Chapter Ten: Pulse
A/N: A huge thanks to everyone as always who has been kind enough to review, favourite or follow this story. As of this chapter, we're halfway into the story! It's difficult to believe. This story will span the events of Catching Fire, with the third story taking place during the events of Mockingjay. Please review, I really appreciate all of your lovely comments :)
"Welcome to the inner working of my mind
So dark and foul I can't disguise, can't disguise
Nights like this, I become afraid
Of the darkness in my heart."
- Hurricane, MS MR
Finnick's POV
After everything that had happened in the Capitol, I couldn't be gladder to be returning to District 4. I watch Elethea, who is staring out of the window at the countryside that rushes past in a blur. She has been very quiet, and I'm not sure why. It could be for any number of reasons. There's her reckless activity with Elsa, and also the horrific occurrence that Hyperion made me witness. Nonetheless, she's been too caught up in her own thoughts, and we've barely spoken. To avoid the silence, I flick on the television – only to freeze at what appears on the screen.
"Elethea," I call, trying to keep my tone level. "You'd better come and see this."
She crosses over tentatively, but my eyes are glued on the screen. Elsa has been arrested for theft – and although at first my heart hammers in my chest with concern for Elethea, it becomes obvious that it wasn't the raid of Hyperion's apartment that has led to this. Elsa has also stolen from Snow's mansion. I rake my hands through my hair as I see Elethea's horrified expression. That stupid girl. I told her that this would only get her killed, and it looks like it very well might.
Elethea grips my arm tightly. I know that she's scared for her friend. I don't blame her, but whatever Elsa did or whatever she stole, it's big enough to make news all over Panem. She's in deep trouble now, and I can't help but be selfishly grateful that Elethea isn't going to be hanging around her anymore. If Elsa is convicted for treason, then she will die. People don't just steal from President Snow. That's not how it's done. After the report finishes, Elethea sucks in a deep breath.
"What do you think will happen to her?"
I have the distinct feeling that Elsa is going to be put to death, which is always controversial when it comes to Victors. They have to have committed some great crime for that to happen – so most likely Elsa will suffer a mysterious accident, just like the Victor of the 25th Hunger Games. Anyone who defies the Capitol is silenced, one way or another. Elsa is no exception. Even Victors are not beyond the Capitol's reach.
The train starts to slow, and I peer out the window to realise we've finally reached District 4. I exhale deeply, trying to relax my tense muscles. It's a little difficult after the Elsa fiasco. But Elethea is on her feet, and I know why she's excited. Unlike me, she still has some family left. I smile wryly when I notice that, like every other time Elethea returns from the Capitol, Rayne is standing on the platform waiting for her. No one could love Elethea Ambrose as fiercely as her own mother.
I watch as Elethea sprints out onto the platform, flinging her arms around her mother. Things haven't been easy for her, and it's always nice to know that she can always rely on comfort from Rayne. I'm a world apart, because there's no family left. Elethea, Annie, the other Victors…they're the only family that I really have. There are reasons I don't want Elethea to defy the Capitol. I've done it before, and it cost me dearly. It cost me my family. I won't see the same happen to Elethea.
Elethea's POV
On the shores of District 4, there's nothing but the sounds of waves crashing over the rocks and the seagulls squawking on the wind. I glance across at Annie, who is humming to herself as her fingers work carefully at knotting the piece of rope in her hands. Knots always make things seem less complicated. When you're sitting on the beach tying knots, your hands are busy, and your mind is busy working your hands. There's nothing to think about but the task at hand. Sometimes, I find myself inexplicably tying a noose. That's when I know that I have to take the time to calm down.
"How was the Capitol this time?" Annie inquires. I'm so happy that I helped spare her the pain that I now face, that most think Annie Cresta is too mad to be used in the way that Finnick and I are used. She might be older, but I was a Victor first. It was always going to be my duty to shelter her from the horrors of the world after you win the Games.
