Blaine Abernathy: A Canary Caged
Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games
Chapter 25: The Jabberjays
Blaine's POV
Everything was overwhelming.
The last thing I remember was hearing Cinna calling out to me as I was being taken away. The flashing of lights, people talking, and an oxygen mask forced on me. I was so weak that I couldn't fight back.
My world became dark.
Trapped in a dark abyss.
Time seemed to vanish.
I didn't know where I was, let alone if I was in a safe place. The moments I could think in the darkness, I knew Cinna was nearby…if he was still alive. He trusted the two soldiers with color-shifting uniforms. They have to be allies or something that Cinna would follow.
My body fell into some sort of comatose state. Unable to truly wake or respond. As if my body became lead. Unable to open my eyes or speak. Unable to even move my fingers. All I could tell from my other senses was that the location was mildly warm, a hospital, smelling the chemicals, hearing medical equipment. A constant drip in the silence. Possibly an IV drip. Time seemed to pass, and I was unsure how long I'd been unconscious or awake. It was like my mind was awake, but my body wasn't. There was nothing to do except wait.
What happened?
Did Cinna and I actually escape, or was it a dream?
What's going on in the arena?
Are my friends safe?
Is Haymitch safe?
Am I dead?
So many questions danced in my head, and I could not concentrate or realize the situation. Footsteps could be heard around me in the dark, empty abyss, followed by the scribbling of pen on paper and soft murmurs. Sometimes, a person would hold my hand, and the same person would kiss my forehead and then leave me in the dark. I could only guess the person was Cinna by the shortness of the last two digits of his hand, the smell of his cologne, and his silent apologies.
Indistinctive voices could be heard. One, I could identify Cinna. But there was a second voice. Male. It sounded familiar but, at the same time, different. They were talking, yet their voices were hushed. I couldn't make out what they said. The second person left shortly, and Cinna claimed my hand again.
So many thoughts linger. As I tried to figure out where my relationship with Cinna would go, I thought we were going to die. He sacrificed himself for the rebels, and I…I was willing to do so the Capitol wouldn't use me again. To die together.
Cinna loves me.
And I am unworthy of that love.
Let alone, I don't think I can fully trust him.
Yet not most of my anger is at him. I'm angry at myself for the life I brought myself into. I could've refused President Snow, yet I obeyed him and became a traitor to everyone.
.o0o.
I woke up to a world of darkness. Panic, I struggled to find some sort of object or anything, only to have my body restrained. A loud beeping triggered an alarm that made a swooshing noise from a door open, followed by a scurry feel while hands touched me. I struggled against the people holding me down, saying everything was alright and to calm down.
"I can't see!" I screamed. "I can't see!"
"Blaine, calm down," said a familiar voice.
"I can't see!" I screamed.
Strong hands took hold of my shoulders, "Calm down. You're safe. Breathe."
I recognized that voice, "Lyme?"
"I'm here," Lyme murmured.
"I can't see," I sobbed.
"You need to calm down," she continued to calm me. "Once you calm down, you will see."
Lyme did breathing exercises until I was stable. It took some time, but I managed to calm myself after what Damon did to me. Gouging my left eye out, I fear I would go blind. Lyme removed the top restraints and helped me sit up. My hands were still clinging to her shoulder for stability.
"Remove the bandages," the doctor ordered the nurses to remove the bandages immediately. Once she did, I blinked, covering my eyes to the instanced bright light, though relaxed a moment later, able to see some detail and outlines in a haze. The doctor dimmed the lights and removed the bottom restraints. "How are you feeling?"
"…Drugged," I panted, still covering my eyes, though my body still felt heavy and numb.
"That would be the morphling," the doctor chuckled nervously.
I glance at Lyme. She was not in her glamorous Capitol attire. Instead, her face was clean, practically unforgettable, while her hair was no longer curled but tossed around. She wore dark clothing, a simple shirt, pants, and combat boots. She gave her signature smile, yet it was weird without the red lips.
"You're safe," Lyme assured. "You're in good hands."
I could only nod.
The doctor stepped in, yet Lyme kept her hold on me.
"We had you in intensive care and set you on the remake. Your back suffered severe damage, a fractured pelvis bone, a few broken ribs, and…" He hesitated.
"Just say it." I snapped.
Lyme's grip tightened silently, warning me to calm down.
"Scarring to your left eye," He quickly said. "But don't worry, we are searching for donors and recreating a robotic eye."
"Let me see," I whispered.
"Pardon?" the nurse asked.
"A mirror, let me see?" I demanded.
