1. Hovercrafts in the Night Sky
She was pacing the space in front of him again, her footsteps echoing just a bit too loudly off the bland linoleum floors. "Shouldn't we have heard something by now? Honestly, Coin is always so insistent about being on time..."
Cinna reached out for her, fingers grasping her wrist. "Portia, look at me." His voice was firm, yet gentle.
She sighed softly and lifted her gaze to his. He smiled and let go of her hand. "I'm sure that they have everything under control." Pausing momentarily, he reached up to smooth a few loose strands of hair back away from her face. "Honestly."
Silence took over them for a few moments, consuming any words that they considered saying.
"And besides," he continued finally, "we have more than enough preparation for this."
"Maybe they had a point, though," she protested quietly. She didn't have to elaborate—they both already knew. Both of them had lost their parents about eight years earlier, in one of the bomb attacks on District Thirteen; but they were still fully aware that they'd been against this idea back when it was first presented.
"Maybe. I think that... if they were here, they'd understand."
"But they're not!" she pointed out. Her voice dropped in volume again after the outburst. "And they never will be."
She felt Cinna's arms wrap around her. "I know." Starting to give in to him, she didn't argue the point any further. It wasn't going to do any good, anyways. It wasn't going to get them out of District Thirteen, where they'd lived their whole lives; it wasn't going to stop the seemingly never-ending battle against the Capitol, and it most certainly wasn't going to prevent the seventy-fourth Hunger Games from happening in a few months.
Noting that she had dropped her gaze again, Cinna tilted her head up, forcing her to meet his eyes. "Listen to me, sweetheart. What's done is done. Nothing we do can change that." When she didn't answer right away, he kissed her forehead, then pressed his lips against hers, the kiss soothing away her fears and bringing reassurance in their place, easing some of the tension that had settled between them.
"You're right," she whispered, drawing back from him. "As always."
A tight smile crossed his face for a fraction of a second, before it quickly faded. Then his expression turned quizzical. "Always?"
She nodded, grinning. "Yes."
Pulling her closer, he said, "I doubt that."
"Hmm, well, it's true."
"Whatever you say," he said, relenting. They let the silence take over again, merely holding on to each other tightly—as if clinging to these quiet, intimate moments would block out the war just outside.
Cinna slowly drew his hand up and down her back. "We should be going," he said quietly. "See if they want to start out early."
She nodded against his shoulder in vague agreement. Their compartment, which they were standing in, was already practically empty; they had no one left to say goodbye to. Nothing left to do to prepare, and yet, it seemed as if something were missing, denying them permission to leave.
He let his arms drop from around her, then tapped his hand under her chin. "Head high." The gentle reminder wasn't something that either of them was unaccustomed to—during their main training years, it was something constantly heard from their various instructors.
Twining his fingers through hers, he opened the door with his free hand, closing it behind them as they walked out, closing it on their past. Now it was time for whatever was going to come next—a future of unsolved puzzles and mysteries and questions never to be answered.
. . . . . . . . . .
The two walked down the narrow, empty hallway in silence. There just wasn't anything to be said, really.
Cinna looked down at their entwined fingers and sighed. "Love and war don't go together very well, do they?" he asked her quietly.
"No," she agreed, knowing full well what he was thinking about, "they don't."
Arriving at Command, she had barely knocked on the door when it was thrown open by none other than President Coin. The president nodded in greeting. "Soldier Adaline," she addressed, and, spotting Cinna just behind her, added, "Soldier Neyell. Please, come in. We were just about to send word for you two."
They entered the room and the door was swiftly shut behind them.
The familiar meeting room was now only occupied by them, Coin, and Boggs, seated across the main conference table from the other two. "Now, I do hope that you both realize how... vital tonight will be," President Coin started off. Normally, this would be the sort of statement that would elicit a response, but not quite in the tone that the president of District Thirteen used.
"Ah, here we are," Boggs put in as two new windows appeared on the table—one facing him and Coin, the other towards Cinna and Portia. Both windows were identical and fairly easy to recognize for anyone who knew what they were.
"Now, this—" he gestured to a ragged, thin gray line on the map "—is the Capitol border, naturally. Mountains around most of it, which'll be one of our main problems. However—" he carefully zoomed in on one of the tunnel entrances to the city "—this is where you'll be meeting with Heavensbee."
He paused, then said, "Of course, we can't exactly land the hovercraft that close to the Capitol without being picked up by their radar, so we'll be landing about a mile outside the border. It should be a fairly clear route to the entrance—just along the train tracks."
"And, unless there are any questions, you should all get going," Coin added. "I wish you luck; and remember..."
It was a prompt, they both knew, and finished the sentence in unison: "Succedunt omnino gratuita." Succeed at all costs.
"Precisely," the president said approvingly, clearly glad that they hadn't already forgotten the things they'd learned in their training. "Now, go on."
. . . . . . . . . .
Boggs led the way to the Airborne Division without any more talk of what was to happen. After the primary security check, they were allowed entrance to the Hangar.
