Untold Stories- The 65th Hunger Games

by charstar548

Summary:

This is a Hunger Games fanfiction from Finnick Odair's perspective.
There will be spoilers for all the Hunger Games books (Hunger Games, Catching Fire, Mockingjay, Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes and Sunrise on the Reaping)
Because a lot of the stuff is Pre-Canon, I had to make some things up.

It'll go to the Reapings in Four all the way to... the events that pass during Mockingjay that we do not speak of!

Trigger Warnings: Blood, Gore, Death, Child Death, Murder, Torture, Mentions of Suicide, Suicide, Prostitution, Mentions of Rape, Forced Prostitution, Sexualization of Minors, Underage Drugs/ Alcohol Usage, Child Labor and Homophobia!

Happy Reading!

Any Non - Canon Lore is connected to Jaanaur_AK's There's No One Left That I Love, highly recommend u check that out :))))

Chapter 1: Salt & Silence

I swear under my breath as the fish darts away from the trident. It's the twelfth I've missed today, which must be an all time low. At least I have an excuse, I suppose. The Hunger Games.
A splash of water to my left shakes me out of my trance. I look up, slightly bewildered, only to see my father shaking his head at me.
"Nervous, are you?" He asks, his voice gentle as it always is. I can only nod. He trudges through the shallow water and drapes a sun kissed arm around my shoulders. I'm tall for my age, so it's a little bit of a stretch for him, but it comforts me all the same.
"There's only three slips in there, bud. The odds are, for once, in our favor." He rumbles, his voice almost mimicking the waves. I nod feverently, staring down at the water. It laps at my ankles, almost like an embrace. It's comforting me, too.

"Hey, Fin, why are you lazing around like a blobfish? There's food to be caught, and I think I saw a turtle over here!" The slightly less comforting voice of my best friend, Kelton, echoes across the bay of the ocean.
He's less lucky in the family department than I, after his mother was killed in a boating accident two years back. This means he likes to tag along with me and my father when we fish, as his works in the government. Although I don't mind, it's times like this that I fantasize about holding him under until the bubbles stop. With love, though, of course.

With a roll of my eyes, I turn in his direction.
" A turtle? Are you sure it's not your reflection that you're seeing?" I call back, sticking my tongue out at him.
Kelton begins to run towards me, his usual quick pace slowed by the resistance of the water.
"I'm going to turn you into fish food, Odair!" he threatens. I arch a brow as his makes his way over, comically slow. My father raises his hands in surrender.
"Hey, hey. No one's getting turned into fish food. It's time to get all pretty for the cameras, anyways." He interjects. Kelton rolls his eyes.
"Not that Fin needs it."
"Aww, Kelton, are you calling me pretty?" I mock him, dashing out of the water and leading the way back to the little hut right on the beach that my family owns. Kelton's hot on my trail, promising all sorts of nefarious things when he catches me, but skids to a stop when my mother looms out of nowhere, hands on her hips.
"Oh! Hi, Mrs. Odair. We were just coming to get reading for the reaping." He stammers, giving her a sweet smile. My Mother frowns.
"You tracked in what looks like the entire ocean, boy." She scolds, cuffing him on the head lightly with her hand. Kelton smiles.
"Sorry 'bout that." She makes a sound of disbelief.
"That's a load of bullshit, but fine. Go get ready quickly, and maybe I'll let you have some sea-salt loaf."
Kelton salutes before marching up the stairs to my room.
"Man, your Mother's great." he sighs happily. I smile back at him, happy to see him happy. He's essentially my brother, at this point, and I'd say he spends three quarters of his time at our house. Mother considers him a second son, which is just what Kelton needs.

Considering we're fourteen year old boys, we don't spend much time preparing for the Reaping ceremony. Kelton's got a rich-ass Father, so he has no need for Tesserae. My family's large enough that we can provide for ourselves without needing help from the Capitol. The odds of either of us getting picked are low. But not zero, never zero- which is why I've dragged him to training with me the past two years. Just a little bit. Just enough that if, God forbid, he was reaped, he might have a chance. A fighting chance.
Being from District Four, our odds are slightly higher than some others, as we're considered a Career district. But since Kelton and I are only 14, our odds of surviving is still terribly low. But still. A fighting chance.

After twenty minutes of messing around with hair gel and teasing each other about how ridiculous we look in our stuffy reaping outfits, we step out of my room. Mother's waiting with the sea-salt loaf, frowning at me.
"Christ, Fin, did you even brush your hair?" I roll my eyes.
"Yes..." I did not brush my hair- actually I just launched the brush at Kelton's head. She sighs.
"Your head looks like a rat's nest. They'll get pissed off if you don't look good. Kel, go fetch me the brush." She orders.
Kelton is smart enough to obey my mother at all costs. Disobeying her is not a good thing to do, especially if you want to live another day.
Which is why I allow her to brush my hair, hold my tongue as she rips through the knots, and oblige her in a hug before we leave.

My father, mother, Kelton and I begin to walk through the streets of district four. As always, it reeks of salt and fish, a smell I've come to love. I spy several classmates making their way to the center of town as well, all dolled up as well. I smile at a few, and ignore a lot more than a few.
"How come Annie dislikes you, again?" Kelton demands of me, referencing the feisty girl a year younger than us. I shrug.
"Apparently I'm a cocky pufferfish." I explain. I'm not sure what I did to deserve that particular title, but since it came out of Annie Cresta's mouth, I suppose I'll take it.
Kelton pretends to think. "I don't think she's ever said a truer word."
Several explicit words are on the tip of my tongue, but before I can get myself grounded for weeks, we're interrupted by the harsh growl of a Peacekeeper. We've reached the center of town, and Kelton and I need to go stand with the other fourteen year olds.
"You lot, with the others. You two, no further than this." I despise the rude tone in which he speaks to my mother, and if it were any other day, any other place, I probably would have given him a piece of my mind. But Mother gives me a warning glance before I can run my mouth, and so, grumbling, I allow myself to be led away.
Up on the stage is our escort, a ridiculous woman with an even more ridiculous name. Celestine Laurent wears a dress embroidered with pearls and seashells, likely an homage to our marine district. She likes her job well enough, considering the amount of victors we pump out, which must be the cause for her enthusiasm.
"Welcome, Welcome, to the District Four reaping for the 65th annual hunger games!" she titters, toying with a braided marine wig on her head. Kelton sends me a long suffering glance as Celestine continues to yap away about the Treaty of Treason, et cetera, et cetera.
There's no mention of the fact that all this was, you know, 65 years ago. Or how none of us being reaped had anything to do with it. Or the fact that maybe if the Capitol treated us like humans, we wouldn't have rebelled in the first place. Nope, Celestine's annual speech and little video make the Capitol seem like a long-suffering mother desperately trying to get her 12 naughty children in line.
Of course, these thoughts stay on the inside, because if I were to utter them, my back would get sliced open like a salmon on a tray. We may be a Career district, but that doesn't mean misbehavior is ignored, or non-existent. It's just less common.
When it gets to a point that I'm surprised she still has a voice, Celestine totters towards the clear glass bowl that holds the names of the tributes.
She giggles to herself. "As always, Ladies first!"
Now, I may not have any sisters, but it doesn't mean I don't feel sick as she mixes the thousands of paper slips with aquamarine nails. (I'm sensing a theme here. Either her favorite color is blue, or she's really, really obsessed with keeping with the water theme. I wonder if she knows that, most of the time, the ocean's either navy or a shade of green, and that's only because of the sky?)
She takes her sweet time, as she always does, just enough to get everyone in the crowd's stomachs lurching. Finally, finally, she snags one from about halfway deep.
I'm not sure what's worse- her actually calling the name, or the sick feeling of anticipation, of not knowing. I hate it, hate it, hate it. Kelton beside me clearly does, too.
"Open the fucking paper." He hisses under his breath. I nod agreement, and Solomon Tidra, a boy in our class a foot away, turns to Kelton with an exasperated sigh.
"I'm going to go up there and rip that thing out of her hands." He mutters. Kelton muffles a laugh, but he shuts up when Celestine clears her throat into the microphone.

"The Girl Tribute from District 4 is..... Caprice Cresta!" There's a general sort of distraught murmuring through the crowd, both Kelton and I among them. Though I don't know her well, Caprice is a 17 year old three grades higher than us. She's Annie's big sister, and unlike her fiery relative, Caprice is very likely the sweetest person I know. The crowd parts for her and Caprice stumbles up towards the stage, trembling. Annie, who's just to our left in the girl's section, has turned an alarming shade of white. Kelton swears under his breath, and I feel sick. I can't stand this thing. Celestine greets Caprice with a big smile.
"Excellent, Excellent. Stand right here, dear..." She positions the shaking girl in front of the bowl from which her name was drawn. And now it's our turn. Kelton grabs my hand, and I let him have it. He hates the reaping, hates it. He would have had a sister if not for the games. If she hadn't been called up in the fiftieth games, when double the tributes were called. She'd been so close to winning, too. Third place, but torn to shreds by mutations. Golden squirrels. Well, third place, according to the reruns I watched. Fifth, according to his parents. I'm not sure which is true, but either way, she was close.
"Now for the boys." I'm not sure if Celestine realizes that Caprice is in danger of fainting or is just getting bored of this whole endeavor, but she's mercifully quick as she draws a slip from the boys' bowl. She brings in back to her microphone, opens it with a quiet sound of tape ripping, and reads it aloud.

"Finnick Odair."

Chapter 2: Beneath the Depths

Summary:

The train taking them to the Capitol- potential spoilers for Sunrise on the Reaping and Ballad of Songbirds and snakes ig.

"Finnick Odair."

 

It takes me a moment to remember that's me. No one really calls me Finnick- I'm Fin to my friends, Nick to my mom sometimes, and FINNICK ELIAS ODAIR To my mother when she's mad. But never Finnick Odair.
Kelton turns to me, eyes wide. He begins to cry.
"No, Fin, I can't lose you too. No. No, please!" I grab his forearms and press my forehead against his.
"Kelton, listen to me. No, listen. You're going to be okay. My family will protect you. Just try to calm down, or they'll put your reaction on the television for everyone to see." I mutter under my breath.
I don't wait to see if he's obeyed me. I don't have time. Like they always do when someone so young is reaped, the crowd murmurs their displeasure. Trying valiantly not to shake, I try to make my way up the stage. I take my place silently in front of the globe, and give Caprice a warm smile. I try my very best to zone Celestine out, instead trying to locate my Mother and Father in the crowd.
Considering the sheer vastness of District Four, you'd think this would be a hard task. But we're a tight knit district, and there are two thick clumps- one group of people gathering around Ms. and Mr. Cresta, another around Mother and Father. I lock my eyes with my Mother, looking into the green gaze that so resembles my own. I watch, transfixed, as a single tear rolls down her face. Salty as the sea.
"Do we have any volunteers?" Celestine's voice is hopeful- Caprice and I aren't the most promising of Tributes, with my being a child and her shaking like a leaf. It's not unusual for District Four to have volunteers- the cocky ones, the ones who've trained who think they can win and sometimes do, the desperate ones going to save their siblings or friends. But this year, this day- the only sound that can be heard is the distant rumble of the waves on the shore.
A relief, honestly, because if Kelton had volunteered for me, I'd probably fall into pieces. Watching him die, knowing that it was to take my place... I'd rather be slaughtered in the arena.
Celestine sighs. "Well, then, let's have a round of applause for the tributes of District Four!" No one claps. They behold my youth, they remember my laughing as I dash down the streets with Kelton at my side, and they stay silent. They see Caprice's scared face, they remember watching her bandage up someone's scraped knee, and they don't move. That's how I know- even though we're Careers, even if we train, even if we're luckier than other districts, even if some of us are rotten- we're not Capitol. We're a school of fish. There's nothing we can do but watch if a shark lunges in to kill a bunch, but we're sure as hell not going to applaud it.
Celestine's used to our silence, though, as it's got to be her tenth year here. She just turns to me and Caprice.
"Shake hands, tributes." I reach forwards to grasp her palm in mine. It's calloused, likely from years of wielding a trident, but it's friendly, too. I won't be able to kill her, and she won't be able to harm me. Two fish in a school, we are.

That's really the last thing I remember from the Reaping. Celestine talks and talks for a solid twenty minutes, but again I ignore her, locking in on Kelton's face. Then Mother again. Then Father's.
When it comes time to say our goodbyes, my parents are up first. I run into my Mother's arms, relishing the strength in her grip and the salty tang that clings to her skin.
"Oh, love, I'm so sorry." She murmurs, gently running her fingers through the bronze of my hair.
"I'm so scared, Mom." My voice breaks, and I dig my fingers in harder, harder.
"Oh, darling, I know. I know. It's going to be okay, you'll see. You know, we'll always be together. A nice big beach, with fish aplenty. That's where we'll all end up. We'll swim all day and eat without fear of going hungry, and we'll all be together. How does that sound to you, huh? How does that sound, love?" Her voice is a lullaby, twirling round my ears like a droplet of water.
"Yeah." I whisper, exhaling loudly. It's a pretty picture in my head, that perfect beach, and I'll use it as a lifeboat to keep me afloat.
"Yeah." Father's arms wrap around us both, and I feel drops of water landing on my head.
"You're a good boy, Fin. My good, brave boy. I'm so proud of you, you know that? So, so proud. You'll always be here in my heart, okay? We love you so much."
"I love you, too, Dad. Mom." We stay like that for the rest of our time, wrapped in each other's arms. I find comfort in the rough skin on their palms, the coarseness of their hair, the starchy feel of their clothes. It's perfectly, uniquely them, and I never, ever want to move.
Of course, the odds weren't in my favor on that particular wish.
Moments later, they are tugged away by Peacekeepers. Letting out an animalistic screech, I reach desperately for them.
"No... please don't take them-" I beg the man in white, who's mask covers his face. Is he a parent? Does he have a child? Does it break his heart, does it hurt him a little, to see me like this? To see a child being ripped from their family? Maybe I can bargain for more time.
"Plea-" But it's too late, and the door slams.
I huddle desperately on the floor, hugging my knees like I hugged my family moments ago.

I will never see my parents again.

I will never see them again.

A new pair of arms wrap around me, and, afraid it's Celestine or a Peacekeeper here to take me, I writhe. Instead I hear Kelton.
"Fin, it's me." He's shaking just as much as Caprice, sounding petrified. I turn to him.
"Fin, please, try to win. I need you. I've already lost one sibling to this- this game, and I can't lose another. I need you." He begs me, eyes locking on my face. I try my best to remember every detail of him- The dark curls, the blue of his eyes, the freckles dotting his forehead and cheeks, the tiny blemishes dotting his nose.
"I'll try, Kel." I promise. "I'll try." He seems to pounce on my words.
"We've trained. You know how to use spears, and knives, and tridents. Prove to the other tributes, prove to the Gamemakers that you know how to use them. If you can get into the Career pack, you'll be a lot safer." He's right and I know it, but the problem is my age.
"I'll try, Kel, but I'm young. Too young." He shrugs. "But you're strong, and you're smart. Plus you're- plus you're pretty-" I crack a smile at that, mirrored on the face of my brother.
"-and the pretty ones always get sponsored."
"You're saying to dazzle the Capitol with my looks?" I tease.
But his response is dead serious. "Exactly." I think about that one.
"I'll try." I say again. He looks slightly sated.
"Oh, God, Fin." He grabs me in a tight hug and squeeze him back.
"Don't let them turn you into someone you're not." He whispers. "Never change, Fin Odair."
I smile into his embrace.
"Why would someone ever change perfection?"
He smiles for the first time in our little session.
"Annie Cresta was right. You are a cocky pufferfish."
My smile dissipates. "I'm not going to be able to hurt Caprice." I breathe. Kelton studies my face, seeing the truth in my eyes.
"I wouldn't be able too, either. But there's twenty four of you. The odds are she'll be dead before you have to hurt her." he scowls as he says it, as if hating the rotten things coming out of his mouth.
"I don't want anyone to hurt her. Do you think the Careers would take her in?"
"Not if they saw her little scene on stage." He says reluctantly. I scowl as well. He is, unfortunately, right.

I hear a bang on the door and I know he's going to be taken away.
"Stay strong, Kel." I yell as they drag him away.
"Try, Fin, Try. Please!" He cries in response, cursing and hitting at the Peacekeeper that holds him. On a regular day, I'd be anxious that he'd get whipped. But no one really cares about... whatever Kel's doing - on Reaping Day, since it makes for good footage.

I return to my position on the floor, before zeroing in on my shoe. I find it's calming to untie it, tie it, untie it again.
It reminds me of making nets for the fish. I furl my lace into a boating knot, a noose, a kind of snare, again and again and again until my fingers quiver. With each yank, I can banish another thought.
Kelton's going to get himself arrested. Gone. I am going to die in the next month. Gone. Caprice will die and there's nothing I can do to stop it. Gone.
I'm significantly calmer when I hear another knock on the door. There's no one else who cares enough about me to come visit, so I stand, expecting
Peacekeepers.

I'm greeted with a much prettier sight- Annie Cresta. I blink in surprise. Is she going to coming to insult me? Perhaps to beg me to help her sister win?
"Annie?" I ask, tentative. She steps in and meets my gaze.
"Fin. Team up with her?" she pleads. I instantly know what she means.
"In the games? Of course." I was planning on doing so anyway, it's no trouble.
Her shoulders drop, seemingly relieved.
"Anything else?" I ask, slightly confused. Why would she come in here just for that?
"Yes." She whispers. "When she dies-" I make a sound of protest, and Annie scowls at me.
"When she dies, because she will- she won't kill anyone, Fin- bring her back to the water." I frown at her.
"Like... in the arena?"
"Yes." She breathes. "Water's connected, you know. Find an ocean, a stream, a river, I don't care. But when my sister dies, bring her to the water so I can be with her one last time."

I pause for a second. Sea green eyes meet my own, and I then... I understand. I nod once, letting her know, and Annie smiles at me.
"Thank you, Fin." She shoots towards me and wraps me in a tight hug. "Thank you." A second later, she steps away, before striding out. I'm too dumbfounded to continue my knot-tying, my brain turning a mile a minute.
Annie Cresta just hugged me. Which, you know, shouldn't be the only thing I can think about, considering my imminent death, but I suppose I'm a teenage boy and these things are shocking to us.
And I'm not going to complain, it's an excellent way to keep my mind on the positive side. So as the Peacekeepers come to take me away, I focus on the wave of Annie's brown hair, the smell of limes and the sea and all things summer that clung to her, the gratefulness in her eyes.... I am a teenage boy. These things are shocking to us.

Unfortunately, I'm forced to come to my senses on the train. Now is a good time to discuss strategy with our mentors, and I've promised Kel I'll try.
Although there have been many, many winners hailing from District Four, we've only two mentors- A brutish man in his twenties who volunteered some years back and a old-ish woman with greying hair. I recognize them both- The man is Callen, who won his games by joining the Career pack and backstabbing (literally) all of them, and Mags, who won an early games (11th, unless I'm very much mistaken.) I can't recall many stories about Callen, but I remember Mags mentored the second ever District 12 victor. Considering the improbability of that, I figure she must be somewhat decent at her job.
Caprice is already sitting at the almost disgustingly lavish table, feasting on some sort of pastry. I settle down in the chair next to her, and Callen makes a snorting sound.
"Unfortunate Reap this year, eh, Mags?" He comments. I glare at him, maintaining eye contact as a I spear a fish through the head, slice it's head off, and then cut myself a bite to eat.
His eyes widen slightly. "Well, maybe not." He amends. Mags glares at him.
"It's an unfortunate Reap every year, Callen." She hisses. "These are Children." She turns to look at Caprice and I.
"I'm very sorry about... this, you two." She speaks to us in a much kinder tone than the one she addressed at her partner. Caprice smiles at her.
"S'alright, Mags." She mumbles through the fritter. Mags frowns.
"It's not alright, but I can promise I'll try my very best to help get you out." Oh, I like her already. She turns to me.
"Finnick, right?" I frown, considering. I've always been just Fin... But if I'm going to win these games, I need people to recognize me, and it would probably be confusing if I started going by another name.
So I just nod.
"And Caprice?" My fellow tribute nods as well. Mags nudges Callen, who starts.
"Oh, yeah. Nice to meet you, I suppose. Excuse me if I don't cozy up to you lot too much- you're probably not going to be around for much longer." He says, his voice slightly slurring. I'm not sure if he's had too much to drink or if he's just insane, but if he's a victor of the hunger games I don't think anyone would blame him if it was the former.

Mags rolls her eyes. "Ignore him, please. Now, let's talk. Before we begin with strategy, what is it that you want in these games?" The obvious answer is to survive, but I don't think that's what she means.
"I don't want to change." I say aloud, thinking of Kelton. Callen and Caprice frown, but Mags nods in understanding.
"God, Finnick, you remind me of someone." She sighs, almost to herself. I cock my head to the side.
"Who?" Mags starts.
"Oh, nothing, dear. Just thinking out loud. Now, Caprice, what do you want?" Caprice lifts her chin.
"I'm not going to kill anyone." She declares. Callen bangs his fists on the table.
"It's killed or be killed, Caprice. You say that now, but you'll be guns a blazing in the arena." She stares at him, eyes hard and firm for what might be the first time in her life.
"I am not going to kill anyone." She repeats. Callen looks like he's going to protest again, but Mags sends him a lethal glare. It reminds me so, so much of my mother that I almost begin to cry again. Except I'm not sure I can.
Mags turns back to Caprice and nods. "I can respect that. Now, onto strategy. Since we're from District Four, you might have a chance of joining the Career Pack, especially if you can dazzle them with your skills. Have you trained beforehand?"
"Yes." I say, remembering hours of learning how to throw my trident, how to use a knife, how to spear something (or someone) through.
Caprice scowls. "A little bit. " She spits out. It's not surprising. Most kids - and by most I mean all excluding maybe four- train for the Hunger Games. Some, like Kelton, and seemingly Caprice, are forced to do so by family or friends, just in case.
Others, like me, do so out of enjoyment. Not that I like the idea of stabbing people, but like tying those knots, there's something soothing about handling a trident. Besides, training's not just fighting. I also know how to light a fire, although that particular skill can be risky in the arena, and I'm kind of rusty on it anyhow. There's not much flammable, dry wood in a marine district, you see.

Mags nods again, thoughtfully this time.
"Are either of you any good at anything in particular?"
I consider for a second. In comparison to Kelton, I'm excellent. Frankly, in comparison to most of the boys my age and some older than me, I'm excellent. But I'm not sure how that compares to the tributes from 1 and 2. The recaps of the Reapings haven't played yet, but I can make an educated guess that their tributes will be massive, trained, and anywhere from two to four years older than I.
Keeping all that I mind, I shrug.
"I'm decent with the trident, knives and spears." I'm too small to accurately wield a sword, the one time I tried to shoot a bow and arrow I stabbed myself, and axes scare me.
Callen smiles at me. "Oh, good. The Careers'll probably take the boy- even though you're, what? Fourteen? They need good fighters and they don't have a good enough advantage if there's only four of them."
It's the first kind thing he's said to either Caprice or I, and I smile slightly. Kelton was right- I am safer with the Careers, since it means they're not actively hunting me down.
Mags turns her gaze to Caprice. "And you?" She looks away.
"Knots." She mutters. "I'm good with knots."

Most people in District Four are, as we have to tie nets for the fish. But that's not the only kind of knot- Nooses, snares, you name it, can be very useful in the arena.
Callen snorts. "Quite the deadly weapon, knots. Maybe the other tributes will die of shock when they see how prettily you can tie a bow."
"Or maybe she'll rig up a snare that will strangle someone to death." I shoot back. Callen's eyes widen again.
"Fair enough, fair enough, little boy. We'll work to get y'all in the Career pack. Might be difficult after they see the recap, but if the two of you kick ass in training, get yourself scores above eight, I don't think it'll be too tricky." He muses.

It's good news, I try to remind myself. I am NOT vehemently opposed to the idea of banding together with a pack of bullies in order to hunt people down. Not in the slightest.

Mags grimances. "For once, he's right. Caprice, don't mention your objection to killing others in front of the other Careers. Spend time at the knot-tying station as much as you can. Finnick, try to play up your skills, tell them how sponsors will be intrigued by someone so young being so skilled. You need to impress the other tributes, so shy away from stations where you might appear more mediocre."
Caprice's scowl grows. "Are we sure we want to be in the Career pack?" She demands me.

Oh, Caprice, I'm thinking the same thing.

Callen scoffs. He's beginning to sound like a horse. "You've almost tripled the chances of survival if you're a Career. You'd be stupid not to join up, if you think you can."
I'm not sure anyone here particularly likes the brutal Victor, even if everything he says is, unfortunately, true.
Mags clears her throat.
"We can continue this conversation later. The recaps are beginning."

The Recaps- little sections of each Reaping, starting from one and moving to twelve. They're meant so that a Capitol citizen can watch as all the tributes are selected, but we'll use them to our advantage, to assess the competition.
As predicted, two volunteers from District One. District Two is much the same, though the girl, Vera, volunteers for a younger girl that looks to be her sister.
Both of the District Three tributes are Reaped, scrawny kids that are either my age or younger. Glasses wearing, quiet, wouldn't tip the scale at 90 pounds soaking wet. I feel an urge to take care of them, not hunt them down.... but as much I loathe to admit it, they are no threat.
Then it's our turn. Somehow, we seem stronger and braver in the video. I am still young, Caprice is still scared... but they zoom in on me as I comfort Kelton. I look stoic and calm. You can't see Caprice shaking on camera, so she, too, seems measured. Caprice frowns.
"That's not how it happened." She points out. Celestine, who's been silently sipping wine thus far, speaks.
"They alter it to make you seem stronger." she slurs. I frown. I suppose having us for tributes causes one to get very, very drunk. Mags shoots Celestine a side-eye so brutal even Caprice cracks up.

We quiet as the Recaps continue to play. The tributes from Districts Five to Ten range from the ages of 12 to 17, none of them looking particularly powerful.
11, on the other hand, might pose a problem. The girl, Robyn, is very, very tall. The boy, Tein, is shorter, but definitely has at least fifty pounds on me. They're both Reaped, which is something, at least, but there's no denying that they will both be extremely lethal. Potential Careers? Depends on their training score, probably, and also if they demonstrate their strength adequately in training.
Twelve, on the other hand, is just sad. Neither tribute is a day over thirteen, they're alarmingly skinny, and the fear is vivid in their eyes.
For them, I feel nothing but sympathy.
As the seal of Panem flares, marking the end of the Recaps, I run through the names of the tributes in my head. Even if I didn't have an excellent memory, I think I'll remember each name until the day that I die.

 

DISTRICT ONE: TULLE and CORDUROY (Both fabrics, I think. Strange, but seeing as I'm called Finnick, I can't really judge)
DISTRICT TWO: VERA and CADE
DISTRICT THREE: REEMA and FLICK
DISTRICT FOUR: CAPRICE and FINNICK
DISTRICT FIVE: NESSA and MILO
DISTRICT SIX: JUNO and MASON
DISTRICT SEVEN: ROWAN and JASPER
DISTRICT EIGHT: MARIS and ALDEN
DISTRICT NINE: WILLA and REID
DISTRICT TEN: TANSLEY and WESS
DISTRICT ELEVEN: ROBYN and TEIN
DISTRICT TWELVE: ETTA and LEVI

Twenty-four kids. In a few weeks, Twenty three will be dead.

Mags' face screws up as she concentrates. "Districts One and Two will definitely be Careers. They might try to rope Robyn or Tein in from eleven... and Rowan from seven looks promising as well. I wouldn't be surprised if she's dangerous with an Axe."
"Rewind it back to her, would you?" I ask. Callen does so, and I scrutinize her. She's got dark hair and she's short, probably 14, but something about the way she narrows her eyes at the camera, how she subtly flips off the Peacemakers, makes me agree with Mags. Honestly, I want to be her friend.
Caprice smiles. "She looks awesome."
Callen demonstrates his similarity to a horse once more, letting out another snort. "She looks like trouble. Finnick, if you join with the Careers, make sure you tell them to end that one as soon as possible."

He's right, and I hate it. Because Rowan reminds me of Kelton, and killing her will be like murdering my best friend.
Mags clearly notices my distress, glaring at Callen.
"Enough, Callen. Go find some alcohol and get drunk." She orders. Celestine hears the word alcohol and jumps to her feet as well.
Callen shrugs, apparently not understanding Mags' anger, and our Mentor and Escort leave in search of the beverage car.
Caprice, too, gets to her feet, but her attention is on the window.
to get to the Capitol, we need only to cut through District one, so the ride is short. And we've arrived.
Caprice gulps, turning to me.
"Fin, we're- we're here.

Chapter 3: Sailing in Silk

Summary:

Spoilers as always

"Fin, we're- we're here."

I shoot to my feet, glancing out the window as well. Masses of people, all with strange hair colors or surgically altered bodies and crazy clothing. We've reached the Capitol, alright.
Caprice turns to me.
"Should we wave?" She asks. I consider. If we're to be Careers, we should, probably. Popularity is important to get us sponsors. I have some moral objection to pretending to be all buddy-buddy with the people who will most likely cheer as I die, but what can you do?
"Yeah."
I paste a smile on my face, step another step closer to the window, and begin to wave, even blowing a few kisses and winking. Caprice smiles, too, waving a little bit, although I can tell her heart isn't in it. Poor girl.
The cheers get even louder as we drive closer and closer to the Remake Center, where we'll be prettied up, and then displayed to the entire Capitol in a tribute parade.
Mags' face is grim.
"Yes, keep doing that. When we get there, just stay quiet and follow me. Ignore anyone if they try to speak to you." She instructs. I obey, because she knows what she's doing, and it's that or listen to Callen.

Soon enough, we're pulling into the oranate building, a gilded sign declaring we've reached our destination. The doors to our train open, three Peacemakers stationed at the exit. Presumably, they're there in case we try anything. Obviously, we don't, and we're lead into some sort of spa.
Mags scowls as she beholds our surrondings.
"It's going to hurt, and it's not going to be fun. Just do what they tell you, alright?"
The both of us nod, and Caprice and I are lead off into different directions.

Two of the Peacemakers lead me to the right, and onto a table that resembles where I might sit during a doctor's appointment. One, a woman, eyes me with barely disguised disgust.
"We're going to go now. If you cause any sort of trouble, your life will be a living hell in the games."
I smile sweetly. "Oh, I wouldn't dream of it."
As soon as she rounds the corner, I hop to my feet. I begin to poke around in the various drawers. Most of my findings are dull- Hair products, scissors, razors, Et cetera. Disappointing. I don't know what I was expecting, but it wasn't that.
I stew in silence for a couple minutes before three people, Capitol, for sure, round the corner.
The first is the most normal. She's decently pretty, with golden tattoos inked over her body and matching hair, lashes, and clothes. Not something you'd see in District Four, but the overall effect isn't bad.
The second clearly has had multiple surgeries. His skin is taut across his face, making his cheekbones painfully evident- all together kind of strange, but just wait. I'm going to go out on a limb here and assume he's been working with District Four for a while. Why else would one decide to have the skin on one's arms... carved, I suppose? There's not really another word for it, but the skin on his arms is raised in places and divots in others, imitating the scales of a fish. Oh, and his skin is dyed a shade of turquoise, as well.

He looks like a mutant mermaid, and not in a cool way.

 

The third has pearls embedded where her dimples might have been, as well as a pearl necklace, pearl earrings, and a pearl bracelet. Her outfit, obviously, is made of pearls, because who doesn't want to walk around in a dress that's worth several thousand dollars.

When they see me, they gasp.
"Oh, you're just so pretty, aren't you?" Goldilocks coos. I arch my eyebrows at her.
Mermaid-Man eyes me. "We can definitely work with this." He agrees.
Considering what they look like, I'm not sure if I should be offended. So I just stare at them blankly.
Pearls frowns. "Is he deaf?"
I snap to attention.
"No. Who are you?" I demand, jumping off of my bench and standing in front of them. I'm taller than all three of them, and definitely stronger, too. I feel quite confident I could take all three of them in a fight.
Goldilocks fans herself with her hand. "We're your prep team, hun. Gonna fix you all up before the stylist comes." She giggles. I frown.
"What do you mean, fix me up?"

I never want to be fixed up again. My entire body stings, there's not a single hair anywhere except for my head and brows, and I have a migraine.
Maybe I'm being dramatic. It wasn't all bad. Mermaid-Man actually did an excellent job on my hair, and I'm not above admitting it felt really, really nice when he scrubbed my scalp. Goldilocks also did...something to my nails, and they're actually, you know, a normal shape for nails to be. And they don't have fish guts underneath them.
My least favorite part: Getting my makeup done. I sneezed about seventeen times, my eyes are still watering, and something disgusting is on my lips. Also, when I peered into the mirror, I look two years older. With all of my face paint and my outfit, I look like a very attractive hospital patient. This blue gown thing is stunning, really, but I want my regular clothes back. ASAP.

Mermaid-Man, Goldilocks and Pearls are gushing and congratulating one another. Figuring this conversation is not important, I zone them out. A couple minutes later, they flutter off somewhere, and are replaced by a woman. She's no Mags, but she looks normaler than my Prep Team, with a head of hair that's either dyed Navy or is a wig, twisted into thousands of braids.
The overall effect is actually quite pretty, and she smiles at me.
"Hello, hun, I'm Kortney. I'm your stylist." I nod, and a hint of recognition flashes through me. She's been styling District Four for quite some time, if I'm not mistaken.
"I'm Finnick Odair." I say, although I'm sure she already knows this. "What color of mermaid am I going to be?"
Kortney laughs. "Oh, sweetie, that's so last year. We need something... newer. Bolder. You've been fish for the last three years. This year... I'm thinking something naughtier. More dangerous."
For the love of God, if I end up in a shark costume, I'll kill myself before I even step into that arena.
I raise a newly plucked brow.


Caprice looks nearly as unrecognizable as I. Her brown curls have been arranged in a messy knot at the nape of her neck, and she wears a black corset that looks painfully tight, a ruffly white jacket, an obscenely short white skirt, and a red bandana. I also wear a white shirt, the top three buttons left un-done, with black pants, a (fake) sword at my hip, tall black boots, and one, singular, earring.
If you haven't guessed already, we're pirates.
She studies me, her perfect by makeup face scrutinizing my own.
"You look 16." Is the first thing she says.
"You look 20." I counter. She sighs.
"I suppose you're right. Oh, well. I guess you won't have to worry about people underestimating you for your age if you don't look young." As we complain, we take an elevator down to the bottom floor, which is essentially a massive stable.
Kortney, and a portly man who introduces himself as Tarquin, Caprice's stylist, help us into our chariot. It's themed after a pirate ship, tying into our outfits, and pulled by horses as dark as the sea at night.
After we're placed exactly where we must stand, the stylists begin to fuss over my shirt, the exact angle Caprice's head is tilted, if my hair needs to be messier, Et cetera.
Thankfully, we're saved from having to deal with too much of this, as the National anthem of Panem begins to play and we're tugged into the City Circle.

I am, frankly, terrified. The tribute Parade is the first opportunity to make a good impression on potential sponsors... and therefore we must be perfect. I force a cocky grin onto my face and begin to wave at the crowd. Thousands upon thousands of people are in the audience, yelling and clamoring for our attention. All of them wear ridiculous get ups, most of them wear wigs, and a third of them look to be dyed an un-natural color. Since that's, you know, normal.
Our horses know exactly what to do, trotting behind the tributes from District Three. I cannot for the life of me distinguish what they are supposed to be, but there's a lot of silver and a lot of metal. District two in front of them look to be gladiators, and District one wear outfits made of gems, not unlike Pearls' dress from earlier.
I'm curious as to what the rest of the tributes are wearing, but turning around to look at the rest of them will probably make me look nervous. Besides, I'm sure I'll see them later. Instead, I continue waving and winking at the Capitol audience. I'm pleased that a lot of them seemed delighted by my attention, calling my name and waving right back.

I wave and smile and wink and smirk until my face and hands ache. If my eyelids could hurt, I think they probably would, too.

I risk a glance at Caprice beside me, who is also beaming at the crowd. She blows kisses as well, in particular to the few children that dot the crowd. We're looking good, in terms of sponsors, is all I'm going to say.
Fortunately for the fate of my wrist muscles, we're reaching our final destination, forming a little pyramid in the middle of City Center.
Our horses trot ride in between Districts Three and Five, directly in front of... Him.
It's President Snow, live and in the flesh.
Obviously I've seen him before, on TV and on the news. But even though he's old and grey and hunches a little, I know that this man is, by far, the most dangerous person in Panem. Not the leering District One tributes to my left, not the thousands of Peacekeepers that I'm sure lurk in hiding in case something goes wrong. This man could kill me with the blink of an eye. He is also, however, the worst person in Panem, and I refuse to let him cow me. He's already sentenced me to my death, I will not give him the satisfaction of seeing me grovel in fear before him, too. So I stare right at him, and narrow my eyes, just the tiniest bit. For a second, his eyes meet mine. His narrow, too, and for a millisecond, we just stand there, the lowly district Tribute and the president of Panem, eyes locked. I refuse to look away, and so, in fear of drawing too much attention, he is forced to look elsewhere.
For a moment, on this Chariot- I've won.

Of course, my victory is, most definitely, short termed. And I'll probably pay for it in the arena. The National Anthem blares again, the bold words ringing in my ear drums.
Since everyone's attention is now focused on the president, I am free to do whatever I wish for the next two minutes. Obviously, I decide to examine my fellow tributes.
Honestly, three quarters of us look ridiculous.
Robyn and Tein from 11 are dressed as what I believe is meant to be a stalk of wheat. Rowan and Jasper from seven are trees, I believe, the former staring at the ax at her side like she's considering launching it at the head of our dear president.
Like most years, the tributes from 12 are coal miners, the two of them practically swimming in all of the excess fabric.

Nothing is of much notice to me other than that, but Caprice seems very interested in the Trees- her eyes are locked on Jasper.
I glance at him again. He doesn't seem to have noticed my District Partner's gaze, but I nudge her all the same.
"Why are you staring at him?" Caprice scowls
"I have very little time left, Odair. If I want to look at the pretty people, I'm going to."
"I'm right here, Cresta. Just look at me." I retort, though secretly I'm glancing at Jasper again.
He's no me, but he's not hideous, about my height, with dark hair and wide-set brown eyes.
Caprice rolls her own eyes. "Shut up, Odair."
Unfortunatley, since the last notes of the anthem are playing, I can't really not shut up. So I accept my loss graciously and elbow Caprice.
Thankfully, she can't retaliate, since President Snow is rising to his feet to address us.
"Tributes, we welcome you to the Capitol. We commend your bravery, your courage, and your sacrifice!" Like we had a choice in that.

He continues talking about sacrifice and the Treaty of Treason for what seems like hours but in reality was probably two minutes.
Finally, when that's over, our horses spur into movement again, leading Caprice and I back to the stable. I flex my wrists, crack my neck, and begin to wave, wink, smile and smirk again.
If I don't get sponsors, I'm going to kill someone.
Although at the moment, I've got to say it doesn't look likely that I'll be sponsorless- there's a murmur of "Look at District Four!" that's begun among the audience, and I'm not sure what they're looking at, but so long as it's at us, it's fine with me.
Caprice says out of the corner of her mouth "We're quite popular, aren't we?"
I sigh. "I hate to say it, but we look fabulous."
Caprice shoots the crowd a dazzling grin. "Don't be modest, Odair, I think we both know that they're all looking at you." She scolds
I smirk. "Moved on from the lumberjack quickly, I see."
She elbows me.
"Hush." She commands. "We're on camera."


We're ushered back to Celestine, Callen and Mags after the parade is over. The two women assure us we did admirably and Mags tells me she thinks we'll have a whole host of sponsors. Callen is clearly drunk, guffawing about something or other with someone I do not recognize but is clearly also under the influence. Mags takes care to steer us far, far away from him.
I look down at her pleadingly.
"Can we shower?"
Mags grins. "Why? don't you like being a human canvas?"
Caprice and I just glare, and Mags smiles.
"Yes. And then get to bed. Training starts tomorrow morning."
Training, where Caprice and I will have to prove ourselves to the Careers. Where I will really get a chance to meet the other tributes, people that I'll have to kill.
It's going to be a long, long day.

Chapter 4: Lunch, Luxury, & Lumberjacks

The showers in the Capitol do not seem to like me.
Maybe they sense that I'm accustomed to their arch-rival, the ocean. Maybe they just enjoy causing pain.
Either way, they do not like me.
However, unless I want to go down to breakfast and then training looking like a racoon, I need to brave the showers once more. Perhaps this one will be more sympathetic.

 

I go down to breakfast clean, dry, and very, very cranky. I was doused in alternately steaming hot and frigidly cold blasts of water, scrubbed half to death with coarse brushes, and then hit by a torrent of wind so powerful it almost blew my hair right off.
And no, I am not being dramatic. I am never dramatic.
Celestine and Callen nurse hangovers, but Mags is as alert as usual, her greying hair pulled into a ponytail. Caprice is already nibbling on some bread, and both her and our Mentor smile when they see me.
"Good Morning, Fin." Says Caprice, offering me a piece of the bread. I take a piece, devouring it in a matter of seconds. I am very hungry, I find, since we skipped dinner in favor of showers and sleep last night.
Mags clears her throat. "So. Training day one. The two of you need to excel today. You can save survival skills and things like that for the next two days, but if there is ever a time where you need to seem formidable, it's right now."
The both of us nod, and I run through the options in my brain. I'm not really formidable at anything, but I'm best with a trident. Also I'm an excellent swimmer. I hope there's a pool.
Callen grunts. "Don't approach the Careers. They'll come to you." He adds.
Caprice scowls. "We'll keep that in mind." She mutters, shooting me a glance. "It's like learning how to ride a horse."
I smother my laughter. It's true, actually. Keep calm, let them come to you.

Mags checks a watch at her wrist and grimaces. "Time to go, you two." She announces.
We're already dressed, me in a tight fitting t shirt and sweatpants, Caprice in leggings and a loose tank top. Both of us have a piece of paper with a number four pinned to our backs.
Mags rises somewhat shakily to her feet and begins to stumble out of our room (The entirety of Floor Four. You have to applaud the originality, honestly. Floor Four, district four. Maybe we should be 11, for a change.) and towards the elevator. It shoots up and we stop suddenly. A kind, robotic female voice chimes in from some kind of speaker in the elevator, telling me this is the Training Level.
I draw my shoulders back before we step out, trying to make myself look as tall as I can.

As we exit the elevator, I take note of the other tributes. We're not the last ones to arrive, but it seems most people are there- Although I don't see Caprice's lumberjack, and I suspect the scowl on her face is caused by his absence.
A few minutes later, the pair from District Seven stomp in, followed closely by an older man with a beard. The girl, Rowan, is rolling her eyes at something he's said, while Jasper seems to be attempting not to laugh.

"Welcome, Tributes." Says a lady in the center of the Training Center. She's tall, dark, and clearly very physically fit. "Welcome to training. You're free to utilize any of our many stations, including any of those involving combat- although if you want to practice with someone, we have partners on hand. You are forbidden from engaging in physical combat with another tribute. Also, I recommend you try out a variety of stations- everyone wants to learn how to use a sword, but most of you will die from natural causes, including starvation. Hence why our food supplies or snares stations might be of use."
Tulle, the girl from district one, scoffs a little at that. She's echoed by her district partner, Corduroy. The trainer shoots them a disdainful look, but continues to speak.
"Lunch will be served at 1:00. Until then... let the training begin."

I turn to Caprice, figuring we should probably stay together.
"Shall we throw some tridents?" I suggest hopefully. I'm far too worked up to tie knots for an hour. Caprice wrinkles her nose, and I shoot her a pleading glance. She nods reluctantly. "We probably should."
The Training Center is massive, complete with an area that's fashioned after a forest (probably for learning to make fires) multiple obstacle courses, all sorts of weapons and targets, and, to my delight, a pool. I point this out to Caprice, who beams as well.
"I bet we'll be the best swimmers here. It will be no trouble to appear formidable at that." Her eyes seem to sparkle as she beholds it. We've never seen a pool before, but I figure its just a downsized ocean, and it will almost be like being home.
I nod eagerly at her comment, scanning the room for any sign of my favored three-pronged weapon. My eyes land upon one and I smile, grabbing Caprice's hand and tugging her towards them. She sighs.
"Why don't you show off for a minute, and I'll just watch." She proposes hopefully.
"Fine, but you have to go after me." I agree. Caprice bobs her head, pleased.
I take the last step towards the trident station, reaching for the nearest weapon.
"Do you need a lesson, son?" One of the trainers looms in front of me, her face politely uninterested. I shoot her a grin, seizing a trident and tossing it from one hand to the other.
Without giving her a second glance, I level it at shoulder level, bring it behind me, position it, take a step back, lunge forwards and... let it fly. I watch, delighted, as it whizzes towards the target in a deadly, beautiful flight. I haven't missed, that's for sure. It finds the neck of the dummy, twisting it back so it hangs by only a scrap of fabric.
The trainer raises an eyebrow.
"Clearly not." She answers her own question. Caprice begins to applaud, stepping up to me and clapping me on the shoulder.
"That was wonderful, you little shit. I can believe you told Mags you were only decent." I shrug, turning and snatching another weapon. This one I send spiraling through the chest of a second dummy, knocking it to the floor with a dull thud.

Caprice laughs, clearly enjoying watching me.
"Put this one into the pinky finger, and only the pinky finger, of the last one." Her voice has grown louder and she offers me a third trident.
I look at her, confused, before throwing.
It's another perfect shot, one prong going straight through the base of the dummy's splayed fingers.
My District Partner sends me a conspirators grin.
"They saw that one." She nods towards the tributes from districts One and Two, who indeed seem to be watching me.
"That's not nerve wracking at all." I mutter.
The trainer, who's just been staring at me incredulously so far, clears her throat.
"I can toss it up into the air so it's a moving target, if you'd like." She offers. I grin, snatching a fourth trident and spinning it with my fingers.
"Sure."
The trainer rips the last bit of fabric holding on the head of my first target off. She then lobs it up in the air. It's a high throw, but not a particularly powerful one. I tend to throw earlier than I need to, anticipation forcing my hand. I force myself to wait.... wait... and NOW.
My trident whirls through the target, arching towards the wall and pinning both itself and the dummy's head on the bullseye of a sketched out dartboard on the wall.

I turn to the trainer, expecting praise, but I'm greeted with silence. Confused, I turn to Caprice, but she, too, is quiet, her mouth slightly open. In fact, I don't think a single tribute is moving, all silently staring at me.

There's a dull thud somewhere to our left, and Caprice's lumberjack begins to swear colorfully. It seems Rowan had dropped the handle of her axe on his toe.
And by colorfully I mean he said every bad word that I know plus twelve that I'd never heard of but by the look on most of the older tributes' faces were not good.
Vera, the tribute from District Two, looks as if she is trying very, very hard not to laugh.
Jasper scowls at Rowan. "Keep a better grip on that thing, christ. You nearly broke my toe." Rowan shrugs apologetically, bends down to pick up her weapon, and trods on his foot. Jasper begins to swear again, but this time his language is directed at his now cackling district Partner.
That's it for me. I double over in silent laughter, Caprice clearly smothering a smile beside me.
"The lumberjack has a very naughty vocabulary." I wheeze as I finally catch my breath.
Caprice grins wickedly. "Very naughty indeed."

Jasper's impressive display of expletives has drawn most of the attention away from me, although I feel the eyes of the Careers on my back as I continue to throw. I don't miss once, and once Caprice finally deigns to join me, she's not bad either- although she winces whenever she hits the target and often gets distracted looking at a certain someone.
I sigh. "Caprice, it's almost lunch. I'm surprised he hasn't noticed your pine-ing-" I smirk, pleased with my own intelligence. Caprice's eyes roll so drastically I'm afraid they'll fall out of their sockets.
"Get it, like a pine tree, since they're district seven?" I crow. She slaps me lightly across the arm.
"You are not nearly as funny as you think you are."
"I'm hilarious, hush. Anywho, I think you should go ask him to eat lunch with you. Or us, I suppose."
Caprice looks tempted, but then shakes her head. "If we eat with them, the Careers will think we're allying with Seven, and we can't have that."
"We don't even know if the Careers are going to-"
I'm interrupted with a tap on the shoulder. I turn slowly, and am greeted by the sight of Corduroy, the male tribute from District One. He smiles at me, although it's more of a baring of his teeth than anything.
"Hello." He rumbles, extending a massive hand for me to shake. I don't, arching an eyebrow at him.
"Can I help you?"
His District Partner, Tulle, laughs behind him.
"Oh, Corduroy, stop being so... whatever that is. Nice to meet you, pretty thing. I'm Tulle. And you're... Finnick, right?"
I bristle slightly at the condescension in her tone, but I force myself to smile.
"Indeed." I let my gaze drift to the right. Unsurprisingly, Vera and Cade lurk there.
"Vera. Cade." I greet them, before turning back to Corduroy.
Caprice has stiffened behind me, her grip on a trident tightening. If there's a conflict, I'm not sure she'd use it, but the Careers don't know that.
Cade ignores me, but Vera tosses me a smile that actually seems genuine.
Corduroy glowers at Tulle before clearing his throat.
"We were wondering if you wanted to eat lunch with us." He says.
I cross my arms. "How nice."
Tulle's clear blue eyes roll.
"Oh, Christ. Who decided it was a good idea to let him do the talking?" She grumbles.
"Finnick, we want you to be a Career." She says bluntly.

Well, it appears I've seemed formidable enough.

I shrug, making a show of looking at Caprice and pretending to think about it. She shrugs too, so I make a "why not" face and turn back to the tributes from One and Two.
"I will if Caprice can, too." I tell Tulle, who flashes me a brilliant white smile.
"Excellent. Come eat with us, then!"

I am very much expecting to hate all of them. To my shock, I find myself liking Vera more and more- she's telling Caprice about her sister, and the latter is content to listen, chiming in occasionally about Annie. As for me, I stay mostly quiet, and I find myself assessing the four other Careers.
Our "Alliance" typically lasts until there are very few remaining tributes, but frankly I don't want to be with them any longer than I really need to be. Therefore I need to figure out their strengths, weaknesses, and any weapons that they favor.

Corduroy is not difficult to figure out. He's eighteen, and like most big, cocky, loud men, he's strong, sure, probably favors a sword or spear, but he's slow on his feet. That much is certain when he races Cade to retrieve our lunch and the District Two tribute leaves him in the dust.

Tulle is also eighteen, shorter and slimmer than her District Partner, but still larger than either Cade or Vera. She flat out tells us that she prefers archery and long distance fighting, although she'll sword fight in a pinch. For weakness, probably the range issue, or how confident she is. The other three seem content to let her take charge, and she bosses the rest of us about constantly. She also flat out ignores Caprice when she mentions the size of the district Eleven tributes, waving a hand and saving they'll be no match for her. Arrogance is a deadly disease, they say.

Cade and Vera are quieter, and therefore more difficult to figure out.
Although he's male, Seventeen year old Cade is the shortest of the six of us, barely reaching my neck. But that being said, not badly muscled, he's clearly quick and he's most definitely cleverer than the tributes from one. He's not quiet in a sense that he doesn't talk, he just doesn't do so loudly- and from what I hear, he's a real tool. For weaknesses, I can't tell. Maybe if I get a chance to watch him.

As for Vera, she genuinely seems kind, and is currently laughing at something Caprice has said. I saw her sparring with a rapier earlier, and she is crazy talented with that thing. If Caprice and I are going to leave the Careers at some point, I will make sure to steer clear of her. I have little to base this opinion on, but I think she's the smartest out of all of them- which makes her the most dangerous. Exactly how badly does she want to get back to the sister she volunteered for?
I realize now that her and I, we are very, very similar. Her sister, who I believe is called Blaire, probably begged her to try to come home. Kelton did much the same thing. One of them or possibly both will lose a sibling sometime in the next month.

Feeling sick at the thought of it, I attempt to listen as Cade, Corduroy and Tulle converse.
Tulle is complaining about something or other, and it takes only a couple of seconds for me to figure out that the topic of the conversation is Jasper and Rowan from district Seven.
"The girl dropped her axe on my foot. Hurt like hell, too." She whines. Corduroy scowls. "I suppose they said no, then?"
"Actually, he said "What an honor—you want me to join a pack of knife-happy sociopaths who’ll gut me in my sleep. Tempting. Really. But I think I’d actually rather shove an axe up my own ass than take orders from a bunch of dick measuring Capitol wannabees with superiority complexes. No, fuck off."" Vera quotes, lowering her voice a little as if to imitate Jasper.
Caprice's eyes widen as she sneaks a glance at the lumberjack, who is rolling his eyes as Rowan talks about something or other.
Tulle fumes. "Yes, well, he won't be so snarky when I gut him like a fish in the arena." She snarls. Corduroy laughs a little at that.
"Christ, Tulle, a knife to the back'll do. There are kids watching this thing, you know."
Vera shoots Caprice a smirk. "And he's hot, too." She mutters, quiet enough that I doubt Tulle or Corduroy heard.
Caprice elbows her in the stomach, and Vera laughs at something my partner whispers in her ear.
Tulle scowls. "Either way, he's a dead man walking."
Caprice's eyes narrow a little. I elbow her side to get her to cut it out.
Really, she's never even spoken to the boy. Yet she's tangled up in his net and isn't even trying to get loose.

By the end of the first Training Session, my body is aching. I've mostly stuck to Tridents today, although I let Caprice drag me to knots. I like making the nets, but she almost killed me when demonstrating a noose. Suffice to say I have no intention of getting hanged- that shit hurt.
I've returned to our room- well, floor might be a more accurate description, really, but I have no idea where the hell Caprice is.
Callen is, miraculously, completely sober, and he claps me on the back when I tell him the Career news.
"Nice job, boy." He grunts. He then leans forwards with a conspirators look.
"When are you planning on turning on them?"
I shrug. "I don't know, I'll talk to Caprice about it."
His expression sours. "Them including her, boy. By the sounds of it they're only taking her for you- so if you leave, they'll kill her, and that's one less thing for you to do." He drawls.
I shoot him a glare. "I'm not turning on Caprice." I insist.
"Only one of you can win, you know. And you don't want to be the last two." He retorts. I'm saved from having to respond to that unfortunately stellar logic by the arrival of Mags.
Old and unsure on her feet as she may be, Callen knows to shut his mouth when she comes near.
"Gonna go get som'in to drink." Callen mutters, before shooting to his feet and making himself scare.
Mags sighs, but brightens a little bit when she sees me. "Oh, hello, Finnick. How was training?" She asks, settling herself in a chaise beside mine.
I shrug. "Fine. The Careers want me."
Mags smiles a little. "I guess your Trident throwing was better than you gave yourself credit for, then?"
"Maybe just a little bit better."
"Good job, Finnick. I'm proud of you, honey."
I nod distractedly. "I'm just not sure if I want to be hunting kids down. I mean, they're so young, most of them, and none of them really knew how to use weapons... it doesn't seem fair."
Mags cocks her head to the side. "No, it doesn't, does it." It's not really a question, but I nod all the same.
"How would you like to-" She trails off, beginning to shake her head.
"Like to what?" I prompt, intrigued.
But Mags just shakes her head. "Oh, nothing. I don't know what I was thinking. It's far too dangerous."

My smile fades. "whatever it is, I'm sure I could do it." I insist.
Now, I don't think Mags knows this, but when you tell a teenage boy they can't do something because it's too dangerous, they want to do it more. But Mags refuses to withhold any information, even as I pester and pester and pester.
"Finnick, enough." she finally snaps. "I will not have you lose everything for some farfetched hope."
Mags has never snapped at me before, so I decide now is a good time to shut up. Besides, my attention is diverted to Caprice, who has just strutted through the door, a massive, shit-eating grin on her face.
I take one look at her and my eyebrows shoot up.
"What happened?"
Her smile grows.

Chapter 5: Women Scare Me

Women scare me.

I'm not going to lie, when Caprice strutted in after training, grinning like a fiend, I was worried she had murdered someone.
Not one of the other tributes, of course, but I wouldn't put it past her to swing her trident into some Peacemaker's gut.

Turns out her utter delight was caused by something far less treasonous- a certain someone and the absence of a certain article of clothing.
Shirtless lumberjacks seem to be Caprice's one weakness.
"You spent an hour ogling Jasper shirtless?" I demand, my jaw dropping.
Caprice shoots me a smirk.
"No. I talked to him, too."
"Really, and how'd that go?"

JASPER

Women scare me. Rowan, the fiendish, ax wielding demon who was reaped alongside me (and is coincidentally my third favorite person ever) is only fourteen, and yet still scares the living shit out of me every. single. fucking. day. She also has a terrible habit of dropping her fucking axe on my toe, which is why half of my foot is now the color of an evergreen tree.
However, one thing about Rowan is she's essentially family- she's good friends with my little sister, despite Rowan being almost three her senior, and our parents are very close.
And even if I was interested in her (which I'm very much not) I'm also eighteen.

But there are other women who are my age and who I am very much interested in.
Despite her being a Career, she is quite possibly the most stunning person I have ever seen.
Which is entirely unfair, as I'll have to kill her in order to get Rowan home.
And yet... and yet.... I find myself tugging off my shirt, telling Rowan I'm hot, as we spar. Knowing full well that she's watching me with those beautiful eyes.

I smell her before I hear her or see her. Which might sound weird, but I'm sparring with Rowan and the only thing I can hear is the rattle of our axes as they collide, and if I take my eyes off of Rowan she'll put me on my ass. Again.
And so when the scent of sea-salt and pineapples and all things summer washes over my nose, I raise my hand, gesturing for Rowan to stand down.

Caprice smiles in greeting. "Hello, District Seven." She drawls.
Rowan elbows me after a second, and I realize I have been staring. Shaking myself slightly, I narrow my eyes.
"Cresta." I say
Caprice laughs. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you just were a man of few words- except I heard your little tantrum earlier." She mocks.
Rowan cackles at that, viewing the District Four tribute with an appreciative gleam in her brown eyes. "Oh, I like you."
Caprice beams at her. "Likewise. Rowan, right?" She cocks her head to the side. I almost want to ask her to do it again, because Christ, was it hot. (What is wrong with me?)
Rowan nods. "That's me. And this buffoon-" she jams her elbow up my side again- "Is Jasper."
I scowl at Rowan, wincing, and then bob my head at Caprice in greeting.
Caprice smirks. "I know." She says simply.
I am as red as a maple tree in fall. I am essentially a tomato at this point.
"Well, nice to meet you. I'd advise the two of you to stay away from the Careers- you made quite the impression on them, lumberjack." She raises her brows as she beholds me.
I bare my teeth in a feral grin.
"I'm glad."
Caprice laughs. "As am I, but I'd hate to see your pretty head impaled by a spear." She taunts, before wiggling her fingers and flouncing away.
It's not till she's gone and Rowan begins to cackle again that I realize she called me pretty.

FINNICK

Caprice finishes recalling the story and I honestly feel bad for poor Jasper.
"Christ, woman, go easy on the poor guy." I reprimand.
Caprice just laughs.

When we're down at training, Jasper takes one look at Caprice and flushes red. I just shake my head at her.
We're soon joined by the other Careers, to my displeasure- Tulle's in quite a mood this morning, snapping at everyone and rolling her eyes at Corduroy every three seconds.
Vera, on the other hand, goes straight to Caprice and the two of them are giggling and shooting glances at Jasper. Which leaves me in Cade's company.
He is eyeing the District Twelve tributes like one might a piece of meat. When I join him, he mutters under his breath. "We probably won't have to kill them- they look like one good burst of wind could take them out."
I rein in a scowl. Even though he's right, the two District Twelve tributes, Etta and Levi, are so pitifully small I feel the urge to keep them safe, not hurt them. But Cade's attention has already turned to Robyn and Tein from 11. "Do you think it'd be worth approaching them?" He asks. His voice is so soft I'm not sure that's exactly what he's said, so I just shrug.
"You'd have to ask Tulle."
Cade rolls his eyes at that, as if the very thought repulses him. Now that's interesting. Do I sense some resentment between the two of them?
I ponder the idea of dealing with Cade for another few minutes, if just to figure out what's he up too, but I abandon this particular idea when his narrowed eyes begin to scrutinize the rest of the tributes.
I have no interest in playing this game with him.
So I scan the training center for Caprice, and unsurprisingly, I find her at the knot station... with Vera. Seeing as she bothers me the least, and I'd rather pluck out my own eye than talk to Tulle, I walk to join the two girls.
Caprice is demonstrating how to make a simple net for Vera, and the two of them are muttering under their breath about something or other.
It could be anything from Jasper to Murder plans, so I decide to interject myself in the conversation.
"Hey, Vera."
Vera shoots me a smile. "Hey, Finnick. Did you tire of Cade's delightful company?"
I scoff. "I pity you for having to deal with him the last 16 years."
Vera laughs. "Oh, well. I've only got to deal with him for a while longer. Hopefully he'll be dead before me."
Caprice smirks. "Maybe 11 will kill him for you."
I'm confused for all of six seconds before I notice Tulle and Cade have approached both tributes from district 11.
"10 bucks says Tein slaps him in the face." I offer, noticing the enraged look upon the boy's face.
Caprice makes a face. "You're on, Odair. Twenty says they both say yes."
I arch a brow. "No fucking wa-" Let's put it this way- if I had any money I'd be down 20$.
Vera nudges me. "Pay up, Finnick." She orders, giggling.
I expose my palms, smiling ruefully. "Sorry, Caprice, I'm a bit short on cash. If you live, tell my parents I owe you."
Caprice makes a face, shaking her head.
"In this situation, you're dead."
"Ah, but I wouldn't want to be in debt in the afterlife."
Caprice rolls her eyes at my perfectly valid point, before turning back to look at the two newest Careers.
The rage on Tein's face has been replaced with mild annoyance, but I still wouldn't trust him as far as I could throw him. Considering I doubt I could even lift him off the floor, I suppose I'll need to keep an eye on him.
Robyn hides her displeasure better, although I can tell by the slight tension in her jaw that she doesn't like this arrangement, either.

Vera notices it, too, wincing. "Not sure that's the best idea." She says.
Caprice nods agreement. "Ten bucks says Tein'll get so pissed off at Cordoruy he'll turn on us."
Vera snorts. "I'm not taking that."
I scrutinize the conversing tributes and cock my head to the side. "I might... hey, Caprice, ten bucks says Robyn'll punch Tulle at some point in the next week."
"Deal."
"Enough gambling. The two of you are broke." Vera complains. Caprice and I shoot her twin glares, although it is very much true.

The two of them busy themselves with the knots again, Vera letting out a quiet curse as she drops the rope. I seize a strand myself and begin to weave it into a net as well. Less masterfully than Caprice, but being from District Four I manage. Vera swears softly again and I look up, amused, expecting to see yet another failure- but instead her gaze is locked on Corduroy. The brutish boy has backed a younger tribute against the wall, a scrawny boy with glasses who I'm about 75% sure is from District Three.
"What did he do?" Caprice mutters. Vera shrugs, stepping forwards as if she's going to interfere- but before she can, Jasper appears.

"Fuck off, Dickhead." The lumberjack's lazy drawl is loud enough that we can hear. Vera stops in her tracks, glancing back at Caprice.
"Idiot." Caprice breathes. "Idiot."
However much of an idiot Jasper might be, he's succeeded in drawing Corduroy's attention away from the District Three boy, who I believe is called Flick.
Corduroy turns to a fuming Jasper.
"What did you call me?" He demands.
"Oh, do your ears not work? I said Dickhead, shit for brains." Jasper retorts, getting up in Corduroy's face. He's taller and definitely smarter than my ally, but Corduroy's got at least twenty pounds on him.
I'm not sure who would win in a fight. I guess I'll never know, though, because several Peacekeepers have inserted themselves in between the two boys, shoving them apart.
Caprice exhales loudly, shaking her head.
"That could have been a lot worse." She murmurs.
Vera hums agreement. "But If they weren't targeting him before, they're definitely now."

And indeed, when lunch is served, Corduroy is telling Tulle exactly what he's going to do to Jasper in the arena.
Caprice looks sick, Vera looks repulsed, and if I could see myself, I'd guess I would look angry.
What Jasper did, defending the younger boy, was the right thing to do. Fuck, if I had been close enough, I'd probably have done it too... well. I might not have called Corduroy a dick, but still.

Corduroy's mutters are becoming borderline disturbing, and Caprice is turning green, so I seize the arm of my district partner in one hand and a sandwich in the other before tugging her over to the trident station, where I'm now somewhat of a celebrity.
Her face has turned from green to red, and she's practically shaking with fury.
"He didn't do anything wrong." She hisses. "They're such... such dicks."
I nod absentmindedly.
"Are you sure you want to team up with them?" She demands me.
I turn to face her. "It's not like we can leave them now." I point out.
She scowls. "I think I've changed my mind about killing people."
"So it takes someone threatening your crush to get you to turn deadly, does it?"
Caprice bares her teeth at me playfully. "I might get a taste for it, Odair. You might be next on the list."
I pretend to shudder in fear. "I'll keep that in mind."

Caprice begins to speak again, something about Vera, but I sense someone's eyes on me and I turn.
Robyn, the Girl from district 11, is staring directly at me.
Once it's obvious I've noticed her gaze, she begins to trot towards me.
"Hello." She says, inclining her head. I offer her a smile. "Hello."
"I suppose we're Allies, then?" Her voice is brisk. I shrug. "I suppose."
Robyn laughs a little at that, dark eyes narrowing slightly. "Just don't get in my way." She says lightly.
I turn to her, brows raised.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Oh, I don't plan to stay with you lot very long."
"Don't you?" My response is just as smooth, although I'm already trying to get a read on her. Clearly she's plotting my death as we speak, and if I'm to defend myself I should figure her out.
Her arms are decently muscled, though not as much as any of the tributes from 1 or 2. She walks with a grace that I've not seen from anyone else. She moves her hands a lot when she talks and I can see firm calluses- especially on the fingertips and palms. I'd guess she's a good climber, probably fighting with knives.
"Nice meeting you, Finnick." She says, before gliding back to Tein.
I turn to Caprice, who has just silently watched the entire interaction.
"She doesn't seem the most loyal ally." Caprice remarks.
"She looked like she was planning what to wear at my funeral." I agree.

And indeed, after training Callen and Mags both advise caution around the District 11 tributes.
"Who knows, maybe you'll get lucky and they'll kill the rest of them for you." Callen says, swirling a cup in his hand.
Mags rolls her eyes. "Make sure one of you is always awake, is all that I'll say."
"I wasn't planning on letting any of those brutes guard me, anywho." I point out.
Caprice shrugs. "I trust Vera."
Callen snorts. "And that's why you'll be dead within a week."
Mags snarls at him. "Enough, Callen." She orders. He scoffs but obeys her, throwing back another sip of his drink.
I'm not concerned about him, however, my gaze focused on Caprice. But she doesn't seem bothered, eyes rolling back into her head as she scoops a bite of mashed potatoes into her mouth. She notices my stare and lifts one shoulder.
"He's a drunk idiot. I don't care what he says."
"Good." says Mags. "You shouldn't."
"Any advice for tomorrow?" I ask, pulling the potatoes towards myself. Caprice looks to be enjoying them greatly, and when will I ever have a chance to consume delicious things again.
Callen bares his teeth in feral amusement.
"Be formidable."

Chapter 6: Formidable

"Be formidable."

Callen's instructions, though delightfully vague, at least give me something to think about during training. Since yesterday and the day before were primarily focused on weaponry, I decide to dedicate today to survival skills- which is incredibly boring. Yes, fine, I get it, making fires is very important, but rubbing a stick between my hands isn't exactly my definition of fun.

However, considering the ease in which I watched the tributes from district five do it, I'm determined to get this right- even if it's the last thing I do.
Ignoring Caprice's smirks as she watches me struggle, I double my efforts.
After five minutes, I'm rewarded with a spark of flame.
Beaming, I turn to Caprice who begins to clap slowly.
"That took you twenty minutes."
"Slow and steady wins the race." I retort, gesturing at my fire.
Caprice rolls her eyes. "Sorry, Fin, but I think you lost that particular race."
I shrug. "So, making fires isn't my greatest talent. Maybe I'll be a whizz at the poisons plant station."

