Chapter Three- The Man With The Crutch

After the Sacking of The Capitol, when everything settled down, we set up a Lost and Found register. People could come and put their names and addresses down in case someone from their family came looking for them.

I usually volunteer a couple of hours most days, it beats sitting around in the mansion twiddling my thumbs, or worse, thinking.

Annie came with me on the first day but there were so many people that wanted to touch her stomach and tell her how sorry they are that she found it too overwhelming and now just stays inside.

I sit at a fold-out table on the sidewalk outside the Training Center while a line of people snakes around the whole circle, desperate to find out whether their loved ones are alive or dead. It feels pretty good when someone asks for a name and you can give them an address, but then it's agonising when you know that name is on the list of casualties from the storm on the Capitol.

I see tears, I see screaming, I see smiles and hugs, I see white knuckles and chest beating. It's amazing and then five seconds later its awful. I'm alright, I know that my loved ones are all gone. I don't have that fear of what name I might read on the Deceased List.

I'm still nursing a hangover from my little self-pity party when a sharply dressed young man comes to my table. His collar is starched and his cuffs a crisp white.

"I'm looking for my brother," he tells me.

"Sure, you and about a thousand other people," I reply, tapping my pencil on my list. "Let's start with your name."

He nods understandingly, biting his lip, his grey eyes shining.

"Libro, Libro Philips."

Philips…could it be…

"And you're originally from?" I jot down without even looking at the paper. Philips is a common surname; there must be hundreds of Philips on these lists.

"District 2, though I've been serving in 4 as a Peacekeeper for the past three years."

"Great, and so your brother would be in District 2?" I check.

"Well, I don't know. He is…or was…a Peacekeeper too, I don't know where he would have been posted."

This chides a little too familiar.

After I won the 71st Annual Hunger Games, like every other Victor, I was encouraged to take up a hobby in my home District, District 7. I started making tree houses, but since District 7 is responsible for providing the whole of Panem with its lumber I had to be constantly watched to make sure I wasn't wasting the precious supply. Part of that crew of guards was a Peacekeeper from District 2 by the name of Corporal Iberio Philips. He was ridiculously tall, and that was all I knew about him in that first year or so.

Three years later, another Peacekeeper attacked my little brother, and Corporal Philips carried him in his arms to the Healer's. My brother didn't survive and I took it hard, wandering out into the snow barefoot in just my pyjamas. Iberio found me and brought me home. We had a 'thing'. It wasn't ever official, or serious, or even physical (aside from a few surprise hormone-driven kisses at emotion-heightened moments), but there was mutual respect, and a couple of lingering longing looks.

Just before I was sent back into the arena for the 75th Annual Hunger Games he was dispatched to District 8. I later found out that this was because the rebellion against the Capitol and the Games had already started there. I had other things on my mind anyway and, except for dark, lonely nights in District 13 after everyone else was gone, I didn't really think about him. Not until last night with Gale of course.

"What is his name, your brother? I'll take a look at my lists."

"It's Iberio Philips," he says and my heart leaps into my throat. "Should I be hoping he's on your lists Ma'am or not?" It seems like his heart is in his too.

"It all depends on which list he's on," I tell him, flicking through the pages with a little more fervour than I usually do. I scan down the P's on the deceased list first. There are a couple of Philips but no Iberio or I. Philips. He's not on the registered list either.

"I'm really sorry but I can't find him anywhere," I tell Libro.

"Is that good news or bad news?"

"It's no news, which at the moment is the worst kind of news. We have some unidentified bodies but since you said he's a Peacekeeper if something had happened to him then he'd—"

"Have his dogtags on him to identify him." Libro finishes for me. "Ok, so he's probably not unidentified then."

"Are you staying here in the Capitol for a while?"

"For the foreseeable future at least."

"Ok, well if you could let me have the address of the place you're staying, if he does come here then we can send him straight on over to you."

"I'm staying in a couple of rooms above what used to be a dressmakers on Silicon Street."

