Chapter Twenty-Five

Match Point

Author's Note: Thank you for your usual reviewing promptness (if that even is a word) bluespades :^) Ash isn't quite ready to let go of the narrator role yet… Oh and, as a warning, there is occasional swearing in this chapter, but I doubt you'll find it in any of the others.

Ash

It's eleven in the morning, and I'm by myself in the main part of my new room. Everything feels like it's unfolded rapidly in comparison to the number of slow, restful days we've spent as patients in this clinic.

And yet here I am, almost back to normal healthwise, and out of the white shirt and pants all patients wear. I just got out of the shower, and am wrapped in a fluffy towel, examining the neat plastic packets of clothes left on my bed by the clinic: underwear, vests, socks, simple plimsolls, leggings, three t-shirts in different colours, a hooded sweatshirt, and some cotton pyjamas.

Their generosity continues to amaze me. I mean, if this were a hospital in Four, or in any of the districts, they'd patch you up, plant some painkillers in your palm, and send you on your way the second you could walk.

But then again, no healing centre, even in the Career Districts, was this wealthy and well-equipped, as far as I know. We've all been relocated to Guest Floor (or Forth Floor), and it's entirely dedicated to rooms where patients' families can stay if they need to. Every year the doctors, so we're told, book out twelve rooms for the tributes, a pair in each, give or take a few.

I'm glad I don't have Clove for a roommate, I must say. Instead, it's the girl from Three, Perdita, who's in the bathroom now that I'm done with it. We haven't talked a lot apart from polite pleasantries, but that's fine by me.

The only people who are still under observation are Flint, Dan, Thorn and Cato, but the first two should be out within the day, I'm sure of it. We've all been healing fast.

I comb my damp hair and look out the window: this isn't a very big city, compared to the Capitol. In the distance I can see blue-grey mountains, and some kind of white plain that sparkles in the sunlight. No clue what it is - maybe I'll ask Logan next time I see him.

For now, though, I have a different task to accomplish today. I let the towel drop to the floor and open up three of the packets on my bed. I choose a black t-shirt over white or navy, and press my feet into the white plimsolls with vigorous determination.

Now that my voice is back, I fully intend to use it. Vixen is about to get a sharp piece of my mind.

"Back soon," I say to the bathroom door, exiting the room. The only other person in the hallway is that guy from Eleven, Thresh, leaning against a wall. I reel back slightly, his presence unexpected. The little remaining evidence of any injury is a thick bandage wrapped around his right bicep.

"Hey," he says without any kind of inflection. I wave out of habit, before remembering my voice is actually there.

"Hi. Um…you okay?" I ask, at a total lack of anything else to say. He shrugs.

"Been worse. That Dr. Petri said he'd swing by and drop off some vitamin pills for me," he says by way of explanation for why he's hanging out in the hallway.

"Oh. Cool," I say, putting one hand on my elbow behind me. I then take an opportunity: "By the way, do you know which room Vixen's in?"

"Vixen?"

"You know, the girl with the fox face."

"Oh, her," he says, a rare smile going into his face as he remembers. "Yeah, you're in luck - I saw a redhead go into that room right there, and there's only one of them around."

He points to a door at the end of the hallway on my side. Well, that was easy.

"Great. Thanks," I say, heading towards it.

"What you want to see her for?"

I stop and turn to look over my shoulder.

"Just a score I need to settle."

He raises an eyebrow.

"Really? Well...do what you got to do. Just don't re-start the Games in there."

I frown, but don't respond to the comment. That was vague, but considering his interview consisted of one-word answers to every question, it's quite the improvement.

I get right up to the door, take a deep breath, and rap my knuckles loudly.

I have my serious face on, but that kind of backfires when it's Ember from Nine who answers the door. I scare her so much she actually jumps.

