Pieces Falling Into Place
Something in the darkness cracked, thumped and sighed. She tasted sleep on her tongue, sleep and medicine.
"Pandora?"
That voice. She knew it well. It was a voice that caused images to flash through her mind like a damaged film reel. A limping man, a piercing syringe, a warm smile. Over and over again these images flickered. Sometimes she could feel the needle at the back of her neck and in her brain, sometimes the smile turned into tears.
Her hand stretched out until she felt the wrinkled skin. "Viktor."
Her soft brown eyes opened. At first the doctor was a silhouette surrounded by blurred light, but slowly her vision cleared. She studied his aged face. He had more wrinkles.
"Why are you here?"
"What?"
"When did you get to District 6?"
It must be another dream, she quickly thought.
Before logic and reason set in Pandora felt relief and joy as she stared up at him, it had been a lifetime since they last spoke. Even after she come out of her coma they never really spoke. He couldn't even look at her. Always he seemed ashamed, guilty and even angry, but now Viktor Mironov was staring at her with those kind blue eyes. The best dreams are always the strangest.
She half-smirked and blinked her eyes. A feeling so inescapable was sweeping over her at that moment. Pandora felt changed, different. Her thoughts were unfocused and jumbled. Her family, District 7…it was all starting to make sense once more. That night in the alleyway after the crowning of two Victors, Marius's ghost had ignited a spark that was growing. The ice in her veins was melting, but it was still cold, she wasn't out of it yet. Honestly, Pandora didn't know if she would ever be.
She was still smirking when she peered back to Victor, and then his wrinkles deepened and she knew this was no dream. This was real. Her happiness dissolved. Dreams, memories, present, and past…sometimes it was hard to tell.
"Pandora, you're back in the Capitol."
"The Capitol?"
When she sat up her head spun. Her arm was hooked up to an IV. White hospital sheets rested over a small paper gown that felt scratchy against her body. Pandora remembered the storm, the mockingjay symbol, and most importantly she remembered the riot. A skeleton had tried to beat her into a bloody pulp with a brick. The rest was black.
"But the rest of us—"
"Are all back."
She creased her brow, "What?"
Mironov turned to a screen beside her bed and jotted down a few notes onto his clipboard. He always took notes. "After the riot the team was disbanded. Certain…officials said that would be enough for now. The team in District 11 wasn't so lucky. Rumor has it, or rather intel has it, that the civilians in that District are getting worse."
"Adric is—"
"Home," Pandora noticed Mironov's grip on his pen tighten, he was nervous. "He was very upset."
"He's always upset. Can you take this out of my arm?" She pointed to the IV and then without waiting she ripped it out and let it fall to the floor, "I don't need to be taken care of."
"You should eat something. You haven't had essential nutrients in a few days."
"Viktor…"
He wasn't looking at her.
"I'll have the nurse bring some food."
"What's the matter?"
He stopped writing. Past his glasses she could see apprehension in his gaze. For a moment the only sound in the room was the pen rolling between his thumb and index finger.
"The President is outside."
Her expression turned grave. How could I forget? She would never be free from him. His fangs were sunk so deep into her being that she sometimes forgot who really was in control. It wasn't her. It had never been her.
Mironov cleared his throat.
"I told him you needed to rest, but…he was persistent."
"I'd like to see Adric."
"Adric is with his fiancé. Three months is a long time to be separated from the woman you're to marry, after all."
She looked away, feeling her hands clasp the hospital sheets tightly. If Mironov noticed he didn't say, but Pandora knew he saw. Suddenly her cheeks flushed. Odd, Pandora thought. She was embarrassed, but somehow she knew she shouldn't be. I'm different, changed. The scar on her forearm suddenly burned.
"It would be wrong for me not to tell you that I ran some tests while you were healing," He scanned her face, "I was…most impressed."
"Oh?"
She could feel the weight of his words as he spoke, his smile was filled with understanding, "It would seem getting out of the Capitol suits you. Or perhaps it was Adric. Of course all those rebels could have fooled me. Whoever attacked you wasn't playing any games. If it hadn't been for the biological advancements the serum endowed you with you would have been a bag of broken bones."
