdomen is finally starting.
"You're going to hear a loud buzzing sound. My buddy is going to cut that pole so we can move you. It won't last long. Just hold still, okay?"
A motorcycle roars to life. I see orange sparks flying through the air. Something is holding my neck still. I can't move! Ethan...Ethan...
"I've got it!"
"Let's get her on a stretcher! She's already lost a lot of blood."
"Ethan...Ethan...."
My eyes flutter closed, and the noise stops.
"Miss Brooks? Brianna? Can you open your eyes for us?"
I slowly open my eyes. An older man with a balding head and glasses, a graying goatee, and wearing a white lab coat and green scrubs leans over me.
"Welcome back. I'm Dr. Stone. I'll be taking care of you while you're staying with us."
"Doctor? Am I...in the hospital?"
"Yes. You're a very lucky young woman, Miss Brooks. You must have a guardian angel watching over you. You're in North Chicagoland Memorial."
"Wait..." I try to clear my head. Everything is so fuzzy! I look down at my arm. I see that one hand is bandaged and the other has an IV taped to it. I have another IV in my arm. I reach down and touch my left hip.
"Ugh!" I groan.
"Easy, easy now. Your pelvis was shattered in the crash. Your left femur was also fractured, as well as a few of your ribs. I also had to remove your spleen and part of your liver, but the latter will regenerate in a year's time. I am sure that with physical therapy, you'll be up and walking in just a few weeks. Are you in a lot of pain?"
"Just when I move."
"I'll have the nurse give you something. Are you allergic to any medications?"
"No, none that I know of."
"Good. I'll write orders for some morphine and Toradol."
"Thank you."
I close my eyes.
"Try to get some rest. I'll come back and see you in the morning."
"Thank you, Doctor."
The nurse gives me some medicine through my IV. Whatever it is works, because in no time, I am asleep again.
When I open my eyes, I see two men that I've never seen before. One of them is a police officer, and the other one is dressed in a navy polo and some dark pants. It looks like he has a fireman's logo on his left chest.
"Brianna Brooks?"
"Yes?"
"I'm Sergeant Carl Murphy, Chicago Police Department. This is Captain Jackson, of the local fire department. We were on the scene of the train derailment."
"Ethan. Do you have any information about my fiancée, Ethan Parker?"
The two men look at each other, then at me.
"Miss Brooks," Sergeant Murphy clears his throat, "there's really no easy way to say this."
"No! Please! Please don't!"
"Your fiancée passed away. It appears as though he was killed on impact. There was nothing that could be done for him. I am so, so sorry."
"NO! You're lying! Why are you lying to me? Ethan can't be dead! We're getting married in two months!"
"Miss Brooks, this is breaking my heart to have to tell you, but I promise I am telling you the truth."
"Get out! You horrible man! Why are you lying to me? Why? Why?"
The tears won't stop. They just keep coming.
"Miss Brooks, my team and I did everything we could," the fireman says.
"YOU LET HIM DIE! ETHAN!"
Nurses come running into my room.
I see Dr. Stone whispering something to one of them. She leaves and comes back with a bottle and a syringe. He draws up the medicine and scrubs the port on one of my IVs.
"This is just something to help you relax, Miss Brooks! You're hysterical right now."
"I don't want that. I want my Ethan! E..."
Whatever he gives me is much stronger than morphine. It puts me into such a deep sleep that I don't dream. I drift in and out of consciousness for hours, maybe days, I'm not sure. I'm aware of people touching me, turning me over, rubbing my skin, but I don't care to respond.
Finally, the fog lifts. I see someone sitting beside my bed. It's that fireman! He has a bouquet of flowers in his lap.
"You," I say groggily.
"Miss Brooks, I...I hope I'm not intruding. I just wanted to give you these and tell you again how sorry I am about your fiancée. I...I know this must be terribly difficult for you. I understand how you feel."
"No, you don't! You let him die!"
"Miss Brooks," he takes a breath, "Ethan didn't have a pulse when we found him. I won't go into the gory details of his injuries, but suffice to say that I'm sure he didn't suffer when he passed."
"It's my fault," I moan.
"Sorry?"
"It's my fault he's dead!"
"Miss Brooks, that's impossible. The train hit fatigued tracks. There was no way to prevent the accident. It's just one of those awful things. I'm just glad that it happened close to the city limits, otherwise, it would've been much harder to get rescue teams to the scene."
"He switched seats with me."
"What?"
