Chapter - 7



~*~

As the sedation medication finally completely wore off, Lt. Johnson found himself slowly waking up in a different room. He was now out of the ICU, and in the step down unit of the burn unit. His vision focused on his daughter, who was sitting right next to him on the edge of the bed, no longer covered in sterile hospital gear, staring out the window.

"Bridge...." his voice then turned into an uncomfortable groan.

"Dad?" she asked quickly turning to him.

He groaned again, as the pain that was circulating throughout his body became more apparent. Knowing that he was going to be in agony when he woke up completely, Bridgette was unsure about what to say to him. Tears began to flood his eyes, showing the clear misery he was suffering. He reached out and grabbed the side of Bridgettes shirt with his garmented left hand.

"Dad, it's ok." She said, gently sliding her hand ontop of his and holding it, while she detatched it from her shirt. As tears came down his cheeks, he gave her a desperate look asking her to do something, make it stop hurting, anything to get rid of this torment, "Dad, I know it hurts, they can't give you any more medicine right now ok? I know it hurts but you gotta try to relax."

Bridgette tried not to wince, while he continued to squeeze her hand so tight that her finger tips were now white. She had no idea how he could possibly be squeezing that hard with his hand. But then she realized that he had to have been in that much pain. He opened his mouth, as if he was going to say something, but all that came out was a cry of pure misery.

She could see that he was getting more upset and worked up which wasn't helping at all. Still holding his hand, she leaned up so that she was eye level with him and spoke firmly, "Dad look at me. You have to calm down. If you get upset it's gonna be worse. Relax, PLEASE."



"Goddd," he said, gritting his teeth and squeezing his eyes shut. He let out another groan, before taking a few deep breaths and opening his eyes again. After a few more minutes, his breathing slowed and he released the death grip that he had on his daughters hand. Bridgette let out a sigh of relief that he was starting to relax, but it was cut short. The look that flashed in his eye to her, asked her the question that she was afraid of.

"Taylor.....did Taylor?" he strained, unable to consider the thought let alone finish his sentence.

Bridgette sat there, her mouth opened and closed but no words came out. The look on her face told him everything he needed to know. Closing his eyes for a second he could still see her face, it was the very last thing he did see clearly before he was on the ground with Doc and Sully overtop of him. He opened his eyes and looked to his daughter for answers, any answers she could give him.

"Dad I don't know. DK's outside, do you want me to get him? He can tell you what happened." Bridgette suggested softly.

"Yeah." he replied fighting back tears.

"Ok." she said, quietly standing up and leaving the room. She returned a few minutes later with DK, who knew ahead of time that he was going to be the one that would explain to Lieu the circumstances of the accident. He also knew it was going to be one of the hardest things he had ever done in his life.

Standing next to the bed where Bridgette sat next to her father, he looked at his Lieutenant, "How you feeling boss?"

"Been better." he moaned uncomfortably, "Spit it out DK"

DK sighed, trying to get his words out correctly, he eventually did and slowly painted the picture of the fatal explosion from 3 weeks ago. Bridgette had heard the details over and over again. This time she blocked them out, until her dad grasped her hand tightly while he let DK's words sink into his head.

Lieu let out a breath, "Beth?"



Bridgette sighed, "Some days she's ok, somedays she's not. Mom goes and sees her every day."

Lieu looked around the room for a minute before forcing out his next sentence, "I should have gotten her off that car."

"Boss it's not your fault, she didn't follow orders." DK stated.

Although Bridgette wasn't there, she had heard Walsh say it over and over again, so she quietly repeated what she knew, "She didn't listen Daddy, it's not your fault."

Lieu looked to his daughter, "I heard you.......talking about it. I was hoping it wasn't true."

Bridgette swallowed hard, and looked down trying not to cry, "I'm sorry."

DK cut in, "You can't worry about it anymore, there's nothing any of us can do about it. You gotta worry about getting yourself better."

Bridgette nodded, "He's right."

Lieu closed his eyes for a few minutes while Bridgette gently rubbed his garmented hand with her thumb. Attempting to clear his throat he asked, "So what's wrong with me?"