Pandora awkwardly shifted, "Wouldn't be the first time that's happened, would it?"
"No, but hopefully the last."
When he turned to walk away she felt her heart jump. She parted her lips and sucked in a breath, "Viktor!"
He was just to the door, slowly the doctor turned his face to the side. Had it really been 5 years since they first met? I look like his daughter, she remembered, the one he lost.
"Did I pass the test this time?"
She could see his face darken, but not his eyes.
"You like to speak in riddles, don't you? Adric told me I didn't pass the first time. So tell me the truth….Please, Viktor. I need to know."
Mironov quietly looked to Pandora. His lips pressed together, softly transforming into a smile, "Riddles are useful here in the Capitol. You of all people should know that…but yes, Pandora."
"Yes what?"
"Yes."
Her palms were suddenly sweaty. A strange tingle formed at the back of her throat. "How can you know?"
"Your eyes."
She shook her head. "I don't remember everything, I don't remember feeling everything. Sometimes I forget how to be me."
"Maybe someday though."
"Do you think—"
"That'll be all for today, Pandora," he pressed a single finger against his lips and winked at her, "I'll send the President in."
The minute the door closed Pandora jumped out of the hospital bed. Her eyes landed on a robe hanging in the corner of the room. The paper dress crinkled and cracked as she pulled it on and tied it closed. Beneath her feet the marble floor was like ice. She poured herself a glass of water and nursed it in front of a recently polished mirror. Her reflection surprised her. It was as if she had been asleep for months now and only just awakened. Had it been a slow transition or had she simply jolted into consciousness?
Your eyes, she heard Mironov say once more. To her they looked the same, but then again there was something in the tawny brown pools that even she hadn't realized at first glance. A glimmer. A glow. She felt different, but the difference was familiar, it was…
"It's impolite to admire your own beauty."
Snow. He had been so quiet that she hadn't heard him enter. She spun on her heels and straightened her back.
"Miss Sullivan," he bowed. His signature white rose was primly placed on the lapel of his suit. His swollen lips transformed into a smile.
"President," she returned the bow.
"It's been far too long. I hear tales about you, tales of bravery."
"I wouldn't believe everything you hear."
His smile grew, "Put on your clothing. I'd like to go on a walk."
"I don't have any clothing."
Without speaking he gestured towards a door Pandora hadn't noticed before. She eyed it before looking back to him. "By all means take your time," he whispered, "But I'm afraid I have a train to catch within the hour, so don't be too long."
Her feet pattered against the marble. She could feel Snow's eyes boring into the back of her head. Her chest felt like a tangle of knots. The door opened by itself and quickly slid shut once she was inside. The moment the room sensed her movement a light turned on and she saw what Snow had gestured towards. Hanging from a hook was a green wool dress, a black coat, and shoes. It felt strange to wear a dress after so long. It was uncomfortable and tight. The coat's funneled collar went past her chin as she fastened each button and stepped into the pair of black heels.
They walked through the infirmary and out into the street without exchanging a word or a look. A photographer snapped her picture and in response she pulled her collar tighter. District 6 was a less than desirable place to be for the past few months but at least there were no cameras there to document her every move. In the car Pandora was uncomfortably aware of Snow's scent. His cold eyes scanned the passing scenery.
"Where are we going?" She finally asked.
"I told you, I have a train to catch."
"To where?"
"District 12."
She tried to hide her surprise but Snow saw it plain on her face.
"I have matters to settle with that little girl."
"Katniss Everdeen."
"Yes. That one."
She dropped her eyes and swallowed, "And what do you want with me?"
He reached out and placed a single hand on her knee. A few months ago Pandora would have never noticed the gesture but now she did. Her gaze shifted to his hand. She imagined herself breaking it over and over again. That emotion and urge was overwhelming. It hit her like a ton of bricks. She realized then that she hated being so close to Snow, she hated looking at him.
"I need you do something for me," he paused. "They caught rebels on the outskirts of the Capitol. We've tried questioning them but nothing has come of it."
"And you want me to see if I can get answers, forgive me but I don't think I could change their minds."
"No. I want you to kill them."
This time she was prepared to cloak her shock but it didn't soften the blow. "Why me?"
