CAP: Early Steps (Jack)

[Anatra]

Some saw the sun,
Some saw the smoke.
Some heard the gun,
Some bend the bow.

The days went by with their due slowness. The amount of times I had seen the same nurse pass the window ahead of me was uncountable, though the amount of times she came into my room was thrice as much. The atmosphere changes when she comes in now. I know I am getting better, and I can tell that the sympathy that she may once have had was easing off. I am officially in the clear, they tell me. The price of losing didn't seem so high - injuries are lessons. I learned from this that I shouldn't throw myself into the darkness again, without knowing what I am doing first. It wasn't my understanding that I would be hospitalized and broken for a week and some more.

Sometimes the wire,
Must tense for the note.

Right now I am definitely doing better. They took the bandages off of my arm and back, but not my neck yet, just in case the wounds ripped. I can see the cut on my arm, and it looks very horrific. It was all a blur when it happened, like a bad nightmare. Now, I can barely remember it happening but this wound brings a lot back. I hold it up to the light, which is still beaming down without relent. The bumps that were one flowing streams of blood have now sown themselves over, the stitches ready to be unmade. I caress the scar that it will leave. I know not how heroic this may look, only the memory of how it was done - recklessness, brutality. Stupidity and perhaps a little bit of genius. My back's wound is larger, stretching from hip to shoulder almost. It required a skin graft and a multitude of stitches which will likely sting to remove due to the close proximity to my spine. They aren't quite ready yet, but the itching will start soon enough. My neck is still covered, and the painkiller is mostly there. I can move it pretty freely though, and I can tell that these are the two scars that will stand out the most when they are revealed. I wonder how people will see me now?

The daylight pours into the room, and suddenly I remember that I am allowed to get up for a walk today. I know exactly where I am going. I am placed in a ward close to accident reception, which is basically a place for those with minor accidents who need a little help - like a stitch or something to keep them working. I get up, and my first steps weight on my legs with a stiffness I haven't been used to for a long time. It is like all of the muscles in your body have been shaken until they hurt. I endure it, because I'm far too eager not to. I change from the ridiculous nightwear gown... robe... thing, they make us wear. I'm the clothes that Alba had brought me - a black t-shirt and some grey jogging bottoms. I reach the door and I feel rebellious even opening it - but I do. Soon enough my steps take me to the accident reception and I sit in the chairs and watch people come in from time to time. Since I'm not allowed off site, I may as well do some people watching. Not in the strange way, but in the way that tells me that I need to speak to real people. Being locked up for a week is painful to the mind. I sit there for a while, not becoming bored because with each opening of the door - new air is introduced to my lungs.

Caught in a fire.
Say oh, we're about to explode.

[Jack Lexington]

MATTHEW DUNHAM


The iluminator in front of me is white, bright white lights but nothing to see on it. The whole small room I'm sitting in is white, sterile, with all medical supplies safely stored away in small drawers on the side. For a moment I'm tempted to go rummaging through these drawers to search fro morphling while I'm waiting. Not that I'm addicted to the stuff but it sure creates a nice , cozy feeling.
Today I'm too nervous to steal stuff though. Instead I nervously tap my good foot against the examination table I'm sitting on while waiting for a doctor to come in and see me in the walk in section of the hospital.
Three days ago I was released after staying her for four days, which were enough to put me back on my feet, well foot.
I was told it will be a few weeks until I can fully use my leg again and should do physiotherapy. But even the doctor knew his words were merely pro forma because he was aware that I'm competing in the pregames and still have one round to go.
Is till question whether I should go on considering the handicaps I have while my oponent will go into the fight mostly unharmed.
My eyes roam over my injured hand that lays useless in my lap. By now I've gotten almost used to the ugly sight of my swollen, stitched up fingers that seem slightly discolored. They look like Frankensteins concoction and don't react to any movement I'm willing them to make. "Fuck." I frown.

The wait is finally over when the doctor whom I met a few days ago and who told me to better leave the stumps as they were, enters the room and pins an x-ray picture on the iluminator in front of me.
"Morning Mr. Dunham. let's have a look at this."
He carefully studies the images leaving me hanging on the edge of the table and holding my breath.
"And?" I nervously demand to know.
"Hm, the bones are uniting. I can't determine the nerve damage yet."
That's definetly not what I wanted to hear so I sigh heavily. "I thought you're going to tell me whether I can use my fingers again."
He carefull takes my hand in his and lightly taps the end of a small metal instrument against the tips asking me whether I can feel it or whether I can bend them. Both I deny.
"We'll check again in a week. We can't be sure right now. It might take a few weeks. Be patient."

With that he releases me to get my hand rewrapped in a splint by one of the nurses on duty. Patience is definetly not one of my virtues. So by the time I'm ready to leave I'm udderly frustrated.