The three mounted the steps of one of the smaller hovercrafts in the rows to find the pilot waiting for them, and took their places. "You're early," the pilot, a retired commander by the name of Soldier Arden noted. "Didn't expect that."
"Everything happens early in Thirteen," Boggs replied. "Haven't you noticed?"
He didn't get much of an answer, as the pilot was already busy with one last systems check before they set out. And, then, "Everyone ready?"
At the others' agreement, the hovercraft doors glided into place with a small click, and the vehicle started to proceed through the tunnel system to the fourth airlift platform. Trying to avoid dwelling on the swift rise of the hovercraft, Portia forced herself to focus on reading one of the digital displays on the interior—2200, December 21st...
Once off the ground and concealed in the night sky, the majority of what remained of the hovercraft ride was spent in silence. Neither Cinna nor Portia particularly minded—it was an opportunity to think of everything that was to come, and what had happened already. Besides that, neither of them had ever been the type to break silence with small talk only for the purpose of there not being quiet.
After not a lot of time had passed, however, they were both starting to try and not think of what would happen shortly. Most would've viewed it in a more positive light—there had to be a bit more freedom in the world outside of The District, (one of the names used for District Thirteen).
They both knew what their assignment was: go to the Capitol and become the stylists for District Twelve, because they needed as many people involved with the Games to really be loyal to District Thirteen as possible. Few people knew the rest of the reason why, knew that it was because they were trying to select the tribute from District Twelve who would be the future leader of the rebellion. They needed to be from Twelve—the smallest, poorest, and overall weakest district would need the most encouragement to fight.
They would've been sent to the Capitol closer to the time that they'd finished their main training, but Thirteen hadn't had the confidence that they'd be able to launch a counter-attack, wasn't sure that there was someone eligible in District Twelve... but, now, Plutarch Heavensbee had found a few possible leaders in the population, and The District had become stronger.
But it wasn't long before the peace and quiet that had settled over them was interrupted by a jumbled, panicked shout over the pilot's radio.
It was practically incoherent and, in the other person's panic, already the words were a bit fast and slurred. The pilot, however, seemed to be a bit more professional and as the other person continued yelling things, was already hitting buttons on the hovercraft's control panel, setting it to autopilot, and then going to get something.
"What is it?" Boggs asked him, already seeming to be overly alert and on-edge.
"Glitch in our system," Arden explained hurriedly. "Capitol's picked up on our location. Monitors back in The District suggest we get out as soon as possible." By now he seemed to be using another feature of the control panel to answer the initial message.
"We can't abandon the mission," Boggs said. There was no doubt that the sentence was an order, and not a suggestion.
"Of course not, but the radar says that the Capitol's got hovercrafts on the way. We're going to land right... now!" Back at the control panel, the pilot was already landing the hovercraft with a smooth, spiraling descent.
Now the retired commander was already talking very quickly, giving orders and explanations. "From where we are, we're on the right track, just a few miles further out than we planned. I've sent a message to Heavensbee with the update. Be careful, but you two—" he gestured to Cinna and Portia "—are going to have to get there for yourselves from here. The rest of us have to get back to District Thirteen!"
He handed them a backpack each, which appeared to be what he had gone to retrieve earlier. One of the doors slid open silently, and the two hardly had time to brace themselves before they were being edged towards the opening. "Go!" The command came in a lowered shout, and then they found themselves racing through the woods, the hovercraft nowhere in sight.
But the city landscape seemed so far away! Still, breathing and heart rates unsteady already, the two continued onwards, into thick forestry that seemed to go on forever.
There were the sounds of quiet footsteps not too far behind them, coming from the slight clearing that they had just gone through. Peacekeepers, probably having dropped out of the now visible hovercraft over the woods, which almost seemed to be following them. But maybe that was just their own hallucinating from paranoia.
It was almost too late by the time they realized that they were being followed, though, and they were left with very few choices. Taking off again deeper into the woods without being pursued seemed impossible. No time to find a real place to hide—there were trees, only trees. They found themselves left with only one real option—fighting back—when they were armed with only simple weapons and most likely outnumbered.
Or apparently not. Only two Peacekeepers did emerge from the clearing, giving them a fairly level playing field, and they didn't seem to be the most prepared either—also seemingly only armed with knives, themselves. It was the middle of the night, after all, so they probably hadn't had a lot of time to prepare when they were called in.
Cinna and Portia, intelligence and thirteen years of intensive training giving them an advantage over the two startled and unprepared Peacekeepers, easily overcame the half-hearted attack. They slipped through the search for intruders, using the skills of evasion that they had perfected over the years.
The hovercrafts overheard faded back into the air again, seeming to have abandoned the search, confused since they had lost the Peacekeepers' tracking.
The two of them continued trying to shake off their now invisible pursuers, changing their paths as often as they dared, never losing sight of the Capitol skyline just over the tops of the mountains.
