Aftermath, Part One.
Ferrox Mervaine — 28 years
Head Gamemaker
Post-150th Hunger Games
The phone kept ringing.
He kept ignoring it.
Ferrox sat, perched on a cushy armchair in the corner of his room. He waited, watching the phone silently, as the ringing tapered off and left him in silence once again. He wrung his hands together for the eighteenth time, sighing and closing his eyes.
The ringing started again.
So, so dead.
It was a matter of some before some Capitol Force broke into his home. Dominika would get tired, eventually, and would just shoot him in his own home. She wasn't big on theatrics; it wouldn't matter how he died. It never did, in her eyes, only this time too much had happened. She hadn't spoken so much of a word to him since the Final 8 interviews, and that scared him the most. Too much. Too much had happened on his watch.
It wasn't even Kiero. He was fine. Mostly. Slightly traumatized when they got him on the hovercraft, a little quieter than he had been before during the post-Games interview, but he was whole and not suffering a mental breakdown as of yet, so he was fine as a victor. The Capitol liked underdogs. He wasn't a terrible choice. It was everything else. All of the collateral damage. He was probably going to be the next one to fall victim to it.
The phone started, and picked up again. Ferrox was seriously contemplating why he had gotten it in the first plate.
He yanked his own phone out of his pocket and stared at the screen for a moment, before he called Cambria.
"What do you want, dickhead," she answered almost immediately. It was nice, almost, to hear her voice, even if it was like this.
"Just wanted you to know I'm probably dying this afternoon. Thought you should know."
He blinked when she didn't respond. He even pulled the phone away from his ear, looking at the screen for confirmation that she hadn't hung up.
"Make up cool stories at my funeral, hey? If they have one. Look extra hard for my body, she'll probably hide it in the basement—"
"She's not going to kill you, Fer."
Ferrox sighed, rubbing a hand over his face.
"You know her as well as I do, Cam. I fucked up. Once or twice is okay, but this much? I'm dead," he stated simply. It scared him a lot more than he cared to admit, though. For all the death he saw he wasn't ready for it himself. There was another pause on the end of the line, but he could hear background noise. Cambria was still there.
"Where are you?" She asked suddenly.
"My house?"
"Okay. Stay there. She'll kill you over my dead body," Cambria said determinedly. Ferrox could hear it in her voice, that slightly scary version of her where she threatened and did anything she had to do. It was never towards him. It was always protecting him.
He wouldn't let it happen. They didn't have to both be collateral. Just him. It scared him, but it was better than the alternative. Better than both of them.
The phone started ringing again. If it shook much more it was going to fall off the table.
"I love you, hey, Cam? Just know that."
"If you hang up on me, I swear to God—"
He hung up on her.
Ferrox dropped his phone on the chair and darted across the room, grabbing the other phone. Now or never. Might as well get it over with.
"Hello!" He answered cheerfully. The person on the other end might believe it, but his heart was hammering too hard for him to actually believe it. He wasn't okay with this. He didn't want to die. Running wasn't an option, though.
"Head Gamemaker Mervaine. President Gardell requests your audience at the Mansion."
Subtle.
It's not like he didn't expect it, though. By the sounds of it, the man on the other line was some burly, tattooed security guard who could probably crush his head like a grape. Nothing more than a scare tactic. One that was working, but he didn't have to know that.
Ferrox arranged for a car. He didn't want to die here, in his room, his own brain splattered across the walls. If he waited any longer that's exactly what would happen. Not five minutes later he heard more than saw the vehicle pull up outside the building. It took everything in him to make himself leave the hallway, shut the door behind him with a soft click. Down the stairs. Outside. The driver was non-descript, the car black. He was already riding in a hearse.
The whole ride there was a blur. It upset him, after he realized that they were already almost there. He should've taken more time memorizing the streets. Should've done a lot more things, but there was nothing that he could do now. He told Cambria he loved her. He probably should've called Vesper, but his brother would understand. That, or he'll spit on his grave, but at least he'll know he's remembered.
It has to count for something.
