A/N: Updated 1.1.19. Thank you so much to Bellum Gerere for reading through this chapter!
Chapter 21 - The Last One Standing
Well I'm not afraid to die here
But damned if I go on living a lie here
So long we revelled in the spotlight
And never think about the price we'd pay
When all the world around us slipped away
- Mikky Ekko, "Place For Us"
In some mysterious way, I hold myself together after Lairane's death. I'm almost frighteningly composed. I don't feel present in my own body. It's like I'm watching someone else eating, sleeping, talking—like it's not me carrying out these everyday tasks. But it is. How long can I live in this distanced, yet oddly peaceful existence?
At night I'm haunted by nightmares, but that's nothing new. I often don't fall asleep until early in the morning, and I sleep long into the afternoon.
I don't go back into the mentors' communication room. I only hear about what's happening in the Games secondhand, from the other mentors. I refuse to watch.
When I'm not sleeping, or trying to sleep, I spend most of my time in the common room with Johanna, eating cookies. A lot of cookies. We have formed some weird bond based on cookies and reruns of previous games. I surprise myself by feeling oddly satisfied watching how the other tributes I've gotten to know won their own games. I'm also surprised to realize how little I remember from previous years, even though I've been forced to watch every year for as long as I can remember. But when Johanna proposes to watch Haymitch's games, I refuse. It feels like prying into his private life. Like crossing a line.
I don't see much of Haymitch. He's probably off somewhere getting drunk. But Pelias often joins us, even though he doesn't seem to have the same fascination with watching old Games as Johanna and I. I don't have the energy to wonder if there's something wrong with me having this bizarre obsession in common with Johanna Mason of all people.
I'm walking down the hall from my room towards the common room. How many days can be left of the Games? Probably not many. I heard from Finnick yesterday that the boy from Five killed Deeann, the girl from his district, leaving only three: Everett, from Four, Haven, from Nine and the boy from Five. It won't be long before the Gamemakers start forcing the remaining tributes together for the grand finale.
"Are you sure this thing is working?" I stop in my tracks when I hear Haymitch's hoarse voice from inside a meeting room to my left.
"Yes, I am. Beetee has been perfecting it. It's blocking out every microphone within recording distance." It's a man's voice, one I can't place, but the Capitol accent is profound. "But we don't have much time before the technicians figure out something is wrong and come looking."
What's going on? I know I'm not supposed to hear this conversation, but I can't convince myself to keep walking.
"Okay. How's the situation in the Districts? They've cut all our communication out of here." It's Finnick's voice.
The Capitol man is the one that answers. "Things are tense. There are uprisings in both districts Eight and Eleven, and the Capitol is struggling to keep the situation under control. Other Districts are not far from riots as well. Four, Seven and Ten could riot at the smallest of provocations. President Snow is under a lot of stress. He has declared martial law in every District and is increasing the number of Peacekeepers everywhere."
"What about Coin? Can we count on her?" Haymitch asks.
"Not yet. She say she'll await the situation."
"Doesn't she always." I can barely hear someone mumbling, though I have no chance at figuring who it could be. I have no idea who this Coin person they're talking about is.
"You said there's already uprisings in both Eight and Eleven?" It's a female voice.
"Yes. That girl of yours, the one who killed herself, made a huge impact, especially in her own District. That was genius. Where did you find her?"
I hear something fall to the floor, and a voice shouts out a warning.
"Cecelia!" It's Haymitch. His voice is sustained, but there's a clear warning in it. I wish I could see what's going on inside, not just hear the voices, because it sounds like there's some kind of turmoil.
The woman—Cecelia—speaks again. "We didn't find her! She was reaped for slaughter because of your sick Games," she hisses, and I can hear the anger in her voice. "And she has a name, you know."
"Yes, yes, yes. I'm sorry. Calm down." It's the Capitol man speaking again, but it doesn't take long for someone else to cut him off.
"Could she be the symbol of our rebellion?" This time I know it's Johanna talking.
"That would work better if she wasn't dead," the unknown man answers. His response is followed by the sound of more things being pushed over, and someone trying to break up a fight.
"Pelias, take Cecelia outside."
Oh no! I have to get away before they find out I've been eavesdropping. But before I can back away from the door I hear Cecelia again. "No, it's fine. No need. I've calmed down. Just continue." I breathe out in relief.
"What about the girl from Twelve?" Johanna again.
"Afraid not. I hoped she would bring some of Katniss' spark. Adding more fuel to the fire Katniss started last year. I made sure to give Laraine the mockingjay pin and all. But she fell apart after the incident with the boy from Ten. Unfortunately." It's Haymitch speaking. I knew it. Something was up with that little setup with the pin. Haymitch has been setting me up. Making me play some part in...in what? What is this this? Rebellion? Whatever it is, Haymitch has been using me for it. I know I should be mad, but after Laraine it's hard to feel anything.
