A/N: I know it's been wayyy too long! I'll spare y'all the reasons why I haven't updated. Just know that it isn't out of the animosity in my heart. I PROMISE I'll finish this story. There's probably one (maybe two) chapter(s) left, plus an epilogue. Please review any ideas you would like me to incorporate into the epilogue. It will be lighter and fluffier than the rest of the story. If you are stumbling upon this story for the first time today, maybe read it from the start since the resolution should come soon :)
"You have a visitor."
Emily didn't move. She hadn't so much as twitched since she'd woken up earlier, lying in a bed under layers of satin sheets. Several tubes were connected to her arms. Whatever flowed through them made her drowsy. At first, she'd welcomed the dreamlike feeling it brought. Everything was unclear and she felt completely detached, like she was only a spectator to all that was happening to her.
But the dosage was decreasing by the hour. Her body was healing. She'd first noticed it when the smallest scrapes and blisters on her arms disappeared. With the exception of the gash in her side, her skin was smooth and glowing. The gnawing pain of hunger she'd grown accustomed to in the arena was gone completely. Her thoughts were sharper, too, for better or worse. Mostly worse.
If her thoughts weren't as clear, she might have been able to ignore the nurse informing her of the visitor. She wouldn't feel a sharp twist of pain in her chest when she saw Jason DiLaurentis standing in the doorway, looking so similar to yet so different from the girl she'd lost.
"I'll be back in a few minutes to check your vitals," the nurse said. She left the room, shutting the door behind her.
Emily forced herself to sit up and face the young man standing across the room.
"It's crazy how fast they can put tributes back together, isn't it? On the outside, at least," Jason said. Emily cast her eyes down and nodded. He didn't have to explain for her to understand what he meant. The doctors could remove every imperfection from her skin, make her look presentable, but they could never fix the psychological damage the Games had done.
It had been five years since Jason was in the position she was, and he still wasn't put together. Not even on the outside. He looked ten times worse than he did the night of the interviews. Dark circles framed his bloodshot eyes. By the looks of it, he hadn't slept in weeks.
Grief could do that to a person.
"I'm sorry I couldn't protect her," Emily said, surprised when she got the words out without choking over them.
"You did all you could," Jason said with a sigh. He sunk into a chair in the corner of the room and brought his hands to his temple. "Alison was always stubborn. She was never one to let herself be saved."
Emily shook her head. "If I wouldn't have left her, maybe-"
"No," Jason cut off. "It wouldn't have made a difference. Ali already had her mind made up."
Unshed tears filled the brunette's eyes. "What do you mean by that?"
Jason eye's bounced around the room, seeming to search for something hidden in plain white walls. His voice was low and wary. "I could never figure out exactly how my sister's mind worked, but she never did anything without a reason. I keep forgetting that you didn't see everything that happened."
Emily swallowed a lump in her throat and waited silently for him to continue. Before Alison told her they needed to split up, she could almost see the gears spinning in her brain. Her thoughts were full of plans she was unwilling to share.
"After you left, she paced around by those flowers for hours. Then when the birds came and everyone was herded to the middle of the arena, she picked a handful of them and took off running. She knew they were poisonous. Everyone is saying that was her way of sacrificing herself, but I'm not so sure."
"What do you think she was planning?" Emily asked, though she couldn't decide whether she even wanted the answer.
"I don't know," Jason said with a shrug. He stared at the wall on the other side of the room. "I thought, maybe she was trying to use the flowers as a weapon to take down the girl from one, but that doesn't make much sense. Like I said, I could never figure her out. Honestly, you seemed to understand her a lot better than I ever did."
"I wouldn't say that," Emily commented, blinking away tears that were in danger of spilling over. "I don't know what she was thinking, either. Ali might be outgoing, but she's actually a really private person," she added, only noticing after the words were out that she was still referring to Alison in the present tense.
