Disclaimer: Hunger Games does not in any way belong to me, it's the property of Suzanne Collins, etc. The lyrics don't belong to me either.
When the mirrors and the lights and the smoke clear
I'd never guess how we ever could have got here.
You can say what you say when the lights go down,
So shake shake shake, and shut your mouth.
- Celebrity Status, by Mariana's Trench
A/N: I swear, I was going to do a chapter from Peeta's POV, but then this song jumped me, and, well, here we are. It includes Peeta, at least..! Uh, warning: character death(s).
Celebrity Status (ii)
Katniss shoots President Coin.
There is a beat of stunned silence.
Finnick and Peeta, the only other survivors of the 'Star Squad', were standing beside her onstage. Finnick was personally sickened that Coin had wanted to usher in the new government – her new government - with such a disgusting spectacle. He thought Snow deserved to die, yes, but this public execution was hardly the way to go about doing it. This decision, along with the suggestion to hold a final Hunger Games for the children of prominent Capitol citizens (the votes had been tied; Finnick, Annie, Peeta and Beetee against, Katniss, Haymitch, Enobaria and Johanna for – but Coin cast her own vote in favour, thus making the final decision) only confirmed a thought that had been lurking at the back of Finnick's mind for a long time: Coin and Snow were exactly the same. Two sides of one coin; reflections in a mirror.
Time moves again; the crowd roars in outrage as Snow gives a sick, bloody laugh that develops into a coughing fit. None of the three victors on the stage notice this, however.
Finnick watches as Katniss twists her head, raising her arm simultaneously. He realizes what she's going to do seconds before it actually happens. From the look of horror on Peeta's face, his outstretched hand – he realizes too.
They realize too late. Peeta's hand closes on empty air; Finnick sees her throat work as she swallows the nightlock pill.
For one surreal moment, a series of images flashes before his eyes: a blond boy tossing a burned loaf of bread; a handmade bow; a goat with a pink ribbon; a pond in the middle of a forest; Gale's grey eyes staring up without regret as she drops the holo; rising flames–
Katniss staggers back, her knees failing. Peeta falls with her, words spilling from his lips – please, Katniss, don't do this, you don't need to, why – as Finnick stands beside them, frozen. His mind tells him it's already too late, Peeta's words are in vain, but he doesn't voice this thought.
Finnick is half-expecting a cannon to boom, announcing the death of the Girl on Fire. One doesn't come, of course; the only sounds are the yells of the crowd and the struggle in front of the stage as the soldiers try to keep the crowd away.
"Katniss, Katniss, Katniss..." Peeta is moaning, rocking her back and forth in his arms. Her gray eyes are open, but they hold none of the determination that Finnick has become familiar with.
Gunshots split the air.
"Everyone, stay calm!" an authoritative voice orders. It's Commander Paylor – the leader of the rebels in District Eight. Her name is Florence, Finnick remembers dully, his mind still working even though he wants nothing more than to break, as Peeta is doing.
"The Mockingjay!" people cry, half-despairing, half-angry.
"You need to go, Finnick," Paylor says in an undertone, sparing a sorrowful glance to them. "Take him with you."
Finnick meets her eyes, nods his understanding. This is something he can do. He kneels beside Peeta, clasps his shoulder with as much strength as he can muster. "Peeta," he says quietly, urgently.
Anguished, tear-bright blue eyes meet his for a moment, then Peeta hugs Katniss' corpse to him. "I won't go, I won't leave her, won't, I won't, I won't!"
Finnick glances around. Despite the temporary reprieve after Paylor fired those shots, the crowd is still more mob than anything. They need to go.
"Peeta. Peeta, we need to go. You and-" Finnick's throat tightens, he doesn't think he can say her name, but he does, "-and Katniss. We have to go, all of us."
"I won't go," Peeta mutters, rubbing the palm of one hand against his temple. "Can't- It's not real, it's not. Finnick, real or not real?" he asks, looking up at Finnick with those blue, blue eyes.
Finnick swallows, has to force himself to hold that intense, pleading gaze. "We have to get out of here. We have to get Katniss out of here," he says, hating himself for his weakness, but seeing no alternative. "People are angry... At Katniss. You don't want her to get hurt, do you?" he questions gently.