I am not a whizz at the poisonous plant station- though I manage not to die, which is always a plus.
Caprice and I, occasionally accompanied by Vera, go from station to station.
We spend only ten minutes eating, partly because I can't deal with the rest of the Careers for longer than that, and partly because they are being called one by one for the individual assessments with the Gamemakers.

Since its district by district, male then female, I'm the seventh tribute to go. Mercifully, Corduroy and Tulle are the first two to go, and then Cade goes next, which leaves us only with Robyn and Tein to deal with.
Robyn's yapping about what she's going to show the Gamemakers, but when Flick, the boy from District Three, is called in, I'm so nervous I can barely hear her. I need to do well. I need sponsors, badly- even though I'm a Career, the Cornucopia is not endless. And besides, I'd be willing to bet our "alliance" lasts for less than a week.
Soon enough, it's Reema's turn, and I'm left biting at my nails.
Caprice notices my nerves, resting a warm hand on my forearm.
"Fin, you'll be fine. Just take some deep breaths and don't lose your head. They'd be stupid not to give you at least a nine." She reassures.
I give her a small smile. "Thanks, Caprice." I mutter.

All too soon, my name is called. "Finnick Odair."
I step into the room, looking back at Caprice once. She smiles and mouths "Good luck." I smile back and do my best to stride confidently into the room. "Finnick Odair, district four." I announce.
I'm given a single nod. I suppose they've been watching me, at least a little, in training, as there's no shortage of Tridents, spears and knives.
I take a deep breath, before stepping towards one of the tridents. I grasp it in my hand- it's hard metal, exactly what I'm used to from home.
Of course, this one feels brand new, without the indents and scratches that is normal for me- it's slightly bizarre in it's perfection. But it's a trident, and for that I'm grateful. Leveling the trident at the target, I take another deep breath- and then I send it spinning through the head of one of the dummies.
It's an excellent throw, if I do say so myself, and I look up to see the Gamemakers give little nods of approval.
Good, but not great. Not formidable. But no matter, I have fifteen minutes- and I intend to utilise every second.
I dart towards a length of rope and weave it into a quick net, relishing the coarseness against my hands. With a little grunt of effort, I sling it over two of the dummies and spear them both through the heart with two quick jabs of my spear.
Without even turning around, I send two knives spiraling towards the heads of two more dummies, and am rewarded with two more satisfying thunks as they find their home in the dummy's cloth heart.
But I'm not done- not even close.
As quickly as I can, I set up a fifth dummy about a meter in front of a bullseye, before launching a trident so hard at its head that it rips off and is pinned to the target.
I seize another weapon and send a spear whizzing towards the target as well, smiling a little as it finds it home in the middle of the dummy's head. Another glance at my audience confirms that they're impressed with me- so I snatch another two knives, pin a trident under my arm, and trot towards the final dummy. Two quick slashes of my knife sever the dummy's head from it's body (Perhaps the Capitol should invest in less breakable targets. I've probably beheaded dozens of these things in three days alone.)
I lob the head into the air and send a trident whizzing through it- again pinning it to the target against the wall. I can't help the beam that shines across my face as the Gamemakers begin to clap a little. I make an effort to shut it down after a second, though, as I remember who claps for me- who will probably clap just as loudly when I meet the same fate in the arena.
Clearly I've been adequately formidable for them. One, an older man with a strangely cut beard, swirls a glass around in his hand before giving me a strained smile.
"Thank you, Finnick Odair. You may go, now." I nod a little, not bothering to remove the remnants of my destruction from the wall.

Caprice smiles at me as I stride out.
"How'd it go?" She asks.
I shrug. "Not bad." I settle myself beside her and she arches a brow.
"You said you were not bad with a trident and you were proven wrong. Don't be modest, Odair. How did it go?"
I roll my eyes. "They clapped for me." I grumble.
Caprice's eyes widen. "I've never heard of that happening before. You must have really been formidable." She puts extra emphasis on the last word and I can't help but laugh.
"Oh, I was ever so formidable." I try to imitate Callen's hoarse grunt, causing Caprice to seize up in giggles.
"God, you even look like him when you make that face! You need to show Mags that at-"
She's interrupted by the sound of her name.
"Caprice Cresta." I give her a smirk.
"Be formidable, Cresta."
She smacks me and strides off.
Wincing, I do the same, heading back to the fourth floor.

I'm greeted by Celestine, who has finally deigned to appear and fulfill her escort duties, Callen, who has clearly downed at least three alcoholic beverages so far, and Mags, who is having some trouble with walking tonight.
I slip my arm under hers and help her into a chair. The presentation of our scores will be happening soon, and I don't want to miss a single one. Mags sends me a dazzling smile and I settle myself into the chair next to her. And then we wait.
Caprice comes in a moment later, her face a little flushed.
"How'd it go?"
"Oh, formidably." I laugh.
We wait.
Then suddenly, the national anthem of Panem begins to play, and the Scores begin to flash across the screen.
Corduroy is up first, scoring a predictably high 9- Then Tulle, with a ten.
Caprice whistles. "They did well." She observes. I just nod.
Vera and Cade pull two tens as well, and I stare at the screen, dumbfounded. I'm wondering for a second if the scoring system is off- but no, wait, there's Flick with a five.
So the Careers must really be that good.
I hold my breath as Reema's face fades off the screen.
Then I'm there- looking older and stronger than I really am- and Cesar Flickerman's voice is echoing through the room.
"Finnick Odair, with a score of.... ten." My face lights up with a grin and Mags gives me a small smile.
"Nice job, Finnick." She says softly.
Caprice laughs. "All right! You killed it, Odair." She congratulates me, but quiets quickly as her picture flashes on.
I arch my brows. "Damn, Cresta, looking reaaalll nice." I tease. Caprice claps a hand over my mouth.
"Caprice Cresta with a score of....nine!" Caprice's eyebrows shoot up and I pry her hand away from my mouth.
"Damn! Nice job, Cresta!" I crow. She just shakes her head slowly.
"What?" I demand.
Caprice smiles. "Oh,nothing. I just think it's funny, because I just launched some nets at a dummy and then threw shit at it. And then I stormed out of there."
I crack up, and clap Caprice on the back. "Maybe they appreciated your anger." I suggest.
Callen gives a drunken little snort. "They need... fire, in the arena, you know. So you all don't just lay down and die. They always give the feisty ones higher scores." He says.
Mags hums agreement.
"Well done, both of you." She breathes. "Well done."
The both of us grin at Mags before turning our attention back to the screen.
The Lumberjacks are up- and both of them scored an Eight. Which is excellent considering neither of them have had any formal training, not like us. Mostly low scores for all the rest- averaging about a five, except for Robyn and Tein, who get nines.

Celestine claps her hands together. "Well, that's just excellent! Since the two of you got such high scores, we'll have no trouble presenting you as possible victors at the interview and with all the sponsors" She coos.
I arch a brow. "What exactly are we going to be wearing for the interviews? " I demand. Thankfully, the interviews are less costume-y and more fancy. Which means I'll actually be wearing something that's not, you know, a pirate costume. However, I don't particularly want to be wearing the Capitol definition of nice clothing, either, considering I've seen what these people wear on a daily basis.
Celestine shrugs daintily. "I'm not sure, to be honest, hun. But your stylists are really very talented. I'm sure they've got something good planned." "And what's tomorrow's schedule?" Caprice asks, picking a little bit at her nail.
Celestine beams. " Four hours with me for Presentation- etiquette and moving and talking, and four hours with either Mags or Callen for Content things and working on your angles." She titters. "And then the next day, you'll be getting all ready for the interview!" I'm not sure what I'll be doing surrounding etiquette that will take four hours, but I do know that I will need to get a phenomenal sleep tonight- or I will most likely punch Celestine in the face.
And I'm hoping with every inch of me that I'll get Mags to help me with content, because four hours with a drunk Callen sounds terrible. Of course, I doubt I'll be that lucky.

Chapter 7: A Peacock and a Pufferfish

Of course, I'm not so lucky.

After scarfing down a quick breakfast (some pastry that has to be the most delicious thing I have ever consumed)
I'm heading off to Content- with Callen, because of course I get stuck with him while Caprice gets Mags.
Of course.

Callen spends the first ten minutes just staring at me- while it's slightly disturbing and I'm about 75% sure he's very drunk, at least it's better than listening to him speak.
Finally, he opens his mouth.
"I don't know how to present you." He says, narrowing those green District Four eyes at me.
I cross my arms. "What do you mean, present me?"
Callen rolls his eyes. "Come on, boy, don't tell me you've never watched the Hunger Games. Everybody's got some sort of... of angle. And you need one, if you're going to win this thing."
I frown a little bit, studying him. "What was your angle?" I demand.
He bares his teeth in feral amusement. "Bloodthirsty."
I swallow a little bit. "Delightful."
He just cocks his head to the side.
"You're too young to be monstrous... too attractive to be mysterious... try the innocent little boy from District Four. Try to charm them." He orders me, beginning to shoot questions my way.
It's immediately apparent that I am not very good at acting sweet and innocent, which frankly is just fine with me.
"Try cocky." He orders.
Now, I may be a pufferfish, according to Annie, but I wouldn't call myself overly cocky.
However, according to Callen, it "suits me." Which means I get to be a peacock.

At least acting like a peacock, however, is better than being forced to dress like one- Celestine makes me walk in thirteen different ways in hats that are so tall they hit the roof. And the jackets she makes me put on are heavier than three Tridents strapped to my back. At the end of the hours, I'm sweating buckets and genuinely debating running away from all of this nonsense. If I ever hear "SHOULDERS BACK!" again, I'm going to rip my ears off and then shove it down someone's throat.
Thankfully, I doubt my competitors in the arena will be too focused on my posture.

Caesar Flickerman and the audience, however, will most definitely be.

And then... and then it's interview day.
Goldilocks, Mermaid-Man and Pearls sweep into the room, beaming from ear to ear. I bite back a groan.
Pearls fans herself with a bedazzled hand. "Oh, sweetie! You're going to look so, so perfect!" She squeals.
Self restraint is difficult, but I make a valiant effort not to roll my eyes.

The three of them descend upon me with vigour, scrubbing, plucking, and generally doing things that itch. Now, I'm not going to lie, if I had been surrounded by anyone from the districts or whatever, this process might have been a little bit more uncomfortable. But frankly, my prep team don't look human, so I can't bring myself to feel too self-conscious.
Since it's only been a few days since they gave me my big makeover, I'm only prepped for about three hours before they erase my face with a layer of makeup.
I'm not going to lie, no one in the districts, apart from maybe District one, wears makeup. When I was younger, I foolishly thought people from other districts naturally had red eyelids or blue lips or whatever. My parents didn't bother to correct me, but Kelton sure did. He laughed so hard he almost threw up- it's one of my fondest memories.
Anyway, it's a weird sensation for me, although it's not as goopy as it was the first time.
Pearls clasps her hands to her cheeks and cheers. "Oh, it looks so, so perfect!"
I force my facial features not to display my amusement. Goldilocks, who had been rubbing some sort of gel into my hair leans over, giving me a very unflattering view up her nostrils.
She nods thoughtfully. "Oh, nice job." She says, voice approving. Mermaid-man sighs wistfully.
"Oh, to be young and beautiful like him again..." He pinches my cheek lightly.
Pearls rolls her eyes. "You were never as beautiful as him, Mak." Mermaid Man- or Mak, I suppose, glares a little at her.
Again, I'm not sure if I should be flattered or offended right now, considering their definition of beautiful.

Just as my patience with the three of them is wearing thin, Kortney steps in with some sort of clothing bag in her hands.
Mercifully, I'm spared uncomfortable boots or top-hats, as far as I can tell. I've been instructed not to look, but I can feel a semi-tight long sleeved shirt, thick pants, and some sort of sturdy black dress shoe.
The process of dressing doesn't take as long as the makeup part- believe it or not, putting on clothes is a realtively simple activity, even for us district folk.
It still takes fifteen minutes, though, because Pearls and Goldilocks get into a little argument about how many buttons should be undone on the top.
Kortney, who is growing on me by the second, solves the dispute by wrenching me away from the two fussing women.
"Alright, hun." She says. "You can look, now."

If in the parade, I was a pirate, now I'm the sea itself. My long-sleeved dress shirt is embroidered with different shades of blue thread, and the stiches are so fine they almost seem to blend together. If I look at it too long, it almost seems to ripple, an ocean on a quiet morning. I'm not going to lie, it's the most beautiful article of clothing that I've ever seen. The shirt was paired with a pair of navy dress pants so dark they almost appear black- it's tucked in halfway and the top three shirt-buttons are undone.
I let my eyes travel up to my face. I'm wearing a lot less makeup than I was for the parade- its sheer enough that some of my freckles are visible, but my skin seems to have some sort of golden sheen.
"You guys did a really good job." I admit, shooting my prep team and stylist a smile.
I'm rewarded with four beams. Mermaid-Man- or Mak, I suppose, looks like he's about to say something, but is interrupted by a gentle knock on the door.
"We should get going, now." Mags' soft voice calls.
Kortney fusses with my shirt for a second before shooing me out the door.
"You've got this, Finnick!" She cheers.
Mags gasps a little when she sees me.
"Oh, hi, honey. You look so nice." She smiles a little, stumbling on her feet a little bit. I offer her my arm, and the two of us head towards the elevator. Caprice is being escorted by Callen, giving him a much angrier look than the one I direct at Mags.
To be honest, I don't remember much of the elevator ride. Right here, right now, is the absolute best chance I have to win any sort of sponsors, a fact that hasn't escaped my notice. I force myself to stop trembling as I let Mags lead me towards some sort of line- I'm eighth, Caprice just in front of me. Tulle, who leads the line, is as nervous as I've ever seen her, but even scared she looks intimidating. I ponder the idea of trying to talk to her, but before I get the nerve to approach, the national anthem is blaring.
Following the anthem, the jovial voice of Caesar Flickerman echoing through the room.
"Welcome, welcome... to the interviews for the 65TH HUNGER GAMES!" He yells. The audience expresses their delight with raucous cheering, whistling and hooting.
"Now, who's ready to meet this years' tributes?" He asks, spreading his arms in a questioning pose.
The audience cheers again, to which Caesar nods thoughtfully. His hair and makeup are a bright shade of teal this year, and he almost seems to glow in the fluorescence of the stage.
"Alright then! Without further Ado, let's have our girl tribute from District One... Tulle!"

Tulle struts out onto the stage. Her dress, which primarily seems to be created of... well, Tulle, is long and tight, wrapping around her entire body. She gives Ceasar a dazzling smile.
As Tulle goes on, it's clear her dazzling exterior is backed by a fierce viciousness. Caesar compliments her high training score, asks if she has any particular strategy, and then she's flouncing back into the wings. Corduroy follows, loud and proud, very much giving off the confident volunteer from District One. Vera is meaner than usual, snapping at Caesar and her voice only softening when he mentions her sister. Cade barely says two sentences, and combined with the dark color of his clothing, he's clearly going for mysterious.
Reema and Flick from District three are clearly very clever.
And then suddenly it's Caprice, gorgeous in a dress that almost seemed to be made of water itself.
She's sweet as always, laughing at Caesar's jokes and complimenting everything from the food to the showers here in the Capitol. Her demeanor sharpens only when Caesar asks about her strategy in the games.
Caprice shrugs, sending the audience a smug smile. "Oh, Caesar, I suppose you'll see." She croons. Caesar laughs delightedly.
"I suppose I shall, darling, I suppose I shall. Well, ladies and gentlemen, Caprice Cresta from district four!"
They both rise, Caesar grasping Caprice's hand and raising it high in the air.
Caprice walks off and then, suddenly, before I am even remotely ready, it's my turn.

Caesar calls my name and, dazed, I'm walking onto the stage. I give myself three deep breaths to collect myself, and then force myself to send the audience a rakish grin.
The audience goes crazy, hollering and waving at me. I saunter over towards Caesar and toss him another smile.
Caesar whistles. "Hello, Hello, Finnick!" He shoots the audience an almost amazed look. "Quite the looker, isn't he?" He stage whispers. The audience grows even louder, expressing their agreement. I'm sure I'm blushing fiercely, but I force myself to smile again. "Why, thank you, Caesar." I drawl, sprawling on the chaise and winking at him.
Caesar draws a hand to his chest.
"My, you're making me blush. And clearly you impressed the Gamemakers too- a ten? And you're what, fourteen?"
I shrug, nonchalant. "Fourteen times better than any of my competitors, maybe."
Caesar's blue eyebrows shoot up.
"So would you say you're pretty confident?"
"I would say that, yeah." I say, hiding trembling hands that portray the exact opposite sentiment.
Caesar nods slowly. "Good, good. I love to see that. Now, Finnick. Gorgeous thing like you, I'm sure you have a special someone at home?"
A brown curly head and a pair of green eyes flash before my mind before I can stop them, but I just smirk at Caesar.
"Jeez, you could ask me out for coffee or something, first." I taunt.
The audience hoots with laughter. I hear more than one rendition of "I'll ask him out for coffee!"
Caesar fans himself a little bit, sending me a expression of pretend flirtation. "Well, don't mind if I do..."
I shoot him another wink. "Tell you what, Caesar, when I make it out of this thing, we can have as much coffee as you want- though Ill have to put bucketfuls of sugar in mine." I turn to the audience with an expression of mock-horror. "You can't tell, can you?" They laugh and assure me that they most definitely can not. Which makes sense, because I've never had sugar in my coffee- or coffee at all- in my life.
"Oh, good. Yeah, no girlfriends', Caesar." I confirm, turning back towards the host.
Caesar shrugs. "Well, if you win this thing, you've have your pick of the litter, won't you?"
I smile slowly. "I think I have my pick of the litter already, Caesar..." I gesture towards the audience.
Caesar laughs. "So you do, so you do. Well, Finnick Odair, anything else to say?"
"Nah." I say, shrugging. "I'll be seeing you all again soon enough."
Caesar and the audience hoot with delight, before Caesar seizes my hand and thrusts it in the air.
"Well said, Finnick, well said! Everybody, Finnick Odair, district four!" He bellows. I grin,standing there for a couple of seconds before walking off the stage.



When I'm out of sight, I take several deep breaths. Caprice sends me an encouraging smile.
"Great job, Fin." She mutters, quiet enough that no one could hear. "You really sold the swaggering peacock performance." I return the smile.
"Thanks." I whisper back. "The audience seemed to think so, too."

The two of us go quiet when Nessa from District Five begins to speak. I keep half an eye on the tributes that are being interviewed while simultaneously recalling my own and trying to calm myself down. I raise my shoe and fuss with the laces- the familiar feel of the laces, as always, is soothing. Then it's Rowan's turn, and I turn to listen.
She's all dry humour, witty and clever. Her dress, which shifts a little as she motions to someone in the audience, looks to be made of tree bark, although I can't imagine it is- that would be obscenely uncomfortable. The audience seems to like her enough, laughing at her jokes and murmuring appreciatley when Caesar asks about her score.

And then... then it's Jasper. I'm about 75% sure they bleep out any bad words, and I'm imagining anyone watching from home would just hear Beep, beep, yeah, I'm beep, beep. He's snarky and mean, making fun of everything from Caesar's hair to the other tributes' outfits. His shirt is made of the same material as Rowan's dress, his dark hair styled. Caprice's jaw has just about hit the ground as she oogles him. The audience, however, is in uproar, howling as he tears egos to shreds and looks damn good doing it.
Soon enough, Jasper's minutes are over and he comes stomping off. Rowan beams at him and he smirks at her, muttering something too low for me to hear.
District Eight are both very quiet, District nine timid, District Ten loud and somewhat awkward. Robyn and Tein draw gasps from the audience- she is charming, he is sly and elusive.
Then it's Etta, who, contrary to her slight appearance, chatters up a storm. Caesar seems like he doesn't know exactly what to say, but he compliments her dress and asks her about her family, both of which she answers with gusto. She spends every second of her three minutes talking, and when the bell goes off, the audience applauds with expressions of mild bewilderance.
Finally it's Levi, whose eyes are wide with terror and who barely manages to stutter one word answers. Caesar seems relieved, though, as he doesn't have to deal with another Etta.

Three minutes later, Levi's bell goes, the anthem plays, and Caprice and I trudge back towards the elevators. I'm thoroughly exhausted, but I know I won't be getting any sleep tonight. Because tomorrow- tomorrow, the games begin.

Chapter 8: At Least I'll Die Pretty

The Games are tomorrow.

I'm lying in bed, and sleep seems impossible.
I can't stop tossing and turning, imagining possible situations.
I might be dead by this time tomorrow.
Forest, desert, Savannah, swamp... I hope there's at least water. And trees, trees would be good.
But trees make me think of Jasper, who also might be dead in twenty four hours.
Who put himself at risk to help a little boy.
None of this is fair. None of this is fair and I hate that I can do nothing about it. That 23 of us will be nothing but bones and the sole survivor will live a half-live, being paraded around the Capitol and forced to mentor for the rest of their lives. It's not fair.

At 3:00 AM, when I realize that I'm not going to sleep, I rise to my feet and trot towards the bathroom. Water. Water.
I switch the shower on, and perhaps it senses my need for comfort, because I get a steady torrent that pours onto my head. Almost like a waterfall.
I sit under the water for what must be hours, letting it wash over me and drown out my thoughts.
I'm safe here.

I stay under the water until I hear a sharp rap on the door. It's Celestine, I believe, and so I brace myself to step out. Per usual, the air blowers dry me within seconds. I throw my sleeping clothes on, figuring I'll be changing anyway.

Celestine is chipper but unusally sober, informing me that we'll be having a quick breakfast before Kortney and I head to the launch room. It's brand new, of course, I'll be the first and only tribute to use it- but I'm much too terrified to think about how much that must have cost.
Caprice is already at the table, picking at some spiraling pastry I've learned is called a croissant.
Mags, who is practically shaking, gives me a timid smile. I sit down beside her and try my best to return the expression, though I don't think I really succeed. I don't bother with food, as even though I'm sure I'll regret that particular decision very soon, I'm afraid I'll throw up if I try.

So we sit. And we wait. For hours, in silence. Even Callen is quiet, stewing in the corner with Celestine at his side. Mags is quivering now, Caprice is staring out the window, and I'm trying not to think of Kelton or Mom or Dad. Or Jasper, or Rowan, or Etta or Flick, who I'll have to kill to get home to them.

I almost wish these things would just start- the anticipation is what's really killing me. A second later, my wish is granted- Kortney appears, her pretty face grave.
"It's time."

We rise to our feet and are escorted into a helicopter. All the other tributes are there, strapped into seats. A lady comes around, syringe in hand.
Jasper, two seats down from Rowan and dark eyes alight with barely concealed rage, jerks away.
"What the fuck is that?" He growls, moving again when the lady tries to inject it into his arm.
"Your tracker." She snarls. "Don't move, or I'll tranquilize you."
Jasper glares at her for a solid minute before surrendering, letting her push the tracker into his left arm. We all get the same treatment, but I barely register the pain, only able to focus on the likelihood of my death.
Then we're there and Kortney and I are in our own room.

I shower. Kortney helps me into my clothing- moisture wicking wind pants and a matching jacket, with a tight tank top underneath. It's paired with boots that go to just under my knees, skinny enough to tuck under my pants. And then there's nothing to do but wait. Kortney beholds me with an expression that is clearly pity.
"Finnick." She says softly, resting an arm on my elbow. I turn, unable to stop the tears from bedding in my eyes.
"I'm sorry." She murmurs, tracing small circles on my back with her other hand. Just like my mother did. "I'm so sorry. Be brave, okay? It's not over yet. Be brave." I close my eyes, trying not to picture the faces of the other tributes. Tulle, Corduroy, Cade, Vera, Reema, Flick, Caprice, Nessa, Milo, Juno, Mason, Jasper, Rowan, Alden, Maris, Willa, Reid, Tansley, Wess, Robyn, Tein, Etta, Levi. Some of them will die today. I might kill some of them. I might-
"Sixty seconds till launch." A female voice, the same one from the elevator, announces with far too much enthusiasm for me.
Kortney shoots to her feet, adjusting my jacket, zipping it up, and then patting me on the cheek.
"You've got this, kid." She breathes, pulling me into a tight hug. "Be brave. Be strong for your family. I believe in you."
"Forty seconds till launch."
Kortney doesn't let me go.
"Twenty seconds."
"Ten."
"Five."
"Four."
I break out of the hug. Face the tube. It's open, taunting.
"Three."
I take a deep breath.
"Two.
I step into the tube.
"One."

Let the Hunger Games begin.

Chapter 9: Six Cannons- Games Day 1

Summary:

Hey so this chapter is the first one that's actually in the games- so there's going to be blood and death and stuff. Also mentions of suicide.

The tube shoots up.
I'm blinded for a second, my eyes unused to the bright sun. They adjust quickly however, and I take in my surroundings.

The Cornucopia, a blinding shade of gold, sits probably fifty meters in front of me. I'm directly in front of the mouth, giving me an advantage- I spy spears and knives tucked inside. However, it's surrounded by a throthing river with rapids moving so quickly it can't be natural. If any tribute- except for Caprice or I- tried to enter, they'd be swept away and hit their head.

Jasper, stationed to my right, swivels to look behind him. There's a rough, jungle looking forest, vines weaving around all the trees. Birds caw from the trees, and I'm sure other animals lurk in it's depths. Beyond the Cornucopia, the tail points to a hazy area that looks to be some sort of swamp. Judging by the smell, I doubt anything lives there except mutts. It's probably even more dangerous than the jungle. Still, it'll be safer than trying to get to one of the bridges.
Two paths, probably a meter thick and two long, lead over the rapids and to the Cornucopia. Anyone clever enough to realize the rapids are deadly would have to use the bridges to get to the loot. And whoever gets to the weapons first will turn them into a deathtrap.
Even my allies might not want to waste a stellar opportunity to get rid of me. Which means I need to get to the knives first.
A steady heartbeat marks the minute we have to stand here- only twenty seconds remain.
Tulle and Cade are closest to the bridges, and though I'm taller than both, I'm not fast enough to beat them there.
But I know I'm a faster swimmer than either of them could run up those steep bridges. If I make for the water, and swim across...

I've made my decision.

The creepy voice begins to count down from ten. Maris, to my left, looks like she's about to burst out in tears. Jasper's gaze is now locked on Rowan, three pedestals to his left. I don't see Caprice.

"Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Five. Four. Three. Two. One."

 

Go, Finnick. Go. Fear and Adrenline pump through me, propelling my body. I leap off the platform and begin to sprint for the river, which I reach within seconds. Tulle, Cade, and about a third of the tributes have run for the bridges. Two thirds have run into the forest, or the other way, a hazy area that looks vaguely swamp-like.

I slip into the river, hissing at the cold. The current is strong, stronger than I've ever had to face- but I'm from district four. Water is my home turf. Gritting my teeth, I cut through the water. My arms burn, and I want to give up.... but I picture Kelton in my head, laughing at how slow I am, how his grandma could swim faster than me. I grit my teeth and kick. And kick. My left leg scrapes against some sort of rock, and I lose momentum, spinning sideways for a second before I'm able to regain my composure and continue swimming. And then finally, finally, I grab onto the shore and pull myself out.

I'm dripping wet and shaking with cold, but that doesn't seem as big of a problem now that I'm surrounded by knives. I seize a backpack, lock my fingers around a spear, and tuck several knives into my belt before another tribute is even close to me. Grinning with relief, I figure the mouth of the Cornucopia, where my back is guarded, is probably one of the safer places to be. I step inside, willing my pounding heart to quiet, and I survey the bridge, where Tulle is sprinting towards me. To my shock, Rowan from Seven is at her heels, with Robyn and Tein dangerously close to the younger girl.

I can only watch with bated breath as Robyn nears Rowan. "Run, run, run!" I urge her under my breath. But Robyn, who towers over the District Seven tribute, is quicker and stronger. With a lunge towards Rowan, Robyn grins as she shoves her off the side of the bridge. I gasp, every bone in my body wanting to run towards her, to help her. I could save her. But I can't. I can't, or Robyn will kill me, too.
Rowan hits the water with a splash, and I hear a panicked bellow from Jasper, who seemed to have been waiting for her. Robyn grins down at Jasper, triumph radiating through her. And then she and Tulle begin to jog up the bridge again, heading towards me and the prizes.
I watch as they approach, grins on their faces. Tulle seizes a bow and arrow before rising to her feet.
She cocks her head to the side. "You take that side with Tein. Robyn and I'll get them." She orders, giving me a light shove towards the left. I ignore her, unable to peel my eyes from Rowan, whose limp body is being propelled through the river. She's not sinking, I remind myself. She didn't hit her head. She could be alive. Tulle shoves me again, and I manage to stumble behind Tein, who has found some sort of sword. He grins wickedly as Alden and Tansley, who seemed to have formed an alliance, approach from the second bridge, young faces set with determination.
Screams begin to sound from the other side of the island, and I have no doubt that Robyn and Tulle are responsible for them- I can hear Robyn's laughter and Tulle's voice as a male cry of pain echoes.

Tein waits for a second, eyes locked on the two kids who now run towards the center of the Cornucopia. Too quickly for me too stop him, he darts forwards in a sprint, his sword flashing as he buries it into Alden's throat.
I can only watch, heart in throat, as the boy falls, neck slashed open. Tansley is clever enough to back away, letting out a hoarse scream as her ally is- as he's killed.
He's dead. He's dead. He's dead and I didn't do anything to save him-

Jasper's yell tears my eyes from the dead boy.
He's fished Rowan out of the river and now runs towards the forest with her in his arms.
Tein, who watches Tansleywith deadly anticipation, notices my looking and flashes me a smile.
"Go get them. Go on." He nods towards the two from District Seven.
Jasper, who I know is quite fast, can move at only half his normal speed with Rowan's weight.
When I don't move, Tein shrugs. "Or you could take care of her and I'll get them..."

That gets me moving. I'm not going to let Tein kill them. Not when Jasper has risked his only life to save Rowan. Not when he saved Flick. I may have failed Alden, may have doomed Tansley. But he will not kill the tributes from District Seven. Not on my watch.
I'm at Jasper's side within seconds, and he glances back at me, terror and grief apparent on his face.

"Well?" He growls, when I'm close enough to reach out and touch him.
"Aren't you going to kill me?" He slows nearly to a stop, laying the still-breathing Rowan gently behind him.
He takes up a defensive stance as though he'll protect her from me, even at the expense of his own life.
"No. No, I-"
Jasper shuts his eyes briefly.
"Finnick, if you're going to do it, do it now. And quickly. Please." His voice is strong, though his chin trembles slightly. His fingers find his token, a roughly made necklace of pine branches and needles.
"I'm not going to kill you. Go, run. Hit me, and run. Bring Rowan. Now." I order, sounding older than fourteen.
Jasper's eyes are wide. "Why?" He breathes.
"Just do it."

He does, socking me so hard in the face I stumble back. He seizes Rowan and begins to run with renewed energy, reaching the forest within seconds.

I exhale before turning back. Tein is covered in blood, Tansley and Alden dead in front of him. Robyn's knife is embedded in Maris' back, and Tulle has sent arrows through two people, though I can't see who they are from afar. Caprice and Vera, who appear to have stuck together, are running towards the Cornucopia. I force myself to rise to my feet, ignoring the throbbing in my nose (Did Jasper really have to hit that hard?) All of the other tributes are either dead or escaped, leaving Cade, Corduroy, Robyn, Tein, Caprice, Vera and I clustering around on the little island.

Tein laughs when he sees me.
"Did you get them, District Four?" He asks, thumping me on the back.

Relief courses through me like a wave. He didn't see me let them go.
"Yup." I confirm. Caprice turns to me, barely restrained shock clear in her features.
She thinks I've killed them, Jasper and Rowan. She thinks I'm a murderer.
Tulle, whose blonde hair is red with blood, cocks her head to the side as the cannons begin.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five... Six. I see five bodies, but... who is the sixth? Rowan, possibly.

Caprice looks queasy, leaning heavily against Vera.
Cade just frowns, counting on his fingers. "You got the little runt from 12 and the loud one from 10, right?" He addresses Tulle, who nods.

Levi and Wess. Dead. Not "The runt from twelve" or "The loud one from 10" But real, actual people. Who had families. Dead.
God, I'm going to be sick.
Cade surveys Tansley, Alden, and Maris.
"That's five, then." He turns to me. "You sure you killed both from Seven?" His voice, quiet as it is, is laced with suspicion.
I force myself to grin, copying an expression I've seen so many times on Corduroy, on Robyn.
"I hurt them bad enough that they won't be surviving the night." I vow, praying that it isn't true.

Vera shoots me a glare. She must think I'm as bad as the rest of them. But it's okay. Because Jasper and Rowan will be fine. They have to be.
Tulle bares her teeth in feral amusement. "Nice. Now. Let's get started, shall we?"

 

None of my fellow Careers like the idea of being cooped up on the island, where we could be easily ambushed by mutts or other tributes. So we slowly begin to move the supplies out towards the pedestals, creating a semi circle of stuff.
Cade seems to be analyzing our things, and whatever he sees, he likes.
"There's enough food to last us a month." He announces. "Enough weapons to power a small battalion. And enough medicine for about seven first aid kits."
Meanwhile, the other tributes will have nothing. Nothing at all.
Caprice's eyes flash with rage, but she has the good sense to remain quiet, her and Vera lugging some sort of tent from the Cornucopia.
Tulle nods slowly, assessing the loot. When everything has been brought out of the Cornucopia and their various backpacks and arranged neatly in stacks depending on their use, her eyes lift slowly to us.

"Robyn, Vera, Corduroy." She rises to her feet and ambles towards one of the many arranged backpacks.
"Pack a bag and stock up on weapons. We're going hunting."

 

The four of them have been gone for at least an hour. Tein and Cade had grumbled about not being allowed to accompany them, but after Robyn threatened to send a knife through their skulls if they don't obey, they quieted quickly. Now they just mutter mutinously.
Caprice has not stopped shaking, and I move to sit beside her.
"I didn't do it, Caprice." I mutter. "I didn't kill anyone."
She sends me a glance. "Did you- hurt them?" She breathes back. I shake my head.
"Robyn shoved Rowan off the bridge. Jasper grabbed her and they both escaped into the forest." I inform. Caprice's eyes flash with relief, but it quickly turns to sorrow as she looks up.
Maris, Alden, and the others had been picked up by hovercraft already. Caprice had teared up a little bit, and it had taken Vera and I trodding on her foot to keep her from full out crying.
"Six people are dead, Finnick. Six families are in tears right now. Because of us." She leans against one of the pedestals wearily. "Not because of us. Because of the Capitol." My voice is barely loud enough for her to hear. I don't need the cameras picking up on that. "Because of them and because of the Careers." Caprice says, sending Tein a glare. "They just want to live, same as us." I point out. Caprice shrugs. "Maybe Tein and Robyn and Vera. But Cade, Corduroy and Tulle volunteered." I lapse into silence at that. It's true, I suppose. Just then, a cannon erupts. Caprice jerks, startled. "They probably found someone." She says, eyes blurring again. And indeed, when the skies start to darken, Robyn comes back with fresh blood on her knife. Tein is already on his feet, scanning his district partner for any injuries. Once he's satisfied with her state, he turns to Tulle. "Who?" I hold my breath. "Girl from three." Robyn says, eyes darkening with malice. "Any sign of anyone else?" I interject. Corduroy nods. "We found a snare. Hadn't caught anything, but I broke it." He reports. Tulle scoffs. "Yah, because you tripped over it and landed on your ass." Corduroy scowls at her. "I still broke it." Vera sends me a long suffering look, and I'm about to respond when the first notes of the anthem begin to play.

Chapter 10: Blood Moon- Games Night 1

Summary:

Blood, death, etc

At home, we'd watch as the tributes die.
Here, we only see their faces, flashing across the screen for maybe half a second.
That's what their lives are worth.
Half a second.

First is Reema, the girl from District Three. I remember she was quick and clever, full of smiles for everybody. Her glasses made her eyes look bigger than they were.

Then it skips ahead all the way to District Eight, where both the tributes, Maris and Alden, are dead. Maris is very tall and willowy- I remember she had so many siblings at her reaping- two younger, two older. She looked to be about fifteen.
Alden was older, probably seventeen. I remember he was quiet and morose, always hanging around Maris or the tributes from Ten.

Willa from District Nine is next- she's the random cannon that went. The one the Careers didn't kill. I wonder what happened to her- maybe some animal in the jungle, maybe suicide. Could have been anything, with the games. I recall she was always giggling, teasing her district partner, Reid and tripping over everything.

Alden's allies from District Ten, Tansley and Wess, are next. Tansley doesn't smile, her face is set in a scowl. She was loud, but only because she was always muttering about the Capitol and how stupid this all is. I think I would have befriended her, if she was from home. Kelton would have loved her.
Wess, who was short and stocky but whose equally loud voice echoed through the training room, is grinning ear to ear in his photo. He's eighteen, I know, and he had to detangle a sobbing mother from his arm at the reaping.

Levi, who barely reached my shoulders, is the final death of the day. He looks so small, so helpless in his photo. Who was only twelve, who never got a chance to live.

Tears are pouring down my face. I turn my face away from the others, hiding this moment of weakness. I shouldn't cry for them. I shouldn't.
It should be music to my ears every time that cannon goes off.
But it's not, because children are dead.

My sadness, however, is replaced by rage when I hear Robyn's whoops.
"Seven down, seventeen to go!" She calls to the sky, standing up and doing a little twirling dance.
I grit my teeth. I need to control my temper, I need to not yell at her-
"Shut up, Robyn." Caprice snarls, rising to her feet and going nose to nose with the tribute from 11.
Caprice is shorter, but she seems to tower over the other girl.
Robyn's eyebrows shoot up.
"Christ, Cresta, calm the fuck down. Excuse me for wanting to get out of this shithole."
Caprice bares her teeth, looking more dangerous then I've ever seen her. But she turns and stomps back towards me, settling down with a huff.
I shoot her a glance.
"You okay?" I'm embarrassed at how my voice cracks.
Caprice shrugs bitterly. "I liked most of them. Did you know that Wess came up to me in training? Asked me if we could be allies. I had to tell him no, Finnick. Had to tell him that I was a Career. I had to watch him be so, so disappointed. And I think he could tell how heartbroken I was- he hugged me, told me he didn't blame me, how I just wanted to live. How he knew I was a good person. He thought I was good, and I did nothing to keep him alive. My allies killed him."
I can't stop the tears when they come again. Caprice notices, slinging her arm around my shoulder. I lean my head against hers, feeling it quiver as she cries as well.

The fierce, bloodthirsty, cocky Careers from district four. Crying over the dead tributes.
We're probably losing sponsors by the second, but I can't bring myself to care.

Eventually, Caprice looks up. Tulle, Cade, Vera and Tein are asleep, Corduroy and Robyn apparently standing guard.
"You should try to sleep, Fin." She mutters. "I'll take first watch."
I'm too tired to argue. I didn't sleep at all last night, and these tears have drained more than salt from me.
I fall into an uneasy sleep. My dreams are full of Wess' screams and how Alden looked as he crumpled to the ground. Jasper's terror as he beheld me, Rowan's limp form as she's taken by the river.
I jerk awake at what is probably around three in the morning. Caprice leans against one of the pedestals, a spear resting across her lap. She's facing the forest, but I can tell she looks towards the other Careers, deeming them the biggest threat. I force myself to rise, nudging her with my shoulder.
"I'll take watch, now." I mutter. Caprice nods drowsily. "Thanks." I don't want to wallow in my misery, so instead I make my way to Vera, who I presume relieved the now sleeping Robyn of standing guard.
"Hello." I breathe.
Vera smiles slightly. "Hi, Fin." She glances around as if checking to make sure the others are asleep. "I can't help but notice neither tribute from District seven appeared in the sky tonight." She says quietly, but not suspiciously. As if she already knows.
"I let them go." I confess. Although it's probably not the wisest of plans, I trust Vera. I don't think she wants me dead.
"I figured." She says, fidgeting a little bit. "You don't seem like the type to- to let them bleed out slowly."
She smiles a little. "Especially not when your district partner is so infatuated with the boy."
I muffle a chuckle. "Yes, well, as gorgeous as he is, he saved Rowan from death even when it put him in danger. I- I couldn't bring myself to..." I trail off. Judging by the respect that glows in Vera's eyes, she understands.

We're silent for a second before Vera speaks again.
"That boy. The one you comforted at the reaping. Was he your brother?" She asks, shifting a little closer.
I smile, picturing Kelton. "Not by blood, but yes in all the ways that matter." I respond.
Vera's slim face tightens a little bit. "What's his name?" Her voice is so quiet I can barely hear.
"Kelton." I breathe. "His name is Kelton."
"My sister's name is Blaire." She says after a moment of quiet. "She's thirteen. Smartest person I know. I love her more than anything."
"You volunteered for her, right?" Vera nods slowly.
"She was- is, terrified of the Games. And she's so young... she had no chance." She looks quickly at me, as if realising my age. I smile to show I take no offence, and Vera exhales, continuing. "I couldn't let that happen. Blaire's a better person than I'll ever be." She gives me a sidelong look.
"Would you have volunteered... for Kelton, if it were him?"
It doesn't take much thinking. "Yeah. I would have."
She shoots me a sad smile. "When I die... when I die, Finnick, take my token. Give it back to Blaire." She requests. I frown slightly, and she clarifies. "On your Victory Tour, I mean."
She interrupts my scoff. "Something tells me you're going to be the one to get out of here. Wouldn't you want Kelton to have something left of you?"
Arguing with her will be futile. I suppose I should just agree.
"Fine." I think about what Annie said to me.
"If I die before Caprice, before you... take us back to the water." I request.
Vera doesn't ask why, but simply nods.

I think perhaps I like my ally from District Two.
"Are you scared?" She asks suddenly "Of Death."
I consider for a second. "No." I decide. "My mother... she told me when we die, we go to someplace that's always warm and always has enough food. Where's there's no Games. We'll all end up there some day."
Vera shuts her eyes. "What does it look like?" She breathes.
"A beach." I say simply. "She said it was a beach."
Her eyes open again.
"Blaire would like that, I think. She always loved the water." Her expression is bittersweet as she talks about her sister.
"I always told her she'd been born in the wrong District."
My eyes blur with tears. "What's District Two like?" I ask, trying to picture where my ally grew up. Where the little sister whom she loved so much now watched her on a screen.
"It's big. Bigger than any of the districts we passed through to get here. Lots of Peacekeepers, lots of big buildings. Not a lot of... of nature." Another ghost of a smile passed across Vera's face. "Blaire wanted to be a Peacekeeper. Not because of the money, or the job, or anything like that. My little mermaid wanted to move to District Four so she could dance in the waves."

Maybe I'd taken the nature, the beauty of my home for granted. Blaire's dream to dance in the sea... it's something I can do everyday. Or could, I suppose.

Vera and I sit there in silence for what must have been an hour.

The sun begins to rise, orange and bright and insufferably cheerful. No one died this night- but the odds are, some one will this day. I might die today. I might kill today.
Blaire might have to watch as Vera is killed or kills today.
The sun shines off the Cornucopia, giving it an ethereal glow. Making the symbol of the Capitol's torment look heavenly instead of the hell that it is. I want to destroy it, slash my knives across it.

I want to destroy the Capitol.

Chapter 11: Green, Mean, Killing Machine -Games Day 2

Caprice is yawning this morning. Tulle is grumpier than usual, and even Vera is shorter than usual.
Robyn is the only one in good spirits, chattering amiably to Tein and practically skipping with joy.
"Who's hungry for breakfast?" She asks, lobbing an apple at Corduroy's head.
He catches it with an eyeroll, biting into it with a crunch.
"Why are you so spry this morning?" Cade grumbles, rubbing his dark eyes with his palm.
Robyn shrugs. "It's a beautiful day."

It was, too my displeasure. Too beautiful for the grimness of our situation.
Tulle rolls her eyes. "Who's coming with me?" She snatches another apple from the strange mesh sack that carries dozens.
"Where are you going?" I mumble, blinking a few times to get the sleep out of my eyes.
Corduroy snorts, mouth full with apple. "This place can't be too big. Besides-" He sends me a glare. "The cocky dick from Seven is still out there. I want him dead." I swallow a gulp.
Vera snorts. "Because he handed you your ass that one day at training?"
Corduroy huffs. "Because he's a dick. And dangerous, too. He got an Eight." He crunches the rest of the apple and lobs the core towards the river.
Tulle laughs. "If we find him, we'll draw lots for who gets the kill." She promises. Corduroy shoots her a grin. "Deal."
I risk a glance at Caprice, whose face is turning red. Vera looks green.

"I'm coming." I decide. At least I can grant Jasper a quicker death than the one that Corduroy or Tulle seem to be planning.
Tulle shoots me a smirk. "Alright. Cade, Vera, Tein, you stay here." She orders, turning to Caprice. "You coming?"
"No." She bites back. "I'll stay with Vera and them."
"Suit yourself. Get some weapons and we'll go."

Soon enough, I'm tramping into the jungle, three knives hanging from my belt and a spear in my hands. Tulle is whining about how humid it is, and even Robyn has started to frown. Mosquitos hover around us, and I might be worried they were poisonous if not for the fact we've been eaten alive for hours and are still breathing.
"District Seven are probably dead at this point." Corduroy mutters. "Probably had all the blood sucked out of them by fucking bugs at this point."
Tulle huffs agreement. "We haven't seen hide nor hair or any of them. Also, I'm hungry. Let's go back."
Just then, Robyn says sharply "Hey. Look at this." She gestures towards one of the many, many, trees. Except this one has a massive cleave in the shape of an axe in the side.
"The Lumberjack, do you think?" Tulle asks, stepping forwards and running a finger over the mark.
Robyn frowns. "Did he get close enough to the Cornucopia to get it?" She wonders.
He didn't. I know that for a fact. Corduroy shakes his head.

"An animal, then?" No. It wasn't. The slice is too deliberate, too clean. It was an axe, for sure.
Robyn voices my thoughts. "No. Did any of them get close enough to get this?"
Tulle shakes her head. "No."
"A sponsor gift?" Corduroy wonders.
Robyn shoots him a look. "Seriously? An axe? Weapons cost a fortune to send, and the lumberjack isn't promising enough for that."
"How the fuck do you think they got it, then?" He retorts.

And suddenly, I know. He must have stolen it. From us, last night. When Vera and I were slacking off on our guarding job.
Thankfully, the Careers aren't clever enough to come to that particular conclusion, eventually deciding it must have been a Gamemaker design flaw or something.
I know better. Jasper's clever enough. And he probably needed bandages or something for Rowan, so he would have had to steal from us anyway.

Tulle lets out a great sigh. "Alright. It's lunch time. We'll send the others out afterwards."
"Maybe we should try looking the other way. Towards the bog." Robyn muses. "Since there's clearly not too many people in here."
Tulle shrugs. "Worth a shot. Let's go."

Vera and Cade and the others are devouring some sort of cracker, Caprice gnawing at some sort of fruit bar.
Cade smirks when he sees us. "No luck, I see?" Caprice turns as well, the same question in her eyes.
I shake my head just the tiniest bit. Relief is clear on her face.
"Chuck me an apple. I'm covered in bug bites and if I don't stop itching I'm going to claw my own skin off." Tulle orders. Cade obliges, throwing an apple high in the air towards her.
I scratch at my own arm haphazardly, scowling. "Fuck, is there any sort of itch cream in our dozens of first aid kits?" I demand.
Vera shrugs. "I thought there was, but I couldn't find it."
That would be Jasper.
I scratch again, hard enough to draw blood.
"Chuck some water." I demand. "maybe it'll help to wash them out."

"You won't need it." Caprice says, her gaze turned towards the sky. "I'm guessing that's for you, Fin." And indeed, the parachute, which I'm assuming contains itch cream, lands directly on my lap.
I screw off the cap and unearth the tub of cream.

I can't get the lid off quickly enough, squelching the cream onto my pointer finger and rubbing it into the welts.
"Oh, thank God." I exhale in relief. Once my arms have been thoroughly doused, I squirt some more on my palm and rub it into my neck.
Once I'm done, I look up and spy Tulle, who is staring at the parachute.

I can't tell if she's angry because of my gift, or angry because I'm the one who got it. I offer the tube to her. "Want some?" I demand.
Tulle nods, snatching it from my hand. Corduroy nudges her, and a second later she clears her throat. "Oh. Um. Thanks."
I shrug. "No problem. Pass an app-"

A scream cuts through the clearing then.

Tulle jerks to her feet. "Where did that come from?" She asks, whirling towards Robyn, who has also stoood up, knives drawn. The tribute from District 11 nods towards the bog, where I can vaguely see two figures dashing towards us. It's not Jasper and Rowan- Neither are tall enough to be him, nor short enough to be her.

"What's wrong with them?" Cade has tossed Tulle a bow and arrow and has seized a sword.
Caprice turns pale. "They're being chased by something." She breathes. "Look." And indeed, the two tributes, who I can now tell are both of the Tributes from District Six, Juno and Mason are being pursued by.... something. An animal.
It looks like a massive lizard, although its massive and scaly and has sharp teeth.
Tulle swears under her breath. "Fuck. It's a crocodile mutt." She whispers.

A crocodile. I've never heard of such a thing, but judging by the way Mason and Juno run, it's deadly. I palm the spear, ready to thrust it into the beast's head if I need too. But when Juno and Mason get within twenty meters of us, it simply stops, observing them as they bend over, gasping for breath.

The Gamemakers didn't want the Crocodile to hurt them, I realize. They wanted to push them towards us.
It's clear that Tulle has just registered the same thing, as she nocks an arrow, directing it at Mason. Cade notices, drawing his knives with a shing.
Caprice can't stop a scream of fear as he darts towards Juno, as quick and lethal as the arrow that Tulle lets fly towards Mason.
Mason, alerted by Caprice's yell, shoots his head up just in time, finally noticing us deadly people that now pose a threat far bigger than the crocodile.
He lurches out of the arrows path, but Juno isn't so lucky.
Cade's knives flash as he sinks one into her back and the other deep into her neck.
Juno screams like she did not minutes before, falling to the ground with a sickening thud. I exhale sharply, resisting the urge to jump to my feet and run to see if I can help her. The thunder of a cannon a second later tells me the effort would have been futile. Cade's killed her.

Tulle, on the other hand, growls her frustration as she misses Mason again. He's dancing away from her shots, face drawn up in horror as he beholds his dead district partner.
His eyes are so set on Juno's fallen body that he doesn't notice he's getting closer and closer to the crocodile. Doesn't notice that it's ambled forwards close enough to- The mutt lunges, catching Mason's leg in its mouth.
He screams then, louder and more desperate than Juno. Tulle lowers her bow slowly, as if knowing shooting him will now be a waste of arrows. The crocodile will take care of Mason for her, that's certain.

I can't watch. I turn my head away, trying to block out his screams, the disgusting, bloody wet ripping sounds, as Mason is- as he's ripped apart.
Caprice looks like she's about to vomit, on her hands and knees and chest heaving.
"Vera..." She grits out, gasping for air.
I have no clue but she wants, but apparently the girl from District Two does. I look up and watch Vera as she draws a knife and lets it fly towards Mason.
I hope Blaire, watching this from miles away, sees it for what it is. Mercy.

Mason gasps as the knife meets his heart. He crumples to the ground, and I don't think I imagine the grateful look that passes over his face when he regards Vera. He knows what she's done for him, even if the crowd might not. A cannon fires, and the crocodile, which has now succeeded in it's misson, trots away, it's scaly head nodding along with its portly legs.
A hovercraft drops, collecting both Tributes from District Six. Cade trots back, his small mouth curled into a smile.

"My first kill." He notes, nodding towards Juno. Tulle rolls her eyes. "I would have had a third if that idiot-" She points towards Caprice "Hadn't screamed."
Caprice bristles. "Yeah, well, that fucking crocodile was twice my size and we saw how easily it could kill someone. It scared the living shit out of me." She says defensively.
I know it isn't the truth. I suspect Vera knows, too.
Tulle rolls her eyes again. "Yeah, well, I need the sponsors. Don't mess anything up again." She warns, getting in Caprice's face. The tribute from District One is taller than my friend, towering over her with a leer.
I stomp behind Caprice, shooting Tulle a glare.
"It was an accident. Lay off." I order.
Tulle's eyes flash. "Oh? And was it an accident that Jasper Mason still breathes? Because it looks to me like the two of you are getting in the way of our kills."

Rage courses through me like a wave against a rock, but I force a sneer onto my face. "Jasper Mason is slowly bleeding to death right now. You'll be eating those words when you hear that cannon. Now, speaking of eating, I'm going to go get some lunch. Let me know when we're going again." I huff, turning and stomping away.
Caprice follows, her pretty face screwed up in frustration.
"They're terrible." She mutters under her breath. "Terrible."
"Not Vera." I point out. "And the rest of them- they just want to live."
"Robyn, Tein, maybe. But Tulle, Corduroy, Cade? They signed up for this shit."
"Maybe they needed the money?" I suggest, although I know my suggestion is weak. There's not really any lack of money in District One or Two. Or Four, for that matter.
"Maybe." Caprice glances up. It's probably around 3PM.
"Are you going to go with them to- to look for the others?" I ask tentatively.
Caprice shrugs, bitter. "I suppose I'll have to. I can at least kill them quicker than the others would, if it comes to it."

She sounds so resigned. Caprice, who once swore she would never kill someone. I suppose mercy kills don't count- like how what Vera did wasn't murder. Still, it'll count as a kill for her. I wonder if she's okay, if she blames herself for Mason's death.
I scan the area for Vera. She's sitting with Tulle and Robyn, the three of them talking in hushed whispers. Alarm is evident in Vera's gaze, turning to pure fear when she beholds me.

Something is wrong.

Chapter 12: Two Loyal- Games Night 2

The rest of the day is eventless. Tulle leads Tein, Cade and Caprice into the bog, and the four of them come out soaking wet, grumpy, and without any success. The other tributes are doing an excellent job at hiding.

Soon enough, night has fallen. Caprice and I are leaning against each other, making a valiant effort to stay warm. It's very, very cold, and the Cornucopia failed to supply any blankets. There were sleeping bags, but I refuse to share one with Tulle, Robyn, or Corduroy, which means I'll deal with being cold. Vera, who shared that particular sentiment, is leaning against Caprice's other side. She's on guard, so technically my district Partner and I could go to sleep. The both of us trust Vera. But still, I want to see if I can catch Jasper in action. Perhaps he- or Rowan, if he's successfully revived her with his stolen medicine- will come back to loot our goods again tonight.
I'm not sure what I'll do if I catch him- certainly not call him out. Even Cade, who hadn't been given a sleeping bag but has started a small fire about a meter to our left, had winced a little when Corduroy started getting in to exactly what he had planned for the boy. No one deserved to die that way.
Vera shifts a little bit, turning her dark head towards Cade.
Perhaps not the safest of positions, he's fallen asleep not ten centimeters away from the fire. His hair is at high risk of going aflame, I'm not going to lie.
Vera suddenly pinches my shoulder, I wince, rubbing my arm and frowning at her.
"What?" I hiss, marveling at how she manages to make that hurt so much.
"Is he actually asleep?" She jerks her chin towards Cade.
I study him for a second. His breaths are deep and full, and his face looks almost angelic in sleep. Not quiet and deadly like when he's awake, but almost childlike. He almost looks his age.
"Yes." I respond, confused.
Vera's eyes flash with panic. "They're going to kill you." She whispers, frantic. "Tulle and Corduroy and Robyn. Tein's not in on it, but..."

Dread begins to pour through my body. Caprice has gone stiff.
"Why?" I demand. "When?"

Vera opens her mouth to respond, but is interrupted by the anthem blaring across the arena. Cade jerks awake, letting out a little screech of alarm at his proximity to the fire and scooting himself a safe distance away.
She shakes her head slightly. He'll hear if she continues now.

Juno's face flashes across the screen, and Cade, who looked peaceful moments ago, smiles with feral pride. Because he killed her. Because he'll get credit for that kill. Nevermind the fact that Juno had three big brothers and a tiny nephew at home, nevermind the fact that she loved building and was going to be a mechanic one day. Was going to able to support her family with her skills. No, she was just a statistic on paper to him.
It makes me hate him, a little. Even if he's grown up believing this to be an honor. If he cannot see Juno as a living human, he is as bad as the Capitol.
Vera seems to agree, regarding her district partner with poorly disguised disgust.

Her expression ripples to guilt when Mason appears next. Though the Crocodile would have eventually ended his life, she blames herself for his death.
I nudge her with my elbow. "Not your fault." I breathe. No, really it's the Capitol. For killing Mason, who loved to read and whose fluffy dog always followed him around. And even for killing Juno, for turning Cade into a killing machine who believes this is his duty. For ruining a child.
Caprice nods agreement, but Vera's expression doesn't change. Guilt, crippling, terrible guilt.
"He was so young." She murmurs, gaze fixed on the dead boy's picture in the sky. "Thirteen, maybe."

Cade rolls over, satisfied that the anthem is over. Vera glances over at him, and then presses her lips to Caprice's ear, whispering frantically. Both girls' faces drain of color, leaving them both as pale as snow.
"We need to go, Fin." Caprice hisses, leaning forwards and away from the two of us. "Now."
"Why?" I demand. "We knew they were going to kill us. That's the point of this game, isn't it?"
Vera shakes her head rapidly. "They're going to kill you tonight. Apparently you two are hindering their plans more than helping-"

BOOM. She's interrupted again, this time by a cannon. Considering all of us killers are asleep, the death must have been by natural causes. I hope it was quick, hope it was painless. But this is the hunger games, and that is probably too much to ask for. The picture of the dead tribute will be shown tomorrow night, so until then, for all I know, it could be anyone. Could be Jasper or Rowan.
But the safety of the District 7 tributes isn't my biggest worry right now. No, that would be my own safety.
"When?" I demand. "Dawn? Or when you wake one of them to take guard?" Vera shifts again, looking miserable. "I'm supposed to wait until the both of you are asleep, then rouse Robyn and Tulle, and..."

She doesn't need to finish the sentence, it's clear enough what their plan was.

I shoot to my feet, seizing my spear. Grabbing a backpack might wake my allies- who are now my enemies. "Come on, then, Caprice." I order. "We need to get out of here."
But Caprice doesn't move, staring at Vera.
"If they wake up and we're gone, they'll know it was you who warned us." She realizes, shaking her head at Vera's expression of sad resignation.
"I know." She says simply.
"They'll kill you." I say frantically, grabbing her hand and trying to tug her towards me.
Vera says again. "I know."
"Come with us, then." Caprice is rambling now, her eyes wide. "Come on, Vera, you don't have to stay with them..."

She nods slowly. "Bog or Forest?" She asks, her eyes flicking to the two options. I frown. The bog clearly plays host to all sorts of danger. Besides, I feel more comfortable among the trees, where I can stay hidden, than in the open, empty bog, where there would be nowhere to hide.
"Forest." I respond with confidence. "We'll all go. Now."

The two girls nod, rising to their feet. Vera with petite features, a slim face, and pin-straight ebony hair, is like curvy, warm-brown curly haired Caprice's shadow, I can't help but notice. Vera shoots Caprice a smile. They are friends, I realize. True friends, despite the circumstances.
"To the forest we go, then." Caprice says, eyes softening as she returns Vera's smile.
"Thank you, Vera. You- You saved us."

"She did, didn't she?"
Oh, no. Oh no, oh no, oh no.

Tulle's bow is pointed directly at Vera's chest, Robyn's knives aimed at Caprice and I.

Tulle sends us a dazzling smile. "You're not going anywhere, much less a forest." She turns those brilliant blue eyes to Vera.
"Never would have dubbed you for a traitor, but I suppose the Games- do that to people." She shrugs. "It's alright, I guess. You two-" She jerks her chin at me, then back at Vera. "- Were two dangerous to keep alive for too long."

I shoot a panicked glance at Caprice. We're going to die. We're going to die at Tulle and Robyn's-

Vera screams. "GO!" She crashes into Robyn, sending the taller girl tumbling to the ground. Tulle lets out a startled yell, and I don't waste the opportunity. I seize Caprice's arm and tear towards the forest, trying to put as much distance between me and my hunters as possible.
But Caprice doesn't want to go.
"VERA!" She cries, trying valiantly to return to her friend, her shadow. Vera angles her dark head towards Caprice. She smiles.
"Go." She mouths. "Go."

"Caprice, we've got to go." I say, my voice tight with panic. "Caprice, we can't let her sacrifice be for nothing-"
But Caprice is frozen in place.
Frozen, only able to watch.
As Tulle
sends an arrow
through Vera's throat.

"NO!" Caprice screams, crashing to her knees. "VERA!" She bellows, tears beginning to pour from her eyes. "NO! VERA!" She angles her head towards. "Finnick, we've got to help her. Maybe we can save her..."

BOOM.
And suddenly I'm crying too, for the girl from District Two. Who had a sister who she loved very much, a sister who she volunteered for. I'm crying for the girl that giggled with Caprice about Jasper, for the girl who only killed out of mercy. For the girl who knew she was going to die- who ran willingly into death's arms, so Caprice and I- her friends- might have a chance at life.

Robyn advances on us now, her knives out. And suddenly, I know- I cannot let Vera's last act, the last wish of someone who genuinely good- to go to waste. I will get Caprice out of this clearing alive. For Vera, if no one else. So I grab Caprice's arm, and I yank her to her feet.
"Come on, Cresta." I growl. "You've got to work with me, here."
Caprice turns to me, grief dulling her features. "Do it for her." I snap. "She wouldn't want you to die like this."

And that finally spurs her into motion. Caprice begins to run towards the forest, running towards our safety.
Until suddenly she's not, because she's fallen to the ground.
I inhale sharply, fear rising in my stomach.
If Caprice is dead, too, I will have lost my only allies, my only friends, in this dark, dark place.
"Caprice?" My voice is embarrassingly high, but I can't bring myself to care.
"I'm. Fine." She grits out. "Knife to. Thigh."

And indeed, one of Robyn's knives is buried deep in her thigh. Too deep for me to risk pulling out. The thrower herself is maybe twenty meters behind us, her remaining knife poised to throw.
I meet the sea green of Caprice's eyes.
They are drained of hope.

I think I'll give her some hope back.
"Get ready." I hiss. "This will hurt."

I grit my teeth. Scoop her up in my arms, as Jasper did to Rowan.

And I run.

She's not heavy, maybe 130 pounds at most. But though I'm tall, I'm not as bulky as Corduroy, and soon, my legs begin to burn. Not as bad as Caprice's thigh, though, which is pouring blood.
As for Caprice herself, she's passed out, most likely from the pain.

I want to give up.
So badly.
I want to put Caprice down and sink to the floor and cry, and let Robyn, who surely runs not far behind me, end my life.
But I cannot.
Vera died for this opportunity.
My kind, sweet ally died for this.
The least I can do is try.
For her. For Blaire.

I pump my legs as fast as I can, crashing through branches and puddles until my face is stinging and there's blood in my eyes and I can no longer hear Robyn crashing behind me through the ringing in my ears. My knees give up from under me and I crumple to the forest floor, letting Caprice slip out from my arms.
This is the best I could do.
"I'm sorry, Vera." I mutter, delusional from lack of air. I can almost picture her slim features looming above me, smiling softly.
"It's okay, Finnick." Vera says but doesn't say because she's dead. "I'm at the beach. You're safe now. Sleep."
And relief courses through me, even though it's not real. Even though Vera is not really there and I'm not really safe, I let myself follow her instructions.

Chapter 13: Pine-ing - Games Day 3

I'm expecting to see Vera when I wake.

Expecting that beach that my mother talked of.

I am not expecting to be face down in the mud in the middle of the jungle. Not expecting Caprice's weight over top of me.
This means that... somehow... I've survived.
Somehow, Robyn did not find me after I collapsed.
Somehow, somehow, somehow.

I force myself to roll over so my face is no longer buried in the dirt. It takes a minute for me to gather enough willpower to rise, to examine Caprice.
What I find is not good. her normally golden tan face is pale from blood loss. Her wound is slowly bubbling blood- slightly disgusting, but at least it's not gushing? Right? I wouldn't know. I know enough to check her breaths, like one would if they had drowned- she's breathing, but is short.

I find myself panicking, because even though we have sponsors, I wouldn't know how to use anything. I don't know how to save her.

I don't know how.

"Please." My voice is hoarse, raspy. "Mags. Help me- help me save her." I beg. "Please."

But no parachutes fall. I let out a choked sob, letting my head drop to the floor. Caprice will die. There is nothing I can do to help her. I am useless, useless, she will die because of my incompetence, Vera died for nothing and now Caprice will, too-"

I look up hopefully when I hear a rustling in the trees. Perhaps Mags has sent something? But there's no parachute in the trees.
Instead, a pair of eyes blink at me.

Deep brown, wide set eyes.

Jasper.

I lock eyes with him, and am about to beg him for his help when someone speaks.

"Who is it, Mason?" It's Rowan, whose dirty-blonde head pokes through the leaves. "Oh, fuck, aren't they Careers?" She stage whispers, shooting Jasper a glance. But his eyes are now fixed on Caprice, her wound.
"Please." My voice is barely above a whisper. "Help her."
"Help her with what, exca-"
Mags picks that moment to send a parachute spiraling down.
"I don't- I don't know how to use it. I don't know how to help her." I rasp. "Please. If you know how. Please. I'll- I'll do anything."

There's a thump as the parachute hits the ground, and then another one as Jasper does. He scoops the hefty sponsor gift up with one hand and jogs towards me with easy grace.

"You spared me- spared her, when you could have killed us." His drawl sounds just as sarcastic as it did in training, though I know right now, for once, he is being serious. "Why?"
I give the barest shrug.
"It was the right thing to do."
Jasper meets my eyes again. "Then let me repay the favor."

 

Mags spared no expense on the medicine. Jasper has already set up a (Stolen) tarp underneath Caprice's body, removed the knife carefully from her thigh, rinsed it with Mags' supplied alcohol, shot her with a syringe of antibiotic, force-fed her painkiller, and is now stiching her leg back up with those long, practiced fingers.
I am resting against a tree, my eyes fixed on Caprice, Rowan beside me.
She doesn't trust me completely- that much is obvious by the fact she keeps one hand on the axe beside her at all times. But she's friendly enough, answering my rare questions and assuring me that Jasper does, indeed, know what he's doing.
"We're lumberjacks in seven, cutting down trees. So obviously, we work with axes." She explains, patting her own for emphasis. "There tends to be a lot of unfortunate accidents. Since, you know. Axes. Jasper was going to be a medic, before..." She trails off. Before he was reaped, before he was sentenced to death. I get the jist.

But still, it means Caprice is in the best possible hands.
Those hands are finally slowing as Jasper rises to his feet, stretching languidly.
"I've done the best I can." He says, looming over me. "She's sleeping now. It's going to hurt like hell when she wakes- an inch more and she'd be dead- but unless I've severely fucked up or she's just plain unlucky, she'll live."

His announcement sends relief trickling through me, and I have never been happier that I did not kill this boy.
"Thank you." I say.
Jasper shrugs a little bit, looking slightly uncomfortable. "I owed you." He says simply.
He's silent for a second before he gestures to Rowan. "We should go." He scoops up his backpack, slinging it over his shoulders.
But the younger girl hesitates. "Or we could... or we could stay." She suggests, lingering at my side.
Jasper turns. "With them?" He asks, clearly skeptical.
But Rowan nods, and I can practically hear the wheels in her brain turning. "They know how to fight. And clearly they've got good sponsors. They'd be good allies." She points out. True, true, true.
Jasper studies me, and I can't help but feel as if I'm being tested.
I suppose I've passed, because after almost a minute of silent, Jasper shrugs again. "Promise not to kill me, Finnick Odair from District Four?" He asks, extending his hand towards me. I crack a smile and shake his hand.
"Promise, Jasper Mason from District Seven."