Jason's eyes flashed to hers for a few brief seconds. "Yeah, but she trusted you more than she's ever trusted anyone. I saw the way she looked at you, even before the Games started. If she didn't tell you, there was a good reason for it."
Emily stared down at her hands, watching as a teardrop fell on one of them. There had to be a polite way to tell Jason she didn't want to talk about Alison. Talking wouldn't change anything. It wouldn't bring them back in time and stop the cannon from going off.
"I guess," she settled on saying as she fidgeted under the sheets. "I don't know."
The tension in the room was suffocating. The machine beside Emily beeped, signaling a change in either her blood pressure or heart rate.
"Are you okay?" Jason asked, looking at the machine.
"Yeah. Yeah, it's fine," Emily responded. "I just…miss her. A lot. Talking about what happened is stressing me out."
"I get it. Sorry," Jason said as he pulled himself up from his seat. He was halfway out the door when he turned around and added, "I miss her, too. I guess I just wanted answers."
Emily managed a half-hearted nod. "You're like her. She always needed an explanation," she said, but Alison's brother was gone by the time the words were out.
She slumped into her pillow, determined to summon more peaceful thoughts. Soon she would be home in district four. Her family would be ecstatic to see her. After next year, her friends would be safe from the reaping and they could skip rocks at their spot on the beach every year without having to fear that it would be the last time they would all be together.
The beach would be there, waiting for her. She used to love to swim against the waves. It was something she'd missed about home, until the final fight of the Hunger Games. After what had happened to Mona in the lake, Emily wasn't sure she would ever be able to swim again without the memory haunting her.
Life would never be like it was before, no matter how many years would pass. But she had to stay positive. She had to try. Alison would've wanted her to try, right? Especially if what the Capitol was saying was true and she sacrificed her own life to let Emily win.
If that was what happened. No matter how much it hurt to think about, keeping those final hours off her mind would always turn out to be a losing battle. Emily rolled over in her bed, careful not to mess up the medical equipment, and finally let herself get lost in thoughts she'd desperately tried to avoid.
It took practice. It wasn't pleasant, but Alison was finally able to force her limbs to move. She started by twitching her fingers, then her wrists. Soon she was able to shift her legs.
With her future shrouded in uncertainty, all she could focus on was undoing the damage the war hemlock had caused. Regaining motion was priority number one. Alison couldn't stand not being in control of her own body. She felt about as useless as an infant.
The whole time, she kept her eyes fixated on the ceiling. That was another rule; don't look at the bodies. Once she'd regained consciousness and memories came flooding back, she was able to recognize the boy from seven.
The girl was harder to identify. Something horrific had happened to her, resulting in a drastic change in appearance. Alison's stomach churned the second she first looked at the corpse, but she couldn't tear her eyes away until the girl's small features made her positive it was Mona.
Which meant Emily was still alive. Emily had won. Right now, that knowledge was the only thing giving Alison solace.
That didn't mean she wasn't still worried about the girl. She was worried for Emily just as much as she was worried for her own life. Alison may have cheated her way out of the arena, but the Hunger Games weren't over yet. She still needed to find a way out of this place.
The room she was in was too quiet. It was a different type of quiet than her house, where there was always a soft hum of a background noise, even when it was early in the morning and everyone else was asleep. This was silence, but it was surprisingly loud.
The ringing in her ears had become so familiar that Alison was startled when an actual sound echoed from outside the metallic sliding doors. Footsteps.
The urge to run ripped through her half-paralyzed body. Instinctively, she tried to jump to her feet, only to end up collapsing and hitting her chin against the tile floor. She groaned and rolled over on her side as the doors slid open.
"Oh God!" screamed a voice that could only belong to a teenage boy.
The doors were forced shut before Alison could even look up. The person who had walked in was babbling incoherently on the other side, completely taken off guard by the unexpected surprise. Other footsteps followed. More voices, but the boy's was the loudest.