Peeta flinches. "No, no. Don't want that," he agrees, rising. The body is held bridal-style in Peeta's arms. Finnick thinks he is going to be sick. "Grab her bow, she wouldn't want it to be left behind," Peeta orders to him, and he complies without protesting. It seems that playing on Peeta's protective instincts was the right choice, but Finnick hates himself for taking advantage like that anyway.
Paylor grabs his shoulder as he moves to follow Peeta off the stage. "There's a car- It will take you somewhere safe," she tells him. Finnick nods and pulls away. He isn't sure if he should trust this woman, but she seems to be a better person than Coin and Snow, and that is an improvement anyway.
"This way, Peeta," he says, hurrying up to the blond. He slips his hand around Peeta's upper arm, guiding him to the armoured vehicle. Haymitch and Plutarch are waiting within; as soon as the door closes behind Finnick, they speed away.
Haymitch has that look on his face, the one that appears after every bloodbath in the Hunger Games, after he has lost another pair of tributes, except it seems ten, no, a thousand times worse this time. Finnick glances out the window, watching the brightly-coloured Capitol buildings blur as they go past.
"Who left the nightlock pill on her suit?" Plutarch demands, and Finnick hates him in that moment. Peeta gets there first, though.
"This is your fault," Peeta spits, grief transforming into righteous fury. Finnick thinks he knows Peeta pretty well, but he never expected this kind of fire from him. "You- This is all just a game to you, it always was! The stupid public execution- The Hunger Games-" He lunges at the former Gamemaker, but Haymitch and Finnick grab each of his arms. Katniss' body, which had been laid across his lap, rolls off to the floor of the vehicle with a dull thump.
Peeta looks stricken, caves in on himself. He gathers the corpse back into his arm, brushes her hair away from her face, busies himself with fixing the parts of her uniform that had been knocked awry.
Finnick is privately horrified. Plutarch says nothing, staring thoughtfully at the blond, and that scares Finnick even more; how can the man regard this kind of disaster with such detached objectivity? There are casualties in war, always, but Katniss is not just another statistic. Katniss is not another nameless, faceless soldier, thank you for your bravery, your memory will be honoured, your sacrifice will not be forgotten. Katniss is- Katniss is-
"I need a stiff drink," Haymitch mutters. A choked sob can be heard from Peeta.
...
Finnick has the best intention of staying with Peeta and Haymitch and dealing with the fallout of Katniss' suicide and her assassination of President Coin, but as soon as they get back to the Training Centre, he finds himself separated from them.
"Finnick," Annie breathes, her hands clutching his arm tightly. He pulls her closer, pressing his face into her dark hair.
"I'm fine," he assures her, leading her away from the crowd/mob that has taken up residence in the lobby. They get onto an elevator, and Finnick presses the button for the fourth floor.
"But Peeta- and Katniss..." Annie mumbles, her hands fisting into the material of his shirt. She doesn't seem to want to let him go; Finnick can't blame her for that. He isn't too keen on releasing her anytime soon either.
"Katniss is dead," Finnick says. He is surprised and yet not surprised that he is angry about Katniss committing suicide. Angry at Katniss, at Coin, at himself, the Capitol... He pushes his anger away, needs to focus on comforting Annie.
She gives a choked sob, almost hidden under the ding that signals their elevator has reached its destination. He's been coming to this floor for years; his mind flashes to all the people that the Capitol has stolen life from who once inhabited this floor, however briefly: Mags, and Caesar, and all the other victors (though, to be fair, he imagines that the rebels took out a fair number of the victors themselves) and all those tributes.
"It's going to be okay, Annie," Finnick says, and he almost believes it. Except Katniss is dead, Peeta and Haymitch are broken, and as for Annie... Finnick needs to be strong for her.
"But Peeta... What is Peeta going to do?" Annie asks, pulling away to gaze up at him with her ever-innocent, sea green eyes. They're almost the mirror image of his own, except Finnick knows that his eyes will never portray such innocence.
"Peeta's strong. He'll... survive," Finnick says, which isn't a lie, but he thought Katniss was strong, was a survivor, too. He distracts himself from these thoughts by tightly clasping their hands together as he leads her out of the elevator.
Annie nods, seeming to accept this answer. At another time, Finnick would despair at how easily her thoughts are lightened, how simple it is to convince her of important matters, but right now he is just grateful that she seems to be... not happy, but content, once more.