Rowan rolls her eyes. "Men are so dramatic. Finnick, I promise you will not wake up tomorrow lacking a head." She says solemnly.
"Greatly appreciated." I respond dryly. My head jerks to the side as I hear Caprice groan.
"Caprice?" I jump to my feet and race to kneel beside her. "Caprice?"
Those sea-green District Four eyes blink open, and she smiles wearily at me.
"Hello, Finnick." She slurs my name a little bit, her eyes bleary and her mouth arranged in a goofy smile.
"That-" Jasper steps towards me and gestures to his patient's face. "Would be the painkillers. She's going to be a little bit loopy for a bit- but I figured it'd be better than the excruciating pain she would have felt otherwise."
I nod agreement to that statement. Caprice, on the other hand, just stares at him, her eyes going wide.
"Woah. He's gorgeous." She mumbles, still looking at Jasper.

Rowan and I break into identical grins as the lumberjack blushes crimson. "Like I said. Fucking loopy." He snaps, turning and marching away.
Rowan turns to me with raised brows. "Has she by chance continuously mentioned how attractive she finds him?"
"Oh, it's getting insufferable. Jasper this and Jasper that." I agree.
Rowan smiles wickedly. "Oh, believe me, it's been Caprice this and Caprice that over here, too."
"Shut the fuck up, Rowan." Jasper orders, fussing over Caprice's leg and shooting his District Partner a glare.
Rowan blinks innocently at him. "We're discussing your riveting love life." She reports.
Jasper scowls. "I'm going to drop kick the both of you into fucking tomorrow." He warns.
"Ah, you could try." Rowan smirks, wiggling her fingers at him.
"Fuck off." Jasper's swift retort causes Rowan to break out in giggles.
"Does he have some sort of obligation to say fuck in every single sentence?" I wonder.
Rowan cocks her head to the side. "You know, I'm not sure. I think he's taught me and Johanna every single bad word that there is." She informs me.
Jasper rolls his eyes again. "Don't blame Johanna's foul mouth on me." He says, handing Caprice an apple and motioning for her to eat it.
"I'm pretty sure she does research on how to make sentences as rude as possible." He smiles a little bit at the thought of whoever this Johanna is.
"Johanna?" I ask, watching Caprice sink her teeth into the apple, her eyes still a little bit vacant.
"Oh, that's his little sister. Johanna Mason. She's my best friend. She's only eleven, but swears like a sailor and could out-sass any single person, any day." Rowan supplies.
Jasper nods proudly. "That she could, that she could." He looks like he's going to say something else, but he's interrupted by Caprice.
"Could I have some water?" She asks, her voice clearer.
Jasper nods and hastens to retrieve it for her, snatching a (Stolen) water bottle from his pack of (stolen) supplies and pressing it into her hand.
"Thanks." She stares at him a moment too long for it to be casual, and Jasper flushes again.

Rowan and I both give evil grins.

An hour later, Caprice's "loopiness" has faded away, to my and Rowan's displeasure. Jasper, on the other hand, looks simply relieved.
"I'm starving." I announce, realizing that I haven't really eaten all day.
Jasper shoots me a glare. "Go fucking kill a rabbit or some shit, then." He orders. I arch a brow at him. "I don't think there are many rabbits in this jungle." I retort.
"Well, unless you expect Rowan and I to spoon some pudding delicately into your mouth, I'd recommend getting off your ass and maybe doing something if you're hungry." He snipes.

I look up.

"Or." I say smugly. "I could sit here and eat whatever delicacy that some very generous sponsor has just sent me."

Jasper gapes. "What are you doing to get all these fucking sponsors? I just busted my ass off sewing skin together, and you don't see packages dropping on my head!"
I shrug a little, opening my offering to reveal several rolls of bread and creamy cheese. "If you want some, Lumberjack, you could ask nicely." I say.
Rowan skips up to me and does a little curtsy.
"Finnick Odair, love of my life, would you please consider giving me a roll?" I roll my eyes a little and reward her with some bread.
She stuffs it into her mouth victoriously. "Finnick, give me a fucking roll." Jasper orders.
I raise my eyebrows. "What about nicely do you not understand?"
Jasper sighs dramatically. "Finnick, give me a fucking roll. Please." He accentuates the last word.
Rowan nods approval and I toss over his prize. Jasper rips off a piece with his teeth, shutting his eyes in his bliss. "Oh, that shit is good." He moans through the food.
I turn to Caprice. "Want some, Cresta?" I ask. But her eyes have made their way to Jasper. Again.
Rowan notices, Jasper does not.

Rowan and I share a wicked look.

 

The rest of the day consists of Caprice gasping at Jasper's vulgar vocabulary, Rowan's dry commentary of whatever Jasper's doing, me getting showered in sponsor gifts, and lots and lots of staring and angst. No cannons. By the time the anthem plays, I realize I'm genuinely happy- an emotion I haven't really felt much in the arena.
I like Jasper and Rowan. I like how happy Jasper makes Caprice. I like how I feel safe and secure around my allies. Despite being in an arena, being forced to fight to the death, I am happy. Because of Vera.
She gave me what will likely be the last bright spot in my life. I owe this extra time to her. So I let myself cry when she appears in the sky, along with spunky Nessa from District Five. I let myself tell Jasper and Rowan in shuddering sobs exactly what happened to the Girl from District Two.
I let myself mourn my ally and friend, and I let myself thank her for keeping Caprice and I alive. I let myself thank Jasper for saving Caprice.
Thank you, Vera. Thank you, Jasper.
There's little left it be grateful, so I'll take anything I can get.

Chapter 14: Beware! Flying axes - Games Night 3

Jasper and Caprice are passed out cold.
He mumbled something about needing his beauty sleep and how none of us better wake him up before noon if we want to keep our heads, collapsed on the clean side of the tarp, and has been sleeping ever since.
Caprice was up for about an hour longer than he, crying out in pain whenever she tried to move and glowering at her thigh. then she, too, stumbled over to the tarp (a disappointingly safe distance from Jasper) and was out.
Rowan and I are "on watch"- though really we're just keeping one eye on our District Partners and another for Careers while filling the other in on what's happened to the other so far in the Games.
"I was only out for, like, a couple hours after Jasper fished me out- he thought it was mostly shock." Rowan says, weaving her hair into a tight braid.
"Of course, my arms and stuff were scraped up pretty bad, so he snuck back to the Cornucopia and stole a bunch of shit from you guys." She sends me a devious grin. "Apparently he walked right behind you and the girl from District Two."
"Vera." I say.
Rowan nods, pausing for a second before carefully slinging her arm around my shoulder.
"I'm sorry about that, Finnick." She breathes. "I would have liked to get to know her, I think."
"I think she would have liked that, too." I consider. "I would have wanted to meet Blaire, too. Her sister."
Rowan is silent. "Did you get her token?" She asks finally, turning eyes the color of caramel to mine.
I can't speak, only able to shake my head. I didn't. Maybe the Capitol will give it back to Blaire, as they're supposed to, but more often than not the hovercraft and trip back to their home district ruins tokens, or misplaces them. Likely Vera's, which I'm pretty sure was a roughly carved heart of metal that she kept in her pocket, would fall and-
It would fall.

"Rowan." I hiss. The girl from District seven looks up.
"I think her token- I think it would have dropped. when the hovercraft picked her up. It was just in her pocket, so it probably would have tumbled out."
Rowan studies me. "You want to go get it." It isn't a question, but I nod all the same.

I think she's going to say no for a solid second. Instead, she shrugs. "Fine, but I'm not going to be the one to wake Jasper."

 

Hell hath no fury like a lumberjack woken.
"You couldn't have gone in the morning?" He whines, running a hand through his rumpled hair.
"The Careers will be awake by then." I point out.
"Yah. Because they're asleep now. Like regular people." He snaps.
But then he glances down at Caprice and his face changes. Softening, somehow.
"Oh, fucking...Fine. Don't get yourself killed. If you take more than an hour or I hear a cannon, I'm going to wake Caprice up and come looking for you. So don't take too long. Rowan, bring your axe. Finnick, your knives or spear or whatever." He orders.
Rowan nods, accepting her weapon from Jasper's outstretched hand. I nod, too, meeting Jasper's eyes.
"Thanks." I rasp.
Jasper shoots me a half smile. "Yah, well, don't get yourself killed." He says, making a shooing motion. "Now go, before I freak out and change my mind."
Rowan giggles. "Since when were you such a mother hen, Mason?" She teases. Jasper glares.
"My beak is sharp, Rowan. If you're going, go now." He grumbles, grabbing the other axe and taking Rowan's recently vacated spot.

So we do, jogging back in the direction I had run from. It's pretty obvious by the many footsteps I've left, as well as the cleave in the tree that Jasper left. (Apparently he needed to check his axe's sharpness, according to Rowan- although I suspect he just needed to take his anger out by destroying something.)
We arrive at the edge of the forest after about ten minutes. Fifteen minutes faster than my first escapade into the jungle, but I'm also not lugging someone with me.
The Careers haven't budged from their original spot, although since losing three of it's members, they've set only one guard- Tein. He's standing, facing away from us.
"Any sign of it?" Rowan hisses under her breath. I scan the clearing, searching for any sign of the metal object. A glint in the grass about ten minutes away from me gives away its location, and I point it out to Rowan, whose brown eyes flick towards it.
"Want me to distract 11?" She asks gleefully. I shoot her a look. "I'm just going to go grab it. He won't notice."
Rowan exhales loudly. "If you get caught, duck." She warns.
"Why?"
"Beware- flying axes." Rowan says solemnly.
"Duly noted."

I creep forwards, one eye remaining on Tein. He doesn't turn around, so I run forwards the last few meters, snatching Vera's token and then booking it back towards Rowan.
She shoots me a victorious smile. "Let's get back to the fussing grandmother." She says.
"Don't let him hear you say that." I suggest.
Rowan grins deviously. "But that's half the fun."

"We're back, oh fussing grandmother!" Rowan calls. Jasper lifts his head. "That was quick." He whispers. "Did you find Vera's token?"
I hold it up for his inspection. Jasper nods. "Go to sleep, then." He commands. Rowan frowns. "Aren't you tired?"
"Exhausted, but the two of you are young and need more sleep than us grandmothers." He says dryly.
"I'm not sleepy th-" Rowan's sentence is proved completely incorrect when she breaks out into a yawn.
Jasper arches a brow. "Bed, Rowan."
I'm too tired to argue.
Besides, now that I have Vera's token squeezed in my hand, I can sleep easier, knowing I've fulfilled my promise to her. To her, and to Blaire.

Chapter 15: Riveting Rivers - Games Day 4

Jasper and Rowan are, apparently, morning people.

Well, Rowan is. Jasper is grumbling about how he should still be asleep and how the sun hasn't even come out and therefore he shouldn't either.
I definitely agree with him.

Since he insists Caprice needs sleep to recover, the three of us are on food, guarding and water duty. It's quickly obvious we're terrible at hunting, so Rowan resorts to robbing eggs from birds nests... (Jasper's too heavy, I'm not able to get high enough without falling.)
...While Jasper and I tromp around the forest looking for water. It's our main priority, because we have zero. Zilch. Nada. Except for the delightfully empty water bottle that Jasper nabbed from the Cornucopia, which neither of us count.

After about twenty minutes of zero success, he sends me a grumpy look.
"Hey, kid, you've got mountains of sponsors. Wanna ask your mentor to send us some water or shit?"
I make a face. "Believe it or not, even I don't have endless sponsor money. There's got to be some source somewhere."
"Yeah, well, I might drop dead If I'm not hydrated soon." He glares up at the sky. "You could always get off your ass and send us something, too, Blight." He says pointedly, waving one particular finger above him.

Blight, who I assume is his mentor, does not get off his ass. So Jasper and I continue to walk, him using more expletives in the single hour than I've ever used in my life.
Jasper's skin, which is usually a deep tan, has begun to pale, and his lips are beginning to chaff. My head is starting to pound, and I can't help but wonder why Mags doesn't send us something to relieve us of this.
Surely Caprice's medicine didn't completely deplete our supply.
Jasper finally slows to a stop, turning to me with dull eyes.
"I don't think I can go any farther." He admits, his voice hoarse.
I look longingly behind us. We've left a trail- Jasper's sliced lines into the trees we've passed so we could find our way back to Rowan and Caprice. But Jasper took only medicine and weapons from the Cornucopia, and all four of us will be dead within a day if we don't find some source of water.
So I just shake my head. "Come on, Jasper, we've got to keep going."
He shuts his eyes for a second. "Alright, kid. Alright. But if I- if I don't get up, you go back to Rowan and you keep her safe, got it?"
I shoot him a smile. "She doesn't need me to keep her safe."
Jasper chuckles a little bit at that. "That's true. But still."
"You're going to be fine, Jasper. We'll find something."

I can tell he doesn't believe me.
I don't know if I'm going insane from lack of water, but I swear I can hear some sort of rushing. Like... buzzing bees, or humming or.... or running water.
"Jasper. Jasper, do you hear that?"
He turns blearily to me.
"Hear... hear what?"
"Running water. Come on." I seize his arm and practically drag him towards the sound. We go farther and farther into the forest, chasing the source of the sound. Until finally- finally, we find it.

A river. Not nearly as quick as the one around the Cornucopia, but as fresh and clean as the moat. Jasper gives a weak sigh of relief, stumbling up to the river, falling to his knees before it, and cupping his hands into the water.
He's not stupid enough to just plunge his mouth into it- he sniffs at it, swirls it around with his finger, and then lets it fall back into the river, his eyes having found a little monkey that sits across the river.
The monkey has no such reservations, stuffing its fluffy snout into the river and taking great big gulps.
Just then, I spot a parachute descending from the sky. Jasper's eyes widen and he begins to mutter some choice words under his breath.
I can't help but share the sentiment. Why now, when we've found sustenance?
I snatch the packet out of the sky and open it to find a little bottle of iodine, which purifies water and makes it safe to drink. Jasper looks longingly at the water but sighs, snatching the water-bottle from my hands and submerging it in the river.
He must have spent more time at the survival stations then I as he confidently squeezes what I'm sure is the right amount of iodine in to the liquid, swirls it around, and sits back.
"We've got to wait at least half an hour." He informs me.
I groan a little, but I feel a lot better knowing that fresh, safe water is within our grasp. Really, Mags' gift was the best one she could have sent. Rather than waste money on water she knew we could find, she sent us enough iodine to purify gallons of it.
So I settle myself beside Jasper, stripping my shoes and socks and dunking my feet into the water.

It's delightfully frigid, and I really, really want to go swimming.
Jasper follows my gaze to the water and shrugs. "Once this shit is purified, we'll fill the water for the girls and then we'll come back with them- then you can jump in or whatever. If I cover Caprice's leg, she could, too."
"You should come in with us." I suggest, sending him a wicked smile.
He scowls. "It's too cold."
I make a face at him, but don't press the issue. It is cold, and Jasper probably wouldn't be used to plunging into freezing water like Caprice and I.
"What's district seven like?" I ask, figuring we might as well pass the time with conversation.
Jasper's silent for long enough I begin to worry that the lack of liquids have stolen his voice, but then he finally speaks.
"Lots of trees." He says vaguely.
I send him a glare. "Yeah, no shit. That's like saying District Four has a lot of water."
Jasper shrugs a little, stretching his long legs.
"We're a- we're a strong-willed bunch, at home, so there's also a lot of... measures for containment."
I don't know if I'm slowly becoming fluent in Jasper-Speak, but I take that to mean there's a lot of whippings and Capitol punishments in District Seven. I think about that one for a second. Don't get me wrong, the Peacekeepers in four are no joke. They have to be strict, because we're large and prosperous and could probably overtake them if they loosened the reins.
But we don't try. We know the consequences. My back is pristine. There are no scars from being lashed.

I wonder if the same is true of Jasper. Somehow, I doubt it.

We sit in silence for the rest of the time, before Jasper seizes the bottle with a muttered "Fuck it."
He takes a long sip, gasping for air when he's done. "Thank God." He groans. Shrugs a little. "Or thank your Mentor, I suppose."
His dry humor seems to be returning along with the color in his face.
I take the bottle and take a few, smaller sips. The cold water on my throat feels like heaven, and I really, really want to dump it on my head, but I shudder to think of what Jasper would do if I wasted any of it.
So we pass our precious water back and forth until it's empty and we're both functioning humans again.
Then I fill it up again, Jasper adds the Iodine, and we begin to trek back towards our female counterparts, water in tow.

When we arrive back to the girls, Caprice is awake, both of her legs stretched out in front of her.
Rowan's perched on a tree branch a meter above her, her legs dangling down. They're both laughing.
Caprice's eyes light up when she sees us. "Oh, thank God. Please tell me you found some water."
I raise the canteen in victory, and Caprice makes a grabbing motion. I toss it to her, and she screws the cap open eagerly, taking a few desperate gulps. When she's done, she puts the lid back on and lobs it carelessly over her head.
Rowan catches it easily, taking a swig as well.
"Delicious." She says, giving her lips a comical smack. She scrutinizes Jasper.
"Where'd you find this? I'm disgustingly dirty and I need to get clean."
Caprice nods agreement. "I'd like to get all the blood off of me." She chimes in.
Jasper huffs. "Fine, but I'm going to wrap your leg with something before you go in. I don't want the dirty water seeping in and it getting infected." Caprice rolls her eyes, amusement dancing through them.
"You're the medic."
"You bet I am." He retorts.

In the end, he wraps a bit of gauze, courtesy of Mags' previous gift, around her wound, then wraps it with a piece of tarp, and then makes it skintight with tape (Also from Mags.)
Caprice then gently tugs her wind pants back on- Thankfully, they're loose on her- and we're off.

She's leaning heavily on Jasper's shoulder, gritting her teeth and refusing to take a break when the lumberjack/medic/grandmother offers.
His face is beet red, and though he insists its because he's hot, I think it's more to do with the physical contact with Caprice.

Caprice seems both relieved and disappointed when we reach the river, and although Jasper's more difficult to read, I think he shares the sentiment. Rowan, on the other hand, lights up when she sees the river.
"Oh, sick!" She whoops, stripping to her underclothes and plunging into the river with an excited cry.

Her sleek blonde head emerges a second later, and though her lips are turning blue, she's smiling. "Oh, it's so nice. Come on, Fin!"
I shrug a little, stripping off my own outer clothes and diving in to join her.
It's heaven on my sticky, sweaty skin, and I stay under for as long as I can, scrubbing dirt and blood and grime off my skin. When I come up, Caprice, too, has waded in, her expression that of ecstasy.
Jasper, on the other hand, has settled himself grumpily on the bank, his eyes directed anywhere but towards Caprice.
I can't help but shoot Rowan a little smirk, which is returned in kind.
"Hey, Mason, come in! The water's not too deep." She wheedles.
Jasper shakes his head. "You all are going to die of hypothermia." He says mutionsly, but the lack of urgency in his voice tells me this is false. "Come on, Jasper, you've got Caprice's blood all over you." I add, splashing the water at him.
He shoots me a glare, presenting me with a choice finger and skirting back a few steps. "No."
"Come on, Jasper." Caprice says, lying on her back like a starfish and letting her hair flow with the current.

Rowan's eyebrows shoot towards the sky as he lets out a great sigh and rises to his feet.
"Oh, you three... fine."
And then he, too, is stripping to his undershorts and wading in, shivering dramatically.
"Notice how he got in for her..." Rowan mutters, grinning like a fiend.
"Oh for fucking- it's freezing. I am not dunking my hea-"
"That's okay, I'll do it for you!" Rowan says helpfully, sneaking up behind him and jumping on his back.
Jasper staggers before succumbing to Rowan's weight, falling forwards until his head is under the water.
When he emerges, he sends Rowan a glare.
"I'm going to kill you." He promises, trying valiantly to reach her.

I'm suddenly reminded of reaping day- when Kelton promised the same thing, was held back by the water as Jasper is now.

The flash of deja Vu has me stumbling a little bit, but I'm brought back to the moment when Rowan beams me in the face with a handful of water.
"Hey!" I reprimand, retaliating. "No teaming up unless it's against Jasper!"
Jasper turns his head at the sound of his name. "Lucky me" The lumberjack in question says dryly, his dark hair slicked against his head.
Caprice nods agreement to my statement before gesturing for Rowan to move to her and whispering something in her ear. Rowan's face breaks into a wicked expression and she nods gleefully.
Jasper shudders. "I don't think I've ever been more terrified in my life." He tells me, and he's indeed keeping a close eye on his district partner as she clambers out of the water.
Before he can move, Rowan is leaping into the water in an excellent cannonball, thoroughly dowsing Jasper and forcing him under again with the power of her splash.
When she emerges, her braided hair coming undone, I send her an approving nod. "Not bad for a tree-climber."
"Oh, I'm glad you approve, fishy." She retorts, laughing. Jasper spits a mouthful of water out and shoots a glare at Rowan.
"Remind me again why I keep you around?" He demands, though a smile is clearly trying to break onto his lips.
Rowan wades over and jumps onto his back again, but this time he's able to keep his footing and carries her piggy-back.
"Why, because you adore me!" She responds cheerfully.

Jasper mutters something about teenage girls before falling backwards and forcing Rowan to let go, giggling.

After probably half an hour more of Rowan and I tormenting Jasper and Caprice, the District 7 tributes are shivering from cold and their lips are turning blue, so we drag ourselves out.
Rowan and I immediately flop into a warm patch of sun, since no one wants to put our dry stuff on overtop the wet underclothes, but Caprice is frozen in the water, her eyes on Jasper's back as he pulls himself out of the water.
I look to Rowan, expecting a smirk, but her face is solemn.
And then suddenly I remembered what he said earlier, and I feel sick.
"What happened to your back?" Caprice breathes, wading over and examining it closer. Jasper drops back into the water, but it goes up only to his waist, and I'm assuming hides nothing.
Jasper stiffens. "Peacemakers." He mutters, clambering out and pulling his shirt on.
Rowan looks like she's going to go to him, but Jasper shoots her a glare that actually looks real, and she shuts her mouth.

It's silent for a few minutes before Caprice breaks the ice, leaning over and smiling at Rowan.
"Remind me to teach you how to dive next time, alright?"
Rowan beams back, nodding.

I don't want to mention how there might not be a next time.

Jasper allows us five more minutes to soak in the sun (Like a bunch of lazy cats, according to him) before he's up and moving, telling us that we've made enough noise to attract any tribute in a kilometer radius.
"Come on, let's go back and maybe Finnick's sponsors will send us supper." He suggests.
Grumbling, we begin to dress, before rising to our feet and starting to trudge back towards our original campsite.

Though she still limps, the water seemed to give Caprice an extra spring to her step, and she no longer winces in pain when she and Jasper hit a bump, instead engaging in the conversation. It sounds like they're trying to make a plan to ruin the Careers food- our pack of four has enough manpower to do some serious damage.
"I mean, it could work, but the problem would be getting close enough." Caprice says, running her fingers through her damp hair.
Jasper's eyes narrow. "I'd say Finnick could throw something, like a wooden spear caught on fire, but the odds of it all catching are low."
"And it would give away his location." Caprice agrees.
She stumbles a little, tripping over a root, and seizes Jasper's hand to keep herself from falling.
His face flushes with color, but he helps her sit down and kneels beside her.
"You alright?" He asks softly.
Caprice grits her teeth and nods. "Fine. I'll be fine."

Rowan and I exchange a look. It's become a little bit of a routine, at this point.

Soon enough, Jasper has Caprice back on her feet and we're walking the last few minutes back.

Rowan scales her tree with the speed of a monkey, looking towards the sky pleadingly.
"Oh, deranged blind people that find Finnick hot, please oh please send me- or, him, I suppose- some food." She calls. I throw a stick halfheartedly at her.
Mags clearly has a sense of humor- Rowan gasps with joy as a parachute spirals down.
Jasper watches her amusedly as she snags it out of the air and rips it open with gusto.
"It's for Finnick, obviously, but I'm going to pretend it's mine." She announces, selecting a roll and some cheese before dropping it down to Caprice, who passes it to me.
I offer some to Jasper and he nods gratefully, taking only half a roll before chucking the other half at Rowan, who'd been eyeing the bread longingly. "Thanks, Jas." Rowan mumbles, her mouth full.
"Yeah, yeah." He rolls his eyes, but affection lights them as Rowan devours both rolls.
Caprice yawns loudly, extending her bad leg in front of her and prodding it delicately.
"Do not poke or itch at it. It will make it worse." Jasper orders, slapping Caprice's handing away.
She scowls at him. "You'd itch if it were you."
"Most definitely, but I'm not a great example of what you should and shouldn't do." He retorts.
I can't help thinking of his back. What he did to get those scars.

Soon enough, when we're all stuffed with my- or Rowan's, sorry- bread, Caprice, Rowan and I settle down to sleep. Jasper insisted on taking the first watch, Caprice second (She says she's feeling well enough, but I suspect Jasper won't be sleeping when it's her turn, just in case) and then me. Rowan'll double shift the next night.
The anthem plays, but there are no casualties today, a small miracle. Mine and Jasper's struggle for water must have been entertainment enough- or perhaps the Careers stumbled upon some sort of challenge. Either way, tomorrow is sure to be bloodier. Delightful.

Rowan's already out cold, her back pressing against my own. Jasper's flung his jacket over the both of us in a makeshift blanket, claiming that he's not cold. Though I suspect it's a lie, the overall effect makes it quite toasty- Rowan's and my body heat, the wind-repellent jacket, and the tarp underneath us create quite the set-up.
I stare at the sky for what must be an hour, taking in the stars. They're not the real ones, but the Capitol have simulated them- I point out my personal favourites, the fish called Pisces, Cetus the whale, and Hydra, the massive water serpent. I'm not quite sure they've gotten the alignments correct- I'm pretty sure Pisces should be more to the left- but I'm just happy to see their familiar twinkle.
When I'm sufficiently calm enough to sleep, I call out a drowsy "Night, Jasper."
Silence for a second. Then: "Night, Kid. Don't let the tarp-bugs bite."

I fall asleep smiling.

Chapter 16: To the End - Games Night 4

Summary:

This chapter is from Caprice's POV because Finnick's asleep lol

I never sleep well in the arena.

It was better last night, obviously, because all of Jasper's medicine had knocked me right out.

But tonight, after an hour of trying to go to bed, curled up on the tarp next to Finnick, I give up and stand. I'm careful not to disturb my District Partner or Rowan, who are both clearly fast asleep. The both of them look younger than fourteen, curled up and relaxed- they look almost angelic. Too young, too innocent to be in this situation.
I clench my fists and force myself to look away.
My anger is a weapon, and the only one I will wield it against is the Capitol.

A good distraction is always Jasper, who is leaning against the back of a tree, his axe at his side. He's gorgeous as ever, even in the dark- once my eyes are on him, they do not want to leave.
My brain, too, seems stuck up on the Lumberjack, though what used to be dreamy thoughts about how he looked shirtless were now questions about what in hell happened to his poor back.
Well, I'm not stupid. Though rare, there were whippings in Four, too. But not like that, never like that.
I'm glad, at least, that Finnick hadn't seen them- they were wicked, curved lines carving down his back, enough to almost bring me to tears at the thought of what he had gone through.

But I had seen them, and if Jasper thought I was going to let him stew in his pain without discussions, he was dead wrong.
So I shuffle towards him and plop myself at his side.
His hand shoots for his axe, but it drops when he sees that I'm me and not an enemy.
"Couldn't sleep?" His drawl, which I'll admit is wonderfully sexy at the best of times, is lower and rougher when he's tired. My heart does a little dance, and I force myself to swallow.
"No." I say simply, copying his position and leaning against the tree.
We're both silent for a second, him tracing circles in the dirt underneath us before I speak.
"What really happened to your back?"
He stiffens. "I told you. Peacemakers." He says gruffly.
I meet his eyes. "Yes, Jasper, I did figure that out. But why?"
He looks at me for a long minute- long enough that I'm worried he's just going to stand up and leave. He tends to do that, I've observed- pretending his own needs don't matter, always giving Rowan his jacket or bread or sleep.
But tonight, he doesn't.
Instead, he takes a deep, shaky breath. Runs his hand through his hair.
"The first time... My- my sister...." He pauses.
"Johanna." I prompt, knowing her name will be the only thing that will get him to continue.
He nods. "Yeah. She's got a bit of a mouth on her." A ghost of a smile passes over his face.
"She messed with the wrong Peacemaker. They were going to- going to do this-" He gestures to his back.
"- to her. And I wasn't going to let that happen. So I mouthed them off worse, hit one of them, hoping they'd leave her and come after me. Well, it worked. They forgot all about her. The second was because I nabbed some firewood from work for my mother to use, but they caught me before I could get it to her. The third... I don't know why, actually. I think something went wrong and they needed someone to blame. And I was just... I was just there." He trails off, shrugging, like it's an old story, an old scar, that doesn't matter to him anymore.

He can pretend all he likes, but it matters to me. It matters so, so much.
"You didn't deserve it." I say, my voice breaking. Jasper looks away. I seize his hand in mine, squeezing hard. "You did not deserve it." I say again, stronger and more powerful than before.
"No, I didn't." He agrees finally. "But that's the way things are. I was the bloody example."
I'm stunned into silence. Jasper turns to look at me, those gorgeous brown eyes brimming with tears.
"You are so much more than that." I breathe.
He lets the tears fall.
"It's okay." I whisper, cupping his face in my hands. "I'm here."
A half smile. "I know." He whispers back, bringing one of his hands to my hair and carefully brushing a piece behind my ear.
I study him for a second. His unbroken, defiant, beautiful face.
"Let's not die on their terms. " I breathe, inhaling the tang of pine that seems to cling to him.
He smiles fully now, despite the tears. Beautiful. "Let's not."
I glance towards Finnick, towards Rowan. Then back to Jasper, who I've known only for a couple of weeks, but who I feel as if I've known my whole life.
"It'll be one of them." It's not a question.
Jasper nods. "We protect them till the end." He vows, his eyes now gleaming clear and bright and proud.
I return the smile.

And then I kiss him.

He's salt and sorrow and bitterness and perfect and mine. I run my fingers through his hair, tugging him even closer to me. I'm eighteen, and I've never kissed a boy before. Funny, I would never have met him not for the Hunger Games. A cruel twist of fate, really- to bring us together only to kill us both.

I pull apart finally, and smile. "To the end. And forever after that."

Chapter 17: Sloths:1, Finnick:0 - Games Day 5

Summary:

Back to Finnick's POV

I was not woken for my watch.

It takes me all of three seconds to see why.

He's asleep, his head resting on her shoulder. It was her turn to watch, so her eyes are open, but she beholds him with a kind of softness that I've only seen when she speaks of Annie.

They're so stupidly in love it hurts.

It's probably like 6:30 in the morning- Shockingly, Rowan is still asleep, leaving only us District Four tributes awake.
I rise slowly to my feet, careful not to disturb Rowan- she needs the sleep.
Caprice notices and shrugs with the shoulder not occupied with Jasper's head.
"He doesn't sleep enough." Is all she says. "I didn't want to move."
"Yes, I'm sure that's why the two of you were "On watch" for the entire night." I shoot back, smiling uncontrollably.
She blushes fiercely but shoots me a glare. "Hush. You're going to wake him up."

I grin wickedly. "I hope you remembered protection." I whisper-shout, flouncing away before Caprice can attack me.

I hope they're happy. I hope they're so wildly happy they can barely remember where they are. I hope the whole Capitol is watching and hates their president for what is inevitably going to be a tragic ending.

But I'm still unable to stop myself from smiling. In fact, I'm positively beaming when I grab the canteen of water and my spear and jog down to the river- the lovebirds were up on guard all night, so the least I can do is collect some water for the morning.

When I return, they're all awake.

Jasper's more cheerful than usual, and I think Rowan is about to pass out from shock when he actually beams.
"Has he been replaced by a clone?" She asks me, hissing.
I shoot her a smirk. "I'm about Seventy-Five percent sure there was action last night that involved both of their lips."

Her eyebrows shoot up. "No fucking way."
I shoot her a smirk. "Yes fucking way."
Rowan giggles manically.

"Did you tease them about sex?" She demands. I arch my brows. "What do you think I am, an amateur?"
Rowan nods her approval.

According to Jasper, Caprice's leg is better. Not better enough to walk on her own, but better.
I desperately want to return to the river, and although Jasper grumbles about it, he eventually agrees.
So we're trekking there again, Caprice and Jasper murmuring to each other and Rowan and I making a game of Which One of Them Will Blush Next. She's winning, of course, since it's nearly always Jasper, and she guesses him every time.

We're so distracted in our game we don't notice as they start to gather above us.
Jasper does, though. He stops. His eyes flick above us. Then back to Caprice.
"Back away slowly." He instructs, making an effort to keep his voice calm.
"Why?" Rowan asks, her voice a little too loud.

And then they descend.
They're almost... cute, with thick, coarse fur and tiny eyes- but there's nothing lovable about those razor sharp claws. Mutts.
Jasper swears, low and vicious. "Get your weapons out. And get behind me." He instructs. I obey, because he's the only one with his weapon up and ready, and I do not doubt his skills with that axe for a second.

I'm proven right when the monkey- looking things attack.
Jasper defends us against them with a smooth, vicious grace that should have earned him at least a ten in the Gamemaker meetings- he twirls that weapon like he was born with an axe in hand.
The strange mutts drop like flies at his feet, at least a dozen dead before Rowan, Caprice and I even join in the fray.
My spear proves more effective than the knives, Rowan's own axe more effective than both, and the three of us whirl and weave in a deadly dance. Caprice, whose leg is not yet healed enough for her to engage in such close combat, narrows her eyes and whips daggers from about three meters away- with each of her shots, a monkey falls.
But even with our combined efforts, the unknown animals continue to swarm, wielding those wicked claws in a way that reminds me of Cade and his knives.

Breathe Finnick. Breathe. I try to take deep breaths, try not to lose my head, but what I really need is a knot to tie but if I stop for a second I'll be pounced upon-
I'm hyperventilating, claustrophobia and panic racing through me. I can't do this. I can't do this.
A mutt uses my temporary panic to its advantage- sneaking past my wavering spear and digging its claws into my stomach.
I'm thrust back into reality and howl with pain, staggering back. It would have been a killing blow, I'm sure, if Jasper's axe hadn't cleaved the beast's skull open a split second later- the Lumberjack's eyes radiate concern.
"You alright?"
"Fine. They're barely bleeding." I grit out, forcing my spear back into a fighting position and preparing myself for another foe- but then, as quickly as they appeared, the mutts fade away.
They trot back into the trees, and Rowan doubles over, gasping.
"What the- fuck. Were. Those?" She pants.
Jasper narrows his brow. "A mutt, definitely- but I think they were modeled after sloths."
The word triggers a memory of a slow, lazy animal.
"Aren't they supposed to be slow?" I whine, tugging off my shirt so Jasper, who is already trotting forwards, can examine the extent of the injury. "In theory." He says, eyes on my stomach. After a second, he exhales with relief.
"Just surface cuts." He says.
I roll my eyes. "I did tell you that." I point out.
"Yes, but Rowan also told me the other day she had a "bruise" on her head- when in reality it was a massive goose-egg that could have been a sign of internal bleeding. Excuse me if I don't believe the word of you kids." He retorts.
My eyes roll again. "Do I need any medical attention, Doc?"
"I mean, it could use some bandages, but it's not the end of the world if-"

A parachute enthusiastically plummets from the sky.

Jasper groans. "I'm not even surprised. Who wants to bet they're the nicest bandaids the Capitol has to offer?"

Rowan taps her chin lightly. "I'd say about 85 percent." She reports.
Caprice nods agreement. "Only the best for our little Finnick." She chirps, leaning over and pinching my cheek.
I squirm away, scowling, only to back into Jasper, who pats my head condescendingly.
"Alright, kid, do you want me to patch the bandages on for you? Perhaps I could also spoon-feed the broth that I'm sure is also in there directly into your mouth?"
I huff, rolling my eyes.
"Oh, please. They're cuts. There is no chance there's actually broth in there."

Jasper screws open the sponsor gift to find the flashiest package of bandaids that I've ever seen, high tech painkillers, and sure enough, a heaping pot of broth.

"I don't actually think it's safe for you to take those." Jasper says solemnly, nodding towards the pills.
"Good, because I don't intend on it." I snap back, seizing a bunch of bandaids and securing them to the five divots in my stomach.
Jasper smiles a little. "You missed one, right there- oh, wait. That's your face."
I groan, turning to Rowan.
"Can we go back to bullying Jasper? This is getting old really, really quickly."
Rowan nods seriously. "I never say no to bullying Jasper." She informs me, skipping up to her District Partner and offering her palm for a high five. He arches his brow at her and pokes the center of her palm with his middle finger.
Rowan gasps, mortally offended.
"How dare you? You've violated a sacred oath of highius fivius! You shall pay with your life!"
Jasper shoots her a flat look. "Tragic." He deadpans.
Rowan shrugs. "Or, alternatively, you could carry me on your shoulders the rest of the way to the river." She suggests.

Jasper groans, but drops to his knees, and Rowan clambers aboard victoriously.
He rises shakily to his feet, Rowan's legs dangling over his chest.
She stares down upon us imperiously. "Peasants." She preens, flipping her braid behind her back.
"Wow, Rowan, how does it feel to finally be taller than someone?" I shoot back.
"I think perhaps Jasper should become my permanent steed." She digs her heels into his stomach.
"Giddy up, horsie!"

Jasper scowls. "I will buck you off." He warns.

Rowan smiles sweetly. "But then you'd be violating the sacred oath of highius fivius."

Caprice frowns. "Did you make that up?" She wonders.

Rowan presses her fingers to her lips.



After two hours of swimming and Jasper's continuous defeat in underwater handstand contests, we're shivering with cold and delightfully happy. Fighting the mutts must have given us enough TV time to allow another happy moment.
Caprice makes good on her promise to teach Rowan diving, and within three tries she's an expert, leaping from tree branches and rocks.

Jasper and Caprice only swim for about twenty minutes before they're basking on the bank, hand in hand.
I catch them more than once with their lips interlocked, and they're murmuring closely to each other.
A couple times, I see tears being brushed away.

Rowan and I smile and grin and smirk when we see them, but we don't interfere. Our friends, our allies... fuck, Jasper and Rowan are practically siblings, and I've come to love them both with the affection I do Kelton- they deserve every happy moment that they can seize.
I refuse to be the one to take this from them.

Chapter 18: 13 Take Away 1- Games Night 5

Summary:

Three perspectives: First Finnick, then Jasper, then Robyn :)

FINNICK

Unsurprisingly, we were gifted dinner by sponsors. Some sort of stew and District Four seaweed bread, which Jasper and Rowan let Caprice and I devour- it's been too long since I've had a taste of home.
Jasper, Rowan and Caprice are going through the remaining tributes.
"Corduroy and Tulle from one." Jasper says, his eyes narrowing. It seems their loathing for him is mutual.
"Cade from two." Rowan adds. Caprice's eyes go downcast as if she's remembering another tribute from two whose name is not uttered. Because she's gone.
"Flick from three." I say, smirking at Jasper. "That's the one you saved from Corduroy."
Jasper rolls his eyes. "I just wanted a chance to pick a fight with him, and honestly Flick gave me the opportunity."
Rowan groans. "Real clever."
"Thanks." Jasper shoots her a sarcastic smile.
"Obviously the two fishies here." Rowan extends her hand for Caprice to slap. She wisely does, not wanting her fate to be the same as Jasper's
(who had been carrying his District Partner on his shoulders all day.)
"Milo from five." (Caprice)
"Me and this loser." (Rowan)
"I think his name is... Reid? From nine?" That's Jasper, who is ticking off the names on his fingers.
"Tein and Robyn." I add, scowling.
"And Etta." Caprice finishes.

"So that's... thirteen left." All of us are quiet. That means 11 people are dead. And we're not even halfway.

A cannon fires, and Rowan startles, falling out of her tree.
Caprice, who's closest, lunges to catch her and Rowan exhales sharply.
"Thanks, Cappy." Rowan pants, clutching her chest.
Jasper rolls his eyes, but runs them carefully over Rowan to make sure she's okay. Satisfied, he looks up to the sky and frowns. "I wonder who that was."

JASPER

It's Reid from nine.
If I had to guess, I'd say he was a victim of the Careers, or maybe something like starvation or poison. I suppose I'll never know for sure. It's not like I'm going home.

Judging by their positions, everyone but Caprice is asleep, slumbering peacefully under my coat.
I shiver a little bit, but it's worth it knowing that they're warm.
They don't belong here.
No matter how fiercely they fight, how skilled Finnick must be to get a 10 at his age- he does not belong here.

I sigh a little. "Caprice, you can stop pretending to be asleep." I whisper.
She doesn't respond, and I wonder if she is truly resting for a second until she cracks open one of those fabulous eyes.
"How'd you know?"
"You snore."
Caprice snorts. "No, I don't."
She rises to her feet and comes to join me by the tree. She grabs my hand in hers, leaning her head against my shoulder.
My breath hitches, and I'm sure I've turned red. It's happening alarmingly often. Perhaps I'm coming down with a fever.

"What would you be doing if you were at home right now?" She asks after a few moments of comfortable silence.
I consider. It's probably 1 ish. "Sleeping, like you should be." I poke her side a little, and she squirms, laughing.
"I'd probably be reading." She confesses.
I smile. "This late? It's a wonder you don't need glasses from straining those pretty eyes."
Caprice shrugs loosely. "I probably do, honestly- but Annie would laugh at me. Call me four eyes."
"Oh, so would Johanna." We're both quiet.
Then I speak. "I think Johanna would like you. She'd pretend not to at first, but then she'd be all over you."
Caprice beams with pleasure. "I know I'd like her too." She says. "I wish I could have met her."
"I wish you could have, too. I wish I could have taken you home, could have introduced you to my parents, to Rowan's. My mother would obsess over your hair- Johanna always cuts hers short, but she'd love braiding yours. My dad would probably stuff you full with District Seven delicacies- you'd be begging him to stop." I keep my voice quiet, Subdued. Like it would keep the cameras from catching it. Like it will keep any of this private.
Caprice's eyes brim with tears and she clutches my hand tighter.
"My mother is definitely the boss in our house. She'd pretend to be all strict, but would secretly be delighted. My father would stuff you full of seaweed loaf. Annie would always be pestering you to swim with her or play games with her or go to catch clams with her." She whispers.

The tears fall on both my face and hers.
"I wish it could be different. I wish I could have you forever." She breathes.
She buries her face into my chest.
Tears pour down, salty as her sea.
"You do, Caprice. You do. Until the end, and forever after that, remember? At Finnick's beach. We'll build a little log house and dance in the sea." I murmur, stroking her hair.
She lets out a choked sob.
"Until the end, and forever after that." She repeats again. And again. And again, in a continuous chant. All night long.

ROBYN

I'm tired and hungry and scared.
Tein is, too.
We're still with the Careers, of course. Where else would we go? I'm not cocky enough to believe that I could take on all three of them alone, even with Tein's help.
Not to mention their favorite lumberjack and the tributes from Four, who are still at large.

I think I'm going insane. I just want out, one way or another.
Someone else is dead. Reid. From nine.
It wasn't me. It wasn't me, it wasn't. Tulle thinks it was starvation. But she's not the sharpest quill on the porcupine, so I'm not inclined to believe her. Kid looked resourceful enough at training. No, I bet it was either the Lumberjack and his little friend (Who is somehow still alive) or Finnick and Caprice. Well, Finnick. Caprice wouldn't hurt a fly.
Tulle's started rationing the Cornucopia food. We've not had one single sponsor gift since Four left, which makes it difficult- and of course, a lot of the stuff in there spoils quickly.

I want to go home.

Maybe I'll try to engage Odair in combat. If he can rough up my face enough before I kill him, maybe I won't be considered desirable. Of course, the Capitol will probably find some way to fix it.
I can only imagine the hell he'll go through if he wins.
Only fourteen, and still I heard a disgusting amount of Capitol citizens, men and women, practically salivating over him.

I might be a murderer, I might not be good. But he's a child.

And one that I will have to kill if I want to go home.

I'll have to kill the Lumberjack, too. I'm more worried about him, actually, because I've no clue how to find him. My only lead would be the Cresta girl. She's clearly infatuated with him.
Every time Tulle and Corduroy mentioned him name, she'd go red with anger.


I've got honor enough to put my knife through his back and be done with it.
To be frank, I found him hilarious.
Tulle, on the other hand, most certainly did not. He's got a plan. It's going to happen tomorrow. I'm counting on the Lumberjack taking out one of them for me. Cade, Corduroy, or Tulle.
And then Tein and I will run. Leave.

And then we'll attack them. If there's a two on two, I feel confident enough.

But no matter. First, Tulle's plan.

Even l admit it's clever.

Chapter 19: And Forever After That- Games Day 6

Summary:

Extreme Trigger Warning here.

Graphic character death, mentions of suicide, blood etc.

Jasper didn't wake me. Again.

He does, however, inform us who the rouge cannon was- which makes exactly twelve tributes left. Half are gone. Half still live. Four of us are holed up here while the other eight could be anywhere.

Rowan was up at an ungodly time, swinging through the branches like a monkey.
Now, as we munch on pastries sent by my sponsor, she stares oddly at Jasper, muttering something under her breath and seemingly counting on her fingers.
"Jasper." She says suddenly. He turns bleary eyes to her.
"Yes?"
"The Games started on July 11. It's the sixth day in the arena. It's July 17th."
I frown a little. "And?"
Rowan goes up to her district Partner and smacks him. "It's this stupid fucker's birthday." She announces.
I don't know what I was expecting, but it sure as hell wasn't that.
Caprice's jaw drops. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Jasper scowls, rubbing his cheek where Rowan hit him.
"I forgot, I suppose." He mutters. "Wasn't really keeping track of the days."
Caprice's face darkens. She pauses for a second before she crosses over to him and envelops him in a hug. "Happy birthday, Jas." She says softly.
"Thanks." His voice is muffled by her hair.
Rowan looks positively murderous, too. I can't figure out why for a half second, and then I realize.

He's nineteen, now. He should be safe from the Reapings. But he's not. He's not because he's in the arena.
This is three different kinds of terrible I don't even know what to say.

So eventually, I just trod over to where I stashed the broth and medicine from the day before, bring it back to Jasper, and present it to him with a dramatic flourish.
"Happy birthday." I say solemnly.
Jasper stares at me for a second. And then he grins.
"I'm pushing you into the river."
"No, you are most certainly-"
"Ah, ah, ah, I'm the birthday boy, Odair. I'm pushing you into the fucking river whether you like it or not." He sings, grabbing me in his hands and throwing me over his shoulder.
Rowan cackles, trailing behind us. Jasper gives her a warning glare. "You're next, Ro."

Both Rowan and I are thrown into the water many, many times. A couple times, we manage to take our attacker with us. Once, we managed to gang up on the older boy and send him tumbling in himself.
Caprice laughs and laughs and laughs.

And then he sits on the bank with Caprice and they kiss. A lot. They hold each other like a lifeline, both of their knuckles going white.
Jasper is smiling wider than I've ever seen, tipping back his head and laughing when I trip and fall into the river.
He smiles even wider when Rowan disappears for a moment and comes back with a pinecone- stripped down so there's only one seed remaining.
Neither will say what it's for, but when Jasper grabs her in a hug, I can tell it's deeply meaningful. To both of them.

The final gift of the day comes from Mags- assumingly she used my sponsor money for it, but considering how many times Jasper has saved my life, I honestly don't give a shit.
It's some sort of ugly walnut cupcake, lumpy and misshapen. And suddenly, I doubt this came from Mags at all.

Jasper takes one look at it and bursts into tears. Rowan follows suit.

"What?" Caprice demands, leaning over and pushing his hair back so as to better scrutinize his face.
Jasper shakes his head, unable to speak.
Rowan starts crying harder, going to Jasper and burying her face in his chest.
"It's from home." He chokes out.
"You mean it's- it's a District Seven recipe?"
"No. I mean it's my father's recipe. It's his. It's from home."

Jasper seizes the knife that was supplied with it, and cuts himself a rough slice. Shoves it in his mouth.
And shuts his eyes.
"Oh, God. Rowan. Rowan. Rowan, it's his. They made it."
Rowan grabs the knife and cuts herself some, too, bringing it to her nose and inhaling deeply. She takes a tentative bite. Bliss rolls over her features and she, too, closes her eyes.
"Its even lumpy and overcooked like his was." Jasper laughs through his tears, angling his face towards the sky.
"Thanks, Dad. Thanks, Mom. Thanks, Johanna. I love you." He whispers.
I can almost hear their response- a rougher, lower drawl, a voice like smooth honey, and a shrill, sassy lilt.

Singing.

To a son that they love. That they miss.

Caprice and I back off. We give our allies time. The gift must have been so, so expensive- weeks of work for the little cake. But to Jasper, to Rowan? It clearly means everything. Everything.

They sit there for a while, laughing and crying and holding on to each other. It's clear to me then that they're family, blood or no. Like Kelton and I. Like what Caprice is becoming to me. Like what they themselves are becoming to me.

And even if they're going to die... I'm so, so glad they got one last taste of home.

Eventually, they rise to their feet, the cupcake liner tucked into Jasper's pocket carefully, like a treasure.
Rowan gives us a watery smile.
"Sorry about that, guys. We were -"

She's interupted by a scream.
"HELP!" It's shrill. Young. Female.

Caprice's head shoots up. Fear, pure terror, flashes through her eyes.
"Etta." Jasper breathes, turning to Caprice. "It's a trap. It's got to be." .
Caprice shakes her head viciously. "I don't care." She says simply.
And she's off like a rocket, her injured leg nothing but dead weight.
Jasper swears and runs after her, axe in hand. He's not letting her go alone.
I turn to Rowan, a silent question in my eyes.
She nods.
And we go, too.

Little Etta is pinned against a tree, blade to her throat. She's sobbing, but her enthusiastic chatter that befuddled Caesar so is gone. Instead, she just cries. And cries.

Why? The Careers.

All of them. Tein and Robyn, dark bags under their eyes and looking worse for the wear, both wielding a dagger and a sword each.
Cade, smirking up a storm, his knives drawn and ready.
Tulle, her bow nocked and pointing straight at Jasper's heart, knives strapped to her side. And Corduroy, one broadsword in his free hand, one pressed against Etta's throat, and another strapped to his back.

"Let her go." Caprice snarls, more dangerous than I've ever heard her sound.
But Tulle just laughs.
"Or what? You'll kill us? Don't think so, traitor." She jeers.
But Caprice doesn't respond. She just turns to Jasper.
He nods.
Once.

Like it's some secret code, they exchange a small, sad smile.
And then they launch themselves into battle.

Jasper goes straight for Corduroy, shoving the bigger boy away and then pushing Etta away from the tree. He twists just in time to avoid a blow from the now furious enemy- and then blocks another hit from Tulle with the hilt of his axe.
Caprice goes for Cade, jabbing and forcing him to concede step after step with her spear.
In fact, both Caprice and Jasper seem to be trying to push the enemies back, far away from Rowan and Etta and Me.

But we have no intention of just watching. Robyn, Tein, Rowan and I jump into the fray as well- I target Robyn, Rowan charges towards Tein. Jasper deflects another shot from Corduroy before whirling towards Tulle and sending an axe raining towards her head.
She gets a dagger up just in time, pushing Jasper back and away.

I aim a jab with the point of my spear at Robyn's head, and when she ducks I ram the butt of it into her stomach.
She collapses to the ground, wheezing for air, and I'm about to drive the point into her neck when I hear what might have been the worst sound I've ever heard.
Rowan's axe connects with Tein's sword, whirling through the air and landing in the grass behind her enemy. I leap off of Robyn, fumbling for a knife to throw, anything, anything, because Rowan's unarmed and Tein is advancing for the kill and-
And he crumples to the ground, an axe in his skull.

BOOM.

Tein's cannon fires.
I exhale in relief. Rowan had an extra axe, or something.
Except no, she didn't. Except there were only two axes between two tributes. One lies in the grass beyond. One is embedded in the dead boy's head.
I whirl to Jasper, who faces Corduroy and Tulle with no weapons, his axe thrown to save Rowan's life.
To save hers. At the price of his.
He stares them down, head up.
Even as Tulle lunges forwards.
And puts a dagger through his chest.
"NO!" Caprice is streaking towards him, terror apparent in her eyes.
Rowan screams her rage, her fear, and races forwards too.
Jasper clutches the wound and crumples to his knees.
I snarl, rounding on Tulle.
No. No. No. No, no, no.
Jasper will be fine. He'll have to be.

Whatever she sees in my eyes is enough.
"GO!"
And her, Cade, and Corduroy take off in the direction of the Cornucopia. Robyn takes off in the other direction. I suppose that particular alliance is over.
Without missing a beat, I launch myself towards Jasper.
Rowan rounds on me. "Get the sponsors to send money. We can fix him. We can." She's desperate, her breaths coming out in quick pants.
Jasper rasps. "No. Point. Punctured my. Lung."
Rowan shoots him a lethal glare. "Don't you say that, Jasper Mason. We're going to fix you up just like you did us. You got that?"
Jasper shoots her a weak smile, his head dropping back to the earth.
Caprice is sitting at his side, his hand clutched in hers. Rowan drops to kneel beside him, her eyes roving hopelessly over his face.
"Oh, God. Jasper. Come on. I need you. I need you, come on."
Jasper reaches up, his hand wavering. Rowan clasps it in her own.

He turns to me, motions for me to lean over. I do.
"End it, kid. End all of it. And- my Johanna. Keep- and keep her safe." His breath is hot against my ear, barely audible. "I will." My voice is barely perceptible, but Jasper grins nonetheless.
"Yeah, you will. Protect my Johanna."

His deep brown eyes turn to Caprice.
"Don't cry, love." He says softly.
For tears are slowly but surely pouring down her face, creating a little puddle at his side.
"I'll see you soon, remember? In the log house?" He's gasping for air now, coughing out blood.
Caprice nods. Hesitates for a moment. And then kisses him on the lips, never mind the bubbling of his blood.
Not a good-bye. Not for her, at least. It's a see-you-soon.

And finally, finally, Jasper looks to Rowan. To his ally, his friend, his sister.
"Jasper." Rowan moans. "Please, Jasper, don't leave me."
"It's okay, Ro. You'll be okay. Be strong. Be brave. And don't you ever forget who you are. " Jasper breathes. He clasps her hand more firmly and then detangles both hands from Caprice and Rowan's grips. Those long, slender medics fingers fumble with the spring of pine around his neck- splattered with blood but still shining, proudly green. His token, his life, his promises.
"Give. To. Johanna." He extends it upwards. Rowan nor Caprice make any move to seize it, so I do, cupping my hands and receiving it tenderly. Like it's something I need to protect.
I can barely breathe.
Jasper looks skywards. And begins to whisper.
"I love you, Mom. I love you, Dad. I love you, Johanna. I love you, Rowan."
His hand goes back to hers, and he gives Rowan's hand a weak squeeze. Then to Caprice. Squeeze. "And I love you, Caprice."

Then he looks back at the sky, tears glistening in those mischievous, defiant eyes of his. "End it all. For my Johanna." His breath rattles.

Silence.

One second.
Two.
Three.

BOOM.

Rowan flings herself over him. "No. No. Finnick- please. Blight... please. Caprice. Please. Please. PLEASE!"
She's choking, sobs and pleas mixing in her throat.
"Wake up, Jasper. Come on. Wake up. I need you." She shakes his side. "Jasper Mason. Wake up. NOW." Rowan's gasping for air, her eyes gleaming with deranged determination.
"Rowan..." Caprice tries, her sentence cut off by a little sob of her own.
I approach. I kneel beside her. Her and her brother. I rest my fingertips on his open eyelids, closing them gently and now it truly does look like he's asleep. Like he might wake up at any moment and laugh and ask how we could be so gullible.

But he does not. He will not.

"Rowan. He's gone." I choke out. The words come out wrong, wobbly and weird and foreign on my tongue.
I knew this would happen. I knew we would lose allies. But he had become so, so much more than that.
"No." She whispers. Not denial any longer. Just grief. Pure, utter grief, the extent of which I can't even imagine.

A hovercraft appears, but Rowan ignores it and simply adjusts, arranging his head in her lap, holding his hand, playing with his hair and murmuring something under her breath. Stories. About her, him, Johanna, the three of them. They're happy. Sad. Funny. This, again, seems like a moment I shouldn't interrupt. It should remain private to the Tributes of District Seven- despite the fact that it's being broadcast across the country.
So instead, I walk to Caprice. My eyes, I'm sure, are dull with grief.
Hers hold some sort of peace. "I'll see him soon." She whispers. Her eyes flick to Rowan. "I suspect she will, too. But... You've got to win, Finnick. You've got to bring our tokens back. To Johanna, to Blaire, to Annie. You've got to."

I read what she can't say in her eyes. I've got to win so I can fulfill my promise to Jasper. To end it. This. To end the Hunger Games.
And I will.
Or I'll die trying.

So I embrace her.
My friend, my ally, my sister.

"I will."

Chapter 20: Murderers- Games Night 6

Rowan still hasn't moved.
We're not in a safe position at all.
If the Careers were to come right now, we'd easily be overtaken, even without Robyn and Tein.

The hovercraft poses another threat.
"If she doesn't move, they're going to make her." Caprice murmurs, beholding our young ally with sympathy.
And indeed, the hovercraft seems to be descending, ignoring Rowan.

The claws unleash as they usually do, and Rowan throws herself over Jasper's body, snarling.
"Don't you touch him." She screams, her voice coursing with rage.
"Move away from the body, girl." A harsh, cold voice, coming from some sort of speaker.

Rowan doesn't move.

They wait a second. And then the hovercraft groans, and someone steps out.
It's a Capitol woman, and one that I recognize, too. She's the one who inserted our trackers on the first day of the games. And she's striding towards Rowan, annoyance marring her surgically-perfect features.
"Last chance." She warns, brandishing some sort of weapon.

Caprice exhales sharply. She darts towards Rowan and carefully, carefully untangles her from Jasper.
Rowan thrashes. "Let me go! Cresta, I swear if you do not put me down, I will kill you." She hisses, legs and arms flailing as she tries to escape Caprice's grip.
But Caprice does not. "Rowan, they're going to take him either way. I don't want you to get hurt."
And indeed, the tracker-woman is retreating to the hovercraft, rolling her eyes at Rowan.
"Murderers! Murderers, the lot of you!" Rowan screeches.

And then she does something stupid. Reckless, brave, and very, very stupid.

She tugs one of Caprice's daggers free and launches it at the Capitol woman's head.
If she hadn't turned around to look at us, she'd have been killed.
As it is, a loc of hair is shaved off the side of her scalp and she lets out a yip of alarm.
"Brat." The woman snarls, storming towards Caprice and Rowan.
"Filthy district-" She pauses, as if she's been given instructions to back off.
Sends Rowan a sinister smile.
"No matter. I'll be seeing you soon enough."
And then she's back in the vehicle.

The claws go down.
Jasper goes up.

And then both the Boy from District Seven and the hovercraft are gone.

 

All three of us know what she meant.
Rowan signed her own death warrant. But she doesn't care.
Back at our original camp, she snaps one word responses to Caprice, only bothering to be civil with me.

 

She shuts down completely when the anthem begins. Presses her hands over her ears as if to drown it out.
And then it's over.
And Jasper's flashing through the sky.

In true Jasper form, he's scowling in his photo, his dark eyes sparkling with defiance and rage.
Rowan can't tear her eyes away from it.
I wonder if, at home in District Seven, his family is watching. Watching him get killed again, and possibly more times if the commentators find his death interesting enough to dissect, to discuss as if it were a sports game.
I know I'm crying, but I force myself to meet hologram-Jasper's eyes.

"I will." I tell him silently. "I will, I will, I will."
Of course he can't respond- but I think he understands.
I hope he's at the beach. Maybe there, the water would be warmer. He can stuff himself with all the walnut cakes he wants.
And he can wait for Rowan, for Caprice.

Not me, though, not for a while.

I'll see him eventually- but first, I have to win. So Johanna has some little piece of him to hold.

He fades off, and then Tein is there, looking happier than I've ever seen him. Maybe he would have been a good person, home at 11.
He was reaped, after all, he had no choice but to come here.
Perhaps if Jasper lived, he'd have felt some guilt.
Probably a little. But it's not like he attacked the Tribute without cause.
He was going to kill Rowan, after all.

And Jasper'd do anything for the people he loves.
For Rowan, Johanna, Caprice, his family?
He'd burn the world down.
Which is why I will fulfill my promise.
To protect his family when he can no longer.

Chapter 21: The True Target- Games Day 7

Summary:

Kind of a depressing chapter (at least Fin's part is)
Split point of view between Finnick and Cade.

FINNICK
No one slept last night.

Rowan's in her tree, the pinecone she gave Jasper clutched to her chest. She hasn't spoken once.
She won't eat. Won't drink. Won't even move.

I can't get myself to get up, either. If Jasper were here, he'd threaten to drag us into the river if we didn't get our lazy asses up.
But of course, he's not here.
Because he's dead. He's dead. He's dead.
Only Caprice is remotely functional, sorting our leftover sponsor goods and rolling up the tarp.
I think she wants us to move, figuring the Careers will probably regroup and come back eventually. And this spot is too close to where they lured us with Etta at first.

Etta. I wonder where she went.

She had disappeared along with the Careers, but no cannons have gone.
The chatterbox from District 12 still breathes. For now.
I feel slightly sick at the prospect of killing her, though. Will I be able to? Even for Jasper?

I don't know.

Nine other tributes are between me and home.

Cade, Corduroy and Tulle, the three remaining Careers. Rowan and Caprice. Milo. Flick. Etta. Robyn.

"Come on, Rowan." Caprice calls softly. "We've got to move. They'll be coming."
Rowan rocks side to side, the pinecone clutched in her hand.
I force myself to my feet. Caprice shoots Rowan a worried look.
"Rowan, we've got to go. The Careers will be here soon." She wheedles
Rowan mumbles something along the lines of "Let them come."

Caprice turns to me, helpless. I shrug weakly. If she won't move, there's nothing, short of dragging her, that we can do.
Caprice's eyes light with another idea.
"Want to go to the river, Rowan?" She asks hopefully.
Rowan stays silent.
"I'll carry you on my shoulders."
Silence.

How different she is from the cheerful, witty girl of not 48 hours ago. Who laughed and danced and teased and played.
Now she is just a shell.
As if she is already dead.

Eventually, we just stay where we are.
Neither of us will abandon Rowan, and since we collected all of our weapons, we have enough steel to maybe stand a chance.
Especially if it's Tulle.
I'm not usually a very vengeful person. But if I see the girl from District One, I do not think I will hesitate a moment before killing her.
Caprice eventually gets up, informing us she's going to the river to get some water.
Not that Rowan will drink it.
It's like her current plan is just to wait for death. At this rate, dehydration will take her before any form of Gamemaker revenge.

I sit down again, fiddling with a dagger. I can't blame my ally.
I want to just lie down and die, too.

But I cannot, I cannot, I cannot.
So I force myself to eat a stale sponsor roll. Mags sends down some form of juice, and I drink that, too.
I offer both to Rowan, and am greeted with silence.

Once I'm feeling physically better, I push myself to my feet, stretching out my limbs. Without Caprice, I'm the only line of defense between the Careers and Rowan- and I'm not going to let myself be caught unawares.

CADE

Tulle is rambling. Again. I do not know why I am surprised, she does seem to like to fill the silence that I'm sure occupies her mind with chatter- but it is getting quite annoying.
Perhaps Robyn had the right idea in fleeing.
Not that I'm going to- I'm not foolish enough to believe I could beat both Tulle and Corduroy in combat at the same time.
I'm good, but I'm not that good.
No, my brains are what's going to get me out of this- I'm cleverer than the Tributes from One combined.

Although, even I didn't guess at an alliance between Seven and Four. It cost us Tein, and by extension, Robyn.
Not that I cared for either of them- I was going to put a knife in their backs soon enough anyways- but with less manpower is less ground covered.

And I'm beginning to think we're going to need all the help we can get to take out Four. The boy in particular.
Finnick Odair. I run through all I know about him- He's fourteen, he scored a ten in training, he favors a trident although he's formidable with knives and spears as well, he's good looking enough to have the whole Capitol drooling over him, and he's got sponsors to spare.

We do not.

Tulle says that If we kill him, his sponsors will become ours. I think she's failing to see that whoever kills the Capitol's darling will become Public enemy number one.
Tulle wants to take him down as soon as possible- fine with me, so long as she lands the final blow.

And she will.
We're going hunting tonight.

Chapter 22: Water Finds Home- Games Night 7

Summary:

Explicit Character Death :( Blood, etc.

No pictures follow the anthem in the sky tonight.
I suppose yesterday was bloody enough.

Caprice has offered to take watch so I can sleep.
I'm not sure I'll be able to, but my eyelids are literally drooping, so I figure I might as well try.
So I settle myself on the rolled out tarp again.
"Are you okay, Rowan?" I ask.
I'm not expecting a response, but I get one.
"Not really." She rasps.
I'm relieved to hear her speak. "It's okay. Me neither."
I hear rustling as she adjusts.
"But I'll see him soon. So." She continues.
I don't try to deny it. She knows as well as I do that her actions against the Capitol woman will result in her death.
"Say hi to him from me. " I whisper.
Rowan smiles, the first time since Jasper's death. "I will. I'll cannonball right in his face just for you."
I sling my arm around her shoulder.
"You better."

I crack a smile. "Don't let the tarp-bugs bite."
Rowan smiles a little, too. "Oh, I won't."

I wake up with a jerk. I'm a light sleeper at the best of times, but doubly so in the arena. Something is moving in the forest. And mutt, animal, or tribute, it's dangerous to us.
"Rowan. Rowan." I hiss.
"Five more minutes, Jasper." She mutters, rolling over.
My heart plummets, but if we don't move now, it will stop in a matter of minutes. "Rowan, it's Finnick. Someone's coming. Come on."
Rowan's eyes snap open, her face jovial and determined as it always used to be. Then she sees me, sees Caprice- and her face falls, as if she's remembering she no longer has a District Partner.
"Who?" She asks under her breath, scanning the forest beyond.
"No clue."
Caprice, who had been on watch, has risen to her feet, too, one hand firmly clenched around the spear

She walks backwards to my side, her eyes roving- and then fixing on a tree to the fair left. A glimmer, a shine. Eyes. But not animal eyes- no, these are blue. .
"Run." I snarl. To her, to Rowan, to myself. "It's the Careers. Go."

But before we can, the air seems to split.
An arrow. Shining, metal, coursing directly towards my chest. Too fast for me to move, too fast for me to dodge.

All I can think is that I've let him down. I've broken my promise to Jasper. I brace for the impact, for metal cutting through my neck-
But it never comes.

Because Caprice has thrown herself in the arrow's path, her arms open, throat bared, and eyes closed, as if she's hugging the air.

The time doesn't slow. That's a lie that's told in stories. Instead, it speeds up, a terrible, wicked blur.
The thud of impact is sickening. Flesh and blood and muscle.

Caprice jerks. Her mouth opens, but no sound comes out.
The arrow juts from her throat.
Deep.
Too deep.

"No!" I lunge to catch her as she falls. Another arrow whirs past my ear, but I couldn't care less that the Careers still shoot at us.
Rowan takes off towards them, chasing them away.
"Caprice! Caprice, God, why would you do that?" My voice is high, desperate.
She tries to laugh, but it ends in a bloody, cracking cough. "I couldn't stand and watch you die, Fin." Her voice is strained and wet, gurgling with the blood that pours from her neck.
"Take care of Annie for me. Tell her I love her."
"Caprice..." My voice breaks, tears running from my eyes. Tears brim in Caprice's own eyes, so similar to mine but now dull and glassy and staring at nothing.
"Caprice!" Rowan echoes my call, dashing back from her encounter with the Careers, fresh blood on her axe.
But Caprice is slumped in my grasp, her dark head lolling to the side.

And....
BOOM.

I sink to the ground with her in my arms.
She died for me.
She died to save me.

I owe her my life.
And then I remember.
Another promise.

To Annie.
l whirl to Rowan.
"Help me." I beg, my voice cracking.
Rowan's face has gone blank again, but she shakes her head. "She's gone, Fin."
My face crumples. "I know. I know. We've got to get her to the river."

Her face clears, understanding darting through those caramel eyes.

 

And we take Annie's sister back to the water, so they can be together one last time.