"OhGodOhGod. She's alive. She was moving, I swear! I know what I saw. It was Alison-"
"That's impossible," another voice interrupted. This one was deeper and gruff. "We don't pick up tributes until the trackers signal their heartbeat has ceased."
Another voice. "I know you're new here, kid, and you've never seen a dead body in person. It's unsettling, but that's all it is. A dead body. It won't jump out and attack you," the man said, chuckling at the idea.
"I wouldn't be scared if I didn't see one roll over when I walked in there! Go see for yourself!"
"I'll be the judge of this," the older-sounding, gruff voice announced.
Alison struggled to pull herself up from the floor. She was sinking into the same mode of panic she'd experienced in the arena. Only this time, each rapid breath and leap of her heart hurt.
There wasn't time to run and it was impossible for her to even walk. She did the best she could in the limited time frame by using her arms to drag her body to a nearby wall so that she could prop herself up in a sitting position.
The doors slid open again.
The old man did not scream. His pride was probably too big for that reaction, but shock was written all over his face nonetheless. All it took was one look at her to make his eyes bulge. He took an automatic step back, holding onto the sides of the door for support.
He was speechless. As terrified as Alison was, she was pleased that she was able to rattle him. She may have been weak, but she wasn't completely powerless.
"I take it nothing like this has ever happened before," Alison said, her voice coming out hoarse. She might have smiled for effect if she were able to manage it.
"You've been alive this whole time? How is that possible?" the man asked, mouth still gaping. He blinked his eyes rapidly, probably half-expecting the scene in front of him to disappear. A brown-haired, middle-aged man and the boy appeared behind him in the doorway. Ali could see now that the boy was even younger than she was. Fourteen, tops.
"It looks like someone made a mistake," Alison said. She watched carefully for a response.
"What happens now?" the boy asked. "Are they going to kill her?"
Those words made Alison freeze. The hammering in her chest was almost unbearable. For a moment, she'd thought she could negotiate her way out of this. Now she remembered she was dealing with Capitolites. A bunch of colorful freaks who had no apparent respect for life. If they had a heart, they wouldn't have thrown her into the Games. Why would they care about her life now?
"If the president finds out there was a mistake…" the middle-aged man trailed off.
"No one is going to find out!" the older man insisted.
"Then what happens to me?" Alison cut in. Her voice was weaker now than before. She felt completely unraveled. Her confidence was shattered and the only thing left underneath was fear.
The three only offered her silence in response.
Ali tried to keep herself from slumping. Tears pricked at her eyes. She contemplated whether she should keep a straight face or go for the pity angle by letting herself completely break down. It wasn't an Alison thing to do. Or maybe it was. She wasn't quite sure who she was anymore.
But once the first tear slipped from her eye, she remembered how much she hated looking helpless.
"You can't kill me," she tried to argue, ignoring the tears that slid down her cheek. "The Games are over. I bet the public would rather me alive than to find out that I was killed after the Hunger Games already ended because of a mistake you made." She paused to stop her voice from shaking. "You already screwed up. Going behind the president's back will only dig you deeper in the hole. Cameras are everywhere, you know."
She watched as the men looked to a spot on the ceiling. The camera part had been a bluff, but their reactions indicated it was true.
"She has a point," the boy admitted.
"Galen," the old man said, pointing at the boy, "You stay here and keep an eye on the girl. We're stopping the hovercraft for repairs until we can get this situation sorted out."
"Uh, okay," the boy, Galen, agreed, though he didn't sound particularly happy. Once the two older men exited the room, he stood near the door and watched Alison with cautious eyes.
At first it was funny how terrified he looked, as if Alison could even hurt him in her current condition. But it didn't take long for Ali's amusement to fade back into fear and discomfort. She couldn't question the kid about what would happen to her; he obviously had no answers.
There was one other person she was desperate to hear about.
"Is Emily okay?" Alison asked.