"We'll help him," Annie agrees. "He'll survive; we'll make him, won't we?"
Absurdly, Finnick feels the urge to smile at this hesitant declaration. "Of course. Victors need to stick together," he answers, leading her to the room that they've claimed for themselves; it is what used to be the male mentor's room.
"Except for Enobaria. She can survive on her own," Annie decides. Finnick can't argue with that. The last remaining victor from District Two is certainly tough enough... But then, he's always thought Johanna was one of the toughest people he's ever met, and she is still marked by what the Capitol put her through.
On second thought, he doesn't think he will ever voice that comparison. He likes keeping his limbs attached.
"Unless she asks for help," Finnick concludes, wincing slightly at the direction his thoughts are going.
"Well, yes. But I don't think she will," Annie agrees, shrugging slightly.
And then they are in their room. Annie tugs shyly on his sleeve, so different from the presumptuous, demanding touches of his 'clients' that Finnick cannot say no – not that he would want to, because this is Annie, the tribute he had to mentor, the woman he came to love, the last and most important member of his family-
The woman he married.
Finnick leans down slightly, presses their lips together, allows Annie to lead him to their bed. He can certainly understand her need to ensure that he is in fact fine, and whole, and alive.
...
Sometime later, Finnick is laying beside Annie, idly running his fingers through her dark hair as she dozes.
Through the partially open door, he hears the ding of the elevator. His gaze flicks to the door and he tenses slightly.
"Finnick? Annie?" calls a familiar voice. It's Beetee.
Annie stirs, her eyes opening sleepily. This is testament to how far she has come from her time in the Capitol, after Finnick and Katniss and Beetee escaped the arena. Whenever someone startled her, Annie would freeze up, but now she is calm, feels safe in Finnick's presence again. "Is that Beetee?" she murmurs, rubbing a hand over one eye.
"Mm. I'll go see what he wants," Finnick answers. "Just a sec, Beetee," he calls back in response; it's no secret what he and Annie have been doing, but it could potentially be awkward if the other victor walked in on them in bed together.
He reluctantly leaves Annie, kissing her lightly before he climbs out of bed, pulls on the pair of pants he was wearing earlier, then walks out to the main area of the floor.
Beetee blinks once, seeing Finnick's bare chest and feet, but otherwise doesn't react. It takes a lot to shake most victors, and Beetee is no exception. "There you are. How's Annie?" the man asks.
"Shaken," Finnick answers, because it's true. He imagines they're all shaken by Katniss' actions. He has a feeling he knows what Beetee wants to discuss, so he leads the man to the dining room. That way, Annie won't have to overhear anything.
"How are things–?" Finnick asks, glancing out the window. There are people on the streets, but it doesn't seem like total chaos down there, so he supposes things must not be too bad.
"Peeta and Haymitch are getting drunk," Beetee replies, frowning slightly. "Johanna isn't too far behind."
Finnick exhales heavily, runs a hand through his sleep-mussed hair. "Not exactly unexpected," he says quietly, sadly.
Beetee nods. "Paylor's here- she wants to discuss what our next move will be. We're meeting on the twelfth floor," he explains.
Ah. That explains things. "Do you think she-"
The other victor shakes his head. "I don't think so. She seems much more sincere than Snow or Coin ever was; not to mention she was actually an active part of the rebellion, rather than directing things behind the scenes."
Finnick accepts Beetee's assessment, because while he might have participated in the bombing of innocent children, Beetee is honest and an excellent judge of situations.
"I'll be up in a few minutes," Finnick says; he wants to be a part of the shaping of the new nation of Panem, and someone who knows what happened in the Capitol when their squad was separated from the main portion of the rebel army needs to be there. Peeta hardly counts, because he was damaged before, and is doubtless in no shape to help make decisions of any sort.
Beetee nods again. "I'll go tell them," he says, then returns to the elevator. Finnick stands for a moment in front of the window, staring down at the mass of people who seem to be waiting for...something. Finnick doesn't know what they expect, but hopefully between them the victors and Paylor will come up with something suitable.
Annie is dressed when he returns to the room. She helpfully hands him a clean shirt and a new pair of socks.
Finnick blinks, but puts the garments on nonetheless. "There's a meeting on the twelfth floor," he explains. Annie nods, as if she anticipated this. Apparently she did.
