this is not heaven's waiting room [flynn wake up]

[d6a georgie cham 🍓🐢 frankel]

Everything burns, from my fingertips to my toes. There is no other sensation but that. Burning and complete darkness. That is, it. Is this what death is like then? I have my mind working things out but a body that is on fire. Yeah, I am dead. Maybe Lenox snuck in a cheeky last stab with the spear, or the septic shock hit me like a nuclear bomb.

There is nothing. Nothing is working but a brain that is going tens of thousands of miles per hour. Just wake up Flynn! Just try and wake up!

I am still alive!

That is the last thing I remember my mouth shouting. A cracking, aching, sore throat that felt like I swallowed knives. I just need to try and say it again. I just need to try and put out the flames and see again.

”I a.” There is something working. It is coming, maybe I am waking up in hell but there is definitely something working.

”I am st…” Come on Flynn you idiot. It is not hard this. I have fought through lucid dreams before, it cannot be any harder. Just wake up dammit!

”I am still alive?” It is barely a whisper, I can hardly hear it myself. The voice that spoke sounds so far away and sounds like it has smoked fifty cigarettes a day. But there is a voice there, a voice I can barely hear but it is there. Am I going to wake up and see Nan? Or am I going to wake up and see dad and mom? One or the other will prove if this is death or life tapping on my forearm right now.

Where are my eyes? I never hurt my eyes. They need to reveal the world I am in. I might still be on the nuclear floor or in a comfy wool stuffed warm bed. There is comfort. I can feel it. For the first time everything is so soft. Not a squelchy land and my head resting against a bumpy rucksack. Is it really a pillow I can feel?

I need to see this comfortable world where I have been sent to. Maybe it is heaven and not hell after all.

Then comes the flood of light, slowly battling the darkness that I was slowly growing to know. It is all so pure, so bright. Is that a ceiling a light?

This is not heaven.

I know my hospital rooms.

”Dad? Mom?” Everything starts to hit me like a tidal wave. There is a ringing in my right ear, a beep beep beep. In my left ear? Nothing. Then my hands go on a frantic search, patting down my other limbs and then hitting the metal bars at the side of the bed. ”Nan?”

My body jolts up like a cork firing out of a champagne bottle. My eyes, they finally adjust to everything in the bright ivory room. I am not alone but it is not dad, it is not mom, and it is definitely not Nan. Teddy Ursa and…that other one. The neighbour victor. Mackenzie Pryce.

”I am alive.” I slowly reunite my head to the pillow. It is true. My lungs are free from the poison. My mind is free from the torment. I am alive. Now just let me take a nap.

credit to dars

[Kingston Cesaire D3A [Tom]]

The world was watching him.

A whole eleven years of being watched over and over again with millions of eyes burning through his skin. Finding his place in the world wasn't easy, but he tried his best to make amends with his scars. No one believed in him, especially not Six. Every year, he's gotten accustomed to burying child after child; shaking hands with mourning parents and siblings as if he could ease away any of the pain there. Hidden behind their eyes, he could see the sorrow and the anger. Pieces of the ghosts they left behind underneath the loss of their family and friend. Fear burns through his heart; Lux had told him he wouldn't survive with it and some days he believed her. His heart had always been on his sleeve, scarred and burnt to nothing, but he repaired it every year with tears and hope for another day of breathing.

This year had been different. A new desire to push himself with the chains of his own creation gone. The ghosts were still there, but he was finding his own forgiveness and building himself back up once more. Fingers dipping into his pockets, pulling out the notepad he's brought back from the dead with notes for himself. Watching the tributes before him grow and grow, making it past day three, the training center felt different. Teddy Ursa wasn't one to jinx it, but he felt different about this games compared to the past decade of games. Star would walk past with comments about how his tributes were doing, always smiling with those pleasant looks, but her eyes always told a different story.

People were waiting for him to break.

On the fourth day, Syren Steele died. A capitolite told him in passing at a Sponsorship Gala, unblinking and waiting for Teddy Ursa's breakdown. His own fingers tightening on the notepad and pencil in his grip, until he softened, relaxing his jaw and shoulders. A smile plastered on in the fakest of forms before he felt a vile feeling of trying to play off the comment smoothly. Escaping the Gala, he had grounded himself the best way he can. Visiting Saffron Lowe for a glass of wine and to hear about the kids always seemed to put him at ease. A phone call to Pan to check up on Georgie and him. A visit with Ky Earnest, catching up on what's going on in his life. Every day passes by with fear and the taste of knowing he'll have to go home and shake hands with Syren Steele's family; pretending like he isn't stressed about having to attend another funeral. It's in Syren's death where Teddy finds his angle and where to get support for Flynn Garner.

Days pass by and there's enough worry in his veins to make Star look up at him with that glint in her eyes. She's forced him to a photoshoot the day before, which he shined in, but he's grown used to the fame he carries. The world was watching Teddy Ursa as Silk Le Roux, the career everyone loved fought hard to make it out alive. Every day, he watched with careful eyes until he saw her die and the top eight came. Flynn made it to the last days and Teddy could feel the air shift with an unusual tension. Part of him knew he couldn't get his hopes up. He couldn't break again after Walter Blake and be back in that broken state of feeling hopeless and useless once more. A deep breath as the day passes by and Teddy pushes on.

