I walk through the streets of District 12 doing my best to conceal my unease. The people stare at me as if I'm some kind of unknown pathogen, a possible threat. It's completely understandable. Even though it's been over twenty years since the Capitol rained fire down upon this place the emotional scars still run deep. The presence of any uniform must be a painful remainder of the need to distrust authority here.
I do my best to seem relaxed and congenial, but know I am failing. I guess it's not too often that any military officer of the United Districts of Panem makes an appearance in this District, especially one like me. As I walk from the train station into the town square, I pass a few older residents sitting at a table in front of a merchant's shop. They sit quietly laughing, playing a local card game I don't recognize. As soon as they catch a glimpse of me, the laughter stops. I try to give a friendly nod of my head, but it does nothing to alleviate the sudden tension. It may be simply my nerve induced imagination, but I feel like I see a glint of recognition in their faces as if somewhere deep down in their psyche a bandage is being ripped from an old wound that still has yet to heal. I increase my pace as much as possible without being noticed. I don't belong here and I know it, but I'm on a mission. A mission that for the first time in my life the UDP Defense Ministry has not assigned: this one is personal.
I make my way to Victor's Village, a group of 12 houses that serves as a reminder of the Games that once plagued this nation. The Games that changed the course of everything, resulted in the birth of this new country, and forged my life in a way that only I understand.
Only two Victors live here now. Until four years ago, there was a third until he finally passed away…I hope in some measure of peace. When I heard, I thought of performing this mission after his funeral, but finally decided it would be too damaging and too painful for everyone involved.
I pass a simple memorial to all the Fallen Tributes of District 12; a simple stone Obelisk with a bronzed plaque listing 147 names. Donated from the masons of District 2, the thought, "Morbidly Appropriate" crosses my mind considering so many of these names fell at the hands of the Careers of that District. As my mind scrolls over the weathered etchings, I recognize all that I see. My mind puts the names to their recorded faces. I replay their ghastly deaths in my mind. Every day of my youth was spent watching the reruns of the Hunger Games. Over and over my mentors drilled the images into my young mind while constantly reinforcing the horror of what I was seeing. I push the emotions down as they threaten to erupt because seeing this crafted piece of rock is like seeing the tombstone of family.
"No," I say to myself under my breath as the anger resurfaces. Besides Venus and Lizzy, I have no family. I hate the rest even though I never met them. These names are more than family. These names are the ones I love.
It's obvious which house is the one I'm looking for. It's the only one that seems alive. It's the only one that's a home. Green grass covers the lawn leading to the front steps. The flower baskets under the front windows are filled with gloriously colored wildflowers gathered from a dozen different meadows in the woods surrounding the town.
I'm more nervous now than ever. The thought that I should just turn around now and explain to Lizzy that I couldn't do this simple task tempts me, but the knowledge that she would never let me live it down drives me forward. I pause at the bottom of the first step to adjust my uniform. Meticulously, I pinch the creases in my black trousers and tug on the bottom of my black shirt to make sure it hangs correctly. I pull on the side of my blue beret to ensure it is still tightly fitted to my head before I check my polished gold badges, make sure that the Colonel insignia on my epaulets still gleam in the sunlight, and that the flag of the United Districts of Panem on my right shoulder is still in a condition befitting my hosts considering they did more to fight for it than anyone else. A look down to see the Mockingjay with wings unfurled proudly surrounded by thirteen stars on a field of thirteen stripes, one for each of the Districts of Panem. There is only one thing missing: my nametag. I never wear it in public unless I have to and removed it before I even stepped foot on the train in the Capitol Station. That piece of information must wait until the time is right; if it ever is right.
"The Mockingjay," I think. "I can't believe that I'm finally going to meet the Mockingjay. I gather the courage to slowly climb the steps as my heart begins to pound and I feel the wetness of my palms. I wasn't this nervous the first time someone was shooting at me. I raise my hand to knock when the door suddenly opens. Standing before me is Peeta Mellark. His eyes burn right at me, instantly trying to determine what kind of threat I pose. His eyes widen, as if he recognizes me, the nervousness and fear in my chest reach a climax. I fear that he'll lunge forward and try to kill me, and I would honestly not blame him if he did. Perhaps it would even be fitting as if the Universe was trying to balance itself out.
However, he suddenly relaxes (if only a little) just enough to say one sentence:
"What do you want?"
"Mr. Mellark," I say trying to sound as unimposing as possible. "My name is Ares. I've travelled all the way from the Capitol, and if it's not too much trouble, I'd like to have a few words with you and Ms. Everdeen."
"Her name is Mrs. Mellark now," he responds sharply. "It's been Mellark for a long time."
"Of course, I'm sorry," I say politely but inside I'm cursing myself for saying such a stupid thing.
