Outskirts of District Two; former Sentinel base.

Rooke Arvelle, 16 years, District Nine Male.

"I really don't wanna go in there?" I try.

"That's nice," one of them says. Linnet, I'm almost sure, but I've learned so many names in the past ten minutes that I'm sure by the end of the day I'll have forgotten them anyway. They said they had things to tell us, like this is just a regular old storytime, so if I retain anything from these moments I'll be shocked. It's hard to, when I've stared two people in the face today who should both arguably be dead - because I know for sure that I watched one die and shouldn't the other one have carked it by now, with the Capitol hunting him the past five years?

You'd have thought. But apparently what I think really isn't all that valid anymore.

I only know one thing, shoved in somewhere between my initial terror when I turned around and them trying to herd us off into a place where we could actually sit down. But it's that one thing that sticks, where I find nothing else will.

The President's dead, someone had said. The President's dead, the President's dead, the President's dead.

Maybe we're in less trouble than we thought.

It comes to all of us sitting in front of all of them, trying to calm our racing hearts while trying not to stare at all the weapons, the guns that I'm so sure will go off any second. If they decided they were in the mood to kill us they would. No chance of us surviving it. The only thing convincing me that we're safe at this point is Seren, but if she's walking around with them, then maybe not.

"What do you want to know?" one of them asks. Already forgotten his name.

"We get to ask questions?" Vance wonders, and all of us look around at each other.

"Alright, I'll start," I say nervously. "How the hell are you alive?"

Meritt's still lurking in the doorway, and out of the corner of my eye I keep expecting him to vanish. It's unsettling enough without him being there. It's worse that he is.

"Of all the things, that's what you want to know?"

"Capitol voodoo magic," Arker says, but that's not his name, his name is Luca, and for some reason knowing that makes me deeply uncomfortable, when most of the country doesn't. It feels like something I shouldn't know.

Meritt shrugs, and someone else snorts. "I mean, he's not wrong."

I'm with Rory on this one, for once in my life. My head hurts. Judging by the expressions of everyone else around me they're in the same boat, or at least on their way. The real question is, do I even want to know? He's not denying the fact that he was dead. It's not out of the realm of possibility; the Capitol does all sorts of things no one knows about. With access to what they have, maybe bringing someone back is just another weekend afternoon.

Or maybe it was much, much worse than that. But I'm not about to ask that one.

"Maybe just start from the beginning," Dimara suggests. "Considering Blair hasn't been very helpful in explaining since this all started."

Blair gives her a thumbs up, even though Seren's still holding onto his arm and someone else is examining the stump, which is pretty much the extent of why I'm choosing not to look that way. At least this guy looks like he knows what he's doing, as opposed to Dimara's literal hack job. I'm surprised Blair's even still talking to her, after that.

"I only knew exactly what I told you," he says, and Seren shushes him.

"He's right, though," Luca says. "He only knew the basics, just in case something went wrong. But everything went better than expected. Shocking, considering we knew that it could happen at any second and we'd have to be ready for it. Even more shocking considering we had convinced ourselves that we'd have nine dead bodies instead of you guys."

"So that was the plan?" Celia asks. "Either Blair randomly decides to listen or the Gamemakers kill us all? It was them, right?"

"Their idea, yes. The arena only worked if they were all on-board, but the longer it went on the riskier it grew. Even if you all died, it was still a means to an end. We could still put everything in motion."

"That's nice," Celia deadpans. "Thanks for picking option one, Blair."

He gives another thumbs up. Sitting here now I can't imagine all of us dead, floating bodies in the water or sinking down to the bottom. I don't want to imagine that, but that's what it would've come to. All nine of us dead so they could change things for good. All twenty-four of us, at the end of the day.

"Our job was to get everyone out of the Capitol, and then find you guys," Luca says. "They did the rest. The arena, spending the past few years making sure the Districts would be under control, getting the President out of the picture. They got a hold of us five months after the 155th - when the government realized we were alive. By then they had already brought Meritt back, but it took Cambria another year and a half to get the information. We got him back six months later. That was part of the agreement - the Capitol didn't want us attacking them, so they gave him back to us. That was all Cambria too. She's ballsier than I would've given her credit for."

"Did you not shoot her husband in the head five years ago?" Nadir asks.