With a deep frown set on my lowered gaze I step out into the hallway and slowly make my way towards the exit when I pass somebody who looks familiar out of the corner of my eye.
At a closer look I recognise Tyren sitting in one of the plastic chairs on the wall dressed in training clothes.
"What are you doing down here?" I greet him. Instantly a smile finds its way to my lips.
"Have they release you?" Without asking I take a seat next to him and let my eyes roam over him. He looks a lot livelier than last time I saw him. Bandages still cover his neck but he's upright and not as pale any more.
"How are you doing?" My concern is genuine and suddenly my own troubles are forgotten.

[Anatra]

Whilst sitting alone in the waiting room, not needing to tell those behind the desk I am just sitting, I take a deep breath and rid my nose and lungs of the lingering hospital smells. It is only now that I can begin to feel reality slip back into me, as the morphling is for starters; wearing off, but also it is being weaned off. Meaning I am getting better, finally. A week is a long time for somebody like me. I always like to be on the move, doing something important and productive. Suddenly, my train of thought moves to work, and I think of how my absence will impact that. Not much, they have plenty of bored workers to use. And my brother did say he would work overtime.

"Don't you worry mate, I've got it all sorted." He told me. I trusted him, and still do. Genuinely, there are few people that compare to his capability to be relied on. Twins are like that, though. They are everything you are, but more and less at the same time - their edges are curved while yours are square, but still you make the same shape in the end. We're not identical, but everybody seems to think we act it. It's true, we both use the bow, and we both entered the pregames and failed. Me more than him though, clearly. "I can't really thank you enough." I replied to him. "Don't then. That's why I'm here." Always lands a smile on my face, too. I can't be sure whether there are more brotherly people in the world, or if it is just here, in my family, that they reside.

There is a television in the corner of the room. It shoes Saffron Lowe, the winner of the 65th Annual Hunger Games, taking her victory once more in reminder that the next Games are soon. I envy her. She's young, a victor, and has a lot of time ahead of her. But then again, all of those are disadvantages in Panem.

I raise my head and suddenly, out of the blue, there is a familiar face. "What are you doing down here?" I laugh at a polite level. "Nice to see you too." I don't sound snide. I sound happy to see him again. It is strange how this situation has drawn us together. If only he knew about me and Mark, who I just found out would be in the finale fight, and how I could easily have shot an arrow through his skull for nearly handing me in to the Peacekeepers. "Have they released you?" I shake my head at him, something I'm actually able to do now. A smile raises to my face yet again, reminding me of how pleasant new company is - especially out of that hospital room. I wouldn't tell him, but my whole body still feels stiff and conquered by drugs. In fact, it was only today I was permitted to leave the room, never mind down a staircase or two. I did it anyway, because that's what people do to escape - they hesitate. That's exactly mine and Matthew's situation. We did what we could to escape. And to escape we had to win.

"How are you doing?" I want to respond telling him how valuable the visits from him have been to my recovery. I hold my tongue for a moment, though. "Yeah, good... Apparently I'm fit to be out of here next week. The main thing was blood loss, now it's just the stitches in my neck. If I push the boundaries too far they might loosen and then I'd have to rewind and start over. Won't happen, though." I feel a guilt in me that I haven't felt for a while. My eyes are looking at his hand in the splint and I realize that I haven't paid much attention to his injuries. I've been selfish. "Is your hand gonna be alright?" I nod my head to his hand, wanting to influence an answer about his fingers - since I'm entirely responsible for their outcome. Half of my mind is focused on bringing up the fact Mark is his opponent, however. I have to, I need to tell him that he has to win.

[Jack Lexington]

MATTHEW DUNHAM

Tyren looks so much better today than the past days. It might be the absence of the bed he was always in and that ridiculous hospital gown. Now he looks like a human again and greets me with a genuine smile. "Nice to see you too." I can tell that he means it. It seems like he's really forgiven me. If he didn't he'd put on one heck of a great act.

He shakes his head when asked about being released. I guess I got lucky because I didn't loose as much blood as he did and never was in critical condition.
"Apparently I'm fit to be out of here next week. The main thing was blood loss, now it's just the stitches in my neck. If I push the boundaries too far they might loosen and then I'd have to rewind and start over. Won't happen, though." He tells me and I nod while my bad conscience is returning reminding me that I'm at fault here. I did THIS to him.

"I hope you get out of here pretty soon. You look better." It's funny. I sit here next to him as if we were friends or at least training partners when all we are is opponents. Who knows, maybe one day we'll fight on the same side.

He also enquires about my health, my hand in particular, which makes me wrinkle my brow. It's a very sore subject especially after just hearing that nothing can be said yet and I can't feel a damn thing in those fingers. It's a true loss on my side and while he was in worse shape after the fight I might be the one with the permanent damage.
Do I really want to tell him and burden him with it? Then again he might as well know what he did to me. I'm not ready to admit anything to myself just yet so I decide to play it down.
"Ah...Just had it checked. I don't know. It was pretty messed up before."

