Chapter 1: The Most Recent of Scars
A/N: Sequel! Ahh! I think I said two weeks last time and its now been like two months. My multi-tasking abilities need work. So I've started a writing course that might affect updates but we'll see. If you've clicked here and haven't read SWR than you probably should start there. Other than that, let me know what you think. R&R.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything to do with the Hunger Games.
I can't see him. I can't see any of them. My vision is filled by a blur of green, leaves, vines and a splattering of moss. At the very least, I should have two of them either side of me, thirsty for my blood. I don't know whether it's good or bad that their not there. I don't know what I should be feeling when there is a distinct absence of cornucopia before me. My heart stammers as I frantically spin around to my left, praying to find something out of the ordinary. A small opening in the trees, a spot on the ground, perhaps a marker in the sky to give me a sense of direction. But of course even the sky has been blocked out. A low robotic voice fills the jungle and counts down the final ten seconds. This doesn't make sense. But then again it does. He knows I was lucky to survive my first games. I know it. And what better way to ensure my death than separating me from the one person who always came running.
"And now for a rather stunning find. Our next piece has authentic written all over it. Talk us through it, Petunia"
"Thanks Claudius and a big hello to everyone watching on this marvellous day. This next item, as you can see, is one of a kind and worth every penny. It measures in at about two inches, completely intact and comes in this beautiful silk lined box, which features the capitol's stamp of authenticity!"
I splutter on a mouthful of hot chocolate as the television screen zooms in on the little red box.
"And some background on the piece?"
"It was removed and recovered from the arena by a dedicated team of our auctioneers and will be remembered as the one thing that saved the life of victor, Ira Manning. This tiny piece of plastic featured in the final showdown against the female district eight tribute, allowing our victor advantage"
A piece of plastic? They actually went back in there to get a piece of plastic. I groan, flopping backwards onto the couch and try to block out the sound of my ex stylist's voice. But I could probably hear her high pitched laughter all the way from the capitol. And I thought absence makes the heart grow fonder.
I sit the hot chocolate aside and bury myself further into a cocoon of blankets and pillows. Petunia's appearance in my house is unexpected. I didn't sit down to watch her smile widely into the camera and make over the top hand gestures. It's the first time I've seen her since she fled with Effie and my prep team. Her hair is pink as always. It falls in curls around her face before being lost in a dress made of, if it were possible, even pinker ruffles. I hate pink ruffles.
"Indeed, Petunia, this is a unique piece of Hunger Games memorabilia that you would be crazy to pass off. Simply call the number on your screen with your bid and may the odds be ever in your favour"
Claudius Templesmith adds the usual catch phase and Petunia waves goodbye. With a break in the auctions, they replay the latest newscasts. The snow storm coming in from the mountains, the upcoming victory tour and of course the induction of Plutarch Heavensbee as Head Gamemaker. They show footage of him shaking hands with Snow. He seems truly excited. If only he knew what he was getting himself into. I rethink that. He probably does.
I want to see if they'll mention the events of the past week but they skip forward to Plutarch answering questions from none other than Caesar Flickerman. I scoot forward in my seat to see if they'll mention it but everyone is cautious. I had been waiting to see if they would touch on our previous Head Gamemaker or perhaps addressed the shortages in the capitol. Seneca Crane's death remains unmentioned.
It was only a few days ago that his death had actually been revealed. Reports from the capitol all told a similar story. Seneca Crane's body was found dead, sprawled out across his bed, from taking one too many painkillers for a broken nose. They never said how he received that broken nose. A smile threatens to emerge before I remember the man was probably murdered that night. Even though a part of me feels he deserved it, up until then he did seem rather clueless. And now he's dead, not because Cato punched him, but because he made a mistake.
It hardly gives me hope that mine would be simply forgotten. And I'm not the only one who stands in the firing line now. Haymitch was there through it all as my mentor. Effie and Petunia were damned by merely being near me, though have since bounced back. I remember Finnick Odair dragging Cato off a bloody Seneca Crane, and of course there's Enobaria and Brutus. The last one I couldn't give a damn about. But then there leaves Cato. The one who could just have easily cut his losses and removed himself from the firing line, as Brutus had put it. I wouldn't have hated him for it. I half expected him to do it that day on the train, but instead he looked me in the eye and asked me to move to District Two with him.