"I never said she liked me," he points out. "Funny how things work, isn't it?"

"And so much for not attacking the Capitol," Celia picks up. "How are you all not dead?"

"I mean," Meritt starts, and someone nudges him into the hallway, before he can finish the sentence. Sniper guy, who doesn't look too impressed with him at the current moment. Someone starts up laughing again, and I need to give them credit for laughing in a situation where they shouldn't be laughing at all. Maybe that just is their normal.

"Ignoring him," someone else says. I only know her name is Alessia because she's the one that first started trying to calm us all down. "We had insides on the Capitol for years. We were never in any danger from the Peacekeepers, either. They got control over most of them too, over a year ago. The Districts are all calm right now, for the most part, because of that. Besides the Capitol, things outside of this room right now are looking good."

"And what's going on in the Capitol?"

"It's up to the Vice President to step down and give control of the city to us. He doesn't need to be executed. Enough people have died for this already, we don't need to start racking up the numbers again. Call it a show of good faith."

"Boring," Linnet says.

"But he won't?" I guess, and Alessia looks right at me.

"Not as of yet. Either he's much more resilient than we gave him credit for, or he's got a reason to believe that he's going to win this."

"And what would that reason be?"

"That's the part that we're unsure of," Luca interrupts. "But I've got an idea - and Meritt thinks the same thing. I wish it was more unlikely, but I know for a fact that we weren't the only survivors from the bombs. And when you spend two and a half years in the Capitol, you hear shit. Between the two of us, we're pretty sure we know why Quinn thinks he's safe for the time being. And I don't blame him for thinking it."

Whatever it is, I don't want him to say it. I'd rather live in ignorant bliss for the time being. Luca doesn't sound scared, I'm not sure if he even could if he tried, but he looks worried. Not a thing I thought I'd ever come to associate with him.

This is better than I could have imagined. Nine is okay. My family, my friends, they're all okay.

So what if I'm not, not totally? I'm alive. That's more than most people get to say.

I guess we'll see if it's worth it, or not. Because judging by the sound of his voice, I'm not entirely sure.

Blair Carnell, 18 years, District Two Male.

I feel a lot like someone screwed my head on backwards.

At least everyone else looks the same way, so I don't feel that bad about it. I wasn't lying - I knew next to nothing, about all of this. I just had the luck, or whatever you want to call it, to be the one that knew. To be the one to do it.

Most people probably wouldn't consider that luck at all. They'd consider it a misfortune. It kinda feels like one, with someone I don't even know poking around at where my arm used to be.

"I don't even know who you are," I say, and he makes a noise.

"I told you my name five minutes ago." He doesn't even look up from where he's shifting the bandages out of the way, poking and prodding around where I don't want him prodding.

"I was supposed to remember that?"

"Mac."

"Mackenzie," Seren says easily, still holding onto my arm.

"Mac," he insists, and then pokes his finger into something that actually hurts. "It looks like someone took a chainsaw to this."

"Close enough," I mutter. I'm just glad that I at least passed out for some of it, even if it wasn't the whole thing. I still remember it, though, mind fogged over or not. I don't think I'll ever be able to get rid of the memory, as much as I want to. If I could blur out this whole thing I probably would.

"Do you want something?" Mac asks. "Not anything to knock you out, but it should at least help with the pain."

"Do you actually have something?" I ask, probably just this side of too eager. Sue me.

"Not on me, but I can go get something from the car. Karsi might need something for Vance anyway."

All of that jumbles into my head, a mixture of a car and I don't remember exactly who Karsi is either but she's probably the one fiddling with what I've unfortunately learned is the slice from a pair of scissors in Vance's leg. If I could see it from here, it would be appreciated. Looking at anything better than what I've currently going on would help. Seren settles a bit more firmly down by my side once Mac leaves, dwindling the numbers in the room even further. I don't know where everyone else has wandered off to, but I'm not going to complain about it.

"There are cars?" I ask, about the dumbest question I can manage, but it's all my brain can put together.

"Well, we didn't walk here," she says, and I probably should've realized that. "And we aren't going to make you guys walk out of here either."

"You're taking us back," I say quietly, and she nods. Across the room Vance looks up from where he had been telling Karsi something, eyes narrowed. I don't know how much he can hear.