...
There is a long table in the dining room on the twelfth floor. Haymitch and Peeta sit at one end, surrounded by a seemingly endless supply of alcohol. Finnick bites his lip, but doesn't protest when Annie leads him to that side and sits them down beside Peeta.
Enobaria is sitting across from them, towards the middle of the table. Her face is as impassive as ever. Johanna is on Annie's other side, Beetee beside Enobaria and Plutarch and Paylor sit at the other end.
"Excellent, now that everyone's here, we can begin discussion," Plutarch says, starting the ball rolling.
Finnick would glare at him, but he thinks that might upset Annie, so he settles for staring hard at the bottle of alcohol sitting in front of him. Peeta is swaying slightly in his seat, an unfocussed look in his eyes.
"Are we still going through with the last iteration of the Hunger Games?" Beetee asks, frowning slightly. "I think there should be a new vote, at the very least."
Plutarch nods. "True. Who's in favour of holding one last Game?"
"My answer is still no," Finnick says firmly. Annie nods in agreement beside him. Peeta stirs.
"No," he mutters, somehow managing to slur the word.
Haymitch breaks the bottle of beer, or something like that, that he is holding. "Yes, I'm in favour," he says hoarsely.
"I still think they should get a taste of what they inflicted on the districts," Enobaria puts in coldly.
"Amen," Johanna snaps, her voice cracking. "It's what Katniss wanted."
Peeta stiffens at Finnick's side. "She was grieving for the death of her sister," he spits angrily, leaning forward to glare across Annie and Finnick at Johanna.
"Yeah? And aren't you grieving for her?" Johanna shoots back, half-rising out of her seat in anger. "Shouldn't you be doing what she would have wanted, now that she can't?"
"Don't use her to justify your bad decisions," Peeta retorts, moving to rise as well. Annie places a hand on Johanna's arm, which seems to calm her. Finnick grasps Peeta's arm too, digging his fingers into the faded yet still reddened band from the handcuffs that is still around Peeta's wrist. The blue eyes flicker to Finnick's for a moment, then Peeta slumps back in his chair, jerking his arm out of Finnick's grasp.
Plutarch clears his throat. "Very well, that's three in favour and three against. Beetee..?"
"I'm still against it," Beetee says, looking slightly uncomfortable to be the deciding vote.
Johanna snarls under her breath, but doesn't comment.
"So, there won't be any further Hunger Games," Paylor summarizes. "Next issue: what should be done about the new government? With Coin gone, there isn't anyone else to step up as president."
"That's easy; you want to be president, don't you?" Peeta says coldly and clearly. His voice sounds like it did when he first returned from the Capitol. Finnick doesn't like it, even if the blond is merely voicing what he had already been thinking. "I mean, why else would you be here?"
Paylor inclines her head slightly. "That is my hope," she agrees, "but I don't want to just step into the role. There needs to be choice, democracy- the people need to choose their leader, rather than have their leader chosen for them."
"So hold an election," Enobaria says indifferently. "I don't see why you need to consult us."
"I wanted to know if any of you were interested in running," Paylor explains.
Finnick shakes his head immediately. He wants to be a part of shaping the future, but he certainly doesn't want to be the one directing it. The only one of the victors he thinks might want to is Beetee, but when he looks over, the other man is shaking his head as well.
"Then, once things have calmed down and the smoke clears, I'll need someone to announce the upcoming elections," Paylor remarks, and though she doesn't even look at him, Finnick knows this comment is aimed at him. He, Peeta and Katniss were the face of the rebellion; Katniss is now dead, and Peeta is in no condition to even be at this meeting, so the obvious choice is himself.
"I can do that," Finnick says evenly, though he wants nothing more than to never stand in front of a camera again. All he wants is to make sure this Panem will be safe for him to raise a family in, a country where he can live in peace and not have to worry about the government intervening. Annie grasps his hand tightly, giving him a small smile.
Paylor nods. "Thank you, Finnick."
Finnick shrugs. "Yeah."
"I'll help," Peeta says.
Haymitch laughs into his latest bottle of alcohol.
...
So that was how Finnick found himself standing next to Peeta on a stage disturbingly reminiscent of the one used in Flickerman's interviews about a week and a half after Coin's assassination.