Everything after that's a blur. The car stops, but the chaffeur doesn't move. An armed guard of about six people escorts him through the gates and into the mansion. He's lead to the end of a hallway that's all too familiar, shoved through one of two grand doors, and all but locked inside. There's a thud as the doors settle against each other. He doesn't bother trying them. They're not locked, that's not Dominika's style either, but Ferrox would guarantee all six of those guards are still sitting outside.
Oh well. Nothing to do but wait. It's not like he's unfamiliar with the room, at any rate. They meet here all the time. He skidded across the floor in every single one of these chairs while she stared at him blankly from the opposite wall.
He plops himself in one of the chairs, for old time's sake. With the tip of his shoe he begins spinning himself in circles. He doesn't have anything better to do than wait.
Turns out it doesn't take long. He's still spinning when he hears the door open, but he doesn't stop spinning.
"Ferrox."
Still spinning.
"Are you ever going to stop?"
Ferrox catches the edge of the floor with his shoe, nearly catapulting himself out of the chair. He scoots around until he's facing Dominika, vision still spinning. He gives his best convincing smile. Apparently, she isn't amused.
"You know, being so flippant about things is the reason we're in this situation."
"Me, flippant? Rude."
She isn't amused by that, either.
"I only act like I am. If I really was, this Capitol wouldn't be standing. The Games would have been blown to hell with half the population," he continues. Dominika stares at him silently.
"You know that. You're not stupid, it's the reason you're still in power. You're one of the most loved Presidents of our time - young enough to be admired, fierce enough to keep people in line. Strong enough to make the right decisions. Everyone before you made the wrong ones, and that's why they're all dead and you're still here."
"I don't think I've ever heard you speak that efficiently," Dominika said flatly, raising an eyebrow. Ferrox smiled. He wasn't done yet, though. He couldn't be. He couldn't afford to lose this fight.
"Look me in the eye and tell me you want to kill me."
Dominika looked across the room at him, arms crossed over her chest. He smiled again.
"I know you don't. That's your only fault," Ferrox told her. His heart was pounding. He was either winning or digging a deeper grave for himself. "You get attached. Not to a lot, but when you do .. well. Look what happens."
She glared at him. "The idea of killing you is becoming more attempting."
"I knew you didn't want to."
They both stopped, staring at each other silently. She hadn't come any closer, and he hadn't dared rise from the chair. This was about making all the right moves. So far, he had failed, until this moment. He had minutes to make everything right. That, or turn the situation in his favor.
"You talk more when you're terrified," she tells him flatly. Ferrox swallows. Dominika walks forward, slowly, heels clicking against the tiled floor, until she's looking down at him, standing mere inches away.
"Remember why you're terrified. One move, and I could have you dead. For all your bravery, all your foolishness, you are not in control. Remember that."
He stood, until they were nose to nose. She refused to take a step back. He was taller, but she stared up, unflinching. She really was terrifying, when you looked her in the eye. One of the most merciful Presidents they had ever had and look at her.
"Remember why you chose me? He asked. He waited a few moments, hands clenched when she didn't answer. Not like he expected her to.
"You said I was always one step ahead," he reminded her. "Maybe I'm not, today, but I still know you. And that's what scares you the most. It's not the rustling in the Districts, the unnecessary death of kids or civilians. You're afraid of someone breaking through, tearing you apart."
That was it. His final card. And someone was either going to come through the door and shoot him, point blank in the head, or he'd survive. He barely dared to breathe.
It was all about the moves. Who got the upper hand. He was aware of that better than anyone else.
"Are you ever afraid it might be the other way around?" She questioned simply, and the smirk on her face was wicked. The smile he gave her back was reflexive, but it was the slightest bit real.
"Guess we'll find out."
Dominika shook her head, the smirk still plastered on her face. Her eyes had changed though.
"Leave."
Ferrox wasn't going to fight that one. He side-stepped her quickly, heading right for the door. Hopefully the guards on the other side knew not to kill him, or this would all be for nothing. That, and he'd be a little peeved.
The guards parted silently outside the door. He didn't turn to see if Dominika had followed him out, instead hurrying as quickly as possible. Anywhere but here, before Dominika changed her mind. Once outside, he waved off the offered car. It still hurt to breathe, or maybe he was just imagining that. His heart felt like it was going to explode out of it's chest.
Alive. He's alive. Maybe not due for a massively long life, but alive for now.