On the day of the finale, there was a dead silence on Six's floor. Star was nearby within arm's reach, Teddy invited Mack, and everything was set out to be a tense one. His hands following his glass everywhere, but never pulling it to his lips. A close fight between Seven and Six, his heart in his throat the entire time. Words passed between the two in the downpour and Star's got a grip on arm. The feeling of worry drowns him, but he stares openly at the screen, until he can hear it on the screen. A gunshot that rang around the room, fingers shaking, heart in his throat, tears swallowing him whole. Star's the one to reach over and squeeze his shoulder in congrats.

It's been a few days since Star had congratulated him. Flynn would be allowed visitors soon. The world was watching to see his next move. Flynn Garner, Victor of the Eighty Seventh Hunger games. No longer would Teddy Ursa be alone in the district filled with bodies. Flynn had broken every expectation of the capitol, but Teddy Ursa could remember the feeling of being so alone after making it out. The feeling of drowning in the limelight and Lux's haunting dead eyes filling his heart with fear.

Flynn wouldn't be alone in this. The world would watch, but Teddy was going to be there for the kid. A silence fills him before he looks to an avox passing by, ignoring the look he was getting as he shoves the notepad away and staring at the white walls. Mackenzie had wanted to come with him to greet Flynn when he woke up; worry had burned through his mind at the thought of Mackenzie being upset of Flynn coming back over Lennox. The worry had died down after he let the irrationality of the thought disappear. Mackenzie was his friend. Hell, he was one of his best friends out of the victors. Mackenzie wouldn't be upset about someone fighting to live. They've all done it. The thought still doesn't stop him from asking the question out loud.

"You gonna be okay?"

Eyes peering towards Mackenzie as he rubs at the seam of his pants. An unspoken worry in the back of his head before he looks up to see Flynn Garner hooked up to machines. The calm beeping of the heart monitor next to him giving life to Teddy's ears. Home was filled with rooms like these. The beeping of heart monitors having been in his dreams as a kid when growing up surrounded by nurses and patients. He's gotten one back home. The truth was none of it has quite set in for him. Fear of waking up to this being nothing more than a good dream, but he knew he couldn't celebrate. Flynn and his own next few weeks would be filled with chaos and a victory tour through the districts. Eyes would be on the both of them at all times and Flynn would be under the spotlight of the capitol.

Sardonyx had already reached out for an interview with the newest victor from Six. A silence fills him as he glances over to Mackenzie, eyes trying to read what his friend was thinking. Instead, he looks back to Flynn before pulling his chair closer, letting himself sit at enough of a distance to let the kid breathe. A worry builds in his chest as he knew there'd be scars to match his own. Pieces of ghosts haunting behind eye so young. Flynn was only thirteen with a life ahead of him, but there'd always be pieces of his ghosts around him. Teddy knew the feeling. The feeling of the past swallowing him up whole. Instead of letting his head wander in that direction, he stills before gently tapping Flynn, fingers brushing the kid's hair off of his face, avoiding his ear before pulling back.

"Dad? Mom?" The sound of Flynn's hands hitting the metal bars shakes Teddy. A silence in the room before he can hear the single name. "Nan?" Chester had been the first name out of his lips when he woke up. Wishing to have gotten to be held by him once more, but Teddy Ursa had survive. Seven had another grave and Teddy Ursa had let a piece of his heart rest there with Chester. There's a brief second of panic in Flynn's eyes until they're seen by the boy. Teddy Ursa had known it wasn't going to be easy to see Flynn, broken, but healing. A relief had washed over him at the sight, knowing he'd done all he could for the kid and got him home. No, Flynn had gotten himself home. Teddy had guided him in what he could to get him back.

"I am alive."

Flynn is alive.

Teddy can feel his own heartbeat rising in his chest as he wants to shed tears for the young kid, but he stays silent. Words can only heal so much and Teddy knew there wasn't much he could say right now to him. Eyes looking back to Mackenzie for a moment as he wondered what Jacinta had told him when he first woke up back in the capitol. Home. Flynn was home with them. A soft smile on his lips as Teddy keeps his hands together on his knees leaning a little forward, giving the best comforting presence he can. Worry deep in his chest as he swallows it down with the fear of what could happen and how scarred is Flynn, instead he looks forward and speaks with as much conviction as he has.

"You're alive, Flynn."

Parson would call him a baby, but there's some tears desperately trying to form, but Teddy Ursa's forcing himself not to cry in front of Flynn. He's already cried happy tears with Star on their floor before telling her to make sure to avoid overwhelming Flynn with anything too stressful like they did with him when he won. The sound of the beeping monitor only making it harder for him to hold back the tears, but he does as he looks back to the kid. Smaller than he looked on the screen from days ago. Too young to have gone through something as traumatic as the games, but he takes a deep breath knowing this was a start. Flynn Garner fought to live.

Teddy Ursa would make damn sure he lived well after fighting as hard as he did.

"You're home."