"Oh, sorry! Sorry. I wanted to see Vixen," I say hurriedly, feeling very embarrassed. Off to a great start, I am. The girl puts a hand to her chest, but then recovers, nods, and opens the door wider. She's going to think I'm mentally disturbed or something from now on.

I see red hair by the window, which whirls around to show me the face I haven't seen since the arena, when it was attached to the words, "you're a lot more naïve than I thought".

The game face is back straight away. Vixen herself stays where she is, looks me up and down with hostile eyes, but her resigned expression tells me she was half-expecting this confrontation at some point.

"Oh. It's you," she says, folding her arms. She looks a lot bonier than she was in the arena, and her skin is all washed-out.

"Yes. You and I need to talk," I say with as few words as necessary.

"Anything in particular?"

"You know damn well what 'particular' I mean."

"Um, should I leave...?" asks Ember in a small voice, still standing at the door.

"Oh no, that's okay," says Vixen, finally shifting from her place by the window, but not taking her eyes off me. "We can go into the hall."

The door shuts. She and I say nothing, both trying to be as stoic as the other.

"Do you seriously want to do this?" says Vixen eventually, rolling her eyes. "I thought the Games were all in the past now."

"Yes, I seriously want to do this," I reply immediately. "And the past doesn't just conveniently go away. We are doing this whether you like it or not."

"Fine," she sighs. "But can I just say - "

"No, actually, you can't just say. I'm so not interested in explanations from you, or apologies. All I wanted to tell you is that you are a first-grade bitch, and I hope I can live out the rest of my existence here without ever seeing your face again."

Now, I escalated in volume just then, so a couple of doors open up with tributes' heads peering out. Plus, I haven't forgotten that Thresh is still there behind me, presumably watching everything, but I really couldn't care less.

Vixen exhales brusquely, and tilts her head to the side, but other than that she looks unruffled.

"Is that it?"

I make a show of thinking, and then look her square in the eyes again.

"Oh yeah, there was something else. I hope you died painfully in there, because I sure as hell did."

Ah, a spark of anger shows up in her eyes. Result.

"Well, I did, as a matter of fact," she replies, spitting her words. "So I guess you'll go away happy."

"How did it happen?" I ask, my own arms folded. My eyes briefly take in Rue, Jackal, Dyon, Marvel, Clove and Glimmer, who are all looking out from their rooms at this unexpected argument. Vixen glances at the ground.

"I ate Nightlock," she mumbles. Now that was the last answer I expected.

"Nightlock…wait, you got killed by a bunch of berries? Oh wow, that's so…pathetic," I say, starting to enjoy this. "Your death was the result of a lapse in judgement. You must be so proud."

"I'll have you know," retorts Vixen. "I ate them knowing exactly what they were."

"…What?" I say, briefly losing my game face. "Why would you do that?"

"Oh come on. I was up against Cato, Katniss, Peeta, and this guy." She points right at Thresh, who spreads his hands as if to say "don't get me mixed up in this".

"What the hell was I supposed to do, huh? Get stabbed and strangled? Be wiped out by the Gamemakers? No, I died on my own terms…and I'm not ashamed to admit it."

"Well…it doesn't change what you did," I say, pointing my finger at her, shaking with fury. "But you know what? At least I went down fighting, unlike you. Coward," I add for good measure.

"Oh, you're calling me a coward?" repeats Vixen, her face animated with a snarl. "Please. I watched it happen from the sides, you know, once I got away from Thorn. You crumpled out there. They dragged you kicking and screaming, begging for mercy, all teary-eyed. 'Oh no! Oh no, please -' "

"SHUT UP! SHUT UP, SHUT UP, SHUT UP!" I shout. "YOU HAVE NO RIGHT, NO RIGHT TO TALK TO ME LIKE THAT. AFTER YOU BETRAYED MY TR - "

I cut myself off. It feels like something's stuck in my throat, and I put my hand to it. Vixen recoils, looking aghast, and I hear shrieks from Glimmer, Rue and Dyon.

