I do not own The Hunger Games
Chapter 25: WoundsBrinna Paylor's POV
"Sign it." Boron Welkin slides a pen toward me, gesturing to the document that already sits on the table.
I stare at it. "This is a kill order." I am not surprised, but I feel a stabbing sensation in my heart all the same.
Boron and Lilyah nod. Boron explains, "We have to stop the threats against you. The only way to do that is to show that we will retaliate with punishment that is certain, swift, and severe."
"This is a kill order for Marus." I meet their eyes one at a time. Boron's face shows sympathy and determination. Lilyah's eyes are steely. Plutarch cannot meet my gaze. "Marus did not try to kill me."
"He was complicit in the attempt." Lilyah speaks.
"We don't know that for certain." My voice wobbles. I hate it.
Lilyah crosses her arms. "He resisted arrest and I was forced to shoot him. Are you saying that does not indicate guilt?"
I close my eyes and see flashes of that night: Lilyah raising her weapon, Marus looking shocked, telling her to get that thing away from me. When he reached into his jacket, Lilyah must have assumed he was going for his knives. The sound of the gunshot, the jerk backward of Marus's body, the flash of panic exploding when I thought he might be dead all reverberate in my head.
My eyes open when Boron interjects, "The districts are already upset because we allowed the Mockingjay to go free after killing Coin. It is anarchy. Brinna, he consistently rejects this government's policies with regard to his home district. We must set an example."
"Disagreement is not a crime." We have had this debate before.
Plutarch chimes in, "Brinna, we all know how you feel about the doctor. But the Capitol hears how he disagrees with you. If the end of your love story has an unhappy ending, we can use it to our advantage. This may be the perfect opportunity to separate yourself from him and garner some sympathy from the districts." There is a pause as he lets that sink in.
Lilyah has more to say. "Did you know about the knives? He slept next to you for how long and you never knew about that part of him. What else do you not know? How do you know that one night you won't wake up with a knife to your throat?"
I can't answer her. Instead, I drop my eyes to the paper in front of me, thinking of all the times Marus had opportunity to hurt me and didn't. Lilyah is wrong, I think to myself. But the assailants knew you would be in that hallway, a little voice refuses to be silenced inside my head. What if he told them? What if he has been feeding them information? It would not take much, Brinna – a meeting here, a note there. How well do you really know the people with whom he spends his days? I close my eyes and see a different Marus, one who seems fearless even in the face of imminent threat. This Marus wears a face I barely recognize and holds a knife in each hand.
I pick up the pen.
Marus Aurelius's POV
Lilyah stands inside the doorway to my cell. I am not sure when she arrived, and know that I have been successful in immersing myself in my own world. I remove my arm from where it covers my face, blink slowly and sit up. The pull of the stitches in my shoulder reminds me to keep movement to a minimum.
When she sees how slowly I am moving, Lilyah asks sarcastically, "How's the shoulder?"
With my feet placed flat on the floor and my eyes adjusted to the light, I finally speak, "You should know since you are the one who shot me and then stitched the wound. Neither very well, I might add."
"We can't all be high-powered doctors. It will close up well enough, if you live that long. She signed your kill order, Aurelius – you should be dead in a week."
Pain detonates in my heart, sharp and debilitating. I have to close my eyes briefly to wrestle it back: this is too important for me to miss details. There will be plenty of time when I am alone to take apart each emotional horror and examine it.
"What happened?" I imagine that Lilyah will be only too happy to cause me further pain but I have some driving need to know what has happened.
"President Paylor has decided to make an example out of you. Since your friends from 13 who attacked her are also dead, you will follow them."
"That decision must make you happy. You have never much cared for me."
Lilyah laughs. "I have no time for men who betray the trust of their women. You lured her in and used her emotions against her. You have no honor."
"I did no such thing. Ask yourself, Lilyah, what would I have to gain from a change in the government? According to you and Boron, I had influence already. What would I gain from my district leading Panem? And who would do the work? Leader Steev? Sure, he is progressive. But all of his soldiers are gone. Why would he jeopardize the people that are left in his district without any way to defend them?" I pause, knowing there is a more personal reason for Lilyah's feelings. "I did not betray Brinna in the way you feel your husband betrayed you."
