Firefly ✔️

Assurance

I wake up in my bed, the blankets all piled on top of me. My muscles are stiff and ache when I move them. I did too much last night. My watch buzzes, and I suddenly realize what had awoken me. I check it to see three messages from Thatcher.

A spot in the operating room opened up. You're having your surgeries today.

I'll be coming to get you soon.

I'll be there in two minutes.

I jump out of bed, my stomach suddenly in knots. I'm having the surgeries now? I've had no time to mentally prepare. I feel queasy.

No time to shower. I pour a water bottle on a clean sock and scrub at the sweatiest parts of me, putting on deodorant and a fresh uniform just as a knock sounds at my door, followed quickly by Thatcher entering.

"Are you ready?"

I take my hair down from my ponytail, running my hands through it. I nod, biting my lip. Am I really ready?

"Are you nervous?"

My eyes meet his. So he noticed then. I shrug. "I've never had surgery. Not even been to a doctor outside of the Nest. I don't know how it'll go."

"Plus the surgeries you're getting done normally happen before puberty. I don't know if uterine surgery has ever been done on someone over the age of 12."

I look at him incredulously. He's right. I hadn't even thought of that. What if it goes wrong because I'm already an adult? Also, wasn't he supposed to be trying to cheer me up?

He places a hand on my head. "In hindsight, I probably shouldn't have said that. Luce is the best doctor you could ask for in this situation. She will make sure everything goes how it's meant to."

Luce. So he knows the doctor?

"Leave your hair down. The ponytail may get in the way. And you don't need shoes either." he adds as an afterthought.

I stop myself from bending down to get my boots.

"When's the last time you've eaten?"

I think back to last night. "Medadvance counts, right? If so, I was released around one this morning."

Thatcher nods. "Okay so it's been over 12 hours then. We'll get you food after the surgery. Come on." He beckons me out of the room and I follow, my bare feet cold on the white tile floor. I wring my hands together in the elevator. I hate this. I don't want to go in for surgery. My stomach flips. I don't like not having control.

"Don't be afraid. Luce knows what she's doing."

Why does my stomach seem to hurt worse when he calls her by her first name? Is it because he's never called me Soul? Not even once? He calls everyone else by their chosen names; everyone but me.

The hospital floor is bright and smells sterile, a smell I hadn't even noticed when I was here earlier. It's intimidating now, and I resist the urge to grab onto Thatcher's arm for reassurance. We reach a room and he ushers me inside. "Get in the gown and sit on the bed. I'll wait outside. Call for me when you're done." He closes the door, entrapping me in the white room. An equally white gown lays on the exam table.

I push aside my nerves. I don't really have the choice to not get the surgeries anyway. Quickly, I slip out of my clothes and into the thin paper gown. I kick my uniform into a corner so Thatcher won't see, then sit back up onto the table, calling him in. The gown is short, and his eyes land on my bare thighs when he enters, quickly moving up to my face. I'm thankful that I shaved recently. He moves to sit on the chair next to me just as the door opens, stopping him. Dr. Luce walks in, clipboard in hand, long, silvery hair loose around her shoulders. Her dark blue eyes sparkle when she sees Thatcher.

"Achio, it's so good to see you. It's been so long."

"Hey, Luce."

There is a warmth in his eyes that I didnt expect to see, and even more unexpected is the warm embrace they share. My chest seizes up suddenly, and a pit finds its way into my stomach. Why does this hurt?

She gives him a warm smile as they part, and her eyes find me. "Soul Youngblood. Long time no see." She grins. "Excited about your surgery?"

"Nervous, actually." I say, trying to put the scene I had just witnessed behind me, but the heaviness in my chest remains.

"Oh, don't be, Darling. Girls in the Capitol get this all the time."

"What's the success rate? In my case, since I'm older?"

Luce shares a knowing glance with Thatcher, who nods at her. She takes a deep breath. "Well, in standard cases, the uterine surgery is successful in 98% of girls under 12. However there isn't a lot of research done for people your age. There have been two cases of women in their late 30s, both unsuccessful, which leads us to believe that it gradually becomes less successful over time."

"What happened to those two women?"

"What happened isn't important." Thatcher interrupts. "You're young enough that you will be fine."

"Did they die?" I demand. "You know, don't you? Did they die?"

"They won't perform the surgery on anyone over the age of 30 now, or anyone with a concerning medical history."

"Thatcher, I don't have a medical history! We don't know anything about my body!"

"Hey!" His voice is raised. He places his hand on my exposed knee. "You'll be fine. Luce won't let anything happen to you."

I wish he would stop saying her name. I wish he would stop existing in the same space as her. I brush his hand away. "Fine. But if I die, I'm going to haunt you." I glare up at him, anger briefly replacing my fear.

"I'm the best in my field, Soul. Captain Gordon assigned me to you specifically because he knows I'm best qualified to take care of you. Can I check your vitals?"

Gordon assigned her to me? He trusts her with my life, then. I know he wouldn't do that halfheartedly.

I nod, still a little uncertain, still kind of pissed at Thatcher for no reason. She presses a cold stethoscope to my skin under the gown, sending a shiver through me. "Your heart is beating quickly. Are you still scared?"

I look away, unwilling to admit it to her.

"You'll be fine, Love." She continues checking my vitals. "Okay, you're all set." She takes a folded wheelchair from behind the door, opening it up. "Sit down in here and we'll get you all drugged up before going in."

Drugged up. So this is it. Once they put me to sleep, I may never wake back up.

Thatcher moves toward the door. "I'll get going then and let you two handle it from here."

He's leaving me? Without my direction, my hand darts out, grabbing his wrist in a death grip. He looks back at me curiously, and I bite my lip hard, looking down as tears spring to my eyes. Stupid. My cheeks flush in embarrassment, but I don't let go. He can't leave me. "If you want me to stay, I will." His voice is soft, and I hold onto that tenderness.

"Yes, please, Sir."

"Alright. Let's get you into your chair then." He takes my arm and helps me off the table.

I sit in the cold chair, the backs of my thighs on the cold plastic fabric.

"Okay, Soul, I'm going to have you hold this over your face." Dr. Luce holds up a cup to go over my mouth and nose. It's connected by a hose to a large tank. "You'll hold it there and breathe deeply three to five times before passing out. Achio will then hold it there a little longer to make sure you're fully gone before we wheel you in and put you under a more thorough anesthetic, okay?"

I nod, taking the cup in my hand. I take a worried glance at Thatcher, who nods for me to do as she says. I suddenly feel like I'm third wheeling, or like a child imposing on two teenagers in love.

I put the cup to my face, taking one breath after another. I'd rather be out cold than witnessing any more of this. The gas hits me on the third one, causing my eyes to cross. I feel Thatcher's calloused fingers take the cup from my hand, so I reach out, grabbing his shoulder. "Stay." Tears prick at my eyes. "Please."

"I'll be here when you wake up."