The nurse hesitated on the request, but the doctor assured her it was alright and to fetch a mirror. Once she returned, the doctor held the mirror up to my face. Slowly, I removed my hand to see my reflection in an empty eye socket. Around the socket was bruising in yellowish tones with scarring on the upper eyelid. Cautiously, I blinked both eyes to feel a strange sensation of dryness on the empty socket. If looking closely inside the socket, you see dark pink flesh. Unable to hold my stomach, I covered my left eye and looked away. Lyme wrapped her arms around me, rubbing my back. Instantly, the doctor put the mirror away.
"Luckily, the optic nerve wasn't damaged?" the nurse hesitantly said.
"It's best if you leave Quinn." The doctor said, to which she obliged quickly. Once she was gone, the doctor sighed, "I'm sorry about that. Quinn is optimistic. I'm Dr. Caduceus. I'll be taking care of you during your recovery, rehab, and therapy." He pulled something out of his lab coat, some black leather strap until he lifted it to be an eye patch at eye length. "Until we can resolve the situation, I advise you to wear this."
"Scare the shit out of people if I didn't." I chuckled bitterly.
Lyme chuckled as well.
"You're no Philip II of Macedon." Dr. Caduceus agreed as he helped me put on the eye patch.
The doctor appeared to dress ordinarily, unlike the capital characteristics other than his thick accent. He had dark skin close to an olive complexion, grayish blonde hair groomed, and golden caramel eyes for his elderly age.
"How long have I been out?" I asked.
"Five days. . ." Lyme answered. "You made a lot of people worry."
"My dad, Haymitch, is he?" I panicked.
Lyme squeezed my shoulder, "He's safe."
I panted, taking a few deep breaths.
"Let's do a quick examination," Dr. Caduceus cautiously suggested. "Then I'll consider discharging you from the infirmary."
I could only nod, yet I did not want to be alone. Lyme remained as she leaned against the wall with her arms crossed, occasionally giving the doctor a warning look. The doctor ignored her as he continued the examination. So, for an hour, Dr. Caduceus went through procedures on the physical. My reflexes were adequate; no pain other than soreness around the eye, and my vitals appeared to be normal. However, I stared at my arms and legs, seeing the electrical scars.
"I can arrange another remake to remove those scars," Dr. Caduceus offered. "But it will take some time. I want your body to recover more before further treatment."
I could only nod.
Lyme helped me change into a pair of sweats before the doctor inserted a new I.V. I was still on guard, glancing around the infirmary to see if it was up to Capitol standards…but something was off. It wasn't luxurious.
"Where am I?" I asked. "What happened?"
I recall Cinna with the two soldiers talking about the events that happened. Yet they all seem fuzzy now. Or maybe I am afraid to hear the actual truth.
"I think it's best we talked to the higher-ups," Lyme said slowly, as she wrapped an arm around me, leading the way as Dr. Caduceus escorted us out of the infirmary. However, the doctor kept a sharp eye on my, if not the I.V. bag. Wherever we are, we didn't say district but Capitol in the simplest fashion. The floors were marbled tile, walls painted or wood furnished with paintings, wooden doors, and essential lighting. It's not so much of a hospital or some Training Center.
"Dr. Caduceus…" I started, though hesitant.
"Yes, Miss Abernathy?" he replied.
"What happened…after or during the game?"
Dr. Caduceus sighed, scratching his groomed beard. "It's not my place to say. But a lot of people are dead, and there is a dispute between the Rebels and Insurgents."
"The Rebels betrayed the Insurgents," I said as a matter of fact. "I remember a soldier saying it."
"Along those terms." He confirmed, opening the door to another room. "But now, the Insurgent's main objective is to organize and plan. I'll leave you here so you can privately discuss with the insurgents head."
I glance at Lyme, who nods reassuringly, "I'll be out here."
I hesitated but nodded as I entered the room, examining the room to be exactly like the Remake Center. Two black leather couches faced each other over a low glass coffee table. Three walls and the fourth is entirely glass, giving a view of the Capitol under a waterfall curtain directed toward the lake's monument gazebo. From the shades of gray in the sky, it would be early morning.
"Captivating isn't it." A voice said.
I jumped, turning around to see Xavier Varick in the corner of the room. He looked exactly the same as the last time I saw him, minus his age and hair in a groom. Those brown eyes were no longer surrounded by ruby red eyeliner but a metallic bronze complimenting his angular face.
"You're supposed to be dead," I said sharply.
