He was watching Mrs. Everdeen tending to him. He'd been in training, when a simulated earthquake had left him with a sprained ankle. He winced as a finger stabbed his muscle.
"This shouldn't take long to heal, Rory. It –"
"RORY!" came a piercing shriek. A patient on a nearby bed jumped. Rory and Mrs. Everdeen turned, startled by the voice. There was commotion at the door and Rory stood up to see, confused. Guards blocked her tiny figure, barring her none too gently. One had a strong hold on her shoulders. She was sobbing and begging them to let her enter.
"Let her go! I'll take her!" he said, harshly, holding onto his sister's hand. They seemed skeptical, but let her go. She launched herself at him and he picked her up, balancing her weight without hurting his leg. She was crying hard onto his shoulder.
"Shh.." he whispered into her ear, kissing her cheek. She sniffed.
"What's wrong, Posy?" he asked, concerned.
"POSY! There you are!" rang a familiar voice as he entered their dorm. Silence hung in the air and dread filled him as he took in everybody's expression. Their friend Annie sat, rocking, on the floor. His mother was sobbing into her hands and even Vick had tears in his eyes.
"Did you –" he started, glancing at Rory, but Posy shook her head. Rory put her down and she ran into her mother's arms, seeking solace.
"What is going on?" he asked. Nobody said anything. He turned to leave, cursing.
"There's news from the Capitol," Vick whispered. Rory froze. Gale was dead. What else would make them so upset? He felt a lump in his throat. It could not be.
"Gale –" he choked.
"Not Gale," Vick whispered, finally crying. Rory turned. Then who? It was as if his voice was heard all the way to the Capitol. The TV set in the corner buzzed to life, razing out the Mockingjay videos.
"This just in from the Capitol, where things have taken a deadly turn-" the voice drowned out as his eyes took in the video being played.
First there was only fire. He didn't understand. Then there was a replay, as if the audience hadn't registered. His eyes found her in the large crowd. He could recognize the braid anywhere. How many times had he put small flowers in it? How many times had he tugged at it, teasing her? How many times had he remembered it in his memories of her? Somebody screamed her name and her face was seen from the vantage point. He caught sight of her beautiful face. How many times had he adored it? How he'd remembered kissing those lips. Her eyes widened.
It was a second and the noise which erupted from the blast erased his mind. What. In. The. World.
Fire everywhere. Flames licked the air and just before the show got off air, he saw the silver parachutes. The screen went black. He couldn't think. He couldn't speak. He couldn't hear. He couldn't feel. He couldn't breathe. Voices swarmed around him but they made no sense at all. What were they saying? All the garble hummed only one word, one breath, one heartbeat. Primrose.
His mother combed his hair that night. He did not object as she ran the comb through his hair. It felt like a dream anyway. Everything was pushed to the back of his mind except two images. They recurred, again and again.
Prim's horrified expression and those silver parachutes. The sparkle, that glint raced in his thoughts, bringing back memories. He looked at his hands, his bloodied fingers. The very fingers which had drawn the sketches of the chutes as he watched his brother, his idol, manufacture the bombs. The hands which had sealed the packs of bombs as "Approved" and sent them off for the "Covert Operation." He'd packed, stamped and handed her death to her. When he felt his mother's fingers touch his scalp, he stood up.
He couldn't take it anymore. He pushed her out of the way and ran out, until he couldn't remember where he was going. Running until he couldn't feel himself anymore.
He found an empty room, a pantry of sorts, and sat down on the cold floor. Images from days back filled his minds.
"Rory!" she sighed, as he poured over the sketches. The chutes had to be perfect or they'd fail.
"Prim," he nodded, "Five minutes."
She pouted and sat beside him, playing with a charm around her wrist. She traced a finger across the schedule stamped on her arm. She wrinkled her nose at it.
"What are you doing anyways?" she asked. He sighed and looked at her inquisitive eyes.
"You know," he said.
She groaned. "Not those wretched bombs again!"
"Prim –"
"I thought we're the good guys. Why are we killing people, Rory?"
"It's the people that need to be killed, Prim," he sighed. She bit her lip in despair and he hugged her close.