I tug the arrow gently through her throat.
More blood gushes out, creating swirls of red in the clear of the river as I lay her in the water. Her hair splays around her, creating a dark halo around her head. Fitting, as she was the closest thing to an angel that I think I've ever met.
And she got what she wanted, in the end. She didn't kill anyone, just like she said.
In fact, she died to save another. To save me.

A big sister, through and through. And not just to Annie, anymore. Caprice Cresta has become my sister, too.
"Say hello to Jasper for me." Rowan whispers, blowing Caprice a little kiss.

There's a boom of a cannon, and I look at Rowan, confused.
"Cade." She says simply, brandishing her axe.
I nod. Then I turn back to my District Partner.

I stare at Caprice for a moment. And then two.

And then I clear my throat. I trudge into the river, clothes and all. Join her in the water, lying face up, staring at the stars.

And begin to sing.

"From the deep, deep blue waves
to the white beach-sea foam
the lap of the current
will always bring you home.

Flowing river banks
to rocky grey lakeshore
the whispers of the water
tell stories of before.

When we used to listen
and not just obey
We followed the moonlight
and never lost our way

But the tide won't be silenced
The water won't be tamed
The sea will keep on speaking
even as it's named

Drift with the rhythm
let your fear wash away
Our voices grow stronger
with the swell of day

So if you're far from shore
or lost in the foam
Remember, you're water
and water finds its home. "

A lullaby from District Four.
But so much more than that.

Just like how she was so much more than just a Tribute.
I press a kiss to Caprice's cheek.
"Go home, Caprice Cresta." I breathe.

And then I clamber out of the water.
And watch as the hovercraft takes her body.

But it's okay.
Her body may be theirs.

But Caprice is water.
And water finds its home.

Chapter 23: Ash & Rowan- Games Day 8

Summary:

Extra explicit kinda gory character Death :(

I hum the song to myself all night. A lullaby, but so much more.
Rebellious in tiny, tiny waves- enough to escape the Capitol residents, the other Districts- but everyone in Four knows it for what it is.
The president probably does, too.

As I sing, I let the tears fall, but I remind myself over and over and over-
She's going home.
She's going home to the water, going home to Jasper.

I hope Annie made it to the sea to say goodbye. Knowing her, nothing and no one could stop her.

 

I peel my eyes open, just as tired as I was before I rested.
Rowan's in her tree again, fiddling with the pinecone.
"Morning." My voice is hoarse.
Rowan looks up, her eyes dull. "Hey, Finnick." She rasps.
"How's it going?"
Rowan smiles at the sky.
"It's going to be today." She says, not quite cheerful but closer to it than she's been.
I'm confused for half a second before I realize.
"Probably." I agree because she needs me to, and she won't believe me if I disagree. She doesn't want to be here any longer- Her hair is coarse and knotted, her eyes lacking any sort of motivation. And besides, she's right.
The Capitol's revenge will be swift.

I go through basic motions of the day- collecting water, sorting the leftover food (Mags sends down some sort of beef jerky- not the most appetizing thing I've ever seen, but I'll choose it over death) and even cleaning my weapons.

Rowan just sits in the tree. Silent. Waiting.
I know she won't eat or drink or move.
But I'm not going to leave her to die alone, no matter how hard she begs me.
"Fin, if it's some sort of mutt, it'll hurt you, too." She pleads.
I brandish my spear.
"I'm not going anywhere, Ro." I promise. I walk to the base of her tree, and grab her dangling hand. Squeeze it.
Rowan sighs, annoyed. "Bitchy fishy." She mutters.
I glare at her, laughing. "Stubborn lumberjack." I retort.
Rowan rolls her eyes. "You're terrible at insults."
"You're terrible-er."
Rowan laughs aloud. "Do you not go to school in District Four?"
"Oh, we do. I simply have better things to do than pay attention in English class."
"Probably giggling at your reflection in the mirror."
"I do not giggle. I brood, like a true man." I respond pompously.

Rowan gives me a look filled with so much disdain I can barely breathe for laughter.

Her old self has made a brief appearance. A final joke, a final tease for what is inevitably coming.

"What's with the pinecone?" I ask, curious.
Rowan arches a brow at me. "I'm saving it for dinner, later." She deadpans.
I groan, but don't respond, waiting.
Rowan exhales loudly. "It's a tradition in Seven. On the day that someone is born, they're gifted a single seed. For Jasper, it was a pine seed-" She waves the pinecone towards me.
"For me, it was a rowan seed, for obvious reasons. Anyway, we receive another seed on each of our birthdays, and treasure them. And then- and then when we die, they're planted. Each in a special place, somewhere important to us." She says the last words in a hush.
Turns her eyes towards me. "This one would be his twentieth."

I nod slowly, trying to blink back the tears that are budding in my eyes. We don't have anything like that in Four, but suddenly, I wish we did. I wish there was something physical, something real, that I could use to honor Caprice. She didn't even bring a token.
"I'll bring it home. To plant with the rest." I say in a rush.
But Rowan just smiles wider. "No. I think I'm going to plant it here."
"In the arena?"
"I think he'd like to know he's still around to torment the Capitol. Besides, it's supposed to be in places that were important or special to him- so I'll do it right beside the river."
The river, which is Caprice. The seed, which is Jasper.
Side by side on earth, even when they're gone.
"I think that's a good idea."

My hands are rough and bleeding. We don't have any sort of shovel, and even though Rowan insists the hole needs to only be a quarter inch deep, the ground near the river is rough and hard.
Eventually, Rowan deems it deep enough. I don't argue. I've never planted a tree in my life. She then covers it carefully with dirt, packs it in. Stands up and smiles down at the pile of dirt.
"There." She says, satisfied. I smile, too. The river seems to speed up, flowing and bubbling with it's pleasure.
Rowan stares out at the river for one second more.
"Bye, Jasper. Bye, Caprice. I'll see you soon." She says.
And then she turns away without a second glance.

Rowan's singing some sort of lewd drinking song, dangling her legs and looking continuously at the sky.
"Will they hurry the fuck up already? I have somewhere to be." She shoots me a grin.
"Lumberjacks to torment."
I return the smile, though I can't say I'm impatient for the thought of my last remaining ally's death.
Because after this I'll have no excuse.
I'll have to fight, I'll have to kill.

Suddenly, a scream cuts through the forest. Rowan looks up slowly, unconcerned.

BOOM.

Rowan arches a brow. "Careers or Gamemakers?" She wonders.
A fireball shooting through the forest answers that particular question.
It's shooting towards me, but slow enough for me to dive to the side.
Slow enough that it's obvious it wasn't supposed to be a killing blow.

They want me away from their target.
Away from Rowan.

Still I fight to get back to her, but the fireballs block my way.
They get faster and faster and it's clear that some Gamemaker, sitting in a clean, cold room somewhere, is getting impatient with my continuous efforts.
Well, fuck that.
I make a particularly daring leap, and one of the fireballs singes the side of my arm. I hiss, drawing it to my chest.
My jacket took most of the damage, I'm pretty sure the actual wound on my arm is only first or second degree. (I wouldn't know. There's not much fire in Four).

Either way, it hurts like a bitch, but it's not stopping me. Rowan stays in the tree, staring at the fireballs with an expression that resembles resignation.
I scream her name. "Rowan! Get out of the tree!"
But she does not.
Not willingly, anyway. But a fireball, the size of an apple but faster than I can track, is heading straight towards her stomach.
The caramel of Rowan's eye bulge.
The fireball goes straight through her
And she topples out of the pine.

"RO!"
She hits the ground with a dull thud, her neck snapping back and her limbs landing in odd positions.
I scramble towards her, eyes budding with tears not only from the ash and smoke but also because I know there is nothing that I can do for my ally. Nothing I can do to save her. Not with the flaky black hole in her stomach. I force myself to look up at her face, but the smell of burnt flesh still makes my stomach heave, and it's all I can do to keep myself from being sick.
Still, I take her hand. I squeeze it, tight.
"Bye, Rowan." I whisper.
She can't speak, but she squeezes my hand back. Weakly, with the last of her strength.
Her eyes travel up to the sky. And she smiles.

BOOM.

The sound vertebrates in my ears. Jasper, Caprice, Rowan. My three allies and friends, gone in three days. One after another, like a trail of dominos.
They knew it was going to happen, knew as I did that three of us would be dead soon.
But at least now they are safe.
I close Rowan's eyes, gently arrange her limbs in a more comfortable position, and try to cover the wound in her stomach with her jacket.
The material brushes against my own injury, but I ignore it, now brushing Rowan's hair off of her face.
There. Now she looks like she could be having some sort of happy dream.

Perfect.

I sit and wait for the hovercraft. The woman she attacked is driving, I can tell, but even she looks somewhat repulsed by the extent of Rowan's wounds. I wonder if it was deemed too gruesome for television. Of course killing children in the most gory ways imaginable is okay, but seeing said wounds safe and sound from home is not. Of course.
The claws seize her none too gently, lifting her emaciated body into the sky. I imagine Rowan watching all this with humor in her eyes, telling Jasper she's glad she got to anger the Capitol woman, even in her death. I imagine Jasper rolling his eyes and shoving her into the water, Caprice laughing at the both of them.
They're good and safe now. Good and safe. But their families are not.
And now there are only six of us left. Someone else perished because of the Fireballs, but I won't know who until tonight.
Five people between me and my promises. Three I will have no trouble killing. Milo, Flick or Etta, however- will their lives be worth my promises?

The woods are so quiet without Rowan's chatter. I'm completely and utterly alone, and I can't say I like it.
There's suddenly a loud crashing sound above me and I take back that particular feeling. It's too high to be any of my competitors- unless it was Corduroy who was killed by the fireballs and has somehow fallen out of a hovercraft (he's the only one large enough to make such a racket) but that seems so unlikely I'm assuming it's some sort of mutt.
I traipse through the woods, my spear held high.

The crashing seizes with a loud thump, and I tense myself, preparing for the sound of feet or wings crashing towards me. I won't die by mutt. I won't, I won't, I won't.
There's just silence.
I'm starting to revisit my Corduroy theory as I creep closer and closer, my weapon prepared. I wouldn't put it past the Careers, or even clever Flick, to set a trap for me.

But it's not the Boy from District One, and it's not a trap.
It's a shimmering silver parachute. And attached to the end is the single best sponsor gift they could have given me.

A shining gold trident.

My jaw quite literally drops. I've never seen such a big gift being delivered to a Tribute. Maybe it was some sort of accident? Maybe it will come to life somehow and attack me? I creep towards it, my spear still poised to attack.
What a way to die that would be, killed by an inanimate object.
But the trident doesn't attack me.
It just sits there. Golden and beautiful and perfect.

So I drop the spear. And I seize my favorite weapon. It sits just right in my hands, warm and solid and right. There were no Tridents in the Cornucopia. If there were, I'd have taken out the Careers when they attacked Etta.
But now?
I'm pretty much unstoppable.

Well, not completely. Not yet.
Beside the Trident I find a tub of burn medicine for my arm. I probe my finger in it and spread it all over- it feels numb and tingly immediately. Sighing with relief, I trekk into the forest.
There's one more thing to do.

See, at home, we don't really use fishing rods. They're slow, expensive, and unwieldy. Instead, we typically use Tridents- and nets.
The only problem is what to use.
I don't have any rope, and besides I'd need lengths and lengths of it to make what I want.
What would be ideal would be something that's in abundance here, malleable enough for it not to snap, long enough to weave...
I'm such an idiot.
Vines.

I run to the nearest tree, pulling myself up.
Jasper and Rowan would have laughed at my dismal attempts of climbing trees, but it does the job, and soon enough I have a massive pile of the stuff in front of me.
So I set to work.

An hour later, my fingers are burning and bleeding, my head is pounding, I've got tears in my clothing from falling out of a tree (Don't tell Rowan.) and my butt is wet from sitting in the mud. I'm also quite grumpy because the vines are not what I'm used to working with, and they also don't smell great.

But I've got a net.
It's hideous, lumpy, and Kelton would have mocked me for eternity for it, but it's a net and I doubt anyone at the Capitol would have been able to do better, so there. My friends in Four are going to have a field day, though. If Annie wasn't- well, probably furious at me for not saving her sister, she would have doubled over laughing. She's always been better with knots than me. To my eternal annoyance.

"I'm sorry, Annie." I mouth, tossing my handiwork over my shoulder and striding back to our old campsite.
The pine tree where Rowan sat is smoldering, causing smoke to pour into the air.
It's like a beacon. I'm here. Come kill me.
But the only ones that would actively do so would be the Careers, or maybe Robyn.
And they don't know I've got my Trident and net, don't know that I could kill any of them in a second if I needed to.

So I settle down for the night.
Let them come, if they want to.
I'll be ready.
And if they don't... well, in the morning, I'll come for them.

Chapter 24: Lonely Promises- Games Night 8

Summary:

No witnessed deaths here, but gear up because the next couple chapters are going to be quite brutal.

It's weird being alone.

I haven't slept without someone guarding my back once. Not once.
First, it was the Careers. Then Jasper. Then Caprice. Then Rowan.
Now it's just me.
Even with my trident, I can't sleep.

Of course, the odds don't seem to be in my favor- I was on the verge of drifting off when a cannon shot fired, and then of course I jerked up and now I'm not going to be able to fall asleep until I see who it was.
Two mystery deaths today.
I suppose it's probably too much to hope for that they were Tulle and Corduroy.

So I'm dozing high in a tree. After quite the struggle to get up, I managed to perch on one of the lowest-hanging branches- this way I'll be able to see the Careers coming. Besides, it reminds me of my allies from District Seven.

And speaking of them, the anthem is blaring, loud and jarring. How many nights have I been in here? Only eight, I think. And yet, it feels like a lifetime.

First up is Cade, solemn and dark and quiet as ever in his photo. Rowan, chasing him down after Caprice's death, was the cause of his downfall- or, her axe, more specifically.
Perhaps I might have mourned him more if he hadn't volunteered, hadn't smiled so gleefully after killing Juno.

Next up is Flick, who was mystery Cannon number one. I wonder if he was killed by Fireballs, or if his death was the cannon that woke me.
I suppose I'll only know if I get out of here. Still, I force myself to remember everything I could about the dead boy- the shine of his glasses, the quick, clever way he talked, how he always moved his hands a lot when he spoke.
I wonder if his family was glued to the television. It's not often Tributes from District 3 make it this far in the Games.

And then it's Caprice.
Smiling, happy in her photo, those brown curls rippling behind her.
Annie is surely watching the last little bit, the last reminder of her sister.
"Remember you are water, and water finds its home." I sing softly. A reminder. Not just to Caprice, but to Annie, too. That Caprice is safe, that she's free of the Capitol, the arena.
As if she's listening to my hushed lyrics, hologram Caprice fades away.
A single tear tracks down my face, but I hold my head high and stare at the last flicker of Caprice's smile.
I don't know when it was taken, but she looks truly pleased, as if she's with Jasper or Annie or Rowan or I.
I hope she's as happy as she is in that photo now.

Caprice is replaced by the second mystery death, Milo from Five. I know very little about him, except that he had a girlfriend back home. She sent him here with a ring on his finger- her own promise to him. Judging by the way he talked about her in their interview, the softness that touched his eyes, they'd truly been in love. Like Jasper and Caprice, if they'd had more time.
I hope Milo's girlfriend didn't have to watch him suffer.

Finally, it's Rowan, the blonde of her hair tucked into her signature braid and snaking down her back. She's laughing, her motions slowed down for dramatic effect. Caramel eyes sparkle with amusement and joy, and there's no chance this was taken when she was looking at anyone from the Capitol, because I recognize that expression.
She only ever directed it at Jasper, at her brother. Or during her interview, when she spoke of her other brother, her biological one. Ronan. Rowan and Ronan, she'd joked. Only a letter could ever separate us, she'd said.
Now worlds seperate them.

I let another tear fall, and remind myself that she wanted to go home to Jasper. Wanted nothing more to do with the Capitol's games.
And suddenly, I admire her so, so much. For going out with her head up, for being defiant to the end.
I hope when I die, it will be in much the same fashion.
But not yet. First I need to win, need to protect Johanna and Annie and Rohan and Blaire.
I need to fulfill my promises. I need to end it.

And if I'm to do that, I need to sleep. Otherwise my yawns will scare Tulle and Corduroy and Robyn away.
And Etta.
I'm still not sure if I'll be able to kill her.
She's so tiny, yet so full of life.
Jasper died protecting her, protecting Rowan, from the Careers.
Would I be any better than Robyn, then Tulle, if I took her life? Her family would cry for her just as Jasper's did for him. They're still human, even if I knew him and she was a stranger.
Perhaps I'll find her. Ask her to be my ally.
That's what any decent person would do. And yet, there's only five of us left.
And I would not want it to be left to the two of us.

Eventually, I fall asleep.
My dreams are not any more pleasant than the real world.
I've pinned Etta to the ground, my dagger at her throat. Except it's not Etta, it's Annie, and Caprice is watching me, her eyes burning with anger.
"I told you to protect her!" She screams. "And you'll kill her for nothing but your own worthless life? You're just as bad as the Capitol, Finnick Odair. You're a monster."
And then it flashes and she's pushing me into the sea and holding me down. And then Jasper is there, and then Rowan, Vera, Blaire, Kelton, Wess, Alden, Maris, all the dead Tributes that I've failed or let die.

I'm the best swimmer I know, but drowning has always been my biggest fear. To be betrayed by my home, my favorite place? I'd rather die any other way. Shot through the heart, ripped to shreds by mutts. Just not the water.
But I deserve this, I suppose.
So I let myself be drowned by those whose lives I couldn't save, those I didn't protect.

Chapter 25: All the Good Ones Die - Games Day 9

Summary:

Trigger warning- Child death, blood and gore

I jerk awake.

I've been drowned again and again and again, and still I feel as if I cannot breathe.
I wonder if the Capitol could simply will the air from my lungs.
They control everything else in the arena.
Well, they didn't control Rowan or Jasper or Caprice. But they do control me.

As I stumble out of the tree and rub my eyes, seizing that beautiful trident- I have every intention to kill today.
I will kill today, just as they want me to.

As I sit to eat Mags' supplied breakfast, dried fruit bars and something I believe to be orange juice, I ruminate the other tributes might be.
I doubt Corduroy and Tulle have budged from the Cornucopia- they'd think of it as the safest place to defend, with all their supplies.
Perhaps I should try to take one of them out today. Corduroy, probably- I doubt Tulle would go down without a real, honest to goodness fight.
Besides, she prefers long range. Her arrows would be a poor weapon against me and my Trident if we were face to face.
Perhaps I could catch Corduroy unawares with a spear to the back, or something. Though I'm not sure I want to put another weapon into Tulle's hands...

On the other hand, I've zero clue where Etta's gone. She's a real wild card, and she could be anywhere from inside the Cornucopia to in a fucking cloud, for all I know. The trouble will be finding her, not killing her, as much as I hate to think about it.

And then there's Robyn. She's remained somewhere in the forest, that's for sure. Those calluses on her hands showed clear signs of climbing, and her being from 11, she'd know what was safe to eat, what wasn't.
Which means she's probably the closest to me.

I think I'll go track her down.

I wolf down the fruit bar, seize my trident and net, and begin to search, keeping a careful eye above me.
I know exactly how well the girl can throw those daggers- I watched her put one into Caprice's leg from several meters away.
My way of searching for her is methodical- I look up every single tree. Though a few of them play host to several fluffier creatures, there's a lack of humans. Perhaps I'm wrong? Maybe she deemed the bog safer, since she knows full well I'd remain here. Or maybe she's up one of the thousands of trees I haven't searched yet.
Boredom and relief battle for dominance- as despicable as the girl is, I don't truly want to kill her. Even though she killed multiple tributes and hurt Caprice. She didn't volunteer. She doesn't want to be here any more than I do.
I can't help but let relief win when I spend another fruitless hour searching.

Defeated, I'm about to turn around and let Mags send me lunch, but before I can, I hear a little whimper.
I whirl around. Nothing.
An animal, I guess.
But then I hear it again. And this time it's speaking. "Help. Me. Ple-Please."
The only one left in the arena capable of sounding like that is Etta.
It could be another trap.
The Careers know it works, last time they tried it it ended with one of us dead.
But she sounds so little and helpless.
"Etta?" I whisper shout.
"He-here."
I whirl around. "I can't see you."
A flutter of movement to my left. Concealed in some sort of bush that I completely ignored, completely forgot about, is the girl from District 12.
I rush to her side. "Etta!"
Etta's dark hair is matted and tangled. Her gray eyes are dull and glassy with pain as they slide over me. She tries to smile in greeting, but only manages a little half-grimace.
"What happened?"
She points weakly to her neck, where Corduroy's sword has clearly left it's mark.
It's not that deep of a wound, but its clearly infected. She's trembling, even skinnier than she was (And she was tiny before the Games even started) and she's clearly recently been crying.
"Oh, God. Alright. Do you want me to try and wash it out?"
She shakes her head weakly. "No point. I won't be able to beat the rest of you, anyway." She murmurs. So few words from the chatterbox. I suppose there's not much to be cheerful about, here.
I scowl. "Well, I'm not just going to leave you here." I say.
Etta smiles. "I know. But I'd rather go quickly. Rather go now." She says.
And suddenly, I understand. She's right. Her odds of winning are remarkably low. Her making it even this far is a miracle in and of itself.
Infection, starvation, dehydration- whatever takes her first, it'll be long and painful.
"Do you want me to-" I gesture at my trident.
She sighs with relief. "Yes. Thank you, Finnick."
I swallow, suddenly regretting my offer. But I force myself to seize the trident, and then shift her so that she's tucked in my arms.
She leans heavily against my body, impossibly small and so, so warm. Fever hot, shivering, sweat beading on that tiny brow, pain in the innocent grey eyes.
Too young, too innocent for these Games.
"Close your eyes, Etta. Think of home." I instruct softly.
She does so, but then opens them again a second later.
"Will it hurt?" She asks, her voice impossibly quiet and so, so devastating.
I swallow a sob.
"Only for a moment, sweetheart." I promise as I fight to control myself. "Shut your eyes, okay? Think of your home, of your family."
And she obeys, a little smile tilting on heavily chapped lips. She says something so quiet under her breath I can't hear it, but I imagine it's a last goodbye to the things I've mentioned.
"Ready?"
She nods.

I thrust the trident into her heart. Etta's eyes fly open, but there's no regret in them. Like Mason, gratefulness is the only expression that passes across her face when she beholds me- and then seconds later, she's dead.
Quick, and relatively painless.
Heaven compared to the alternative.
But- "I'm sorry." I whisper to the sky, to those she was saying goodbye to.

BOOM

"I'm SORRY!" My voice rises to a wail. My first kill. Though it was honestly closer to a suicide, it will be marked as mine for the sponsors.
I've just killed a little girl.
How despicable they must think me in District Twelve- where a Victor's Prize would have been their very salvation. Where their tributes never get this far, where the barest ember of hope must have bloomed. And then been put out.
By me.
A voice that sounds a lot like Jasper's in my head informs me that I'm being an idiot, and she was going to die otherwise. That I gave her a gift.

But I still killed her. God, I killed someone. I killed someone. I killed someone.
And now I've got to do it again? To someone who doesn't want to die, who might very well live if not for me?
Forget about deserving it, I'm not even sure if I'll be able to.

But I must. For Jasper, for Rowan, for Caprice.
So I brace myself. Pull the trident from Etta's chest in one, smooth movement.
I pluck a wildflower. Tuck her hair behind her ear, the flower with it.

And then rise to my feet and stumble away.

If I continue to wander through the forest, I think I will pass out. So instead, I decide to see if I can confirm where Corduroy and Tulle are.
The Cornucopia is my guess, and sure enough, after a walk through the woods, I peek through the branches and spot two heads of blonde hair sorting through a significantly smaller mountain of supplies. I'm too far to tell for sure, but neither of them look like they've been doing too well- Tulle's hair, which was always so shiny and perfect, whips behind her in knots.
Corduroy is hunching over, his posture poor.
Have the Tributes from One realized what a threat I am? Or are they running out of food? Maybe they realize that there are only four tributes remaining, and there really should not be any remaining alliances.
That one of them will kill the other soon enough.

And indeed, they seem to be discussing something, Tulle's voice rising loud enough for me to hear.
"You're lucky I'm giving you a chance to run! If you were anyone else, I'd have killed you already!" She shrieks.
Corduroy's voice rumbles something in response, angry and sharp.
"Yeah, take your sword, whatever." Tulle spits in response.
It seems the friendship between the two is long gone.
Corduroy seizes a broadsword, hesitates for a second, and then snatches a backpack, too. He takes a few strides, then turns back to look at his District Partner.
Does he want to salvage their alliance?
Sympathy, however misguided, pours through me as Tulle responds, and his face crumples.

He pulls himself together quickly, however, fixing his backpack and his face, and beginning to stride away from her.
Towards me.
Oh, shit.
Tulle pulls her bow, aiming it at Corduroy's receding back.
Is she cowardly enough, riddled with enough dishonor, to shoot?
If she returns home, they will hate her forever for that.
Thankfully for her reputation, she does not.
Unfortunate for me, though, because it means I have to deal with a fuming mad giant with a sword.
Who is now mere meters away from me.
Somehow, he still hasn't seen me.
He's either blind as a bat or I've suddenly turned-

"You." Corduroy snarls, his sword out and ready as he finally sees me.
I'm not sure what inspires this level of loathing, but I suppose it doesn't really matter.
I step away from the tree, Trident in my right hand and net in my left.
"You think you can beat me with your fishing gear, Four?" He snarls.
I cock my head to the side. "Well, yes, actually, I do." I respond.
Corduroy lets out a feral laugh. "Been wanting to deal with you for a while. Tulle's going to be so jealous."
We circle each other, looking for any sort of opening.
"Perhaps she'll kiss you when you bring my corpse back- oh, wait. I forgot. She kicked you out, didn't she?"
Corduroy bares his teeth. "Shut your filthy mouth, Odair." He growls.
I laugh, too. "Odair, Four. Are you too thick to remember my actual name, Corduroy Vindex?"
He growls again. "Oh, I know your name well enough. I just don't like the taste of fish on my tongue." His retort is mediocre at best, but I snort, because it's stupid, fine, but it's also something Kelton would get a kick out of. If I wasn't fighting for my life, I'm sure he'd be howling.
Knowing him, he's probably howling either way.
God, I miss him.

My temporary distraction gives Corduroy the chance he needs.

Honestly? If it were a spear in my hand, and not a trident, I'd be dead. But it's like an extension of my hand- a pronged, deadly limb. His first, running strike is aimed directly at my head- I bring the hilt of the trident up high enough to block it, sending him stumbling back a few feet.
Then Corduroy lunges, lightning fast. Before he can give me a free body-piercing, my training kicks in and I roll out of the way, unfurling my net as I go.
It wraps around his legs, and when he goes for me again, he's hopelessly entangled, his shins pinned together by my fishing gear. Before he can react, before he can free himself, I lift my trident... and I plunge it through his exposed back.

His body arches, letting out a small gasp of pain- and then he's silent.

BOOM.

Dead. I've killed someone. But this time- but this time, he could have lived if not for me, could have gone home-

Jasper. Caprice. Rowan. Johanna. Annie. Blaire. Kelton.

Their names run through my head. They are the only things keeping me going, keeping the blood pumping through my veins.
Otherwise, I think the pure guilt would have been the end of me.
Corduroy. Etta.
I've become nothing but a murderer for the Capitol to watch.
But I need to win this thing.
And no once decent ever wins the Hunger Games.
All the good ones die.

Chapter 26: Blood On My Hands- Games Night 9

Summary:

Trigger Warning- Mentions of suicide

You wouldn't know what I'm feeling unless you're a Victor. Or maybe if you've killed someone, I suppose.
But then if you killed someone for fun, I'm not sure you'd be feeling the crushing guilt that I am.

Because God, I can't breathe.

I'm drowning on land.

My breaths are raspy and deep, and still I need more air and oh my God.
Maybe I should just kill myself.
Do I really want to be here?
I would do it, I think.
But I told Kelton I'd try, told Jasper I'd end it.
Suddenly I'm regretting the decisions, the words, the promises of past-Finnick.
Perhaps he'd thought I'd be able to do this. Well, then he was an idiot. As cocky as he pretended to be on Caesar Flickerman's stage.
Present Finnick is suffering for his questionable choices.
Present Finnick is actually dreading the national anthem. Present Finnick is going to pretend as if he has had nothing to do with the two that are dead today, because he wouldn't do such a thing, because he's not a monster.

Perhaps Present Finnick is insane as well as an idiot.
And that sounds like something Kelton would say. Suddenly, I want to go home so, so badly. I miss the salty stench, the starchy fabric, the reek of fish that is District Four. Homesickness is something I haven't really had the luxury of feeling, but now that it's here, it's here to stay.
Maybe it's a good thing. Maybe it'll drive me to do the unspeakable.
We're in the final three now.
No one else will die of starvation or infection or dehydration.
The Gamemakers will want to watch us battle it out.

Present Finnick's heart-rate doubles when he hears the first notes of the anthem.
Present Finnick wonders if he even deserves to live right now.
Perhaps the better thing would just be to kill myself.
It would be defiant in its own way.

Fucking promises.

The anthem goes quicker than usual, and then there's Corduroy across the sky.
I don't think I'm imagining the cry of anguish. Is it Tulle, regretting forcing her District Partner to flee, resulting in his death? Maybe she genuinely did care for him, she just cared for herself more.
Or is it the people in District One, mourning their son, their friend, their brother?
Perhaps it's me.
Perhaps I'm mourning the better person I used to be.

There is blood on my hands and I can't wash it off no matter how hard I scrub and I can't bring them back and I'm. A. Monster.

I'm not even crying.
How terrible I am to behold the face of someone I killed, their last monument, and not even shed a tear?
The boy from District Four, dry at last.

And then there's Etta, cheerful and chipper as she always used to be.
Does she hate me for not trying to save her?
Do her loved ones think me a coward?
I certainly do.

It takes hours for me to fall asleep - and even the stars seem sharper, brighter, as if they are glaring down at me, too.

 

When I finally do, I'm plagued by relentless nightmares- Corduroy dying again and again, my Trident in his back- but his blood doesn't stop flowing, drowning me and stealing the air from my lungs until all I can breathe is blood. And then my Trident plunges into Etta's heart and she's crying and her tears start to drown me too... and then Jasper, Caprice, Rowan, dying again and again and I can only watch, drowning slowly in the proof of my victims sorrow.
But strangely? I'm relieved, in the dream. Death seems like a gift.
At least now I won't have to do this anymore.
And then it flashes and I'm on the beach my mother told me of. It's safe and warm and peaceful. Death is so much better than life.
Perhaps that's why I stubbornly remain on this side. Perhaps this is my punishment.

I jerk awake at what's probably about 4 in the morning. A quick glance around tells me I wasn't found in the night and I am still in the arena.
Tulle and Robyn and me.
Unless they found each other and one of them was killed in the night- and I somehow didn't wake from the cannon.
Selfishly, I hope this is the case.

Of course, I doubt I'll be that lucky.

I must seem truly depressed, because Mags chooses that moment to send something flying down. Why is she up at this hour?
Well, I doubt she'd be getting much sleep - I sure wouldn't, if my Tribute was in the final three. Come to think of it, I don't think I'd be able to sleep at all. Throughout the entire games. I reach out to snatch the parachute. I'm expecting some sort of food or drink, and I'm not dissapointed- it's a loaf of-no it's fucking not.
Seasalt loaf.
I don't think I have ever needed anything more.
I tear into it greedily, like a starving wild animal- my mother would scold me for my poor table manners. The thought makes me grin.

When my stomach is full to bursting, I carefully put the rest of the loaf back in it's container.
I'll finish it in the morning.

I lay my head back against the trunk of the tree, my eyes closing right away, the taste of home on my tounge.

I'm dead to the world within seconds- and this time, I don't dream.

Chapter 27: Let Me Save You - Games Day 10

Summary:

Trigger warning- Death, insanity

Dual Perspective- Finnick and Tulle

FINNICK
The taste of sea-salt is still on my tongue when I wake.
It's so familiar I almost think this whole thing was one terrible dream.
And then I realize I'm sitting on a tree, not a bed, I'm wearing a ripped jacket and wind pants, not pyjamas, and also I'm really fucking cold.
The Gamemakers must have cranked the temperature down, hoping we'd set fires. Lure each other. Even though this has all gone by quite quickly- they don't want a day of us all sitting around trying to find each other.
They want blood and gore and death.

I do not want blood and gore and death. Not at all.
So I hop out of the tree, intending to maybe go to the river.
Maybe getting clean will make me feel better after killing- No. I'm not going to think his name. There will be time enough to mourn after I win. My whole life, in fact.

Of course, I grab my Trident, net, and the remaining salt-loaf. Perhaps I'll be able to pretend I'm home with these tools- all things I would be able to find in District Four.

After multiple trips to the River and back there's a heavy trail of footsteps leading there. My heart pangs with sorrow as I spy a smaller one that's sunk deeper into the ground- that was where Rowan jumped onto Jasper's back.
Seems an eternity ago.

My eyes are cast downwards as I identify the owners- The big one is Jasper, the one similar to mine Caprice, and the comically tiny one is Rowan.
The mark of my allies is still left here.

When I reach the river, I find signs of them, too- a missing rock in a pile, where Jasper foot caught after Rowan pushed him, the mound of dirt from his pine.

But... but that wasn't us. Someone else has been here- and recently, judging by the apple core that hasn't yet been rotten, sitting like a beacon on one of the rocks.
I hear her coming up behind me-
I whirl around just in time to catch Robyn's blow with the hilt of my weapon.

My opponents' eyes are maniac and wild, glancing around rapidly, as if she expects there to be more than one of me.
Her hair, too, is almost as bad as Etta's- crusted with blood and mud and grime, knotted and matted in clumps.
Her twin knives are bathed in a coat of dried blood, like she couldn't be bothered to clean them. Or herself.
I can barely get my trident to the side to parry her next blow in time- those knives flash wickedly fast at my head, my stomach, my neck.
"Gotta- get outta here-gotta...- gotta leave. Gotta go home can't- can't-" She's rambling madly, not to me but almost to herself.
"Robyn?" I ask, out of breath. She's clearly not doing well, and if something has happened, maybe she went insane from killing Tulle, maybe some sort of mutt attacked her- it would benefit me to know. (Fine- even though she's trying to kill me, I'm also worried about her. She truly sounds insane.) "What's wrong?"
Her eyes look terrified as they meet mine. "Stuck. Stuck. Need out. Can't get out. Need to go home. Tein is dead and they are dead and need out." She cries, those knives still flashing down on me.
"Out of where? The arena?" I gasp for breath, dodging.
Robyn nods frantically.
"Two left. Killed so many, it doesn't matter now."

So that's it. She's gone insane with the need to get out of here.
I wonder if 11 is big, wide, full of open plains. Maybe she feels trapped, claustrophobic in the arena- I haven't gone far enough to find any sort of wall, any sort of force field- but the arena doesn't go on forever. We're as trapped as a fish in an aquarium, only able to swim around as the humans ogle us, rap on the glass, make comments on our appearances.
Except, of course, her and I are more human than the Capitol people.

Or were, at least. We've changed- she's no longer sane, I've become a monster.
Would she even realize she'd left the arena, if she won? Her eyes still whirl back and forth, and she's practically trembling.
Suddenly, she looks up to the sky and screams.
I jolt my head up, too expecting some sort of mutt- but there's nothing, not a single cloud.
Still she screams, terror apparent in her voice.
Has she been stung by something? Is she hallucinating?
Either way, her attacks have significantly weakened when her crazed gaze turns back to me, though they still aim for my heart.
It's still a matter of time before she lands one- and that will mean death for me.
So, with a spin of my trident, I send one knife spinning out of her hand, far enough she can't get it without me putting my trident in her back.
The remaining knife is sent in a brutal jab towards my heart.

I slam my trident into her knife-hand, hard enough to break the bone.
She lets out a scream of pain, dropping the weapon and cradling her injured wrist.
I angle my trident at her neck. A quick death is the only gift I can give her- and thoughts of mercy would end up with a cannon and my face in the sky.

Her head begins to shake, crazy and frantic, her eyes meeting mine.
"No, no, no, Can't be you, can't, going to ruin you like her, like him, like all of them-"
"What?" Is she trying to trick me into letting my guard down? Has she hidden another weapon?
Robyn's head continues to shake. "Kill me, kill me, free anyways- but Finnick. Finnick, let me save you." She's pleading now, tears pouring out of those dark eyes.
I'm thoroughly confused, but I lower the trident cautiously. Deranged dark eyes rove over my face, as if studying it.
Then she lunges forwards, wrapping her broken hand around my head to hold it in place and raking the nails of her free hand down my face.
They are cracked and jagged and probably have dirt under them and they're dragging divots through my skin and blood is running into my eyes and I can't see her and god, does it hurt.
"Robyn, stop!" I cry, thrusting my trident at random places, my hesitance to kill gone in this threat that will kill me if I don't end it, first.
"I'm helping you, I'm saving you let me save you-" Her voice is still frantic, but somewhat calmer, more measured now. As if she got what she wanted.
I get a second of relief as she prepares to make another pass down my face, and I jab my trident again.
This time, it doesn't hit empty air, thudding against something solid.
Robyn screams, not with pain but with desperation. "No! No, stop, I'm not done, I'm trying to save-"

Her voice cuts off, and she thuds to the ground.
I scramble away, trying to wipe the blood from my eyes. I hiss in pain as my fingers make contact with my skin- she did a number on my face, though I think most of them are surface cuts and I doubt they'll scar.
Still, it hurts like hell, and infection is deadly in the arena.
Then again, considering the way Robyn is gasping on the ground, it's only Tulle and I left.
Her hands are dripping with my blood, but her dark eyes are fixed on my face-
"Not enough, not enough, I'm sorry I tried I tried I tried I-
Her breath rattles in her throat.

BOOM

Her eyes are calmer in death, no longer wild and panicked.
I hope wherever she ends up, it's open and massive and free of restraints.
Nothing like the arena that drove her to insanity- drove someone once so quick and clever and skilled and vicious and young into some rambling mad-woman.

I stagger away from her, not waiting for the hovercraft- I don't want to watch. I've killed another.
This one, I suppose, was in self defense. But still, it was against someone clearly unstable, unwell- she might have been able to best me if she had been in good form. In fact, I'd have considered her to be the biggest threat.
But no matter.
I shove her name from my head, where the rest of my victims wait.
They will surely haunt me in my dreams, haunt me when this is over- but for now, they will wait.

They have to, or I won't be able to get this done. I won't be able to go home.
There's only one left. Tulle. If I kill her, I'll be able to go home. Home, at last.
Will Kelton be disgusted with me?
Will he even want to see me, when I get back? Will Annie? It would be much harder to protect her if she avoids me.

I shove those thoughts out, too, imagining them rushing out of me like the flow of a river.
None of this will matter if I don't get back.

Knowing her well enough, I'd guess she'd still be at the Cornucopia. She might come looking for me, but she'd be more likely to wait me out until I come find her- so she gets the advantage of knowing her turf, and picking the battlefield and et cetera.
But if it takes too long, the Gamemakers might drive us together using mutts or fireballs or whatever.
The viewers will be on the edge of their seats right now- There's two left, two Careers, two reasonably well matched candidates that both have several kills each.
I wonder how many of them are betting on me.

TULLE

The little brat from Four has been busy recently.
The Girl from Seven, the Boy from Five, The Girl from Twelve, Caprice, Corduroy, Robyn.
All dead within a span of two days.
Maybe some of them were Gamemaker victims- like the Girl from Seven, who was his ally.
Or maybe he backstabbed her.
I snort to myself at the thought. He'd probably tried to save her.
Probably tried to save all of them, honestly. Except for Corduroy.
A flicker of guilt runs through me.
I didn't give two shits about anyone in here, except for my District Partner. I wouldn't say we were friends, exactly, but we knew each other, and he would be the last one on my list to kill.
I didn't want that to end up happening, so I sent him off.
But then he died minutes later.
At least it didn't come down to me and him, though. Killing your Partner doesn't exactly make you popular at home, even if you're from District One.
Killing those who killed your Partner, though...

I cannot think of a situation in which I lose.
I've got strength, weight, experience and range in my favor. Maybe if he'd had that Trident of his, I could give him skill- then it might be a problem.
But I'm pretty confident I'll be able to beat Finnick Odair armed only with his spear.
Or my spear, really- I've got more than one score to settle with Finnick Odair. If it weren't for him, perhaps my strongest ally would still be alive. It was Robyn's fault, really- I almost put an arrow through her then and there for suggesting we end the Tributes from Four.
But I guess Odair took care of her for me.

I yawn. Loudly.
Well, one more night in the arena wouldn't be the end of the world, I suppose. I can avenge Corduroy tomorrow.
And then? Hello, District One. Hello, glory. Hello, riches.
Good-fucking-bye arena.

Chapter 28: The Last Night- Games Night 10

My face is itchy.
Mags has sent me some sort of cream for my face, and although it doesn't hurt anymore, it fucking itches.
Not to mention I caught sight of myself in the reflection of the river, and I look monstrous.
I'm aware this should not be an enormous cause of concern. And it isn't. But worrying about my appearance is better than worrying about Tulle and her whereabouts and et cetera.

The sky has started to fade to black, and somehow, I know. This will be my last night in the arena. One way or another, I will be out of here by this time tomorrow. I don't know if it will be in a casket or in a hovercraft.
But I will be gone.
And that thought is so incredibly comforting.

It's so incredibly comforting, that when the anthem blares, I just roll my eyes- even though I know that sound will haunt my dreams for the rest of my life.
Only one face- Robyn. Clever and smirking as she was before it all went downhill. Before the arena ruined her.

Sleep is a long time coming tonight.
Instead, I busy myself by making a new net (the first got damaged by Corduroy and Robyn's attacks).
My skill at climbing trees is still utterly dismal, and I can almost hear Rowan and Jasper laughing at me as I fall out, hitting the ground with a thud, for the third time in ten minutes.
Muttering a few choice words under my breath, I glare up at the tree I've chosen- vines wrap around the trunk and up the branches tauntingly. Though it at first seemed a clever choice for it's low hanging branches and knobs in the trunk, I've found them both to be insufferably slippery.

After several more disastrous attempts, I manage to harvest enough vines for my net.
Embarrassingly, weaving the net takes half the time getting the stuff for it did- but no matter. It's done now.

And then I'm left with nothing to busy myself with. It was better, I think, when I had allies here, to distract me, had tasks to complete- now all I can do is wallow in my own anxieties.
Is it possible I'm underestimating Tulle?
She, after all, received the same training score as I. She'll be harder to best than Corduroy, or even Robyn in her crazed state.
We're on relatively equal footing here.
Except... I run a finger down my Trident appreciatively.
She doesn't know I have this, I suppose, which is an advantage.
I know for a fact that she has a bow, a broadsword, and two daggers on her person, not to mention all the other supplied Cornucopia weapons scattered around.
A spear or a broadsword would probably be the best defense against my Trident and I, but considering how she always steered clear of the spear station in training, I'm going to assume she'll choose the broadsword.
Quicker and lighter, but I've got reach.

I stifle a yawn.
Perhaps I might be able to muster a few hours of rest. Wouldn't want to die with dark bags under my eyes. The thought makes me snort. Speaking of facial issues- I root around in my hasty pile of Mags' gifts to find the medicine for my still incredibly itchy skin.
Another layer onto the ravaged tissue eases the itching to a manageable tingle- and cures me of the desire to claw the skin from my face much as my attacker did.

I wonder what she was talking about, by saving me. It's possible- it was just the ravings of a madwoman, but all her other words had hints of truth.
Like her being trapped.
Perhaps she wanted to help me escape? Perhaps she viewed killing me as saving me from the arena, the Capitol?
I guess I'll never really know.

I don't feel like attempting to climb another tree to sleep- Rowan and Jasper have had enough to laugh about tonight- so instead I just settle at the base of one.
Tulle's not going to come for me tonight. No, she and the Gamemakers will want a long, bloody showdown tomorrow.

Well, that's fine with me.
Eventually, I manage to drift into an uneasy sleep.

My dreams are more strange than terrible.
Corduroy and Robyn are holding my arms and whispering in my ears, something that feels important, but I can't hear enough to dispher what.
The pine seed that Rowan planted has started to grow, faster and faster and higher and higher, until it splinters the forcefield of the arena-
but it's not the arena, its an empty aquarium, and the water starts crashing in-
but I can't swim because Corduroy and Robyn don't let go-
And my lungs fill-

And I wake inches from death.

I gasp for breath, blinking up at the sky.
Morning. Last morning in the arena.
Last day.

One way or another, this will be the last day.

Chapter 29: Burning Red- Games Day 11

My breakfast the last day in the arena is hearty.

Mags clearly noticed how much I appreciated the sea-salt loaf, as she sends another, as well as some more dried fruit. It's a lot of food, but it doesn't really matter. Unless something goes incredibly wrong, I'll be eating in the Capitol tonight.
Or I'll be dead.
But either way, I'll have no need for sponsor money anymore. So I wolf down the entire thing of bread. And then I apply another layer of cream to my face.
Just like that, my hunger and itching is gone. I debate the idea of letting the Gamemakers drive me towards Tulle, maybe forcing her to come to me- but I can't sit still.

Genuinely. I am physically incapable of sitting my ass down and not moving. I just want this done and over with.

So I seize my Trident, toss my net over my shoulder, tuck knives into my waistband, and clumsily tie my spear to my back. I look ridiculous. But I doubt Tulle will care much. I set off for the Cornucopia jingling like a fucking Christmas ornament.

She's in the Cornucopia itself, sharpening a knife and muttering to herself.

Her bow is as her side, but judging by the fact that there's not currently an arrow sticking out of my forehead, she hasn't seen me yet. Lovely. I step out of the forest line, and Tulle's head shoots up. I brace myself to dodge an arrow, but she doesn't reach for her bow. She goes for the sword. Just like I knew she would.

"Odair." Her voice carries across the clearing. She wants everybody to hear this, clearly. But her voice falters, her eyes landing on the weapon in my hands. My Trident. She makes an effort to regain her composure for the cameras, but an ember of fear now flickers.

"Where'd you get that?" She tries for a casual tone, but it's erratic.

I shrug. "Sponsors."

Now it's shock. "You got that? From sponsors?" She's practically squeaking with indignation.
I nod. She laughs, clearly forced. "Some people have just wasted a whole fuck ton of money.”

My opponent is mere meters from me now, I force myself to focus on her instead of her words. No matter what she slings at me, I can't get mad. Even if she brings up-

"What happened to your last ally, huh? Did you finally grow a backbone and off her?"

Tulle's sword flashes.
And she charges.
Faster and stronger than anyone else I've faced, she's vicious and clearly quite skilled. The hilt of my weapon slams against her blade hard enough to make my teeth sing.
"Or did the Gamemakers grow tired of her?" She pants, angling the next strike towards my heart.
I block again, but it grazes against my chest, drawing blood. I ignore the sting, though it's deep enough to be a problem if I don't end this quickly. Tulle knows this, too, and she grins, feral and wild. "There I was getting all worried about beating you. But you're just a kid, aren't you?" She mocks.
A river of rage courses through me, and I strike back, slamming her sword away with the prongs of my trident, one of them digging into her arm in the process. Tulle hisses with pain, conceding a step back and wiping haphazardly at the wound with her free hand. Blood splatters across her jacket, but she doesn't look down.
"Just a kid, huh?" I challenge, lunging, and Tulle barely gets away in time, this strike scraping her side.
But she still smiles. "Just a kid."

Faster than I can track, a knife is in her hand.
I jerk my trident up to protect my neck, my head, my chest.
But it's no use.
A second later, the knife isn't in her hand anymore.
The full blade is buried in my thigh.
And
It
Burns

I scream my agony to the sky, trying valiantly to prevent my leg from buckling because oh god I'm going to die and why does it hurt SO MUCH.
Tulle laughs as I stagger back a few steps, her weapon still dug into my leg.
My thigh burns with pain, sharper and harsher than anything I've ever felt before.
My vision spots in front of me, and I fight unconsciousness. If I black out, I'm really dead.
Still, these thoughts travel through my mind as if they're wading through honey. Right now, the only thing I want is for this to stop hurting.

Her next strike is slow, almost mocking, but I just barely manage to block it with my trident. My thigh sings with pain with the simple movement, and I grit my teeth against yelling again. I'm going to die, but I won't give her the satisfaction of making me scream. Not more than once.
"Not. Fair." I choke out instead, narrowing my eyes. I'm still fighting for consciousness and oh god the world is spinning.

Tulle laughs harder- or I think she does. I can't really hear.
"Who said anything about fair, Four?" She slashes again, only slighter faster than her last blow.
My trident comes up slowly, sluggishly. The force of the blow almost knocks it from my hands. It could have, if she wanted it to.

She's playing with me, now. My life is in her hands.
She knows it.
I know it.
The audience knows it.

Oh, god. I hope Kelton isn't watching this. Just in case, I try not to look so pathetic.

Tulle's sword is coming down on me again, and I heft my trident in a defensive position. My wound doesn't like the movement, but frankly, it can deal with it for now.
Life over limb, as they say.
Oh, god, though, it hurts.
My vision turns blurry, and Tulle jams the butt of her sword into my stomach. I collapse, gasping for air. I'm really fucked now. Tulle looms over me, her smile victorius. I'm sorry, Jasper. Even my thoughts are dim. I'm sorry, Caprice. I'm sorry Rowan. I'm sorry Mom, Dad. I'm sorry, Kelton. I tried. I really-

The net rubs against my neck.
And suddenly, in my dim state...
I have an idea.
Not a great one. Not a good one. Not even an okay one.
But considering my current predicament?
It's going to have to do.

Weakly, I grasp for the net. Tulle is yapping about something or other, some sort of victory speech- I don't give a shit.

And then, I rally the last bit of my strength. Pull the trident to my side.

And strike.

Quick as an adder (Well, maybe a concussed one) I lurch forwards and throw the rope around her legs.

And pull.

In this state, I'm far too weak to pull her over.
But she stumbles.
She stumbles, and that's enough.

I seize the trident.

Throw.

And then I fall, the last of my strength drained.

BOOM.
Am I dead?

Maybe.

There's a pause. A long one.

I'm being lifted into a hovercraft.

But I can.... I can feel the claws digging into my back. My thigh is still pounding.

I'm alive. I'm alive but they think I'm dead and they're going to bury me and I won't be able to breathe-

I flail around frantically, trying to notify them that I am, indeed, alive.

I can vaguely hear the trumpets blaring, announcing a victor.

No. I want to scream, I want to tell them that I'm alive and that she isn't the victor.
Someone's voice is saying something.
I don't know what.

Everything is shaking and I can't move and I'm being pulled into the hovercraft and god does my leg hurt-

I black out.

I wake in the hovercraft.
I'm strapped to some sort of table, and a surge of panic flares when I try and fail to get up. I'm trapped. Is this what Robyn felt, in the arena? Because if so, I understand why she went insane. I would, too.
They've taken the courtesy of removing the knife from my thigh- but needles and things are going in to my body.
Why would they waste so much medicine and resources on a dead-

Wait.

I never stopped breathing.
The Capitol doctors are literally the best in the world. Sometimes, they re-attach people'es fucking limbs.
I'm pretty sure they'd be able to tell if I was alive.

Which means...
I'm the Victor.
My weak excuse for a Trident throw must have found Tulle's heart.

I'm the Victor.

I've won the Hunger Games.

Oh God.

Oh, God.

I've won the Hunger Games.

I begin to shake. All the guilt, all the fear that I've been repressing? It comes rushing back tenfold.
I gasp for breath.
Oh god oh god oh god oh god oh god.
"Vitals spiking." A calm voice from my right informs someone else.
I whip my head towards them.
It's a bored looking Capitol woman, clad in white doctors' scrubs splattered with what I'm going to assume is my blood.

"Let me out of this please-" I claw at the restraints.
"Sorry, Mr. Odair, it's for your own safety." She says, all too calmly for my liking.
"No- please. Please." I'm choking on the air, so desperate in my need to get out of here.
This time she just ignores me.

Eventually, I start to retch and all I can hear is Robyn's screams and Mason being torn apart and I can't do this.
"Help- help-" I moan, thrashing. Hot tears begin to pour from my eyes for the first time in days, mixing with mucus and saliva and blood.
"Please..." I sob, despair and panic coursing through me like a wave.

I need to get out I need to get out someone will come for me I don't have a weapon my tridents not here this isn't safe I made a promise-

The doctor's face is more annoyed than bored now. "We're going to need some sedative over here." She calls.

I shake my head, terrified.
"No- no, please, no- they'll come for me- They'll come for me-"

Again I'm ignored, a needle plunging into my arm-

"They'll come for me..." I breathe as my consciousness begins to fade-


And come for me, they do.


Corduroy and Robyn and Etta and Tulle and Jasper and Rowan and Caprice.
Not in the arena, but back at home. Home, where I'm safe.
Where the water is-
But it's not water, it's blood. Everything has been replaced with blood. Jasper's pine doesn't drip sap but blood.
Tulle's eyes begin to drip with it, smiling widely at me.
"Your fault." She begins to creep towards me, a Trident embedded in her stomach.
"All of this. Your fault."
The national anthem of Panem begins to play.
"Let the 65th Hunger Games begin!"
"No- no, it's over-"
Tulle's face reverts back to normal, and she's scowling at me, in the Training Center.
"What is wrong with you, Odair? The Games haven't even begun." She snaps.
Fear pulses through me.
No. No. No. No.
It's over, I remind myself. I'm safe. I'm safe.
Tulle's eyes begin to drip with blood again, but now she doesn't speak in her own voice but Robyn's-
"You need to let me save you, Finnick. Let me save you."
And she plunges my own Trident through my chest. Again and again and again.
Until my blood and hers and all the blood I've spilled form an ocean bigger than the real one.

Chapter 30: You Should See Me In a Crown

I wake in bed. Clothed.

Not a table, not strapped down.

I do not know where I am, only that I am alone- though I can hear hushed arguments from outside the room.
Not the stupid Capitol accent, but rather a quiet, stuttering voice- and a louder, harsh one. Both carry the unmistakable timbre of home.
Eventually there's some banging. A door slam.

And four people come into view.

Kourtney. Celestine. Callen. And Mags.

I shoot to my feet, ignoring the slight tremble in my legs. And I shoot towards my mentor, wrapping her in my arms.

"Mags." I sob, clutching on to her like she's my lifeline. Which, in a way, she is. A tie to home, to my family.
I should probably behave more cocky, as I'm sure this is being filmed. But right now, I can't bring myself to care.
Mags hugs back, running her hands through my hair.

"Finnick. Oh, darling. Hello. Hello." She breathes, pressing a kiss on my cheek.
I begin to cry, shaky, choking tears. She's several inches shorter than me, but still I bury my head into her shoulder, inhaling the salty scent of home.

Callen, too, approaches, but his teeth are bared. "Back off." He growls. I start at first, thinking he's talking to me, but the Victor is instead glaring at someone brandishing a camera.
When they do not, Callen pushes them backwards- so forcefully he falls to the ground.
The cameraman doesn't try him again.
"Thanks." I mutter, not releasing my grip on Mags.
Callen shrugs. "That'll teach him not to shove that lense in people's faces." He exclaims with no small amount of satisfaction.
Kortney, who has been lurking to the side, is going red in an attempt not to laugh. Celestine rolls her eyes, but makes no effort to help the man to his feet.
Mags musters a small smile as well, before turning back to me, her face solemn.
"How's the leg?" She murmurs, glancing down at the limb in question.
I shake it a little. "Good as new."
Mags scrutinizes it for a minute.
"And how are you doing?" She asks.
I think about that one for a second. How am I?

"I'll be fine." I lie.
Mags arches her eyebrows, but doesn't press the matter. Even after Callen took care of the cameraman, he still has ears.
As does Celestine, who is practically bouncing with excitement.
"You're the youngest victor- ever, you know."
I didn't, actually. I manage a small smile.
"You should be so, so excited for today, Finnick." She says with glee.
Dread settles in me as I realize why they're here. "Recap?" I guess, my voice glum.
Mags nods once.
Callen scowls.
Kortney grimances.
Celestine beams.
"Head off with Kortney, now." She orders.

My stylist drapes a warm arm over my shoulder and leads me off.
We seem to be in the basement of the Tribute Center, and I let Kortney lead me into an elevator. The elevator. The one that took us to Training, to the interviews. To everywhere.
I make a concentrated effort not to throw up.
Kortney takes me to the fourth floor, where my prep team, giddy with excitement, wait.
I'm then swept into the dining room, where I'm served a strictly portioned meal of lamb, rolls, and buttered carrots.
I barely get it all down, nausea rising again.
When I'm done, Goldilocks hums appreciatively.
"Full body polish, blemishes, scars- They went above and beyond." She nods again.

Then I'm showered and made pretty. Kortney helps me into navy pants, similar to the ones from interview night- but tighter, smoother on my legs. Loose, baggy, gold dress shirt (Pearls wins the particular button fight, leaving the top five undone) It's finished off by a golden chain around my neck, a trident dangling from the end.
Boots are on. Hair is fixed. Coos, titters, et cetera. "You look stunning, hun." Mermaid-Man gushes, painting something over my lips.
Goldilocks nods agreement.
"Ready?" She asks. Kortney and the prep team nod.
And we're off.
It's customary for the winning team to rise up from the stage- The prep team, the escort, the stylist, the mentor, and then finally the Victor themselves. Since Mags is, technically, my mentor, Callen will be in the stands. Which I'm sure is more than fine with him.

As the Victor, I'll be the last one up there, so I just inhale the unfortunately musty scent of under the stage and listen to raucous cheers as the prep team rises.
Whoops for Celestine, who I imagine is simply glowing in the admiration of the crowd.
Thunderous applause for Kortney, who truly did an awesome job on my outfits.
A combination of the three of them for Mags, who, as a Victor, has her own fair share of admirers.
And then the ground is moving and I'm fighting to keep my balance and I'm on the stage.

And the audience positively erupts.

I don't think I've ever heard something so loud. Whistling, whooping, cheering, full out sobs of joy- the reactions of the Capitol citizens are very enthusiastic.
I'm supposed to be sitting on the throne-like chair to my right in order to watch the Recap.
Three hours long, it's required viewing for all of Panem. Including me.
Oh god. I don't want to do this. I don't think I can.
I stumble over to the chair, collapsing on to it.
I can't do this I can't do this I can't do this I can't do this I can't do this.

But I'm being filmed and half a million people are watching me live and literally the entire world is watching me.
So I must.

Cramming a two week ordeal, from the Reapings to Training to the Interviews to the Games, to three hours is no easy task.

The first twenty five minutes ish are focused on the pre-game events.
It shows the Reaping in Four, and then the Tribute parade- I look radiant as a pirate, but the sight of a grinning Caprice at my side almost summons tears.
Two minutes in, and I'm already crying.
Joy.
Then it shows some clips from training- the ones where I'm throwing the tridents, mostly- and then my name flashes across with the score. Caesar, who is sitting a couple meters away from me, fans himself self consciously when he appears on the screen for my interview- since I'm the Victor, I get more than my fair share of screen time, airing almost my entire spiel with him, while the other tributes get only a few seconds each. Except for Jasper, who roasts the shit out of some Capitol woman in his, summoning laughter the first time and some chuckles now.
Not so funny now that he's dead, I suppose.

Then it takes the perspective of a tribute rising in the tube- judging by a flash of a blonde braid, it's Rowan- and from there, it flashes shots of tributes dying and shots of me.
Vera's death is played in full, and I bite my lip viciously to stop the tears.
The metallic taste of blood fills my mouth, but it's better than crying. Better than crying.
It shows Jasper fixing up Caprice next, much to the enjoyment of the audience. A couple scenes of all of us frolicking in the river, and then something I've never seen before- Jasper and Caprice leaning against the tree and murmuring in hushed voices.
"Until the end. And forever after that." He says, his drawl unusually serious.
The sound of his voice threatens more tears.
They kiss then, gentle and loving.
The audience erupts in "awwws" and whistles.

They dissolve into stunned silence when Jasper is killed.
I must not cry. I must not cry.
Caprice, Rowan, Corduroy, and then finally Etta's deaths are all shown fully, in quick succession.
I must not cry. I must NOT cry.

My fight with Robyn is highly edited, clearly- it leaves out her ramblings about saving me and focuses instead on us battling- the nails raking across my face look more like an offensive tactic then the works of a madwoman.
Though it might make me look good, it infuriates me that they refuse to show what they'd driven her to.

My fight with Tulle is next, mercifully telling me this is almost over. My eyes are vacant and my lip is raw from digging my teeth in in an effort not to spill any tears.
I look much cleverer- my falling to the ground and making her stumble look more a calculated plan than a last ditch attempt at life.
It ends with Claudius Templesmith announcing my victory.


President Snow rises, a little girl bearing a crown on a pillow at his side. I rise slowly to my feet, too, fighting a wobble. I'm not well. I'm not well at all. I distract myself by staring at Snow.
The crown is the excat color of my shirt, my necklace, and now that I think about it, my actual Trident, as well. The tyrant and the child approach me, and I force myself to meet snake-like eyes as he lifts the crown high.
It pleases me more than it should that I'm a good five inches taller than him, making him have to stretch to reach my head.
Some Victors kneel, or bow, or do whatever.
I'm perfectly content to stand here and let him struggle to crown me.

The heavy metal is painful on my skull, giving me a pounding headache and digging in at the same time.
"Congratulations, Finnick Odair, the Victor of the Sixty-Fifth Hunger Games!" He rasps.

The crowd goes wild again. I hold my head high, despite the sixty fucking pound weight on my head. More cheering.

And then the ground is sinking and my face is being washed and I'm in pyjamas and in bed.
I can't sleep. The urge to get up and stand guard is overwhelming. When I close my eyes, screams and blood flash in my vision.
When exhaustion takes me, dying children swarm in my dreams.
I wake up screaming three times before Mags comes running in, her aged face narrowed in sympathy.
"Hello. Hello. Finnick, love, are you okay?" She asks softly.
I shake my head frantically. "Nightmares." I moan.
Mags' eyes are impossibly sad. "I figured, darling. Well, it's okay. Here. Try this."
She flips a switch, and the sound of the ocean current washes through the room.
Some sort of white noise, I presume.

It sounds just like my house at home, where the waves in the background are a constant soundtrack,whether it be morning, noon , and night.
When sleep washes over me, the nightmares are still there.
But the sound of home dilutes them.

Chapter 31: Home, Salty Home.

My interview with Caesar the next morning goes by pretty quickly.
The host himself is kind and understanding, and though I can't say I'll ever grow to even tolerate him, considering his role in the games, I'm appreciative of how quickly he gets it over with.

In fact, I'm pretty sure the prep team spends more time doing my hair than Caesar does asking me questions.A relief, since I'm beginning to loathe the feel of silk against my skin, the sickly sweetness of the Capitol.

Mermaid-Man spends twenty minutes yelling at me because of the state of my lips- apparently I dug my teeth in a little bit too far.
Thankfully, I won't have to deal with him again after the interview- any questions involving Caprice, Jasper, Rowan or Etta (though there were only like four) will result in biting my bottom lip.
Crying on national television is a big no-no, I'm told. Murder's fine, though, of course.

"Last question, okay, Finnick?" Caesar is saying, leaning forwards. I direct my attention back to him and nod.
"Are you looking forward to returning to District Four?" He asks

Teeth.

"Yes, very much so." I respond carefully. I don't want to seem as if I'm shunning the Capitol, but saying no would just be a blatant lie.
"Anything in particular?" He presses.
"My friends and family and the ocean, mostly." I say.
Caesar beams. "Well, you'll be seeing them soon! Any last words for our audience, Finnick Odair?"
I force myself to smile. "Thank you all for supporting and sponsoring me. I'll see you all on the Victors tour!"
Caesar claps me on the back, and the broadcast fades to black.
"Nice job, son!" He crows, sitting up and running a tired hand across his face.
"Thanks." I mutter.
Caesar shoots me a wink. "See you on the Victory tour, then! I can hardly wait!"

I definitely could wait. But it's difficult to worry about these things, because soon enough, we're aboard the train, Mags and Callen and I, on our way back home.
No, the only thing I can worry about is the reactions of my family and Kelton.
Will they even want to see me? Or will they be so ashamed of my actions that they will avoid me at all costs?

Even though this trip will only take a few hours, there are bedrooms and buffets for the three of us.
Mags avoids all of these, though, heading straight to me.
I remove my teeth from where they are digging in to my lips
It's okay to cry around Mags.
"Hey, sweetheart." She says softly.
I give her a wavering smile.
"How are you doing?" She murmurs, looking out the window with me.
I shrug a little. "Worried about seeing everyone." I mumble.
Mags slings an arm around my shoulder. "Don't worry about it, darling. You know how they do interviews for the final eight?" She asks.
I nod once.
"Well, your mother, father, and Kelton all did one for you, and all they said was how proud they were of you and how badly they wanted you to come home." She says.
I'm not going to lie, I think I might have perked up like a happy sunflower. But dread pours over me again after a second.
"But that was before I killed Corduroy and Robyn and Etta and Tulle." I realize.
Mags reaches for my hand and squeezes it.
"You were just trying to live, sweetheart. I've killed people. Callen has." She breathes.
I let some tears fall.
"Not as many as me." I whisper.
Mags presses a kiss to my cheek. "Finnick, love, you're not the real murderer." Her voice is so quiet I can barely hear it, but it soothes me all the same.
She's right.
The real killer is the one who hides behind fancy suits.

Mags and I enjoy some food from the buffet, talking in hushed voices about Caprice and Jasper and Rowan and her District Partner and friend, Cove, that she lost in the Games, for the rest of the train ride.

As we roll into the station, Callen (who, shockingly, abstained from the beverage cart) cracks his knuckles.
Mags and I can barely contain our laughter as he eyes all the camera-men.
I'm liking him more and more.
Any expression of happiness fades away, however, when I see Caprice's casket.
I hadn't realized it would be on the train with us until I see it.
Simple and wooden, her name engraved on it.

Teeth. I unfurl my shoelace. Tie it.
I can't cry here in the station. Every camera is focused on me, as we slow to a stop.

Thoughts of Caprice leave my mind for a moment, however, when my gaze locks on to someone in the bustling crowd. Not a cameraman.

But rather a tan boy, about two inches shorter than me, with dark curls, freckles dotting his forehead and cheeks, and blemishes on his nose. Whose blue eyes are alight with relief and joy and sadness.

"Kelton." I breathe.

A stocky tan woman with a stern face but smile lines has an arm slung around his shoulder.

Mom.

Holding her hand is a skinny man with graying bronze hair and Sea green eyes.

Dad.

The doors to the train slowly, slowly slide open.
And suddenly them and I are the only four people in the world.
I'm sprinting towards them and them towards me and then-

I'm in their arms. Kelton grabs me so tight my face turns as blue as his eyes.
"Fin." He breathes, tears falling down his cheeks at an alarming rate.
"Kel." I choke out, beginning to cry as well.
Calloused fingers are stroking my cheek, and I turn slightly.
"Mom!" I sob.
My mother is beaming through her own tears, petting my cheek and my hair as if she needs to be sure that I'm here, I'm really with her.
A sturdy arm is around my shoulders now, tenting me in between the bodies of the three people I love the most.
"Dad." I gasp. He smiles softly.
"Hello, son." He whispers.
Those words... I never thought I'd hear them again. Didn't think I'd get back here alive, didn't think he'd ever call me his son again.
I pull both my parents into the hug.
"God, I missed you guys so much." I mumble into my father's chest.
Kelton lets out a watery laugh. "Oh, Fin, we missed you, too." He says, grabbing me tighter.
For some reason I find this hilarious, laughing so hard I can barely breathe. Kelton does, too, the two of us gasping for breath and clutching at our sides.
My mother shakes her head, giving us both an exasperated look. "You two." She says, affection pouring through her voice as she pinches my cheek.
Dad just laughs. "Are you guys ready to go home?" He asks.

Home.

"Yes." I breathe. "Let's go home."

