Phoenix

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?"

"Oh. Yes! I...I'm just..."

I hurriedly pull my hair forward so it partially covers my face, which is full of bruises and my cheeks are still puffy from the crash.

"Why are you trying to hide from me?"

Craig approaches me slowly. He gently takes my wrist. "You don't have to do that. You're already lovely."

"I'm not looking my best these days."

"You look fine to me."

He sits across from me.

"How are you feeling?"

"Better. I'm able to get up, but I need this," I gesture to the walker.

"That's awesome. Did the doctor say how long they will keep you?"

"A few more days, then they're moving me to rehab. I'll be around people twice my age," I sigh.

"But you'll be getting better. I'm sure you'll be able to walk out of this hospital."

"Yeah, thanks to you. I...I never said thank you for saving me."

He shrugs.

"It's my job."

"Oh really? Do you always visit the people you rescue in the hospital?"

"Sometimes."

"What made me so special?"

Craig leans forward.

"Honestly, I'm not sure, but something is drawing me to you."

My face flushes.

"And does your wife know you're here?"

"What wife?"

"You're not married?"

Craig chuckles.

"Afraid I'm a bachelor, my dear."

"Your girlfriend?"

He shakes his head.

"I had one for a long time."

"You all broke up?"

"Yeah. She uh," he clears his throat, "she wanted me to quit my job."

"Why?"

"Because it's dangerous work. Every time we go out, there's a chance that we might not come back. I tried to tell her that life has no guarantees, and that lots of people work as firefighters and retire without any significant injury. It was a huge bone of contention between us. She wanted me to work an office job. That's totally not me. She called me an Adrenalin junkie, and a few other things."

"I'm so sorry."

"A few months ago, she decided that she would rather have a rich hedge fund manager rather than me."

"That's so unfair! If she loved you, then she should have supported you no matter what!" I pause. "I'm sorry. That's totally none of my business."

"No, you're right. You have a right to your opinion. You seem like an intelligent woman."

He touches my hand.

"That's a beautiful ring."

"Oh, I didn't realize I was still wearing it. I guess I should take it off."

"You don't have to on my account."

"I should. Ethan is...gone."

"Was he a nice man?"

"He was. He was the kindest, most sensitive person I knew. He would give you his last dollar and never ask for it back."

"How did you two meet?"

"He was a teacher at the school where I work. Well, we worked in different programs. We worked at a school for special needs' children. I work with the kids who have severe behavior problems. I'm," I swallow, "a nurse."

"Nurse Brooks, eh?" He chuckles.

"Yes. Ethan worked with kids with autism. He loved his job. The parents loved him. We kept our relationship discreet. We had to."

"Gossip?"

"Yeah. We were going to tell everyone before the wedding. Before...the accident."

I feel tears spring to my eyes. I start to blink.

"I'm sorry."

"No, it's okay. I understand."

He pats my hand. "Thank you for sharing with me." He eyes my walker. "Feel up to a walk?"

"Where?"

"Down the hall and back."

"Aren't you afraid that I'll fall?"

"I'm a fireman. It's my job to help people. Would you believe that I've lifted men twice your size?"

"You have?"

He takes my hand and slides his arm behind my back. He sets the walker in front of me. I grab the handles and get my balance.

"Yes. Three times your size in fact. I have many stories."

"I...I'd like to hear them."

I take a step forward. "This might sound weird, but ever since I was a little girl, I've loved listening to people tell stories."

Craig takes my arm and opens the door. We step into the hallway.

"If you get dizzy, let me know. We'll stop, okay?"

"Sure."

He keeps his hand on my back the whole time.

"I went into the Marines when I was eighteen."

"Right out of high school?"

"Yes. I wasn't sure if I wanted to go to college, so I enlisted. I've had the chance to travel all over Europe and Asia."

"What was your specialty?"

"I was a medic."

"Of course."

We both laugh.

"The sight of blood doesn't bother you?"

"Nah. I've always been fascinated by how the human body works. It's such a perfect machine, designed to run and heal itself, but one little thing can throw the whole mechanism off."

"I know."

We stop by the window at the end of the hallway. Outside the city lights twinkle and sparkle.

"Do you fight a lot of fires, Craig?"

"Mmmm, these days, our work is more involved in rescue than actual firefights, but I have been in some fires, yes."

"Ones where the people didn't make it?"

"Sadly, yes. The worst is when children are involved. Sometimes we find them under beds, in closets, suffocated to death. The common misconception is that the flames are what kill people, but it's the smoke."

"Life is full of so many ugly things." I lean against the glass. "Some of the kids I work with come from such terrible situations. Sometimes it's hard to look past the behaviors and see the cause of them. Some of those kids are so angry, so hurt, like..."

"You?"

I nod, not trusting my voice.

"Come on," he says gently, "let me take you back."

Craig keeps his hand on my back the entire time we walk. When we get back to my room, he helps me back into bed. I look at Craig, and suddenly, I burst into tears. He doesn't say a word.

He just holds me and lets me cry. His chest feels solid under my face. He smells so clean and fresh. I don't knew why I would've expected to smell smoke on him. He obviously cares about his hygiene.

I cry for what I've lost, for Ethan, for the dreams that died in that wreck. I cry until I am exhausted beyond belief. Craig gently eases me back onto my pillows and pulls the blankets around me. He looks at me and to my surprise, he kisses my forehead.

"Don't ever be afraid to cry on me, Brianna. I'll see you tomorrow."

He starts for the door.

"Craig, wait!"

"Yes?"

"Please, don't go just yet."

He comes back to the bedside.

"Is something wrong?"

I shake my head.

"No. I..." I reach for his hand. He takes my hand in his own. "I wanted to say thank you."

"For what?"

"Being here, saving my life, listening to me, letting me cry all over your sweater."

He smiles.

"It's wash and wear. Besides, I don't mind having a pretty girl rain on me."

"I'm not feeling very pretty right now."

"You might not feel it, but you are a pretty girl, inside and outside."

"Are you flirting with me?"

"It's not obvious?"

"Craig, I..."

He holds up his hand to stop me.

"Miss Brooks, I know you've just been through a great tragedy. You lost someone that you loved and cared about for a long time. You probably haven't thought about starting over, it someday, you will. Right now, I just want to be your friend. I know anything more is asking too much."

"But why me?"

He smiles. Wow, he has a beautiful smile.

"We need each other, Brianna."

"We do?"

He nods. "In time, it will become evident why. Goodnight, Miss Brooks."

He gently kisses my cheek.

"Goodnight, Captain Jackson."

I lay awake a long time that night.

Who is this man, Captain Craig Jackson? Where did he come from? Why was he the one that found me?

I have so many questions and no answers.

The next morning, they send me for a CT of my pelvis and hip. Everything is healing well, but it will still be weeks before I can walk without some kind of aid. I tell Jack how far I walked the night before. He's proud of me.

"You're making great progress, Miss Brianna. Don't go pushing yourself too hard now. We'll be doing that in rehab."

My parents come to pack me up for the move to the rehab unit. One of the aides pushes me down in a wheelchair. I meet most of the staff and learn the expectations of being their patient now. I have to be up, showered and dressed and ready for breakfast at eight, do therapy until lunch, and then two more hours of therapy until dinner. I'm sure after all of that that I'll be worn out! They tell me that my first night I'll be allowed to rest and adjust.

That night, I can't sleep. Suddenly, I feel someone sitting on my bed.

"Craig?"

I reach over and switch on my reading lamp. I gasp.

"Ethan! Oh my God! H...how?"