"Can't live in the woods forever."

"You did."

"Four and a half years isn't forever. And we weren't in the woods the whole time."

"No, you were just planning all this, I've realized." Admittedly it took me longer than I'd like to admit to figure it out. I should've known that it was more complicated than her just disappearing for all that time; we all should have. And maybe there are people that did, like the President. If she did figure it out it's too late now. For everyone else, too.

She sighs. "We're going to take you back to Six. That's where we've been - that's where we sent the Gamemaking team too. Mac should be able to... I don't know, help, at least, once we're there. There's not anything we can do out here. We've got a whole set up there, though, and he's been taking care of us for years. He can make this easier for you."

Well, it would be nice, I'm not going to lie. Anything to make it easier.

"And you'll take everyone else back home?"

"Yeah. It's where they need to be. The Districts are stable enough to send them back; like Luca said, we've got the majority of the Peacekeepers too. We'll probably split up and stay with you guys for a while, just to make sure. But it should be fine."

"Should be," I murmur, and Vance is still looking at us. He's probably heard enough by now that he's realized home is suddenly a real and distinct possibility. The more time we spent out here the less plausible it seemed. I wouldn't have been surprised to spend the rest of my life out here, if I'm being honest. And I think we could've done it too, the nine of us. It's ridiculous to think about.

"How long has it been?" I ask.

"A week."

"And what about the Vice President?"

"That's not for you to worry about," she says quickly. "It's not. I don't want you thinking about it. You've done more than enough."

It would be easier if I could just stop thinking about it, then. Hopefully whatever drugs he brings back shuts my brain down too, at least for a little while.

"Why me?" I ask finally, and I sound way too woe is me for just a second, but that's not what I mean, and Seren knows it too. There's a lot of things I could ask. More questions about how this all came together, about what happened while we've been out here, surviving on our own. But right now none of that really matters. Not to me.

"You know, I spent six months wondering who would be the better option," she tells me. "Rufus wouldn't even talk to me. I think he had some of the natural suspicion that Cicely had, that something wasn't right. For nearly the whole time it was going to be Anya, because I knew Rufus wouldn't hear me out. That, or he'd run to the nearest person available to listen and get me killed. At least with Anya I thought there was a chance."

"So what changed?"

"Someone not named Rufus walked onto the stage, and Cicely took Anya, because even though she was young at least she chose her. And I ended up with you."

The laugh bubbles up before I can stop it, and someone's probably going to think I'm insane, but I can't help it. All because I beat him up there, because Julian nearly had a throwdown with him two rows back long enough to distract him. Because Anya left the train car that day and ten minutes later Seren shattered everything I thought I knew. Because of reasons that aren't really reasons at all, when you look at them the right way.

Seren looks at me. "Yeah, I think you need drugs."

I lean my head back against the wall, swallowing my next laugh, and she squeezes my arm.

"It was worth it," I manage. "It really was."

"Was it?"

It doesn't seem like it, not to someone on the outside looking in. I know what she sees. Someone who she ripped apart by accident because she put the responsibility on their shoulders, someone who's currently half-broken and now laughing about it. There's so many people I could blame for this, her being the first, but I can't do it. She wasn't trying to hurt me.

She was trying to save me.

I nod. "Yeah. It was."

Rory Mirevale, 17 years, District Four Male.

The sun is out for once.

It feels ten times easier up here, less crowded, more space to breathe. Only one of them followed me up here, but he's made no effort to talk to me, or get up in my space. Probably for the best, right now.

I only came up here because I watched some of them disappear into the woods and come back with vehicles. More than enough to transport them all here, and maybe us. But I'm not about to get that hope in my head, not before someone tells me otherwise. One of the guys comes back from the car, the one that was looking at Blair, with a bag full of stuff, but he too skirts around me. Not pressing too hard.

I don't know what I'd do if they did.

There's murmuring down the stairs behind me, and the one that followed me up here crosses over to where one of the girls is still digging through the back of one of the cars, talking without me hearing them.

The door creaks again and finally Vance emerges, stepping out into the sunlight.

"You're good?" I ask, a little surprised. I expected them to fuss over him more. He just shrugs, staring out at the cars, and shoves his hands in his pockets. He's still limping, but if he's in any pain, he's not letting it show.