 

Minutes later, I'm running towards the beach in my bathing suit, Kelton at my side.
We crash into the ocean simultaneously, and for a second, I'm frozen with fear. Like the arena, like my dreams, I'm drowning in blood, mud, and death.
But then I feel the gentle tug of the tide, taste the salt on my tongue, and I know I'm not there but here, trapped no longer.
I'm home.
The sea doesn't care about the Games, or who I've killed or what I've done. Neither does Kelton, my best friend and my brother, who is turning in a tight corkscrew.
I splash at him, and he surfaces, smoothly as any fish.
He beams when he sees me, joy apparent on all of his features as he tackles me.
I huff my outrage when we surface. "That was uncalled for." I pout.
Kelton grins. "Oh, excuse my rudeness. I just missed you, is all." His voice softens.
"I missed you, too."
Kelton eyes me.
"How are you?" He asks suddenly.
"I'm fine." I respond automatically.
Kelton scoffs. "No, you're not. Actually. How are you?"
I don't know. I consider for a second.
"Not- not well." I admit. "I mean... I killed four people." My voice cracks.
Kelton doesn't flinch, doesn't wince.
"You had to, Finn." He breathes.
"I know."
"Fin, you had to. And you're still you, you know that? You changed. But you're still you. You still care. That's not nothing, Fin. That matters."
My eyes sting. "Caprice. Rowan. Jasper." I breathe.
Kelton drapes an arm over my shoulder. "I'm so sorry, Fin." He murmurs. "Do you- do you want to talk about them?"
I stare out at the horizon. "Did- does Annie-" I can barely get the words out.
Kelton's expression crumbles. "She's- they're not doing well. But she wants to see you, I think. She's not angry with you."
I whirl to him, bewildered. "How is she not? Caprice died in my stead!" I'm practically shouting, but Kelton's eyes remain as serene as the ocean.
"That was her choice, Fin. You didn't shove her in front of you. I know it. You know it. Annie knows it."
I blink, taken aback.
"Thanks." I mutter.
Kelton smiles, gentler and kinder then I've ever seen on him.
It quickly turns to malice, however, when a second later he douses me with an enormous wave of water.
I retaliate quickly, giggling.

And for the first time in a while, I don't feel like a Victor, or a monster, or a murderer.
I feel like a kid again.
I feel like Finnick.

Chapter 32: The Same Boat

Kelton has unabashedly been sleeping on my bedroom floor the past few days, with nothing but a pillow and two blankets to keep him comfortable. Apparently, he's been sleeping here since I left for the Games.
Definitely a good thing- him and my parents could support each other, while I doubt Kelton's father would do anything but shrug.
I don't think he even knows my name.
Well, he does now. But not before.

It's 10 in the morning, and Kelton's still passed out on the floor. I'm used to getting up at the crack of dawn to guard or whatnot, so I've just been lounging in my bed for the past six hours.
Relaxing, but I'm itching to get up.

Which is why I practically spring to my feet when the doorbell rings dimly.
Kelton jerks awake, mumbling dimly. "Someone at the door-" He groans, looking up at me with a bad case of bedhead.
I shoot him a smirk. "Don't bother getting up, sleepy head." I say. Kelton lays back down, grumbling something about pufferfish that I'm sure has nothing to do with me.

My Mom and Dad are out on the beach, eating. I can see them out the window, feet in the waves.
I stumble to the door and fling it open, expecting mail or maybe someone coming about the feasts and banquets that I know happen after winning the Hunger Games.

Instead, it's Caprice at the door.
I freeze for a second, shock rushing through me.

How is she here she's dead I watched her die she died for me.

I blink once, twice, and Caprice just looks at me.
Then I realize that her cheekbones are sharper and she's shorter and slimmer.
Not Caprice, but Annie.

"Annie." I whisper. Her eyes water with tears.
"I- I'm so sorry. " I breathe. "I- I should have stopped her, or- or- I'm so, so, sorry." I choke on tears.
"You don't have to forgive me. I underst-"
Annie interrupts me by flinging herself into my arms. "Shut up, you stupid pufferfish." She mumbles, making no effort to stop her tears from pouring on to my shirt.
"You have nothing to be sorry for."
I gasp for breath. "Annie-" "You took her home, Fin. Home to me and home to the water. That's all I could ask." Annie continues, her voice firm despite tiny sobs.
A hint of a smile. "Besides, I got to sing with her again. Although your voice is nowhere near as good as mine."
"Although that's terribly offensive, I'm afraid it's also true."
Annie releases me from her grasp. "Can I come inside?" She asks.
"Oh. Oh- um. Yeah. Sure." I stutter, flushing maroon.
Annie smiles, and I can practically hear Jasper's laughter.
"Guess you and I are in the same boat, Odair." That sarcastic drawl of his trails through my mind.

I banish the thought and lead Annie to the kitchen, where my mother is fussing over a fish she caught and my father is eagerly mixing sea-salt loaf. Kelton, probably attracted by the smell of the bread, is sitting at the kitchen table.
His eyes widen when he sees Annie.

Her and Kelton and I spend the rest of the day in the sea, where we belong- laughing and crying and sharing stories. Kelton's face seems set in a smirk, and mine is red as a tomato.
Annie asks about Rowan, about Jasper, about Johanna. I tell her everything I can remember about my allies and their families, who might well have been Annie's sisters and brothers in law if not for the Hunger Games.
Annie and Kelton both listen thoughtfully, the latter cracking up when I describe Rowan's snarkier moments, admiration glowing on his face.
Annie smiles a little as I tell her about Jasper and Caprice.
"I knew she'd like him." She muses. "I saw him at the Tribute Parade and I just knew Caprice would be drooling all over him."
"It was mostly him drooling over her." I admit.
Annie laughs a little. "I hope they're happy." She whispers. "I hope they're happy and well."
Feeling brave, I reach out to grab her hand.
"They are." I squeeze it gently.
Annie looks up, a hint of a blush passing over her own cheeks.
She squeezes my hand back.

Chapter 33: Loons & Lies

Summary:

Takes place right before the Victory tour- about six months later

Every Victor has to have a talent, some sort of skill they work to perfect.
Annie laughs at me whenever I try to sing or dance, Kelton broke any sort of instrument that I tried, and arts and crafts were so blatantly not my thing even my mom starts cracking up.

But it turns out I'm quite the aspiring chef.

Kelton and Annie, two of the most common guests apart from my parents in my house in Victors Village, are hovering over my shoulder.
"Hurry up, Fin." Kelton whines, rubbing his stomach. "I'm starving."
Annie slaps him. "He's cooking. Be patient, you loon."
Kelton scowls. "Don't you call me a loon, Cresta-"
"Both of you,hush." I interrupt. "This isn't for you, anyway, Kel."
Kelton's jaw drops in mock outrage.
"Stupid fucking Victory tour." He curses, glaring feverently at the stir-fry he had been eyeing with admiration not a second before.
Annie rolls her eyes. "If you're good, maybe Chef Finnick will slip you a bite." She teases.
I arch a brow. "Chef Finnick needs every bit of this for the interviews and shit." I correct, stirring it a little.
Annie shrugs, her dark curls flouncing with her head. "Maybe while Fin's gone I'll make some."
Kelton wrinkles his nose, pretending to be sick. "I'm not making the mistake of eating YOUR cooking ever again."
Annie pouts. "It was one time!"
"Yeah, and I don't want to be up barfing all night again."
"I'm pretty sure you just had the flu."

"I'm pretty sure you poisoned me."

"Hush, now, or you'll break the egg yolk." I command.
Annie rolls her eyes again, but Kelton shuts his mouth, glancing at the egg in the pan.
It takes him a second to realize that Annie is turning red in an attempt to contain her laughter.
"That's not a thing, is it." He grouches.
Annie shakes her head gleefully.

 

Thirty minutes later, my prep team are hopping into the houses, tittering about everything from the smell in our District ("I'll reek of fish for days!) To my popularity and just how many people are going to be attending the party in the Capitol ("Everybody has been simply vying for an invitation, Finnick, dear!")
Annie and Kelton take one look at the peculiar group of individuals and make a beeline away, Kelton barely hiding a smirk of amusement when he beholds Mermaid Man's... unique appearance.
I know by now to just sit still and let the prep team make me pretty, poking and prodding and applying this and that.
Kortney, Celestine and Mags appear next, along with a bunch of Cameramen. (Who looks relieved that Callen has not made an appearance.)

Basically, I'm supposed to explain what I've made and with what and whatever for the Capitol audience. This is all filmed very quickly, since I don't have a script to memorize. I like Kortney, but she frowned, confused, when I mentioned paprika.
The next step is going out, being filmed live, on my way to the Train.
I'm sweating buckets in the outfit that Kortney put me in- long sleeves and pants- but when I whine about it, she simply tells me I'll be grateful when we arrive in District Twelve.

Kortney is just making the final adjustments to my outfit, fixing my hair and scrutinizing the makeup job done by the prep team.
She whistles. "You got so tan." She notices.
I shoot her a smile. "Yeah, I've been spending most of my time at the beach with Annie and Kel."
Kortney hums. "Are you ready for this?" She suddenly asks.
I frown. "I mean, I think so. Obviously it's not going to be fun. But it's been a couple of months."
Lie, Lie, Lie. It's been a couple of months, but still I can not sleep without being haunted by corpses and mutts and death. Sometimes Kelton or Annie will sleep over, and that will offer me a morsel of comfort- but they still have to go to school, and neither Kelton's parents nor the Crestas want their kids having sleepovers every night.
My stylist seems to buy, it though, as she simply nods, checking her watch.
"Shit." She swears under her breath, surveying me one last time. "We're live in thirty seconds."

Half the Cameramen have peeled off with my dish, presumably going to take photos of it and shit. The other half cluster around me, both inside the house and outside.
Celestine and Mags, who had, before, been looming to the side and letting Kortney and the Prep Team work their magic, now draw even with the Stylist and I.
"Big smiles." Celestine hisses.
I gulp, suddenly nervous, and turn to Mags.
She smiles softly. "You've got this, Fin." She tells me in that trembling voice of hers. "You can do this, I know it."
I steel my shoulders.
Kortney begins to count down.
"Five, four, three, two- Go."

I step out, giving the Cameramen a little half smile. The cocky, arrogant Victor of the 65th Hunger Games is no boy. He does not spend his nights in tears and his days barely holding himself together.
Caesar Flickerman's voice echoes through speakers.
"There's Finnick Odair now! Hello, Finnick!"
I smile a little bit wider. Despite his role in this shit-show, Caesar's smiles are contagious. I suppose that what he's for- to make everyone forget what's actually happening here.
I wave to the cameras. "Hello!" I say, trying to sound as cheerful as possible.
Clearly, it works, as Caesar's mouth, stretches into an almost grotesquely wide smile.
"We're all so happy to see you, aren't we folks?"
There's uproar, so loud I almost want to cover my ears- and I'm not even there.
Caesar doesn't even flinch.
"Well, it certainly sounds like it, doesn't it! Finnick, how have things been in District Four?"

Well, Caesar, I've been having nightmares every night, can't sleep without my best friend or - or whatever Annie is to me, and sometimes space out randomly because I forget I'm not in the Games anymore.

"Oh, great!" I exclaim, gesturing back towards my house.
"I've been cooking and swimming and fishing with my friends. I'm super excited to see you all in a week or so, though!"

Actually, I dread seeing them. I'd rather impale myself upon my own Trident.
Unfortunately, that is not an option.
More applause from the audience.
"Well's all for tonight, folks. We'll be seeing more of our youngest Victor ever tomorrow in District Twelve!"


I don't sleep on the train, because Kelton nor Annie are allowed to accompany me.
Both of them wished me a safe, speedy trip, but even when Kelton released a truly vulgar string of words that would have gotten him suspended for weeks, Celestine put her foot down.
So I'm lying alone in my bed on the train as we zoom towards District 12.

The Victors Tour goes from District 12 to District 1 and then the Capitol, skipping the Victor's home District, and saving it for the end. The idea, I think, is that the parties get more and more extravagant and spectacular as we go- but I'm not worried about the banquet sizes or the color of the confetti. No, the District I'm most worried about, we'll be visiting in about five to six days.
My fingers go automatically to the spring of pine around my neck.
It's still as perfect as it ever was, as I used some sort of District Seven sap-thing to preserve it. It was ten times the cost of a simpler, cheaper, Capitol alternative, but somehow I felt better protecting it with something that came from Jasper's home.
How will I be able to look his sister in the eyes and give her this? Knowing that I am here only because her brother is dead, because he is- or, he was, a better person than I?
Only the promise that I made those months ago keeps me going.

I wonder how long it takes to get to the coal mining district. Etta and Levi's home.
The Capitol's provided a speech that I'm to say for each, but it's considered proper to add something if you had special allies or friends among the tributes.
I'd never really met Levi, and I killed Etta, but even so, I think I'm going to make an effort to add something personal for each district, even if I didn't know them.
I've got nothing else to do. It's not like I'm going to be able to fall asleep.

So I begin to write.

Chapter 34: Like Brother, Like Sister

Summary:

Buckle up bitches shit's about to get sad

District Twelve is very, very cold.
I am infinitely grateful for Kortney's clothing choices, but looking at the citizens, I wonder how they're managing.
Stick thin, most of them in miners clothing, covered in coal dust.

Emaciated, sunken faces stare up at me.

I ramble through the Capitol Speech, sensing they don't want to deal with this for longer than they have to.
Etta and Levi's families are placed on platforms at the bottom of the stage, and I force myself to make eye contact with each of them.
I speak simply of their bravery and their courage at such a young age, and my apology for their losses.

Then we have a banquet- I convince Celestine to let Etta and Levi's families come- and we're back on the train heading for eleven.

The next few days are a whirlwind of activity- of speeches and banquets and tears.

In Eleven, Robyn's family looks at me with sympathy, while Tein's just glare.

In Ten, I almost start to cry. Wess' mother is crying as much as she did at the reaping, almost falling to the ground without anyone to support her. It takes a lot of energy for me not to go down and hold her up.
Tansley's family, on the other hand, glare like Tein's- but not at me. They, like their daughter, direct all their anger towards the Peacekeepers.

Willa's family in Nine are short and slight as her, three pairs of eyes scrutinizing me with gazes that are filled with intelligence. They don't cry, they simply stare, though they clutch each other's hands with white knuckles as I speak about their daughter.
Reid, who I learned in the Recap fell victim to poison, has no one on his platform- but still I speak about the resilience in lasting as long as he did. I ask Mags about it later, and apparently sickness spread like wildfire through District Nine- his parents and little sister had been killed a couple years before.

District Eight is particularly hard, because I let Tein kill both of their tributes, Maris and Alden, in favor of going to protect Jasper and Rowan. But Maris' family, all as tall and elegant as willows, hold my eye contact without wavering, dressed in brightly colored pants and tunics that look similar to her outfit in the reaping.
Alden's sole family is a little boy standing on his platform, and he keeps glancing up at the picture of his brother, confusion and fear in those big dark eyes. Pain tears through me like claws, and I desperately wish I could do something to help him.

But I cannot.


After dinner and a little party in Eight, which again was attended by the families, Celestine is dragging me back to the Train. She's insistent we keep a consistent schedule, and being two minutes late onto the train means we'll be two minutes late to... to District Seven.
I don't know if I can do this.

I'm tossing and turning, images of my dead allies flashing through my brain.
Jasper laughing. Jasper with the knife in his chest. Rowan dousing both of us with water. The fireball that killed her.
I clutch the spring of pine tightly to my own chest, trying to calm my breathing. Inhale, two three, exhale, two three. Just like Mags taught me.

I'm okay. I'm safe. I'll be home soon. I chant the reminders to myself, trying to drive Jasper's dying breaths out of my brain and - this is not helping. I give up on sleep, and instead clutch at the wrinkled paper where I was attempting to write a speech about the Tributes from Seven.
The Capitol's, preaching about Victors and Vanquished and how their sacrifice was noble makes me want to drive a Trident through my chest.
I have zero intention of saying even one word of it.
Celestine might freak out, but Jasper and Rowan are worth it. Johanna's worth it.

Johanna Mason. I'll see her tomorrow- or, today, I suppose, since the clock reads 2:00 AM. And Ronan, too. The thought makes me violently nauseous, and I barely make it to a trash can before my stomach empties itself of some sort of stew that we had in Eight.
I lean back, panting.
The Prep Team is going to have to use about a pound of makeup to cover the dark circles that I'm sure will make an appearance.
Not that my appearance is something I'm worried about. At this point, not vomiting on stage is going to be my biggest problem.
My ensemble for District Seven is simple yet elegant. It's a very dark shade of green, almost black. Which, I suppose, is fitting, considering this is the closest thing to a funeral that I'll be able to attend for my fallen allies.
The color sets off the necklace against my throat, making it painfully visible to anyone watching.
Well, that's fine with me, just so long as they know that I will be giving it directly to Johanna Mason.
Poseidon himself could rise from the depths and I'd sell my soul to him before I'd give him Jasper's necklace.
Mags, who hasn't taken her eyes off me once all morning, is trying to get me to eat.
I refuse her offers.
Anything in my stomach will just come right back out.

My heart seems to skip at least three beats as the train slows, pulling up to a station that doesn't look to be in great condition. It's pretty much just a plank of wood.
But surrounding it are more trees that I've ever seen in my life- Pines, rowans, ashes, maples and more that I don't know the name to.
I step out of the vehicle, and simply inhale, letting my eyes rove over my surroundings.
Everything about the forests are strong and wild and beautiful.
Even if I did not know that Jasper and Rowan came from here, I think I would have guessed.

We're escorted to their Justice Building, a impressive structure made of wood (most everything, including the houses we passed seem to be made from lumber here) where we- Mags and Celestine and I- wait backstage until the anthem rings, our cue to step on.
My steps are weak and slow, and when I push the curtain aside, I can barely feel my hand as I shake the mayor's, barely hear his voice as he begins a speech in my honor.

My gaze is locked on Johanna Mason.
She's short and lithe, with dark spiky hair and an axe tied loosely to her belt. Perhaps not the best decision to let her bring a weapon- she's fixed the Peacekeepers and mayor with a gaze so murderous I'm surprised they don't just combust with the force of her rage.
Oh, she's definitely related to Jasper.
Flanking her are two people that I'm going to assume are her parents- solemn, quiet, just staring at the speaking Mayor. A tear trickles down the woman's face.

A choked sob from the other side of the stage jerks my attention to Rowan's platform. A boy, no older than eight, is trying desperately to muffle his cries.
Ronan, no doubt- his eyes are the exact same as Rowan's, down to their wide set and caramel hue. My stomach heaves.
Ronan must notice my stare, as those eyes that are Rowan's, too, meet my own. He blinks once, twice. Gives me a watery little smile.
How does he not hate me? He is too young, perhaps, to truly understand, but surely he gets the basics. I am here because Rowan is dead.
But still he smiles. Full of grief, and loss, but gratitude, pure and simple, is apparent in Rowan's little brother.
My gaze travels back to Johanna, who now stares at me, too. Not with the anger with which she pins the officials with, but rather anticipation.
I dip my head slightly, causing Jasper's token around my neck to dance.
Johanna's eyes travel there, and they swim with tears.
She doesn't let them fall, though, the brown of her eyes locked on the last bit of her brother.
I'm so engrossed in Johanna and Ronan, the Masons and the Fairtides, that I initially don't notice that the mayor of Seven has stopped speaking. My cue to begin.
I jerk to attention, clearing my throat. I don't bother reaching for the cue cards that Celestine has provided for me, filled with prompts to remind me of the carefully written, safe, Capitol approved speech.
Instead, I make myself meet Johanna's eyes again.

"I only had the chance to know Jasper Mason and Rowan Fairtide for about two weeks. But in those days, I met two of the best people I've ever known."
I turn to Ronan, to his parents. A stoic man with dirty blonde hair and deep brown eyes, and a morose woman with dark curls and caramel eyes that matched both Ronan and Rowan's.
"Rowan was a ray of light in the darkness that was the arena. She was clever and quick, and would have been an asset to anything she put her mind to. She wouldn't have had it any other way- Rowan excelled at everything, whether it be diving or climbing. Her determination was like fuel, not just to her, but also to me, to Jasper, to Caprice. She was also the happiest person I've ever had the privilege of knowing. Despite our situation, she always found a way to bring a smile to her own face, and then to ours, as well. Her burning joy and her fierce spirit made the days in the arena liveable. She gave me hope where there was none, made the best out of the worst. She didn't deserve what happened to her, and I am truly sorry that I wasn't able to protect her."

I choke on a sob, but turn to the Masons and force myself to continue.
"Jasper was one of the smartest and most resourceful people I've ever met. Without his knowledge and generosity, Caprice- and then, by extension, me, would have died. I have no doubt he would have become an outstanding medic. Even though we truly only got to know him for a few days, he made a lasting impression on not only my life, but also Caprice's.
I'll always remember his fierce loyalty and determination, his quick wit and honesty. I'll always remember how happy he and Caprice made each other. And I'll always remember how much he cherished his family: How he cherished Rowan."
My eyes are swimming with tears, and my voice cracks as I continue.
"He died as he lived, protecting those he loved."

Carefully, carefully, I undo the rough clasp on Jasper's necklace. I walk to the end of the stage. And I offer it to Johanna.

Murderous rage is replaced by grief, terrible grief. Johanna Mason loved her brother just as much as he loved her. She accepts it with wavering hands, bringing it carefully to her nose and inhaling.
I know the scent that courses through her nose all too well- Pine, the slightest hint of blood.
Tears pour down her face as Johanna presses the token to her heart, her wide set brown eyes traveling up to mine.
"Thank you." She mouths, clutching the pine like it's a lifeline.
I bow my head, the only acknowledgment I think I'm able to give that isn't bursting into violent tears and throwing myself into Johanna's arms.
I allow myself to stare at her for only a moment longer, before turning and walking back to the microphone.

"The tributes of District Seven were not just my allies, but my friends. Had it not been for them, I would not be here today. Rowan and Jasper were excellent people, and their loss will be deeply felt."
I force myself to make eye contact with each pair of brown eyes on both platforms.
Caramel and deep brown meet Sea green, and, empowered by their stares, I say the rest loudly, forcefully.
"Your children's sacrifice will not be forgotten." I vow.

I admit that I'm toeing the line here. Dead tributes are meant to be forgotten, nameless faces who pay the price of our uprising. Only family are really supposed to remember them, while the Capitol, the other Districts, even their own District pretend as if they never existed.
So yeah, my words are borderline treasonous. But I'm saying it all the same. For Jasper, who would have said worse if he had lived, and for Rowan, who would have been right at his side.

And then Johanna smiles.
Grins, even, as if she knows exactly what I mean. As if she knows exactly what Jasper whispered to me in the arena.
She grins. She makes sure I'm looking directly at her. And Johanna Mason nods.

It's quiet for a second. They are supposed to clap. It seems Jasper's words about District Seven being strong-willed were true.
After a few moments of silence, so quiet you could hear a pin drop, a Peacemaker aims his gun at Johanna. A warning, as silent as the crowd. Of what will happen if they do not obey.
I gasp out loud, terror running through me. I will put myself in between Jasper's sister and the bullet if needed.
Thankfully, the crowd seems to feel much the same, breaking into thunderous applause.
Not quite surrendering. More accepting. Not right now.

Not yet.

Chapter 35: The Worst Dancer (Ever)

Summary:

It's going downhill from here I'm afraid

District Seven's food is delicious.

Unfortunately, it doesn't stay in my stomach for long.

We're back on the train, and I'm on the ground, shaking.
I can't keep anything in my stomach. It all just comes back up.
It's not nerves. More like guilt. Regret. Self loathing.

District Six is next. Juno and Mason.

Who I watched die, who I didn't try to save. Not for the first time, I wonder if I'll be able to do this.


I do it.
Barely.
Mason's fluffy little dog jumps on the stage and trots up to me, tail wagging. I pet him, of course, because I'm not a barbarian, and he decides to just sit on my feet for the rest of the event.
I don't think I'd have been able to speak if it hadn't been for the dog.

Apart from the dog, Mason doesn't have anyone on his platform. Juno, on the other hand, does- an older woman that'd I guess was either her grandmother or aunt, and a young boy that keeps his head buried in the older woman's skirts.
The woman's eyes are locked on the dog, and they trail slowly to my face.
Longing and grief and pain.

I falter on my words for a second, but force myself to continue speaking.


This happens again in Five, when a boy that looks just like Milo cocks his head to the side almost challengingly. A brother, maybe a twin. His hands are fisted at his sides, and he practically radiates anger- at me, at the Peacemakers, even at Nessa's sobbing father.
But not at the girl beside him, whose eyes keep flickering towards the ring on her hand.
This must be Milo's girlfriend, the one who gave him his token.


We skip four, since it's home, and instead go straight to three.
Flick's got four younger siblings, all glasses wearing and solemn faced, just like him.
Reema's platform is empty.
I speak about intelligence, about courage. I'm applauded, stuffed with stews and curries and breads, and then we're heading towards District Two.

I don't sleep, as per usual. After all, we are going to Vera's home. I reach insitvely for the pine token around my neck, but it's not there- I've given it back to Johanna, where it belongs. Though it's absence almost hurts me, I'm calmed by the fact that it's safely with its owner.
So I go for my pocket instead, pulling out a small, roughly made metal heart that was Vera's token.
That Rowan and I risked death to find.

For Blaire.

You might expect a girl from District Two to go into a fit of rage at the sight of me. Or at the very least murder the Peacekeepers with her eyes, like Johanna. But Blaire, standing on her platform the next day, truly does seem to have been born in the wrong District. She isn't short with straight black hair like her older sister, but rather tan and brunette with tight curls. She looks like Caprice, actually.
She doesn't behave like she belongs in a Career District either- Silent tears pour down her youthful, chubby cheeks as I begin to speak.

"Vera was selfless, kind, and brave even in the worst of situations. She chose to save our lives, even at the expense of her own. Without her bravery, I wouldn't be here today. All she asked for her sacrifice was that I return her token to her beloved sister, and its maker."
My voice is clear enough as I approach the girl, dropping the little metal heart into her cupped palms.
Two people who I assume are her parents just roll their eyes, looking at me almost amusedly. I wonder what that's about. Perhaps they view Vera's kindness, her goodness, as an act of weakness? I rip my gaze from them, barely able to contain my disgust, my anger.
Blaire, on the other hand, meets my gaze and gives a watery little smile. "Thanks." She whispers.
I smile weakly in return and head back to the microphone.

On the ride to our third-last destination, District One, I dimly notice the lack of wildlife. Lots and lots of houses and buildings, what looks to be a gladiators arena, a running track- but no trees. No lakes, no rivers- just a couple of patches of scrubby grass.
Truly no way for Blaire, who, according to her sister, loves the water as I do, to swim.

I'm almost sick at the thought of it. The idea of living somewhere like here, without access to the ocean, to the beach? I don't think I'd survive. Blaire is stronger than me.

District One is in charge of luxury. That much is obvious as we pull into their train station- contrary to the lone piece of lumber in District Seven, or the lumpy metal platform in Twelve, their station is complete with a television and air conditioning. Even Two didn't have that.
I can see myself in the television screen- I look a lot more attractive than I feel.
I personally killed both of the tributes from One.
Mags throws a arm around my shoulder pulling me to her.
"It's okay. You're going to be okay, alright?"
I nod subtly and Mags releases me, giving my hand a sympathetic squeeze.

I'm getting glared at from every direction. It's an effort not to start crying. I keep my voice strong, focusing on the only two faces in the crowd that don't radiate rage.
Gloss and Cashmere, a sibling pair that won the last two Games in a row.
17 year old Gloss and 16 year old Cashmere, the victors of the 63 and 64th games respectively, just look almost desperate. Sad, even.
Shocking, considering how brutal the two of them were in their consecutive games. Also considering the fact that I killed both of their Tributes. So I just look at them, use them them to keep myself steady and calm. If either of them find it strange, they don't let on, clapping weakly when it's over and then disappearing into the crowd like twin wraiths.

I ask Mags about it in the Train on the way to the Capitol. Her face shuts down, looking grim, but she takes one look at the Cameramen and simply says "I think they were close with Tulle and Corduroy."
Clearly this is a lie, but judging by how serious Mags looks, I'm not going to press the issue. I'll ask about it when we get back home.


The party in the Capitol is usually disgustingly lavish. It takes place in Snow's mansion, with the president himself typically making an appearance at some point.
Because it's in the Capitol, I'm dressed to the nines, wearing a tux with patterns similar to the one I wore on interview night.
The Prep Team spends four hours, well, prepping, and I can barely feel my face through all the makeup.
When I ask Kortney about it, she simply shrugs. "Snow said to make sure you looked perfect." I arch a brow at her, but don't pester her about it. What Snow says, Snow gets. Perhaps he's trying to make up for his own ugliness by making me extra pretty.

Because my makeup took so long, I don't have much time to just relax on the train- which is just fine with me, seeing as relaxing is essentially now a synonym with freaking the fuck out.
I have to say, stuffing my mouth with Capitol shit and making small talk seemed then a lot less stressful then talking to the families of people I've killed.
Or so I thought, anyway.

As soon as we arrive at the Mansion, I make a beeline for the food. Unfortunately, the several thousand attendees of the party are clearly less enthusiastic about the delicacies than I.
Celestine has introduced me to about seventy people at this point, all of whom claim to have sponsored me in the Games.
"I'm Selene Ravelle!" One such person titters.
I ponder the idea of simply ignoring her, but Celestine hits me hard in the ribs, and so instead I shoot her a roguish smile, pressing a kiss to her hand.
"Nice to meet you, gorgeous." I drawl.
Selene flushees crimson. I rein in my disgust. Fine, I was being flirtatious, as Celestine and Kortney instructed: But does she know I'm fourteen? I look at Celestine, who just rolls her eyes a little.
Selene notices none of this, simply cooing "Oh, I'm just so glad that my gifts were beneficial to you in the arena, Finnick darling!"
And I'm so happy Celestine is here to stop me from punching this woman.
I force myself to keep smiling, though.
"Oh, thanks so much, Miss." I respond.
Celestine nudges me. "Selene donated most of the money for your Trident, Finnick." She says serenely. I make a mental note to thank Celestine, because it's possible she just saved me from a very embarrassing interaction.
"Of course, of course. Your generosity is unmatched, Miss Ravelle." I say, because it really is and I would most likely be dead right now if not for this ditzy Capitol woman.
I'm not quite sure why she spent probably around half a million dollars on such an expensive gift, but you shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth, as they say. (Or, at least, I think they do. We don't really have many horses in four apart from the sea variety- Which aren't really horses, by the way- they're actually fish. Unlike Jellyfish and Starfish. Stupid, right?)

"Oh, please, call me Selene." She giggles.

That interaction happens with three different people before I'm saved by President Snow's annoying ass voice. A speech in my honor, I think- I don't care enough to pay attention. I use this time to stuff myself with the food that's been taunting me all night.
And then he's done and I'm practically being passed around the dance floor. It's a good thing my mother always used to make me waltz with her, because otherwise I would be fucked.

I cycle between dancing and stuffing myself and chatting with the sponsors and blushing women and men alike.

Finally, at what must be at least one in the morning, Mags puts her foot down and nearly drags me from the arms of one Florizel Pompaday, a man in his fifties who is dyed a pale, slightly repulsive shade of orange. Apart from his scarlet cheeks, he looks like a massive clementine. "Thanks, Mags." I mumble, practically falling asleep on her shoulder.
Mags hmphs. "Children need at least eight hours of sleep per night." She informs me, shooting Florizel a dirty look and stumbling a little under my weight. I try my best to move off of her, but Callen appears and rolls his eyes.
"Come here, kid." He grunts.
I'm too tired to be shocked at the sudden kindness of the Victor.

I suppose it's kind of a miracle that I've been dancing for hours- I actually fall asleep, for once.
And I don't even dream.

I blink awake to the smell of salt and the sound of the waves.
Home, for the last leg of the tour.
Home, where there will be only one platform. For Annie and the Crestas.
I shoot to my feet, looking out the window.
"Mags!" I yell, terrified. I'm still in last night's outfit and I've got some sort of makeup smudged all over my face.
I hear the thundering of feet.
"You alright, darling?"
"We're going to be late!" I yell, frantic.
Mags looks at her watch. "We're fine, don't worry. It's only six in the morning."
I exhale. "Oh, thank God. Sorry."
Mags looks at me closer. "Did you actually fall asleep last night?"
I frown. "Yes."
Mags practically beams. "Go back to bed. I'm going to hold the prep team off for as long as I possibly can
.
Knowing Mags, that would be several hours. Hell hath no fury like a mentor scorned.

I settle back onto the pillows, and I do fall asleep again- though this time I'm haunted by dreams. Of Caprice.
She's on a beach, sitting in the sand and dangling into the waves. "To the end. And forever after." She says, her hand clutched in a bigger callused one.
Jasper. The dream appears blurry, somehow, like an old video. Caprice just laughs, her dark hair blowing in the wind.
She then seems to notice that I'm watching, turning joyful green eyes towards me.
"Oh, hi Fin!" She says, her voice slightly muffled.
"Caprice-" My voice cracks as I stare at her, my heart rising in my throat. "Caprice, I'm so sorry, I-"
Her face softens. "You have nothing to be sorry for, Fin. Tell Annie I love her!" She calls.
"Caprice, I-"
"Bye, Fin!"

I jerk awake.

The first time in months that my dreams have been anything but terrible. Perhaps the universe understood that I needed a fucking break.
The prep team descends upon me like a pack of vultures, but I manage to ignore them, Caprice's laughs echoing through my brain.
She's happy.
She's home.

Because everyone here actually knows what I look like, the team don't bother with excessive cosmetics- though Mermaid Man does bemoan the state of my hair.
Bed head is a bitch, I tell him.
He doesn't seem amused, nor do I think he understands.

When I'm adaquetly primped and escorted directly to the stage, Annie smiles up from the platform, her brown hair curled and pulled back prettily.
She doesn't cry- the two of us did enough of that at Caprice's funeral. Instead, she makes faces at the mayor as he gives an excessively pompous speech, lathering me with praise and compliments.
Kelton, who I spot within the crowd, has a hand clamped over his mouth to keep from snickering aloud.
His father is scowling at him, dressed impeccably in a suit which probably cost more than my old house.
Finally, after I'm nearly as red as Florizel Pompaday, he shuts up, and I launch into a short spiel about Caprice.
I already spoke once at her funeral, but I speak in a simple, winning fashion about her kindness and her bravery, how she became almost a sister to me in the arena.
Annie grins when I mention Jasper, making a kissy face at me that for some reason makes me blush.
Weird, right?

Next, I watch with amusement as Solomon Tidra's little sister, Solene, jumps on stage and presents me with a bushel of flowers, giving me a gap-toothed grin as she extends them upwards.
I smile at her offering, taking it with one hand and ruffling her hair with the other.
"Fin!" She whines, scuttling back a few steps. "You're going to ruin my hair!"
I laugh. "Sorry, Sol."
Solene smiles again. "Don't worry. It hurt my head anyway. Mom did it too tight. " She whispers, glancing at her laughing mother who waits at the other side of the stage.
I chuckle and give her a wink. "Run along now, Sol. If you're nice, maybe I'll give Kel something for you next week." I instruct.
Much to his father's disapproval, Kelton loves nothing more than to take care of kids. He watches Solene twice a week for her parents, and sometimes Annie (Who Solene adores) and I (Who Solene adores tackling into the sea) tag along.
Solene nods excitedly, turning and skipping off the stage and throwing herself into her mother's arms.
"Thanks, Fin." Ms. Tidra mouths, pressing a kiss to the crown of her daughter's head.
I beam.

Unlike the Capitol, where they served mostly horse and lamb and extravagant foods that I've never even heard of, the banquet at home is laden with seafood- Sushi, Seafood Paella, Lemon and Poppyseed Salmon, Oysters, Clams, and Shrimp Skewers.

Kelton and Annie find me, the three of us tearing into the feast with gusto.
Annie's eyes bulge. "I think there's caviar in these." She says, voice muffled by a sushi roll that she's stuffed in her mouth.
Kelton's own eyes widen and he seizes one for himself. "Shit, really?"
A yell of excitement confirms it. "Yo, Annie, I bet I can fit four of them in my mouth at the same time." He grabs another.
Annie rolls her eyes. "Save some for everybody else. God knows there are people who need them more than you, Rich boy."
She smiles as two skinny little girls skip up to the table and snatch the last two rolls.
Annie makes a knowing face at Kelton, but passes him a fruit skewer in consolation, sinking her teeth into one of her own.
Kelton sighs, morosely biting into a strawberry. "Fair."

He brightens when music begins to blare.
"Solene!" He yells, beckoning for her to come over. "Dance with me!"
Solene laughs, obliging and grabbing Kelton's hands. She barely reaches his hip, but she's definitely leading- beginning to run around in circles and giving my friend no choice but to follow.
Annie giggles.
"Want to dance, Fin?"

My brain short circuits.
"Oh. Um. Dance. Um- um. Dancing. Yes. I dance-" I stutter, my face going as red as an ocean buoy.
What is wrong with me? I'm a pufferfish for the audience, in front of the entire world. But Annie is getting me so flustered I can barely string a sentence together?
She just smiles. "I'll take that as a yes. Come on."

She grabs my hand and pulls me onto the floor.

Kelton's eyebrows shoot up when he sees me, removing one hand from Solene's iron grip and showing me a subtle thumbs up.

After several songs, Annie has stepped on my feet about twelve times. In fact, she makes Kelton and Solene's spinning circle look graceful. But this is a thousand times better than last night in the Capitol.
I wouldn't trade her- wouldn't trade this moment- for a thousand Capitol women.
"Fin?" She murmurs. The music has quieted, the sky going dark and the waves lapping at the shore.
I turn my attention to her. "Yeah?"

But she doesn't respond, just cups my face in her hands.

And presses her lips to mine.

If my brain was short-circuiting before, it's positively broken now. About two seconds in, I remember to breathe, running my hand through those gorgeous brown curls and pulling her closer to me

She tastes of sea-salt and pineapples and strawberries and home .

She's perfectly, uniquely her.

Perfectly, uniquely Annie.

I'm yours, Annie. The realization hits me suddenly, and I am adamant that she knows. So I tell her this silently, stroking her cheek with my free hand and pulling her even closer.
I'm yours. Perfectly, uniquely yours.
We stand, locked in the embrace, for a few moments more, the waves, laughter, and music in the background.

"Fin." She breathes, finally pulling away just a fraction so she can look into my eyes.
"Yeah." I respond, surveying her, frantically, desperately trying to make sure she doesn't regret it, that I haven't done something wrong.
But Annie smiles, her beautiful ocean eyes shining with joy. "I'm so glad you're home."
I press my forehead against hers, giving her a smile of my own.

"I'm so glad to be back."

Chapter 36: Sandy Castles and Snowy Chains

Summary:

Heavy topic here.
Trigger warning- mentions of rape, mentions of sexual slavery, forced prostitution
This chapter is going to be tough. If you need to skip it, I'll put a summary at the end.

I am officially sixteen. Old enough to drive the motorboat, finally.
Technically, I don't think it's old enough to drink- but that is perfectly fine with me, I don't want to become another Callen.

Though I suppose that's not really fair. Him and Mags were both mentors in the 66th games: I begged not to have to go, promising I'd mentor this coming year- and to my relief, the older victors agreed, though apparently my many admirers in the Capitol did not.
Anyway, I guess I'd get shitfaced, too, if the Tribute I was mentoring came second place.
Poor Callen.

He's not drunk today, though, instead choosing to sulk in the sand and devour dozens of sushi rolls. Kelton's father had been standing with him, but after Callen had "accidentally" spilt an entire pitcher of punch onto him, he made himself scarce.
He may not be the nicest person, but he's good to have around.

Call me immature, but yes, I'm having a birthday party.
It's not an extravagant affair- we just pretty much invited the whole District to pop by if they want, to swim and take the day off and eat.

Annie and Kelton and I are sailing- racing towards the red buoy that marks the end of the swimming zone. Past there, there's sharks and other dangerous sea creatures- not that I couldn't handle them.
Annie's in the lead, as she always is- she's an excellent sailor, and she seems to share Caprice's knowledge of knots.
Kelton's last, but it's probably because he's got a passenger- Solene, who was insistent upon coming with us, but isn't old enough to man her own boat.
Annie courses through the buoy line with a whoop.
"Losers!" She cackles, performing an exemplary victory dance.
"You've got to be nice to me. It's my birthday." I remind her, grumpily pulling even and sticking out my tongue.
Annie smirks. "I'll be nice to you when you improve your sailing skills." She teases, watching with amusement as Kelton lunges to stop Solene from tipping over the edge of his boat.
"Alright there, Kel?" She calls.
Kelton leans forwards and clamps his hands over Solene's ears before he demonstrates his extraordinary knowledge of explicit language.
Solene looks up at him solemnly. "I heard that." She accuses.
Kelton musses her hair. "No, you didn't."
"Did, too!" She retorts gleefully, turning and shoving Kelton into the water.
Annie and I howl with laughter at the satisfied expression on the little girl's face.
He submerges with a splash, before his head pops out again and he glares at us.
"Oh, you're going to pay for that, clownfish." He threatens, kicking towards my boat and tipping it in one fluid motion.
I fall, shrieking, and emerge to find that Annie, too, is now in the water, Solene perched on her shoulders.
I arch a brow. "How are you managing to tread with her on top of you?"
Annie shrugs elegantly. "I'm the best swimmer in District Four, Odair." She says casually.
Kelton makes a sound of outrage.
"Oh, yeah? Race you to the shore!"
Annie grins, passing Solene to me.
"You're on, Rich Boy." She crows, treading up to Kelton and positioning herself.
I sigh. They never do tire of competition. "Three. Two. One. GO!"
They're off like a rocket.
Solene looks to me. "Annie's going to win." She informs me.
"Have some faith in your babysitter, Sol."

Annie, of course, wins.

Back on the sand, Kelton and I are frantically pushing sand together, creating towering castles- We'll be waging war in a couple minutes, and my defense needs to be stellar.
"You're going down, Odair!" Kelton cries, now packing wet clumps of sand to make ammunition.
"Oh yeah, you are!" Solene's older brother and Kelton's current ally, Solomon, is crouched behind Kelton's defense, frantically adding fortifications.
I turn to my own teammate, Annie.
"Prepare the bullets, soldier." I command.
Annie salutes, seizing a bit of ammunition.
"One. Two. And- Open FIRE!"
Annie launches a seashell at Kelton, who dramatically slumps to the ground, pretending to be dead.

Solomon gasps dramatically, patting Kelton down.
"General! General, do you copy?"

Annie smiles. "Their General is down, sir." She reports.

I nod my satisfaction. "Well done, soldier. Prepare to invade." Annie stomps over, more seashells raised threateningly.
Solomon falls to his knees, lifting his hands in surrender.
"Take him prisoner, Sergeant." I order, amused.
A giggling Solene tackles her brother into the sand. They tussle for a second before Solene sits on his back, grinning victoriously.
"Got him, General!" She crows.
"Well done, Sergeant Tidra. Remind me to promote you later."
Annie nudges Kelton with her toe.
"What should we do with this ugly dead person?"
I grin maliciously. "I think we should dump him in the ocean."
Kelton miracously revives.
"No! My kingdom!"
I look down upon him imperiously. "Your kingdom is mine, now, Kelton Thallos. Surrender or di-"

"Fin." My mother's voice interrupts my threat, sounding strangely tense- strangely taught.
I look up. "What's up? I'm in the middle of conquering Kelton-Town."
My mother beckons urgently. I sigh.
"Don't let me down, Annie."
"I won't dream of it, General." She vows.

I tramp over to my mother, brushing sand off of my legs.
"What's up?"
"Snow is here." She hisses, practically dragging me back towards our house.
I blink in shock. "The President? Why?"
She shrugs. "Apparently it's tradition for him to visit Victors on their birthdays. They just don't show it on television. Either way, I'm not going to keep the President waiting."
"I'm in a bathing suit!" I protest, trying to free myself from her grip.
"He said for you to come immediately. And again, I'm not going to keep the president of Panem waiting." She says, fear an undercurrent in her voice.
She's right, but there's something slightly embarrassing about wearing swim trunks in front of someone in a tuxedo (Even if I know I'll still manage to look better)
"Fine." I grumble, allowing her to pull me along.

The President is holding court in the study of our house, sipping delicately on a glass of water.
He sets the glass down when he sees me.

"Oh, excellent. Thank you, Mrs. Odair." He says charmingly. "Finnick. Please, sit down."
As if I'm the one in his house and not vice versa. My mother makes herself scarce immediately.
I force a smile. "It's- a pleasure, President Snow. May I ask what you're doing here?" It comes out a little blunter than I intended, but I don't really care.
Snow smiles slowly, lazily. "It's your birthday, is it not? It would be bad form not to visit my famous Victor on the day he turns sixteen."
I'm not convinced for a second.
"Excuse me if this is rude, but will all due respect, don't you have better things to be doing?" I say skeptically.
To my suprise, he laughs.
"I like you, Finnick Odair. Quite the mouth you've got on you." He smiles, but it's not a look Kelton might shoot me- rather the expression a lion shows it's prey. Pleased. Anticipating. hungry.
But I am not a zebra, and he is not a lion. I make an effort to hold his gaze, waiting for him to continue.
Eventually, he does. "And yes, you're right, Mr. Odair. I do have reason outside of your big day to come- though I'm pleased to hear of all the fun you've been having. Happy sixteenth."
I nod stiffly.
He sips the water.
I arch a brow, waiting for him to continue. When he doesn't, I exhale silently through my nose, annoyed.
"May I ask... what that is?" I say finally.
Snow swallows slowly.
"Well, I have certain...duties for you. Effective on any and all visits to the Capitol, so at least once a year."
I am immediately suspicious. "You mean... mentoring?"
I knew I was going to replace Callen as a mentor- he doesn't really intrigue people anymore, whereas I'm a shiny, bright new face.
"Not mentoring." He says serenely, taking another sip. "Although I'm expecting you to do that, too."
I sigh, impatient. Does he want to tell me or not?
"What, exactly, will I be doing on top of mentoring?"
Possibilities flash through my mind. Perhaps Caesar Flickerman or Claudius Templesmith are getting too old? Maybe he needs a pretty face for advertising?

Snow smiles again, eyes flickering with amusement.
"People have want of you, Finnick Odair. And what my people want, my people get. So, you'll be... entertaining... some of the Capitol's most loyal Patrons. Who sponsored you in your Games." He sets down his water carefully.

I scowl, confused. "As in... attending parties? Going to banquets?" I question, though a sinking feeling in my stomach tells me this is only the tip of the iceberg.
Snow shrugs delicately. "Yes. If that's what they want. But young, pretty thing like you- I imagine they'll be more interested in...other things." He says, examining his nails as if he can't be bothered with this particular conversations.

"Other things? Like what? " I demand, my voice cracking with barely disguised panic. I need to be sure- though I know—deep down, I know what he means.
I fight down the rising nausea as Snow finally looks up, serpentine gaze meeting mine.


"Oh, Mr. Odair. They want you . Your beauty. Your body. Your obedience."


I can't breathe.
I knew it was coming, and still fear and rage and nausea come crashing through me like a freed wave.

I can't do that. I can't. I'm only-

"They want to- they want to sleep with me." I say flatly. It's not a question.
Snow nods once, going for his water and glancing at his watch. "Precisely." He says shortly.
"No." I bite out immediately, shocking both Snow and myself with my daring.
He looks back up to me slowly.
"I'm sorry?"
"I said no. I will not." I say more firmly, narrowing my eyes.

Maybe I should be more respectful. This is the President, after all.

But you know what? I've already lost my mind to a torrent of fear and destruction and guilt. I'm sixteen years old and have killed four people, am haunted by nightmares of my dead friends. I will not let my body become a plaything for the Capitol to use and discard. I will hold on to the one part of me that still belongs to me.

"No?" President Snow repeats slowly, pronouncing the word like it tastes bad on his tongue. "Are you quite sure?"
I just glare, disgust and rage waging war in my brain.
Snow sighs. "Well, I gave you quite the generous offer, Mr. Odair. I'm afraid if- and by if, I mean when- you change your mind, I won't be quite so...lenient."
"I will not change my mind." I bite out, rising to my feet. "Goodbye."
I storm out the door and slam it shut without a second thought.

But the President of Panem doesn't like to be denied. He reclines in the study chair, dialing a number on his phone.
"We've had some... problems." He hisses into the speaker.
Pauses a second. "He's going to need some special persuasion."
Another pause.
And then Snow grins. "He'll be begging me to reconsider within a day." He promises.

Notes:

Basically, it's Finn's sixteenth birthday.
He's celebrating with Annie, Kelton, and his parents, and gets a strange surprise visit from one President Snow.
Assuming at first it's a usual thing, Finnick agrees to meet with him.
He finds out the President reason for meeting is not what it seems, though.
Snow informs Finnick of his new duties, to which Finnick refuses.
Snow just smiles, and tells him that when Finnick changes his mind, which Snow believes he inevitably will, Snow won't be quite so lenient.
Enraged, Finnick leaves.
Snow gets on a phone call and informs the person on the other end that Finnick is going to need special persuasion.

Chapter 37: Some Extra Persuasion

Summary:

Graphic Character death. Gore, grief, mentions of prostitution, murder, blackmail
Probably one of the most difficult chapters in the entire book- summary at the end once more if you need it.

I lie.

My mother asks why Snow showed up. I lie. I tell her it's customary.
Annie’s eyes flicker with worry when she catches me coming in late. “Where were you?”
I give her the same answer, a smile stretched too tight.
Solene, all sunshine and innocence, giggles and asks me if he gave me a gift.
I murmur a no, turning away before she can see how my hands shake.

They believe me.
Of course they do.
They want to.

Everyone believes me.

Except Kelton.

He notices every pause, every gap, every time I avoid his eyes.
Mercifully, he stays silent. Until after, when he's settled on my bedroom floor, having somehow convinced his father to let him stay over, eyes closed.

"What did he actually want?" He says suddenly, his voice ripping through the quiet like Cade's knives.

I'm not going to tell him.
"I told you." I lie smoothly, tucking the blankets a little tighter around myself.
Kelton shoots me a skeptical look.
"Bullshit." He says bluntly, as he always is with me, sitting up a little.
"Come on, Fin. It's me. We always tell each other everything." He wheedles when I don't reply, his playful gaze taking on a slightly worried sheen.
"Is something wrong?"
I can only nod dimly, thinking back to earlier in the day.

"They want you. Your beauty. Your body. Your obedience."

Kelton shoots to his feet, stepping towards me and plopping down on the bed beside me.
"Sit up, Fin." He orders.

I obey, unable to stop the trembling in my hands.
"God, Fin, what happened?" Kelton says softly, slinging his arm around me and pulling me closer to him.

"I- I can't-" My voice cracks, and I can't stop the tears from beginning to pour down my face.

"Fin. Hey, Fin, I'm here. What happened?"

Should I tell him?

The question lingers in the air, heavy and suffocating. I know Kelton, I know my brother. In fact, I know him better than anyone else.
But yet... I can't help but wonder.... will he think of me differently, if I tell him of Snow's intentions? About what he wants to use me for?
Will he be disgusted, repulsed?

And... and besides. If I say it out loud, it becomes real.

But... it's Kelton.
My brother.
He deserves the truth, does he not?
If our places had been reversed, I would want him to tell me. So I could help him. So I could protect him.
Maybe he’s the only one who can understand. Maybe, just maybe, he’ll know what to do when I don’t.
No matter how much this hurts, he’s my best friend. My brother. He deserves the truth.

Taking a deep breath, I turn to face him, my voice barely a whisper.

"He wants me to- wants to make me-" I'm whispering so quietly Kelton has to strain to hear.

He leans forwards, concern rippling from him. "Make you what, Fin?" He begins to rub little circles on my shoulder.

I stare helplessly into the ocean blue of my best friend and brother's eyes.

And I break, shuddering.

“He wants to make me the Capitol’s…” My voice trembles. “He wants to make me their whore.”

The word burns. Leaves ash in my mouth. I turn away, ashamed—bracing for horror, for judgment, for pity.

Instead, Kelton's hand stops moving.
" What." The word lands heavy, dangerous, as he rises to his feet.

I can't bear to look at him.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" His voice is quiet but positively thrums with tension.

I just continue looking at the corner, trying to stem my tears from flowing.

I knew I shouldn't have told him.

"Happy birthday to me, right?" I mutter bitterly.
Kelton scoffs. "Fin. Look at me." He orders.

I do so slowly, miserably. Ready for the look that will shatter me completely.

But it isn't disgust in his eyes.

It's rage. And devastation. And love.

"Fin, tell me you told him no." He says, kneeling in front of me, his hands gripping mine. "Please, Fin."
"I told him no." I confirm, shaking. "But I'm afraid of- I'm afraid of what he might do to make me." I admit, my voice barely audible.

Kelton's eyes turn stormy.
No longer the clear seas of the day, but rather crashing waves and sunken ships.

"Then he'll have to go through me first." Kelton hisses, gripping my hands tighter. "As long as I'm alive, he won't so much as lay a finger on you."

He sounds so sure, so angry.
I so badly want to believe him. I nod once. As if to convince myself. And again, because it didn't work the first time.
I fall asleep in my brother's arms, clinging to a desperate hope that, somehow, he will protect me.

 

A day passes. Then two.
I'm lulled into a sense of security.
Annie and Kelton and I go about our days.
I try not to think about the upcoming games. Where I will have to mentor someone. Possibly someone older than me. I will most likely have to watch them die.
After three days, I start to forget about Snow and my supposed duty.
Kelton keeps a careful eye on me, but even he starts to relax after four.
He swears as he checks his watch. "Fuck. I've got to go, Fin, I'm going to be late for Sol." He slicks his wet hair back against his head and tosses me his trident,throwing on his shirt.
I laugh, spearing a fish. We might have enough money to buy our food now, but while they live in a decently sized house, Solomon and Solene lack fresh food.
So Kelton and I fish. And then when he goes over to watch Solene (free of charge, of course- Annie's nickname for him isn't without cause) he brings them our catches.
As he goes, Kelton seizes the cooler full of fish from the driver's seat on his way past my shiny new motorboat. Turns out being a Victor comes with perks other than vicious nightmares.
We were boating earlier, Annie and Kelton and I- now that I'm old enough to drive, we don't have to convince my father to accompany us.
Much to Kelton's annoyance, he's still too young to drive himself, as his birthday isn't until October. Annie's a year younger than the two of us, so she's still got a while to go.
"Alright. Bye." I call.
Kelton gives me a little wave over his head, shaking his hair out like a wet dog.

I shake my head, too, amused.
I don't head home for a couple of minutes, just wading out and putting away the fishing stuff. Of course Kelton leaves all the chores for me. Of course.
I trudge home with wet pants and sleeves. My mother's gone to work, but my Father is home, stirring something in a pot.
He glances over his shoulder when he sees me. "Oh, hey, Fin. Where's Kelton?" He asks, bringing a wooden spoon to his mouth and sipping. I throw one of our nets onto the table.
"Left for the Tidras." I say, sniffing the air. "Oh, yum. You should let me help. Since I'm a chef and all." I wiggle my brows.
My father rolls his eyes. "Maybe in the eyes of the Capitol. But we both know I'm the head of the kitchen in this family."
I sigh. "True, true. Alright. I'm going to change, then, before dinner."
"Pray, hang up your wet clothes. Don't leave them in a soggy pile on the ground."
"Yeah, yeah." I grumble, tromping up the stairs.
I strip off my wet clothes, leaving them in a soggy pile on the ground.

Since winning the Games, my wardrobe has tripled. Still, I select track pants and a simple sweatshirt, because comfort.
I'm in the middle of tugging on my socks when the phone rings.
I jump about a foot into the air, startled.
I'm still not used to that irritating ringing sound. Still, I approach and delicately pick up the phone, pressing the speaker to my ear.
There's not too many people in Four who have phones- Mags, Callen, Kelton's father- but the caller is none of them. Actually, it's Elara Tidra, Solene's mother. She's unusually frazzled.
"Hi, Finnick, hun. Do you know where Kelton is? He was supposed to be coming over today." She says, frustrated.
I frown, confused. "He left, like, twenty minutes ago. Maybe his dad was being a dick again. Hold on. Let me call him."

I ring Kelton's father next, rolling my eyes when his familiar grating voice fills my ears. "Hello, Mr. Odair. Can I be of assistance to you?" He says, his voice oily as always.
"I was just wondering if Kelton was home."
A little bit of rustling on his end. "No. I thought he was out herding the rif-raf?"
Rage courses through me as I hear his assessment of the Tidras, but it's quickly overcome by panic.
I don't bother saying good-bye, slamming the phone back onto it's holder.

Oh, no. Oh, god, oh no.
I practically fly down the stairs, throwing open the door and tearing back towards the beach.
Frantically, I follow Kelton's trail.
Down the beach.
Up towards the residential areas, where I can see his sandy footprints.
And then... suddenly stopped.

I exhale with relief. He's fine. He's probably just-
My gaze trails over the rocky bluff- essentially a steep rocky hill towards the beach.
Grey upon grey upon- blue.

No.

No.

No.

No.

NO.

Sprawled across the rocks, eyes staring blankly at the sky, neck jutting at an unnatural angle.

"KELTON!" I scream, charging towards him. I trip and fall nearly three times, scraping my knees and palms and elbows, but I don't notice the pain, still advancing for my brother.

"KELTON!" I scream again, the sound ripped raw from my throat.

My voice doesn't sound like mine.

It's panicked.

It's desperate.


And it's entirely too late.
I reach him, knees buckling as I collapse beside his still, broken body.

He's too pale, his limbs are all wrong. His mouth is slightly parted like he was in the middle of saying something but never got the chance.
And his eyes.

Those ocean-blue eyes which sparkled with humor

With joy

With sadness

With love

Are empty.

So so empty.


"No." I choke on my breath, gasping for air.
I need to find his pulse.
It's okay.
I can fix him.

I won't fail him.
Not like I failed Jasper
Not like I failed Rowan
Not like I failed Caprice.

But
I
Already
Have
Because
His
Heart
Has
Stopped

"No. No, come on, Kel, get up, You’re just—just playing a prank. Right?” I laugh, a choked, desperate sound. “You always said you’d get me back for that jellyfish stunt.” My voice is hysterically high as I continue to laugh, shaking him.

HE IS NOT GONE.

But his chest does not rise and his heart does not beat.

HE IS NOT GONE.

But his neck is snapped and the bone juts out, as white as the rose pinned to his-

a
rose
pinned
to
his
shirt

The world stops

a

rose

pinned

to

my

brother's

still

chest


Which means...
This was no accident.
Kelton did not slip and fall and break his neck.
A message, plain as day.

The cost of my refusal.

"No. No, no, no, Kelton, no..." I babble, letting the tears pour out from my eyes and onto his chest, onto that horrid flower.

this

is

my

fault

"Oh, Kelton, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry, I wish it was me..." I tell him tenderly, lying my head on his chest.
Where I once might have heard the steady beat of his heart but where there is now only silence.

I tilt my head up to the sky.

"WHY! WHY COULDN'T IT HAVE BEEN ME!" I howl, dragging my nails down my face like Robyn once did.

It should have been me.
It should have been me.
I deserve it.
I'm a monster a murder-
Kelton is good.
He is better than me, was always better, will always be better-

"Fin?"

I let my head fall back onto Kelton's chest.

"Finnick, what-"
My mother's scream pierces the air.

"Liora, what's wrong-" But then Annie sees and she cries out, too, eyes locking on Kelton and then on me.

"Finnick, what happened?"

But I'm not looking at her.

Not really.

I look at her hair.

Where a white rose has been tucked behind her ear.

Then to my mother.

A white rose corsage.

Solomon, looking horrified has a white rose tucked in his lapel.

He covers Solene's eyes, nearly blocking my view of the white rose woven into her braid.

My father clutches his tightly in his hand, nearly crushing it.

Mags holds hers delicately.


Not flowers.

t
a
r
g
e
t
s

I stand.
abrupt.
I'm covered in Kelton's blood.
I don't care.

I need to go home.

Home to the study, where I know I will find a snake who smells of blood and roses.

Who killed my brother and best friend
Who has killed everything and everyone I care about

Well.

Not yet, he hasn't.

I can stop him.

Not with defiance.

But with obedience.

Whatever it is I will become

It's better than losing them.

They don't deserve what happened to Kelton.

Mags doesn't My Mother doesn't My Father doesn't Solomon doesn't Solene doesn't. Annie doesn't.

If I must be the Capitol's whore to protect them...

I will.

And so I run.

Towards home.

Towards the snake who smells of blood and roses.

Notes:

In this chapter, Finnick reluctantly informs Kelton of what Snow has demanded of him.
This enrages Kelton, who promises Finnick that Snow won't touch him while he is alive.

Both boys are on high alert for a couple of days, worried about the President's threat.

One day, after Annie, Kelton and Fin have been boating and fishing, Kelton leaves to go babysit Solene.

However, Finnick finds out he never arrived.
After confirming he is not with his father, Finnick sets out to look for him, eventually finding him dead with a rose clipped to his shirt, demonstrating that he was killed because of Finnick's failure to comply.
After a couple of minutes, Finnick is found by his family and friends, all who sport white roses somewhere in their outfits.
These are targets, telling Finnick who Snow will kill next.

The chapter ends with Finnick running to find Snow, hoping he'll be able to protect his remaining loved ones.

Chapter 38: A Crown of Thorns

Summary:

Difficult chapter again.
Mentions of sexual assault, forced prostitution, blackmail, murder etc

Also thanks for all the support. Kudos and Comments always bring a smile to my face.
You guys are the best :)

Of course he's there.

Snipping thorns off of one of those precious white roses of his, lounging in the desk chair like he owns the place.

I burst in, gasping for air.

"You." I snarl, stalking towards him. "You sniveling, sadistic snake. You killed him. You MURDERED MY BROTHER!" I scream, anger turning my vision red.
I lunge for his throat, intent on ripping him to shreds. I will kill him slowly and painfully, will rip his heart in two to show him just how much pain I'm in.

But what he says next stops me in my tracks.

"I didn't kill him, Mr. Odair. You did." He says softly, watching me with a face of mild amusement.

The words hit me like a punch to the stomach. I stagger back a few steps.
"No. No, I-"
"You killed him, Finnick Odair, when you told me no. You killed him, and you commended the rest of them."

Anger is replaced by terror.

Snow just smiles. "Your parents, Solomon and Solene Tidra, Mags Flanagan, and of course, Annie Cresta." He murmurs.
"Did you see my little gift for them?"

I can only stare.

I open my mouth. Close it. No sound comes out.

"Please." I choke out finally, my gaze locked on the rose in his hand. The word burns in my throat, and I hate myself for saying them, hate myself for letting him win, but... Mom. Dad. Solomon, Solene, Mags. Annie.

"Please what?" He says softly, coaxingly. Like a lover.

"Don't. Hurt. Them." I plead, dragging my eyes to his. Blue. But not like Kelton's- like warm summer days and the beach. Rather, his are sharp and cold and endless amused, a puppeteer pulling the strings and laughing as we dance.

He tilts his head, regarding me like a painting that he's finally satisfied with. "Say it again." He demands, voice dripping with sugar and venom.

I swallow hard, the taste of blood and shame thick in my throat. "Please. Don't hurt them."

His smile grows. Slowly. Triumphantly.
"I told you I wouldn't be so lenient when you changed your mind. Why should I spare them?"

My knees thud as they hit the ground.
"I will do. Anything." I breathe. "Anything."

The chair pushes back. I hear the scrape of it's legs against the ground, but I don't dare look up, my eyes fixed on the ground in front of me.
Anything. Anything, for them.
For Solomon, who loves Solene as I love Kelton. For Mags and my parents, who have always been there for me. And for Annie, who I would do anything to keep safe.
Anything.

"That's better." He hums, advancing towards me.
I can't help but flinch as he harshly grips my chin, forcing me to look up at him.
Unlike anyone I know, his hands are smooth as silk, the absence of calluses or bruises or blisters a sure sign that he's never done a day of manual labour in his life.
But they're cold. Hard as ice and as cold as Snow.
Condescendation flows through his voice when he speaks. "You see? It wasn't so difficult, now was it?"

But it was, though. It costs every ounce of self respect, every ounce of dignity that I possess.
But...anything, anything, anything.
"No, sir." I whisper.
His thumb brushes mockingly across my cheek, smearing a tear I didn’t realize had fallen. “There’s my good little Victor,” he purrs. "So polite when properly motivated."

I want to move I want to scream I want to bite him for calling me his-
But I don't.
I'm statue still, lips pressing together, fists clenched so tight my nails carve half-moon divots into my palms.

He straightens then, smoothing out his already perfect suit with a self satisfied sigh.
"You'll be mentoring this year." He says, almost lazily. "The Capitol is eager to see its Golden Boy again. You'll smile. You'll laugh. You'll do whatever they ask of you. And if you don't..."
He lets the threat hang in the air.
He doesn't need to say it.
I close my eyes and nod.

"Good!" He says brightly, as though this was as simple as a business transaction. "I'll see you in a couple of days, then. Happy Hunger Games, Mr. Odair."

He seizes the rose from the table and tucks it slowly behind my ear, smiling like a cat when I don't make any effort to dislodge it.
It seems he's missed a thorn, as one digs into my scalp hard enough for blood to trickle down through my hair and down my head.
Still I don't move, keeping my eyes downcast.

He stares at me for a second- I can feel those serpent eyes sweeping over me, my body.
And then he sweeps out without another word, barking orders to guards posted at the door that I didn't notice in my rush.
Good thing I didn't claw out his throat, then, I suppose.
But then, nothing about today has been good.

Slumping to the ground, I tremble, curling in on myself.
Blood from the rose mingles with tears I can't stop, can't control.
My breath stutters in ragged gasps, the air too thick. Too sharp. Too cruel.

My brother is dead.

And now I serve his murderer.

My brother is dead, and it's all my fault.

I pound my fist against the floor, hard enough to send jolts of impact shuddering up my arm.
Good.
I deserve worse.
I deserve every inch of this.
Kelton, Tulle, Corduroy, Etta, Robyn.

Robyn.

"Let me save you." She said. Let me save you, as she raked her nails down my face, trying to leave scars.
Not the works of a madwoman, nor a last ditch attempt at life. But truly trying to save me.
To ruin my face in order to stop this.

I wish I had let her.
Wish my Trident hadn't found its mark, wish she had carved so deeply into my face it could never be reversed.

I thank her for trying, anyway. I regret killing her. "I'm so sorry, Robyn." I whisper to the sky.
I hope wherever she is, it's big and wild and free.
"I'm so sorry."

I'm sorry, Robyn.
And God, am I sorry, Kelton.
My fault, my fault, my fault.
How could I be so stupid, to believe that I could defy the president of Panem and escape unscathed?
Selfishness and naivety were the causes of Kelton's death.

A shuddering sob wracks my body.
I need Kelton. I need him so badly I can barely breathe.
I need his laugh, his voice, his fierceness.

Never again.

My fault.

Chapter 39: Ashen Petals

I lay here for hours. Days, maybe.
I don't know.

After he left, there's been nothing but silence.

Until now.
"Finnick!" Trembling as it always is, but forceful and panicked, Mags' voice sounds from downstairs.

I make no effort to get up.
I'm not even sure I'm able to.

But my silence doesn't dissuade Mags. I hear her footsteps heading up the stairs, the creaking of doors as she checks room after room.
It doesn't take her long to find me.
Her breath catches in her throat.
"Finnick!" She gasps, rushing to my side. I can only blink up at her, tears budding in my eyes.

Confusion ripples across my Mentor's face for only a moment before it's replaced by shock. Shock, and fear.
"No." She breathes.
And then her eyes lock on the rose that is still firmly in it's place behind my ear.
"No, no- Finnick. Finnick, darling, what happened?" She questions, though the anger in her eyes and the crushing sympathy in her tone is enough to tell me she knows.

Her hands hover over me for a second, like she doesn't know whether to gather me in her arms or rip that rose from my hair.

Her hands hover over me, as if she doesn't know whether to hug me or remove the rose.
She chooses the former, hitting the ground so fast I wince, and pulling me into an embrace.

"Oh, sweetheart..." Her voice wavers as she brushes that flower from my hair, quickly and sharply, as if it's poison.
Maybe it is.

