He saw them coming from a mile away. He knew they would capture him, kill him. He knew he had lost. The ghosts of all the people he'd killed pressed around him, whispering curses that didn't touch him. He'd lived with them for years now, ever since he had handed his first campaign director that first goblet full of poison, ever since he drunk his own vat of the stuff. His brain had deteriorated with his body. He had just enough sanity left to know he was a lost cause.
He did not bother to struggle very much when he felt the firm hands wrap around his arms, and the rough kicks batter his calves. Did the beloved Mockingjay know of the cruelty with which they treated him? Did she care? He remembered one of the first times he had spoken to her personally, in her small study in Victor's Village. He hoped the scent of his bloody roses lingered after him, forever punishing her for destroying his empire. He hoped she sobbed, and writhed at the thought of him. He hoped she checked behind every door, searching for his cocky smirk.
It was a shame, really, because he knew she could be great if she cooperated. Sometimes he allowed himself to wonder what the outcome of the war would be if she chose to fight for him, to inspire people to support the Capitol. It was pointless, he knew, but he enjoyed fantasizing about a better life. (It occurred to him that this is what the Districts had been doing for many years before him, but he promptly pushed away any remorse the thought inspired in him. Even Katniss knew that self-preservation came first.) He attempted to stop, and to focus on Peeta, the one he did have, but something about her was fascinating, and magnetizing. She was not naive, but she was still so charmingly innocent. He laughed to see her wince at any indecency in the arena. She was talented too, and smarter than people gave her credit for. The berry move, as much as he hated to admit it, was genius.
It was a sick, unhealthy kind of obsession he had with her. Her strategies, her moves entranced him. Everything she did was obscure, deadly, and rebellious to both the rebels and the Capitol, just for the thrill of being her own person. That was his fatal mistake, he realized. She would not tolerate being used as a puppet.
And now, she sits inches away from him. He can almost feel his fingers closing around her throat, just as he commanded Peeta to do. But he restrains himself, because he has learned some things in his lifetime, and strangling a girl who is surrounded by guards would only speed up his death sentence. Besides, he doesn't particularly care about killing her. It's all of them he wants to destroy. He will have sow the seeds of destruction carefully now. So he waits patiently, until she gets out with whatever she wants to say.
For a moment, he is surprised when she accuses him of killing her sister. Was the righteous Mockingjay not as involved with the bombs as the rebels liked to pretend? Well, perhaps she was a liability. She is obviously unstable, he notes, observing the way her fingers clutch her seat in a death grip, and her eyes go blank at random moments. He smiles, though, because he could not have found a better way to make certain that the rebels fall. She will take his word, and take down whoever he says killed her sister.
Maybe, in some twisted universe, he is even doing a good thing, because he really is positive that Coin dropped that bomb. Maybe he is helping to give another cruel dictator like himself the fate they deserved.
He can see an internal war in Katniss' eyes as she weighs his claims against what she's been told for all these months. A spark of recognition fires in her eye, and he knows that she remembers the design of the bomb, and that she realizes there may be some truth to his claim. Her shocked face morphs into one of disgust when she looks back at him.
"You're lying," she accuses softly, but even then he knows he has won this battle, at least. She glares intensely at him as he begins to laugh, daring him to deny it.
"My dear Ms. Everdeen," he chuckles. "We promised not to lie to each other."
He's not as nervous as he should be on the day he's set to die. He knows that her conscious won't let her do it. He is curious to see what she will do, though. How she will avoid it. He laughs to himself as he's presented with a rose, courtesy of the lovely Ms. Everdeen. It's smell isn't nearly as putrid as the ones he normally wears on his lapel, but it will do today. They already know what the scent was hiding anyways.
As she loads her bow, a wave of hushed murmurs ripples through the crowd, all vying for a better view. The huntress is looking anywhere but at her target, at the boy he remembers threatening before the Quarter Quell, at Peeta. When she finally catches the tyrant's eye, he grins at the fear reflected in her face. She's confused, and the people are waiting. He stiffens in shock when the arrow really is turned on him, wondering how his plan could go wrong, but then she swivels towards Coin, and wastes no time in loosing her arrow on the newly inaugurated president. She really does have excellent aim.
He can't help but laugh as the crowd goes into a frenzy. How is it that the girl who fought so hard to keep balance had just set the ball rolling for yet another rebellion? How did she succeed in inspiring confusion, fear, and respect in one quick stroke, when he had tried for years to do the same? She is quite marvelous, he thinks.
Blood dribbles down his chin, and he realizes that even though he succeeded, he's still going to die today. If it isn't the crowd pressing down on him, it will be the blood he could never avoid that kills him. He doesn't mind as much as he should, though. Even if he hasn't won the war, it is a comfort to know that Coin and her followers haven't either. No one of them will ever be the same innocent people they were before. They will always live in fear, and confusion. He thinks about Katniss' first turn in the arena, and those berries. She knew that if both she and Peeta died, the world would collapse into turmoil. And now, he is Peeta, and Coin is Katniss, except they both do die. The world will collapse into turmoil, just as the Mockingjay predicted. The impossible happened-both sides lost. Who will struggle to hold the reins on society now? It will take a long while to build up anything resembling civilization. Yes, he decides as he stops breathing. The last memory of him will be that his death shook the rebels to their core. That's all he's really fought for, so it really is better that they both die.
A/N: I don't love the ending, but I liked the beginning a lot. Review please!