"They're taking Blair out to Six."

"What? When?"

"Now, I think. As soon as they give him something. Probably can't afford to waste any more time out here."

Blair shouldn't have been out here from the get-go, not the way he is, but there wasn't anything we could do about it. So why am I so concerned, now that someone's finally taking him some place safer? Somewhere where he can actually get help?

I know why. It's the same reason why we all instinctively moved closer together when they showed up. Even against all odds we've grown closer when we probably shouldn't have. Having him go off on his own, even if he technically isn't, is against everything we've been doing. I don't think anyone's going to be too eager to let him go. It doesn't help that the rest of the world is still a mystery to us - just because they explained what they could doesn't mean it's any easier, to imagine what it's like now.

"What about us?" I ask.

"They're taking us back home."

The words alone are nearly enough to make me cry, and Vance looks at me.

"Please don't," he says. "If you cry then I'll probably start crying and someone's going to come up here and wonder what the fuck we're doing."

I dig the heels of my hands so hard into my eyes that it hurts, but it's enough to push the feeling back. I know standing here that it's just a matter of time. If Vance is right then Blair will be up here in minutes. Less than that, probably. They'll take him off and then we'll be down to eight, and then be ripped apart entirely. I'll have to exist in a place that isn't this, and it feels like we've spent so much time adjusting to this that anything else will seem too weird to live in.

And to think, that two weeks ago I thought I'd be dead by now.

"You have family? Friends?"

"Family, yeah," he responds. "We'll see if I still have friends."

It's different for me than it is him. I knew what I was getting into - the people I trained with had to envision me as a killer for years, even if it seemed near impossible. But no one he grew up with ever imagined him doing the things he did. I don't know what it's like, to have to get past that.

But he's gotten past it here. We all have, because we didn't really have a choice.

We've all had to be a part of things we didn't want to, and can still call each other friends. It doesn't seem like a weighty enough word, but I don't know what else to call it.

Kelsea's the next one up the stairs, followed closely by Celia and Dimara. It doesn't take long for Rooke to follow, and then Tanis and Nadir. Judging by everyone's face they've heard it too, at least enough to know.

"I'm coming with you guys," Kelsea says, walking up to my side. "They've only got four cars, so they kinda have to split us up the best they can."

I wouldn't say she looks nervous; I just think she doesn't want to leave Vance. It makes sense, even if we don't want to know. They'll get us home faster that way, instead of just driving in circles wondering who to drop where. Some places are closer than others. That's just how it works, even if we don't want it to. At least I have Celia, though. It's different for me. Nobody else has someone to go home with.

"Gonna be a long fucking car ride," Nadir mutters, staring out at them. "And I'm the one that has to stop in Six to let Blair off before they take me back to Twelve. I'm gonna die in the back of the car."

"No, I am," Blair insists. He's mostly upright as he comes out the door, but I'm attributing that to the fact that Seren's under his arm and is guiding him along. If not for that, I'm sure he'd have stumbled into one of us by now.

"Are you ever going to stop joking about that?" Dimara asks.

"Nope," he emphasizes. "At least I feel better now."

"Drugs tend to have that effect," Rooke says, but I don't think he has the energy to come up with any sort of witty reply. At least he looks better now, in less pain than before. Anything to keep up with that. It'll probably be much easier to survive a car ride with him if he's content with himself.

"Who's giving me a hug?" he asks instead, apparently completely uncaring of what Rooke just said. If he even heard him.

"I'm not," Tanis says flatly. "I'll give you a fistbump."

"Why do I need to give you a hug?" Nadir continues. "I'm going to be in the same car as you."

No one else is, though, so it's not really a surprise that Dimara steps forward to hug him first, and Celia steps in before she's even fully let go. Tanis does indeed give him a fistbump, and once they've managed to lift him up and wrangle him into the back of the car even Kelsea steps up onto the running boards to lean in and hug him too.

I'll have to go over there eventually. He'll give me shit about if I don't, whenever that would even be. I don't know when I'll next see them, besides Celia.

It's a scarier thought than I imagined it would be.

Vance Derora, 16 years, District Eight Male.

The sight of them driving away is oddly terrifying.