I know those words are the wrong thing to say when I see her spine stiffen. "You might have wanted to lead the government yourself. You're certainly smart enough. All men want power and glory."
I laugh and it comes out of my more like a harsh bark. "Smart? You think it only takes intelligence to lead a government? You have not been paying attention. Brinna is smart, but she is also a leader of people. She genuinely cares for the districts. She can negotiate and understands when to back down or when to push forward. She is totally committed to Panem. Why would I want to lead when she is the best one for the job?"
"She can't hear you, doctor. And even if she could, she won't save you."
I sigh. "Lilyah, I would not ask her save me. What sort of consort would I be if I were always asking for favors? Let me ask you again, who benefits from me being gone? You will need to figure that out quickly because, whoever it is, they will capitalize on Brinna being even less protected. I think the lesson from the other night for all of us is that guards can only do so much to keep her safe. You should be planning for that, not here talking to me."
"That doesn't really sound like you are pleading for your life." Lilyah sounds confused.
"You just said it would do no good. I am asking you to remember the reasons we fought this war."
Lilyah explodes. "You didn't fight! You were secreted away, doing whatever it is that doctors in District 13 do. Hiding, probably. Like a coward."
I refuse to let her words get to me, although I feel a pang when I think of Boggs fighting while I stayed in behind. "I did not have a family like you did. And I did not fight in battle. But if the choice to fight for the current government or stay behind was put in front of me today, I would gladly fight. I would rather die than have the President believe me to be a traitor. Besides, I have no life without Brinna in it."
"Feeling melodramatic, are you?"
"Lilyah, Alma Coin took my family. She laid out a structure in my district where there was nothing but obedience. Life was the same every day without any variation, until the day you died. President Paylor has a dream for Panem – a dream where laughter and partnership and hope abound. I would rather die than lose that. I am asking you to respect that dream and to protect her. No matter what your personal feelings are, I know that you want a better life for Kreg and Ama."
"Do not speak the names of my children." Lilyah looks like she would shoot me again if she had the chance. I realize I have pushed her too far when she says, "I disabled the cameras before I came in here, hoping you would talk to me frankly. Now I am glad that I took the time. "She rises purposefully and wields a small device that looks like a pen. It glints rather more sinisterly, the tip of it silver and very sharp. I stare at it, calming my breathing and clearing my mind for whatever comes next.
"President Paylor trusted you. I trusted you. My son trusted you. This is for each of us. Perhaps it will make you re-think your protestations of innocence and finally tell me the truth." She stalks toward me.
When she forces my sutures open and probes the wound in my shoulder, I realize that my mental preparation may not be enough for the searing heat that overtakes me.
Brinna Paylor's POV
I sit at my desk staring out the window, finally letting the fatigue overtake me. I have been moving non-stop since Marus was taken, trying to work through – or outrun – thoughts of him. I find myself successful right up until I get ready for bed. At night thoughts of him surround me and crash over me, keeping me awake most of the night. I miss him. I imagine his arms around me and have taken to sleeping in his shirts so that I can still smell him. Even his side of the bed is now mine.
The dark circles under my eyes are back with a vengeance.
I listen to my advisors berate me daily for leaving the kill order unsigned. All of their arguments are logical but I still cannot bring myself to sign it. Through the darkness each night, the one thought that sticks with me, pounding in my chest as surely as my heartbeat, is that letting him live is the right decision.
My assistant walks into the library and announces my next appointment– Effie Trinkett has come to see me. I wonder what would make Effie come to call, and then shrug mentally. I am sure that it will not take long to discover.
"Good morning, President Paylor!" Effie's sing-song voice jolts me back to the present. She is wearing a lime green suit and lavender hair. Her hair matches the potted flower she is carrying in one hand. Her makeup is perfect by pre-rebellion standards but stands out as a little too garish now. Still, I feel rumpled and dowdy in my navy blue suit despite its perfect tailoring. I randomly wonder how long it takes her to get dressed every morning.