"And you have a terrible shot." He countered by pulling down the collar of his black shirt to show a scar over the upper part of his lung. "Then again, Damon had a better aim in my back. Good thing I jumped into the lake so the Capitol can label me dead."
"Unbelievable," I grumbled, clutching the I.V. stand tightly. I spent years feeling guilty about killing him, and the damn bastard is alive all this time playing tricks on me. "The sunflowers?"
"A slight token of my affection." He said sarcastically and then pointed at the couch. "Please take a seat. You need to gain your strength."
"Where are we?" I asked, taking a seat.
"Well, it's not District 13 or the Capitol." He said, pressing a button on the side of the table. The top split open, and a tray of food from a continental breakfast came up. Varick handed me a croissant, poured me a glass of tea, and along with a small pack of pills. I raised a brow at the pills. "They're vitamins."
I raised a brow but didn't consume them, "Why am I here? What the hell is going on?"
"You're here because you play a major part in this war," Varick explained. "You see, long ago, before the Dark Days, the government had a secret covert unit. If the government has violated the Constitution, it's our job to prioritize civil rights. President Collins, the first President of Panem, created us to maintain order in politics and the public. She called it Eagle Eye. When President Collins finished her election, the corrupted politicians changed the new Constitution that our founding fathers created hundreds of years ago. Eagle Eye representatives tried to resolve the problem of the new political party. However, they failed, resulting in the Dark Days. The Capitol government executed Eagle Eye's main leaders, except they didn't consider a side branch."
"The Jabberjays?" I thought aloud, thinking about the cards.
"That is what we are, Jabberjays. A secret division right under the Capitol's nose who try to redirect the golden age. The Capitol created us, so we give them the information they want like the Rebels did with the Jabberjay birds." He explained. "In the beginning, we've been in a secret war to end the Hunger Games and try to stop the oppression over the districts. What better way than to control what the public views."
"So, you're revolutionary moderates."
"Something along those terms," he snorted. "Back to the point. The Jabberjays have allied with the rebels for the past eighty years. Until President Coin from District 13 decided to pull off an irrational rescue mission by using the Jabberjays cyber network and damaging our private communication."
"What happened when…Cinna and I were arrested?" I asked hesitantly. "My friends and Haymitch?"
Varick leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs. "Your father is with the rebels along with Katniss Everdeen, Finnick Odair, and Beetee Latier. Our cooperative agent, Plutarch Heavensbee, seemed to linger on the rebel's side and used the Girl on Fire. I must confess, I had a part in making the Mockingjay. Because of their irrational decision, the Capitol captured Peeta Mellark, Johanna Mason, and the last career, Enobaria Ripper. Meanwhile, we managed to save Miya, Acre, Hacker, Lyme, Wade and you."
"You don't sound pleased," I noted.
"I am angry because of the limited time we have to save the rest of the Victors." He said. "When Katniss blew up the force field in the arena…President Snow decreed that all victors are traitors. Annie Cresta is now under custody along with the rest of the thirty-four victors being arrested, interrogated, and probably executed."
"What!" I shrieked.
"I know," Varick murmured, trying to calm the situation. "But don't worry. We plan on saving as many as possible before the rebels' actual war."
I scowled at this. I tried so hard to prevent a war. Even betrayed my friends to ensure war doesn't happen. I felt the cracks ripple as I tried to keep my emotions together. However, the way Varick's brown eyes stared at me, I knew there was more. As if there was guilt as if what he was about to say was far worse than starting a war.
"There's more?" I asked.
Varick sighed and looked deep into my serious eyes. "Blaine, I need you to understand that we did not anticipate what I'm about to say."
I sat there, slightly tense, while I clenched my fist. I tried to go through the list of what had happened. The friends who were rescued, the ones captured, and those who are dead. What could possibly go wrong than what is happening?
"There is no longer a District 12."
Silence engrossed the room as Varick's words took time to absorb. My first thought was the cemetery where my mother and those who were buried. Then came the Covey. Followed by all the families I care for. The tears fell, but I could not respond. Varick got Lyme in as she slowly got me back to my senses.
"How?" I managed to say.
"I think we should talk about this another time," Varick suggested.
"How!" I demanded.
Varick took a deep breath as he explained that after the rebels rescued the tributes, District 12 was bombed by the Capitol. The same way as District 13. The coal dust sent the small District into an inferno, and many lives were lost in the market area and seams. There may be a possibility of survivors. However, the insurgents don't know but bet the rebels from Thirteen are searching.
