I own nothing, maybe my computer, but I mean, it's not incredibly impressive or anything. And I guess I have a good pair of shoes. And a cat. Also, I own a very comfortable trio of memory foam pillows and an obnoxiously large and comfortable blanket, and … I think you guys get it. Ms. Collins is a genius and owns this. Word. Enjoy, R/R. (cause it'll make my kitten happy)
Here I am now. Waiting by the phone. Every Thursday.
I've been waiting for eight hours when Dr. Franken returns to the room. He looks haggard and worried. "I need you." He looks at the phone and he looks at me, I must be trembling because he tosses me candy bar from his pocket. "It's over, sweetheart, you'll be able to call him every day, he'll be able to move here, you'll see him. I need you now."
I stand up slowly, waiting for the phone to ring, hoping it will ring, hoping I can hear his voice just one time before I leave. But it doesn't ring and I take a bite into the chocolate bar and follow Dr. Franken through the door. He leads me down the hall walking quickly. Around me the other nurses are in a frenzy. "She shot the President."
I don't understand. The Mockingjay's scheduled assassination of president Snow has been all over the news. What was everyone expecting?
"No, the other president. Coin's dead. The Rebellion is unstable, she's unstable, and I've been assigned to her. I need you to watch over my other patient, Miss Everdeen needs my undivided attention right now. You're the only person I trust with this case and I wish I could be here, but you need to do this on your own for a week or two. I'll call every day," at this he nods to the room and begins to turn away. "Oh, and Tisha." I'm staring at the door. "He'll call," he tosses me the keys for his office.
Before I can protest, Dr. Franken is gone. I pull the chart from the door. Sedated patient, assigned assistant to tend to the wound, right hand, consult District 13 physician to continue psychological treatment. Patient can be violent when upset.
I put on my best doctor's face and take a step inside the door. The patient is strapped to the bed with an IV to his right. His left hand is roughly bandaged and his face is smeared with some of what I hope to be his own blood. I stand up straighter and walk to my cabinet to pull on a pair of blue latex gloves. I pull out a packet of bedside tools and tear them out of their plastic packaging. I grab a suture kit and a roll of gauze. I pull my tools to the bedside and slowly unhook the straps around his wrist. With a pair of scissors I cut off the blood stained bandage and discover a round, distinct wound sunk just under a centimeter into flesh.
"You should see the other guy." The sound of his voice makes the scissors drop from my hand. I look up and find myself looking into cloudy blue eyes. He's awake, but a haze seems to lay on his face, the sedation has not fully worn off. He must sense the fear because he simply smiles. "Hi, I'm Peeta, I'd shake your hand but it appears my good hand is," he pauses. "Occupied."
I'm nod at him and let out a long sigh of relief. "Tisha," I respond. "You're in Col. Shenten Memorial Hospital, Dr. Franken is your attending physician but has asked me to tend to you while he works on another case," I keep a tone of professionalism and regain my handle on my tools. "It looks like I'm going to have to suture the wound. It's going to hurt so I'm going to put you under a bit longer." I reach for the IV and release a sedation pod into the stream.
"Not even a chuckle? Tough crowd tonight. Where's Katniss?" My hands slip again when he says her name. I look up from my work and stare into those blue eyes. I squint and reach for the gauze. I pour a little alcohol onto the cloth and then reach up to his face. I begin around the eyes and remove the dried blood from his forehead, his cheeks and it finally sets in.
"You're him," I exhale. He's already asleep. It's the Jabberjay, at least that's what I named him. He's the Mockingjay, but he sounds a lot better, and with just a few words managed to make everyone in the capitol swoon not only over him, but over her too. The boy could speak and make you believe anything, he was the Jabberjay, and he was here. No wonder Dr. Franken didn't mention a name, didn't tell me who or what I was dealing with, he knew I'd say no. Ever since the rebellion started, I got to be front row and center as the bodies came in, broken and bleeding. The Peacekeepers, like Ulrick, friends, the family of my friends, they all came through me – at least when they lived long enough to make it to the Capitol.
So why did Dr. Franken trust him in my care? A girl from district 2. Why put him in my hands when he knew how I felt? When I resented the Jays for all the blood they'd brought to my home. I knew the Capitol were masters of propaganda and that the lives of those in the other district were dire, but there was so much blood, so many times I held the hands of men that I knew I couldn't save, men who reflected back at me the dying luster I'd last seen in Ulrick's eyes when I left for the capitol.