I notice the thinness of her shoulders, and the vacant look in her eyes makes me wonder what medication she is taking. I deliberately make my voice warm. "Good morning, Effie. To what do I owe this charming visit?" I motion for her to sit.
Effie puts the flower down on my desk. "I have never expressed proper gratitude for being granted a position as an event planner. It is so good to have a purpose again!" She gestures that the flower is meant for me.
I smile at the emphasis she puts on the word good. "You are more than competent at the position and there is no need to thank me." I glance at the flower, noting the lovely petals with the deep violet center. The violet reminds me of my dress the night of Peeta's exhibition. The gap between then and now yawns widely.
Effie continues, "You and Doctor Aurelius are too kind to have so much faith in me." She must see the flash of pain on my face because she says, "I was sorry to hear about your unfortunate mishap and the Doctor's questioning."
I nod, looking at my desk and feeling my throat close in the face of her kindness. I have girded myself against questions and attacks from my supporters for days. Effie's single act of understanding and kindness has me acting like a baby and I take a moment to recover. The silence extends between the two of us until I am composed enough to meet her eyes.
"You obviously know I am a patient of Doctor Aurelius. I was hoping that, while he is detained, I could gain your permission to visit him? I do not want to be selfish, but I cannot trust my health to anyone else. I am sure you can understand."
I look at the woman sitting before me and think back to her when she came to District 13: she is almost a completely different woman. I know that is due to Marus. How many other people am I dooming if I sign the kill order? He has helped more than just me in the time we have been in the Capitol.
"…That adorable girl Vixen Welkin – so unfortunate that her hair is so very red and she refuses to wear a wig, don't you agree? She gave me a book she thinks will interest him. Vixen said something about translating some old diary and it having information about Tracker Jacker venom. She thought it might help Doctor Aurelius treat Peeta. I am sure he must be bored, don't you think?"
Peeta. I had not thought of Peeta or Katniss. If I kill Marus, what happens to the strides they have made in their recovery? I picture Marus in his kitchen, covered in flour feeding me bread. His enthusiasm that day for his breakthrough connection with Peeta was palpable. I know with certainty that there is no other doctor in all of Panem who will have a hope of saving them.
I stare at Effie until she clears her throat. I meet her empty eyes. "I'm sorry, Effie. My thoughts carried me away for a moment. I think it would be lovely for you to visit him. He must be tediously bored and would welcome the company and the reading material as the investigation continues. I will notify his guards that you are to set your own schedule."
She smiles at me. "Thank you! Do you anticipate the investigation taking much longer? I would imagine you are looking forward to his release. I had heard an unfortunate rumor" – she says that word with distaste – "that he might be put to death!" She wrings her hands and grasps them to her chest.
I sigh. "That is quite an unfortunate rumor and is completely untrue. I am sure the investigation will conclude soon. We have Panem's best investigators on it," I tell her. The truth is that I receive an update every day on the investigation and there is much more conjecture than fact at this point. Even without the kill order hanging over both of us, his incarceration may be lengthy. I am thankful that Lilyah has agreed to look out for him and keep him safe.
She claps. "I am sure it will be good to have him home."
I nod, wishing it were that simple and he could just come home. That I could feel his body next to me and hear his laughter. What would it take to make that happen?
Effie rises with an exclamation about taking too much of my time and thanks me again. I barely hear her.
Marus Aurelius's POV
I fear my wound is becoming infected: the skin around it is taut and red, and the wound itself weeps almost constantly. It throbs in a way that makes me nauseous. I block it out by forcing myself to do physical activity. I perform some stretches, breathing deeply and concentrating on each muscle grouping. Holding my arm as immobile as possible, I take a swordsman's stance. I imagine Lilyah coming toward me and imagine a sharp, thin sword in my hand. I lean toward my imaginary target, breathing past the roiling waves of pain radiating from my shoulder. I force myself to concentrate.