For a moment I watch two nurses walk down the hallway with clipboards in their hands. They don't take any note of us. Further down an older guy is sitting in a chair pressing a cloth to his eye. We can hear some more people talk behind closed doors. This place is fairly busy.

I wonder what to talk about with Tyren now that our health stats have been exchanged. Suddenly the training day at the center, when I first met him and Mark comes to mind. Mark was arrogant back then but so was Tyren. Come to think about it I just blew both of them off so they might think the same about me.
"Did you actually fight Mark during training? You don't have to tell me but I could use some pointers. He's practically taken apart his last opponent."
I neglect to say that it was the career girl, that I have my eyes on: Kyanite. She's in bad shape now.
"Any idea about his favorite weapon?" With Tyren it was easy because he puts his on display. I knew what I was in for and that I needed at least a medium range weapon to strike back.

[Anatra]

I slip my hands into my pockets. There isn't much in them except an old receipt and my little paper ticket that I was given to prove I was allowed in the fight. I take a deep breath. "Did you actually fight Mark during training? You don't have to tell me but I could use some pointers. He's practically taken apart his last opponent." I wish that Mark hadn't. I wish that he had lost and that Matthew was facing somebody less prepared. Though there is a chance. If I could sway the odds, tell Matthew what I know, I could potentially give him an edge. "I didn't fight him, but I didn't need to. He practically told me everything." ... "Any idea about his favorite weapon?" I nod, confirming it to myself first so that I don't get this wrong. It is key to Matt's success. "Yeah, he uses two swords. I don't expect he will be shy of coming close with those. My thoughts were when I used my bow were; He won't get close, it's fine. But you did, and that's where my weapon was then useless. With Mark, he'll have to get close, and you'll have to keep him at distance." I sigh to myself, realizing that I'm talking to the person who beat me in the arena. "Well, you know all this already." I smile though, I don't want things to turn sour.

Suddenly I think back, and literally to my back as well. When I had just turned seventeen, me and my brother got matching tattoos on our backs... Mine won't actually match his anymore. It will be skewed and off-center. The tattoo was of a vulture, pasted in Capitol symbols, carrying all of the districts in it's claws. It stretched across my back shoulder to hip. Now, it has a huge scar running all the way through.

Right through the Capitol's eyes, freeing the Districts.

"Do you think you can do it?" I ask. He has to. I don't even want to think about the odds of Mark winning the actual Games - I don't even want him close to that victory.

[Jack Lexington]

[presto]

For a moment I sit and wonder whether Tyren is really going to help me while my eyes are glued on the bright white bandage around my not so bright fingers. They look like something Frankenstein put together.
Tyren could possibly help me but he could also feed me false information if he wanted to get back at me. For some reason I don't think he'd do that. I could always find out myself what Marks strengths and weakness are but I don't have a lot of time.

Something seems to be going through his head because his eyes are moving when I look back up.
"I didn't fight him, but I didn't need to. He practically told me everything."

"Yeah, he uses two swords. I don't expect he will be shy of coming close with those. My thoughts were when I used my bow were; He won't get close, it's fine. But you did, and that's where my weapon was then useless. With Mark, he'll have to get close, and you'll have to keep him at distance."
"Two swords." I mouth. Shit. Not many people are strong enough and skilled enough to swing two swords around but the ones who are are very dangerous.
"I will need to keep him at distance." I confirm with a nod.
Our conversation sort of comes back to our fight when he mentions that I know this already. I lower my gaze again because he's right.

"Do you think you can do it?" His question takes me by surprise.
I'm not sure what the answer is though. My first reaction is to give him a cocky. "Of course." It's what I've always said and done. Feeling like a winner is key to success but we all know where I am right now and where Mark is, probably drinink and celebrating somewhere while I sit around in a hospital.
"What do you think?" I resort to asking him. Not because his opinion will make me insecure or boost me but because I want to include him.
[/presto]

[Anatra]

"Well you beat me, and I've had the chance to kill him, so I'd go with; You can." I want to tell him how he has to, but the pressure could easily build. Though I don't know how he handles pressure. He could be anyone to me. I realize that I don't know him at all. The only thing we have to our names is experience and that was only that one time. The first time we met, I was simply new to the game. Now there's pieces on the board I find it difficult to measure where we stand. Of course, we're developing a friendship, but where will it end? When I leave the hospital?