I think he's about to slam the door in my face when suddenly he steps and gestures towards the hallway.
"Please, Come in." I step inside and am led down a plush green-carpeted hallway toward the delicious smell of roasting game. The painted walls are lined with incredible paintings of gorgeous landscapes. From the forests of District 7, to the orchards of 11, and even the skyline of the Capitol, I soon recognize them as some of the most beautiful spots in all of Panem.
I hear the sounds of children playing on a tile floor. "Katniss!" he yells toward the kitchen. "We have a visitor." Above the doorway, hangs a glorious black bow and quiver. I have to hold back my desire to touch it. This is bow built by the Victors, used in the Revolution, and that almost killed President Snow.
Not wanting to try my hosts' patience any further, I take a final breath and step inside. There sitting at the table is the Mockingjay, whose glorious deeds in the Arena have been my guide my whole life. She looks up and freezes as her grey eyes meet mine. I see the same look that crossed her husband's face. With reflexes like I've never seen in even the most seasoned combat veterans, I see her reach for something behind her back. "Katniss, No!" Peeta yells from behind me. The boy and girl on the floor freeze as if they've been trained for something like this. She slowly pulls her hand from behind her and places them on the table. "Prim," she says softly yet sternly, "Take Haymitch upstairs and don't come down until Mommy or Daddy come and get you, understand?" Wordlessly, the girl takes the boy by the hand and leads them out of the room. Obviously, they have been trained, trained for the day that a man or woman like me would appear and shatter what peace they have been raised in. I suddenly feel like the most selfish individual in the world. What right do I have to do this? To violate the sanctity of this hallowed place? However, I know there is no turning back now.
Peeta slowly circles around behind me and joins his wife behind the table. He softly places a hand on her shoulder. I notice the calming effect it has on her immediately but she still eyes me like a mother bear who feels her cubs are threatened. Peeta is the first to break the awkward silence.
"You're a little young for a Colonel, aren't you?" Little does he know that I was raised to this rank from almost birth.
"Mr. Mellark, Mrs. Mellark," I manage to speak, "I don't know how to even begin, but I've been looking forward to this moment for almost my entire life.
I see them both tense as if they think I'm about to draw a concealed weapon. The time for subtlety has passed, only the truth will do now. "Mrs. Mellark, as I've already told your husband my name is Ares and I've travelled all the way from the Capitol to ask just one thing from you both," I pause not knowing how they will react. "I ask your forgiveness." This floors them. They seem confused, searching my face for some clue to my identity which I believe they already secretly know.
"Who are you?" Katniss asks forcefully in a voice I recognize from the endless hours of studying her recordings. Her eyes continue to stare directly into mine. It is like "the Girl who was on Fire" is trying to set me alight with her gaze.
"I was two years old during the District Rebellion. There were sixteen of us, including myself and my older sister," I say as I begin my long painful story. "We were the children and grandchildren of President Snow's Council of Ten." The Council of Ten were President Snow's must trusted advisors; the oligarchs of the Capitol and principal cause of the District's endless pain. If every crime they ever committed was put on trial, the proceedings would probably still be going on. After the war, Snow decided to stay for a last stand. He had no intention of becoming someone else running prey. The rest fled the Capitol and were eventually hunted down in gruesome, if not ironically fitting ways.
"After the fall of the Capitol," I continue, "the new government took us into custody and raised us to revile everything about those who conceived us. Their justification was to prevent any possibility that we would turn into a threat to the new country or attempt to regain power.
As we grew, we began military style reeducation, and they punished both our bodies and our minds. We were forced to learn every single crime of our families, principal among those The Hunger Games." I fight back the emotions again. "My sister and I have watched in endless detail every death, every kill…and every victim."
I scan their expressions hoping to find some reaction. I'm not sure what I see, somewhere between pity, horror, and anger, and I'm not sure if it's directed at me. "There was however, one bright spot in my education." This perks their interest. "You."
"Us?" Peeta responds with half surprise and half trying to elicit more information.
"Your love for each other which overcame even the horror of death. Your desire to protect each other even when the Capitol made you choose between destroying each other or destroying yourselves. Your passion in your resolve to give freedom to the oppressed People's of Panem!" I realize now how ridiculous I must sound to them. Like an obsessed fool; so enamored that he can't realize the bigger picture outside the drama of the arena for these two. The emotion is building back inside of me despite all my best efforts. I fear I might lose it, but I exercise discipline and steady myself. "You are both my heroes on which I have modeled my life."
At first I think they find this insulting, but they continue their interrogation of me with a steady coolness. These two have been through too much suffering to accept me so quickly.