The opening of the door is not expected. Even more unexpected is my visitor, Effie Trinkett. I stand uncertainly in the middle of my cell and stare at her, as if I am imagining things.
"Hello, Doctor! Oh dear, you are wounded! Has a doctor looked at that?" She is staring aghast at my shoulder, as if she sees me half naked and pretending to hold a sword every day.
I recover myself, standing upright. "Effie, it is good to see you. I do not believe my wound is a priority for anyone but me right now." How did she even get in here?
Her lips purse in a tight line. "We will have to see about that."
Before I can stop her, she whirls out the door. I sink back onto my cot and rest my head against the wall. What could she possible be doing? I am surprised she would come to this facility, especially given her own, similar experience. The doctor in me is pleased to see her facing and conquering her fears.
The wait does not seem long when she herds several young men into the cell. One carries a chair another has medical supplies and a third has warm water, clean clothing and towels. Effie guides them in front of herand they send sheepish looks my way while she berates them. Although the scene before me makes me want to laugh out loud, her words leave me chilled.
…"You did not think to check on him even though his cameras were off? Of course he needed medical aid. He could have bled to death before anyone noticed! I cannot imagine that President Paylor would appreciate her guest being treated in this manner."
Guest? Perhaps that is how Effie thinks of it. Perhaps thinking of me as a prisoner is too raw for her – too close to her own recently healed wounds.
Supplies delivered, she hastens their departure with the same brisk efficiency. "Please leave the cameras off during my therapy session. Doctor Aurelius is helping me to heal and President Paylor herself has authorized these sessions. "
I wonder if Brinna knows that Effie is here. I cannot believe that the guards would allow anyone here without authorization.
I thank her for her efforts once the guards have left and begin to clean the wound. Effie bustles toward me when she sees me wince and then exhale slowly. "Effie, I can do this."
"Nonsense, Doctor. The angle alone will be difficult." It is my turn to be chastised.
She helps me hold the edges of the wound together so that I can apply adhesive sutures. I have forgotten how pragmatic Effie can be. I see the scars on her hands that have not yet been eradicated by skin treatments where someone peeled her fingernails and most of the skin away. She is particularly self-conscious of those scars. I am convinced that they are the reason she still insists on wearing heavy makeup on her face: she must feel that it compensates in some way to put on a perfect face. Her eyes seem slightly less vacant, though, and her touch is firm and steady. She seems more than she has in most of our sessions.
She pats my hand when we are through binding the wound, then sits. It dawns on me when she produces a pad and pen from her voluminous purse and hands them to me that she expects us to have a normal session despite the circumstances.
Surprisingly, we do. It almost seems as if the cell location actually helps Effie talk through some of her feelings and recent progress. I see her becoming stronger almost before my very eyes and her eyes remain lively and engaged the entire session. By the time we wind the session to a close, I realize that I may be seeing the pre-rebellion Effie Trinkett sitting before me.
As she collects her things, she asks if I am looking forward to going home when the investigation is complete. Her question brings me back to reality with what feels like a kick to the head.
"Effie, I do not that that is going to happen." I talk softly, knowing that it may take the light out of her eyes when I say the next sentence. It is important that Effie learn the truth and it seems fitting that it should come from me. "President Paylor has authorized me to be put to death."
Effie's eyes go wide and then she does the unexpected – she laughs. The sound is high pitched and melodious. It is not at all the sound of someone who if fractured beyond repair. I frown.
"President Paylor assured me that she is looking forward to your return as soon as the investigation concludes. Soon we can resume our sessions in your office!" Effie claps. She picks up her bag. "Oh, I almost forgot. That delightful Welkin girl gave me a book to pass along before she leaves for District 5. She said that it may help you to determine a cure for Peeta!"
Effie continues to ramble about how she planned Vixen's trip to District 5 along with Kreg's trip back to District 2.
