Participants:
| Scene Title | There The Whole Time |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Bartenders, are not like Captains and they do not go down with their bars. |
| Date | May 15, 2010 |
Old Lucy's & St. Luke's Hospital
The fires of Old Lucy's burned for a some time and whatever caught onto adjacent buildings. In the end, all that was left of the bar was toppled brick, smoldering embers, foundation and bones that would take a lot more than a cursory look to discern who they were and even then, it was questionable. But the flames guttered out, firefighters working in the horrendous cold to limit the damage to the outlying buildings and salvage them. It was one man, a 52 stamped on his helmet that came across the nameless blonde, laid out beneath some charred timbers and naked as the day god made her, in the middle of the gutted bar when he went through to poke around for hot spots. She hadn't been there before and there was no way they could have known that she'd been there the whole time, only in a completely different form. Couldn't have known that when the flames died out, she'd patchily re-appeared, flame giving way to solid flesh.
No burns, no marks or hints that the fire had or was hurting her, the debris underneath her warm to the touch. Just soot and ash painting her skin where she lay unconscious, curled up on her side. Bellows of a survivor worked quickly through the ranks and the paramedics with the fire department descended to cover her up, ambulance called and driven off quick as possible to St. Lukes because of the three gunshots that still riddled the back of her and in need of medical attention. Not once did the blonde woman wake up to let them know who she was.
Written off as either someone who sought shelter from the cold and got caught up in a robbery or dropped off in the chaos by who knew, to be found. Speculation of the Jane Doe was mused about as they worked away through the early early morning.It wasn't until she had been settled into a bed after having gone through surgery to remove bullets and fix her that someone recognized her. A nurse who had been around forever, flirted with one of the EMT's down in the bay. Not long after fingerprints came back too, Jane Doe's name was Abigail Beauchamp. The owner of the bar that had burned down.
It was a few hours later before consciousness came, eyelids fluttering open and staring at the ceiling with a foggy mind and trying to place where she was, parse what had happened and pressing the button for a nurse. Within a half hour, calls were being made for the woman in the bed who was trying hard to stay calm as a certain Petrelli had told her to not long ago. Burning down a hospital was not an option. Director Matthew Parkman. Francois Allegre or Teodoro Laundani. Dean Beauchamp. The former so that he could be told that Dreyfus was one of the bodies in the building and needed his help, the latter three… Because she didn't know what what was going on and wanted her friends and wanted her family.