"As I recall you're very good at executing rebels."
She remembered a glowing brander reflected in a pair of glasses and felt her mouth go dry. Nyx, a voice whispered making her head thump in agony.
"They had a little boy, Pandora. They were going to string up a boy no older than one of your brothers just because he was from the Capitol. They deserve to die."
Brothers, she thought, I have brothers. August. Dash. It was getting easier and easier to forget about them. She hadn't seen their faces in almost 6 years. August would be a grown man by now. Dash a young man. Although Pandora could notice Snow's manipulative techniques a mile away it didn't change how effective it was.
"How old was the boy?"
"11."
Her lips pursed.
"Before peacekeepers were able to get there they had slaughtered his mother….his father, everyone."
"All the same, I don't think I am qualified for such a task."
"I want you to do it," He slipped his hand away and unlocked a metal case that had been resting at his feet. The hinges screamed as it opened. Pandora watched as Snow pulled out a thin stack of photographs and gently placed them on her lap. The first was of a woman, obviously a Capitolite, wide-eyed in dead. The rebels had nailed her body to a tree. "Sadly, there's more where that came from."
She flipped to the next and regretted it instantly. A man with curly blonde hair had a twisted jaw and swollen face. And then came the photographs of the child. He was young, but it was hard to tell through the injuries he had gathered. A giant slice of red ran down the whole of his face, inflamed and weeping. He had bruises all over his face and body, and there was obvious damage to the ribs—multiple fractures, a few breaks in the bone. She continued to shift through the pictures, one after the other.
"I'm not an executioner," She whispered. Given different circumstances she could have fallen in with the rebels.
"Does that mean you don't want to?"
Her eyes met his. For a moment there was silence. The edges of photographs felt like they were cutting into her skin, she was gripping them so tightly she couldn't feel her fingers anymore. "11," she repeated the little boy's age.
Snow nodded.
Pandora closed her eyes. "When do you want the execution done?"
He grabbed the photographs away from her and locked the metal case again. A smirk tugged on his lips. "As soon as possible. Not tonight though, you're being honored for your bravery defending Panem at a party with the rest of the deployed team. Tomorrow. Yes, tomorrow."
She leaned her head against the leather seat and sighed, "I'll do it."
Snow stared for a split second before turning his smirk into a grin. He was obviously pleased. "Thank you, Pandora. I knew you'd understand. A pity how some men turn into such monsters."
Her gaze stayed on the President's face. He was watching her intently, joyfully. "A pity indeed."
They were nearing the station. Pandora could hear the train whistle as they rounded the corner. Snow adjusted his leather gloves and licked at his swollen lips. She could tell he was about to speak. She could see it in the slight curve of his mouth.
"Finnick Odair was in the Capitol while you were in District 6."
She thought of her dream and corner eyed Snow. At this point nothing should have surprised Pandora, but it did.
"What a handsome man he turned out to be. I hear many girls would agree."
"Oh?" was all she said.
"They say girls love him and he loves them back."
He doesn't love any of them though, she thought, he only loves one girl. Annie. The name was so easy to remember now. Annie Cresta.
She stared at Snow.
"You've been so good, I thought that—if you wanted—I could arrange a meeting between you two."
That was a low blow. Her lips tensed. "How kind of you to think of me."
"I always think of my friends, my dear."
"Perhaps you should have a meeting with him, since you find him so handsome."
A sudden laugh bubbled from Snow like a pot of poison. He threw back his head and adjusted his delicate rose before remembering how to breathe. It was a laugh that rattled the entire car.
"It saddens me to see you so apathetic to Mr. Odair. You two were so close."
Pandora couldn't help but smile. Sad was the last thing President Snow was. "Not close enough unfortunately. All things come to end."
"So true, my dear, so very true."
"Of course if this rebellion doesn't end soon—"
"I wouldn't worry about that," a quieter laugh erupted from his lips, "I'm remedying that situation. A happy Hunger Games this will be. And a Quarter Quell at that."
Pandora furrowed her brow. "What do you mean?"
"Here we are!" The driver suddenly yelled, bolting out of his seat to get the door.