He made a slide comment about the District suffering a pox epidemic, lowering the population and making most of the survivors infertile. Another excuse to have more soldiers. I clenched my fists, unsure how I felt in the conflicted emotions. Lyme kept a good hold on me.
"What about me?" I asked. "Am I now a prisoner, soldier, or whatnot?"
"You will relax and recover until further notice," Varick answered. "We will need your knowledge on the Profit Circle and how it works in espionage. Blaine, I promise you that you are no longer caged or a subordinate. If you want to return to your father, I can arrange a hovercraft to take you to District 13. However, I can't promise you'll become a soldier and die on the battlefront. I can also let you go, and you can return to the Capitol, but I can't promise you your safety. The choices are yours?"
Although Varick was giving me a choice, no absolute freedom of any branch exists. The Capitol with its authoritarian power, the rebel's revolution, and the Insurgent's revelation. All three are power, freedom, and truth. I know the Capitol is not evil, just misguided under the restriction of their government, and that the citizens were raised in this society of madness where children fight to the death. There was still a chance to resolve this chaos and make everyone equal. The options were either to return to the Profit Circle and report to Snow, which I'll end up being executed, or join Haymitch and the rebels in mentoring the Mockingjay, only to end up dead still. However, joining the Insurgents means immunity with a voice of reason. The moderates want to bring back democracy. I can't stay on either side, even if it means betraying my country or family. I'm making the decision of what is right.
"I'm in."
Lyme rubbed my back, knowing I was safer with the Jabberjays than with the rebels.
Varick smiled, leaning forward to offer a hand to shake. I inhaled sharply and shook the ghost's hand, confirming the alliance of the Insurgents and Canary.
.o0o.
Xavier showed me and Lyme around the Jabberjays headquarters towards the bedroom floor. He told me I'd be sharing quarters with Miya since the girl had suffered the consequences of the invasion; in other words, her parents were killed. My heart throbbed, knowing what it's like to lose a parent, and I held no complaints whatsoever.
"We will discuss further tomorrow," Varick said. "Get some rest."
Afterward, he left.
I glance at Lyme, who stands there.
"Can we trust them?" I asked.
She nodded, "I've been a Jabberjay since I was twenty."
My eyes widened when hearing this, "How…How did you not get caught."
Lyme gave a chuckle, "I've been careful."
I nodded, still trying to grasp what she said.
She patted my shoulder, "Get some rest."
I could only nod before going inside. When I entered the quarters, it was similar to the Capitol interior, although simple, with two full-size beds, one occupied. I sat down on the corner of the bed where Miya slept with Shiloh in her arms. Her face was tear-stained, and her eyes were puffy, no doubt from crying.
War is a dangerous thing that President Snow tried to avoid so that not all shall suffer. Just how many more children have to go parentless or become orphans? I'll make it my duty to ensure that Miya lives safely and soundly.
As time went on, so did my overwhelming headache from the amount of information that dropped on me like a barrel of bricks. Lyme has been working with the insurgents since she was twenty. She organized the District 2 rebels outside the masonry. Cinna, who was a Jabberjay. Xavier Varick was still alive.
District 12 is no more.
I didn't know what to do anymore.
Even though I was promised safety here, there was a chance I would die.
Miya soon woke up. She yawned, stretching slightly before her leg struck me gently. She shot up to see me. Before I could say anything, she lunged at me in a massive embrace. The impact nearly knocked us over. I groaned, still sensitive, even after my I.V. was taken out.
Miya gasped as she pulled back slightly, "You're alive."
"I am," I confirmed tiredly.
Miya nodded, as she seemed like she was about to cry. Not wanting her to feel alone, I held her in my arms. She needs comfort despite everything that has happened. So, I sat there holding the cowgirl while Shiloh rubbed against us.
Time seemed to vanish as I shut down.
Later in the night, I took a shower, washing the smell of medicine off me. The water was hot, though the pressure was light. However, I couldn't bring myself under the shower, so I sat in a corner, shaking violently. The boiling hot temperature assured me I wasn't being waterboarded. But I just couldn't help as flashbacks of Damon's abuse controlled me. Therefore, I just sat in the corner of the shower as the sprays ran about while using a washrag to clean myself.
When I finished, I saw something red covered over me. I jumped, falling out of the stall with a scream, for blood was pouring from the showerhead. Miya barged into the room, worried.
"Blaine, are you okay?" Miya asked as she wrapped a towel over me.
The blood was gone, no sign of it anywhere, like it never happened. I panted rapidly, looking between Miya and the shower, unsure if I was okay.
Thanks for reading, and please leave a review.