"She's alive. She won," Galen answered.
"I know. That doesn't answer my question." The boy stared at her, showing no signs of comprehension. Alison frowned and rephrased her request. "I want to know how she's doing. You know, her health. Her mental state of mind. Is she okay?"
"Oh, um…I haven't watched the news since this morning. You can check, if you want," he said. He stepped across the room in awkward, sideways motions, making sure to keep his eyes on the blonde at all times. A large monitor dominated the right side of the room. He pressed the tip of his finger to it and the screen flashed to life.
A blue-haired reporter filled the frame. Alison could see the training center in the background. Words scrolled along the bottom of the screen.
No new developments at this time. The victor is currently undergoing treatment for injuries. Her first post-Games appearance is predicted to occur in three days. Stay tuned for more updates.
Nothing. Nothing about how Emily was doing. Was she even awake yet? Was she lying in bed, scared and shaking, or breathing a sigh of relief that the nightmare was over?
Alison wondered if she crossed Emily's mind. If anything, she was probably mad at her. Their last exchange hadn't been a good one.
As if in tune with her thoughts, the image of the reporter on screen changed to a recap of the exact event. Alison cringed as she watched herself basically tell the other girl to get lost. Guilt swirled in her stomach when she saw how wrecked Emily's expression was as she walked away.
It was strange seeing it played back. Alison couldn't help but be shocked at how awful she looked. The girl on the screen wasn't the reflection she'd seen in the mirror every day for seventeen years. This girl was stick-skinny in an unhealthy way, ribs showing and all. Her blonde hair was tangled and matted. Bruises and cuts and dirt decorated her skin.
She could hardy recognize herself, yet the girl was definitely her. Everything happening on screen was a memory locked inside her brain. After showing the two of them splitting up, the broadcast became some sort of montage of her and Emily, zooming in on every kiss and gentle touch. The reporter constantly added her own commentary, gushing about how unpredictable the romance had been and how tragic the ending was.
It was torture to watch, but Alison couldn't tear her eyes away. She slumped further against the wall and struggled to swallow the lump in her throat.
"That's all that's been on TV for, like, almost two weeks. People are obsessed with you guys," Galen announced. Alison had all but forgotten he was even there.
"You must miss her," he said. When Alison didn't respond, he ran a hand through his hair and added, "I know how you feel. I've been on this hovercraft with my uncle for weeks now. I haven't even gotten to go home and see my girlfriend."
"That's hardly the same situation," Alison snapped. The kid was clueless and she knew he meant well, but she couldn't put up with the idiocy right now. Not when her life was in shambles.
"Sorry," he said quickly, sounding abashed. "Do you…want some food or something? You don't look too good."
"I don't need your help. You people are probably going to kill me, anyway, so what's the point?" Alison said. She let out a bitter laugh that ended up dangerously close to a sob.
"But I want to help. I really doubt they're going to kill you. The captain is pretty strict, but he wouldn't do that. They're going to talk to the government to see what to do."
As much as she didn't want to, Alison felt herself soften the slightest bit at the boy's optimism. He might be ignorant and oblivious, but he still had a hint of childhood innocence left in him. He hadn't been corrupted yet.
"You don't get it, kid. It's the government I'm worried about. They can only have one victor. Everyone else is fine with their television tragedy," she sighed.
"I bet Emily isn't," Galen said. "And anyway, the rest of them are only fine with it now because they think you died in the arena. People were flipping out for hours after your cannon went off. If they knew you were alive, the media would explode. They'd probably riot if someone even suggested letting you die."
Alison considered his words. "They were really that invested in what happened to us?" she questioned.
"Yeah, pretty much. Nothing like that has really happened before. I guess people get tired of the same show every year."
"Interesting," Alison noted. She stared at the footage on screen, deep in thought.
All her life, Alison had been a fan of tragedies. There was something devastatingly beautiful about lost love or a mysterious disappearance. Bad situations made for good, juicy stories. Now she realized tragedies aren't all that enticing when you are in the middle of one.