Then she tosses it into the fire, the flames licking away at it, crumbling it to ashes.
As the white rose is devoured by the fire, Mags gathers me close, gently yet firmly, as if she's trying to piece something broken back together. Which, in a way, she is.

I bury my head into her shoulder, not bothering to conceal my tears.
It's okay to cry around Mags, after all.
"Kelton." I choke out. "Kelton."
Mags' grip tightens.
"I know. I know. I'm so sorry. Oh, sweetheart, I'm sorry." She whispers.
She runs a hand through my hair, murmuring soothing things under her breath.
"Mags." I cry. "Mags, it's my fault. Because I- because I said no."
Mags' tone sharpens. "It is not your fault, Finnick. The only one to blame is Snow." Her voice is laced with disgust as she mentions the president.
"He was going to kill- going to kill you, and Solomon and Solene and Annie." I add, my voice rushed and cracking.
"So I..."

I shatter again, breaking off into more tears.
Mags' voice trembles with fury. "You're brave beyond your years, sweetheart." She says finally.
"It's my fault. Mags, I'm sorry. It's my- It's my fault and now he's going to make me-" My words pour out in a rush, as quick and frantic as a waterfall.
"You have nothing to be sorry for, sweetheart. You shouldn't have to-" She breaks off, shaking her head.

I stay there in her arms for what must have been an hour, shaking and crying and trembling.
After a while, Mags begins to sing the lullaby that I did for Caprice.
That helps, actually- soothes the images in my brain.
Kelton's neck, the rose placed mockingly on his chest- Gone.
Snow's triumphant smile- Gone.
Robyn and my failure to understand - Gone.

Mags' crooning voice banishes them all.
Not permanently.
Without my brother to soothe me at night, I know they will be back come sundown.
But for now, I inhale slowly. Exhale.
Mags sighs. "Feeling better, sweetheart?" She asks quietly.
I'm quiet for a second. Am I better? Maybe all the water has just drained from me and there are simply no tears left.
"I'm scared." I admit after a moment, my voice barely audible.
Mags lets a tear fall onto her own aged cheek. "Me, too, sweetheart. Me too."
"Is Kelton-" I can't bring myself to say the rest. Saying it makes it real.
Mags nods tersely. "Your parents and I took care of it." She doesn't continue, which is fine. I don't want to know.
I bite hard down on my lip, so as to keep myself from crying.
"My parents- they're okay?"
Mags nods again.
"They're fine. The Tidras are fine. Annie's fine." She assures.

That, at least, is a relief. Maybe I just lost the rights to my own body- but at least my family are okay. At least Solomon and Solene are okay. At least Annie's okay.

Annie.

"How is Annie doing?" I ask.
Mags scrutinizes me. "She's... sad, obviously. Wants to see you."
"You can't tell them." I say forcefully, loudly. "Promise me you won't. Not about what happened to Kelton. Not about any of this with Snow."
Mags hesitates for a second.
"Please, Mags." I beg. "Please. I don't want them to look at me like-" I trail off, not wanting to finish that particular sentence.
Mags scowls, but reluctantly bobs her head. "They would never do that, Fin. If you don't tell them, they won't... they won't understand. Annie won't understand."

A single tear drops onto my face.
I shrug bitterly. "She doesn't have to understand. She just has to stay alive."
No, Annie Cresta, who I love can't know why I'm doing... any of what I'll be forced to do. She must stay blissfully ignorant. Blissfully unharmed. Blissfully alive.
Even if it makes her hate me.

"If that's what you want." Mags resigns quietly.
It's not. I don't want Annie to think I chose ditzy Capitol citizens who would buy someone over her. I don't want my parents to be embarrassed over their son.
But to keep them safe...
"It is."

-----------------

 

Mags Flanagan has seen a lot of awful things in her long life. She's killed. She's watched her dear friend be killed, unable to protect him.
She'd mentored dozens of children and watched them be killed in horrible ways.

But she doesn't think she's ever seen something so terrible as what they're doing to her boy.

Finnick Odair, who, against all odds, won the Hunger Games at only 14.
And now, at only 16, they are forcing him to-
Mags refuses to even think it. Refuses.
In fact, if she didn't know exactly what Snow would do to Finnick's family, she'd march straight to the Capitol and show him why she had won her Games.

Obviously, that was out of the question. Names ran through Mags' mind at lightning speed.
Callen would be useless.
Finnick had begged her not to involve any of his loved ones. She understood why, of course- the knowledge would put them in danger.
But it also means he is going to be suffering in silence.
Mags fumes. No one gets to mess with her boy. For indeed, Fin has become like a son to her throughout the years she's known him. She loves him like a son, that's for sure.

An idea shoots through Mags like a lightning bolt.
Perhaps it isn't immediate action, but...
Mags dashes to the telephone in her cavernous house. Far too big for one person, of course, but it does have it's benefits.
Mags dials the number as quickly as she can, waiting impatiently as it rings.

Finally, the person on the other hand picks up.
"Mags?" He asks, his Capitol accent ridiculous as ever. "How can I help you?"
"I need to speak with you." Mags says, rolling her eyes. "It's urgent."
Silence on the other end. "I suppose I have a couple minutes. Though I am dreadfully busy."
"I can only imagine." Mags' voice is dryer than a desert.
"So, what's wrong?" The man on the other side demands.
Mags gnashes her teeth. "It's about my Victor. Finnick Odair."
"What about him?"
"Don't be daft, Plutarch. What do you think?"
The Gamemaker goes silent. "Already?"
Mags laughs bitterly. "He's sixteen, you know."
They're both quiet for another second, until Plutarch speaks.
"Is he a fighter?" He asks.
Mags smiles a little. "Oh, yes."
She can practically see his grin.
"It's coming, Mags. We've got all the kindling, all the fuel we need. We just need some fire- and some luck."

Fire.

She'd thought Haymitch Abernathy, the Boy with the flint striker from Twelve, would be their fire.
And he'd started a flame, for sure.
But it had flickered out quickly.
Too quickly.
And he paid the price for even that small flame- his fate what Finnick's might have been had he continued to refuse.
Alone, without family, always at the bottom of a bottle.

She paid the price, too. The thought makes her shudder, muscles twitching. What Snow had done to her...

But the pain of losing him was worse, she thought, feeling a pang in her chest.
He had been her boy, too, Haymitch Abernathy.
But he'd turned them all away, only occasionally making small talk with the rest of them- usually his words slurring and passing a beer back and forth with Chaff.

She misses him.

"May the odds be ever in our favor, right?" She finally answers Plutarch, teasing lightly.
Plutarch lets out a muffled laugh. "Indeed. Well, I've really got to bounce- duty calls."
"Any hints on the arena?" She interrupts him.
Plutarch sighs. "Unless you want to lose your only informant inside the Capitol, you know I can't tell you that."
"I know." Mags grumbles. "But it would be helpful if you were more informative."
Plutarch exhales loudly. "Bye, Mags."
"Yeah, yeah." She sets the phone back onto it's holder.
Not much help from the Gamemaker, but at least the thought gives her hope.

It's coming. It's coming, it's coming.
Mags hopes and prays he's right.
She wants all the Finnicks, all the Solenes and Solomons and Keltons in the world to know what true safety feels like.
Not the Dark Days, nor the silent relief in between the Hunger Games.
But true safety, true happiness, true peace.
She doesn't want to lose anymore of her boys.

Chapter 40: Fabric & Fangs

There are five people on the train.

At least one of them will be dead within three weeks.
Probably both.
The knowledge is devastating.

I'll admit, I don't like the male tribute, Ty Calderin, much.
In fact, I rather dislike him- his father works with Kelton's, but unlike my brother, he's a massive snob.
Thin as a whip, his nose is always high in the air. He's arrogant and full of himself, and he's already drawling to Marlo about how he plans to win the Games in a week flat.

Marlo Fisk, the girl, on the other hand... her, I like.
Though her background is humbler than Ty's, the Fisherman's daughter doesn't let him push her around.
In fact, she's already punched him twice. Technically not allowed, but Mags and I turn a blind eye. (He totally deserved it)

Marlo is stuffing herself with a pastry now, shooting exasperated glances at her District Partner.
"Shut up , Calderin." She groans, presenting him with her middle finger.

He wrinkles his pale nose and looks like he's going to retort, but they're both interrupted by Mags' loud inhale.
"We're here." She announces.

Ty and Marlo dart to the window, while I slink away to my room.
I don't want to draw any attention away from them, nor do I want any attention on me.

We pull into the Remake Center, where I pull Marlo aside.
"It's going to hurt and it's not going to be pleasant." I warn. "Just let them do whatever it is. Don't kill them."
Marlo lets out a long sigh. "Not even a little?" She wheedles.
I shoot her a half grin. "Not even a little."
She grumbles under her breath but allows three Peacekeepers to lead her away.
I wince at Mags. "She's fierce, I'll give her that."
Mags rolls her eyes. "At least she's not a complete and total douche bag." She mutters, glaring at Ty's receding back.
I chuckle a little.

A couple of hours later, we're stationed by our chariot. Caprice and I were pirates two years ago, they were Mer-People last year, and this year Kortney has decked them to look like Greek Gods.
I think Ty is supposed to be Poseidon, but his sneering expression makes him look more like an eel.
Marlo, on the other hand, is clearly Amphitrite, holding a fake trident with the amount of confidence that makes it clear she knows what she's doing.

As we get them loaded up, we're approached by three people- A short, dark haired woman with bared fangs, a gigantic, equally dark haired man that towers over her, and a slimmer, cuttingly beautiful blonde man wearing a tuxedo that looks ludicrously expensive.

Mags smiles as they approach.
"Finnick, meet Gloss Tourmalayne, Enobaria Varek and Brutus Corthon. Gloss, Enobaria, Brutus, meet Finnick Odair." She points to each of them in turn, though I already know the famous Victors from years of watching the Games.
I nod in greeting.
Enobaria practically beams, flashing her pointed teeth. "The Wunderkind himself! We were wondering where you were last year." She crows. "I did so want to meet you."
I stiffen a little bit, fear racing down my spine.
Though her smile does seem genuine, Enobaria Varek is a dangerous person.
"Likewise." I say, my voice smooth honey.
Gloss snorts. "You'll tire of her quickly, don't worry."
Enobaria elbows him in the stomach. Hard.
"I'm delightful, Glossy. Shut that pretty mouth of yours this instant." She orders, baring her teeth at him.
Mags hides her smile as Brutus snorts.
"Heard your birthday was the other day." Enobaria continues, ignoring Gloss as he doubles over in pain.

At the mention, I wince. Just slightly. But enough that all three victors notice.

Enobaria's eyes narrow, Gloss' mouth tightens, and even Brutus' scowl deepens.
Before I have to deal with that particular conversation, Ty calls from the chariot.

"When does this thing start?" He whines.

Marlo gives him a look so full of disgust that Enobaria cracks up.

"I approve. " She says, nodding towards my Tribute.

"She punched him. Twice." I offer, unable to keep the fondness from my voice.

Enobaria cackles. "Oh, I really like her."

Mags rolls her eyes. "Yes, well, you two can bond over punching men later. In the meantime, we've got a parade to watch."
She looks pointedly towards the Tributes from One and Two, decked out in jewels and gladiator helmets respectively.
Enobaria and Brutus nod farewells and dash back towards them, while Gloss lingers.

"You okay?" He murmurs under his breath.
I give him a tight smile. "Peachy." I lie.

Gloss gives me a look that says he doesn't believe me, but swears and jogs back to his chariot after a shrill "GLOSS!" From his sister, Cashmere.

"They are not what I expected." I admit when he's returned.
Mags smiles a little. "No." She agrees. "They're not bad people, really. They don't show it on cameras, but we Victors have each other's backs."

Both of us go quiet when the drums start to beat and Marlo and Ty are pulled forwards by their team of inky black horses. The two of them manage to look somewhat impressive- Ty's sneer coming off as more confident than snobby, and Marlo's stone face making her both mysterious and cold.

"Hello, darling." Someone purrs behind me.
I instantly go ramrod stiff. Mags' normally kind face hardens.

I don't have to turn around to know who, exactly, is behind me.

Lavelle Ciloy.

My first client.

I turn around and force a cocky smile onto my face. "Lavelle Ciloy." I drawl, brushing a kiss to her knuckles. "Enchanted to see you in person at last."

Lavelle's platinum blonde hair is perfectly coiled into an intricate updo, in contrast with the deep red of her dress. She wears the smirk of someone who’s far too used to having power at her fingertips.
"Oh, believe me, me too." She coos, stepping even closer to me.
I'm a good head taller than her, but still I feel small as wicked green eyes survey me.
Her smile grows slightly and she leans in close to whisper.
"You're even prettier in person." Her lips graze my ear, and I repress the urge to shudder.

I can do this.

I can, and I must.

Lavelle is a looming presence at my side all throughout the precision, her hands roaming over my body, her arm linked with mine.
I endure it, of course- smirking and drawling and allowing her fingers to trail wherever they wish, though really I'm curling into a ball inside myself. I don't want to be present for- for this.

When Marlo and Ty return, she shoots me a confused glance, but shrugs and leaves with a scowling Mags when I give her an almost imperceptible shake of my head.
Three wine glasses deep, Lavelle turns to me, lust and anticipation glittering in her eyes.

"What do you say we get out of here?" She breathes, running a sharply manicured nail lightly down my back.
I smile because I have to, nod because I must.
And I follow her out.

I stay curled up inside myself, trusting my body to do what it must.
Hidden and safe, I chant their names.
Mom. Dad. Solene. Solomon. Mags. Annie. Mom. Dad. Solene, Solomon. Mags. Annie.
The rhythm keeps me from splintering, keeps me breathing.

I've lost track of how long I hide.
Only when Lavelle stands, sighing contentedly, do I rouse.
I stand up, stumbling a little as I shove myself back into my clothing.
It's a longer ordeal than usual because of vicious slashes down my back, courtesy of Lavelle's nails, and also I can barely move.
"Goodnight, pretty thing." Lavelle purrs, not bothering to clothe herself.
I don't bother to respond, slipping out as quickly as I can.

I quickly find that walking is difficult.
I drag myself to the elevator, trying desperately not to fall.
I'm unsuccessful, tumbling into someone's arms.

"Sorry, I-" I mumble, trying to untangle myself.
"Finnick?" A deep male voice. Familiar.
Gloss
"Yeah. Sorry. I-"
Another voice, sharper and higher, interrupts me. "What is wrong with y- Oh. Oh, No. Oh, for fuck- Gloss, I now have an urgent errand I need to complete."
Her voice is dripping with sickly sweet venom by the end, promising all sorts of bloody goodness.

"Cash, no murdering." Gloss warns, his words stopping his sister in her tracks.
Even in my state, I manage a small smile as she huffs.
"He's sixteen, Glossy." She breathes, eyeing me up and down. "Sixteen."
Gloss' grip on me tightens and he begins to gently lead me away. "Well aware. Come help me."
Cashmere stomps over and slings my arm around her shoulder surprisingly gently.
"Thanks." I mutter under my breath, leaning heavily into Gloss.
Cashmere nods. "Who was it?" She asks softly.
I squeeze my eyes shut. "Lavelle Ciloy."
Cashmere bares her teeth, hatred coursing through her classically beautiful face.
"Gloss." She pleads.
"No."
"Please?"
"No."
"Just a little."
"No."
"Fuck you."
"That would be incest."
"You're a little shit, you know that?"
Gloss doesn't get a chance to defend himself, as we've reached the Fourth Floor.
Cashmere punches the button to open the doors like it personally insulted her, and it swings open to reveal a panicked looking Mags.
She gasps when she sees me.
"What happened?" She demands, turning to look at the other two Victors.
"He practically collapsed into me. Cash and I brought him up." Gloss explains, setting me gently on the couch.
Mags rushes over, noticing the bloodstains on my back.
"Oh, sweetheart. Want me to find some doctors, or something?" She asks, grabbing my hand and tracing soothing circles on it.
"No." I rasp. "Need to- Need to shower. Need her off."
She nods sympathetically.
"Go start the shower." She orders Cashmere.

She has enough sense not to disobey.

Five minutes later, Gloss is gently leading me to the bathroom, while Cashmere and Mags are arguing in hushed whispers, presumably about me.
I don't care enough to worry, however- instead focusing on scrubbing my whole body thoroughly.
I wash my hair four times before I can no longer smell her perfume, then use some sort of scrubber thing on the rest of my body as if to scrape the scent of her off of me.
I take extra care on my hands, my thighs, my abdomen, my neck.
I need her off. I need to not feel so.... so dirty

Eventually, when my back has stopped bleeding, merely pulsing an angry red, and the rest of my skin is raw and stinging, I slump to my knees, letting the water pour over me.
After ten minutes like this, there's a quiet knock on the door.
"Yeah?" I rasp.
No response.
Frowning, I stagger out of the shower, wrapping my waist in a plush towel before flinging open the door.
It's an Avox, which would explain the silence, branidishing clean clothes and an antibiotic.
"Oh. Thanks so much." I give her a small, grateful smile.
The Avox smiles a little, too, making a questioning face at my back.
"I'll be fine." I insist. She looks towards Mags, another question in her eyes.
"I can do it, thanks."
She nods and shuts the door with a quiet click.

I turn to the sink, keeping my gaze away from the mirror. I don't want to see myself, don't want to confirm what I know I'll look like.
Instead, I focus on purging her from my mouth.
Half a bottle of toothpaste, a bottle of mouthwash and twenty minutes later, the familiar taste of mint covers the sickly sweet taste of her, and I'm satisfied.

I unscrew the antibiotic, twist behind me to smear some on my back, and almost sigh in relief as the stinging quells.
Not caring about ruining the sweater, I pull my clothes on next, relishing in the smooth fabric against my skin.

Taking a deep breath, I twist open the bathroom door and step out.
To my surprise, the Tourmalayne siblings are still there- Gloss with his head in his hands and Cashmere pacing laps around the room.
"I'm going to kill her. I don't care what happens." She's saying.

Mags' head whirls towards me. "Finnick!" She says softly. "How are you?"
"I'm fine." I mutter, collapsing on the couch next to Gloss.
Cashmere scowls. "You don't look fine. Say the word and I'll bury a knife in anyone's gut." She promises.
Gloss lets out a long suffering sigh. "No murder." He reprimands.
" No murder " Cashmere mimics him.
"Cash, if I have to bail you out of jail again, I'm going to hide your knives." He threatens.
"You wouldn't dare."
"The two of you are going to wake up Ty and Marlo. " Mags hisses.
Cashmere frowns, sulking.
"We should probably be getting back anyway." she admits. "I had so much coffee yesterday I could barely sit down." Gloss laughs. "Gemma's a handful."
"Better a handful than a fucking shit." I chime in, thinking of Ty.

Gloss shrugs. "Mine's a shit, too." He rises slowly to his feet and stretches long arms above his head.
"Night, Finnick, Mags. See y'all tomorrow." He yawns.
Mags murmurs a sleepy goodbye as the District One Victors file out.

She then turns to me. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah. I'm going to bed."

I have nightmares, as always, but this one is different than usual- Faceless hands around my throat, on my chest, in my hair-
I wake up in cold sweat three times before, exhausted, I stumble out of my room for breakfast.

Chapter 41: A Little Hope

No one really shows what the Mentors do during the Hunger Games.
I had expected some grand buffet table, massive televisions, Sponsors lounging on chaises with glasses of wine for us to approach.
None of this is true.
Actually, the 24- well, 23 of us, have a smallish comfy room to ourselves, with an ornate door leading to where the Capitol elite, Sponsors among them, lounge on chaises with glasses of wine.

It's day 3 of the games, with 15 of the original 24 Tributes still alive, Marlo and Ty both among them.

I glance down at the tablet in front of me. Flashy, sleek, and probably hundreds of thousands of dollars, it demonstrates the Sponsor Money Marlo has and what I can do with it.
It's a decent amount, but I don't really have anything to do with it, seeing as my Tribute is in decent shape- armed with some knives, munching on a fish she speared and sipping comfortably on a canteen of water she nabbed from the Cornucopia.
My tablet follows her, so I can see her at all times, while Mags' follows Ty.
There's a big screen at the front of the room where we can see what the rest of the world is seeing.

Right now, the big action is a fight between the Girl from District One and another Boy, who looks to be from 11 or 3.
Cashmere and another Victor are sitting next to each other, murmuring. Neither looks angry, there's no sign of tension.
When Cashmere's girl eventually spears him through, the other Victor only pats her on the back before setting his tablet down.

"They're not mad at each other?" I mutter to Mags.
She shakes her head. "Not like it's their fault." She points out.
True enough, I suppose. Indeed, when Marlo sent a knife flying through Enobaria's Tribute, she only shot me a sad smile.

My attention turns to Haymitch Abernathy, the only one of us who has two tablets. Or, had, I suppose- they're both lying face down on the floor.
No wonder Etta didn't get anything for her injury, if this is the state of her mentor.

"What's wrong with him?" I ask Mags.
She follows my gaze and her expression saddens.
"He's drunk." She says simply.
"Yeah, but shouldn't he be watching?"
"Both of his tributes are..." She trails off.
I shut up immediately. District Twelve has only ever produced two Victors, Haymitch being the only living one. If I were him, I'd be passed out cold, too.

A glance at the big screen tells me nothing of extreme importance is happening, so I use the time to survey the other mentors.
Gloss and Cashmere Tourmalayne, obviously, from One. Enobaria Varek, Brutus Corthon. I've met all them.
And then there's District Three, where two slight people with dark hair and ashen skin lean against each other, murmuring quietly.
I nudge Mags. "Wiress Kepler and Beetee Latier, right?"
Mags nods. "Over there is Ian Nikara from Five and Rota Iuven from Six." She points them out. Neither look to be in great shape- Ian with massive dark grooves under his eyes and Rota sickly skinny with yellowing skin and bulging eyes.
"Is she..." I start.
"Morphling." Mags says grimly, gesturing to Rota's left. "Him, too."
Indeed, the other Victor from Six, who I recognize as Axel Flay, also looks to be addicted to the substance, slumping haphazardly against the wall and staring at a blank patch of wall directly to my left.
I wince.
"Then there's Luna from Five, Blight and Maple from Seven, Cecelia and Woof from Eight, Miller and Quinn from Nine, Nash and Delaney from Ten, and Seeder and Chaff from Eleven." Mags point out each Victor.
I recognize most of them from previous Games, though most of them have changed drastically since their Victories- drugs and alcohol are probably at fault for most.

The next few days go by in a blur. Definitely not a bad thing, considering my nightly activities, but not good, either, considering there's only four Tributes left in the Games.
Ty was killed a couple days ago by a mutt (Despite his vapid personality, Mags and I still shed some tears over him) but Marlo is still in it, along with Augustus from District One, Troy from District Two and Chive from District Eleven.
Seeder, Gloss, Brutus and I are sitting in a tight semi circle in front of the screen.
Seeder sends me a warm smile, seemingly sensing my nerves.
"It's okay, love." She says, her voice quiet and low. "You've done the best you can."
I return the smile, albeit weakly.
I clench my teeth, squeezing my eyes shut as Marlo engages in combat with Troy.

BOOM.

My eyes fly open. Both tributes are on the ground, Marlo with a wicked sword slash across her stomach, Troy with a knife embedded in his ribs.
I can't tell which of them is dead.
There's only one way to find out.
I force myself to look down at my tablet.
My heart almost stops when I see that it's still working.
Brutus', on the other hand, has gone dark.

Marlo lives, for now.

Brutus rises to his feet with surprising grace, crossing the room to Enobaria. She lifts her arms in a silent offer, which, to my surprise, he takes, wrapping his fellow mentor in a hug.

I rip my gaze from him, frantically tapping at my tablet. Though Marlo is still breathing, she might not be for much longer if I don't get her something for the wicked slash on her abdomen.

If there's one good thing about my arrangements, it's that I have no shortage of sponsors.
Medicine, gauze, bandages.
Ten seconds pass.
Then the parachute appears.

Marlo's sapphire eyes crack open, narrowing in relief when she sees the medication.
She pulls herself towards it, clumsily screwing the lid off and glopping a handful on top.
She grits her teeth in pain, but wraps a roll of gauze around the wound.
"Thanks, Odair." She croaks, before slumping to the ground.
"Yeah, yeah." I mutter, unable to repress a smile.

Two days later, Augustus has killed Chive.

Marlo is still hanging on, though I've exhausted most of my Sponsor money in trying to keep her wound from getting deadly.
If it's not over by tonight, I'm going to have to leave here and actually talk to the Sponsors.
But it doesn't look like I'm going to have to. Augustus on screen is getting closer and closer to Marlo, who is just dangling her feet in a pond, knives dangling at her hips.
Eventually, they find each other.
Gloss's jaw is locked, her gaze set on the screen.
It takes all of my effort to keep watching.

The two are fighting bloody, one of Marlo's knives dug in Augustus's stomach, and he's ripped through the new skin on Marlo's stomach. They're both bleeding heavily and panting, screaming at each other and stabbing with their knives.
Gloss winces violently as Augustus gets the upper hand, flashing his knife over Marlo's neck.
Nausea rises in my throat and I squeeze my eyes closed.
It doesn't block out the sound of my Tribute screaming, nor the Cannon, nor the victory trumpets announcing his victory.

I don't open them again until all the sounds fade away.

Mags is practically shaking, Gloss's usually perfect posture is slumping, and all the other sober Victors are murmuring to each other.

I take a deep breath.
Then another.
I knew this would happen.
I knew.
So why is it so hard?

Chapter 42: Silent Ripples

The next three years are the closest to hell I think I've ever been.

Kelton's gone. Solomon's got to work, Solene's got school.
And Annie's been avoiding me like the plague.

I was confused for the first couple of months after Marlo's death.
We'd gotten so close after my games, and I'd been expecting her to be waiting for me at the train station, honestly.

Then I figured it out.
Mags was right.
Annie didn't understand, couldn't, because I didn't- haven't told her anything.
She hates me.

But its fine. It's fine.

It's fine because she's safe.

I've only been to the Capitol for the Games, mentoring. But each time, there's at least four.

Four reasons more for her to hate me every year.

but it's fine because she's safe.

I allow the prep team to brush my face with makeup, stuff me into an obscenely tight outfit for the Reaping.
The 70th games mark the Five year anniversary of my own Victory, though the attention I've gotten in the Capitol has yet to cease.
Which is just wonderful for me, of course.
At least it helps me get lots and lots of Sponsors. Not that it helps my Tributes.
Marlo, Sal and Mack. Dead, Dead and Dead.
My tribute this year will most likely be dead, too.
Now that I'm nineteen, I've debated just drowning myself in alcohol or morphling like Haymitch and Chaff or Rota and Axel.
Except I doubt anyone would want to sleep with me if I looked like them.
Which means I need to stay blissfully present for all of this.

Celestine doesn't look a day older than she did five years ago on this very day.
The only difference, in fact, is that now we Victors have to stand on the stage as the Tributes are announced. Seven of us in total.
Perhaps we're motivation?
Win the Games, end up like us?
If this is so, I'm not sure we're a very inspiring group. Mags, old and frail and recently recovering from her stroke. Callen, scowling out into the crowd, deep lines showing on his face. The rest of them, under the influence of various substances, old, or just glaring.
And then there's me.
I suppose at first glance I look perfect.
But then you'd look closer and see the purple bags under my eyes, the hollowness in my gaze. Two things that I myself see whenever I'm brave enough to look in the mirror.
Which isn't often.

I fight the urge to run away as I take my place beside Callen. To his left are the two other male Victors. Blue, who's in his late forties and gets along best with his fellow alcohol enthusiast, Ian from District Five. And Gilly, who's nearly Mags' age but suffers from dementia, so clearly has no clue what he's doing here.
Mags stands on the other side, accompanied by Dorsal and Rae. Dorsal's in her early thirties and hates anyone or anything to do with the Capitol. I've never formally met her, as I'm now something to do with the Capitol, but she doesn't seem to be using anything. And then there's Rae, who's pupils are blown, clearly high - but she's standing relatively steadily, smirking out into the crowd like she owns the place. Quite an inspiring bunch, indeed. Celestine clears her throat.
Apparently layering is this year's trend- she looks to be wearing at least three different shirts.
I can't bring myself to find her ridiculous clothing funny anymore.
Would you laugh at the Grim Reaper if he wore a clown costume?
"Welcome, District Four!" She chirps.
Sometimes I wonder why we have eyelids and not ear-lids. I'd like to not have to hear this for the 19th time. Still, I don't have a choice.
Trying my best to drown Celestine out, I let my gaze wander out into the crowd.
As they usually do, my eyes find their way to Annie.
She's very clearly avoiding looking at me, staring directly at Celestine.
Now eighteen, this is her last year of eligibility.
Though she's refused to see me, I still send her family food, partly in thanks to all that Caprice did for me, partly because I still love her, even if she does not return the sentiment.
So I'm confident she hasn't taken any tesserae.

She looks stunning as usual- her usually curly brown hair is somehow perfectly straight. I don't know how she did it, but it looks wonderful, especially paired with the turquoise of her dress.

Finally, finally, Celestine shuts her mouth and totters over towards the massive globe. Her nails match her outfit, a different color for each finger. They swim around tauntingly as they always do, before eventually snagging one near the bottom.
She pulls it out.
Her face, despite its layers and layers of makeup pales.
Her head shakes the tiniest bit.
She's silent for a moment.
I turn to Callen, confused. He just shrugs.
And then Celestine speaks, her voice wavering.

"Annie Cresta."

The world blinks.

Once.

Twice.

No.

No. No. No. No no no no—

My knees give out.

Callen grabs me, yanking me upright just before I hit the floor.

“You’ve got to act neutral,” he hisses into my ear. “Like you don’t care.”

But I can’t. I can’t.

My ears are ringing. The room is spinning.

Annie.

Annie is going into the Games.

I can't breathe.

I can't—
There's not enough air in the square, not enough in all of Panem to make this okay.

Annie.

Annie.

Annie.

Annie, who I love.
I would do anything to stop this. Take her place, die right here and now.

Annie, Annie, Annie.

First Kelton, now her.

Everything feels far away. Muffled. Like I’m underwater, deep below the surface, too far down to ever come back up.
Not that I want to.

Annie. Annie. Annie.

Callen's death-grip on my arm is the only thing keeping me upright. I wish he'd let go. I wish he'd let me crash to the ground and shatter in a million pieces.

“Finnick,” Callen whispers, shaking me. “Pull it together. There are cameras—”

I don't care. Annie. Annie. Annie.

She blinks a couple times as if coming out of a trance. Begins to walk towards the stage.
She's better at concealing her emotions than I, clearly, as she almost looks bored.
Except for her eyes. She's as terrified as me.

I can’t think. I can’t breathe. There’s a roaring in my ears like the ocean in a storm and I think I’m going to be sick. My stomach twists so violently I double over, barely catching myself against Callen’s shoulder.

Annie. Annie. Annie.

Her gaze locks with mine.
She's looking at me for the first time in months.

Like I can do something to stop this.
I'm completely helpless.
I'm useless and I hate it.
The girl I love is going to die, and there is nothing that I can do to stop it.

Chapter 43: Under the Veil

Summary:

Dual Perspective- Annie and Finnick :)

FINNICK

It's quiet on the train.

Annie is nowhere to be found.

Cody Aestus, the tiny scrap of a boy that was reaped alongside her, is practically in Mags' arms.

I'm staring aimlessly out the window, watching the scenery ripple past.
Mags is very, very worried about me.
Shockingly, so is Celestine.

The only person I can think of is Annie.

She still won't speak to me, even though I'm to be her mentor.
No matter, though.
I may not be able to protect her in the arena, but I can sure as hell get her sponsors.
A rustling behind me tells me that Mags is sending Cody away

"I'm going to go take a nap, Finnick." Cody murmurs, massive innocent eyes dropping as he fights a yawn.
I manage a muttered farewell in response.
He deserves my civility.
Soft footsteps fade away as he walks towards his room, muffling a yawn.
"Finn." Mags' voice is garbled as she rises on shaking legs, after affects of the stroke.
"I'm fine." I insist, sharper than I mean to.
"No, not fine." She retorts, limping towards me.
I force myself to face her.
"Okay, you're right. I'm not. But there's nothing we can do to change that, is there? She's going into the Games. All I can do is whore myself around to get her sponsors. She's going to die , Mags."
Mags' eyes narrow and she regards me almost thoughtfully.
"If..." She looks around carefully.
Then leans in so her graying hair brushes my cheek.
"If there were... some way to save her. Even if it involved breaking countless Capitol rules. Would you take it?" She breathes, quiet enough that no camera would even have a chance of picking it up.
I nod rapidly. "Anything." I whisper. "Anything."
Mags leans back.
And nods. "I'll see what I can do." She promises in her normal voice, unclear and stuttering, but perfectly understandable to me.

There might be a way for Annie to live.

This knowledge is the only thing that keeps me from shattering completely throughout the train ride.

Later, both Cody and Annie sport puffy, red eyes. Of course, I do, too, but Mags pretends not to notice.
Instead, she mumbles instructions for what to do when we arrive in the Capitol.
They both listen attentively, though Cody's chin trembles with fear when she mentions the parade.
Annie smiles reassuringly.
"Don't worry, I'll be right there. I won't let you fall." She promises, reaching over and clasping his small hand.
My heart positively aches.
Annie, oh, Annie.

They're both whisked away when we arrive at the Capitol.
Mags and I are led to the chariots, where I notice the other mentors chatting.
Gloss and Cashmere immediately narrow in on me.
"What the hell is wrong with you, Odair?" Cashmere demands, looking me up and down with piercing blue eyes.
Mags doesn't bother trying to speak, just glaring at her.
Cashmere backs up a step, raising her hands in surrender.
Then Gloss, too, frowns, matching eyes running over my face.
"Seriously, Finnick. You don't.... you don't look well."
I look away. "Annie." I finally breathe.
Cashmere frowns. "Your- your tribute?"
I face them. Gloss looks positively sick. "She's not just your tribute, is she."
I shake my head wordlessly.
Cashmere gnashes her teeth. Gloss is practically trembling with rage.
But neither of them say anything.
They just turn to Mags.
Who nods.
Just slightly.
But enough for me to know that the classically beautiful brother and sister pair from District One will help me save my Annie.

Beetee and Wiress come next.
The Mentors of Three don't even ask anything.
They take one look at my face.
Then turn to Mags.
She nods again.

Rota and Axel. Seeder and Chaff.
They approach.
They ask a silent question.
And Mags nods.

Finally it's Haymitch Abernathy. He's drunk as always, swaggering up to us and reeking of beer.
But Mags smiles at him anyhow.
Smiles at him even as he stops mere inches from me.
I try not to flinch away from the bitterness of his breath.
"You- you smell like salt, boy." He slurs, grey eyes focusing on my own.
I arch a brow, milking the arrogant flirt angle for all it's worth. "Yes, I am from District Four." I drawl, looking unimpressed down at him.
Mags rolls her eyes at me.
But Haymitch doesn't seem to care. "Not like the sea. Like... like tears."
I flinch a little, taken aback. But Haymitch isn't done.
"She your girl, Annie Cresta?"
"She's-" I falter.
What is Annie?
Not my girl, but I love her just the same.
"She's my everything." I say finally, looking, really looking into his eyes.
He's intoxicated, for sure, but something else glimmers in their depths.
Sadness. Rage. Grief.
Haymitch cocks his head to the side.
"Don't want another me, do we." It's not a question, and with the words he strides off.
I turn to Mags, confused.
She wipes away a single tear, but nods.

We don't get a chance to say much else, as Annie and Cody are being led out by Caprice's old stylist and Kortney.
I wonder if the man realizes the girl he dresses up for slaughter is now as old as her big sister when he did much the same for her.

Either way, he's done an excellent job on her outfit.
She's clearly a siren, her hair blowing around her like she's deep underwater, dramatic eyeliner drawn up on her lids, and a clingy silk green dress that also seems to move in slow motion.
She's so ethereally beautiful it hurts.

I force my gaze away from her.

My client of the night is approaching, anyway, and I can't let him see how much Annie means to me.
So I let Mags assist both Cody and Annie onto the chariot. Force myself to laugh and flirt and charm.
Even though I can feel her eyes burning a hole into my back.

ANNIE

I don't think I've ever been more terrified in my life.
Well.
That's not true.
There's probably been three times when I was more afraid.
One, when I learned that Caprice was going into the Games. Two, when she was almost killed by the Girl from 11's knives. And Three... three, when Finnick was on the ground with a knife in his thigh. And I thought he was going to die right there.

Something is very, very wrong with him.
He looks... hollow. Empty.
The only thing I want to do is wrap my arms around him and demand he tell me what's wrong so I can go murder it.
But I suppose he's chosen the Capitol Elite over me.
Which is so unlike him, I almost don't believe it's happening.
Finnick Odair is no snob, no cheater.
Something is wrong.
Its even clearer here. He's laughing and pufferfishing, but he keeps sneaking glances over at me. All throughout the parade. And when Snow was speaking. And even as he's being dragged away by some snob.
Longing. That's the only thing I see. Longing as he looks at me, barely veiled disgust as he observes the much older man who had been cooing in his ear all night.
But then why is he going with him?
I'm so fucking confused.
But then again, being confused is better than being completely terrified, so I suppose I'll take it.

I'm collapsed on my ridiculously soft bed, wearing ridiculously soft pyjamas after eating a ridiculously massive meal.
This place is... well. Fucking ridiculous.

I haven't seen Fin all night. I don't want to think about where he is, but my brain keeps going there.
I can't sleep, obviously.
I wonder if Caprice slept in this very bed.
Grief hits me with a pang.
I miss my sister.
I miss her so, so, much that sometimes I can barely breathe.
What do I do, Caprice? I plead silently, begging a person I know I can always trust for her help.
But she doesn't respond, because she can't because she's-

Somewhere in our floor, a door slams open.
Panicked yelling insues.
I don't recognize the voice- deep and male and very, very angry.
Terrified, I shoot to my feet and burst open the door.

I round the corner and see...

Him.

Finnick.

Mags is practically shaking in the corner, some blonde man on the floor next to him.
And as for him...
His wrists, ankles and neck are scraped raw.
Bruises are already starting to appear on the rest of him.

And his eyes.
And his eyes.

His eyes are wild—haunted, but there’s something else in them, too. A flicker of pain so deep it tears at my chest, and beneath that, a desperate, almost pleading look like he’s drowning and I’m the only one who can save him.
The blonde man's head whips towards me.
Finnick's eyes follow his slowly, tiredly.

They widen when he sees me.

"Annie." He gasps. "No. Annie. You can't see me like- You can't see me like this."

"Finnick." I breathe, the silent treatment I've been giving him forgotten. "Finnick, what- what happened?"

"Annie, go back to your room. Annie, please. Please. You have your Games, you don't need anything else to worry about." He begs, turning dull eyes away from me.

Horror rises in my chest as I behold him.
I was right. I am right. Something is very, very, wrong.

“I’m not worried about my Games right now,” I whisper. “I’m worried about you.”

He flinches. Not dramatically. Not even visibly to someone who didn’t know him—but I do. I see the barely-there twitch in his fingers, the way his jaw clenches as if bracing for a blow.

"I-I- Annie, I-" He swallows, his wrecked throat bobbing. "I don't have a choice. ."
"About wha-" The color drains from my face. I take him in. The areas where he's bleeding. The longing, the pain in his eyes. Kelton's death. Those roses.

 

No.

 

"No." I breathe, whirling my head to Mags. I need her to laugh and tell me that I'm being ridiculous. But she just beholds me sadly.
The strange blonde man has narrowed his eyes in sympathy.

"....Fin. Fin, no. No, no, no, no, no. Tell me I'm wrong."

But he does not. Finnick only hangs his head, shame apparent on all of his beautiful features.

I take a shaky step forward, my voice barely more than a desperate whisper.
“Why, Fin? Why are you letting them do this to you?”

His eyes lift slowly, meeting mine, and in them, I see the weight he’s been carrying—crushing, relentless.
“They said… if I didn’t…” His voice cracks, like the memory itself is tearing him apart. “If I refused, they’d come for you. For Mags. For my family.”

My hand flies to my mouth.

No.

"I- I said no, though, at first. I didn't know what the consequences would be. But then Kelton..." He trails off, his voice cutting off in a choked sob.
"It's my fault he's dead, Annie. And it's probably somehow my fault that you're here. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry." His shoulders shake with tears, and I feel my own eyes beginning to sting.

"Oh, god. Oh, god, Fin, no. None of this is your fault. None." I insist, rushing towards and dropping to my knees beside him.
The strange blonde man rises to his feet and helps Mags out, leaving the two of us alone.

But he still doesn't look up.
"I'm sorry, Fin." I breathe, letting the tears fall down my face. "I'm so sorry. I didn't understand, I- I should have been there for you, I should have figured it out, I should have...."
Shame and guilt pour through me. I left him to deal with this, let him go through this alone all because I was too stupid to realize what the fuck was going on.
Finnick's eyes slowly travel up to meet mine.
"You weren't supposed to understand, Ann." He whispers, glancing down at his raw hands. "You would have been in danger if you had."
I let a tear trickle down my cheek.
"I don't care." I say desperately, reaching towards him.
Finnick gives a hint of a smile. "But I do, Annie. I - I love you. I never stopped loving you, even when..."

"I know. " I say simply, gently cupping his cheek in my palm. He stares at me, his gaze full of grief and sadness, but also adoration and love.
I realize the truth with a pang, the knowledge coursing through me, filling me, like a drowning man inhaling air.
"I never stopped loving you, either. I missed you, so much, Fin." I say, telling him as much as me.
Because it's true. I've missed him. I needed him. And he, clearly needs me.
Well. He's got me.
And I don't intend to let go.
He smiles then, a true, real smile, despite the purple bruises that now dot his neck. "I missed you, too." He breathes, melting into my embrace.

I wrap my arms around him carefully, mindful of every wound, every wince he doesn’t let himself show. He’s trembling, even now, like his body’s still caught in whatever horrors they dragged him through. I press my cheek to his hair, breathing him in. Salt, sweat, pain... but still him. Still Finnick. Still my Finnick.
“You’re safe now,” I murmur, even though it’s a lie. A soft, impossible lie. No one is ever safe here. But I say it anyway, because right now, he needs to hear it.
His arms come up slowly, uncertainly, around my waist. Like he doesn’t trust himself to hold on without breaking me. Or himself.
"Annie." He breathes after a minute, burying his head in my shoulder. “Don’t leave,” he whispers. It’s barely audible. “Please, Annie. Not yet.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” I say, threading my fingers through his hair. “Not now. Not ever.” Another lie. My Games are soon- so, so, soon. But if he can survive this, I can survive the Games. He needs me to.

We stay there for what must be hours before the blonde man- who Finnick calls Gloss- carries Finn to his bed.
Gloss doesn't object when I climb in beside him, wrapping my arms around him and pulling him close to me.
Fin's breathing slows, asleep within minutes.
I expect nightmares, expect my dreams to be full of what might very well be my future.
But I fall asleep within seconds, too.

_____

The Tourmalayne siblings have a bit of a reputation at home.

Cashmere is the soft one. Gloss is the stone cold killer who would do anything for her.
And he would, of course.
But Cash is most definitely not the softer sibling among them - he is. He's the one who cries after every reaping, who runs into her room in tears at night.
But without her? Without her, he'd be ruined.
And he knows the same is true for Finnick and Annie.
He seems himself in the Victor from Four.
"We cannot let that girl die." He says, his voice hushed but powerful all the same.
Mags nods grimly, pauses for a second, and then speaks in the gargled voice of hers. "Plutarch." She rasps.
Gloss bobs his head in agreement, mind racing.

He doesn't like the Gamemaker much.
But if Plutarch Heavensbee could save the girl...
The least he can do is deal with Heavensbee for Finnick’s sake—especially knowing Odair would sell his soul to Snow himself to protect Annie.

Gloss knows this because he would do much the same for Cash.
Finnick's just another him. Too pretty, too perfect, loved ones too vulnerable.
And he'd be damned if he let the kid break.

Chapter 44: Dam-med If You Do

I wake with Annie in my arms.
I freeze, shocked, for about half a second before remembering all that happened last night.

I can't bring myself to regret that she's found out, even if it puts her in danger, even if it is a potentially lethal distraction before her Games.
Maybe I'm a terrible person for that, but it's hard to be angry about a situation that ends with Annie.

I glance at the alarm clock for a second. Annie still has two ish hours before her training, so I allow myself a moment to just look at her.
Her artificially straightened hair from the other day has returned to its natural curl, splaying across her pillow and invading mine, too.
Long, dark eyelashes rest upon her lids, fluttering slowly as she breathes. Utterly at peace.

I stare at her, mesmerised by the repetitive rise and fall of her chest, the way her breath blows a little curl up and down and up and down on her cheek.
After a couple of minutes, her eyes open.
"Hey, Fin." She murmurs sleepily, nuzzling her head against my chest.
"Morning, Annie." I say softly, surveying her anxiously. "How are you doing?"
Annie's silent for long enough I wonder if she's fallen back asleep.
"Scared, I guess. But mostly really fucking angry." She admits.
I smile a little. "Use the anger at training. Make the Gamemakers wonder what sparks the fire in your eyes."
Annie winces. "I can't be held accountable for any broken weapons or dead Gamemakers." She warns.
Rolling my eyes, I wrap my arms around her again. "If you must kill someone, try to avoid Plutarch Heavensbee." I warn.

Annie makes a grumbling sound of assent. "Anyone in particular to aim for?"
I shudder. "Any of the rest of them."
"Can't wait."

"Don't let Annie murder anyone." I mutter out the corner of my mouth to Cody on our way to training.
Cody blinks up at me. "I'll try, but no promises." He says cheerfully, practically skipping beside me. "I'm so excited to meet all the other Tributes. I've always wanted to know what goes on in the other Districts."
I have to dig my teeth deep into my lip to keep from crying. "Just be careful. They might not all be very nice." I warn.

Cody smiles. "I know."
Annie walks up to my side. "Who do you think are going to be forming the Career pack this year?" She asks, glancing down at Cody and then back at me.
I think back to the Recaps. I wasn't really paying attention, but I recall the girl from Two lunging forwards to volunteer and both from One looking powerful. The rest were somewhat unremarkable- though I didn't like the look of the girl from Five nor the boy from Eight, either. "Probably One and Two. Maybe the girl from Five or the boy from Eight." I muse.
Cody looks worriedly at Annie. "Are you going to join them, Annie?" He asks.
Annie shakes her head immediately. "Nah. I think I'll stick with you, little Cod." She says, reaching down to ruffle his hair.
Cody scowls, swatting her hand away. "I'm not little. I'm twelve and an eighth." He protests.

Annie's face goes stormy. "Of course you are." She says simply. "Ready to go in?"
Cody bounces in excitement. "Yes, yes, yes!" He cheers. Annie grips his hand and they step out of the elevator together.
I grit my teeth as the elevator door slides shut again. God, I hate training- I'm not allowed to go in and help.
Mags reaches over and presses a button that sends us shooting towards the mentor room.
I lock my eyes on Annie's shrinking form, watching as she diligently listens to Atala's spiel.
"Think they'll be okay?" I ask Mags, turning to look at her.
Mags nods reassuringly, resting a hand on my shoulder.

But it doesn't help much, and neither does the grim expression that appears on Enobaria's face when she sees me.
"What?" I demand swiveling to see if her fellow mentor, Brutus, will have any clues on his face.
Brutus shrugs his massive shoulders before heading in Gloss' direction.
Enobaria runs a hand through her dark hair, worrying her bottom lip with a razor sharp fang. "My tribute this year... she's lethal." She mutters under her breath, glaring at Rota who is being violently ill behind us.
I frown, trying not to gag at the smell. "Yeah, most kids from Two are. Why?"
Enobaria shakes her head. "No, she's, like, me level lethal." She hisses, baring her teeth to emphasize the point.
I feel the color drain from my face. "Will she join the Careers?"
Enobaria bobs her head. "Definitely, but she's already told me she'll stab them all the first chance she gets. Tell your Annie to steer clear." She warns.
"Thanks." I breathe, offering the Victor a small smile.
Enobaria makes a face. "Don't thank me yet. Let's see what Plutarch has to say."
I start. "He's here? Shouldn't he be watching training?"
Enobaria rolls her eyes. "Yeah, but he's convinced Snow to film us talking about our Tributes and stuff."
"As exciting as that sounds, I presume he's really here for other things."
"Obviously."

And indeed, Mags is beckoning for me.
"We're not being filmed, are we?" Gloss demands, stretching his long legs in front of him as he settles down on a chaise.
Plutarch shakes his head. "No."

Cashmere leans forwards. "So then what's the plan, Gamemaker?" She demands.
Plutarch looks slightly taken aback, but begins all the same, dropping his voice so low we- Cashmere, Gloss, Enobaria, Rota, Axel, Chaff, Seeder, Beetee, Wiress, Haymitch, Mags and I- have to strain in order to hear.
"The arena is quite unique, actually. There's an absolutely massive lake on the far right side, where dozens and dozens of rivers stem through it like veins." He begins.
Cashmere raises a brow. "And?"
"I'm getting there, Miss. Tourmalayne. The Gamemakers want the ability to isolate and control the amount of water in the arena. So just before the right-most forcefield, there's an enormous dam holding back millions of gallons of water. It works to energize the entire arena, as well as allowing rain and controlling any and all water sourc-"
"I'm failing to see how this is relevant." Enobaria interrupts.
Plutarch sighs. "If you would just let me get to the point..."
Enobaria scowls, but sits back again.
"Anyway, underneath the arena, buried in the rock walls, are the generators and circuit lines that power everything—the force fields, the environmental controls, the weapons caches, the hovercraft landing systems. Everything."
Unsurprisingly, our resident genius, Beetee, catches on then, fiddling with his glasses. "You're suggesting we destroy the dam and waterlog the system." He mumbles.
Plutarch nods. "Exactly. The tributes would have time to flee, and the destruction of Snow's precious Hunger Games arena would certainly ignite a flame big enough to start something real."

I take a second to wrap my brain around it. "And how, exactly, are we going to bring the dam down?" I demand.
Plutarch's expression turns grim. "That's the most dangerous part. Last time we tried... something like this, we had Tributes on the inside start the chain of events."
At his words, Beetee, Haymitch, Wiress and Mags pale.
"But the results- obviously- weren't ideal." He continues in a rush, sending the four of them sympathetic glances. "So this time, the interference will be entirely external."

"Fine, but it's not like we can just sneak into the arena, lay a bomb on the dam and be on our merry way." Gloss points out, shooting Haymitch, who has turned a shade of green, a concerned look.

"No." Plutarch agrees. "But we can drive a hovercraft meant to retrieve bodies into the arena, drop a bomb on the dam, and then be on our merry way."
Beetee frowns a little. "So we'd need to hijack a Hovercraft, have someone drive it into the arena and use an explosive to wreck the dam." He murmurs, turning to Rota and Axel.
"The two of you are from District Six. You'd know how to drive a hovercraft, correct?"
Axel just stares at him blearily, too far under the influence to make out his words, but Rota nods.
"I could drive one of those things in my sleep." She promises.

Beetee nods, mumbling to himself for a second before turning and glancing towards Luna and Ian, who are closely monitoring their tablets and shooting occasional glances towards us. "They'd know more about dams than the rest of us, being from Five." He points out. "Their knowledge could be useful in terms of its infrastructure and which parts of it might be the weakest."

I frown a little, trying to make sense of it all. "None of this will matter if we can't manage to get Rota in the Hovercraft." I argue, shooting a glance at the sickly Victor.
Plutarch grimances. "I know it's far from ideal, but our best shot would be taking out the actual Pilot and having Rota take her place."
Enobaria grins at that. "Leave the taking out part to me." She promises.
Plutarch winces slightly. "Not taking out like that, Miss Varek, though I applaud your enthusiasm."
He turns to me. "If Mr. Odair could use his talents to lure her away, we could get Rota onto the craft without bloodshed."

I give him a flat stare. "Oh, lucky me." I deadpan, rolling my eyes.
Enobaria scowls. "I like my idea better." She grumbles.
"Unfortunately, if you were to murder her, it would show up on cameras and condemn you if this plan goes south. If Finnick can get her away in one piece, it'll look like he's simply being his flirtatious self." Gloss says somewhat reluctantly, shooting me an apologetic glance.
I scoff. "As excited as I am to be my flirtatious self, there are too many ways in which this could go wrong. What if she's incredibly loyal to her husband, or is only interested in women or whatever?"
"Mr and Miss Tourmalayne will be with you in case you need to resort to Miss Varek's original idea." Plutarch promises.

Cashmere grins deviously. "Too right we will be."

Haymitch, still looking slightly queasy, speaks up for the first time. "That's all well and good, and I ain't never seen a dam before, but won't the arena flood if it breaks?"
"Yes, that's the point." Enobaria snaps, rolling her eyes.
Haymitch scowls. "Yeah, thanks, Two, I got that. I mean won't the Tributes drown?"
"Some might." Plutarch admits. "But unless we're really unlucky, the system will break before they're all dead."

I start to feel as sick as Haymitch looks. Annie. Cody. Will our plan to save them really be the thing that dooms them?
I look at Plutarch, my voice surprisingly strong. "Is there any way to protect them?"
He shakes his head. "Tell them to stick to high ground, I suppose. And we're going to need someone to die close enough to the dam that the hovercraft has an excuse to pass over it. So they'd also need to stay alive until then. It's a gamble, but it's the only way. I'd know. Every single time I get a new arena plan, I make note of each and every potential mean of destruction."

I squeeze my eyes shut. Mags rests a hand on my shoulder, but I force myself to breathe.

In. Out. In. Out.
The odds are still far better than they'd be without Plutarch's plan.

We just need some dam good luck.

Chapter 45: Lethal Smiles

Cody is talking a mile a minute, as usual.
It seems his sweet personality has attracted more than friends: It's won him allies.

Kian Coulter, an 18 year old from District Five.
I'll admit, I'm slightly worried when I remember Kian from the Recaps- he's quite tall, probably at least my height, and he's also old enough to be a threat.

The last thing I'd want would be for Cody's allies to turn on him.

I shoot Annie a concerned glance.
She barely represses a grin. "He's a total nerd." She whispers under her breath. "And his eyes practically turned into hearts when he saw Cody. Has a little brother at home, I think."
I frown. "And it's not an act?" I muse.
Annie shakes her head vehemently. "Unless he meant to nearly take his own head off, I doubt it."

I smile a little, making a mental note to talk to Ian about him.
Though I suppose if he'll be sticking with my Tributes, he'll be heading to high ground, anyway.

"He gave me all of his seaweed at lunch! I think it's probably because he's never had any before and because it's an acired- wait, what did you call it, again, Annie?"
"Acquired." Annie supplies, her mouth twitching.
"Yeah, it's an acquired taste, but either way, it was really nice of him! Oh, and he let me try on his glasses- it was so weird, everyone was all blurry and I could barely see a foot in front of me! I asked Kian if that was what it was like for him normally and he said yeah, but it's okay because he's always wearing his glasses. Apparently they'll be useful in the arena, too, with making fires and stuff, which is also super cool!"
Cody gasps for breath, giving my ears a second of a break.
I nod dumbly, understanding about half of what he just said. The kid's enthus, that's for sure.
"Any idea what he just said?" I mutter out the corner of my mouth to Annie.
"Absolutely zero." She breathes back.

Annie and I share a faintly exhausted, amused look. Cody might be the smallest tribute here, but his energy is enough to power a District Five generator.

Ian from Five, Kian's mentor, seems to think so, too.
He squints at me from behind his vibrant hair.
"Yours are the ball of sunshine and the pretty one, right?"
I scowl, but manage a nod.
Ian smiles a little. "Too bad she's going into the Games."
I grit my teeth hard enough that I can almost hear them cracking, but I manage to keep a civil exterior.
I'd much rather be dealing with Luna, the other District Five Victor, but unfortunately she's mentoring Alix, the female tribute from their District who Annie's informed me was dangerous enough to muscle her way into the Career Pack.
"Yeah." I choke out, reminding myself that he's Kian's mentor and also might be able to help me with the dam thing.
Ian frowns a little. "Well, I doubt any of them will last long enough for us to need to talk Sponsors, but I'll be with Luna if you need me."
He's gone without another word.
I dislike him immensely.

The second and third days of training go pretty well for Annie, Cody, and Kian, though I'm getting slightly worried about Enobaria's girl.

My worries are only confirmed as we begin to watch the Gamemaker scores. 9 and 10 for District One, 9 for the Boy from Two... and 11 for the Girl.
I wince a little.
Thats pretty much as high as you can get- the Gamemakers only give out 12's if they're trying to make the Tribute a target.
She must be as good as Enobaria says, then.

I'm hoping and praying Ian isn't right about their survival chances as Cody's face flashes across the screen- a 6. Honestly, better than I was expecting, considering his age and temperament.
Mags seems to agree, extending her hand towards Cody in a high five.
He enthusiastically slaps it, causing a ringing through the room as Annie pulls an 8.

A smile tugs across my face.
Not so good that the Careers might hunt her down, but good enough to attract Sponsors and make it clear she's no easy target.

Perfect.

"Nice job, Ann." I whisper into her hair.
Annie beams. "I was just fucking around with the knots, really. If I tried tridents, I'd have looked stupid compared to you. And you know I'm kind of hit or miss when it comes to spears."
I laugh a little. "You ebb more on the miss side, I fear."
Annie huffs. "Rude." She pouts for a few seconds before brightening.
"I wish I could have done some laps for the Gamemakers. I bet I would have scored at least a 9 if they could see how fast I can swim."
"Probably." I admit. "I doubt any of them have been in an ocean in their lives."
Annie shrugs a little. "It's not like swimming will be of much use to me, anyway." She concedes, focusing back on the TV to see Kian receiving a 7. "Unless the arena's just a giant pond."

I refrain from telling her that swimming might very well save her life, seeing as we're surrounded by cameras.
I'll find a way to get her the information, though. Not all of it, because that would put her in serious danger.
But enough to understand the importance of staying on high ground.

Kian's district partner scores a 9.
The rest of the scores are mediocre, excepting the boy from 8, who also scored an 8.

Cody gives his input on each Tribute, describing their temperament in training and what he thinks they would have done in their session. He goes into extreme detail for most of them- enough to tell me that he's either approached them and struck conversation, or just observed them diligently enough to notice that "Demeter's left handed," and "Locke's really good with plants."

I turn to Annie. "Has he talked to each and every one of them?" I demand.
Annie shrugs. "Most of them. Kian and I didn't let him go up to One or Two, but I'm pretty sure he snuck over to One at some point. Something about gemstones or whatever."
"Well, he's basically got an encyclopedia on them all. Might be useful in terms of weakness and stuff." I muse.
Annie smiles a little, but its bittersweet. "I feel bad for him, actually. He cares so much about every single one of us... I don't think it's sunk in that we're all going to die."

I turn to observe the Cameramen. Occasionally, they film Tributes watching the Recaps, but they seem to be packing up.
Just in case, I stay silent for a moment longer.
"Not necessarily." The words are so quiet I don't think she's heard, until she gives me a quizzical expression.
She's not dumb enough to inquire about it out loud, just cocks her head to the side and narrows her green eyes.
"I can't tell you any more. But stay on high ground. And don't go near the Girl from Two," I breathe, willing her to understand, willing her to obey.

Annie still looks confused, but she just nods. And something like hope sparks in her eyes.

____


"So, Nyke, you got the highest training score. What do you think of that?" Caesar's hair is hot pink this year, making him look like some sort of sick Barbie doll.
Enobaria's tribute, short and packed with muscle, gives a casual shrug. "I mean, it's not like it was a surprise to anyone." She drawls, leaning back in the chair and giving Caesar a look of disdain.

The host lets out a delighted laugh. "So you'd say you're confident, then?"

Nyke scoffs a little. "I'll be out of that arena in a week, tops." She says, her voice all too casual for what she's describing.
Caesar cackles his enjoyment. "Woo-hoo! Well, I suppose we'll see, won't we? Everybody, Nyke Marell, District Two!"

I glance at Annie, trying to see if there's any fear on her face. But her expression is just bored as she regards the cocksure Tribute, probably reciting what she intends to say to Caesar in her mind.

When it's Cody's turn, he has the audience laughing and 'aww'-ing at his every word.
Caesar barely gets a word in, but even he seems content to let Cody speak, looking almost impressed as he recounts stories about adventures back home and all the people he's met here.

Annie's up next, dressed in soft shades of green and blue that make her look downright ethereal.
She answers Caesar with confidence, doing wonderfully on the angle we worked on.

A soft, hauntingly beautiful outside- but a core of steel when she's pressed.
Just like Caprice.

Annie had confided in me earlier that she'd hoped Caesar wouldn't mention her sister, but of course we weren't nearly lucky enough for that. "So, Miss. Annie- am I correct in assuming that Caprice Cresta, from the 65th Games, was your older sister?"
Annie stiffens a little bit. I wince.
But she takes the question in stride, nodding a little.
"She was," Annie says quietly. Her voice isn’t shaky—it’s steady, controlled—but there’s something in her eyes.
Not just grief and sadness, though they're both there.
There's rage. Such rage.
Caesar and the audience, however, don't seem to notice. Neither does my patron of the night, who somehow managed to weasel his way to sitting with us Mentors.
Mags is tossing him scowls every couple of seconds, but I'm too entranced by Annie to really pay attention.

"She was quite beloved in the Capitol, I think." Caesar continues, oblivious to the fury that sentence alights in Annie's eyes. "What do you think she'd tell you if she were here?"

Annie's quiet for a second, and I can basically hear what's going through her head.
"Well, Caesar, I think Caprice would tell me to punch you in the face and then blow up this entire place."

Annie smiles sweetly. Too sweetly. It’s the kind of smile Caprice used to wear when she was holding back something sharp.
"I think she'd tell me that my anger is a weapon. And I should wield it against those who really deserve it." She says, her voice soft in contrary to those words.
I bite back a smirk. To anyone in the audience, that would be the other tributes.
I know it for what it is.

But Caesar just lets out an indulgent laugh, clapping his hands together like Annie’s just made a clever joke. “Oh, how poetic!” he trills. “A fire beneath the waves! I like that.”

The audience laughs, too, as though Annie's words were a charming, dramatic vow. They think she's talking strategy, about using her emotions to outsmart the other Tributes. No one seems to notice the steel in her eyes.
Except Mags, who's wizened mouth twitches. Approval. Pride, even. It can be hard to tell, with Mags, but I know she's caught the undercurrent.
Caesar leans in, lowering his tone like he's sharing a secret with the whole room. “Do you think you’ll make it as far as your sister did?”

The question lands like a stone in the silence.

Annie holds his gaze. “No,” she says plainly.

The audience is hushed, murmuring to themselves in shock and surprise. Caesar blinks once, confused.
Until Annie smiles again- a soft expression, but dangerous all the same. An shark in a fish's clothing.
"I plan to make it farther."
The audience bursts into applause. They take it as confidence, as charm. They love a girl who dares to win.

And no one—not Caesar, not the Capitol, not the audience drunk on pageantry—realizes what that smile means, who precisely she plans to wield her anger against.

But I do.

My mouth twists into a smile as well.
And I can practically see Caprice's wicked grin beside me.

Chapter 46: Five, Four, Three

Celestine comes to my door bright and early.

"Rise and shine, Finnick!" She chirps, chipper as always. "We've got a big day ahead of us!"
I roll over, careful not to disturb Annie beside me.
She barely got any sleep last night, and I'm not going to be the one to rouse her.
Not now. Not on the day of the Hunger Games.

I have never been more terrified in my life.

Annie's going into the Games today. She's going into the Games. I can barely move.
But I manage.
I manage because she needs me to stay strong.
She needs me to get her sponsors.

Celestine knocks again, louder and more insistent. I scowl at the door as Annie jerks awake.
"We're coming." I snap, sharper than I intended.
Celestine's silent. "Is Annie in there with you?" She asks finally.
I don't care enough to worry about appearances and gossip and whatnot. "Yes."

A beat of silence. "Oh. Okay. Um- be out in five minutes. Kortney and Tarquin need time to prepare." She mumbles, the sound of urgent footsteps receding.
Annie lets out a muffled laugh. "There'll be articles about that by noon." She says, something like satisfaction weaving through her words.
I roll my eyes. "Oh, don't sound so proud of yourself, Ann. Last week there was an entire magazine about how I'm apparently dating Gloss." Annie shrugs a little. "I mean, you could probably do worse." She muses, rising out of bed and stretching her arms above her head.

I become very interested in the floor. Her position is showing off a lot more skin than might be considered proper, and I'm sure my cheeks have turned a vibrant red.

Annie, ever observant, notices, laughing. "Now, now, Odair, save that for Gloss." She mocks.
"Shut up." I mutter, my face flaming.
Annie just laughs harder. "You know, if I knew the sight of my stomach would shut you up so thoroughly, I might have just walked around shirtless."

It takes a lot of self restraint not to imagine that .

Annie flounces towards me and taps me on the nose. "You're cute when you're flustered."

It is possible that I have spontaneously combusted.
It feels like it, anyway.

I mumble something unintelligible, my brain completely and totally scrambled.
"Better get dressed, Fin." Annie teases, still laughing. "We wouldn't want to give Celestine too much article material."

My cheeks are still flaming red and Annie is still giggling when we emerge from my room.

Cody's eyebrows practically shoot off of his forehead when he sees us, but it dissolves into a wicked grin to match Mags' at his side.
"Not a word." I warn as I slump beside Mags. "Not a single word."
"About what?" Cody says innocently, still smirking up a storm.

Neither of them are smiling an hour later.
Cody is just babbling to Mags- talking seems to calm him down.
Annie, on the other hand, is silent- her hand clasped in mine and her breaths too rapid.
I might instruct her to take deep breaths, except I myself am having trouble breathing, so I really can't talk.

I have never been more terrified in my life.
Annie, Annie, Annie, Annie.

It's like everything is underwater. Distorted, too slow, rippling.
I can't move or breathe as Tarquin appears, beckoning for Annie.
She turns to me, eyes wild with terror.
"Annie." I rasp, forcing myself to meet her gaze. "It's going to be okay. Stay on high ground. Stick with Kian and Cody, away from the Careers. I'll get you sponsors. Just be clever. Use that brain of yours. Alright?"
Annie nods weakly, her whole body practically trembling.
She turns to go but then thinks better of it, turning back and launching herself into my arms.
I grip her tightly, my hands fisting the back of her nightshirt.
Annie glances around, and then turns back to me, pressing her lips gently against mine. "Bye, Fin." She breathes.
"No. Not bye. I'll see you soon, Ann. I'll see you soon." I say forcefully, breathing her in and trying to memorize every inch of her.
The curl of her hair. The fire, the spark of shrewd intelligence in her green eyes. The twelve freckles that dot her left cheek, the fifteen on her right.
Annie smiles at that, nodding weakly. "Yeah. I'll see you soon."

And with one last squeeze, she rises to her feet and follows Tarquin out the door.

I can barely breathe.
The air is too thin, somehow- like I'm drowning in voices and silk and expensive perfumes.
I gasp for a breath that doesn't quite reach my lungs, willing my hands to stop shaking.
But they don't.
I can't control my body.
I can't protect Annie.
I can't I can't I can't I can't I can't-

"Finnick?" Mags' voice cuts through my panic like a fin through the waves. "Hey. Finnick, look at me."
I force my gaze up to hers.
Her eyes are narrowed in sympathy, tears budding in the corners.
"Breathe. In. Out." She instructs.
The sound of her voice, garbled and mumbled as it is, calms me with it's familiarity.
Mags is here. I'm okay. Mags is here.

I exhale slowly, letting my head drop to my knees.
"I'm sorry." Mags says simply.
"Me, too."

The Mentors Room seems unusually hot this year.
Maybe it's because Haymitch, Seeder, Chaff and Rota have clustered around Mags. Maybe it's because Beetee keeps sending me searching looks. Or maybe it's because of who's face is on my tablet.