The Train (five days earlier)
"Come to Two with me"
I stare at Cato's mouth for at least a minute. His lips remain set in a thin line. Did he actually just say those words or am I imagining it? After everything that has happened today the latter seems more realistic. He remains silent, looking at me with a strange expression on his face. I've seen it before, in the games, when he begged me to join him and Clove. His hands grow tighter around my own but my brain takes a further minute to kick in. Go to Two with Cato. Live in District Two with Cato. Nope, I think I've finally lost it this time.
"What?" I stutter.
"Come with me. You'll be safer there. I can keep you safe. I can't do that if you're on the other side of Panem"
"Cato. I…" I stop, suddenly very aware of the reality of the situation.
Through all of it, I'm the most startled by how completely honest his words are. I'm surprised that Cato would allow himself to say such things. And to me? The pale District Six girl who was lucky to escape the games? Once I've concluded that I'm not the crazy one, I start to doubt Cato. Wasn't it just minutes ago that his mentor was warning him to stay clear of me? That being near me meant possibly ending up like Seneca Crane? Despite the fact that I've never trusted a single word to come out of Brutus' mouth, he has a point. I don't want to risk anyone getting on Snow's bad side, especially Cato. He's done enough for me already.
"I'm not promising it will better. I know I'm not in control all of time but it can't be worse than…"
"Snow" I interrupt. His eyes to dart towards mine. "I heard you and Brutus. I know we didn't fix things that night"
"Brutus doesn't know what he's talking about"
There's a long pause where we simply sit in silent. I try contemplating going to Two with Cato. What it would be like? What Cato would be like without the games? I struggle to imagine it because I'm still putting people at risk.
"Seneca Crane is dead" Cato states after a while and rakes his hands through his hair. I surprised when a small laugh escapes my lips. As if we were lucky enough to have just the one problem. I can add about a million more to that list.
"My prep team left because they're scared to be near me"
"My prep team have always been scared to be near me" This time it's his turn to give a small smile and I push his shoulders in annoyance. The sombre mood quickly returns though, as we both draw our attention to the outside window. A large forest of pine trees has emerged with snowy mountains in the background. We'll be in District Two shortly. And I'm not ready for it.
"Brutus wants me dead" I say with seriousness, "Snow wants me dead"
"They want me dead too"
"No they don't. Not yet anyway. Don't you see what will happen if I go to Two? I'll be forcing you into everything. I'm not willing to do that again"
"I don't care" Cato says, using my words from the previous night. Didn't I tell him the exact same thing when he said he would lose control again? That's its inevitable. It shocks me and I remember telling myself it didn't matter as long as I was with him.
"You do realise what it is you're doing? You haven't been taking morphling or anything because you're stuck with me after this. Like no escape, completely stuck. And I have a tendency to get extremely paranoid and sarcastic… and you've seen the extent of my meltdowns"
"Ira. Come to Two with me" He says this with a smirk because secretly he knows I've already made up my mind. I simply smile back, not trusting myself to say any more.
I will not be sick. I will not be sick. I repeat the words over and over in my head but it does little to stop the tingling sensation in stomach. One look outside my window and the butterflies swirl uncontrollably. Oh god, please don't let me be sick.
"Well, it was a surprise but nothing we can't sort out. You are victors, after all"
Oh, why won't this guy shut up?
The shiny black car jolts me forward again as it hits another pothole in the road. I reach over; grabbing the side door to steady myself but the driver seems intent on hitting every hole in the lower district. I'm thrown sidewards, hitting Cato who seems to being enjoying my displeasure. I think I might hate District Two already. This is definitely not how they portray it on television. I didn't know there would be such a distinct gap between the workers and the higher ranking citizens. In District Six, we were all workers; we never had a higher class, let alone me being in it. Plus the whole place is crawling with peacekeepers, which gives me the creeps.
My eyes find the car's other passenger. A small balding man named Edgar Lynes. If I've read his name tag correctly, he's in charge of property allocation. Apparently he's from the mayor's office as well.
"The first of the victor's villages is full but we can put you in the second. How about houses six and seven?" He looks up from a clip board with a pen poised above the paper. He talks so fast that I missed half of what he said. First victor's village? Cato nods his head. "Excellent. The second village is in a prime location and houses our more…" Edgar pauses searching for the right word. I could think of few words to describe District Two's past victors.
"…Popular of victors" Edgar finishes and I resist the urge to scoff.