What she needed wasn't going to be found in the midst of uncertainty and darkness. She needed a ray of hope; someone who could take her by the hand and chase away the fear that everything would be lost in the blink of an eye. Warmth. Security. A sunlit path to lead her home.
For the first time, she understood the allure of a happy ending. Happiness would always be valued over misfortune, just as light would always chase away darkness. That's what she needed: light.
"I need to talk to Emily," Alison said. "She's the only one who can fix this."
"You might be able to talk to her after they consult the president," Galen responded.
"No, I need to talk to her before they do that. Is there a way to contact her? Can't you make calls with that computer thing?"
"Well, I could probably look up the number of the training center hospital, but I'm not supposed to use it…" the boy said, appearing conflicted.
"You have to. The only thing the public will like more than a tragedy is a happy ending, but first they need hope. They have to know I'm not dead, and I want Emily to hear it first," Alison insisted. "Just do it. Please. You're too young for them to seriously punish you."
Galen still looked unconvinced. Alison grimaced at him when as the seconds ticked by. Finally, with a big sigh, he relented. "Okay, I'll help you."
Alison offered him a tiny smile of approval. As the boy fumbled around with codes on the monitor, Ali tried to keep away the nerves that were building up again. She had no idea what to say to Emily. Aside from that, it was getting hard to ignore how sick and lightheaded she felt.
"It's dialing," Galen told her. "The hospital policy blocks video calls, but we'll be able to hear the audio. It will be like talking on speaker phone."
As with most things dealing with Capitol technology, all of the terminology flew over Alison's head. She waited impatiently for a voice to answer. When one did, echoing a quiet "hello, how may I help you?" through the room, Galen was quick to respond.
"Hello, this is…uh…"
"This is Vivian Darkbloom," Alison took over, speaking the first words that came to enunciated the syllables so that the words came out in a Capitol accent. "I'm calling on behalf of the president. I was given orders to speak to the victor."
"Vivian Darkbloom?" the secretary parroted. "I'm not familiar with that name. Could you please verify yourself?"
"You haven't heard of my name?" Alison scoffed. "Have you been living under a rock? The fire at Darkbloom Estates was national news." She might have enjoyed playing around with this stranger if she weren't so nervous. Her fate was totally reliant upon her bullshitting skills.
The woman on the other end seemed to buy it. "Oh. Oh, Darkbloom! Yes, that name does sound familiar, now that you mention it," she said to cover her embarrassment. In the Capitol, being behind on the social scene was practically a felony.
"Good, I would hope you've heard of it," Ali continued. "I've assumed my grandfather's position as a political tie with the president, which puts me in charge of communicating with the victor. I would share the details, but unfortunately they are confidential."
"Of course. I understand. I'll connect you in just a moment."
There was shuffling on the other side of the line. "You have a call from Ms. Darkbloom. Let me know when you're done, dear," the secretary told someone. It had to be Emily.
"Hello?" Emily's tentative voice echoed in the room. For a minute, Ali couldn't remember how to speak.
"Ms. Darkbloom?" Emily asked when there was no response. "As in Vivian Darkbloom?" The last words came out in a voice barely above a whisper.
Alison remembered conjuring up the name Vivian Darkbloom when she was in the ballroom with Emily. The memory seemed so distant, but apparently Emily remembered.
"Hello, Em," Ali was finally able to say.
She counted her breaths as she waited for Emily's response. When she did speak, it wasn't what Alison wanted to hear.
"Is this some kind of joke? It's not funny."
"It's not a joke," Alison assured her. "I'm alive but I'm not safe. I need your help."
"That's impossible. You were dead. I-I heard your cannon go off." Emily took it a deep, shaky breath, and Alison knew she was close to tears. "If you are alive, you have to explain because I don't understand."