Finnick and Annie tried to see Peeta several times a day, but after about three days of this, he finally snapped and told them that he couldn't stand the sight of them, the sight of two people in love happily reunited when his own love was lying six feet in the ground. Never mind that Katniss had never actually said she loved him, and that she picked him over Gale, and it certainly seemed like she'd picked Gale, didn't it, her committing suicide after Gale had died and leaving Peeta here to deal with the fallout and–
Peeta had broken down crying at that point, curling into himself, mumbling under his breath and staring at the ground. Annie had gone to him immediately, humming softly as she gently embraced him. Finnick had watched, frozen; he wasn't used to the sight of Annie helping someone through a mental breakdown – usually she was the one in the latter position, after all.
It had gone surprisingly...well. Peeta had stopped crying, and Annie had looked at Finnick. "You don't have to stay," she had remarked, and Finnick... had been feeling awkward anyway, so he nodded and went to wait outside Peeta's room.
When Annie had come out of the room, she told him that Peeta wasn't fine, probably wouldn't be for a long time, but as long as they came to visit him separately, the blond would be ok with that – most likely.
Still, this is the first time that Finnick has seen Peeta since then; he's left visiting the blond to Annie, feeling guilty about it but not enough so to actually go see him – which made him more guilty, and–
"All right there, Finnick?" Peeta asks, a ghost of a smile on his lips. He is obviously tired, large bags visible under his eyes though they have been expertly covered by makeup.
Finnick arches an eyebrow in response. "I've been better," he replies dryly.
The blond snorts and turns his attention back to Cressida. She is the one in charge of filming, which is good because if it had been Plutarch, Finnick probably would have mutinied, Peeta along with him.
"Ready?" the woman asks.
"No," Finnick answers, at the same time as Peeta says, "Never."
They exchange a glance, half-smiling at each other. And this – this is ok, Finnick thinks.
Cressida sighs. "Five minutes."
"So, did you write a speech or something?" Peeta asks.
"Beetee wrote one for me," Finnick admits, holding out the cue cards the other victor had given him earlier. "He included parts for you too, if you want."
The blond shakes his head. "I was thinking we should just wing it, actually."
Finnick blinks. "And say what?"
"The government is corrupt? Trust no one?" Peeta says cynically, and it might have been on this side of not funny if Peeta had been joking; since he seems to be completely serious, Finnick panics a little, inwardly.
"Peeta," Finnick says quietly, moving closer to the younger man. He ignores the curious looks of the production crew, feeling grateful when he sees Cressida hustle most of them out a few moments later. "Peeta, I think Paylor is sincere. I feel like... like she can make a difference. She can be the person Coin was supposed to be, a new President who can lead Panem out of its legacy of servitude."
"So you'd trust her unconditionally with your life?" Peeta fires back, his smile slightly crazy and totally insincere. Finnick aches to see it.
"No; but what I'm trying to ask you to do is this: don't poison the people against her, or any of the other candidates who are stepping forward to run, for that matter. People can make informed decisions for themselves, based on the performance of the candidates – they already know that blindly trusting in an authority figure is foolish. There's no need to state it so blatantly."
Peeta closes his eyes, rubs the heel of one hand against his eye, smearing the carefully-applied makeup in the process.
"I suppose that's what they did with Katniss?" he asks, though he obviously knows the answer. "Told her what to say, how to act?"
Finnick flinches at the mention of her name. "She was different, Peeta—"
"Yeah, Katniss was the one they wanted. They picked her up specifically, didn't they? Never mind me, or Johanna, or even Enobaria!" Peeta hisses, suddenly furious. "If they hadn't pushed her- If—"
"She chose to become the Mockingjay," Finnick points out quietly.
"What was the alternative? Let the rebellion crumble? Of course she chose to become their Mockingjay," Peeta spits back. He seems to be shaking, his hands clenching and unclenching as he glares at Finnick.
"She still had a choice," Finnick says.
"It wasn't supposed to be like this," Peeta mutters, hugging his arms around himself. "I was supposed to die for her- in the first Games, or the Quarter Quell, or in the Capitol... We'd won, Finnick. Why did Katniss- Why—"
"She made her choice, Peeta," he answers, but it doesn't feel like much of an answer; more like a cop-out. Some vague platitude you say because it's socially acceptable – so and so died; oh, I'm so sorry.