I don't understand why until my hand comes away and I see bright red blood dripping through my fingers. Oh…

My knees buckle as I try to keep the blood in. What have I done, oh what have I done…I can't breathe…the arena comes rushing back. I'm reliving it. I'm reliving it all.

"Oh jeez, she's bleeding everywhere."

"Someone do something!"

"Dr. Petri! Dr. Petri, oh thank goodness you're here!"

"What's happened? Get back."

"Here. Take this. She needs pressure on the wound."

"Good, excellent. Right…just as well I arrived when I did. Let's get her up."

I feel arms supporting me, and at the same time a thick piece of cloth is being wrapped around my neck like a scarf. With my feet dragging along the floor, I'm hurried to the elevator, and a thumb presses the button for Accident and Emergency Floor.

You have got to be kidding me.

I'm awake for the "operation", which is actually a minor procedure done in one of the smaller rooms, on a chair, with a needle, invisible thread, and a numbing agent, as Petri explains to me.

I have to keep my head up the entire time, so I can't even see who's holding my hand at the side, the other person who helped me up here. They stay silent the entire time.

Now that my mind has calmed down and got itself back into some kind of working order, I replay the sequence of voices from the hallway, trying to work out who said what.

"Oh jeez, she's bleeding everywhere." Marvel, I think.

"Someone do something!" Glimmer, definitely. No one else's voice becomes that squeaky in times of crises. Nice to know she cared, I guess.

"Dr. Petri, Dr. Petri, oh thank goodness you're here!" If I'm not mistaken, that was Rue.

Obviously the person who sounded the most professionally urgent was Petri himself, but as for the person who offered the material for my neck, I'm having a hard time putting a name to the voice. That was when I was starting to really freak out.

I hadn't meant for things to get so out of hand. I didn't want to cause a scene…well, okay, I didn't want to cause that much of a scene. I certainly didn't knock on Vixen's door expecting to end up catching my own blood in my hands.

"There. That should do it."

I slowly lower my head and look at Petri. He doesn't seem disapproving of me, but his tone has a doctor-y sternness about it:

"Now, Ash, what happened was that your stitches tore open because they haven't fully healed yet, and unless you want that to happen again, you simply can't be putting strain on your voice like this. So I'd say that, for a good few days, until the stitches dissolve completely, don't sing, laugh too loudly or get into a shouting match."

He says that last part with a knowing glint in his eyes, and I glance at my feet hanging off the chair.

"Sorry," I murmur, testing my voice apprehensively. "I won't…thank you."

"You're welcome, but it is, after all, my job." He delivers a characteristic smile and nods his head to just behind me. "The person you should really thank is Vixen. She's the one who knew to create a makeshift tourniquet out of her own shirt."

The moment he utters her name, my eyes dart to my left, in disbelief until they rest on the genuine article: Vixen sits on a stool with her legs crossed, her expression neutral. She's in a vest and pants.

I have no clue what to do next.

"Well, you two better be on your way," says Petri with perfect timing, as usual. He stands and opens the door for us. "You know how to get back down to your rooms from here. Take care now."

And then it's just us in a hallway. Again. Only this time things are completely different. Neither of us knows where to look. I rub at the small blood stains on my t-shirt.

"Sorry about your shirt," I muster. We both glance at the creased ball of much bloodier cloth in her white hands.

"Whatever. I'll get another one."

Cue another awkward silence.

"Can I ask why?"

Vixen takes a minute to give an answer.

"Would you believe me if I said I felt bad for you?"

"Not right away," I respond flatly, knotting my fists together in front of me. "Still…thank you, I guess."

Her expression doesn't change, but she acknowledges my marginal gratitude with a nod.

"Although," I add, my voice even and considerably calmer than before. "You do realise that I stand by what I said. And that we are so not even."

"I know."

"…Good," I say. Feeling that I've achieved what I set out to do, I walk past Vixen, towards the elevator, without another word. She doesn't follow me.