"As horrible as always." I sigh heavily, setting down the thick piece of rope in my lap. I don't generally like to go into detail with anyone aside from Finnick, but I can trust Annie. I might not tell her everything, but sometimes I feel that Annie has a gift for knowing things that haven't been spoken. When she looks at me, her eyes are solemn. I don't need to say anything, because she knows why I was summoned to the Capitol for the New Year. She knows why she wasn't.
"I want to mentor this year." The words are quiet, but I hear them nonetheless and shake my head vigorously. It's different for Annie. She hasn't been to the Capitol with the tributes, trained them just to watch them die. They're mostly still strangers to her, or people she only knows vaguely. Yet perhaps she senses change like the rest of us. With both the tributes winning from District 12, this year is going to be a very different Hunger Games. Not to mention that it's a Quarter Quell.
"No, Annie."
"Why not?" Annie's eyebrows furrow into a frown. "I'm older than you are, El. You and Finnick have been doing this for years, and I don't see any of the older Victors volunteering to take your place."
I volunteer as mentor, I think bitterly. Most of the Victors have done their time. I couldn't possibly expect them to pick up the burden again just because they think I can't take it. Sometimes, for a mad girl, Annie speaks a lot of sense. There will be another Victor from District 4, and they'll take Finnick's place. Then there will be another to take mine. It's just the way things work.
"You won't be able to handle it."
Annie lifts her chin. "I can try. I'm not that fragile that it would break me. I want to help, El. Let me help."
I remember being fourteen years old and volunteering for the 69th Hunger Games. I was proud then, and too stupid to realise that my life would be destroyed forever. Memories of that still linger, dark and haunting. Romulus pinning me down in the dark. Driving my knife into Dom, repeatedly. Blood on my hands, clothes. My tactic had been simply: a frightened child in need of a protector. Then I had turned the tables, crashed over my enemies like waves on the shore of District 4.
I remember being sixteen years old and watching my barely-teenage brother fight brutally, fight well, in his own Games. Elsa had snuffed his life out like a candle. I had foolishly blamed her, a girl who had just wanted to live – without realising that I was just the same as Elsa. As a Victor, there had been so many things that had haunted me. Decisions I'd made, things I didn't have a choice in.
But I had a choice with Annie. I could choose to let her take my place and ease my own burden, or I could refuse to let her. I already knew what my choice would be. It wasn't hard. I wasn't about to let her become as messed up as me. Annie was already mentally delicate. The things that happened in the Capitol…if I could barely stomach them, how was Annie supposed to?
"Trust me on this, Annie. You help by talking to me, but the Capitol…it isn't a pleasant place."
But her suggestion of helping has given me a thought. Perhaps I won't let Annie save me from the horrors of the Capitol, but perhaps there's someone I can save myself. I rake a sandy hand through my dark hair. There's one Victor in District 4 who always has problems pulling his weight.
As always, Levi's house stinks of marijuana. I can understand why he wants to smoke the stuff, but the stench of it seems to permeate every corner. He really needs to air the place out or something, but I make no mention of it. After all, I want Levi's help, so why would I risk making him angry? He's flopped on the couch across from me, uncharacteristically without a joint.
"So? What does the lovely Elethea Ambrose want from me?"
Finnick heaves a sigh from the couch beside me. I'd dragged him along because he was involved in what I was planning, although he didn't know that yet. I know that Finnick has little patience for Levi, so of course I was likely going to have to play mediator if the two got into an argument, which I sincerely hoped they didn't. I twist my hands in my lap. Already Levi is sardonic, so what will he be like when I put forth my idea?
"You know that Finnick and I have been mentors for many years…"
"Everyone knows that," Levi's tone is impatient, "Listen, I'm not really in the mood for an epic tale, so if you could please get to the point, I'd really appreciate it."
I bite my lip. To the point it is. "I was wondering if, just for these Games, you might consider replacing Finnick as mentor."