It's an address that I recognise. The influx of people in the Capitol means that people are squeezing into accommodation like matches in a box. Silicon Street was completely ransacked during the war so there are homes and shops going empty. A lot of people are now taking a room each above and inside the shops to sleep in while they find their family or sort their lives out.

After Libro leaves, Yolanda, a hefty Capitol woman who seems to think she runs this operation, has 'a quick word' with me about not mentioning the unidentified bodies. I tell her that I'm done keeping things from people and carry on warning people that just because their loved ones are not on the deceased list, doesn't mean they're safe.

Yolanda complains about me to whoever's in charge of registry. I find out from Annie, who is waiting for me when I get back to the mansion. Apparently they told the pompous trout to leave me be, I've done enough for this nation.

Annie and I pretend we didn't have an argument. She asks me if I knew Gale was back in town. I tell her that I didn't. She raises an eyebrow in a way that makes me think that maybe she already knew that I'd seen him.

Just over a week later I'm coming back from lunch, pushing my way through the heaving, coiling line when I hear a high pitched whine. Frowning, I spin around. What a horrible sound, where it is coming from?

There, diagonally behind me, is a sobbing child. Everyone else seems to be ignoring her. I roll my eyes.

"Hey…err you…what's wrong?"

I tap the girl on the shoulder and she jumps, startled. She stares up at me with shining eyes, she can't be more than five years old.

"Why are you crying?"

She wipes her snotty nose with a sleeve and shakes her head. Kids are disgusting.

"Are you…lost or something?"

She nods and then lunges forwards and attaches herself to my leg. Great.

"Right…well err if you come with me you can stand at my table and if your Mom or whoever comes by they'll see you."

I hear her snivel again against my leg. She better not have gotten snot on my pants.

She clings so tightly to my leg that I can't move without dragging her behind.

"Look, are you going to walk by yourself?"

She shakes her head, so with an irritated groan I lift her up into my arms.

"Let me know if you see your Mom from this vantage point…" I say more to myself than her, she won't understand.

I waddle through the crowd with her on my hip, thinking to myself 'What am I going to do with her if her mother doesn't come'.

I'm almost back at my table when a woman's voice cries out.

"Marina! Marina! I can see her! Someone's got her! That little boy's got her!"

Little boy…great!

A hysterical woman pushes her way through, and the girl in my arms sees her. She instantly reaches out, unbalancing herself. I nearly fall forwards with the force of her reach.

"Marina! Oh my darling!" The woman scoops her wandering child out of my grasp and paws at her face with relief. "Thank you, thank you so much! Than—" She finally looks up and sees my face. "Oh…umm thank you…" Suddenly her gratefulness is muted. Perhaps she doesn't like the idea of her infant daughter being in a killer's hands.

"No problem," I mutter, turning around to continue my journey. As I walk away I hear the mother call out to someone else.

"Excuse me Sir! I've got her! Thank you so much for your help. Johanna Mason found her!" I instinctively turn around at the mention of my name to see who she's talking to.

It's a tall guy, probably a similar age to me, perhaps a few years older. He's wearing a long brown coat that falls to his knees and a brimmed hat pulled down low across his eyes. He hobbles towards her, his left leg looks stiff and he leans on a crutch, relief is spread across his face too. There's something familiar about his gait though, the way he holds himself.

He tips his hat at the lady and then looks over her shoulder at me. We're both sort of captured looking at each other. I know this person. Who is it?

He seems to be equally confused and lifts off his hat, holding it to his chest.

I see one stone-grey eye, and one bright white eye which has a scar stricken through it reaching from between his eyebrows, down to the top of his left cheekbone. There's no mistaking his identity now though.

There are about five steps between him and I, but I feel like I hover the whole distance. The world disappears around us and I stand almost chest-to-chest with him.

"Iberio…" I whisper, unsure. Is it really him?

He clears his throat and nods, his eyes hitting the floor.

