Disclaimer is attached to the first chapter.

Note: Thanks for the follows, Martian Mojo and Sea of Delusions!

Note 2: There will be new chapters posted weekly (and occasionally bi-weekly) at least through the end of August. If this story goes in the direction I think it will, I'm less than a third of the way through writing it so far.

Capitol Nights, chapter 25

"Anything to avoid a bath, right?" Katniss says by way of greeting.

Haymitch looks up at her. "Worth it. You smell like strawberries and mint. Who thought that was a good combination?"

"Believe me, the smell is the least of it." She sighs irritably.

"I don't think your husband wants us talking without a monitor."

"It's okay, he'll have had your cabin bugged," she retorts. "I brought you something." She takes a tiny silver object out of her pocket and throws it to him.

Haymitch catches the key and unlocks the cuffs. Walking over to the window of his cabin, he slides it open and flings the restraints out. "So much for those," he says, turning back to her with a smile. His wrists hurt. Too late he thinks he should have pulled at the cuffs after they left him here, really ground them into his skin. Maybe he could have messed up the tattoos. "It's going to be a hell of a Tour," he tells the girl. Without waiting for an answer he brushes past her out of the cabin, heading for the bar.

765

The banquet in District 11 takes place as scheduled, and no one there mentions the horrific culmination of the Victors' Ceremony earlier in the day.

Katniss makes only a token protest against going, knowing that it's already much too late for such acts of defiance. How did it get so late so quickly? Peeta and Haymitch don't even join her in making that much of a gesture. She knows she shouldn't blame them for being so coldly pragmatic, but she can't help it.

The Town Hall where the banquet is held is heavily decorated in greenery. This event is being filmed by Eustace and his assistants as the first part of the thirteen nights Victory Tour special. There'll be a half-hour show for each District and a two-hour finale dedicated to the celebrations in the Capitol. And of course the usual commemorative disc, a toure d' force of editing that will condense the whole thing into two hours and make even District 12 look good- for the three minutes or so that the mining district is usually in view.

Chaff and Seeder are seated at either end of the main table, wearing costumes of green accented with gold and topped with woven crowns of leaves. The Victors from 12 are grouped around Chaff: Haymitch and Effie on his left, Katniss and Peeta on his right. At Seeder's right hand sits District 11's mayor, and their Head Peacekeeper sits at her left side. The rest of the seats are filled by the mayor's wife, his two teenage children, and a woman who has been introduced to them as District 11's oldest citizen. She's small and thin and gray-haired but healthy-looking. A carved wooden cane of deep brown and forest green leans against her chair. A miasma of fear hangs around her like a scent and she darts periodic glances around the table as though to be sure no one is looking at her.

The table is by itself on a dais overlooking the rest of the banquet hall, which is crowded with a hundred hand-picked citizens. All of them look to be in the 20-30 range and are neatly dressed and groomed just like the kids have to be on Reaping Day. In spite of this they seem to be having a good time, laughing and shouting to friends over the general din of conversation. There's plenty of free food for everyone, and richer food than most of them can obtain any other day of the year. Even rarer is the abundance of beer and wine, explaining the occasional burst of off-key singing that erupts at one table or another. Every ten feet along the wall stands a Peacekeeper, silent and watchful. Each of them has a pistol holstered on his or her right hip and their eyes roam ceaselessly over the crowd.

Katniss assumes these people are putting on a show just like she and Peeta and Haymitch have to. They're doubtless under orders to act happy. Helped along by the drink, they're celebrating just as though the Victor had been one of theirs and they were looking forward to a whole year of extra food. Just as though they hadn't watched the public execution of an old man for a single act of defiance.

At the main table the conversation is carried mainly by the mayor and his wife and Effie. The five Victors answer questions politely and offer agreement with any statement put forth. Effie invariably has to nudge Haymitch and repeat the question in an expectant tone before he replies, but they'll put that down to the alcohol. Katniss eyes him enviously and wishes she had such a ready excuse. Even such weak and pathetic gestures as that are not safe for her.

The Head Peacekeeper listens to everything said and fixes his unblinking gaze on whoever's speaking, hunting unorthodoxy even here among the elite. The old woman continues saying nothing and tries to avoid catching anyone's eye.

Eustace surfaces out of the crowd and climbs the steps onto the dais, his TV camera perched on his shoulder. "No, no, don't look at me," he says peremptorily. "Just go on with your conversations. Pretend I'm not here."

The mayor looks at his wife and then around the table before his eyes light on the old woman. "Furrow!" he says loudly. "Why don't you tell our distinguished visitors about how well your son and your daughter-in-law are doing."

Furrow jumps, dropping her fork to the floor. She freezes just like a tharn rabbit and stares at the mayor with wide, trapped eyes.

"Your son is a foreman in charge of the largest apple orchard in this section, is he not, Furrow?" the Head Peacekeeper says pointedly.

"Yes, sir," the woman says in a soft voice. She looks around in the momentary silence and then blurts out very quickly, "My daughter-in-law teaches the 13s through 16s at the local school. It's a good school. I have three healthy grandchildren. They're good kids." Her voice trails off. Summoning up a sick-doggy smile, she adds, "11 is a wonderful place to live. The best!"

"Of course it is," the mayor agrees, nodding enthusiastically as the camera instantly switches to him. "And the life expectancy here is the best in the outer districts. How old are you, Furrow?"

"Seventy-eight, sir," she answers quietly, her eyes on her plate again.

"Seventy-eight!" the mayor repeats, beaming. "And healthy as a horse!"

Eustace gives them all a thumbs-up and a big grin around his camera and then wanders off into the crowd again.

There's a moment of uncomfortable silence at the table before the mayor's wife says brightly, "You know, Katniss, this mulberry wine is made right here in District 11. Isn't it lovely? We're very proud of our local wineries."

"It's very nice," Katniss agrees, smiling and taking a sip of her apple cider. She is visibly pregnant and hasn't tasted the wine all night, but such subtleties and inconvenient facts don't matter at all here at the Hatter's tea party. 'Furrow' isn't any older than fifty-five at the outside, and if a single word the poor frightened woman said was true then she'll dance naked with Peeta around the angel fountain while Haymitch distributes pamphlets advocating sobriety.

Polite and meaningless conversation resumes, and Katniss's eyes happen to wander across the table to Haymitch. He's methodically eating a salad between long drinks from a tankard that the waiter drifts around to top off every few minutes. He eats without a flicker of expression or interest in the food set before him, like it's just another part of a passé performance he's so bored with already. Without a word, he mocks them for anyone who cares to notice. Again, Katniss envies him his 'addled' status. Maybe after the baby is born…

As she watches, Chaff taps the back of Haymitch's hand before reaching past him and taking a dish of cubed melon. "Sorry," he says off-handedly, like anyone who'd accidentally bumped into someone else. There was nothing accidental about that touch.

Haymitch shrugs one shoulder and mutters, "Forgotten." It's a truncated form of the polite Capitol response to an apology: 'It's already forgotten'. Except that the one word all by itself means nothing. The tone, and the there-and-gone look that might almost have been imagined, speak of anger and conspiracy and vengeance. Never forgotten, not ever. They'll pay.

"This is really charming," Haymitch declares after a moment, looking around at the décor with a sardonic smile. "Like eating dinner in the middle of a cornfield."

Chaff laughs. "At least we're the gods of the harvest," he says, drawing attention to his crown. He clinks his goblet of wine against the tankard Haymitch still holds. "Cheers, my friend."

Katniss looks away before she draws any more attention to them.