"Shhh, don't cry," Alison said out of instinct. "I'm not dead, but I think my heart stopped for a couple of minutes in the arena. I grabbed some of those flowers and I lost consciousness. I woke up in a hovercraft. That's where I am now," she sighed. "Look, I'll explain better later, but right now I need you to listen to me."
It was quiet as Emily contemplated the information.
"That's a lot to take in," Emily said, "and I'm not sure why I'm believing this, but I do. I believe you, Alison. I'm listening. Please tell me you're okay."
The blonde paused, debating whether to tell Emily about the weight on her chest and the fact that she could barely move, much less walk or run. She didn't want to worry her further, so she said, "I'm fine, really. But I won't be for much longer if you don't help me. I need the public to know I'm alive. I'm watching the live broadcast and I see a blue-haired reporter right outside the training center. Do you think you can walk there?"
"Yeah, of course. I just need to get these tubes off my arm," Emily said, reminding Alison that she was still in a hospital bed.
"Are you sure you can walk?" Ali asked hesitantly.
"Yeah, it's just… It's fine. Just a little sore. I'm out of bed and getting a robe," Emily told her. "I hope no one sees me. What exit is the reporter by? The ballroom?"
"Yes. The ballroom. You have to take the elevator to the mystery floor. Be careful, Em. There's rough people down there." Alison thought back to the men they had encountered on the first day of training. Those grimy, disgusting creeps would no doubt try to take advantage of Emily if they saw her all alone.
Even with intermittent updates from Emily, the minutes seemed to drag on endlessly. Galen watched Alison with concern as she clenched her eyes shut and leaned her head back against the wall. All she could think about now were the sponsors in the ballroom who spent their money buying victors. If one of them dared lay a hand on Em…
"Everything okay?" Ali asked Emily for what was probably the ninth time since she left the hospital room.
"I'm practically hiding under a table right now," Emily answered. Before the blonde could ask her what she was talking about, she explained, "I'm trying not to be seen. I'm so close, Ali. I just have to cross the last twenty feet in the open."
Almost immediately after, Alison head a sharp increase in noise on the other end of the line. People were shouting. Ali could only assume they were going after Emily. It killed her that she couldn't see what was going on.
She was two seconds from losing it completely when Galen shouted something and pointed to the scene on the television monitor. People were flooding out of the training center. Even the reporter was bewildered as cameramen searched for the source of the outbreak.
After a minute, the cameras settled on a tan-skinned girl, barefoot and wrapped in a white robe. A small phone was held against her ear. It couldn't have been that long since the Games ended, but Emily already looked so different; so much healthier than she had during those last hours in the arena.
A sea of people surrounded her. A few were much too touchy for Alison's liking, but Emily barely flinched when they grabbed at her. She simply brushed them off and kept moving closer to the camera. Closer to the reporter.
"You made it," Ali said, feeling her heart swell. On screen, she saw Emily nod at her words.
Then the reporter was suddenly in her space, bombarding her with questions. "It looks like the victor has made her way out of the building." She shoved the microphone in Em's face. "Emily Fields, we're all wondering what you're doing here. We heard you would be resting for the next few days! Did you get released early? Are the nurses aware that you are out here?"
"I'm out here because I have a very important message to give all of you. I'm on the phone with Alison. She's alive!" Emily told her.
The reporter stuck her bottom lip out in a sympathetic pout as a chuckle swept through part of the audience. They didn't believe her.
"I'm so sorry to tell you this, but Alison died in the arena. Believe me, we all feel the pain of your loss," the reporter babbled.
"No, I mean she's actually alive!" Emily said again. She furrowed her eyebrows and tried to think of a way to make the story more believable. "Ali, what hovercraft are you on? Is there a number?" she asked into the phone.
Alison scanned the room in a hurry. Above the monitor was an engraved number and a set of letters. "H-1685, I think," Ali answered.