My hands are on his coat, running up the lapels. I can't believe it's him. Here. Alive. Where his lapels end at his collar, I seize it in two fists and pull his face down to mine. I kiss his lips hard and desperately.

Everyone I've lost and now I've finally found someone.

Eventually I come to my senses and realise that it's been a very long time since we were last in this position, and even then it was a little awkward, so I pull away, straightening his collar as I do.

"Sorry about that…" I say quietly after a little, awkward clearing of the throat.

"And there was me thinking you wouldn't recognise me…" he smiles, touching the back of his neck with the hand not on the crutch.

"Oh I don't, this is how I say hello to strangers now." I grin, my eyes flicking all over him, taking in everything I can.

"Well then, it's nice to meet you." He lowers his head again and drops a feather-light kiss to my mouth. "That's how I say that now."

"Good to know, good to know," I nod.

My hand finds it's way up to his left cheek, just under the scar. He winces.

"Does it hurt?"

He shakes his head.

"Not anymore, not physically anyway." Then he matches my touch by placing his own free hand against my cheek. "Not now I know you still recognise me underneath it."

My heart swells as he guides our lips together again. I don't know if it's the rush of seeing someone from home, or the relief of knowing he's not dead, but I could stay here all day, just kissing him, everything else forgotten about. Except…except that there are people around us. Lost people, looking for their loved ones. People who are afraid that their loved ones are dead, and here I am flaunting my found…friend in front of them all. With all the kissing, I can hardly tell them that he's my broth—

"Your brother!" I break away and exclaim.

"Oddly, that's not the first time that's happened when I've kissed a girl," he says bemused.

"No! Your brother, he was here! I have his address! It's right at my table! Come on!" I let go of him and bound through the crowd towards my table. When I reach my table I realise that I am not being closely followed. I've lost him already.

"Iberio?!" I call out.

"Coming, coming!" He appears behind another tall man, his hat back on his head as he hobbles towards me.

"Sorry, I…I forgot about…" I nod at the crutch.

"Don't worry, I forget too sometimes, what are you looking at?"

"Oh yes, this is the list of people who have reported addresses for us to send their family to if they appear." I turn back to face the table and feel him move in close behind me. When I stand up straight, list in hand, he presses his cheek against my temple. Just like he did the day he picked me up in the snow to stop me from freezing to death. I steal a moment to take a deep breath and collect myself before I show him the list.

"Look here it is: Libro Philips, above the dressmakers on Silicon Street."

He reaches around to take the list from me. He holds it closer, and to the right hand side. He must be blind in his left eye because of it's discolouration, or it's a different colour because he's blind…I don't know.

He lets out a shaky breath and murmurs,

"I can't believe it. He's here?"

"A couple of blocks that way," I point across the street. "You could walk it."

"He's…alive…he's ok?"

As I look at him, he's still staring at the list, both eyes moving across the paper, but only one eye seeing it.

"I'd say he's definitely come off all of this the best. No obvious injuries," I tell him.

Iberio gives the paper a smile, "He was always the handsome one."

"Hmm…I wouldn't say that." I tease the paper out of his hands and set it down on the table again.

He pulls me into his body and holds me tightly.

"You're wonderful." He kisses the top of my head twice.

I try to think of some kind of joke to come back with but I can't. He's found his brother.

"Go," I say quietly.

"What?" Keeping his arms around me, he pulls back a little.

"Go," I say again, more determinedly. "Go to him. Seriously, just down there, go straight for two blocks and Silicone Street is on your right. Tell him I said 'hi'."

He looks down at me speechless.

"But…I just found you," he finally gets out.

"So? You'll find me again, I'm here all day. At this very table." I knock twice on the metallic collapsible thing beside me. "Go find your brother. I can wait."

He closes his eyes and holds me tighter against his chest.

"I'll come back," he says.

"I'll be here."

"Just down there?"

"Just down there."

He looks excited. He looks happy. He looks irresistible. I cup the back of his neck and plant one more kiss on him before sending him on his way.

I greet my next family with a beaming smile.