Bridgette put her head down for a minute trying to decide how to word her next thought, while DK stood silently with his arms folded. Opening her mouth, somehow the words found their way out, "Dad, you have 3rd degree burns on the top of your chest, on your right arm and both of your hands. The side of your face is flash burned, and your right leg is broken. They did some procedures while they had you sedated, but they've still got more to do."

He swallowed hard, "How long was I out?"

"3 weeks." she answered.

"3......weeks?" he asked.



"Yeah." Bridgette nodded quietly.

He paused for a minute before he asked, "So....what's next?" although he knew full well what his future held. He had seen many fellow firefighters go through the same exact thing. Every time he would visit one of them, he would always ask God not to ever let it happen to him, although he knew it was always a severe possibility.

Bridgette sighed deeply, "Well, they finished the skin grafts and stuff on your arm and your hands. They still have to do your chest, and do a face scan. When they're done and there's no infection, they put the pressure garments on them," she gently lifted his left hand so he could the garment that covered it, "Just like this."

He stared, studing the tan garment that covered his hand down to his wrist like a glove, "I need more of those?"

Bridgette nodded before proceeding, "When they're done with your chest you'll get one like this for it. When they do the face scan, they'll give you a plastic mask for your face that does the same thing. They've gotta make your burns better."

"Couple months, right?" he asked.

She nodded, "Yeah, they have to do physical therapy and stuff." The thought still made her want to cry. She wanted her dad home, with her, her mom and both of their dogs. Walking in at night around 11:30, getting the dogs all wound up and hearing her mom shout to be quiet while she sat on the couch laughing.

"Okay," he said quietly, pausing for a minute before saying, "I don't wanna see my face."

She nodded, "That's fine, you don't have to if you don't want to."

Lieu closed his eyes again, slowly allowing all of the information to process through his head. A knock came from the door, and Dr. Hanson entered the room. DK then quietly excused himself before he was late for his shift. Dr. Hanson proceeded to check Lieu's vitals and stats while Bridgette sat there quietly giving her father a reasurring look, while she held his hand. Dr. Hanson then went on to discuss with Lieu the procedures that would follow within the remaining months he would be there. Bridgette had heard it over and over again, she started to feel like she was listening to a broken record. They had to do some more debrading and skin grafts, start physical therapy, and in a couple weeks they would do the digital face scan. Then after that came occupational therapy because he had to learn how to use his arms and hands all over again. He had a walking cast on his right leg so he would be able to walk around as well. "Blah blah blah" Bridgette thought to herself, while she practically receited the doctor's words in her head. Dr. Hanson then informed them that they would start physical therapy that day, and it would go on every day, 3 times a day.

~*~*~

So began the daily regime(sp) of debrading, skin grafts, and tiring therapy along with easing away the high doses of pain medication. Included in the therapy was regaining his ability to walk around, which he was accomplishing quicker than expected. During the long recovery, Ruth and Bridgette would continue to alternate hours along with Jimmy, DK, and Walsh, who refused to stay home when they could be at the hospital. Although she never wanted to leave his side, Bridgette was forced to leave during the procedures. Making a mistake one day, she stayed outside of the door while Lieu's burns were being debrated. His screams of pain sent her into a frenzy, and if DK wouldn't have been there she would have beaten the doctor senseless with a haligan.

"I swear to God they're trying to kill me." Lieu argued unhappily. Wendie had just arrived to take him down to physical therapy, and he was throwing nothing less than a bitch fit.

Bridgette raised her eyebrows, "Yeah, keep telling yourself that."

"You're not helping." He frowned.

"What do you want me to do? You gotta go, you might as well just accept it. Sitting here bitching about it isn't gonna make it go away." She replied.

His frown deepened, "They can take me but I'm not doing anything."

Bridgette folded her arms, "If you don't cooperate I'm gonna go home tonight and paint your bedroom pink."

"You would not." he replied.

Her face fell deeply serious, "Bet me?"

"You're not joking are you?" he asked.

"Pink with flowers and cute little bunnies." She answered.

He closed his eyes and sighed before surrendering to Wendie and going to physical therapy. He returned an hour later, even more unhappy then he was to begin with. Every time he would come back he would be more miserable then the previous time, and unfortunately it would only get worse before it got better.