Annie's pedestal is stationed to the left of the Cornucopia, next to the Girl from Three and the Boy from Ten.
Directly behind her is one of many rivers, which truly do look like veins.
Annie's eyes dart around frantically as the heartbeat pounds, and with every thump, I can feel my face draining of color and my own heart sinking.
"Five seconds." Ian announces, flicking his red hair out of his eyes.
Enobaria rolls her eyes. "Believe it or not, Sparky, we also can read the screen."
Ian scowls, but isn't stupid enough to retort.
We all watch in silence as the countdown ticks away.

I sink to my knees in front of the screen, my eyes flicking from my tablet to the mounted television.
Four. Three. Two. One.
"Let the 70th Hunger Games... begin."

My eyes are locked on Annie. I refuse to look away, refuse to blink, as if locking my eyes on her will somehow protect her.
Quick as a hare, Annie darts towards caves that dot the arena behind her, not giving the Cornucopia behind her a second glance.
My heart begins to return to its normal speed as she nears safety, but it triples again as she whips around.

Whatever she sees, it makes her eyes widen.
And she begins to tear back towards the danger.
My breathing hitches, and panic pours through me so quickly I nearly black out.
Then the big screen flashes and I see exactly what is drawing Annie back into the fray.

Kian.

As we watch, he shoves Cody away from an attacker, sparing the younger tribute a lethal blow, but taking a knife slash against his own abdomen. He screams out in pain, stumbling back and crashing hard on his back.
Enobaria's tribute leans over him, smiling viciously. She raises her knife high in the air to finish the job-
Kian squeezes his eyes shut-
Cody screams in terror-
And Annie slams into Nyke from behind.

My breath catches. My chest tightens. My hands start to shake.

The edges of the screen blur. Nyke hits the ground hard.

I can’t breathe.

My vision tunnels. The sound of the other mentors, Ian's cry of shock, Enobaria's sigh of barely concealed relief- it fades to a dull thrum.

I grip the edge of the tablet, knuckles white, as my heart thunders—thunders—thunders—too fast, too loud.

I can only watch, powerless to aid, as Annie drags Kian slowly to his feet.
The District Five Tribute looks dazed, as if he's shocked to still be alive. He leans heavily on Annie, murmuring something too quiet for even the sensitive microphones in the arena to pick up.
Cody, eyes still wide with fear, snatches a backpack from the ground and jogs after the two of them, keeping a wary eye on Nyke still collapsed on the ground, the wind seemingly knocked out of her.
The rest of the Careers are too far from the three of them to have a chance to catch up- not to mention Cody's tossed Annie a knife, which she grips in the hand not occupied with Kian.

My heart slows again and I let myself slump against the wall, still clutching my tablet like a lifeline.

Annie, Cody and Kian are off the big screen, but I track them on mine as they pull themselves up a rocky hill.

"You alright, Kian?" Annie mutters after a few minutes. Kian is clearly not alright, the wound in his stomach bleeding sluggishly. But he just grits his teeth and nods. "We should keep going. Need to put as much distance between us and them as possible." He says, wrapping an arm around his middle.
Cody frowns. "You're bleeding bad. Maybe we should stop and see if there's anything in here that might help." He suggests.
Kian looks like he's going to protest, but then stumbles a little on a loose rock and winces violently.
"Only for a - a moment, though, okay?" He insists.
Annie rolls her eyes. "Sure, sure." She says lightly. Cody is pawing through the bag, and judging by the expression on his face, he doesn't like what he's found.
He shakes his head. "Nothing medicine related. Food, rope, iodine and some water." He announces bitterly.
Annie scowls, surveying the terrain around her.
"Do you think you could make it to that little cave over there?" She asks Kian.
The Tribute from Five's bespectacled gaze follows Annie to a pile of rocks probably a hundred meters away.
"Yeah." He says, pushing himself to his feet and beginning to trudge over.
Annie sends Cody a worried look and opens her mouth to speak, but she's interrupted by the BOOM of the cannons.

Seven in total.
The Bloodbath at the Cornucopia must have finally finished.

Mags approaches me, laying a hand on my still trembling knee.
"They're safe, Fin." She says softly. "They're in the cave, see?"
I nod dumbly.
They're safe. Kian and Cody and Annie.
They're safe for now.
"Who died?" I rasp, my throat burning.

Mags winces a little. "Girl from Three, Boy from Six, both from Seven, Boy from Eleven, both from Twelve."
And indeed, Wiress, Axel, Blight, Maple, Chaff and Haymitch have set their tablets down, exchanging morose but resigned looks.

Enobaria still looks vaguely ill, her piercing gaze focused on the big screen, which shows the six Careers - Both from One and Two, Kian's District Partner Alix, and the Boy from Eight- organising their supplies and finding weapons.
Nyke, Enobaria's tribute, is absolutely drenched in blood, and I'm quite glad I didn't watch her take down whoever it is she killed- it was, clearly, not an easy death.
I listen to the Careers talk for a moment before turning my attention back to Annie, Kian and Cody. Mags, who has Cody's tablet, peers over my shoulder and frowns.
"Not looking good, Sponsor wise." She notes.
I frown, as well. "No." I agree. "Do you think Ian's got enough to send anything for Kian? He won't survive the night at this rate."
A glance at the red-haired Victor tells me he either doesn't know or doesn't care that his Tribute is on death's doorstep - he's sidled up to Cashmere and is unabashadley flirting with her, ignoring the lethal glare that Gloss has pinned him with.
Mags' eyes narrow. "I should go beat some sense into him."
"As much as I'd like to see that, there's a simpler way of getting Sponsors." I point out, though dread pools in my stomach at the words.
Mags' expression turns deadly.
"I hate that you have to do this." She says quietly. "That you have to do that to keep a child alive."

My eyes bead with tears. "Keep an eye on Ann while I'm gone, alright? Hopefully, by the time I'm back, there'll be enough money to send Kian something."
Mags nods sadly. "Be safe, sweetheart." She whispers.
"Keep Annie safe." I say in response, forcing myself to my feet and out the door.

To do what needs to be done.

It's not hard to find a rich Capitol citizen who wants me.
It's not hard to pour sugar in her ears, convince her to Sponsor my girl.
It's hard, though, when I'd rather be anywhere but here, rather be able to protect Annie.
It's hard when I imagine children that are dying, and here I am fucking someone twice my age.
It's not hard to hate myself.

Chapter 47: Smoke and Murderers

Kian looks miraculously better by morning.
He scoffs when Cody suggests that Ian might have sent it, shooting Annie a grateful look.

She just looks sad, as if she knows what I did to get her ally the medicine he needs.
"You hungry, kid?" Kian asks abruptly, drawing Cody's attention away from Annie, who's clearly struggling.
Cody nods vehemently. "Starved."
"Alright. Wanna come with me to find something to eat?"
"Yea!" Cody cheers.
Kian smiles a little. "You good, Annie?" He asks, clearly concerned.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Stay hidden." She orders.
Kian's smile grows devious. "We will." He promises, eyes glinting with mischief. "But if we don't find anything, I have an idea."
Annie raises a brow. "Let me know if you need help with said idea."
"I will." Kian grins, blinking rapidly as he steps outside the cave.

Since my tablet shows only Annie, the two of them are out of my view- but if anything serious happens, it'll show on the big screen. Currently it's demonstrating Quinn's tribute scrounging for water - any sort of fight would surely take precedence.

I glance worriedly at Annie. She's fidgeting a little bit, and keeping glancing, concerned, at the mouth of the cave, after Kian and Cody.
I'm not sure if she's worried about her ally's safety, or what will happen if they don't find anything.
Honestly, food isn't really a problem. My endeavors last night sent our Sponsor money skyrocketing, enough to supply them for at least a day. The problem, however, is a lack of weaponry. Apart from Annie's knife, the trio has nothing with which they might defend themselves.
And I don't have nearly enough money to send them steel - especially if I need to feed them.
It's not like Ian will be of any help.

A different citizen of District Five, however, may well be - Kian returns after about ten minutes with berries in his hands and a smirk on his face.
I turn to Mags, frowning. "What's he planning?" I demand.
Mags shrugs a little. "He kept looking at the Cornucopia. Muttered something about - "
"Bait." Kian says from the cave, passing Annie some blueberries. "We'll lure them out with bait."
Annie scowls a little, sniffing at the offered fruit. "You sure this is safe? It looks like that Day-lock thing from training." She says, cautiously poking at it.
Kian laughs, shoving a handful of them into his mouth. His voice is muffled when he speaks. "You mean nightlock. And no, I'm sure it's not that. We have bushels and bushels at home- the first thing we're taught as kids is what it looks like."

When Annie still looks wary, Kian exposes his palms. "If it were nightlock, I'd be dead by now." He points out, popping another berry into his mouth for emphasis.
Annie nods, appeased, and seizes the offered food. "What were you saying about bait?" She asks, swallowing.

Kian grins again, slow and wide.
When he begins to speak, it's rapid and rushed, his hands moving and guestering. I don't think I've ever seen him look so happy.

"Obviously, the Careers aren't stupid enough to abandon the Cornucopia all together.But if we can cause two different distractions- one far enough into the forest-"
He points out of the cave and towards a scraggly woods opposite them.
"-that it would take a while to get there and back. I'd guess at least three of them will pursue that, four if we're lucky, five if they're truly idiots." He gasps for breath.
"Then, I'll wander close enough to the Cornucopia to make me seem like easy prey. Easy enough that they think I'll be down and dead quick enough that it's not a security risk. They know I'm injured, too- So, the remaining guards will go after me - and then I'll lead them on a chase while you two waltz in and nab whatever the fuck you want. "

Annie and Cody are silent for a second, processing what he's said. I, too, take a minute to wrap my head around it - it's relatively simple, but he's spoken so quickly my brain needs a second to catch up.

"Isn't that incredibly dangerous for you? What's stopping Nyke from just burying a knife in your spine?"

Kian winces. "I've seen her kill. She doesn't.... she doesn't do it quickly. She'll make a show out of it, which'll give me a chance to get away. And besides, they'll be burdened down with weapons and shit - I'll just be me."
"That's still putting a lot to chance." Cody says worriedly, wrapping his arms around Kian.
Kian's eyes soften and he drops to his knees, embracing his young ally back.
"I'll be okay. I'm super fast, remember?"
He doesn't look particularly appeased, but Cody nods.
Annie, on the other hand, frowns. "How will we draw the majority of them into the forest?"
Kian grins, still kneeling before Cody.
"How do you feel about starting fires, kid?"


Smoke rises over the trees an hour later. Crouched out of sight, the Cornucopia not a hundred meters from them, Kian and Annie exchange grins.
Nyke's head shoots up. "Smoke." She says, cocking her head to the side. "Alix, Jett, Tassel, Trinity, go kill whatever idiot set that fire. And don't come back until a cannon sounds."
Kian smiles again as his District Partner, the Tributes from One and the Boy from Eight dart towards the fire that Cody's lit.

Beetee, who's been hovering over my shoulder to watch Kian plan (the big screen has been occupied with mutts attacking the Tributes from Six) clears his throat a little.
I look up. "Do you think it'll work?"
Beetee shrugs. "I'm confident that both of your Tributes will escape the interaction unscathed. I am, however, not so sure about the Boy from Five. His plan is clever, but it still puts himself in considerable danger."

I can't help but feel slightly relieved that Kian volunteered himself for the most dangerous part.
I like him, of course. But better him than Annie.

The Tributes from Six somehow escape the mutts, and the big screen switches to follow the Careers as they sprint through the forest, and then flashes to a grinning Cody, who now jogs back to Annie and Kian.

"Everything alright, kid?" Kian asks, scanning Cody up and down.
He nods. "All good. I set the fire with the- the big green leaves, like you said. " He pants, winded.
Kian squares his shoulders. "Great job. Alright. I'll lead them away, the two of you get as much as you can. Focus on weapons and matches and stuff - we've got food and water." He instructs.

Annie scowls a little. "Be careful." She orders, fixing her ally with a stern glare that promises vengeance if he's hurt.

Kian adjusts his glasses. "I will be." He assures, giving Cody a comforting smile before rising to his feet.

I take a deep breath as he sneaks closer to the Cornucopia, his back towards the forest, Cody's fire directly to his left.

As he gets closer, I risk a glance away from the screen to see if Ian looks worried about his Tribute's fate - but he's returned to flirting with Cashmere, not giving the screen a second glance.
No, the only mentors who look particularly concerned are Beetee, Wiress, Mags, and, surprisingly, Enobaria.

She notices my looking and walks over, her face draining of color.
"What's wrong?" I hiss.
Enobaria just shakes her head. "If she catches Five.." Her voice trails off.
A pang of fear rushes through me.
Not just for Kian, but for what will happen to Annie if he's killed. Alone with Cody, there's no one strong enough to watch her back as she sleeps, no one to find them food....
"She won't." I say, willing my voice to sound confident.
Enobaria doesn't look convinced.

When Kian lets out a pathetic- sounding groan, stumbling and clutching at his stomach, my eyes shoot back to the screen.
He's limping towards the Cornucopia, now in plain sight of both Tributes from Two.
Nyke and her District Partner exchange wicked glances, snatching swords from their stash of weapons.

They stalk towards him like a predator advancing on prey.
Kian pretends not to see them, stumbling and wincing and generally looking miserable.
Annie and Cody creep forward, towards the Cornucopia.

Kian's head shoots up at the last possible second, pretending to notice the Careers.
Nyke grins. "Hello, Five. Whatcha doing all the way over here?" She mocks, twirling the sword in her hand.
Kian takes slow, weak steps back, nearly falling at least twice. "I- I - nothing. I just needed something for my- for my stomach." He stutters, eyes darting from Nyke to the boy, and back again.
Nyke's smile grows. "Well, that's just too bad, isn't it? How'd you hurt yourself again? Oh, right. It was me, wasn't it? Where'd your allies go?"

Kian's eyes go wide with fear. "I- I was a burden with my-" He cuts himself off with a choked sob, doubling over and clutching his stomach.
He's so convincing I find myself worried for him, even though I know full well he's playing them.
Enobaria, too, lets out a long whistle. "Christ, the kid's good." She mutters.

On screen, Kian sobs, giving the Careers a desperate, pleading look. "Please. Please- I-"
Nyke laughs, delighted. "Aw, poor Five. Your friends left? Don't worry, we'll be your friends. Won't we, Cassian?"
Her District Partner grins. "Nah. I think I'd rather kill him."
He lunges, sword aimed for Kian's heart.

I gasp, afraid he'll be killed- but he jerks away from the point just in time, sending Nyke and Cassian a terrified glance before turning and making a break for the forest.
He's slower than usual, still acting the stomach injury, but he still reaches the forest line within seconds.
Nyke shoots Cassian a pleased look and darts after him. "I get the kill!" She crows, halfway to Kian already. Cassian returns the smile and takes off after here.

Neither of them notice Annie and Cody, who are now in the mouth of the Cornucopia, stuffing empty backpacks with weapons, matches, blankets and rope.
Neither of them think anything of the enraged scream that Trinity unleashes - the big screen shows her finding the fire and realizing she's been duped.

My tablet, on the other hand, shows me Annie and Cody, now stuffed with all sorts of things, as they trudge back to their cave, exchanging victorious smiles.

The big screen flashes to Kian, running at his normal speed now, darting through the forest so quickly he's almost a blur.
Nyke and Cassian pursue him ruthlessly for almost ten minutes before she stops suddenly in her tracks, winded and confused.
"How," she asks, turning to Cassian "Has he not collapsed yet? He looked minutes from death."
Cassian shrugs a little. "Maybe he's just really fast?"

Nyke considers for a second, but before she can respond, Trinity screams again, sounding closer. "It was a trick!" She bellows.
Nyke's eyes widen with surprise, which quickly hardens to rage.
“We’ve been played,” she realizes, snarling “The fire, the sob story, all of it—Five led us away on purpose.”
Cassian bares his teeth. "Should we chase him?"
Nyke's clearly spitting mad, but she shakes her head. "No. Back to the Cornucopia. We'll gut anyone we find there."
She rounds on Cassian. "And if we find Five... he's mine."

Chapter 48: A Family Affair

Kian's exhausted, but he's grinning.

He's gasping for breath as he triapses back towards Cody and Annie, carefully avoiding the Cornucopia at all costs.
He laughs when he sees its state- nearly empty. He laughs even harder when he sees Nyke, practically tearing out her own hair in a fit of rage.
"Serves them right." He mutters, stalking past them with silent feet.

Beetee shakes his head, bewildered. "I cannot believe that worked so perfectly."
I exhale loudly. "Me neither."
Mags smiles at me.
"Does Ian have any idea that his tribute just excused a genius plan that probably saved multiple lives?"
The three of us glance towards the man.
"I'm going to say no." I decide.
Beetee scowls. "He's definitely got sponsors now. Finnick, maybe you should just go take his tablet. Your tributes are allies."
"It's not like he would care, anyway." Enobaria chimes in, still looking slightly grim.
I frown at her. "What's wrong?"
Enobaria just shakes her head. "He won. He beat her, and she hates to lose. She'll hunt him obsessively until she gets her revenge- and when she does, it won't be pretty."
"No." I mutter, leaning closer to the Victor from Two. "She won't. Because we're going to get them all out. Remember?"
Enobaria blinks sadly. "I'm afraid she might still murder the rest of them once they're free." She confesses.

I glance back at the screen.
Kian's nearly at the cave now, walking slowly and carefully so as to be sure he's not being followed.
"Then we make sure she doesn't get the chance. Ian might not do shit, but that kid saved Cody's life. I'll protect him the best I can."
I glance over to Enobaria's tablet, where Nyke paces like a wildcat.
"We'll need more than luck this time." She says, glaring at her tribute.
"She's right." Beetee agrees, looking at Kian with something like grief. "I'd know. Luck's never on our side."
"Then we make some." I say firmly. "We'll make our own luck. Contact Plutarch. We'll push forward the plan. As soon as someone dies close enough to the dam, Rota will swoop in. They'll all get out."
Beetee nods. "Alright. I'll go talk to Rota and the Tourmalaynes. Make sure you're ready to go at any moment."
"I will be."
"Good. In the meantime, all we can do is... well, watch."
I grumble under my breath, but I know he's right. Annoyingly.

Kian ducks into the cave.
Annie's knife is at his throat in seconds, and he lifts his hands in surrender, lifting his brows.
"Calm down. It's me." He laughs.
Annie drops the knife and wraps him in a hug.

"Thank God you're okay. You were gone forever." She chastises, smacking him lightly. "Scared the shit out of me."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Sorry." Kian mutters- but he can't hold back a smile, and he squeezes her back.

Cody shoots forwards, too, wrapping Kian's legs in a hug.
The older boy leans over and picks him up so Cody can hug him properly. "Hey, kid. Did you get all the stuff?"
Cody nods enthusiastically. "Weapons, matches, blankets - we can make a massive fort in here!"

Kian's smile grows. "Good idea. The Careers are mad enough that it would probably safer not to go out there for a couple days, anyway."
Annie nods, and Kian sets Cody gently on the ground. "You tricked those Careers well, by the way. Never knew you were such a good actor." She says, sounding impressed.
Kian's expression turns bittersweet. "Yeah, well, I learned from the best. My brothers have all mastered the art of swindling. I'm usually their target, of course, but I suppose it's paying off."
Annie laughs. "Brothers? How many?"
"Five, including me. I'm the oldest, wisest, and overall best, of course. Then it's Rhett, who I bet is fucking around with something he shouldn't be right now. Then the twins, Flare and Flux - Flare swears he's older, but truthfully Flux was born, like, three minutes earlier. And then there's Jayce, who's the youngest, but I can almost hear him yelling from here."
Annie laughs. "Wow. I don't envy your parents."
Kian's smile fades. "Yeah, me neither." He says simply.
Annie frowns a little, but doesn't press it.
Kian turns to Cody.
"I'm exhausted. I don't suppose you found a pillow in there?"

No pillows, but after a couple of minutes, Cody's snoring, his head on Kian's shoulder.
The older boy looks down on him, amused. "I guess I'm the pillow now."
Annie hums. "That looks delightfully uncomfortable. And god, the kid snores like a hibernating bear."

Kian goes quiet at that, his face turning wistful.
"What?" Annie demands.
He just shakes his head. "Do you miss home?" He asks suddenly, fixing vibrant blue eyes on Annie.
Annie blinks, confused. "Of course I do. Every day."
"Me, too. I miss my brothers. I miss them so much sometimes I can't breathe. I miss Rhett's bitchy attitude, I miss the twins' bickering, I miss Jayce and how he snores like a bear. I miss them so much."

Annie speaks. "I miss my parents. I miss the ocean. And I miss my sister, too, even though she's gone."
"What happened?"
"The 65th Games. Arrow to the heart."
Kian furrows his brow. "Caprice, right?"
Annie nods. "She was my age, when she died. I was 13."

"I'm sorry." Kian says simply, slinging an arm around Annie's shoulder.

Maybe I would have been jealous, but a glance at my tablet tells me it's currently -10 degrees in the arena. Body heat is a necessity.
And besides, there's nothing romantic going on between Kian and Annie.
Even if there was, she'd never act on it. Not with what happened with Caprice.

They sit there in silence for a couple of minutes, the drone of Cody's snoring filling the cave.
"What about your parents?" Annie asks, turning to look at her ally.
Kian stiffens visibly. "They got what they deserved." He says, somewhat harshly. "They knew what they were getting into. Didn't stop them, of course."
At Annie's confused look, Kian rakes a hand through his hair, looking vaguely uncomfortable.
"Ugh, it's a terrible story. I promise, you don't want to know."
Annie shoots him a half smile. "Well, now you have to tell me."
"I suppose I do." Kian agrees, tucking Cody closer to him. "Alright, fine. My mother was a power plant worker, as most of us are. Not a lot of career options in Five, that's for sure - it's pretty much that or running a store. Which she didn't do, becaus-"
"You are stalling." Annie interrupts, arching a brow.
Kian scowls. "No, I'm not."
"Yeah, you are." Cody mumbles, slowly opening his eyes.
"Am not." Kian retorts, though his tone softens as he speaks to the yawning kid.
"Are too!" Cody responds cheerfully, snuggling closer to Kian's side.

"As I was saying, before I was so rudely interrupted, she was a power plant worker. Not a very good one, either - most days she went to work drunk. I actually don't remember many times when she wasn't drunk, really - Except when she was with him. My Father. "

He says the word like it takes foul in his mouth.

"He wasn't even from Five. He was a Peacekeeper. From Two."

At that, Enobaria gasps, panic taking over her features. I turn to her, a question on my face, but her eyes are flicking from the big screen to her tablet frantically, and she doesn't look up.
Confused, I shrug, before turning back to watch Kian.
"I don't know how it works in Four - but in Five it's frowned upon, not illegal. But highly discouraged. Still, they didn't care. They loved each other - or, at least, she loved him.
"He didn't. He had a family at home in Two - a real family, with two perfect kids. Wanted nothing to do with us, and only two months after Jayce was born, he took off. My mother was devastated. Like I said, she actually loved him. More than she'd ever love my brothers and I.
"After he left, she - she killed herself. Left Rhett and I to deal with the twins, who were... what, eight? Jayce was like three months, max."
He finishes, looking away.
Annie seems shocked into silence.
"I'm - I'm so sorry, Kian." She murmurs.
He shrugs a little.
Cody looks up, eyes shining with tears. "You're a good brother." He wraps his arms around Kian, burying his head into the older boy's chest. "I try." Kian says eventually, blinking tears of his own back.
"I don't have any siblings." Cody says, his voice muffled by Kian's shirt. "Can I be your brother, too?"

Someone is sniffling in the Mentors room, yanking me out of the little trance I've gone into. A glance around tells me that it's Haymitch- drunk as ever, but transfixed by the big screen, as well.

Kian's eyes soften. "Of course, kid." He says softly, hugging Cody tighter. "I'd be honored."
Cody looks up. "Annie?"
She smiles at him, her own eyes looking slightly misty. "Me, too."
Cody nods happily, untangling himself from Kian and seizing a blanket.
"Now let's build that fort."

The big screen flashes slowly away, showing a shot of the now sleeping Careers.
Enobaria exhales loudly. I glance down at my tablet, making sure that they're alright, before turning to her.
"What the fuck is wrong?" I demand.
She lifts her head slowly.

"I know his father." She says simply. As she's from Two, I know she must mean Kian's.
"How?" I ask.
"Big scandal. Everyone found out about it - this Peacekeeper who had a bunch of kids in Five. Never would have put it together if I hadn't heard that -" She gestures to the screen. "But now that I think about it, he looks just like the kid- except for the hair."
I frown a little. "And?"
Enobaria's face drains of it's remaining color. " And,Kian's not the only kid of his who's in these Games."

Chapter 49: Victory's Wrath

I stare at her. Blink once. Twice.
"Who?" I ask finally, dreading the answer.
"The girl."
"Does she know?"
Enobaria pauses for a second.
"I'm not sure. I mean, she's probably put two and two together. Like I said, they're practically identical. It'd also explain how desperate she is to kill him."

I shoot her a blank look.
Rolling her eyes, she continues, "The whole family...The mom and the girls, I mean, were hit hard when they got the news. Their mother was mostly just sad. Nyke's sister was old enough that she had moved away, so she didn't really care. But it had a massive impact on Nyke. She was thirteen when he returned. Ever since then, she's had a desperate need to prove herself to him. She volunteered for the Games, and intends to win them, too. She doesn't want anyone upstaging her, musch less her father's bastard son. Really, it'll just be the last jewel in her crown when - or if, I suppose, she kills him."

I gnash my teeth.
"If you ever come across this man ever again, do me a favor and sock him in the face."
"Oh, I have." Enobaria says sweetly. "Nine times. But I'll do it again, if you like."
"Yes, please."
"I'll tell you what, if we bust them out of the arena, I'll let the kid do it himself."

I smirk a little. "Not sure that's the best idea. Wouldn't want a murder charge on your hands."
"Yeah, well, if Ian doesn't get his shit together I may just have one anyway. Has he even glanced at his tablet once, or just Cash's tits?"
I bite down hard on my lip to keep from laughing.
"By the looks of it, just the tits. But I have to say, I think Gloss might just beat you to the murder."
Indeed, the blonde Victor is eyeing Kian's mentor with a look that promises pain.

Enobaria rubs her hands together in feral anticipation.
"Watching Gloss get pissed is so much fun. I'll give Ian twenty minutes, max. Too bad, though - Kian'll go mentorless."
"I'm afraid that ship has sailed already. Annie told me that the two of them refused to talk strategy - at all. Good thing he shares my charm."
I wiggle my eyebrows at her.

Nyke's Mentor sighs loudly.
"Good thing we're getting them all out of there," She counters. "'else he might have to use it. If he won, of course."

That shuts me up.
Because she's right.

Although he's lean, Kian's quite attractive, what with his brilliant blue eyes, mischievous, full lips and shiny red hair.
He would have no shortage of patrons in the Capitol.

But he won't. Because I won't let it happen. Because we're going to save him - save all of them from ever going through that.
"He won't." I tell her, my voice low.
She doesn't respond, just studies the screen. "Do you really think this is going to work?" She asks finally.
I think about it for a second. "Honestly? I have to. Otherwise I'll go crazy." I say quietly.

It's true. The mere thought that I may never see Annie again would drive me completely insane. So I don't even consider the fact that the plan might not succeed.
It will. It has to.
"I hate this part," she mutters. "The waiting. The watching. Makes you feel like you're back in the Games all over again, but this time you can't even throw a punch."
"At least this time Rota will be throwing a bomb." I respond.
Enobaria flashes her teeth in a smile. "Indeed."

We're both quiet for a second, until I speak. "Hey, Baria?"
She turns, eyebrows raised.
"Thank you."
Her gaze softens a little. "Of course."
I lean over and crush her in a hug. She stiffens a little and then pats me on the back. "Alright, alright. Stop it, you're practically shaking. My arms are, like, vibrating."
I send her a rueful glance. "Haven't slept in a few days." I admit.
What with my duties and watching Annie, I haven't given myself a moment of rest.
Enobaria's brows shoot up. "Go to bed, Odair." She orders.
"I-" She interrupts my protests. "Go to sleep, or I'm telling Mags."

I gulp.
And I traipse back to my room, tablet safely in Enobaria's hand.
Even I won't risk Mags' wrath.

Chapter 50: Matter of Time

The next few days are relatively uneventful - inside the arena, at least.

Outside of it, we're in a flurry of planning.
Everything must be perfect, or else we're all fucked.
It's difficult to plan such a thing in secrecy, as well. Gloss, Cash and I have very little free time on our hands, what with mentoring and dealing with Patrons.

Brutus and Enobaria have taken on the impossible task of keeping Rota away from Morphling, as we need her as sober as we can get.
Despite their groaning, however, Rota seems mostly agreeable to this. I haven't decided yet if its because she's eager to help, or because the Mentors from Two are very, very persistent.

Beetee, Wiress and Luna are the experts on the sciencey- stuff- making notes and mumuring and nodding.

Seeder, Mags and Haymitch are the least physically intimidating of us, what with Mags and Seeder being older women, and Haymitch having a reputation as a drunk. Because of this, they're able to get around without attracting stares that the rest of us would get. (Fear in the case of Enobaria or Brutus, lust or admiration in mine, Gloss or Cash's.) This makes them excellent field workers.
Currently, they're out actually planting the bomb in Beetee's selected hovercraft.

"Do you think they're going to be okay?" I ask for what must be the umpteenth time, fiddling nervously with my shoelace.
Gloss, who is the only one patient enough to deal with me, nods soothingly.
"Mags can take care of herself, Fin." He says calmly, patting my thigh.
I worry my bottom lip. "Yeah, but what if they get caught?"
"They won't. Beetee thought it out, remember? He knows what he's doing." Gloss' words actually sort of help, that time. It's true, I don't think I've ever seen or heard Beetee making a mistake.
Mags will be fine. She has to be.

My eyes travel to Annie on my tablet, munching on some crunchy bread and rolling her eyes as Kian attempts a sailing knot at Cody's instruction.
The cave has been a safe haven for them, Kian only leaving once or twice to scrounge around for food and to assess the Careers.
Enobaria says Nyke's still fuming mad, but judging by the fact she hasn't done anything about it, I doubt she knows where the three are hidden.
I don't think Kian knows that the Career is his sister, either.
No, the only siblings he knows of in the arena are Cody and Annie - now laughing at the limp piece of rope on which he's magnificently failed a knot.

I'm not stupid enough to believe that this peace will last much longer. The only reason it's even gone on this long is because the audience finds it endearing - and because the filtered light makes Kian's hair look really good. Or, at least that's what Majesty Velle, last night's Patron, thinks.

But I don't care why it's being allowed, all I'm hoping for is that they'll be left alone until we break the arena.
And then they can skip out, humming happily, safe and sound and perfect.

Of course, it doesn't end up working like that.
It all starts going downhill when Mags, Seeder and Haymitch return. Though the bomb's placement went perfectly, they did have to knock out a few guards on the way back, which will most likely arise suspicion.
Unfortunate, but what can you do?

Then, on screen, Rota's tribute gets attacked by the Careers. Sober for once, she can only watch with frightened, wide eyes as the girl is killed.
Enobaria grimaces as Nyke brings her sword down upon the Tribute's neck, turning away from the screen.
Rota, now trembling, throws herself into Baria's arms.

For a second, Enobaria stiffens, surprised. She's not really a touchy person. But after a moment, she wraps her arms around Rota, making soothing sounds and leading her away from the TV.

I turn to Gloss, eyebrows raised.
His jaw drops.
"Call a Peacemaker." He breathes. "She's been replaced by an impostor."
"Or an identical clone." Brutus, who has somehow appeared out of nowhere, agrees.
Gloss jumps, spilling coffee all over himself. "Fuck sakes! Warn us a little next time." He demands, mopping up the brown liquid and glaring at the older man.

Brutus hands him another napkin and sends him a smirk. "But it's so much more fun to scare you."
Gloss' cheeks go a little pink, and it's all I can do not to laugh.
"Want some?" I interrupt, not wanting to stew in the obvious sexual tension between them for any longer than I have to. I nudge my own mug towards Gloss.
He wrinkles his pert nose. "You put way too much sugar in yours. How many cubes did you add?" He scrutinizes the coffee with an air of superiority
I scowl. "Only three."
"More like five." Cashmere chimes in, strolling beside Brutus.
"Four at the most." I defend myself, snatching back my coffee and giving it a defiant sip, glaring at my friends over the rim of the mug. "Mhmm-"
"SCREEEEECH!"

Our heads jerk up to the screen.
"What was that?" Baria demands, returned from soothing Rota and now standing stiffly next to a still sopping Gloss.
I shake my head, confused.
"I've no clue." The screen demonstrates only Nyke, sharpening her knife and glaring dangerously.

"SCREEEECH!"
I realize then that the sound is not coming from the big screen, but rather my tablet.

Kian, Cody and Annie look just as confused as we do, their eyes locked on the back, shadowy corner where the sound seems to be emerging from.
"What's that?" Cody asks, his voice trembling with fear.
Kian shrugs a little. "Mpt sure, but get behind me just in case." He orders, his hair gleaming as he shoves the younger tribute behind him. His voice is louder, now, and I bet if I'd be willing to look up, their faces would now be shown on the big television.
Annie studies the corner, too. "Do you think we shou-"

A black cloud of wings streams from the corner and cuts off her sentence.
I let out a yowl of terror as she shrieks, adrenaline and fear pumping through me. My body wants to fight this new enemy, though I am miles away from it. Every inch of me itches to battle, to slash these mutts out of the air, to drive them away from Annie. But I cannot. Kian reacts first, seizing a spear and bringing it down upon the mutts, batting them to the ground and spearing them through.
But his efforts are mostly futile. The birds, or bats, or whatever these things are, just keep coming, clawing at the three of them with razor sharp talons.
Cody cries his pain, and Kian shakes his head.
"We've got to run." He yells, straining to be heard.
"But the - but the Careers!"
"The bats will kill us if we don't leave this cave. We at least have a shot against the Careers."
His voice can barely be heard over the fluttering of wings, but Cody darts out of the cave, two dozen bats on his trail.
Annie and Kian turn and follow, similar groups biting and scratching at them - surface wounds, but they will be deadly all the same, in the arena.
Cody pelts towards the nearest river, evidently in an attempt to use the water against the mutts.
I turn desperately to Beetee. "What's going to happen?"
Beetee shrugs, his normally dark face draining of color. "I - I don't know." He breathes, eyes locked on the screen.

I've never heard him sound so unsure.
Haymitch, too, looks distraught, as if the sight of the mutts reminds him of something horrible.
Maybe they do.

Cody plunges into the nearest river, his dive as neat and perfect as any child from District Four's ought to be.
The bats leave him immediately, flapping off back to wherever they came.
"The water!" Cody yells, waving frantically at his allies.
"Get into the water!"
Kian and Annie look up, relieved, and shoot in his direction.

I let out a long sigh.
They're fine. They're fine, they're fine.
The water gets rid of the bats.
They're going to be okay.

Before the older Tributes can reach the river, however, the bats simply stop. Then, like they've been given an order to retreat, they turn as one, and take off behind the others.

I've watched enough Hunger Games to know that this never happens without reason.
Kian seems to have come to a similar conclusion, and he yells to Cody, who is probably three hundred meters ahead of Annie and he, "Come on back, Cod! Quickly!"

He frowns and mutters something along the lines of bossy brothers, but still pulls himself out of the water and begins to amble towards the other two.

In his chair, Gloss goes ramrod stiff.
"What?" I demand, not seeing any danger on the screen.
Wordlessly, he points.
A figure is standing by the tree line, not fifty meters from Cody - dark hair, blue eyes, smiling lasciviously.
Nyke.

Annie and Cody don't see her.
Kian does.
"RUN, CODY!" He screams, as he and Annie begin to sprint towards him. "RUN!"

But as fast as Kian and Annie are, as quickly as Cody begins to scramble towards the Tribute from Five, Nyke is closer, faster, and stronger. She closes the distance with terrifying precision—one moment standing in the shadows of the trees, the next, she's sprinting with a predator’s grace, her blade flashing like a promise.

"No...no, no, no-"
I sense Mags behind me and pull her into a hug, not wanting to watch what is sure to be Cody's last moments.
But I can't make myself turn away. Nyke seizes the back of his shirt and pulls him to her, kicking and screaming.
"ANNIE!" Cody half screams, half sobs, flailing and trying to escape the grip. "KIAN!"

Annie screams in her desperation, her legs trembling with strain as she tries to keep up with Kian. "NYKE, PLEASE!"
Kian is still running, faster than should be humanly possible, his gaze locked on Cody, eyes narrowed with rage.

Nyke just smiles.
She raises her sword.
And with maniacal glee - it slashes down.

A deadly arc, curving through Cody's throat -
and severing his head from his body.

Mags sobs.
Enobaria swears.
I can barely see.

We couldn't save him. We couldn't save the talkative Twelve year old who was too pure for these games, too pure for this world.
We were too late.

Too late.
Annie slows down, her eyes locked onto Cody's prone form. On the - I can't make myself look, but she can't seem to look away, blinking rapidly and trembling a little.
Nyke just smiles, before turning and ambling towards the trees. "Cassian!" She calls, voice full of glee. "Jett! Come look who I found!"
Kian doesn't seem to care who will soon be coming for him.

He just drops to his knees beside Cody, hands shaking violently as he reaches for him - and then pulls back.
Tilts his head up to the sky.
And screams.

Chapter 51: Fox Among Wolves

Summary:

Rather brutal death - blood and gore.
Trigger Warnings: Broken bones, blood, being ill, mild torture, revenge
Summary at the end if you need to skip

"CODY!" Kian reaches out again, tucking Cody's body and head to his chest, ignoring the blood that spills over his shirt.

BOOM.

"No... Cody..." He whispers, stroking the dead boy's hair tenderly. Tears pour down his cheeks and onto the lenses of his glasses, a sob of anguish spilling from his mouth.

I bite back my own tears, grief pouring through me.
He was so young, so innocent- he didn't deserve any of this. He should have gotten out. He should have lived.
I instead force myself to watch Annie, who is reacting strangely.

She blinks a few more times, her eyes unfocused. Shaking her head rapidly, she looms over her allies.
"Caprice?" She mumbles, her body beginning to tremble. "Kelton?"

Confused and panicked, I whirl to face Beetee.
"What's wrong with her?" I demand.
The District Three Victor just regards me sadly. "She's gone into shock." He mumurs. "That was... quite a traumatizing thing to behold. She'll be... a little out of it for a while."

I shake my head, panic growing.
She can't be out of it for a while. She can't. Because Nyke, having found her allies, is stalking towards them with a smile that promises vengeance.
Kian, who is still sobbing, bent over Cody's body, jerks his head up.
At the sight of the Careers, his face drains of color, but he makes no move to rise.
Instead, he turns and speaks urgently to Annie.
"You've got to run, Annie." He orders. "It's me they want. Run."

She doesn't respond, just stares at him dumbly.
"RUN, ANNIE! RUN!" Kian bellows, turning terrified to look at the Careers.

My heart nearly stops when she still doesn't move.
She'll be killed, she'll be killed, she'll be killed-
But then finally, finally, she turns and starts to jog away, still blinking frantically and looking terribly confused.
She moves painfully slow, but she's not pursued- Kian's right. He's their target.

The Tribute from Five watches her go, letting out a sigh of relief.
Facing the Careers, he gives Cody's hair one more stroke, presses a kiss onto his forehead, and rises to his feet. He steps in front of the body, palming the two knives he had on his person, and faces the Careers. "Well," Kian says, giving them a cocky little half smile. "Here I am. Come and get me."

Tassel from Eight, who is bulky and brutish but clearly has no idea how to use a sword, charges for him first.
Kian fights like a cornered fox - quick and clever and lethal.
He dodges Tassel's first blow easily, before whirling and slashing the charging tribute's throat with one quick maneuver.

BOOM.

The rest of them stop in their tracks, newly cautious.
Kian's rage is dangerous. Cody's death gives him a viciousness that he hadn't possessed before.
But Nyke just laughs, shrugging. "He was getting on my nerves, anyway. I should thank you, Five."
She makes a gesture with her hands, and the remaining Careers form a circle around him.

My heart sinks. Even foxes lose to an angry pack of wolves.
There's nothing I can do to stop what is inevitably going to happen.
I know it.
And Kian knows it, too.

But he doesn't beg, not even when a particularly nasty blow from Cassian, a blunt hit to his stomach, sends him gasping to his knees.
Not even when Nyke, smiling victoriously, seizes a loc of his vibrant red hair and jerks his head back, baring his neck.
Not even when she lays her sword against his throat.
"You made us look stupid." She hisses, digging the weapon in.
Kian shoots her a smirk. "Nah, you did that all on your own just fine. Didn't need my help."

Nyke's eyes flash.
She brings her foot up.
And stomps down hard on the back of his shin.

There's a disgusting wet crunch.
Silence in the Mentors room.
And then Kian screams his agony.

Enobaria, stoic, lethal, vicious Enobaria, lunges for the trash can. It's all I can do to not do the same.
Her stomp was hard enough to break- no, shatter, the bone, and shards now poke out from his skin. "Don't - don't look." I warn. Miller, Quinn, Axel and Nash are the only four that heed my warning. The rest are grotesquely transfixed. Contrary to her formidable mentor, Nyke doesn't flinch at the sound- rather, she closes her eyes, humming contentedly, like his yells are music to her ears.

I clap a hand over my mouth, shaking.
"Mags." I rasp, looking frantically for her. "Mags, we need to stop this."
"We can't." Luna, the female Victor from District Five, is trembling. "The Capitol loves this stuff."

"Turn it off, then." Cecelia, the Victor from Eight, who I know has multiple children, is staring at the screen like she pictures her own son in Kian's place.
But we all know we can't do that, either.

Nyke circles Kian like a vulture. He's curled over himself, glasses askew and mud on his cheek, but he still glares at her through blurry, tearstained eyes.
With a sudden savage twist, Nyke rips Kian’s glasses off and shatters them beneath her heel.
He winces a little, his eyes slightly unfocused, but still he glares. "You know, I think you did me a favor, there. It's much nicer when I can't see you."
Cassian snarls. "You should cut out his tongue."
"No, I don't think so." Nyke muses. "I like it much better when he screams."
At that, Kian's District Partner, Alix, who had just been watching silently thus far, goes pale.
This must have crossed a line, even for her.

When she speaks, low and hard and cold, I can hear the barely restrained rage. She might have grown up with Kian. Might have known him. Might have been his classmate.
"That's enough. He's down. Just kill him, already."
Nyke smiles a little. "But where's the fun in that?"
With a vicious twist, she grabs a dagger. And stares straight at Alix, smiling innocently, as she plunges it straight through his hand.
Kian lets out a strangled cry as the blade pins his whole arm to the ground. His whole body jerks once, twice, as he tries to tug it away, a puppet on strings.

"After all," She leans closer to the tribute from Five so she can hiss in his ear. "I want nothing but the best for my little brother."

"Shit." Enobaria swears. An oily sort of feeling has settled in my stomach.

Kian looks up at her, his face a mix of pain and confusion.
"What?"
"You heard me." Nyke says sweetly, looming over him. "Before your father scurried off to five, he had a real family." She smiles at him. "He told me he was sorry for abandoning us, for betraying us. But it's not something you can easily forgive."

At that, Kian freezes, studying her face as if trying to find some sort of similarity between the two of them.
Then his gaze lands on her eyes.
Piercing, brilliant blue, narrowed in anger.
Identical to his.
"How-how-" He breathes.
"I was a baby when he left." Nyke snarls, leaning in so close her nose practically touches his.
"A baby. Perhaps I should show him why leaving us - for you- was a mistake."
"Don't worry, he already thinks that." Kian rasps, his voice laced with pain.
. “Well,” she says lightly, “Then he's right about one thing.”
Alix winces. Kian just rolls his eyes. The other Careers are clever enough not to get involved, though they do look slightly repulsed.
“I waited years to find out who he ran away for,” Nyke continues, voice low and venomous. "Years, to see what possibly could have been better than us. What he possibly could have picked over me."

Kian's eyes flicker. Recognition and guilt are apparent, as if he's felt the same things towards her. As if he understands precisely why she's so angry.
He's silent for a moment before he speaks. "I'm- I am sorry." He whispers, barely audible, looking up at his sister.
Nyke freezes.
Enobaria's eyes practically bulge out of her skull.
"What did you just say?"
"I said, I'm sorry. You - we - didn't deserve it. Any of it."
She blinks at him, completely perplexed, for a couple of seconds. Cassian's jaw has dropped. The Two from One are unapologetically gaping. Even Alix looks surprised.

I glance at Enobaria. "Will sh-"
I don't get a chance to finish the sentence.
"Liar." Nyke growls, seizing the dagger still embedded in her brother's hand and wrenching it to the side.
I gag, clapping my hands over my ears, as he screams again, broken and weak.
Nyke just glares down at him. "You tricked me once with your honey tongued lies. Your Mother ruined my Father's life, my life, with those sweet little words. You're all the same. Lying, whoring tricksters."
She yanks the weapon from his palm, and blood begins to pool around his head as he cries out again.
Alix whimpers, powerless to do anything.
Someone in the Mentors room sobs.
It might be Cecelia. It might be me.

Alix speaks again. "Nyke. Enough."
Nyke lets out a long suffering sigh. "No one lets me have any fun. But fine. We should probably go track down Mermaid- Girl anyway."
She rises to her feet, stretching luxuriously. "Someone grab me another sword."
Cassian does, an elegant blade crusted with dried blood from an earlier kill. Nyke spares Kian one final glance. "Stay right there, little brother. We'll be back soon, don't worry. That is, if you're not dead by then." She says. Cassian shoots him a feral grin, though it lacks the power that it once might, as if he, too, thinks his partner went too far. The Tributes from Two traipse in the direction Annie went without a second glance back at their victim.
The two from One scurry behind them, sending Kian a rather sympathetic look.
Only Alix remains.
"I'm sorry." She says softly, sitting down beside him.
Kian doesn't answer.
He's trembling, his hand bleeding, his leg twisted at a grotesque angle, his face pale from blood loss.
"Please." He rasps finally, turning pleading eyes towards her, towards his District Partner. "Please."

Alix's face twists with guilt, but she doesn't argue.
She pulls a dagger from her belt and rests it against his chest, where it will be quick, where it will be as painless as she can make it.
Kian gasps, as if remembering something. "Annie." He says desperately, reaching his good hand towards her and clutching Alix's own. "Annie." He says again, insisting.
Alix clearly understands what he's trying to say, nodding. "I'll protect her." She promises fiercely, squeezing her District Partner's hand and not bothering to mask the guilt, the rage on her face. "I won't let Nyke kill her."
Kian lays his head back and closes his eyes, clearly appeased. "Thank you."

My heart twists.
I owe this boy, who's dying wish is for Annie to be protected, everything. I owe him everything.
But this is a debt I can never repay.
Because Alix takes a deep, shuddering breath.
Then drives the weapon through his heart.

Kian's body jerks, his breath catching mid-sob.
Then the hand clutching hers goes slack.

BOOM.

There's another sob from the Mentors room.
Tears pour down Cecelia's face. Enobaria has sunk to the floor. Mags reaches out for my hand.

But Alix is silent.
She rises, graceful and deadly as the blade she seizes from the ground- the one Nyke initially dug into Kian's neck.
She wipes the weapon on her pants.

And somewhere far off, the sound of Nyke’s laughter echoes through the trees.

Alix starts walking.
Toward it.

Notes:

In this Chapter, Kian yells at Annie to run and escape from the Careers while he holds them off.
At first, she doesn't comply, as she's gone into shock after watching Cody's death, but she eventually does.

The Careers advance on Kian, overpowering him - but not before he kills Tassel, the Boy from District Eight.
Nyke takes a while killing him, and it's revealed that she is his sister, to Kian's shock.
Alix, Kian's District Partner, gets replused by the unnecessary gore, and orders Nyke to stop.
After a while, she does, leaving Alix alone with Kian, who is slowly bleeding out.
She kills him in mercy, agreeing to fulfill his final request to protect Annie.
After he dies, she stalks back into the forest after Nyke, a sword in hand and revenge in mind.

Chapter 52: Cross the Line

Alix's steps are stalking and slow.

She tracks the four remaining Careers through the forest, smiling a little when she realizes that they're going in the opposite direction Annie went.

She's out for revenge, no doubt.
She no longer cares about the alliance. She wants Nyke's blood on her sword.
By the look on Enobaria's face, she shares the desire.

 

Alix continues to walk, her face tightening with rage as the sound of Nyke's laughter amplifies.
The anger dissolves into wonder as she beholds the sight in front of her.

The dam.

I jerk to my feet. "The dam. Either Nyke or Alix is going to die there. We've got to get moving."
The Tourmalayne siblings rise to their feet, grim determination darkening their beauty, making it something feral and raw and true.
They've been waiting for this moment as anxiously as I - perhaps for their Tributes' lives, but also in their own pursuit of revenge.
Rota, too, stands, her gait unusually steady.

Beetee regards us with admiration. "Be careful. Rota, drop the bomb as quickly as you can. Don't worry about appearing subtle. Finnick, just get the pilot as far away from her craft as possible. Out of the building, if you can. Gloss, Cashmere...you're backup."

The elevator takes us to the hovercraft floor. Technically, you need valid identification to enter, but Gloss flirts our way in, winking a little at the star-struck security guard as he saunters past her.
Cashmere bares her teeth at the guard, clearly angry at the way the woman's eyes cloud with desire and lust as they trail Gloss' receding form.

"Craft 19." I mutter under my breath, nodding towards one of the planes.
A massive screen on the back shows the Games' current action, the places where a death is most likely to occur - so the pilots might be able to watch the death, fly in, and retrieve the bodies with maximum efficiency.
Each hovercraft has been assigned a specific sector of the arena.
Number 19, at the far left end of the row, is only supposed to collect corpses from the forest.
Today, it'll go on a little excursion to the dam.
Since Alix hasn't reached Nyke yet, the pilots are just silently watching the Games.

Craft 19's driver, Skylar Clod, is chewing on a piece of gum and yawning with boredom as she slumps against the wing of her vehicle.
Her eyes practically bug out of her head when she beholds Cashmere, Gloss and I.
"Oh my.... oh my gods." She mumbles to herself, unconsciously fixing a strand of her hair.

I shoot her a cocksure smile, dropping my bottom lip in a pout.
"Hey, gorgeous. You Skylar?"
"That's me." She purrs, flashing her teeth in a predatory smile.
I shudder inwardly, but force my exterior to stay flirtatious.
"Wonderful. They sent me to come find you - apparently something's wrong with the control center and the others can't figure it out." I lie through my teeth.
She tsks a little, rising languidly to her feet. "Of course they can't. Let's go, then. Wouldn't want a disaster on my shift, now would we?" She motions in front of her, still eyeing me like I'm for sale. "Lead the way, sugar."
Cashmere mutters something about unfortunate accidents.

Rolling my eyes but feeling sick, I do, letting my hips sway with my movement.
I can feel her eyes on my back, my legs - an uncomfortable sort of prickling that makes me want to curl in a ball and hide.
But, I suppose, better her eyes on me, where they are supposed to be, than on Rota, who’s already melting into the shadows, inching toward the hovercraft with near-invisible steps. Her camouflage is so perfect that if I didn’t know she was there, I wouldn’t see her at all.

 

The Tourmalayne siblings trail behind Skylar and I, Gloss' mouth drawn up in anger and Cashmere unabashedly staring daggers at the Pilot.
"Quickly, now." Cashmere orders suddenly, her voice cold. "We don't have all day."
Skylar turns to look at her, giving the Victor an imperious look before glancing back at me.
"Oh, don't mind them." I drawl, leaning forwards. "They're just here to make sure I don't have too much... fun."
She giggles, her breath hot on my neck.
I give Cash a subtle look.
I got it, I mouth, ignoring Cashmere as she makes a violent gesture towards the Capitol woman.

Skylar shoots Cash a triumphant smile, stepping forwards so she's by my side and trailing her fingers down my back.
"You're even prettier in person, you know." She says, her voice taking a sultry tone, fingers continuing to feather lower and lower down my spine.
Disgust and rage battle for dominance, but still I smile. "You flatter me."
Skylar leans closer, and I’m suddenly backed up against the cold metal wall of the hallway.
Rota's reached the plane, but she's not escaped yet - so I let her fingers trail lower and lower until they linger on my belt line.
"Get rid of your guard dogs." She orders, voice breathy as she presses her body against mine.

One word and Cash and Gloss would get her off of me. One word and she'd be on the ground.
But Rota's not gone free yet....
And Annie's life is on the line.
"Go on, Tourmalayne." I drawl, letting her run a hand through my hair. "Let me have fun."
Of course, they do no such thing. I shoot them pleading looks over Skylar's head, which is now occupied with my neck.
Gloss' eyes narrow. Cashmere gives me a "Are you fucking serious right now" face.
"Get out now." Skylar snaps, her grip on my hair tightening.
I wince a little.
She smirks, gripping even harder. Her voice turns sultry again. "Unless you want to see your friend -"

BANG.

Her eyes roll back into her head.
The hilt of Cashmere's knife has knocked her out as effectively as a bullet.
"I slipped." She says flatly, not even bothering to look guilty, lips curling as she looms over the unconscious pilot.
"Yeah, well, accident or not, thanks." I mutter, delicately pushing her limp body off of me and stepping away.
Cash bares her teeth. "I should kill her." She hisses, deliberately trodding on the fallen woman's hand as we make our exit.
A sickening pop echoes through the hallway as the bone breaks.

"Better hope this works," Gloss mutters. "If she wakes up…"

"Let her,"Cash sneers. "Tell Snow how she got distracted by a pretty face and left her hovercraft wide open. I’d love to see her explain that."
A hint of a smile appears on Gloss' face.
Fair point.
Anxiety and nerves and desperation course through my system as the elevator shoots us back towards the Mentors Room.

Alix and Nyke fight, the red-head on the defensive. Alix, though skilled, is no match for a trained Career.
"I'm going to kill you just like I did him." Nyke taunts, lunging forwards. Alix blocks, baring her teeth.
"At least my brother didn't try to be my ally. You, on the other hand..." Her sword comes slashing down Alix's face.
"You are a fucking monster." Alix hisses, blinking blood out of her eyes.
"Now, now." Nyke chides, slashing at her again. " Language, Alix. Kian's brothers are probably watching. What were their names again? Flux? Jayce?"
Alix's face goes pale from either bloodloss or fury.
"Get their names out of your FILTHY MOUTH!" She lunges, landing a savage blow across Nyke's stomach.
She staggers, bleeding heavily.
Cassian lunges forwards to help, but Nyke holds up a hand, stopping him. "I'll finish this traitor on my own." She hisses, despite the gaping wound in her stomach.

She readjusts her weapon and stumbles towards the other Tribute.

"Almost wish Kian was here to see me kill you."
Alix snarls. "You can try."
"Oh, I will."

But she never even gets the chance.

Quick as a fox, Alix darts forwards, feinting to the left. Nyke, slow from bloodloss, stumbles to defend herself, leaving her stomach and neck completely exposed.
Alix pounces on the opportunity, slicing her sword across Nyke's neck.

The other girl's eyes bulge.
She falls almost in slow motion, landing face down in the grass before Alix.

BOOM.

Jett, Cassian and Trinity looked shocked, three pairs of blue eyes set on the dead body. They lift their heads slowly to observe Alix.
"Well." She pants, head held high and eyes gleaming with renewed dignity, blood still pouring from the gash on her face.
"You can come kill me, now."
But they don't move.

"She deserved it." Says Trinity finally, her pale, pretty face still slightly green.
Jett nods agreement. Cassian still doesn't budge.
"Did you finish the - the boy from your District?" Jett whispers, eyes flicking back towards where Kian lies.
Alix nods. "It was a kinder death than what inevitably would have happened."

Beetee, who had been entranced by the screen, whirls to look at us. "Well?"
"Rota's in the craft." I report. "The dam - it'll go down."
Beetee smiles. "Good."

A hovercraft appears.
As far as the Tributes know, as far as the Capitol knows, it's to pick up Nyke's dead body, Kian's dead body.

But the driver doesn't go to them. She stops above the dam.
Something falls from it.

A pause.
We're all hushed, as if speaking will somehow ruin our carefully planned, carefully executed sabatoge.
Mags squeezes my hand.

And then the dam explodes.

Chapter 53: Failed Sucessfully

Water crashes through the arena.
The dam must have been holding back thousands upon millions of gallons.

Beetee grins, as though he can scarcely believe his eyes. "It - it worked. It actually - it actually worked." He murmurs, something like victory apparent in his gaze.

I laugh, disbelieving. "Oh - oh my God. We - we did it."
I turn to Gloss, turn to Mags, eyes wide. "We did it!"

Gloss is beaming. "I cannot believe that worked. Oh, my god. Wait, shut up. What's Heavensbee saying?"
The commentator of the Games is clearly panicking, but years of experience allows him to speak smoothly, "Yes, yes, it was all planned, of course. A specially designed Gamemaker.... earthquake. Very interesting."

Enobaria laughs wickedly. "Some Earthqua-"

BOOM.

Gloss' screen goes dark.

Beetee glances over, a hint of worry interrupting his satisfaction. "Did he drown?"
Gloss nods slowly. I lay my hand wordlessly on my friends' shoulder. Jett will, hopefully, be the last death in the Games. Ev-

BOOM.

"Who was that?" Wiress asks after a minute.
"Cassian." Brutus answers, voice low.

"How close is the flood to breaking the generator?" Enobaria asks Beetee, her voice hushed.
Beetee frowns, shoving his glasses up. "About five minutes away. It should break before they all -"

BOOM. Cashmere's tablet goes dark. Trinity.

Beetee pauses. "It should break before they all drown, but there's always a ris-"

BOOM. Luna's. Alix.

"How many are left?" Seeder asks, her tone low.
"Annie." I say, panic coursing through me.
She can't drown. She can't.
"Carson, too." Nash from District Ten says.
"And Paisley." Adds Quinn softly.
"Cedar's still alive." Maple finishes.

BOOM. My heart nearly stops. My tablet is still bright. It's okay. Annie's okay.
Mags' hand tightens over mine.
"She's okay." She says softly, almost to herself. "She's okay."

But Quinn's tribute is not.
Ian smirks. "Paisley ain't alive anymore." He sings under his breath, looking all too pleased with himself.
Miller, Quinn's District Partner, smacks Ian so hard he falls out of his chair.
"Shut your bitch-ass mouth, Five." Miller snarls, resting a wizened hand comfortingly on Quinn's shoulder.

Messing with either Victor from Nine is never a good idea.
Miller's the grumpiest man I've ever met.
He dislikes everyone, except for Quinn, a woman of about 30 and his unofficial daughter.
Considering Miller is built like a bull and Quinn won her Games in one of the deadliest arenas ever (more than half of the Tributes died from the Terrain) no one messes with either of them. Except Ian, apparently, but he's not exactly renowned for his good ideas.

 

Quinn smiles at Miller and rolls her eyes at Ian. "It's alright, I'm surprised she got that far. She was only 13." She says sadly, setting her tablet gently down in front of her.

BOOM.

"That was Cedar." Maple says.
A glare from Blight and Miller keeps Ian silent.

I whirl to Beetee. "What will happen if all but one drown before the arena breaks?"
Beetee's pleased expression has been replaced by fear. "I'm assuming they'll take them out and declare them as Victor."
Gloss goes pale. "And what will happen to us?"
"Whatever it is, we knew the risks." Cashmere says softly, pulling her brother into a hug.
Gloss grabs her tightly as she buries her face in his chest.
I clutch Mags' hand.

It's silent for a few moments. The big screen shows only water.
Beetee inhales sharply. "It's next to the generator. Less than ten seconds until the arena breaks."

I glance down at my screen. Annie's completely in the water, but she's treading slowly, her gaze unfocused.
In shock, but alive.
I turn to Nash. "Is Carson okay?"
Nash nods. "He's climbed a tree. He's safe."
I lean over to look at the Victor from Ten's tablet.
Indeed, his tribute, a short, stocky boy of about 16, is perched on a tree branch. He looks down at the water with great interest.
And then grins, like he knows exactly what's going on.
"Oh, dear." Carson says, loud enough for us to pick up from the Tablet. "Someone's getting fired for this."
And then, quieter, "Serves them goddamn right."

Nash smirks a little. "He's got quite the attitude."
Beetee laughs, relieved. "Less than a second."

BOOM.

Carson is still very much alive. I glance down at my Tablet, frantic.
Annie's okay, too.
I turn to Beetee, confused.
Nash looks equally bemused. "He's - he's fine. Nothing's wro-" His voice falters. His screen goes black.

"What happened?" I demand, my voice rising to a yell.
Nash doesn't respond.
Delaney, his District Partner, nudges Nash's shoulder a little, clearly concerned.
"Nash?"
The Victor from Ten looks up. "He was - he was fine." He croaks. "And then he just - he just dropped. Like someone had injected him with something."
Beetee inhales sharply. "His tracker." He breathes. "They must have killed him so they could have a Victor."

And indeed, the Victory Trumpets blare, Annie's name flashing across the screen.

VICTOR - ANNIE CRESTA - DISTRICT FOUR

The screen fades to black, Panem's crest appearing.

No one speaks for a long, long time.
I sink to the ground, letting the cold bite of the tile bring me back to reality.

We failed.
Though the arena is surely in shambles right now, no one will ever know.
All the Tributes are dead.
Except... Except Annie.
We may have failed, but she is still alive.

I hate myself for being so totally relieved.
That the Capitol chose to kill Carson, that Annie, my Annie still breathes.

For now, at least. There's no telling what will be done in retaliation.

Beetee clears his throat. "I'll take the blame." He says finally.
I whirl to face him. "What? Why would you do that?"
The older man cracks a smile. "This has my name written all over it. I've already lost enough. I don't mind taking the punishments for you." Gloss shakes his head. "Even if we'd allow that, which we won't, Cash and Fin and Rota and I are already knee deep in this. There's no backing out now."

"No." I agree. "There's not."

"What are we going to do now?" Whispers Delaney, her arm now slung around Nash's shoulder comfortingly.

Enobaria cracks a weak smile. "What we do best. Wait."

Chapter 54: No Peacekeepers, No Peace

Summary:

Mentions of suicide, torture

We're not waiting for long.

Within a matter of minutes, we hear Peacekeeper boots pounding towards our door.

Gloss has turned even paler than usual.
Brutus seizes his chair like he intends to use it as a weapon.
Enobaria bares her teeth at the door.
I seize Mags' hand.

The door slams open.
Two Peacekeepers are dragging Rota, who looks slightly dazed, nose bleeding.

Enobaria lets out a cry of rage. "What did you do to her?"
Ignoring the bristling soldiers, she marches up, snatches Rota out of their arms, and assists the trembling District Six Victor into a chair.

None of them move to stop her, but Delaney, ever the empath, says in a trembling voice, "Why did you hurt her?"
The Peacekeeper in the front, who, judging by the gold trim on his helmet, is important, says in a voice vibrating with barely contained rage, "You know why. Or-" He pivots, pulling out a gun and pointing it straight at Beetee, "- he knows why."

We're all silent for a moment. Until Gloss unfreezes and steps in front of Beetee, so the gun is pointed at his chest, instead. Three other Peacekeepers draw guns, pointing them at Haymitch, Seeder and Mags.
Wordlessly, Cashmere, Enobaria and I move to defend them.

"I will shoot you." The Head Peacekeeper growls, addressing the four of us, but mostly Gloss.

"No, you won't." Gloss says, cocking his head to the side with an arrogant smirk, in every way the cocky Victor from District One. "Because you know who we are. You know what we are. And if you shoot us, you'll be dead within a day."
His words are blunt, sharp, even cruel.
But they're true.
We're Capitol darlings.
We're beloved.
Forget the Districts - if word got out that one of us had been shot by a Peacekeeper, there'd be riots in the Capitol by sundown.

Gloss knows it. I know it. The Peacekeeper knows it.

His fingers tighten around the trigger. He wants so badly to pull it, so badly to make an example of Gloss, of what happens when Victors don't behave.
But he doesn't, because apparently he values his life.
He lowers the gun.
The rest of them, do, too.

"Whatever you thought you were doing with the arena," he growls, "it didn't work. And we know exactly which of you were meddling, exactly which of you are now traitors." He smirks then. "Maybe no one in the Capitol will realize, none of your adoring fans will understand why you're limping, but traitors will be punished."

My stomach churns. Oh, no.
When he speaks again, I'm fully expecting him to say my name, Beetee's and Rota's and drag us off. We, after all, were the main instigators in this - Beetee for planning it all, me for carrying out the thing with Skylar, Rota for driving the craft - but, no.
"You." He snarls, pointing with his gun to- to the Tourmalaynes.
No.

The Head Peacekeeper smiles savagely. "Maybe I can't shoot you, but the President himself has ordered you punished. The both of you are coming with me."
With a flick of his wrist, six Peacekeepers step forwards, three going for each Tourmalayne sibling.
"If you touch my sister, I will hurt you." Gloss snarls, baring perfect white teeth at the approaching soldiers.
They pay no heed, one reaching his arm out to grab Cash.
Gloss lunges for the man, his eyes flashing.
Suddenly, he's not the beautiful, polished 23 year old Victor. He's the scared, lethal 16 year old who won his Games, the dangerous boy who killed so many.
Gloss moves faster than anyone expects.

His fist crashes into the soldier’s jaw before the man’s hand can even brush Cashmere’s arm. The thug staggers back, snarling in surprise and pain.

Gloss’s eyes burn fierce, wild—no trace of the polished Capitol darling left. This is the survivor. The predator. The boy who fought for his life in the arena.
The Peacekeepers stand stunned for a moment. Then a group of them swarm the Tourmalaynes.
Enobaria, Brutus, Chaff and I lunge to help, but we stop in our tracks as a shot rings out.

It didn't hit anyone, clearly meant as a warning.
But our temporary distraction gives them the advantage they need, the Head Peacekeeper grabbing Gloss and slamming his gun to the Victors head.
Gloss writhes with fury, still back in the arena.
But none of us make any moves to attack them, not even Cashmere.
Because none of us want to watch Gloss die.

The Peacekeeper scowls at all of us. "Behave, you lot. Or you'll be following them."
His wrist flicks again, and they drag them from the room, Cashmere spitting curses as she struggles in their grip, Gloss' gaze still burning with fury.
Enobaria howls with rage, Brutus raises a chair - but they can't do anything, not with the remaining ten Peacekeepers guns trained at their heads.
"What's going to happen to them?" Delaney whimpers, Quinn's arm around her practically vibrating as she trembles.
"Exactly what traitors deserve." One of the Peacekeepers says, voices brisk and official, like they're talking about animals, not our friends.

It takes a lot of effort for me not to burst into tears.

Gloss and Cashmere were, for the most part, innocent. Their only crime was accompanying me.
If they are killed, it will be my fault.
And now Annie is in danger, too. After all we did to save her, her fate may just be the same as the Tourmalaynes.

Enobaria sinks into a chair, her face slack, terror wrecking her composure for fear of what will happen to her best friend, the woman who, over the years, has practically become her sister.
Brutus looks the most terrified I've ever seen him, sinking to his knees and doubling over, hands tangled in his hair. His hulking form, always so intimidating, falls like a crumbling fortress.

The Victors from Two are just as scared as me.
Gloss is to Brutus what Annie is to me.
Cashmere is to Enobaria what Kelton was to me.
Neither of us will survive if they don't.

No one speaks for what seems like almost an hour.
The Peacekeepersstand there, silent and stoic.
Beetee has muttered something that sounds like "Not again," His gaze locked on a trembling Wiress.
Mags, too, has gone pale.

I want to ask her what's wrong, but Annie's face is swimming through my mind on repeat, memories of her before the Games, of her kissing me for the first time, us sailing with Kelton - I truly do not know what I will do if they kill her.
I think I'll kill myself if they do.

Two blonde heads appear in my mind next - Gloss, making fun of the excess sugar in my coffee, Cashmere threatening to murder Lavelle, the both of them comforting me after Skylar, the heated look Brutus and Gloss exchange when they think no one's looking.
My friends.

My friends and my love are in danger, are probably being tortured.
And there's nothing I can do about it, nothing I can do to stop it.

I thought Annie's first day in the Games was the worst day, the most terrifying day of my life.
I was wrong.