"I wanted to look out the window as we got closer to the city, so he gave me his seat," I sob. "Then we heard this awful sound and the lights flickered and went off, and.."
I start sobbing.
"Hey, it's okay. It's alright to cry."
Captain Jackson squeezes my hand. I turn to look at him. He's not a bad looking man at all. His hair is cut close to his head. His goatee is black with a little tinge of gray here and there. His skin is the color of caramel. His dark eyes seem to smile at me.
"It's alright," he says, "tears are cleansing." He takes some tissue and dabs my eyes.
"His parents are going to hate me! If I hadn't wanted the window seat, maybe he'd still bed here!"
"But then what about you? Doesn't your life matter? Aren't you precious to someone?"
"Yes."
"Listen, I've seen a lot of tragedies. I was in the Marines for nine years before I became a firefighter. I've seen people die before my eyes, some of whom were precious to me, but I still had to keep going. You may not understand now, but in time, you will see why you survived the crash."
His thumb gently brushes my eye.
"I'm here if you need someone to talk to. I've been told that I'm a great listener."
"You are," I say softly. "I'm sorry I blamed you."
"No apologies necessary. You're hurting and angry. I have a pretty thick skin. Believe me, I can take it."
He reaches into his pocket and gives me a business card.
"Anytime you need to talk or need a shoulder to cry on, call me. Even if it's three o'clock in the morning, call me."
"Why are you being so nice? I was awful to you."
"Like I said, I've been where you are, Miss Brooks."
"Brianna."
"What?"
"You can call me Brianna. I don't mind."
"Then I want you to call me Craig. Only my underlings call me Captain."
"Underlings?" I smirk.
"Ah, I got a bit of a smile. You get some rest. I'll come back and see you in a couple of days."
"Couple of days?"
"I have a forty eight hour shift coming up. I'll be checking on you."
He gently strokes my cheek.
"You're much prettier when you smile."
He flashes a smile at me, and then he's gone.
The next few days are difficult, as I am visited by my own parents who fly in to be with me, and Ethan's parents. It's a very tearful reunion. I don't tell them that we switched seats. I just can't. After a lot of discussion, his folks decide that he will be cremated and have a memorial service once I'm well enough to attend.
On top of that, I start physical therapy. In actuality, I am anxious to get out of the bed. I can't stand bedpans. The therapist who works with me, Jack, has such a deep Southern accent that he actually says, "c'mon ya'll," but he is a very kind man.
"C'mon there Miss Brianna, you said you wanna sit on the commode in the bathroom, you gotta walk to the door n'back!"
It's cute how he calls me "Miss Brianna!"
I feel like an old woman with the walker they give me, but I push myself to do what he asks me. We practice getting up and out of the bed and walking to the door of my room and back. By the time I'm done, I am sweating, like I just ran a 5K!
"You did real good, Miss Brianna. I'll see you tomorrow, same time, same channel!"
"Thanks, Jack," I say as I sip my ice water. I'm sitting in a chair, which feels good. As soon as he leaves, my nurse, Daisy, comes into the room with some roses.
"These are for you, Miss Brooks."
"Me?"
She sets them on my bedside table.
"These smell heavenly," I tell her. I pull the card that's tucked inside.
"These roses pale in comparison to your beauty. I'll be by to see you later today. -Craig."
"Does someone have a secret admirer?"
"Just a friend," I say softly.
"Is it that cute fireman that saved your life?"
"How did you know?"
She smiles.
"I have my ways. He's a good looking man. If I wasn't married, I'd snatch him up myself."
"Thanks, but I'm in mourning right now."
"Aw, Miss Brooks, it's okay to be sad and miss your man, but don't stay there. I'm sure he'd want you to be happy and go on with your life. Just think about it."
She refills my water pitcher and leaves. I sit there staring at the flowers. I'm sure that Craig is just being nice. I'm sure a man like him has a girlfriend. Besides, another man is the last thing on my mind.
That evening, after dinner, I'm mindlessly scrolling through the TV channels when I hear,
"Good evening, Brianna."
I sit up.
Craig is standing in my doorway. He isn't wearing his uniform. He looks like he stepped off the pages of some major men's magazine in his cable knit dark sweater and blue jeans.
"Craig! Uh, good evening," I stammer. Why am I suddenly so nervous? He's just a man!
A handsome man, a man who saved my life.
"You look nice," I say. I'm glad that my mom brought me some real nightgowns and my black flowered kimono robe to wear. It's so much better than those awful hospital gowns.
"May I come in?"