…"Such an honor to be able to plan events for our young heroes, don't you agree? I am sure that Lilyah is upset that her son is leaving – she has seemed rather cranky lately. But young birds need to spread their wings and I am so delighted to be part of their first flights from the nest. They both leave tonight!"
I barely hear the discourse of the trip details. Kreg leaving the Capitol could very well be the reason that Lilyah was so aggressive. Or she could be in on the conspiracy to take over Panem.
…"I will leave the book right here on the chair. You should take a look at it right away – Peeta is a national treasure and we should do everything we can to help him through his recovery. I am going to tell the guards to check on you again. The ones today were so nice – don't you agree? – I will see if they can do come before their shift change. Since they are already familiar with your condition, they can determine if additional medical attention is required. We mustn't have that wound getting infected and jeopardizing your return home!" Effie stops at the door and looks back at me as if she has something more to say. Instead, she waves cheerfully and totters out the door on her incredibly high heels.
The silence settles over my cell like a tomb. I make my way to the book, a frivolous Capitol journal covered in orange suede velvet and studded with gemstones. A bright orange ribbon hangs out of the pages, obviously meant as a bookmark. Each end of the ribbon is capped with a gold charm - one is a heart and the other is a horse. Here in the Capitol, this is the journal of a girl. Back home in District 13, Alma Coin did not have anything nearly as fine.
Stuck to the back of the book, as if held there by static or something from Effie's purse, are two pieces of paper: one lists Kreg and Vixen's itineraries, including departure times and locations for tonight. The other paper is a map to my cell through the underground labyrinth of this facility. It must have been how Effie was able to find my guards and locate my cell for her visit today. Doodled in in the margin of the map is a series of small and large primroses, sloppily drawn.
I hope that Effie does not need the pieces of paper. She has been forgetful since we started her on her anti-anxiety medications. I make a note to discuss a medication adjustment the next time we talk and then sit on the chair to begin reading. I open the book and stare in amazement.
I will not be discussing medication with Effie Trinkett anytime soon.
I am leaving the Capitol tonight.
-The next day-
I meet Leader Steev outside the doorway to District 13. I am travel weary, rumpled and bruised. I can still feel the throbbing in my shoulder as a constant reminder that my heart still beats. He eyes me warily, especially given the red-haired girl standing next to me. I stand as straight as I can, extend my left fist downward and move my right fist as close to my left bicep as it will go without reopening my injury.
His expression clears and he returns the salute. "Welcome home, Marus."
"It is good to be home, brother."
He motions to Vixen Welkin. "You must tell us of your adventure and of the company you keep."
"We have travelled all night. Might we have a dispensation from the kitchen?" I keep my voice soft, the way we are taught in District 13. There is no need for excess emotion, for loud speech or laughter.
We go below and I explain, "It was as easy as the games we played as children: I waited for the guards to check on me, disabled them using the weapon slipped into my cell with Effie Trinkett's visit, followed the map out of the facility, boarded Vixen Welkin's hovercraft and took control of it."
"So you are back and all is as it should be." Lijah Steev leans back in his chair, clearly pleased.
I shake my head. "No, brother. Since District 13 has not disarmed and I am a fugitive, I fear that Panem's President will send troops. We are weak in number here and vulnerable."
Vixen interrupts, "Weak in number, but not in strategy. Once my father knows I am here, he will work to keep the President from using force."
I stare at her, suddenly understanding why she did not struggle when I took over her hovercraft. Vixen Welkin, it would seem, is used to being a pawn. Like Effie Trinkett, she may have some surprising insights because of that.
I walk her to her quarters and question quietly, "Why would you agree to be a pawn?"
Vixen shrugs. "I thought it might be time for me to work on my issues. You might be a fugitive, but you are also the best head doctor in all of Panem. I thought we could make a trade."
"I use you as a shield for my District and you get therapy?" I say thoughtfully.
"Well that and I get to see what you do with my Grandmother's journal. I'm pretty sure you can't resist trying to cook up a cure for Peeta."
"Am I that transparent?" I smile.
She considers me. "Not in all things, Doctor. Not yet."