His phone was still lying on the chair at home. He probably was still going to die, at any rate. Cambria wouldn't hesitate, even if Dominika had. But he might as well go back. There was no where else to go at this point.
The walk flies by as fast as the drive did. The stairs are methodical - taken one at a time because he's afraid he's going to fall over if he goes any faster. He doesn't bother taking the key out. Why bother locking the door when you think you're not going to be coming back, after all. He slips through the slightest crack of the door and closes it silently behind him, leaning back against the wooden frame.
He's alive.
His eyes fall on his phone. The screen is lit up, flashing repeatedly. No doubt Cambria tried to get a hold of him again.
How many lives does he have?
"Fer?"
He freezes, straightening up when Cambria appears out of thin air at the end of the hallway. She looks frenzied, and he doesn't even get one good look at her before she's on him, arms wrapped around his neck, feet almost dangling off the floor.
"I thought you were dead, what the fuck is wrong with you, Fer, christ."
He's oddly still. Cambria steps back, eyebrows drawn together. The concern that's in her eyes is something he rarely sees. Whenever he does it's almost always at him. He never realized it before.
"Are you okay? Jesus, your hands are shaking, what the hell happened?" She asks frantically. It's startling, to see her in such disarray. She clutches both of his hands between her own. "You're not talking. It's weird."
Ferrox doesn't respond, just tugs his hands gently away from her, and wraps his arms around her. His entire arms are shaking, he realizes idly. Cambria doesn't stop him, just wraps her arms back around him, hands clutching at his shoulders and head buried against his neck.
It's nice. He's still having trouble processing, but it's nice regardless.
"I'm fine," he says weakly into her hair.
"Yeah?"
"I'm alive."
"There's a difference between those two things."
He pauses, and shrugs under her hold. One of her hands leaves his back and thumps him hard in the shoulder, but she doesn't let go after that.
"Can you marry me now?" Ferrox mumbles. "I think I deserve it."
He never expects anything of it. Whenever he brings it up she hits him, or pinches him, or kicks him under the table no matter who's watching. He always just smiles, half-joking and half-serious, all the time. He loves her, though. He really does.
"Sure," she says suddenly, into his shoulder. He pauses.
"Wait, what?"
"Are you deaf, I said sure, because you probably won't make it to 30 anyway, so—"
Ferrox lifts her up, until her feet are clear off the floor, arms wrapped tight around her waist.
"Put me down."
He continues squeezing.
"I'm serious."
The thought of letting go is harder than he thought it would be.
"I'm not going to marry you anymore, put me down."
He laughs, an honest to God earnest laugh, but returns her to the ground. It feels so good, actually amazing, to still be here. This was worth living for. Will be worth living for. Ferrox pulls back, still keeping his hands at her side, unable to wipe the smile on his face. Cambria stares back at him, irritation flickering in her eyes.
"I'm going to regret this," she sighs, shaking her head, but she smiles now too.
"Probably. Hey, does this mean I can kiss you now?"
"No."
"What, it's not like we haven't before—"
"Ferrox."
He breaks off, smiling sheepishly. "Okay. I'll save it for later, then."
Cambria opens her mouth and then obviously decides better on whatever comment she had almost made, snapping her mouth shut. She looks flustered for a second, nearly waving her hands in exasperation before she drops them on each of his shoulders, leaning forward until she all but face-plants into his chest.
"You're insufferable," she mumbles, but there's something fond in her voice.
"I know."
He's insufferable, and loving, and alive.
And it's worth it.
Della Carter — 55 years
District Eight Mentor
Victor of the 110th Hunger Games
It's weird.
It had been her and Mia for so long that she'd gotten used to it. And then Rayon happened, and they had to spend their time picking up the pieces the Games had left him in.
And now Kiero. It's easier this time, though.
For one, he's not in nearly as many pieces. Almost all of them come back shattered or broken in some form, but he might be easier to put back than most. He's strong enough to do it on his own. He would, if there weren't already so many people crowding around him. By the time all the formalities are done, though, he's drained. They all are. It's only been nine years since Rayon won but it feels like a lifetime.
She's hoping the train ride home will give them time to collect their thoughts, organize them into something resembling normalcy. It might be harder than normal.