Peeta nods jerkily, dashing a hand over his eyes. "Let me look over the speech," he says, his voice slightly raspy but his eyes determined. "I'll say my part."
Finnick hands the cue cards (slightly crushed from Finnick's grip on them). "Uh, Peeta? You messed up your makeup," he says cautiously.
The blond looks furious again. "I can't- Damn it, I can't sit through another session with-" He waves his arms vaguely, which Finnick takes to mean his new prep team. He has to agree; just because the Capitol has fallen doesn't mean most of its citizens have suddenly matured or developed fully-functioning consciences or anything like that. They're still pretty much as airheaded as ever, except they voice some complaints about the loss of liberty (i.e. no more ridiculous feasts). Finnick just wanted to punch something when he was done with them. So yes, he can understand Peeta's sentiments.
"It's fine, I can fix it," Finnick assures him, reaching up to carefully smooth his thumb under Peeta's eyes. After a bit of smearing, it looks almost as good as it did before.
"Ease of long practice?" Peeta asks, one eyebrow quirking up.
Finnick has to work not to flinch. "You could say that," he agrees. He's very familiar with smeared and ruined makeup, has had lots of practice attempting to fix, or having to reapply it, thanks to his previous 'engagements'. But Peeta must know this?
"Thanks," Peeta says, and he seems to mean it. Finnick never knows what to think when it comes to the blond, never has and probably never will.
"Ready then?" Cressida asks, re-entering the room, and Finnick steps back, hands dropping his sides.
"I think so... Peeta?" he questions. "You don't have to do this, if you don't want to," he adds quietly.
"I'm... ready," Peeta says, shrugging. "Here, your part's first."
The rest of the filming crew has filed in by then, and Cressida nods. "Three, two-" She mouths one and the lights are focussed on them. Finnick used to enjoy being in the spotlight, but that pleasure has long since faded.
"People of Panem..." he begins, barely glancing at the cards in his hand.
From the corner of his eye, he can see Peeta shaking slightly.
...
And after what seems like an interminable period (though it's probably closer to an hour) Finnick and Peeta practically run out of the studio. Annie is waiting for them in the lobby, and the trio of victors makes their way to the waiting vehicle.
Peeta is pale, his hands shaking much more perceptibly now.
"Finnick, what did you say to him?" Annie asks, sounding almost accusing.
"What? I didn't say anything," Finnick says defensively, before realizing that, ok, maybe he did say a few harsh words.
"He said what I needed to hear," Peeta puts in, giving Annie a reassuring smile. It seems more like a grimace though.
Annie frowns slightly. "Don't let him bully you, Peeta," she says seriously.
"I would never," Finnick mutters, torn between outrage and amusement.
"It's fine, Annie, really," Peeta says, staring down at his hands.
Silence descends. Finnick would really like to grab onto Annie and hold her tightly, but Peeta asked (well, yelled) for them not to do so in his presence, and Finnick can respect his wishes, at least in this.
"Peeta," he begins impulsively. "I don't know what you're planning to do now that-" you're on your own, almost slips out, but he manages to bite his tongue before that little gem can be voiced, "-things have settled down, but you're welcome to come to District Four with us."
Annie and Peeta both shoot surprised glances at him, which he thinks is a little unfair, but then Annie's nodding. "Of course, you're more than welcome to, Peeta," she agrees earnestly.
Peeta shrugs slightly, glancing back down at his hands.
"You don't have to decide now," Finnick assures him. "And we won't be offended if you refuse," he adds.
"Haymitch can come too," Annie tacks on. "I don't like the idea of him alone in District Twelve..."
Finnick nods.
"I don't know," Peeta mutters, finally. "Dr. Aurelius still needs to treat me- I'm not totally safe to be around, yet." Even if you're not Katniss, seems to be left unsaid.
"It's an open invitation," Finnick says. "Whenever you want to."
"I'll think about," Peeta says truthfully, and that's all he could ask for, really.
A/N: Not actually too happy with this one. It didn't really turn out like I wanted, but it gets the job done. :l
Next chapter may be the 74th Games from Peeta's POV, but I'm not sure. I haven't decided if I want to do them, since everyone knows what happens, anyway. We'll see. (And updates will be as sporadic/unreliable as ever ~)
Any thoughts/suggestions/criticisms will be gratefully accepted, by the way. ;)