"If the Capitol views you as such a threat, then why did they make you a Colonel in their Army at such a young age?" Katniss says in way that makes me feel she's trying to trap me like an animal in her famous snares.
"As each of us reached the age of seventeen, our mentors gave us a choice: enter a life of self-imposed exile in the Districts living under constant government surveillance, or continue our training and dedicate the remainder of our lives to serving the United Districts of Panem until our new nation required our death."
"Nothing has changed," Peeta whispers in a depressed tone.
"I think it has, Sir," I find myself saying almost reflexively, "before they wouldn't have given us the choice." I think this might have had some effect on them. I continue.
"Fifteen, including my sister, chose exile. I chose service, mostly because I felt I had the most debt to repay." If they hadn't guessed my identity by now I'm sure this is the final clue they need.
"Why now?" Katniss fires back at me. "Why after all these years have you finally decided to come to us now?"
"Because I may not have much time left. Fourteen of the original sixteen have disappeared without a trace in the last year. All that remains of the Council's descendants are my sister and me. I've moved her to the Capitol for protection, but I fear that even that is not enough to save us. Whoever wants us gone has left no clues and doesn't seem to have made a single mistake.
My wife said that if I didn't do this now, I could die without showing my love and appreciation for the two people who I feel are most like parents to me." I tell that my last statement has made Katniss's skin crawl but Peeta seems like he could be actually touched by my sentiment. "I mean she owes such a debt of gratitude to you both as well. The stories her aunt told her of you during the last Quarter Quell and the Rebellion are the only way she has ever really known her uncle outside of television." This strikes them both immediately.
"Who is your wife?" Peeta quickly asks.
"Her maiden name is Elizabeth Odair." I respond kindly. Tears begin forming in Katniss's eyes. "But I call her Lizzy."
"Finnick," she finally manages to get out.
"Lizzy was Finnick's niece, born in District 4 during the uprisings. Her parents didn't tell her much at first because they thought it was safer that way, but as soon as she was old enough, she found Annie and the two have been inseparable ever since. Annie used to even call her the daughter she could never have. Lizzy wanted to come and finally meet you as well, but she thought it might be too much for you to absorb all at once."
"Can…" Katniss actually trembles. "Can I see her?" I pull a photograph out of my shirt pocket that I brought just for this purpose.
"It was our wedding day." I say handing her the picture of us holding hands on a beach in District 4 just as the sun was beginning to set. The polished sea shells and corral covering Lizzy's dress glimmer in the fading light. Annie stands next to her with a smile so wide that it almost seems she had completely forgotten the years trauma in her life. Katniss slowly runs her hand over the image of Lizzy's red hair.
"She has Finnick's eyes," Katniss says lovingly.
"They remind me of the sea," is all I can respond.
"This picture definitely shows how much they love you," Peeta says.
"Which means Finnick would have loved you as well…"Katniss adds trailing off.
"How is Annie? Could we visit?" Peeta asks hopefully. I pause this time.
"Sadly, she passed away last year," I say, "but I assure you it was peaceful and in her own warm bed. All of her family was with her. As her heart began to fail she simply placed my hand in Lizzy's and told me it was my job to protect her now. A few minutes later, she whispered, 'Finnick,' and then just went to sleep."
"How death should be," Katniss says. "Full of love instead of hate and fear." She leans back into Peeta's chest as he wraps his arms fully around her.
"The descendant of a Capitol Councilor marrying into the family of two Tributes, maybe there is hope for this country yet," Peeta says with the hint of a smile which I deeply regret having to spoil.
"Not a Councilor…and not the child. A grandchild." They stiffen again and now I am sure they know my secret.
I also know that it is time to leave. I turn toward the door, feeling slightly crestfallen until Peeta's voice catches me.
"Ares, you have my forgiveness." Words that I know are the most difficult for him to say considering his history. Katniss says nothing but the look in her eyes tells me that I have hers as well.
"Please, tell Lizzy that she is welcome in our home any time. I already consider her," she pauses as she painfully considers her next words. The fact that she has the strength to say them makes me love her even more. "I already consider both of you family." Her voice then turns hard as rock. "Find who is doing this to the Sixteen before it's too late. If anything happens to you, I know that Lizzy would die inside as much as I would if something happened to Peeta. The Hunger Games needs no more victims. Understand, Soldier?"
"Yes, Ma'am."
"And may the odds be ever in your favor, Ares," Peeta adds with another smile. Again, he shows that his remarkable talent to say exactly the right thing at just the right time has not faded. I simply smile back and turn to leave again.
"Wait," Katniss says just before I leave the room. "No more implied truths and no more lies," she says as her eyes look straight into me. "Have the courage to tell me your last name. Say it aloud." I obey an order as any good soldier must.
"Ares Snow. My name is Ares Snow."