Mia's going to kill her for this year of all years being the one someone else finally comes back to District Eight. The one year she didn't come with them.
She'll survive.
Rayon had untucked himself from her side and disappeared a few minutes ago. Kiero's still standing silently beside her, looking around the compartment like he's still processing that he's here.
"You alright?" She asks him. He looks at her quickly, wringing his hands together.
"Yeah."
"Now say it like you mean it."
Kiero paused, and then his mouth twisted into a smile. He ducked his head, staring intently at his shoes.
"I ... I think I am, though. Maybe not fully, but I'm getting there. I think."
Della found herself smiling without realizing it. She knew she had it in him. For a few moments in those Games, she had been worried. Eitta died and she barely saw Rayon come out of his room, only for him to appear silently behind her chair in the control room not five minutes after Kiero killed Estelle. They had come together.
And then there was the map.
It wasn't supposed to be in the arena. It didn't even look like it was a sponsor gift, and it shouldn't have been. The money it cost would have drained her entirely, if Cooper and Miles hadn't come to her and encouraged the idea. They joined together for it, for their kid's alliance. And it had paid off. Kiero got to it first - luck of the draw, and then he had used it to win.
"Glad to hear it," she says finally. Kiero glances at her out of the corner of his eye and looks away just as quickly.
"What?" Della questions softly.
"It's just. Is it bad that I'm afraid to go home? I never even thought that could happen, never thought I could feel like that, and I do," he says hesitantly. He never was before. It's just another one of the things that's changed.
She understands that feeling, though. The overwhelming, crushing feeling that even though you've accepted your victory no one else will. Even if you kill your own demons you're still convinced on some level that everyone will hate you for what you've done, that your family will turn their backs on you and your friends will forget the person that left in the first place.
It's a scary thought. That alone is almost worse than the Games.
"Listen to me, alright?" Della starts. "The second you get back, the second they see you again, none of it's going to matter. There's a ton of reasons why, but you wanna know the most important one? A piece of their home left when you did, and against all odds they're getting it back. You back."
"But—"
"Nah, no buts. If you try that on Mia she'll probably smack you. They won't care. Not right away. Eventually they might wanna talk. But you'll be home, and that's all that will matter right now. Proven fact. Trust me on it."
Kiero stuffs his hands in his pockets, sighing and scuffing one of his feet along the ground.
"Go get some rest," she tells him gently. "You probably could use it."
He nods, looking at her in an almost grateful way. His shoulder brushes against hers when he slips past her to go, although it doesn't seem like he has a clear direction in mind. Della can't blame him.
"Hey, Della?" Kiero says at the last moment before he rounds the corner. "Thanks."
He doesn't tack on a for everything, or anything close. Because she knows. She just smiles, knowing that he's going to be okay when she gets one back from him.
They might be a little crooked at the edges, a little scarred - inside or outside - but it doesn't matter. She's bringing two boys back instead of one. Mia won and she felt alive, finally seeing someone come out at her hand, even if she was bloody and outraged and wanted to tear everything and anything who touched her apart. When Rayon came back it felt like being ruined all over again, seeing how damaged he was.
Kiero's different. The rebuilding process started the second they snatched him up out of the arena.
It'll be good for him. For them all. It really will.
The entirety of the next chapter is Kiero's POV, I promise I'm not neglecting him.
So, I'm just gonna start off with a few basics:
A lot of people have been asking about Mayday. Fact is, I have so much stuff to do in the next month that I'm probably going to go into cardiac arrest. I'm going to hold off starting Mayday until about mid-December, which is when it'll be published and submissions will open. I understand that's a little ways away - so if you want to be notified of when it starts, please say so in a review and I'll PM everyone who does when it's published. Feel free to start coming up with basic tribute ideas if you want, but nothing's really happening for about a month.
Because of the mass quantity of shit I have to do, I'm almost certain the last chapter won't be posted next week. I don't know when I'm going to be finished it. It will be before Mayday, but if it takes a few weeks, be patient with me. I'm also working on a type of one-shot for the babies of this story, that I'll probably publish sometime between the last chapter of this and the publication of Mayday. So, look out for that, if you're interested.
Thanks to those that have stuck around this far. Really, I appreciate it.
Until next time.