His own words repeated in his head. The people who needed to be killed. How stupid had he been?
She was packing when he went to her room. Already dressed, she was just checking last minute things. She looked horribly antsy, with her hair already falling out of the braid that ran down her back.
"Prim," he whispered. She turned to him and he saw the unmasked fear in her eyes. She looked absolutely terrified.
"Prim," he sighed, walking up to her and hugging her tightly. She didn't hesitate and let him, and he felt her sigh against him. He wished he could hold her like this forever, away from those monsters slaughtering everybody.
"I'm scared, Rory. What if-" She didn't finish, shuddering in his arms. He kissed the top of her head.
"Nothing will happen. It'll be fine."
She looked up at him, staring at him with wide blue eyes and he did the first thing he could think of. Her lips felt amazing, pressed against his own as he felt her fingers run through his hair. His arms around her, tightened and pulled her closer, lifting her off her feet. She tasted like berries. When he pulled back, gasping for air, she was flushed.
"That was – "he started, but she cut him off.
"A perfect goodbye," she whispered, pecking him again.
A perfect goodbye. Goodbye.
The lump in his throat was almost painful now but he would not cry. He refused to shed tears. It's what he'd learned from Gale.
He stood up and walked back to his room and started working on something else to help the district. It went on for days. Days would go by and he'd keep working and working and working. Nothing could stop him. He'd barely take lunch breaks and when he would, he'd keep as much distance as he could from his family. Mrs. Everdeen wasn't seen anywhere and he frankly could not care.
He was an empty shell. Nothing inside. No emotions, no feelings and no reactions. When he saw Posy crying her eyes out in front of a picture of Prim, he threw the picture away and walked away, without comforting her. When Vick would look at him in a sorry way, he'd just look past him as if nobody was there. He did not react to anything. He didn't even react to Coin's assassination. He expected a reaction from his heart, but none came. A part of him had just died.
The silent torture just went on and on. The silence had to break at one point. It did.
"You!" he snarled, when he saw him walk through the door. His brother's eyes went wide open at Rory's reaction, but he did not stop. He noticed how Gale had changed with the rebellion. His eyes were a little lost and he had scars all over his arms and face.
"Rory – "
"Your bombs!" he screeched, launching himself at the one who'd caused her death.
"Hey!" his brother retaliated as he was knocked down to the ground. Rory punched him in the face, splitting his lip.
"You – killed – her," he shouted, punctuating each word with a blow.
"Get off, Rory!" he shouted, shoving his brother.
Rory fell back, shaking from head to toe. Something inside him snapped, and he went mad. The grief finally broke through the barriers and he gasped with the pain in his chest. It didn't make sense. Nothing made sense. How could the world go on? It was all out of balance.
"Rory?" asked Gale, cautiously, moving towards him.
"She's – she's – she's gone!" he exclaimed, as though it was news. What world was this? It was no world if she did not exist. She couldn't not exist.
"Rory –"
"Primrose Everdeen is dead!" he shouted, slamming his hand onto the floor as a sob finally, finally, broke through his lips.
"Rory," Gale sighed, taking his brother in his arms.
"She's gone!" he moaned, the tears falling faster and faster. He sobbed harder, shivering in pain. She was gone. She wasn't coming back. The pain in his chest made no sense at all. The world was so scarred.
He shouted. He screamed in rage. She wasn't coming back. She was never, ever coming back.
"Promise me that you'll return," he said as she ran out.
"I promise," she smiled and left.
"You promised!" he shouted at the ceiling, as if he expected her to be sitting there, listening.
"You promised," he choked. He continued screaming, his brother holding on to them as they grieved for the girl they killed.
Later, he'd move on. Later, he'd decide that the only person to blame for this whole fiasco was Katniss, because if she hadn't started this thing then Prim would still be there. Later, he'd move to District 2, and start over.
But right then, he grieved. The girl who got blasted to smithereens, the one who couldn't even be buried decently, deserved at least that. Maybe, deep down he hoped that his tears would soothe the burns from the wretched flames that stupid girl had burnt her sister with.