“Woah, you really do have a schedule, huh?” Otis has tomorrow with Herrmann, and then there’s Casey and Mouch-” “Well, I’m here today, then Gabby’s coming by tonight. You snort, “So, what’s the schedule looking like this week?” “Didn’t think you had enough stuff in here already,” he nods towards the windowsill full of cards, flowers, and stuffed animals that all shouted at you to heal before he takes a seat in the spare chair beside your hospital bed. “You’re lucky I can barely move, because those are fightin’ words, Severide,” you shoot back, before scooching as best you can up in bed, just enough to take the bear with your right hand as he hands it to you. “Aw, thanks,” you genuinely coo at it, “it’s adorable.” “Yeah, because it’s such a pain to hang out with a chick like you,” Kelley shoots back, and for once you’re glad that one of them isn’t treating you with kid-gloves after what happened. “Hey,” god, did you sound as hoarse as you thought you did? That’s what you get when you have a tube down your throat for weeks. Your smile doesn’t waver, though, despite the dull noticeable ache in your side, “Look who drew the short straw.” Instead, you’re happily proven wrong as Severide steps through, holding a small teal teddy bear with the words Get Well Soon plastered along the right side of it’s head. You’re drawn from your thoughts as the door to your room opens, and you lull your head to the side, expecting the perky blonde-headed Brandi-with-an-I, as she had been so happy to announce at seven o’clock this morning, nurse to waltz through your door with another dose of pain medicine. Okay, maybe you were as dramatic as Gabby had accused you of being in the wake of your near-death experience, but you felt like it was warranted. You’d been moved out of the ICU, after it had become apparent that you weren’t going to die this time around- Herrmann still didn’t like you saying that, even as a joke- and instead you’d been left to rot on some floor that you swore they’d never release you from. Four crushed ribs, a punctured lung, and the harsh burns to your lower left side were nothing to shake a stick at, that’s for sure.īut in your opinion, the boredom was the worst of it. They told you how it had been touch and go for the good couple of weeks that you spent in the intensive care unit, right before you had been extubated and brought back into the coherent world of the living. You were out of commission, to say the least, but the worst was behind you. Ironically, it turned out not to be the ceiling that collapsed, but rather the floor beneath you. He had just made it out the window with the last resident of the burning apartment complex when you felt the ground shake. The last thing you remembered before waking up with a searing pain in your left side and the annoying grate of a beeping monitor was screaming at Otis to leave first before the whole ceiling came down on you. Imagine the Firehouse 51 team taking it in shifts to keep you company at the hospital after you got badly injured.
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