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Wren

The next morning, Wren left her bed in the infirmary before anyone woke. She sat in a wooden chair, back straight, lips compressed, watching two patients. Mason dozed thanks to the morphine drip that made him loopy and Codey from the anesthesia delivered before the operation. She should be recovering in bed herself, not sitting vigil, but guilt hurt as much as her bandaged wounds. 

The stitches itched, and her ribs ached. She must have torn a stitch out because blood had trickled through the bandage. She'd have to find a nurse but didn't want to leave her boys yet. Mason was soon to be released. Codey had yet to wake after the operation. She hoped and prayed it had been successful. Her hand automatically went to the bird pendant around her neck, but that small movement hurt so much that Wren yelped.

She returned her hand to her side and took from her pocket the last note she received. "You had to get your father involved." She turned the paper over, examining it for clues. A fingerprint, a blood stain. She tried to analyze the handwriting. Nothing. But who could watch everything she did and eavesdrop on her private conversations? It made no sense.

She was aching and exhausted after a night of tossing and turning. The doctor had tried to give Wren pain medicine, but she refused. She had to remain alert and figure out who wanted to hurt her and her family. As she tried to take a deep breath, she wished she could rethink her decision about meds. Her ribs throbbed, her head ached, and her arm burned.

She sat in her desolate thoughts for another twenty minutes before Mason woke. Wren smiled in relief when their eyes met. "Hey, beautiful, don't you look lovely this fine morning? What happened to that face of yours?" He studied her bruises.

Wren resisted a scowl. "All in a day's work. Kicking Phantoms to the curb one ugly mechanical face at a time."

Mason laughed, but it came out as a series of small sputters. He turned serious when he took in the rest of her wounds. The wounds to her ribs were hidden under her top, but flakes of blood now dotted her clean, gray baggy hospital shirt. The bandage on her arm went from wrist to elbow.

"Nasty fight, no?"

"Don't want to relive it." Wren shook the memories away. "Tell me how you're doing?"

"I can go home tomorrow."

"That's great news."

"Was he worth it?"

"What do you mean?" She stalled for time. Someone must have told Mason the rest of the story about Codey. Most likely her mother.

"You know who I mean."

"Yes," she replied honestly.

Codey stirred. Wren shifted in her seat, telling the story. "His parents were arrested after we raided the archives. We're going to help him break them out." She rehashed Codey's story as they waited for him to show further signs of life.

But he slept on, oblivious to Wren's fear and guilt. After recounting his history, Mason beckoned her over to his bedside.

"Keep me company," he begged.

Wren yawned, exhausted. A few minutes next to him couldn't hurt.  She joined Mason, snuggling against her best friend in his small bed. His hand went to her shoulder, careful to avoid touching her still-raw wounds. 

Wren closed her eyes, listening for Codey to wake. 

Sleep overtook her like an avalanche. 

The next thing she knew, she woke groggy and confused to loud mumbling. 

"Where am I? What's going on?" Codey moaned, flummoxed, and sprung up, glancing at the around the room, eyes wide and anxious. "My head." He touched the bandages surrounding his skull.

Wren scurried from the bed to join him, carefully inching on the bed next to him. His long blond hair had been shaved into a crew cut because of the operation; a bandage plastered against his skull hid most of it.

"Hey, you're awake." Wren gently stroked his brow. "Who am I?"

Codey scrutinized every inch of her face. "Who are you? Where am I?"

That was concerning. "What do you remember?" Wren asked.

"My parents' arrest." He moaned in sudden pain.

"Are you okay?" Wren gently touched his hand. "Do you want me to call the doctor over?"

"No. I remember now. I'm at the rebel camp, right?" IV tubes snaked along his arm.

"Who am I?" she asked.

"Wren, rebel princess."

It was a lame joke, but she was happy he made it.

"I'm going to get my dad and the doctors. They'll want to make sure everything's okay." She pranced out of the room, her wounds feeling less heavy and painful.