There's a long silence after Haymitch's words.
"How much time do we have left?" Finnick asks, breaking the silence.
"Not long. We have to be out of here in a few minutes," The man from the Capitol answers.
"We'll have to meet before we all leave the Capitol. And what about the others? Are we going to include any of them? What about Katniss?" Finnick saying my name makes me, stay even though I should have fled the scene. Include me in what? What is this exactly?
"No, not Katniss." Haymitch speaks up quickly and decisively.
"But doesn't she have the right to know?" asks Finnick.
"She's my responsibility. I decide." Haymitch leaves no room for discussion. I hear someone walking towards the door, and I know it's time to make my getaway. I hurry down the corridor until I reach the common room where I slide down in my usual huge armchair.
I have just regained my breath when one of the Gamemakers walks down the corridor while talking cheerily with Pelias. I know him! He's the man I danced with at my Victory tour—the one who showed me the watch. It starts at midnight. He'd said those exact words to me after showing me the mockingbird watch. At first I didn't understand any of it. Then, when I found out about the arena, I wondered if he'd been trying to give me a clue. But now, after what I just overheard, I'm starting to wonder if he had a wholly different agenda. What was it Haymitch just said about using my mockingjay pin as a sign of the rebellion?
The Gamemaker sees me and gives a friendly smile. Heavensbee. Plutarch Heavensbee. The name suddenly comes to mind. He gives me a wave before turning to Pelias to say goodbye.
My head is spinning with questions as I watch him walk away. Uprisings? Riots? Martial law? And what was that about the girl from Eight? Of course I remember her. She's the one who saluted and stepped off her plate before the sixty seconds were up. But what does she have to do with the uprisings? Was she the symbol of their rebellion? What rebellion? And who are they? And Laraine—bringing fuel to what I started last year? What did I start?
They spoke of a woman named Coin. Who is she? Some kind of secret rebellion leader? What does she have to do with my fellow victors and the Gamemaker? Are they all in on some secret plot to rebel against the Capitol?
Haymitch made it clear I was not to be told. What is it he's keeping away from me? And why?
I was right about the finale not being far away. Later that day, we have our winner. Haymitch is the one to come and tell me.
"They gave the three tributes ten minutes' warning to get out of the jungle before they activated all the zones. Haven wasn't fast enough. She thought she could make it over to the paralyzation zone, but the beast got her before she could make it over safely. The two boys both headed for the beach. It was bloody. If you want the details, see the recap. You wouldn't have thought two twelve-year olds had it in them to be so brutal," Haymitch tells me.
I shudder, and I feel nauseous. I'm afraid I have to see the recap, when I most certainly don't want to.
"Everett, from Four, got the upper hand. At least District Four can still boast about having the youngest victor to ever win the Games." He laughs, a raucous laugh. "Actually, I didn't think about that one before now."
It's over. The relief is flowing through me, but also a flash of guilt. How can I feel relieved after watching twenty-three kids die?
But I can't help it. Excitement is running through my body, making me lightheaded. Soon I'll be home. Soon. It's only the Victory Feast left. I'm supposed to be there, but then I'm going home.
I'm going home to Gale.
Gale! As much as I miss him and want to be back with him, just thinking about him fills me with remorse. What am I going to tell him? Can I count on him being there for me if I reveal everything I've learned over the past weeks?
Finnick told me President Snow wants to sell me to everyone rich enough to pay the price. Guess you have to share me, hope you don't mind. Oh, that's right, we're not allowed to be together because of my dead supposed boyfriend, so I guess that's okay then…I don't think that conversation is going to end very well.
The right thing to do is let him go. I can't make him stay with me. That would be cruel and selfish. But if I let him go, who else do I have?
I'm sitting with the other mentors at the back of the huge ballroom in President Snow's mansion, at the same table, as I met many of the victors for the first time at my own Victory Tour. It feels like a decade ago, but in reality it's only been half a year since then.
So much has happened. When I look at the people gathered around me now, I see myself reflected in their faces. They have lived through the same things I have. They are living with the same fear of the Capitol as I do. And now I see that we're alike. More alike than I ever could have imagined.
Give me five more years and I guess I'll be just like them.
Even if I long to be home, I'm going to miss being around people who don't judge, who don't lift an eyebrow when an unknown threat makes you jump or scream out. Being around people who understand. I'm starting to look at them like perhaps one day, they can be my friends. Some of them, at least, I moderate myself.
Finnick catches my gaze, smiles his Capitol smile, and walks over to me. "Want to dance? Quite a wasted party without any dancing, don't you think?" he purrs in my ear.
I laugh. I actually laugh. It's not forced or strained, it's heartfelt. Those are the exact words he said to me the night when we first met.