Emily repeated the number to the crowd. Some woman snatched the phone out of her hand.
"Is this really Alison DiLaurentis?"
"Yes, it is," Alison said, irritated. "Now stop being a bitch and give the phone back to Emily."
On screen, Emily reached over and grabbed the phone back from out of the woman's hands. The woman started screaming that she'd spoken to Alison and all hell broke loose.
Amidst the chaos, the reporter pulled Emily aside and asked her to explain.
"I don't know how it happened, but somehow there was a mistake. Alison is alive and in the hovercraft. We have to spread the word so someone can save her. Please, get her out of there. Don't let her die. The Games are over. We've been through so much already. Just let us live," Emily said, speaking so fast that her words started slurring together. She stopped to breathe and then looked at the camera again with tear-filled eyes.
"All I ask is that she stays safe. I'm in love with her. I already thought I lost her once. Don't you dare take her away from me again."
The reporter turned to the camera and started talking a mile a minute about the apparent twist of fate. Alison could barely pay attention. One specific part of what Emily said completely captured her attention.
I'm in love with her.
Alison knew Emily liked her, and she knew the feeling was mutual, but somehow those words put a new spin on everything. Electricity flashed through her, reaching even her fingertips, and she wanted nothing more than to have her arms around Emily at this moment and to never let go.
Ali had never been in love. She never even knew it was a feeling she'd craved. She didn't understand how it was supposed to work or how she could care about one person so much, but there was something she was suddenly compelled to tell the brunette.
"Emily, are you still there?" she asked.
Even though the brunette was nearly buried in the crowd, Ali could see Emily clutch the phone close to her ear. "Ali?"
"Thank you for doing that. No matter what happens, I want you to know I lo-"
The phone wasn't in Emily's hand anymore. It fell to the ground as a guard grabbed her from behind. Emily struggled against him until another peacekeeper showed up to escort her back to the building. Dozens more white-clad men showed up to put an end to the chaos brewing on the street.
"What are they going to do to her? They can't hurt her, right?" Alison almost screeched at Galen, who only stared at the screen with wide eyes.
An alarm went off, so sudden and piercing that covering her ears offered Alison no relief. The doors slid open once again, and the old man- the captain of the hovercraft- appeared in the doorway.
"What did you do?" he demanded. Ali though he was addressing her until he grabbed the collar of Galen's shirt and shoved him against the wall. Mustering all her strength, Alison pulled herself up to stand up on weak, wobbling legs. She had to do something. Anything.
The middle-aged man burst into the door and beat her to it. "Don't touch my nephew!" he said, shoving the captain away from the boy.
The old man's face turned a bright shade of red. Ignoring the other man, he pointed a finger at Alison. "They're coming for you now! You'd better pray they let you live. Hell, you'd better pray they let me live after the uproar you've caused! You're lucky I was ordered not to touch you!"
There was nothing to say to that. She wanted to scream how it wasn't her fault. None of this was her fault. She was just a girl who'd gotten drawn at the reaping because the Capitol had a sick fascination with siblings of previous victors.
But they wouldn't understand, anyway.
No one was allowed to lay a finger on her. Alison slumped back against the wall and waited until the peacekeepers came and grabbed her by the arms. When they saw she could hardly stand, one threw her over his shoulder in a quick, rough motion. After what Emily had told her about her father, Ali tried not to think of peacekeepers as the enemy. She tried, but she couldn't see them as human right now. They were the Capitol's worker bees.
"Where am I going?" she asked once she'd worked up the nerve to question him.
"You and your girlfriend are going have a little chat with the president. He'll decide what to do with you."
All Alison could do was wait for what would come next.
A/N: Hmm, what to say here... I kind of picture the Capitol being like obsessed fans so it's no shock that they shipped the first sign of romance in the Hunger Games. Next will be the meeting and other post-Games events, going home, etc. Then the epilogue. I hope y'all liked this despite the wait.