𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐏𝐈𝐄 ━━ finnick odair ✓

𝐭𝐰𝐨. ( flowers and enemies )

            Finnick's world is wet. For every five minutes he spends tuned in, four are spent weeping. The doctors tell him that this is due in part to the extreme electrical impact he took at the end of the Quell. They don't bother to mention what the other part is.

Katniss was cleared from the hospital wing a few days ago, on the stipulation that she's within the care of her family. Finnick has no family, so he stays in the sterile white room, now completely alone save for the rotating list of medical personnel. The head doctor tells him her name every time, but he just can't seem to remember it. Nothing sticks anymore. He knows that they have to repeat every instruction a few times before it sinks in. Once again they tell him that this is because of the blown forcefield.

The elephant in the room is that forcefield or not, his mind would only be here half of the time anyway. The other half of the time it's far away, reaching across the span of the country to sit him solidly in the Capitol. Sometimes he sits in his old bedroom in the tower or in the lounge. Other times he's held far below the earth in catacombs with no light. All of the time, he's alone. But he's close enough to hear voices. Sometimes it's Ronan, other times it's Johanna, but almost always in the mix is Fara.

She always says that she's okay, that she's simply being held there to keep the rebels in line. Ronan, too, claims that their treatment is adequate but begs for release in worry that something sinister is coming. Johanna rants and rambles about the conditions and the torture that they face. He believes Johanna the most.

He tries his hardest to tell them that he's sorry, that he'll do the best he can to help. It's after a particularly concerning conversation with them that Finnick tries to go after them for the first time.

That first time, he left his bed clad in nothing more than the thin hospital gown. Desperate for a weapon, he'd pulled the handrail from the wall nearest his bed and darted out into the hallway. His room had been dim and the hall was bright white. The light was the first crack in his resolve for the rescue mission. The second was the noise of people. Far too many people for him to take on with his pole. They'd be peacekeepers, armed with assault rifles and grenades. He found the first open door and hid for hours in the janitorial closet. When the peacekeepers finally came for him, dressed in long white coats, he fought. He dropped one to the floor before he was subdued.

When he woke up again, he was back in the hospital bed. The doctor told him that he was in District 13, that he was safe, but it only got harder and harder to keep his location sorted. The door was always locked, then. His only chance of escape was to rush the staff right when they walked in. So that's what he did. After that, he was kept tethered to the bed by a small white cuff on his wrist.

Now he's better. He can remember where he is most of the time and he can remember that the people who come in and out of his room are good. They still wont unlock the cuff, though he asks every time he sees the doctor. She simply tells him that he's far too strong to take the chance on. The first nurse he attacked is still in physical therapy. That should make Finnick feel guilty, but it doesn't. He doesn't have enough guilt to go around anymore. All of it sits with his family still in the Capitol. He sits there sometimes as well, still in those rooms on the other side of a wall from the hostages.

As if she can read his mind, the doctor instructs the staff to try to keep him present as often as they can. This has incited a litany of ridiculous screening tests throughout the day. Yes, he knows what his name is. Yes, he knows how old he is. Yes, he knows where he is. No, he does not remember the attendants' names.

Things are easier to understand when they take him off of the pain medication. The passage of time between days makes more sense. He has been in District 13 for a week now. In that time there's been no word on the victors who were left behind. Instead of telling him that there are no updates, everyone keeps saying we're trying our best to bring them home or we'll know soon . They seem to think that his instability makes him stupid. These placations don't mean a damn thing other than to buy time until Finnick asks again. And ask he does. He couldn't care less what kind of strain it puts on Plutarch, his belligerence will only cease when progress is demonstrated.