The car speeds past a peacekeeper's station at a frightening speed, spitting up a cloud of dust in its wake. I'm surprised by how quickly the area changes. The small derelict buildings of the lower district grow larger, more distinct until were surrounded by mansions and people. It's the first time I've seen people since the train station. I glance over at Cato but his eyes are locked on something further up the road. Never judge a book by its cover, I remind myself as a monstrous justice building looms over head. In only a matter of minutes, we've entered the 'real' District Two. The one we see at reapings, the one that is more than I imagined.
I grow curious but we avoid the centre of town and quickly turn down a long stretch of gravel. The tyres crunch and spit when we speed up a hill with the tallest of pine trees bordering its edges. We pass a sign post reading 'Victor's Village #2'. Of course they would have more than one.
"They've started moving in victors this week. You'll be sharing the village with Drake, Seraphine, Katarina. And then there's Brutus and Enobaria of course" I pause at Edgar's words.
"Brutus and Enobaria?" I ask and feel Cato stiffen beside me. Edgar nods.
"Yes, both have moved in since returning"
Brutus and Enobaria. Brutus and Enobaria. All I can do is laugh at my terrible luck. I shouldn't have been surprised by this in the least. Enobaria is bearable but Brutus? He's not exactly my biggest admirer and I know of his strong ties to the capitol. I might as well be living next to President Snow himself.
"Klaus?" I hear Cato ask but I'm still distracted. District Two was supposed to be a refuge. I would be safe with Cato. It's the only thing that I could use to calm Haymitch down when I told him about my moving plans. That wasn't a pleasant conversation by any means. God knows what he'll do if he finds out who my newest neighbours are.
"The family still resides in the older village. I can make arrangements if you would like to be closer to them?"
"No" Cato says suddenly, breaking me from my thoughts. I look up to see the tension growing in his features.
"It would be no trouble to…"
"No!" Cato's sudden outburst causes me to flinch and Edgar drops his notes. His tone is intimidating enough for the subject to be dropped. A little voice in the back of my head puts up a warning. Best not to ask, I think and turn away from meeting his eyes. I can't help but be reminded of a time when he couldn't control that anger. I haven't seen it since that night so it begs the question. Who the hell is Klaus?
Not willing to broach the subject, I look out the window again. This time I'm confronted with my new home.
The victor's village in District Six is small. It's the only word that I can really use to describe the place. It rests on the border of the District just inside the outer fences and seemingly disappears into the fields beyond. With the exemption of Haymitch, the victors who live there prefer the capitol lifestyle and certain ways of escape only it can provide. I don't think they would care about the small village considering most don't remember anything besides how to barter for morphling at the hospital.
District Two's victor's village is undoubtedly meant to house a very different type of victor. As the car comes to a stop, the hill levels out and the forest has been restrained. The road widens into a large area of gravel with houses either side of it. I count about ten of them. All clad in the same grey timber. Five on each side, with the ones to my left having a backyard of pine trees, the ones on right sit on the edge of a small cliff. At the end of the road, the forest remains uncleared and the houses fall into darkness. I shiver, suddenly remembering my games. The jungle at the base of the cliff and how I never dared to enter it. I hope I don't end up living in one of those, especially with Brutus nearby. Another look outside my window reveals numbers on the houses. I let out a long shuddering breath when I find the numbers six and seven. Both are on the side of the cliff and nearest the village's entrance.
"Enobaria is on the corner" Cato whispers into my ear with no evidence of his previous anger. I look across at the house numbered eleven. It perches on the very corner of the hill and there's nothing to signify the woman's presence at all. That's another thing about these houses, they all look empty.
"Brutus?" I ask.
"House 12. Across from you" He mumbles the last bit of his sentence but there's no hiding it. I'm just happy that he doesn't seem to be home at the present time.
"And the rest?" I direct the question towards Edgar.
"Seraphine is next to Cato. Older lady, doesn't care to much for the games anymore"
"I can understand why"
"Katarina is next to her. Won when she was only twelve. And ofcourse there's Drake. He's in the very last house at the end. The rest are empty"
Edgar fails to fill us in on Drake's details but anyone who likes to live in a dark creepy house is probably no one I would like to meet. If I'm being completely honest I don't want to meet any of them. They're victors. Blood thirsty murders who once killed children. I stop myself short. Who am I trying to kid? I'm one of them now.
Present Day
"This is your last chance to purchase you own very piece of the 74th annual Hunger Games. I guarantee, this item will go today, so remember to place your bid.