I go on to tell him what happened between me and Mark. "It was after a training session. One of the trainers spoke to Mark and he took it the wrong way completely. He did something, I wasn't checking because I was unaware, but the next minute she's running out screaming about seeing things in the walls." I pause as somebody walks by, I lower my voice as their shadow runs across my face. "He tells me to grab a weapon and follow him, he was already holding his. I had to, who knows what he would have done otherwise? So I did, and all he wanted was to hunt outside the fences. On our way back in, a peacekeeper caught us. I dropped my bow and he dropped his sword but in a quick flash he had the peacekeeper's gun and had her in a headlock. I had my bow aimed right at his head."

"Could have shot."

"Should have shot."

I sigh to myself. "Sorry..." I laugh a little at the situation. "Got carried away. But seriously, he is dangerous but you can do it. If not for yourself you could always make him pay his debt for getting me caught by that peacekeeper."

[Jack Lexington]

MATTHEW DUNHAM

I listen intently to the story he tells me about going outside the fence with Mark. For a moment it seems like they were friends of some sort and I wonder whether he wants to set me up because they still are friends. But Tyrens face is honest. I believe his story.
A lot of people get caught wondering beyond the fence and end up in the dc. I've never met anybody why would take one in a headlock. That calls for the Gallows Pole.

This part almost interests me more than the pregames now because I'm still worried that I might winds up in the dc myself for what I've done to Jins, who's been messing with Ky.
"How did it end? You didn't shoot him but how did you two escape and what did he do afterwards?"
Tyren is right. Mark is tough shit. He'll cut a girls face because he's secretly in love with her and can't have her and I have no doubt that he'll do the same to me, if not worse. I think he stops at nothing. But I'm not far off.
"If I have a reason I can be just as bad as he is." I let Tyren know with dead serious expression.
And I mean worse than with Tyren. If my own life depends on it I'd kill him. If Ky's safety depends on it, I'll cripple him.
My eyes flicker to Tyrens neck, that's got a slightly discolored bandage on it as if I'm trying to say 'look what I've done to you and we have no beef.'
"What's his weakness?" I wonder because I need a way to tackle him.

[Anatra]

I see him figuring me out, whether I'm lying or not. I know that if I act normal he won't wrongly suspect, so I continue. "I'd just met the kid, and the peacekeeper would detain me regardless of my actions. What he did after I simply turned and left, I don't really know. I don't want to, really." I pause. "The next time I seen him he was in the arena. I can only assume the worst really."

"If I have a reason I can be just as bad as he is." My eyes land on him as though I have a duty to speak again. "I wouldn't stoop to his level. He clearly has some sick brain ticking away." I see him look to my bandage briefly. I can see what this simple gesture could mean. I see it as, maybe he's the sick one. I abandon my vengeful thoughts though, it isn't healthy to hold a grudge in District Two unless you're off to the Games - I am clearly not. "What's his weakness?" The question hits my battleship as I find myself unable to answer. I search for a moment, briefly. "Not sure, really. The only thing he told me about himself was that a lot of his family are poor and were unable to keep themselves from..." I leave that there, no need to clarify it. I feel for Mark, though. But I know that if I do, I'll end up putting myself in a dilemma that I won't be able to return from; being caught between two people's hatred for one and other. "You'll do fine though. And if not, well -" I pause, and put on a humorous smile; "Hospital care is decent enough. You won't be going far."

[Jack Lexington]

Tyren looks me staright in the eye when he explains. "I'd just met the kid, and the peacekeeper would detain me regardless of my actions. What he did after I simply turned and left, I don't really know. I don't want to, really. The next time I seen him he was in the arena. I can only assume the worst really." For a moment I’m not sure what he’s hinting at but then I get it. Mark must have killed the pk or made him or her disappear. I haven’t watched the news in a while because I’ve been busy training so I wouldn’t know.
“Really?” This is hard to believe,especially since I was ready to kill Jins for being the sick jerk he is but couldn’t get myself to.
Maybe Mark is different…harsher, sicker…than me.

"I wouldn't stoop to his level. He clearly has some sick brain ticking away.” He states and I approve with a nod. “He cut Kyanite right across the face scarring the poor girl for good. A girl!” If he at least had given a guy a scar like that but girls are so pretty…I surely wouldn’t go for one’s face. “It’s not like slashing her across the face will bring him lots of points…just sick satisfaction.” I swallow hard because I’m starting to harbour reallu angry feelings against the guy. We all know what happens when that dark feeling starts boiling in my chest…nothing good.

Tyren doesn’t seem to know any real weakness, at least not fighting skill wise but assures me that the hospital care here is great.
“I’m not planning on returning here.” I brag even though I know there’s a damn good chance since we both go into the last round with different health stats. He’s practically unharmed while I’m still here.
“You know that some kids haven’t made it to the hospital.” It’s a very dark chapter of the pregames…those few times that careers wound up dead. Tyren almost became one of them.
I need to lighten the mood so I clap him on the shoulder. “I’ll come back to visit you though of you’re still bunking here.”