Levi's eyes narrow and his gaze latches onto Finnick. I immediately realise I've done the wrong thing. Levi thinks the idea is Finnick's and that my lover is using me as a talking piece. I quickly rush to clarify, eyes darting between both men. They're tense, and I can tell my suggestion doesn't please Levi in the least.
"It was my idea, not his. In fact, Finnick didn't even know about it until right now."
"Thanks for the warning," Finnick says dryly, evidencing my point.
"Tell me, why should I alleviate Finnick's burden when I've done my time?" Levi folds his arms over his chest. His tone isn't aggressive yet, but there's a sharpness to it that I don't like. Levi has always been derisive, and if any of the Victors could still have a Career mentality prior to the Games, it would be him. Levi won his Games by cutting the other finalist in two, and to this day he remains as ruthless.
"It's not about doing your time, it's about sharing the load," I say, allowing impatience to colour my tone. I wouldn't have approached Reuben because he mentored for many years. The same can't be said for Levi. "Is that really so difficult for you?"
"Sharing the load." It sounds as though the very words amuse Levi, and he leans forward to look me in the eye. "Tell me, Elethea, have you lost your nerve? Is that what this is about? Your brother's death still…"
Levi mentioning Leon in that contemptuous way of his is too much. I jump up from the couch with a cry of rage and lunge at him, intending to punch him across his pointed, smug face. Finnick grabs me by the arms and holds me back, and Levi smirks as I struggle against him, infuriated.
"You're a wild one, aren't you?"
"You selfish son of a b…" Finnick clamps his hand over my mouth before I can finish my angry tirade.
"We understand." Finnick's tone is cold as ice. "Your answer is no. If that's your decision, fine. We won't press you into something you won't do. But just remember if you ever need our help, you won't be getting it."
Finnick's POV
It's late by the time I finish speaking to Rayne and head up to Elethea's room, where the dark-haired girl is already asleep. I sit down on the bed beside her, listening to her soft breathing, sweeping her black hair away from her face. She shifts, but doesn't wake up. I know that Elethea is a beautiful woman, for any man would be a fool if they didn't see that. But now when she's sleeping she looks – so young, so fragile. The fierce girl who tried to attack Levi earlier has faded away.
It saddens me to know that we can never have children together. The thought of Elethea as a mother, her being pregnant with my child…I never thought about it really, but now I'm miserable knowing that I can't ever have that, and it's the Capitol's fault, like everything else. She stirs, and I stroke her hair gently as I watch her slowly rouse from sleep. My heart is heavy with the news I'll have to break to her sooner or later. Elethea rubs her eyes and looks up at me.
"Finn? It's late."
"There's something I have to tell you." My sombre tone must catch her attention, because Elethea sits up, suddenly attentive. "It's…it's about Elsa."
Her green eyes widen. "What happened?"
"Elsa's dead." There is no point in trying to hide the truth. Elethea is on her feet in an instant, shoving the blankets aside and raking her hands through her hair. There's alarm written all over her face. I hope she doesn't think that Elsa was killed simply for stealing from Hyperion, and I immediately decide to soothe her fears. "She was more than just a thief, Elethea."
The dark-haired girl closes her eyes. Elsa killed her brother, but we both know it was out of a sheer desire to live. Now it looks as though that was in vain, because Elsa has lost her life anyway. No one told her that you don't take on the Capitol and win. No one told her that to be a revolutionary is to be a martyr. Elethea spins to face me, eyes snapping open. Her small hands clench into fists by her sides.
"So then what was she?"
I unfurl the piece of paper and show her then, the mark that Elsa drew on Snow's wall in either wine, or blood. Elethea presses her hands over her mouth, and I can see that she understands the significance of well. The bright red mockingjay. Katniss and Peeta, the two Victors who won the 74th Hunger Games. They had defied the Capitol, and now Elsa had too. But Elsa's treason was much more obviously deliberate than the so-called star-crossed lovers of District 12.
"What does this mean, Finnick?" When Elethea speaks, her voice is full of fear.
"It means," I reply slowly, carefully, "That a fire has started. God help us if we can't put it out."