I drew one more breath, it was best not to think about Dr. Franken's intentions. It was probably a mistake. He was so busy taking care of her that he didn't realize what a bad idea it was to leave me with him. He'd realize his mistake and set up an alternative, he'd be out of my hair in the morning, and if I was lucky, I'd be back in Ulrick's arms. Soon. Ulrick. I release the breath I've been holding and turn back to his hand. Cleaning the wound proves uneventful and I proceed to stitch his flesh back together. I soak a bandage and place it over the cut to keep it moist. Lowering his hand back onto the bed, I notice fairly fresh cuts along his wrist. They're clean, they're not too deep, and so I strap the restraints back around his forearm.
I push my tools back to the cabinet and toss them in the receptacle. I quickly peel off my gloves and wash my hands under the warm water. I turn away, glancing at the clock. It reads off 8:00 PM, ten hours from when Ulrick was supposed to have called me. If he's called, he'd surely have left a message. And Dr. Franken should be calling soon too, I would hate to miss the call and have this duty for another day. I walk to the door and nearly hit the floor when a scream assaults my ear drums. I turn to look at him, he's sweating and thrashing against his restraints. I rush to the IV, changing the intervals for the sedation and also allot for a morphling ration. I look at the patient next to me, the thrashing continues. I'm not thinking when I reach my hand down and brush my fingers through his hair. He trembles at my touch and then relaxes as the drugs take effect.
I'm walking away when he speaks, his voice dry from the sedation. "What day is it?"
"Thursday," I walk out the door as quickly as I can. Thursday.
Thursday was the day we'd agreed upon four months ago.
When the rebellion started I mostly kept to myself. We mostly kept to ourselves. Having been pulled in from district 2, I treaded in foul waters on a daily basis. Much like the jobs of the peacekeepers, few Capitol women were eager to take up positions in the hospitals. And so I was pulled in to fill the gaps. One of the reasons the Capitol pulled me was because I had no family to hold me to my district. They were nice from the start. Though I had no family, I did have love. They weren't happy when they discovered this, but tolerated me by allowing us daily phone contact. My Ulrick.
Once the rebellion started, the Capitol began to distrust its citizens, and its displaced citizens the worst. The phone calls were quickly stopped. The last thing the Capitol could afford was rebellion in the Capitol and so contact with the districts was strictly forbidden. The lack of contact was excruciating. It wasn't until the second month that Dr. Franken asked me into his office and provided me with the first glimmer of hope. He told me that word had reached him of a young man named Ulrick from district 2 had been captured and whipped when he was found trying to use one of the telephones in the head peacekeeper's quarters. He told me that Ulrick was alive, and that he had not given up on me, that he would find a way to contact me soon. I was at first distraught and Dr. Franken could see it on my face. He lifted my chin with his hands and smiled, explaining that his daughter had tended to his wounds and currently had him in her care.
At first I didn't understand. I left his office counting each of my footfalls as there was nothing else in the world that could be constant enough to keep me from breaking down that very moment. Three more days passed when Dr. Franken asked me into his office again. The tears were already streaming down my face when I reached his door and he pulled me in quickly. Upon seeing my face he just smiled, handed me a tissue and then pulled me into a hug. I had expected the worst, but something about his demeanor said otherwise and so I finally spoke and asked him if Ulrick was still alive. He just laughed and pulled me by my wrist to sit in his office chair. He told me to wait here and that if the phone rang to take a message. He then bolted out of the door and locked it shut behind him.
It wasn't until the phone rang that I began to understand. I couldn't even speak when I picked up the receiver and when I heard his voice on the other end I'd begun to weep and tell him again and again how much I loved him, that I missed him, that being without him was the hardest thing for me. And that day is when we made the promise. Every Thursday. He would call me on Thursdays in just this fashion. Dr. Franken would know and stand guard outside the door to be sure we weren't interrupted. The rebellion was starting in district 2 but he had managed to get hold of an active phone from the peacekeepers. His calls would go through, but he wouldn't be able to talk long, lest we get the attention of the Capitol monitoring systems. He told me he loved me and the line went silent.
With shaking hands I had set the receiver back on the phone just in time for Dr. Franken to come sliding in the door. I thanked him without words as I had none after that conversation. And the calls continued every week, every Thursday I would meet in Dr. Franken's office and wait. Sometimes the calls came in right away but in the past few weeks they were more and more delayed. I still received the call the day the rebels invaded the Capitol. It was early morning we'd agreed upon that day and all he could let me know was that something big was going to happen and that he loved me. He told me to stay in the hospital no matter what was happening. And I did. And now, one week later, I sit by the phone… waiting.
More to come, the premise of the story is the healing process between the time that Katniss shoots Coin and when he returns to District 12. And as far as disclaimers go, rest assured that I push Katniss/Peeta and will most of the story through. R/R if you enjoyed it (or if you didn't, or if you like kittens, or nachos, or inappropriate hand gestures, or grizzly bears…)