I roll my eyes and sink back into the couch with every intention of falling into a coma. Outside the wind swirls, making the trees shake and if I squint hard enough I can just make out the first sprinklings of snow. I've never seen snow before but it's safe to say it has lost its appeal. My eyes flick back to Petunia whose now holding up a half broken spear.
"You shouldn't be watching that" I hear a shuffle of footsteps nearest the front door but it's all the warning I get. Before I can wonder how the hell he got in here unnoticed, a pair of warm arms surround me. Better than any blanket.
"I can't believe they're selling this stuff. It's ridiculous. Absolutely…" I stop mid-sentence and tilt my head back to see Cato's grinning face. His hair is wet and spiked up at odd angles, making him seem normal like we haven't been though the last few months. His hand sneaks under my chin and I lean back to briefly kiss him, forgetting my point. He seems very pleased with his newest way of preventing my meltdowns.
"Besides, I quite fancied buying your eeky bandages" I whisper against his lips, causing him to laugh.
"Worth every penny"
I make room for him and with an effortless movement, Cato jumps over the couch to land next to me. I notice he's changed into his training clothes since I last saw him at breakfast. It means he'll be going into town shortly. I don't even consider joining him. Even if I'm developing claustrophobia in this house it beats running into Brutus. He's due back from one of his capitol trips any day now. He left soon after we had moved in here.
"I could sneak you in" Cato grins.
"Yes, that's a great idea. Smuggle me towards the psychopathic killer" I reply sarcastically.
"I could to do it, right under his nose" He replies with a shrug. Despite changing so much, he's still as cocky as ever.
"Uh-huh. And how does the glorious Cato plan to do this?"
I realise my mistake. As if he was waiting for the reply all along, Cato suddenly springs forward. I scream out as his hands find my waist and begin pulling me towards him. I try hopelessly to struggle against his grip but my hand to hand combat is somewhat lacking compared to his. Stupid training. Cato's arms wrap around my body and as if I weigh nothing lifts me into the air.
"Put me down! Cato!" I end up swinging precariously from his shoulders as he walks us towards the front of the house, laughing. "When I get down I will…"
My words fall short as I'm suddenly thrown off his shoulder. My feet drop to the floor with a plonk. Off balance, I grab onto the front of his t-shirt and attempt to stop my inevitable fall. However, instead of falling, my back connects with the front door. I stop and huff. I'm now trapped between Cato and the door.
"Do what?" He asks in a low voice. I cross my arms over my chest as he steps closer, "Ira, what will you do?"
God damn him, I think. I feel like yelling at him. How am I supposed to come up with a reasonable answer with standing so close to me? With him smiling in that self-assured way that makes me and no doubt every woman in Panem go weak at the knees? My mind at this point has decided to go on an unannounced holiday.
"Hmm?" He pushes me further into the door until I can feel his breath on my neck.
"I…uh…"
"Love birds!"
A loud screech, reminiscent of parrot, comes from behind the door. I try to contain it but it's really too much. I can't help it. Within seconds, I burst out in laughter at the woman's impeccable timing. There's a shuffle of boots on the front porch and another loud call. Cato's face drops at the realisation of who it is.
"Please do not make me come in there" Enobaria calls out again. Cato groans.
I slip out from under his arm and open the door. The mentor stands on the other side with her usual look of annoyance.
"You're late" She says unamused, looking from Cato to me. "And I'm sure I know why"
"Nice to see you again Enobaria" I say with my biggest fake smile.
"Ira dear. You should join us. I'm sure they have some of the old practice swords lying around" I stare at her and keep my expression blank. It's become Enobaria's favourite game, inciting reactions out of me. She wins most days.
"No. Shame. Cato… now!" And she's gone almost as soon as she arrived. A trail of long black hair floating away. There's another groan from beside me as Cato jogs out to follow her.
A give him a quick wave goodbye before seeking the warmth of my house again. I step over to one of the kitchen windows as the pair take off down the long stretch of gravel. It's strange how accustomed I've become to living in District Two. Most days I could be back in Six. I relax, fall into routine. It helps me forget. But every once in a while, something pops up to trigger it all. My eyes drift up to the sky. In particular, a large bank of darkening clouds moving in from the capitol. Directly below it, a simple two storey timber house with nothing unique about it. The shutters remain closed as always, the door bolted; even the garden has since died away in the frost. It's empty now but it won't stay that way forever. And I'm not looking forward to the day my neighbour returns.