Chapter 55: Mad as a Victor

We're not allowed to leave the Victors room for two days.
Brutus and Enobaria haven't moved.
The Peacemakers haven't left, either.
No news about Annie, Cash or Gloss, despite various demands for information.
(Well. Threats from Enobaria, demands from me)

Seeder and Mags have set up a pile of sweatshirts and jackets in which we can sleep.
No one, apart from Rota, has utilized it - although Ian's been alternatively passed out on the floor and is yelling at all of us because of a lack of alcohol.

My eyes are locked on the door, as if I'm willing someone to appear, to give some news. Honestly, I might have even been happy to see President Snow.
No one appears for such a long time, I wonder if I'm hallucinating when someone does.
The Head Peacekeeper, the one who dragged Gloss away.
I sit up ramrod straight.
Enobaria leaps to her feet, striding towards him.
I know her well enough to figure she's going to slam him against the -

The Peacemaker's helmet smashes against the wall, Enobaria's elbow to his throat.

"WHERE ARE THEY?" Baria roars, clearly past attempting civility.

The other Peacekeepers train their guns at her.

The Head just sneers at her. "You have one second to get off of me before I see to it that you never see either of them again."

Enobaria bares her teeth but steps back, letting him fall to the ground.

He rises gracefully to his feet, and sharp eyes peek out from behind the helmet as he scans the room. His gaze eventually lands on me. "Odair." He says, malice threading through his tone as he takes a half step forwards.
I lift my chin and stare him down, expecting to be dragged off like Cash and Gloss were. "Yes?" I won't make this easy for him - perhaps I could finish what Gloss started and give him a nasty concussion, at least.
"You're coming with me."
"Why?" Brutus demands, voice hoarse from a lack of use.

The Head Peacemaker sneers again, eyes not- so subtly raking over my body. "The Recaps, of course. Precious Annie needs her Mentor to be present."
I shoot to my feet. "I'm going to see Annie?"
"Unless, of course, you'd rather we tell her you're busy..."
"Take me." I order, stomping over so I can look down my nose at him.
I take no small amount of joy in the fact that he's forced to look up at me.
"Manners, Manners, Odair. Would you prefer to join your friends in the dungeons?"

Enobaria and Brutus snarl in unison, the latter rising to his feet. "Don't you hurt them," Brutus growls, shooting the Peacekeeper a glare so lethal I'm surprised he doesn't just wither.
But the man is clearly stupider than he is tall - he just smiles. "Oh, it's too late for that, Corthon. Don't worry, though, we're putting them to good use."
Brutus looks about ready to erupt. Putting them to - to use.
Oh, god.
The Peacekeeper turns his back to Brutus (Never a good decision) and grabs my arm. "Come on, then."

His grip is unnecessarily tight, but I allow myself to be towed, trying not to shudder as I hear the door slamming behind me. I hadn't realized there were more Peacekeepers outside of the door - in case Enobaria or Brutus got really pissed off and managed to break through the solid wood, I'm guessing. (You might think I'm joking, but it's happened before. Twice.)
I don't risk speaking until we reach the elevator, clearing my throat softly. "Is she okay?" I inquire, wincing a little as the hand tightens around my wrist.
He doesn't respond for long enough I've almost decided he's not going to.
"No." He says finally. "Something wrong - up in the head."

Oh, No.
Annie.

I whirl around to face him, no longer caring about the pain in my hand. "What do you mean? What's wrong with her head?" I demand, fear and rage manifesting in equal measures.

The Peacekeeper scoffs, rolling his eyes a bat. "She's mad as a hatter. Rambling about someone called Caprice or Kelton or something, screaming for - for her District Partner, the little one. What was his name?"
Dread is rising in my throat.
Oh, no, no, no -
Oh, god, Annie...

"Cody." I supply in a whisper, my voice barely audible.
"Yeah, him. Spacing out, won't let anyone touch her - we need you to get her cooperative so we can do the Recap. The Capitol wants their Victor."
He continues to speak and the elevator hums around us, but all I can hear is the blood pounding in my ears.

Mad as a hatter. Spacing out. Screaming for Cody.

Annie.

My Annie.

I knew she wouldn't escape unscathed - none of us have. Victors never really win, not really.
But...
Oh, Annie.

The elevator dings loudly, the doors sliding open smoothly. I can't get out of there fast enough, practically dragging my escort behind me.

Annie, Annie, Annie Annie, Annie -
The Head Peacekeeper uses a key to unlock a room I recognize as the one I was kept after my Games.
I bolt through the door, head on a swivel.
Annie, Annie, Annie, Annie - Annie.

A figure, wearing a wrinkled up blue hospital gown, is prone on the bed, her limbs cuffed to the posts. Her hair is matted to her head in a wild tangle, her eyes wild as they dart around in panic.

"Annie!" I gasp, running to her side. I'm somehow both soothed, relieved that she's still here and breathing and not visibly harmed, and also terrified, because the girl strapped to the bed is not the one I grew up with.

She doesn't look to me right away, but as soon as her gaze meets my face, something like recognition flares in them - and then disbelief, and then something else.
"Finnick?" She breathes, her voice hoarse from screaming. "Finn?"
I drop to my knees before the bed, nodding frantically. "Yeah, it's me. It's - it's me."
Annie's eyes rove over me. "But I - I heard you screaming - you were dying, you're dead they're dead Fin they're dead how..." Her voice trails off.
My heart feels like its been cracked into two.
Oh, Annie.
"I'm okay, Ann. I'm here. I'm here."
She's silent for a moment. "Really?" She asks in a voice so small, so quiet, so broken, I almost sob.
What have they done to my Annie?
"Really." I say firmly. "And you are, too. You're safe. You're here with me."

Annie's wrists flex against the bindings. "You're here." She repeats. Then she flails again in a violent jerk. "If I'm safe then why can't I move I'm trapped I'm stuck they're coming, they're coming they're coming Kian run go take Cody run go they're coming go-"
Just like before, her voice cuts off, but I can almost still hear her panicked rambling - her eyes darting around the room like she's cataloging escape routes.
This feeling is one I recognize, too. Whenever I enter a room, I analyze where I can get out, what might be used as a weapon. Not consciously.
But so I'm always armed.

"Ann. Ann, shhh, it's okay, you're safe. You're safe. They're just there to make sure you feel better, I promise. You're okay. You're okay, love, I promise." My voice breaks and I wrap her trembling hand in mine. She stiffens a little but doesn't tug away, her eyes traveling back to mine.
"Take them off." She orders, suddenly sounding like the headstrong girl I knew. "Take. Them. Off."
I squeeze her hand. "Okay. Okay, love. Just one second, alright?"
Without letting go of her, I turn to the Peacekeeper.
Harnessing every bit of Enobaria's rage, of Brutus' quiet fury, Cashmere's lethal glares, Gloss' sharp tounge, harnessing every ounce of Annie's unwavering loyalty, I speak.
"Take the cuffs off. Now." I say, barely recognizing my own voice. Cold and low and cruel, projecting all the fury I feel into the five words.

The Peacekeeper hesitates. "Not until she calms down." He says finally, regarding Annie with thinly veiled disgust.
"She's calm when she's with me!" I shout, narrowing my eyes in a vicious glare. "If you want her on cameras, if you want your Recap, take off the FUCKING CUFFS!"

He considers me. I can see it in his face—the itch to punish, the thrill of holding power over me. But he also knows I’m right.
He's silent for a second before fumbling for his belt, keys jingling.
He lobs it in the air, landing at my feet.
Without wasting a second, I scoop down, grab them, and go for her left wrist.
Her skin is damp with sweat, her trembling making it difficult to get a firm grip on the bindings, but I manage to have them all tumbling tot he floor within a minute.

Annie pushes herself to a sitting position, surveying my face.
"Fin?"
I nod slowly, settling myself shakily on the bed, legs dangling off the sides.
Annie reaches a shaking hand to my chest, right over my heart.
Her eyes widen in surprise. " Fin. "
I laugh through tears. "Yeah, I'm here."

Annie's hands travel from my chest to my head, running through my hair.
Then she collapses into my arms.
I let my head drop onto her shoulder, tears standing her gown a dark blue.

Annie.
Annie.
It's easy to forget all of what is wrong, with her in my arms - the familiar tickle of her curls pressing against my cheek, the soothing beat of her heart against mine.
Annie's here. I'm okay.
Annie's here. Everything will be alright.

Annie's voice is muffled by my shirt when she speaks again, "But - but I heard you. You were screaming - she was hurting you."
Pulling her tighter to me, I lift my cheek from her shoulder, looking down at her, confused.
"Who was?" I say softly, brushing a strand of her hair away from her cheek.
Annie shudders. "Nyke." She whispers, flinching violently at the sound of the name, and swiveling her head around as if saying it might have summoned her.

I frown, perplexed, for a second.
Nyke. Screaming. Hurting -

Oh.

Oh.

"Annie, that - that wasn't me." I say, nausea coiling in my stomach.
Annie looks up, doubt clouding her gaze. "Then who- who was it?"

"Run, Annie, Run! It's me they want, run!"

"It was - it was Kian, Annie." I say quietly.

Annie mouths the name, as if trying to figure out how it tastes. "Kian. Kian."
"Your ally. From District 5." I tell her softly, hands still carding through her hair.

Annie nods slowly. "Kian. Is he - is he okay?"
I press my lips together in a thin line. "I'm sorry, Ann. Nyke - she killed him."
Annie shudders again, pressing her hands over her ears, like she's trying to block something out.
"And - and Cody, too. " It's not a question, but I answer anyway.
"Yeah."
Annie's body jerks in a violent spasm. "Cody." She mumbles. "Cody, Kelton, Caprice."

Big green eyes look up at me. "Finnick?"
"Yeah." I murmur, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. "I'm here."
"I won." Annie says, sounding somewhat shocked. "I won."
"You're safe now." I promise.
It's not a lie. I refuse to let it be a lie.
She is safe now.

"They want me to do the - the Recap, Fin." She whispers. "I can't - I can't watch it again. I..."
She trails off, clamping her hands to her ears again.
"I know. You don't have to."

The Peacekeeper clears his throat. "Um, actually -"
"Leave." I order, voice cold. "And no cameras, either."

He huffs, annoyed, but turns and slams the door shut.
I turn to Annie.
"You don't think you could do it?"
She shrugs. "I- I could. But I'd get worse again. I'd go back - back there."

I don't need to ask where there is.
I understand.
She's getting lost in her own head.
Like me, once in a while, my anxiety a torrent wiping me away - before her Games, after the meeting with Snow.
Like Wiress, who can sometimes barely string a sentence together.

I hold her tight. "That's okay. I have a better idea, anyway."

And I do.
Really, I do.
I'll keep her safe. And I'll make sure she'll never have to perform, never have to suffer for their enjoyment ever again.

So I begin to speak in a muted voice.
Annie's lips curl up in a smile.

She's not mad.
I know it.
She knows it.
But they don't.

Chapter 56: Safely Insane

"Announcing... The Victor of the 70th Hunger Games.... ANNIE CRESTA!!!!!!"
Caesar's voice is booming in my ears - Tarquin, Celestine and Annie's prep crew don't seem to mind it, though, so I rein in a wince.

I have to remind myself not to smirk when I see Annie.
It helps to imagine what might be happening to Cashmere and Gloss - the expression my face takes on when I imagine their fate is suitable for this situation.

Annie is practically trembling in her seat, eyes flickering up and down and side to side frantically. She's twisting her fingers together desperately, knuckles turning white.
She looks mad, alright.

She's doing exactly what we planned, and she's doing it beautifully.
Her gorgeous eyes catch mine for a half second. Wicked amusement, grief, love, trust - all sorts of emotions roil through those eyes within that second.
And then she rips them away and returns to mad, wild panic.

Caesar grins out at the audience. He doesn't typically say much before the Recaps, but I'm imagining he wishes he could, just to divert the audience's attention from Annie.
I never knew she was a wonderful actress.
The big screen revs up then, the Recaps beginning to play.

From what I remember from mine, it was two ish hours long, devastatingly sad, and I sobbed the entire time.
Of course, I was trying to hide my tears, but Annie seems to be doing the exact opposite.
The second Cody's face pops onto the screen, she begins to violently shake, eyes darting wildly.
She presses her hands over her ears, too, which is the only reaction that concerns me, because I know it's real.
Whenever she sees or hears something that scares or bothers her, she'll doing it, like she's trying to drown out her own thoughts.

I wish I could tell her it wouldn't work.
It's impossible to drown out your own thoughts without the help of substances.
I'd know.

Cody's face and Kian's divert the only real reactions from her, though she lets out a convincing shriek at Alix and Nyke, as well.
I briefly explained to her what happened after Kian died, obviously not going into too much detail, so she knows what Alix did for Kian.
I promised her, however, she wouldn't have to watch it. We've planned it well enough that Caesar will have no choice but to take her out before Cody's death - if she sees anything past that, she'll return to the state she was in before I showed up.

And I refuse to let that happen. The next hour or so goes by pretty quickly, Annie convincingly selling her insanity whenever someone dies or Kian or Cody shows up on the screen. Some murmurs begin to break out into the crowds when Nyke almost kills Kian at the bloodbath and she actually screams, high pitched and terrified.
I know it's not real, but it chills me to the bone, too.

As the Games progress, Annie gets worse and worse. By the time Kian executes his plan to raid the Cornucopia, she's rocking back and forth in her seat so dramatically she nearly falls over.
Caesar is sending her alarmed looks, and the crowd's murmurs have begun to escalate. I hear more than one rendition of "Get her off the stage!" or "Poor girl needs a doctor." or "Mad as a hatter, that one." or "That earthquake really fucked her up."
It takes a lot of effort not to march over and sock the person that said the last one in the face, but my attention is diverted to the stage when Annie's screams get even more dramatic.

The bats emerge.
Annie's yell is loud enough to drown out even the screeching on the screen.
She topples from her chair, clamps her hands over her ears, falls to her knees and begins to ramble. "Get me out, get me out, can't, can't, can't, Kian, Cody, Kelton, Caprice, Kian, Cody, Kelton, Caprice, help help help need to get out Get out help save me need to GET OUT!" Her voice carries throughout the entire room, and everyone is shocked into silence.
Caesar clears his throat. "Annie, darling, do you need a - a moment?"
Annie just lets out a non-committal screech, pressing her head against the floor and clamping her hands even harder.
I school my expression into one of deepest concern.
Caesar sends me a look that is clearly demanding help.

I shrug helplessly and motion towards the door.
It looks like he gets the picture.
Caesar glances up, towards where I know President Snow is waiting, ready to crown Annie.
He won't like this, but if Annie is forced to stay here, it won't end well for anyone.
So he just nods towards me. "Get her out of here." He mouths.

I don't need to be told twice.

I step out of my seat and seize Annie's arm. "Come on, Annie, it's time to go." I murmur, tugging a little and nodding towards the door.
For the sake of the act, she struggles a little, but calms down when she "realizes" where I'm taking her.
Demands for explanations erupt in the audience.

When we get off the stage, Annie and I are both silent for the Cameras sake, or in case any prying ears might hear.
In fact, we both keep our mouths shut until we return to our rooms on floor four.

There won't be cameras here.
I release Annie's hand. She arches a brow, moving to the couch and slumping down dramatically.
"How'd I do?" She asks, propping her head up with a pillow.
I shake my head. "I was almost scared for you. Christ, Annie, you missed your calling on the stage." I announce, half impressed.
Annie nods seriously. "Well, good. It felt like I was being maybe a little too dramatic."
I plop down onto the couch next to her and wrap her in my arms, a wave of fondness crashing through me at her words.
"Have you met me, Annie? Nothing and no one can ever be too dramatic."
Annie rolls her eyes, leaning into the embrace. "Alright, drama queen. It's your fault if I'm known as the mad girl, now."
Better the mad girl than the desirable one, I think but don't say.
I don't want to ruin her mood, as the bad thoughts seemed to have been chased away with her victory over Caesar.

Instead, I just smirk. "I bet Snow's having a hissy fit right now." I say with no small amount of glee.
Annie grins, too. "Oh, I hope so. Deserves it, the little bitch."
There's the Annie I miss.
"I hope Caesar gets punished, too."
"Maybe he'll be turned into salad."
"Maybe he'll share his namesake's fate."
Annie collapses into giggles. "God, I hope so."

We sit in comfortable silence for a few moments more. "Where's Mags?" She asks finally.
I frown. "I'm not sure. Probably dealing with Celestine." Annie nods. "And your friends? I didn't see any of them; but to be fair, I wasn't looking too hard." She smirks at me, her smile dying when I don't return the expression.
My friends. The only friends I have here, really, are the other Victors.

Oh, shit.
I turn away. "Brutus and Baria were otherwise occupied." I hedge, frantically searching for another topic.
Annie doesn't buy it. "What do you mean, otherwise occupied? And where are the - the blondes from District One?"

My imagination goes wild.
Screams and pictures of what might be happening to them flash through my mind before I can stop them.
"Dead because of you."

All of them dead because of me, Caprice, Jasper and Rowan, Vera and Etta and Robyn and Corduroy, Tulle and Kelton and Cody and Kian, Alix and Trinity and Jett and Cassian and -

"FINNICK!" Annie yells, grabbing my hand. "Finnick, God, what's wrong? Where are they?"

I can't tell her. If she finds out people are being tortured for helping to get her out... I won't let her break again.

I just shake my head wordlessly.

Annie doesn't let go of my hand, searching my eyes. "It's okay, Fin. You can tell me. I won't break."
Except she might.
Except earlier today - earlier today, she was thrashing, bound on the table.
I can't tell her.
But at the same time...
I owe it to her to be honest.
Lies and deceiving about my duties for the Capitol cleaved us apart once.
I refuse to let it happen again.

I take a deep breath.
Then two.
"Annie," I say carefully, meeting her gaze at last. "There was - there was no earthquake."
She looks confused. "Yeah, there was. The dam cracked and the arena flooded and -" She breaks off, shivering, clamping her hands over her ears.
"Shhh, you're safe." I remind her, stroking her hair again, guilt pouring through me.
Annie inhales sharply. "I'm - I'm fine. Sorry. Okay. There was - there was no earthquake. What - what really happened?"

I glance at her worriedly.
I'm not sure she's really okay.
But then, are any of us, really?
Then I direct my gaze at the door. Once I'm sure no one's listening, I lean in so my lips brush her ear.

"We broke the arena." I breathe.

Annie just stares at me for a long minute. One. Then two. "How?" She whispers finally, like she's afraid of what the answer might be. "Rota dropped a bomb on the dam. Beetee thought the water would break the forcefields before everyone drowned... but..."
Her hands jump to her ears again. Before I can soothe her, she wrenches them away.
"So are the Victors from One - Cashmere and Gloss - did you have to kill them? To break the arena, I mean?" She demands, her voice getting slightly louder.
"No, they're alive. At least - at least I hope they are. They helped break it, but since it didn't work properly, the Peacekeepers caught on to it, and..." I can't bring myself to finish it.
Annie looks at me in mute horror. "So... they're being tortured."

I can only nod.
"Because of what you did to the arena."
I nod again.
"Why did you do it?"
"We... the Victors are unhappy, Ann. We don't like living like this. We needed something to change. We weren't originally planning to do anything this year, but when you were Reaped..."

She blinks a few times as if taking it in. "So you - you broke numerous Capitol laws to - to save me."
"Yes."
"And it spectacularly failed."
"Well. Yes."
"And now your best friends are being punished for it."
I look away.

Annie cups my cheek and forces me to look back at her. "God, Fin, you saved my life. They saved my life. Who was - who was all in on it?"
I list the names, counting off my fingers. "The Tourmalaynes, Enobaria and Brutus - More Enobaria, but Brutus sticks around her and Gloss - Beetee and Wiress, Mags and I, Luna, Rota, Blight and Axel, sort of, Seeder, Chaff, and Haymitch."
She shakes her head. "And they're... they're all alive?"
"As far as I know."

Annie's eyes filled with tears. "We've got to save them, Fin."
I let my head hang. "We can't."
"If they die, it will be for helping me."
"I know."
"I can't - I can't deal with that, Fin, I won't be able to deal with it."

Neither will I.
"They made their decision, Annie. And... and they're good people, but they're also vicious. I'm sure... I'm sure they'll be fine."

A single tear escapes. "I hope so."
I gather her up in my arms again. "Me, too, Annie. Me, too."

Chapter 57: Home, Salty Home (Part 2)

The train ride home seems shorter than usual.

Typically, the ride back always seems longer.
No chattering children.
Normally, no children at all.
Annie's my first Victor, so these rides have always consisted of Mags and I trying not to lose our shit.

This time, though, I have her.
Annie's in a sweatshirt and tights, curled up against my side. neither of us are doing much of anything - watching the landscapes pass, trying not to think about Cody or Kian or Alix or Cash or -
Trying not to.

Dare I say, it's nice.

This morning was a quick one.
Caesar's interview with Annie lasted all of one minute - he was far too scared to have a repeat of the Recaps to attempt to extend it.
So there was no talk of the Games itself, only returning to Four.
And then we were on our way.

Mays is perched upon an armchair like a queen on her throne, sipping tea and pretending to flip through a magazine.
Really, I know for a fact she's just watching us.

"How's the magazine, Mags?" Annie asks drowsily, raising a lazy brow at her.
Mags nods. "Riveting. Someone seems to think Enobaria and Brutus are getting married."

I choke on my own tounge.
"Sorry. Enobaria and Brutus? What, a lavender marriage, or something? There is no way in hell people actually think that."

Mags shrugs. "There's just a giant picture of them hugging in here. You remember, from that one time in the... the 66th? Not sure if they know how old it is... and maybe I'm missing something, but I don't see any rings." She says with disapproval.

I, on the other hand, smirk a little bit, picturing Enobaria's face when she finds out about this particular article.
There will be tears, and they won't be hers.

"Besides," Annie adds, "I thought Brutus liked the guy from One."
I laugh. "Yes, well, he does. All of us know this - except for Brutus."
Annie frowns. "Does Gloss-"
She stiffens as the word leaves her lips.
I wince.

Annie presses her hands against her ears, bending over so her forehead is against my knee.
Any mention of the Tourmalaynes sets her off.
No matter how many times I've assured her it wasn't her fault.

Mags scowls, the expression darkening her normally grandmother - y sweet face.
"Don't you worry, Annie, dear. " She assures her. Mags' voice always gets more difficult to understand when she's stressed or angry, and right now even I can barely comprehend what she's trying to say.
"They're far too liked to be in there for long. People would worry."

Well, yes.
And also, I think there would be a tiny little problem with certain Victors from a certain District who happen to have very sharp teeth and very big muscles.
It's never good for the Capitol when Baria and Brutus get pissed off.

A couple of years ago, A group of us - The Victors from One, Two, Mags and I - went to our favorite bar. It's sleazy and sketchy, but the owner is a sweetheart.
Anyway, we went to the bar. Someone, a greasy guy in his late fifties, had started to relentlessly flirt with the Tourmalaynes. We all laughed it off at first (there are multiple games we play that invole who can most creativley reject people, who can guess how many people will offer us drinks, etc) but then it had started to get alarming. When he'd physically grabbed Cash's wrist, Baria had snapped.

The man left the bar with a broken noise, a black eye, and a bruised ego.
We all thought that would be the end of it.

That was, until his photo had showed up on the news.
He'd been murdered. Violetnly.

Enobaria, perched on a couch in the Tourmalayne's room, had just shrugged and sipped her wine.
"Tragic," She'd said, sickly sweet.

I have no doubt she'll give a repeat performance if Cash or Gloss don't call her within the week.

I wish I could explain all of this to Annie, but, for once in a blue moon, Celestine has degined to make an appearance. And though she's violently drunk as always, she still has a functioning (ish) set of ears.
And I don't need a third friend behind bars.

So instead, I just stroke Annie's hair, telling her all about how we'll jump into the sea as soon as we get home, how we'll be neighbours, how we'll have to deal with our fellow Victor's antics.
After a while, she uncurls, leaning against my side again.

The rest of the ride is uneventful.
Mags begins to read her magazine out loud. My face and name are prominently featured, of course, though Mags wisely skips any stories detailing my latest partners.
Neither Annie nor I need any reminders of that.

When the green trees and countryside turn to yellow sands and blue waters, we get to our feet, stretching.
Home, Salty Home.

Annie perks up like a tulip when we pull into the trainstation, a beautiful smile splitting her face.
My brain seems to shut down so I'm only able to focus on that smile, on Annie's face, on her freckles, on how happy she looks -
"Finn?" Mags says, giggling. "You're staring, dear."

I blush scarlet, turning away. "No," I say, with as much dignity I can muster, "I'm simply appreciating beauty."
Annie's smile grows. "Just find a mirror, Finny, then you can appreciate beauty all you like."

My mind short circuits.
I'm used to people calling me things. Calling me beautiful.
But god, does it hit different when it's Annie.
"Yhank Tou-" I croak, face burning. "I mean - I mean..." I falter, sinking back to the couch and resting my head in my hands.
I give up.

Mags laughs aloud. "You know, a little humility is good for him. Wouldn't want that head of his to even bigger than it already is."
Annie giggles, and I sink my head further into my arms.

What is it about this girl that just erases every reasonable thought that I possess?

I'm forced to rise when the train jerks to a stop, displaying still vermilion cheeks.
"Aww," Annie coos, rising to her tip-toes to pat my head. "Such a cute little tomato."

The tomato is sizzling in the pan and thinks he's about to turn in to Ketchup. He barely notices as the train door slides open.

Mags laughs again. "Now, now, Annie, let him breathe. Poor guy looks like he's going to explode."
I nod dumbly.
They both cackle.

I'm given a moment's reprieve from the two of them when we step out of the Train.
Dozens of cameras, of course. Annie steps back into her mad act, shaking and whipping her head around and sniffing crazily.

I can't help but take a deep inhale, too.
Nothing like fish and sand and salt after weeks of Eau de la Capitol and the terrible cologne that the stylists always bathe Gloss and I in.

The Cameramen take in Annie's performance gleefully, no doubt excited to have more "Crazy Annie Cresta" content.
I force myself to keep a straight face.

We keep this up as we walk out of the Train station, keep it up as we walk to Victors Village.
Only when Annie slams the door behind us, shivering dramatically, does her facade drop.

"You should have been an actress," I say, awe filling my voice.
Annie just frowns, nodding distractedly.
"What?" I say quickly, worried I've triggered something that might upset her. "I'm sorry, Ann, are you alright? Is there anything I can do?"
Annie brushes me off with a jerky shake of her head. "No, I'm fine... it's just... why the hell do you not have your bathing suit on yet, Finnick?

My worries disappear as quickly as Annie's expression.
"You scared me, you diva."
Annie makes a motion with her finger. "Hurry up, or you'll be even scarder."

I'm not stupid enough to risk her wrath.
Messing with women from District Four is never a good idea.
They know how to cut off fish heads and human ones.
Be warned.

Less than five minutes later, I've obediently changed into my swim trunks.
Annie's in her ratty old one-piece, standing on the beach and staring out at the waves.
"God, I missed home." She says.
I nod, turning my face up to the sun and sighing blissfully.

"Race you to the dock." Annie says suddenly, splashing out with a whoop of glee.
She beats me to the dock. I wish I could say it was because of her head start, maybe that I let her win... but, no.
She truly does beat me.
Embarrassing? Nah. This is the best swimmer in District Four we're talking about.
I'm honored to lose to her.

We're in the water for at least three hours before Annie clambers out, demanding I put my talent to use and make her some fish.
I bow elegantly at the waist, flicking wet hair out of my eyes. "With pleasure, madame." I say pompously. "I shall go discuss with my father what culinary delights will be prepared for you this evening."

We trudge through the sand, our soaked suits creating little puddles in our wake.
Neither of us thought to bring towels, but that's alright - my house in Victors's village; Our houses, now - could use some salty love.
Since Annie's house, the eighth on the block, is still empty, we head to mine, number seven. (Yes, they're in order of our Game victories. The Capitol gets real creative.)

Neither of my parents were home when Annie and I changed, but this isn't weird. I don't see them very often, as they choose to live in our old house, and they've got work almost all day, even though I've got more than enough money now to support the three of us.

See, our relationship is tumultuous at best.

Before my Games, my parents and I were a team. Our dynamic was one of the Districts best; A lot of the time in Career districts, parents see their children as tools, as weapons to bring them the fame and riches that come with having a Victor for a child.

I was lucky.
My family never pushed me to volunteer, and had I not been reaped, I never would have been in the Games.
Nowadays, however... I couldn't bear to tell them the truth.
Not about what happened to Kelton, not why every other day I'm in some new Capitol person's bed.

They still love me, of course.

But they've distanced themselves, and reasonably so.

Still, they're still waiting at mine every year after I come home from the Games.
Most of the time, it's to comfort.

This year... it won't be to celebrate, not exactly. But Annie's come home, but we broke the arena to save her, but I'm feeling brave.
Maybe I'll tell them.
Maybe I'll get Annie to do so.

I open my mouth to tell Annie this, steeling myself to force the words from my mouth.
And then I close it again, glancing around.

The house is totally, completely quiet.
It's empty.

Chapter 58: The Last Ones Left I Love

Summary:

Character death :) not major like I didn't rlly explore them but it hurtsss the mc so grief and stuff yk

"Hello?" I call into the empty house, frowning.
Annie looks somewhat confused. "Maybe they're just running late." She suggests, resting a still wet hand on my shoulder.

I nod absentmindedly.
She's probably right, but I've never known my parents to be tardy.

Annie tries for a smile. "Or maybe they don't want to be seen in the presence of "Crazy Annie Cresta"." She suggests, somewhat bitterly.
I roll my eyes at her. "No chance. My parents wouldn't care about that. I'm more worried about..."
I trail off.

Worried about what? That the headlines and magazines about their son shame them? That they've seen too much footage, the wrong footage, of who I am and who I love?

I worry at my bottom lip. "I think I'm going to go check on them." I decide, pulling on my dry shirt from before and slipping into my shoes. Annie seizes her shirt and throws it on, as well.
"I'll come too," She insists, no questions asked, not ever. "Just in case."
I give her a little half smile. "Thanks, Ann."
She nods. "Of course." She says this like it is the most obviously thing in the world

Victor's village isn't far from my Parents' house.
I lived with them, of course, until I was sixteen. The ginormous estate I was given after my victory was inhabited, and had quickly become a favorite location for Kelton's babysitting charges, as it provided a multitude of hide and go seek spots.
And then, of course, all the shit went down with Snow, and I moved here and... well, no one plays hide and go seek anymore.

I shake my brothers name from my mind, tucking it where I store all of them.
Perhaps not the healthiest coping mechanism, but thinking about all the people I've lost, thinking about all the people I've killed... I'd be the crazy one.

Jogging along the road, I glance to my right to see Annie.
For once, I'm not distracted by the bounce of her hair as she runs, how her lips part slightly as she pants, how - Oh. Well. Maybe I am still slightly distracted.
But better than thinking about the alternative.

I don't think I'll be able to bear standing before them and listening to them renouncing me.

The two of us slow, as we approach the house by the beach, feet sinking into the sand and I strain, I long to hear their familiar voices.
I'm met with the lap of the waves. A familiar sound also, and usually one of great comfort, but today I hate it.

Annie glances at me. "Want me to go in to talk to them?" She offers, like she knows what I'm thinking.
I consider it, but shake my head. "It's fine, Ann. Would you... would you come in with me, though? Please?"
I'll need her to face this. And everything.

In response, she grabs my hand, callused palms warm and still somewhat pruney against my own.

I retrace the familiar steps, the beaten down path to the entrance, lifting my hand to rap on the rough driftwood door.
"Mom? Dad? It's Finnick and Annie." I call, my grip on Annie's hand tightening.
Silence.
"Mother? Father? I just wanted to make sure you were alright." I knock again, harder and louder.
Nothing.

My pulse jumps.
Oh, god, no.
I hesitate for only a moment before gently, gently, trying the door.
It's unlocked.
Oh, shit, no, no - I squeeze Annie's hand hard enough that my knuckles go white. She squeezes back, just as firmly.

 

And then I force myself to swing it open.
I'm expecting salt and brine and fish, the scents of my childhood. Instead, I'm greeted by the coppery tang of - of blood.
Panicked now, I notice the mess on the ground. A shattered pitcher, broken dishes.

My eyes travel farther into the room.
And I see the bodies.
I blink once. My body doesn't move, as if I'm registering what's before me.
Then it jolts into motion. "No," I breathe, "No, no, no -"

An arrow through their hearts. And one white rose at the lapel of my father's shirt, another tucked behind my mother's ear.
I fall to my knees, hands flying over them as rapidly as sparrows, trying desperately to find something, anything, any sign of life...
but they're cold. So, so, cold.
And the blood is congealing and...

The Capitol must have done it as soon as they figured out about the arena thing.
While Cashmere and Gloss are being tortured, my punishment is this much simpler.
A cruel trade, of sorts.
My parents for Annie.
I bury my face in my hands, letting my forehead drop to the floor.

I should have known. I should have done something, anything, got more information, begged him...

But I didn't, and now the rest of my family is dead.
My brother, my parents... and their deaths are all my fault.

Annie doesn't seem to agree, crashing to the floor beside me and clamping her hands over her ears, tight as vices.
"No," She gasps, wide eyes budding with tears, "It was because of me, because you got me out -"
Her eyes return to the bodies.

I am quick to respond, lifting my head, "No, Annie. No, love, it wasn't you. It was Snow. Always Snow." I inch closer to her, wiping furiously at my eyes with the palm of my hand.
She just shakes her head. "Kelton, Caprice, Cody, Kian," she mumbles, her voice a ramble, "Jonah, Liora... Kelton, Caprice, Cody, Kian. Jonah Liora Kelton Caprice Cody Kian JonahLioraKeltonCapriceCodyKian..."

I realize, suddenly, in my no less wretched state, that she has a list of her own. A list of her ghosts, those she believes she's let down.
But she does not hide them in her mind, like me, doesn't imprison them there - at no fault of her own, they escape her clutches, spill out her mouth, and now two more names have been added. Never mind the fact that she is blameless - I am the one who should hide them where they belong.

Maybe, in the long run, it is better for her guilt to make such frequent appearances, so long as they are short. Mine stays under strict lock and key. But I dread the day they will one day riot.
Then I will be the mad one.

I put my arm over her shoulder, pulling her close. I've learned during her attacks, she likes something at her back, presumably to guard her body while her mind is in turmoil.

The two of us stay on the floor for a long, long time.
Oddly enough, I don't cry, simply resting my chin on Annie's slumped shoulder.
I'm numb. Blank, erased, an empty slate. As if throughout the past few weeks I've sobbed out all of my emotions.

Eventually, when Annie's cries cease, I lift my chin and push myself up to a kneeling position.

Only then am I brave enough to truly regard the damage.
I know enough about archery to figure that this was either a very talented shot, they had an extremely advanced bow, or the arrows weren't what had dealt the lethal blows. Both shots are far too immaculate to be natural.
And, yes, as I ease the arrows out, I see they're made of fine material; probably fired by some bow that can be shot as easily as a gun.
Far more luxurious than the arrows I remember from the arena, the scratched metal - though that might have been because the Archer had shot and collected them so many times.
The scratched arrows bring another name to mind, and the thought of her causes my leg to twinge.
I banish these thoughts as quickly as I can, and instead seize one of the roses, dropping it ungracefully before my knees. I stand. Stare down at it.
No doubt, it's a message for me.
I crush the petals under my foot.

Annie wordlessly passes me the other bloom.
I give it the same treatment.

"I'm so sorry, Finn." She whispers eventually. "They... they really loved you."
I shake my head. "No. No, Annie, I - I never told them why I... why I did what I did. In the Capitol. I was going to try. Today."
Annie scowls fiercely, more tears budding in her eyes. "They still loved you. I know. Because I still loved you when I didn't know, either"

I am not numb anymore. "I -" The words die on my tongue. My eyes burn.
"Of course they loved you, Finny. Do you know how hard it is not to love you?"
I blink at her. Once. Twice. "Annie." I say finally, my voice hoarse.
"Yes?"
"Thank you."
She rises to her feet also, and presses her forehead to mine.

"Do you think this was revenge for what you did to the arena?" She asks calmly, quietly. No bugs or microphones that the Capitol might have planted in this room will pick it up.
I nod once. I don't think it is: I know.

Annie's lips quirk. "Well. I, for one, refuse to let their deaths be in vain."

I choke on a sob. "God, Annie, I wouldn't make you - We're not going to -"
She brushes her thumb across my cheek, wiping away a tear. "You're not making me do anything. They took my friends, too."
A deep breath. I know she pictures Cody, Kian, Kelton.
I take her in. All of her.
The tear stained face, ears slightly red from where she clamped her hands, hair wild - but eyes fierce and narrowed.

"We can't let them be in vain," my voice is wobbly, "None of them."

Her mouth curves into a bittersweet smile. "No," she agrees, "We can't."
She pulls even closer. "And we won't."

Chapter 59: Blood Runs Thicker

There are about six months in between the Games and the Victory Tour.
During this time, Victors are expected to enjoy their newfound fame and wealth, relax, and develop their talent.

Annie, Mags and I instead choose to spend almost every day together. Sailing, swimming, whatever; none of us like to be left alone with our idle thoughts.
There's no one else, really, who would accompany us, understand why I freeze for a moment if I see a pinecone, why Annie's head jerks up at the slightest rustle.
Except for the other Victors, of course. But poor Gilly hasn't being doing well lately, (Mags and Annie and I go over to his house to clean up about twice a week, as he's unable to get out of bed; he's hired a man to make his food already.) Rae and Blue are more interested in drugs and alcohol respectively, and Dorsal refuses to see any of us.
I had tried to take Annie to meet the other Victors. Gilly was happy to meet her, Blue was passed out but greeted us grudgingly when he woke, Rae was somewhat high but still blunt and brash as usual, and Callen was his gruff, grumpy, drunk self as always. Dorsal, though, was her typical self and just did not answer.
Not that I blame her, but still.

We're about to leave for the Victory Tour, and I grow alarmed. I haven't heard from Cashmere nor Gloss, not once. Neither have Brutus and Enobaria - I've been in regular contact with the Victors from Two, after what happened with my parents, to make sure something similar didn't occur to them.
None did, though I suspect that might be because neither have siblings and don't give a trout's ass about either of their parents. Or maybe because the uncertainty about the states of their most beloved people is punishment enough.
Either way, my worry for them is mounting.
Hopefully, we'll spot them in One, though my hopes aren't high.
I just hope they're alive.

Because she's "mad" The Capitol didn't make her learn a talent or anything. So long as they get her on the tour in one piece, they don't care.

As her mentor, it's, of course, both mine and Mags' job to accompany her. Celestine, to her annoyance, also has to come. she was quite content on my tour, but for some reason, she's pissed off today.
Maybe it's because of Annie's "insanity", maybe it's because she's especially hungover, but either way, she's snapping at everyone: Even Mags.

The first 7 days of the tour, Districts 12 through 7, aren't overly difficult for Annie.
Of course, she plays insane at all of them, she squirms and cries and shakes, but she gets on the stage and says her lines like she's supposed to.

I'm worried, though, because now we're heading towards District 5.

This, of course, is Kian's District, and I'm worried here, the episode will be real.
Like me in District Seven, Annie's predominant ally lived here.
Like me in District Seven, she'll have to face his family; though, for Kian, that will be his four younger siblings. That all relied on him. Whose big brother died to save Annie.

As we approach the grey scenery, her tan skin begins to pale.
"It's alright, Ann." I soothe. "It's okay. I know it's going to be hard. But remember, they'll be on your side. He - Kian - was your ally."
"I know," she whispers, "But what if they blame me for him dying?"
"They won't. You didn't kill him."
I'd know. I had to visit the Districts of people I've killed, and apart from Twelve, they were hostile. Luckily for Annie, though, there's no blood on her hands. So that will be easier for her.

"We're here!" Celestine chirps, bursting in and clearly not reading the mood of the room.
Annie stiffens. "Kian..." she murmurs, her hands trailing towards her ears.
Celestine frowns. "Yes, Kian and Alix. I've written your lines. Since they were... closer, to you, they're a bit longer." Her voice turns condescending. "Do you think you can handle that?"
I scowl at her, my voice rising to almost a yell. "She'll be fine. Give us a moment."

Celestine rolls her eyes. She's gotten used to me over the years, and I've brought her enough fame that she knows she needs to cut me some slack.
Celestine totters out of the train in her ridiculously high heels, only to be replaced by Mags, who seems to have been summoned by my yelling.
"Is everything alright?" She seems to have been asleep, as her voice is even more garbled than usual.
"Yes," I say shortly, "Just Celestine."
Mags nods her sympathy. "How are you doing, Annie, sweetie?" She asks softly.

Annie gives a little half nod.
"We really do have to go." Mags prompts us.

Annie rises to her feet and moves like a ghost towards the exit.
Mags sends me a concerned look but follows behind.

 

The last time I was in District Five was for my own Victory Tour, five years ago.
The two faces I saw on the massive boards were those of Nessa, the spunky thirteen year old with strawberry blonde ringlets and heavy duty glasses; and Milo, the sweet eighteen year old who'd been engaged before the games.
The people on their platforms: Nessa's father, who was crying buckets, Milo's furious twin and girlfriend.

Today, however, there is an entirely different situation.
We're backstage, Celestine having ushered us there as soon as we exited the train.
Annie's gasping for air, her face turning almost blue.
I wrap my arms around her, a strong presence at her back. "It's okay. Hey. Annie. You'll be okay. I know it's hard, I know - "

"ANNIE CRESTA, THE VICTOR OF THE 70TH HUNGER GAMES!" District Five's mayor hollers, cutting me off.
Shit.

I nudge Annie towards the stage. And then peer onto it myself.
And then I wince immediately.
Luckily, or maybe unluckily, Annie has to wait a few minutes for Five's mayor to give a little speech.
This, however, means there's extra time to stare at...

Alix's picture ripples on the presentation board, her vibrant hair tied in a high ponytail. She's smiling in a way that I'd never seen her do in real life, her brown eyes glimmering with amusement.
On her platform are only two people. A woman, with salt and pepper hair and deep wrinkles etched into her skin, and a little girl, practically identical to Alix in all but height.

Annie's eyes, however, aren't on the Female Tribute's side, but rather... Kian's.
Kian in the Capitol was silky red hair, perfect, practiced smiles, and glamorously made up features. Beautiful, yes, but fake.
On the board, however, he's messy locs, tired grins and under eye bags. Here, he doesn't look like a twenty year old - he looks like a boy, which is what he is.

Annie's gaze is locked on Kian's face. Wonder, or hope, or joy... something like that. Like she's seeing an old friend after a long time, which, I suppose, she is.
The smile disappears, though, when she looks a little lower.
Four faces.

Jayce, the youngest, has gigantic brown eyes, only made larger by enormous circular glasses. His hair is more auburn than Kian's fiery red, most likely because of the District Two genes.

Next are the twins, who, if I recall, are called Flux and Flare. They're the spitting image of each other, all straight noses and pale, freckled, skin, except for one difference. The one on the left is brunette, with hair as dark as Annie's. The other, however, shares Kian's red. They're fraternal twins, then, I suppose, though if one dyed their hair, they could pass as clones.

The fourth and final person on the platform, Rhett, the oldest after Kian, is where Annie's eyes stick.
Not because he looks angry with her, not because he looks anything like Kian.
But because he's identical to Nyke.
Dark hair, blue eyes, short, muscular... Just like Nyke.

The Nyke lookalike, Rhett, is muttering something harshly under his breath to one of his brothers - the red-haired twin. The boy scowls, but seems to obey, mimicking the brunette's perfect posture and polite expression.

And then it's Annie's turn to speak.
She accepts the microphone from the mayor, her hands practically shaking.
"The Tributes-" her voice falters." I can practically hear her thoughts, her mind demanding her to shut down, to crumple, to fade.

But then, Rhett looks at Annie.
He is Nyke, everything from his eyes to his lips - but Nyke's eyes are Kian's, too.

Annie blinks once. Twice. She looks into her old ally's eyes.
"The Tributes of District Five were warriors. They-" she stops again. Looks down at Celestine's notes. Frowns like she disapproves of them. And then looks away.
I grin. Celestine beside me gasps. "The notes. She looked away from them -"

"They were warriors," Annie says again, slowly, "but they were also wonderful people. I never got to know Alix," She directs this towards Alix's grandmother and sister, "But I condemn her bravery, her district loyalty, her sense of self, and her true, genuine, decency. I wish I would have had a chance to really meet her."

She takes a deep breath. Then turns to look Rhett right in those eyes that are also Kian's.
"I knew Kian. Or, I tried to, over the two weeks. I wish I had known him more. Apart from him and - and Cody, I'd never had a brother. But despite our short time together, he was the best sibling I could have asked for. He saved my life."

Annie and Rhett both tear up.
"I know that my grief in this moment is a fraction of what you, who had the fortune to know him your whole lives, are feeling. But know that I do not take his sacrifice for granted. I am grateful; so very grateful, that he's allowed me to be here today."

She addresses the whole crowd again once more, and backstage, I feel my own eyes start to tear up. "Without Alix and Kian, I'd be dead. So thank you for your children's lives."

"Rhett, Flux, Flare, Jayce," She meets each of Kian's brothers eyes in turn, "I'm sorry about your brother. In no way does this replace him, but please know that you will always have a friend, and a sister, in District Four."

At that, I begin to cry alongside Rhett and Annie, tears dripping down my nose.

Annie passes the microphone back to the mayor.
There's silence for a moment, interrupted by only my sniffling.

And then the crowd begins to applaud.
Annie doesn't care about them, though, looking instead at Kian's platform.
Rhett dips his head at Annie, tears still glistening in his eyes.
Little Jayce tips his own, tiny head to the side, and narrows his brow curiously at her.
The ginger twin smiles gratefully up at the stage, slinging a comforting arm over his sobbing lookalike beside him.

At the other platform, Alix beams out at Annie, tugging on the skirt of her nodding grandmother.

The mayor thanks Annie and ushers her off the stage, where she walks straight into my arms.
"Well done, Ann." I whisper, "You did so well. Kian would be pleased."
"Thank you." She burrows her head into my chest.
"I'm very proud of you." I continue, wrapping my arms tighter around her.
She pulls back and smiles a little. "I'm proud of me, too. I didn't think I'd be able to do that, but I'm glad I did. For Kian. And his brothers. They deserve it, I think."

I crush her in a hug. "I agree."

 

Chapter 60: Damage Control

District Three is next, and we get through it without any problems.

Annie has only fake episodes.
Since she kept her head in District Five, she needs to sell it even more here; and she does.

 

District Two, on the other hand....
Annie spends the entire speech glaring at Nyke's father, speaking about tragedies and honor. The man looks distinctly uncomfortable.
Mags and I "accidentally" spill things on him at the banquet, and even Celestine pitches in, loudly commenting on how "trashy" cheaters are.
Maybe not very subtle, but it certainly does the job.

Rarely do I find myself liking Celestine, but today is one of those odd occurrences.

I think I spot Brutus in the crowd, just a glimpse of that unmistakable frame—but I can’t get close. I don’t see Baria at all. It’s not the Victors who are avoiding me; I can feel that. This has the Peacekeepers’ fingerprints all over it. Deliberate, cold, controlled.

In District One, I don't pay any attention whatsoever to Annie or the mayor speaking.
I spend the entire time combing the audience, looking desperately for Cashmere and Gloss.
A couple of times, I think I've spotted them; but in a sea of blonde heads, it's difficult to pinpoint either Tourmalayne.

Maybe it's a good thing I'm distracted, though, because a quick glance at Jett and Trinity's faces makes me want to cry.
The two Tributes from One drowned because of the dam. Because of my actions. It's my fault they're dead.

Almost as devastating is the absence of family members on either Tributes' platform.
Annie notes this with a shiver, but when she runs backstage, her eyes are bright.
"I saw them." She says quietly, looking up at me with excitement. "Cashmere and Gloss. I saw them."

My head jerks up. "Really?" I demand, trying my best to be quiet.
She nods. "I know it was them. Cashmere had that jeweled knife that you mentioned, and they were leaning on each other. Oh, and when they saw me, they pointed and smiled. They looked relieved."

No one else would ever dare to touch Cashmere's knife, a beautiful weapon that Enobaria bought her for her twentieth birthday; so I know Annie must be correct.

Relief courses through me, strong enough I almost stumble back. They're alive. They're alive, and they're healthy and here.
"Oh, thank God. Thank God." I breathe, crushing Annie in a hug. "I'm so glad. Thank you, Ann."

She beams. "I'm glad, too." She murmurs. "So, so glad."

 

Their appearance makes the drive to the Capitol much, much easier for both Annie and I. We sleep easier knowing they're alive.
I desperately want to call Enobaria and Brutus, but unfortunately, we can't on the train.

The Capitol is a flurry of excitement and color and food. I remember despising it during my tour.
Luckily, there are very few people who want to dance with Annie, due to her insanity, so she's largely left alone.
I, however, am not.

They drag me from one conversation to another, parading me like a trophy. From arm to arm, from mouth to mouth, I smile until my cheeks ache. Annie watches me from the corner of the room, her expression dark. She looks furious on my behalf—and somehow, that makes it just a little easier to bear.

 

The Victory Tour, of course, wraps up at home in District Four.
Cody also already had a funeral, but Annie and I still cry, his adorable face grinning at us from the platform.
The rest of the night is spent stuffing ourselves with sushi rolls and practically rolling in sand, so relieved are we to be home. -

Now that the Tour is over, Annie will never have to be the center of the Capitol's attention ever again.
Our plan; or, at least, the one to portray Annie as mad, worked like a charm.
Thank God for that.

Chapter 61: The Two-Time Token

The months after the Victory tour go by quickly.
Just Annie, Mags and I, in the ocean, on the beach, sailing, blissfully alone.

Somehow, though, that time snuck right by us, and it's already July 4th.
The 71st Hunger Games.

This always fills me with dread, only this year, it's for more reasons than the obvious one.
There's my patrons, of course, but in this Game, Annie's a mentor.

I'd assumed, because of her insanity, she'd be exempt from the typical Victor duties.
And I would have been correct, because Mags and I are mentoring the District Four Tributes.

The only problem is, Maple, the only female Victor from District Seven, and one of its two able mentors, died earlier this year.
Devastating, of course. Despite being in her late eighties, Maple was, frankly, hilarious, and a good friend of Mags.
But it also means Blight is Seven's only mentor.
Considering Twelve has gone without two mentors since forever, I assumed Blight would just go solo.

But, no.
Snow decided Annie will take Maple's place and mentor alongside Blight.

Again, not sure why he chose Annie or why Blight can't just do it on his own, but we're all being especially well behaved this year, after last Games'... events.

We're on the train now, Me, Mags, and Four's two Tributes, Pontus and Cascade.
Annie left a few days ago for Seven. The Train's important, as without it, the Tributes lack important time with their mentors. I obviously wish she was here with me, but she's not on our team, not anymore, and it would be agony to get to know our Tributes only to help their opposition. Plus, it isn't really fair.

Honestly, though, she's not missing much.
Cascade and Pontus are difficult at best and vicious at worst.

They were both Reaped - Pontus wasn't happy about it, struggling on his way up the stage, and later nearly killing a Peacekeeper after the man pointed a gun at him.
Cascade, on the other hand, came easily.
She's no less surly, but she's quiet, and almost... sad.
Something tells me she would have volunteered anyway, had she not been Reaped.

For those reasons, I gave myself Pontus to Mentor; not because I like or want him (I don't) but because I refuse to let him anywhere near Mags.
Cascade, though snippy, won't physically harm her.

Anyway, the four of us (Celestine's in her room) are watching the Recaps.
I immediately assume the both of them intend to be Careers, so I pay special attention to Districts One and Two.
The First Tribute up, District One's girl, is a volunteer, though like Vera, she replaces what seems to be her sister. She's pretty in the way District One always is - Though she's a rare brunette in a sea of blondes.
The boy, stocky and blonde, is a true volunteer, lunging forwards before a name is even drawn. The pair of them, Peridot and Damask, look pretty lethal.

District Two's girl, Terracotta, is equally as terrifying, but the true surprise comes next: Her District Partner, Mace, is tiny, and only 12, while 3's boy, Electron, is formidable.
A rare thing; as usually, it's the opposite.

Pontus and Cascade present well, both old and large enough to make an impression. The Capitol has edited it to make it look Pontus more willing. He rightfully looks furious.

District Five is typical, but Six throws me off. It's female Tribute is, frankly, a lunatic. She's tiny and young, but practically foaming at the mouth. Even her 15 year old District Partner, Gage, looks alarmed.

Pontus snorts. "Fucking psycho." He grunts. I can't tell if he says it in approval or fear.

And then comes District Seven.
I lean forwards slightly, my head pounding, as I wait to see who Annie will be mentoring.
Seven's escort, a odd looking man who I've no clue the name of, announces in a reedy sort of voice... "The Female Tribute from District Seven is... Johanna Mason!"

My heart practically stops.
Johanna Mason.
Johanna Mason.

Johanna Mason, the younger sister of - of course.
I should have guessed.

Of course President Snow would want Caprice Cresta's little sister to Mentor Jasper Mason's.
Of course.

The last time I saw my old ally's sister was at my Victory Tour.
Now, as she marches across the stage, she's grown.
Sharper features, taller, and, judging by the look in her shrewd eyes, a whole lot smarter.
What is the same, though, is the vial of pine needles around her neck, Jasper's token preserved.

It is, I suppose, her token, now, as she goes into the Games.

I'm going to be sick.
Not only will Johanna die after I swore to Jasper I'd protect her, but Annie will have to watch as it happens?
Just when I thought the Capitol, just when I thought Snow couldn't get any worse.

I suppose I must have been gaping at the screen, but I come back to reality as Pontus pokes me in the stomach. Hard.

"What's wrong with you?" He demands roughly, not looking particularly concerned.
I shake my head dully.
Pontus rolls his eyes. "Great, my Mentor is just as crazy as the Cresta girl. What's wrong, Odair, did the Capitol fuck the brains out of -"

He doesn't get a chance to finish. Cascade, teeth bared and eyes flashing, jerks forwards and slaps her District Partner straight across the face.
"Fuck off, you fat oaf." She snarls.

Pontus and I both freeze for a moment, before he lunges at her.
"You - you bitch!"

It's all I can do to fling myself in between them, holding Pontus away from a now smirking Cascade.
"LET ME AT HER, ODAIR!" Pontus roars, writhing in my arms.

I, of course, do no such thing. Though Pontus is quite large, he's two years younger and about ten times dumber than me. No matter what threats he bellows, he's not budging until I allow it.
Cascade, ever the instigator, is now howling with laughter, much to Pontus' rage.
Thankfully, Mags calms her down, touching the Female Tribute's wrist gently and steering her to sit on the couch.

After a couple more minutes, and a show of the Tributes from District Ten, Pontus ceases his thrashing.
"Let me go." He says sullenly, slumping.

I roll my eyes at Mags, who shakes her head, exasperated.
"Are you going to attack Cascade?" I counter.
Pontus growls. "....No." He relents finally.

I release him, and he stalks over to sit on the opposite end of the couch, as far away from Cascade as he can be.

Districts Eleven and Twelve don't seem to pose any sort of risk.
What's interesting, however, is Eleven's fourteen year old girl, Rosigold, who looks more District One than Eleven; The classic blonde hair and pale skin. Only her light brown eyes distinguish her.

I suppose this is to Pontus' liking, as he grunts his approval. "Pretty." Not admiration so much as hunger. Like he wants to watch her as she bleeds. Like they all do to me. It doesn't escape my notice that Rosigold is the same age I was when I won. Oh, I hope she doesn't win.

Mags and I scowl at him.
Cascade smiles sweetly, pursing her lips at Pontus. "Why, thank you."
I seize Pontus' fist before it can strike her.

 

Pontus' episode takes my mind off of Johanna until dinner.
It's only then do I corner Mags, my thoughts racing too quickly for me to handle.

"It's her." I whisper, "It's Jasper's sister."

"What?" Pontus blurts loudly, inserting himself into the conversation.
Without looking, I shove him away, wrapping Mags into a hug. She whispers to me under her breath. "I know, Finn. I am sorry. I will help her. I promise."

I just shake my head, pressing my face against the crown of her hair. Mags makes comforting sounds, carding her fingers through my curls. Thank God for her.

"What's going on?" Pontus asks again, this time addressing the question to Cascade, whom he's apparently forgiven.
She shrugs, clearly not caring. "Probably upset at how much work it's going to take to get you looking half decent for the cameras." She darts away before he realizes it's an insult.

I don't see either of them for the rest of the night, though the amount of Avoxes walking to and from Pontus' room suggests he's sampling all the Capitol cuisine. (Even after our four course supper.)

I, on the other hand, spend the night alone, wishing I was with Annie. I need so desperately to call her, because I know she will be in a constant state of turmoil. Having to mentor Johanna Mason will be as bad as me having to mentor her. Poor Annie, Poor Annie. It hurts me not to be able to comfort her. I ache to be at her side. I spend the whole night tossing and turning and wondering what the hell I'm going to do.
How do I protect a girl that's been condemned to death? It's not fair to Pontus if I completely abandon him to help Johanna. But then, does Pontus deserve justice? If I decide which kid deserves to live, I'm as bad as President Snow. But Annie...

I'm eventually lulled into an uneasy sleep, pretending the motion of the train is the lap of the waves, and Pontus' loud snoring is Annie's gentle breaths.

 

Mags and I wait at the chariots for the Parade.
No sign of Annie or Johanna, but both Pontus and Cascade look somewhat presentable, though their outfits are rather odd.
I have no doubt the both of them were incredibly difficult during their prep sessions.
But at least they're clean and neat.

Or, at least, they were neat.
Cascade has, somehow, already managed to smudge her mascara and eyeliner.
This is because she is currently literally doubled over wheezing, crying of laughter.
At what, you might ask?

Well, her fuming District Partner, of course.
Six foot three, larger than your average tree; and dressed like a seahorse. Yes, you read that right. A seahorse.

The clothing itself isn't awful; flowy fabric in shades of orange, coral, red and pink. Somewhat odd, but typical for the parade.
What's set Cascade off is the headdress.
Fair enough, as I'm having quite some trouble preventing myself from cackling, too.

I'm not sure if Cascade just simply refused to don the seahorse costume or if she'd shattered it on the floor or something similar (I wouldn't put it past her) but instead she wears armor that looks to be made of coral, and upon her brow is a sort of crown made of the same stuff.
It is no small feat to get two whining, complaining teenagers into a chariot. At the moment, Cascade is too busy sneering at the other Tributes, and Pontus is scowling mutinously at his reflection.

Mags I and somehow manage, it, though, me snapping at Pontus that he'll look even stupider if he's not on his goddamn chariot, and Mags carefully fixing Cascade's makeup.
They're off and trotting in their chariots just as they're supposed to be.

Throughout the Parade, I try to look for Johanna upon the District Seven Chariot, and I do catch a few glimpses of her; scowling as hard as Pontus, dressed like a tree and seemingly immensely displeased with all of this.
I don't get more than that, however, for two reasons: Her District Partner, Foster, if I recall, is standing in between us; and my Patron of the night, Demetrius Auriele, is quite large and kind of stands in the way.

Still, it's better than nothing, and I make a mental note to talk to Annie as soon as I see her about angles.

When the Parade is over, I still have to deal with Demetrius; second nature, at this point.
My body does what it's supposed to do, my brain goes and hides somewhere far, far away, and then it's over and I'm free.

Some of the most elite of the Capitol rent rooms in the Tribute Center to watch, to utilize us Mentors, et cetera. Demetrius isn't that wealthy, apparently, taking me back to his own, admittedly gigantic house.
Mags drives me back, as I've actually not a clue how to operate a car, and the pair of us trudge back up to Floor Four.

I'm expecting both Cascade and Pontus to be in bed by now, as it's about 3 in the morning, but they're both up, scowling at each other, the Tv, and now, us.
"Where have you been?" Pontus demands.
"That," Mags says calmly, "Is none of your business."
"What?" Pontus says rudely.
"She said it's none of your business, dumbass." Cascade snipes.
Mercifully, Pontus ignores her, still staring at me for an answer.
"I was getting you Sponsors." I say smoothly.
This seems to satisfy the male Tribute, though Cascade wrinkles her nose like she's smelled something foul.

I get the feeling once more that she knows more than she lets on.
And, as she glances at her pristine hands, I feel as if she's done more than she lets on, too.

Chapter 62: When Fear Wins

Summary:

This is my official apology for it being 20 days - TWENTY DAYS!?!??! Since I last posted a chapter.
Um.
Yeah so it's been a lot with school starting again (kill me please. No genuinely please do it)

And also I've been devoting a ridiculous amount of time to the other work in this series, because I've grown attached to those characters (even though they all have to die because thus is the nature of the Hunger Games.)

So ANYWays, enjoy this chapter.
And I promise it won't be so long in between next time!

It becomes apparent very rapidly that Pontus and Cascade are most definitely not morning people.
Or anything people, really.

"Pontus," I say, fighting to keep my voice calm, "You should probably eat something. Training is hard on the body, and -"
"No." He crosses his arms over his stomach, jutting his chin defiantly.
I exhale loudly through my nose.
"Pontus-"

"Oh, don't bother," Cascade grumbles, reluctantly chomping on some sort of pastry, "He ate enough last night to sustain a family of five for months. He'll be just fine, energy wise."

Mags is clearly fighting a laugh, and Cascade shoots her a rare smile.
"Be that as it may, it might help to wake you up, as well." I explain, glaring at Mags, who just shrugs.
"I'll wake up in training." He stomps off.
Cascade cackles delightedly.
I drop my head into my hands.

I don't know how or why Kelton did this babysitting stuff. Voluntarily.
Mentoring Pontus is like trying to reason with a sulky seven year old.

 

Nevertheless, Cascade and Pontus get to training in one piece.
Whether they return in the same condition is, frankly, not my problem.
And by the glare the Boy from One is already shooting my Tribute, it's definitely no guarantee.

Last year, I was obviously reluctant to leave Annie and Cody in the Training Center, lingering to stay with them as long as humanly possible.
This year, I'm out of there as quickly as humanly possible.
Pontus and Cascade will be fine. Annie, however, very well might not be.

Mags and I walk, or in her case, hobble to the elevator as quickly as we can.
Of course, the stupid machine takes a ridiculously long time getting to the correct floor, because of course it does because it's a fucking -
I swear, this thing lives just to spite me.

After about a century, the elevator gets to the right floor and I run, fling open the wooden door and -
Five heads shoot up.

Baria and Brutus, Cash and Gloss, and... Annie.

She's sitting on a couch, fingers wringing together, face pale as a ghost.
"Annie." I gasp, striding across the room and wrapping her in my arms. "God, An, I'm so sorry -"
"It's - it's her." Annie's voice trembles, burying her head in my chest. "It's her, it's Jasper's sister..."

Someone inhales sharply, as if they're realizing exactly who it is Annie's mentoring.
I ignore them, however, focusing entirely on the trembling woman before me.
"I know it is. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

"I can't do it, I can't mentor her, not on my own."
"You won't have to. Blight will help you, and Mags and I, too." I assure her, stroking her hair. "You won't. We'll get her sponsors. We'll try our very best to get her out."
Annie sniffles, and mumbles something along the lines of "Can we... break her out? Like you did for me?" I didn't catch her words exactly, and I open my mouth to ask, but never get a chance to.

"NO!" Someone shrieks. Something crashes to the ground.
Both Annie and my head shoot up.

Gloss stares at us, hands trembling. He truly doesn't look well, his hair oily, bags under his eyes, and clothes rumpled. Some sort of vase lays shattered at his feet, no doubt the cause of the crash.
"We can't." He shouts, "We can't do anything bad, not like that, or they'll killl us, they'll kill us all - His voice falters. "We can't." He whispers desperately.

Annie's ceased sniffling, eyes wide as saucers. Brutus and Baria stare at their friend like he's grown an extra head. Seeder, Chaff, Haymitch, Beetee, Wiress, Mags and Blight look quite concerned. Delaney and the rest of them frown at him, worried by the crash.
Even Ian, Axel and Rota look up from their various afflictions.

Only Cashmere doesn't stare at her brother with shock.
Her expression mirrors his - terror. Utter, total, terror.

No one speaks for a solid two minutes.
Brutus clears his throat.
"Gloss," he whispers, lip quivering. "What - what happened to you?"

"I - I - can't say can't say... it hurts it hurts... where's Cash, WHERE IS SHE WHERE IS SHE?"
His head whips from side to side, eyes flickering.
"SHE'S RIGHT HERE!" Baria has to shout to be heard over him. "Right here, Gloss. She's right here."

He visibly sags. "Cash. Cash..."
He collapses at her side, dropping his head against her shoulder.
Cashmere wraps a protective arm around him. "They're gone." She assures him. "They can't get us anymore. They're gone."

"Who's gone?" I demand, unable to restrain myself.
My mind is racing, fear and confusion coursing through me.
What happened to the Victors from One? Was the torture the Captiol put them through enough to turn them from their bright selves into... shells?
For that's what they're behaving like, seashells with their inhabitants long fled.

Cashmere looks up, eyes alight with fear.
"The - the doctors." She whispers.
Gloss shudders violently beside her.

"Doctors?" Baria prompts softly.
Gloss inhales sharply. "Needles and - and God it hurts make it stop make it stop -"

"Do you... do you want some water?" Wiress asks softly, extending a cup forwards.

Both Tourmalaynes shoot to their feet.
"Get that - get that thing away from me, no, no, no -" Cash rambles, sprinting as far as she can get from Wiress and pressing herself against the wall.
Gloss follows, eyes round with fear. "Please, please, no more, no more. Please, not again..."

A tear slips down Brutus' face.
Confusion and anger are apparent in Baria's eyes.
I glance at Annie, who is watching the siblings, eyes wide. "What's happened to them?" She asks quietly. I shrug, brow wrinkling with worry. Were they tortured with water, and are now terrified by it? But that wouldn't explain the insistence upon complying with the Games, not really. And they seem so scared..."

"What's going on?' Baria demands, baring her teeth. "Somebody tell me what to do."

"I - I think I know what has happened." Beetee says suddenly, face draining of color. He wipes his glasses on his shirt and peers at the Tourmalaynes. "Wiress, put that away. Now." He says sharply.
"Please, put it away..." Gloss seems to agree, his tone pleading as he grabs Cash's arm. "It's poison, it's poison, it'll kill you, don't touch it -
Looking somewhat shocked, Wiress does.

"Beetee," Brutus says feebly, "If you know what's happened to them, tell us how to fix it."

The Victor from Three expels a loud breath. "Here's the thing. I don't know how. I don't even know if it's possible without medical help."
"Why?"
Beetee shakes his head, a million emotions raging in his large brown eyes. "If I'm correct, while in the dungeons, the Capitol experimented upon them. The last I heard, it was still in the testing phase - perhaps that's what the guard meant by putting them to good use."
Baria and Brutus turn a shade of green. I feel as if I'm about to lose my breakfast.
" As far as I'm aware, the method uses a combines tracker jacker venom, (which can cause powerful hallucinations, delusion, and fear) as well as physical pain to distort memories or sentiments around certain things. It appears they've been... well, hijacked, I suppose, into being terrified about any sort of rebellion. And... well, water."

"They've been... they've been hijacked." I repeat numbly.
Beetee nods grimly.

Hijacked.

Notes:

So HEYYYY!
I just realized that this fic has... Seventy. Fucking. Nine. Kudos.
And like Twenty Seven comments (probably half of which are me responding because I LOVE talking to you guys but hush that doesn't MATTER)
And many many views.
And some BOOKMARKS tooo!!!!!!

Y'all are actually so sweet.

Even though this is just a cute little - (lets be real. it's not little or cute. It's LARGE and TRAUMATIZING.) - fic about my fav characters, it really makes me proud and boosts my confidence to see people actually reading and yk liking my writing.
So thanks sm for Kudos-ing (yes it's a verb now) commenting, bookmarking, or even reading this.

It means so so much to me y'all don't even know.
Love you so much thanks for being here and supporting me 🫶
- Charstar548

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 2 of Untold Stories