It really didn't seem like that long until they saw the hovercraft becoming visible again in the distance, landing somewhere far off in the Capitol. Why had they gone back? Had they assumed that whoever they were tracking was dead already? Wouldn't they have noticed that the two Peacekeepers hadn't returned?
But eventually, the two were forced to stop when they reached the Capitol fence blocking the tunnel entrance to the city. Several feet high, electric... there was no getting past it. Silently, the two merely stayed very quiet and still, out of sight until they saw the wire barrier slide to one side.
It felt like eternities until that happened, maybe just because they were both still so on-edge after the brief battle, but the sky was still completely dark other than a gentle glow of light from the moon. From both of their places, the two of them watched as Plutarch Heavensbee emerged from nearby shadows before either of them moved into sight.
"Ah, yes, here you are," Plutarch said, almost a little too brightly, though his voice was still quiet, since they were in the middle of the woods. "Sorry about the time delay, I was in a Gamemakers' meeting when I got the message, and it ran a bit late, but... well, that's not important. What's important is that we're all here now, right?"
Cinna and Portia both agreed, and without another word, he led them back through the tunnel he had come through, punching a code in a control panel to turn the electricity back on and put the fence back into its place.
Plutarch continued to lead them through the darkness towards a large building. His smile was barely visible while he observed the reactions of the two newest Capitol residents as they tried to orient themselves with the city's layout. Maybe their constant sideways glances were just habit, or maybe they were curiosity. It would've been hard to tell.
Plutarch was explaining, very quietly, some of the last details that they hadn't yet heard. (Communication between District Thirteen and the Capitol wasn't always the best.) "We have an apartment set up for you. It has everything you should need, and enough money to last until you start being paid for being stylists," he said at one point as they walked on. They were already aware that it would be of value to have him on their side as a Gamemaker when they applied for the two District Twelve positions, but couldn't help but think that they should've been fine on their own, anyways.
The front room of the complex they'd been approaching was nearly empty except for one tired-looking Capitol citizen who was working at the front desk. She barely even looked up when the three of them walked in. "Stay here," Plutarch said to the two of them, gesturing to the area closer to the door that they'd come in through, and with that, approached the front desk.
Not too long later, he returned and handed them a stack of papers. "There—that's taken care of," he said. "Seventh floor. I'll see you both at your interview." And he exited the building.
The two of them were sure by now that he had to have some sort of experience with this. They made eye contact for just a second—the silent communication that they'd always been capable of—and then they started to head towards the elevator, arriving at the seventh floor just a few moments later.
Cinna flipped through the stack of papers until he found one that had their apartment number on it—798—and the electronic pass code to gain entry to it—2173. He led the way there, to the last door on the right, and then typed in the second set of numbers on the keypad. There was a quiet beeping sound before the door opened narrowly.
He handed her the stack of papers and closed the door behind them. Suddenly feeling tired, she set the papers down on a nearby coffee table. It was then that they realized just how exhausted they both felt—alone and without any immediate danger present. They'd both probably gotten a total of five hours of sleep within the past three days, and while that wasn't really any sort of record for either of them, it was enough to make sleep extremely tempting, combined with the fact that it was now nearing dawn.
"You should be getting some rest," Cinna said finally, breaking the silence that had settled over them.
"I should? I think that should be we should," Portia corrected him, not bothering to directly comment on the rest of what he'd said.
"I think I'll try and found out when there are interviews available first," he responded. Then he nudged her shoulder. "Go on. I'll be there in a few minutes."
"Fine," she sighed.
With that said, she picked one of the bedrooms at random and walked into it, putting the backpack she still had from the hovercraft down as she did. The room did certainly did seem... Capitolistic. At least, to Portia, it did.
There was just so much technology—plus windows, doors, floors and ceilings that adjusted at your command. A control panel on the wall near the door she had just come through modified the lighting and temperature. Windows and mirrors were scattered everywhere, and all of the colors almost seemed just a bit too bright on the eyes at first.
Perhaps most of all, the size of it was positively captivating, especially to someone who had been used to sharing a simple, small compartment in District Thirteen. But here there was the main bedroom part of it, an attached dressing area and bathroom, and an outdoor private balcony behind sliding glass doors that were concealed by silken curtains. Absolutely incredible, and so completely like the Capitol.
Something not feeling quite right about just going to bed, Portia gave herself twenty minutes to shower and dress in warm pajamas that were much more comfortable than the standard District Thirteen uniform. (Though she did, in fact, end up going over her estimated time goal, seeing as it took her about half of that time to figure out how to work some of the technologies involved.)
And still, even after she'd turned off the lights and gotten in bed, Cinna still seemed to be researching the interview times.
She sighed and let her eyes fall closed, relaxing a bit after all the tension of the night before.
She didn't even notice his presence until she felt him settling into the bed beside her. "Must you always sneak up on me?" she asked him. He was the only one who ever could, after all.
"I thought you might've been asleep already," he answered her quietly. "Didn't want to wake you."
She moved closer to him, feeling his arms go around her automatically. "Get some rest," he instructed, and she gave in to the welcoming darkness of sleep.