President Snow smiled at the question. His eyes were full of tricks and deceit, but without reply he rubbed his gloved hands together and feigned a shiver. "Winter's almost over but this place is still chilly. Do stay warm, Pandora. As you know the nights can get icy. My driver will take you back home. I'll be seeing you very soon, my dear."
She stared with wide eyes as he slammed the door shut and walked off towards the station escorted by a caravan of people. Her hand pressed against the glass, her breath fogged it up. There was no press to document the President's excursion to District 12, no photographs would be taken, no headlines would be made. She knew Snow wanted it that way. He would slither into that girl's house and spread his venom just as he'd done to Pandora.
Over and over again she tried to decipher Snow's words. The Quarter Quell. What does the Quarter Quell have to do with the rebellion? It didn't make sense. None of it did.
That night Pandora Sullivan stood on a marble stage with the rest of the team that ventured into District 6. A gold medal was pinned to her heart and champagne bottles were popped in honor of the great bravery each soldier showed in the face of rebellion. Silently she wondered if they believed their own words, if they truly thought what they had done was brave. She wondered if they knew that their President was on his way to District 12 to shake down a 17-year-old girl with a bow and arrow.
Adric didn't dare a glance her way the entire night. He was angry with her for fighting in the riot, Pandora knew, and even if he hadn't been Lilas was to his side the whole night. Her long red hair and revealing outfit made Pandora clench her jaw. The longer she stared at them the more suffocated she felt. Finally she grabbed a glass of champagne and slipped past the crowds, out onto a balcony. White flowers were beginning to bloom from the glossy ivy. Goosebumps rose all over her skin as she touched the railing and peered out across the lights. It was a much better sight to behold than District 6. The air in the Capitol was crisp and refreshing. The people frivolous and bubbly.
"It's a little cold to be out here isn't it?"
Pandora jumped in surprise. Standing in the shadows was a man with a grey suit and bright eyes. He had been there the entire time it seemed.
"Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. But it is cold."
"Speak for yourself. The party's inside."
The man glanced back to the banter and laughs, "Yes, but too much of a party gives me too much of a headache."
She silently looked away.
"Of course you've seen much colder nights, no? Your arena was a cityscape wasn't it? With snow?"
"Yes," She took a sip of her drink, remembering Scorch's bleeding eyes. "There was snow."
"Wonderful set up that was. Artorius Flemming was a master. Though I do have to say at first it was a little bit shaky. He salvaged it all with the finale. One of the best in Hunger Games history I'd wager. It is an honor to meet you, Miss Sullivan. You've been named one of the most memorable and loved Victors of the Hunger Games, did you know that? Not an easy thing to achieve."
They shook hands.
"You seem to know a lot about the Games."
"All part of the trade, I suppose."
She eyed him, "You look familiar."
"Do I?" He smiled and pulled out his pocket watch to check the time. "Tick tock," he whispered to himself. "Everyone always forgets the artistry of clocks."
She barely heard him. "Have we met?"
"Hm?" His bright eyes lifted to her face.
She scrutinized him. "It's nothing…I…nothing…"
"Well don't be shy, I'm sure there's a perfectly good reason I look familiar to you."
"You'd be surprise how wrong you are," Every face confused Pandora as of late, everyone looked strangely familiar.
"I doubt that."
She lowered her glass. In reply the man simply smiled. They stood that way for a long while. His face was so curiously familiar that she couldn't shake it. For some reason it took her back to the training room before her Hunger Game.
"Who—"
"There you are!"
Suddenly, from behind, Kol Flemming appeared at the doors and let out an exaggerated shiver, "What in the hell are you doing out here, Pandora? Oh—" he peered to the man and bowed head, "Hello."
"I was just getting fresh air," she quickly explained, "I didn't know you were here, Kol."
"I always show up late. The later I arrive the drunker the party is."
"Mr. Flemming, I see you haven't changed a bit. Nice to see you again." The man extended his hand and Kol took it.
"Thank you, sir. Very nice to see you too. Pandora, I didn't realize you two had met."
"Oh we hadn't." The man smiled. "Very impolite of me now that I think of it…" Pandora inched away as he offered his hand once more and turned his smile into an odd grin, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Sullivan. My name is Plutarch Heavensbee."