It shouldn't be. They're going to help him, and for the time being Nadir's still with them. It's not like anything is going to happen. It doesn't matter whether or not we trust these people, because none of us are anywhere near where Blair's been at for days now. We shouldn't get a say.

That doesn't make it any easier to hug the two of them and then watch the car disappear into the trees a minute later.

Just like that, we're down to seven.

I slip away from the group and find myself headed back down the stairs. It's silent. I know for a fact that there's no one left down here; there's no point. Everything's been packed up, all the weapons and the food, everything we had to call our own the past little while. There's nothing left down here for any of us.

Well, there's one thing. And it almost makes me laugh.

That stupid jar of radishes is still sitting in the corner of the room where I left it, when they forced us all in here to sit down and listen to them. That was the last thing I needed to hold onto during all of that - in fact, I had forgotten about it, up until this moment. When it's this quiet, though, it's easy to remember the little things. And it's too quiet down here. I'm used to hearing the sounds of someone else tromping around or the voices of several people all at once, yelling or complaining or just screwing around in general. The silence is almost alarming. It makes me feel like we're already separated.

I pick up the jar anyway and pop it open. There's no way this is going to stick, or last longer than a few days. This isn't an art supply, no matter what Kelsea says, no matter what Rooke tries to insist.

It'll make me feel better, though, to leave something here. It's not like we'll be back here, probably ever. I won't know if it disappears or not.

I'm halfway through the circle when I hear more footsteps coming down the stairs, surprising me. I'm surprised anyone even noticed I was gone, or maybe they're just thinking the same thing I am. Get five more minutes in here, where we started feeling safe for the first time in a while.

"You can't just put a V on there," Tanis says from the doorway. "What about the rest of us?"

I smile as I finish putting it through the center of the circle. "Can stand for whatever you want."

"Shouldn't say that," she says. "One of us is going to come up with something weird."

Probably. In fact, I'd bet on it.

"Kelsea's looking for you," she says. "Stop screwing around with radishes."

The sound of her headed back up the stair is clear but I still stand there for a second longer, watching it drip down the wall, before I head back out into the hallway and close the door behind me. Who knows, maybe it won't fade. Maybe someone several years from now will end up wandering down here and see it themselves, and wonder what the hell went on here.

Kelsea's holding the door at the top of the stairs open, still, and I watch Tanis step back out onto the grass, quickly following after her. I think now that Nadir's gone she doesn't really know what to do, judging by the look on her face. Kinda like how Rooke's looked this entire time except for now, apparently, where he's leaning up against the little bit of wall that's still holding the door up. For once he doesn't look nervous. It's a nice change.

"Bad time to go missing," he says, and I roll my eyes.

"Got a weird definition of missing," I say, and somehow still managed to be surprised when he steps forward to hug me. It's almost exactly what Nadir said, and I know that Rooke's perfectly aware that the two of us are going together, because home isn't that far off for us.

I think I get it though, the way I'm starting to get a lot of things. And I can't not hug him back either.

"Thanks," he says. "For trying to make this easier."

Trying to make this easier, when I was the one that killed two people where he killed no one. But it's given me something to devote my attention to, when Kelsea's not hovering over me to make sure I'm not two seconds from crying. And sure enough, the second Rooke lets go she's on me, not even giving us enough time to separate. I feel like I've gotten far too many hugs, but I can't complain about it. Not when we both need it.

"This is weird," she mumbles into my shoulder. She's right. It's going to be. We're all going to have to force ourselves back into our normal lives, what we had before.

If all of that even still exists. I wasn't lying, when I said I'd have to see what's still waiting back in Eight for me.

"This isn't it," I tell her. "It's not."

I can't let this be it. I can't let all of these past few days amount to nothing, in the long run. That doesn't feel right. Her arms tighten around my back, hands interlocked, but having a little bit less breath than usual isn't scary, for once.

"It's not," I say, even quieter. "I promise."

Hopefully this cleared some things up. If not, well. Oops.

Big thank you everyone for 200 reviews, because I didn't say it last week. Seeing that number made me very happy.

Unrelated but just as wild: a few months back I made a very bad decision and started working on an AU that is mainly centered around the 9, most predictably, but that will include a lot of the other deado kids from this story down the line. I posted the prologue on AO3 this past week. If anyone's interested in that at all, feel free to hit me up for a link.

Until next time.