I smile and let him lead me onto the dance floor. It's going to be hard to say goodbye, especially to Finnick and Pelias. But I'm going to see them again, year after year after year. And if what Finnick says is true, I'm soon going to be a frequent visitor in the Capitol. Not now, Katniss. Don't thinkabout that now.
"Shouldn't you be with your victor?" I ask Finnick. I remember how lost I felt at my own party.
"Nah. Abaris is with him. I must be allowed to at least have one dance with our newest recruit. Oh, no. You're not anymore. Almost forgot." Even if his voice is joking, I can sense the sadness behind his word. Every year there's a new victor, and every year there are twenty-three dead kids.
We dance in silence, neither of us having anything particular to say. After a while, Finnick leans closer so he can speak without anyone else hearing.
"You never told me who Gale is, you know."
I frown at him. "You never told me about Annie." He looks a little surprised, but it's true, and he knows it. He hasn't talked about her with me. "Johanna did mention a girl named Annie. Is it Annie Cresta, who won five years ago?"
He nods. I don't ask him anything more. I can see the love and concern for her in his eyes. He doesn't have to tell me.
"Gale's my…cousin. Or so they say," I tell him. Finnick nods once. He understands.
Suddenly there's a hand on my shoulder, and I can see Finnick stiffen at the sight of whoever is behind me. I can feel his hand around my waist getting tense, and his fingers are digging into the fabric of my dress. His mouths squeezes into a hard line, before he forces it into a smile.
"President Snow. What a pleasure." His voice is once again a soft purr, the mask back on. Fear shoots through me like a burning arrow. My knees feel weak, and I'm glad Finnick hasn't loosened his grip on me. I force myself to put a calm, friendly mask on, just like Finnick did seconds ago, and turn around to smile at the devil himself.
"Mr. Odair! Miss Everdeen!" He greets us both with a nod of his head. His small, snakelike eyes rest on me. "May I have this dance, Miss Everdeen?" he asks.
Right, as if I have a choice. I send Finnick a pleading look, but I know he can't help me. He still has an arm wrapped around me, and I cling to his shoulder for support. He looks at me sadly, giving the slightest shake of his head, saying what I already know. I have to accept.
President Snow observes our short, silent conversation with an amused expression. "That is, if Mr. Odair here does not mind me borrowing his date. Come to think of it, do you not have an appointment later this evening Mr. Odair? You do not want to miss that, do you?"
"No, I haven't forgotten Mr. President, and of course I don't mind," Finnick forces out through clenched teeth, smile in place the whole time. How does he manage that?
Finnick gives me one last reassuring squeeze before he leaves me with the president of Panem.
President Snow takes one of my hands in his and rests the other on my lower back, dragging me closer. I have to force myself not to cringe away from him. Breathe, Katniss, I tell myself. One dance and it's over. Breathe.
"How did you like your stay in the Capitol, Miss Everdeen?" President Snow asks. I watch his puffed lips form a smile.
"It was splendid, thank you very much," I answer stiffly.
"I'm glad to hear that. Because I was wondering if you would like to grace us with your presence more often over the next year." It's not really a question, and both of us know it. Oh, here it comes, I think to myself.
"I understand that the last year has been rough on you, but now with the loss of your dear Peeta more at bay…I think it is time for you to move on, and what better place to do that than in our beautiful Capitol?"
He's still smiling, but my smile has turned into a grimace. I understand perfectly well what he's implying.
He leans even closer, his mouth level with my ear. I can smell the blood of all the innocent children on his breath. I feel lightheaded and nauseated. I'm hallucinating, I think to myself. It wouldn't be the first time.
"My friend Echelaus Pender told me you were quite a disappointment, but I promised him a new meeting, and that he could expect to see a different side of the famous Katniss Everdeen then." His voice is so low I know I'm the only one who can hear his words. I'm afraid I'm going to be sick.
The song ends and glides into a faster one, and to my relief, President Snow releases me. With a few extra inches between us, I can suddenly breathe more easily. The overwhelming smell of blood mixed with roses is no longer so pronounced.
"It was a pleasure. I am looking forward to seeing you again. Please, don't be a stranger." After a pause, he adds "And please send my regards to that cousin of yours. What's his name again? Gabe?"
"Gale," I say automatically.
"Yes, that's it. You'll have to excuse my bad memory; I'm starting to get old."
He kisses my hand lightly in a last goodbye and I'm left standing alone in the middle of the dance floor. For a short moment, I'm afraid I'm going to break down right in the middle of the Capitol's most elite. But I compose myself, and I stay as numb and distant as I have been since Laraine's death.
I have seen twenty-three kids die, two of them my own.
I'm ready to go home and try to forget.
Twenty-three dead, one left, but no winner.