On schedule, can you believe that! ;D
Thanks for the reviews and sorry for the mixup. The Capitolite who owns Ruben is called Syrianus (not Sylvanus).
Year Eleven, September, three weeks after the end of the eleventh Hunger Games.
«Where does this come from? » Mags exclaimed, staring in horror at the disaster before her.
Instructors Andromeda and Rio Bones had politely complained about the humidity in the building, afraid their children would get sick but Mags had never expected to find the future mess-hall in such a state.
An inch of filthy rain water covered the new tile floor, oozing down from the bloated ceiling into the walls.
"The ceiling's slanted, shaped like a U," Mr. Durante said, uneasiness making his hands twitch. "We added gutters but the rains were so heavy these last weeks that they all clogged up and now we have…"
"A half ton of water over our head and it's infiltrating the beams," Mags finished, her lips pursed in a thin line. "Strip the ceiling in a way that doesn't flood the whole building, dry this mess up, and you'll give it an intelligent shape as soon as I'll have ordered and received the material."
The stocky overseer frowned. "I'm sure we can fix it without-"
"No," Mags replied flatly. "This isn't a race. Adding gutters or other is lazy. The old factory wasn't built efficiently, so we'll rebuild parts of it until it's solid and durable."
Sometimes Mags wondered if they shouldn't have built everything from scratch. Even the old power network was so hazardous they'd had to almost redo everything.
"I thought you wanted to keep costs low. It'll take us months." Durante's tone was not quite upset.
Mags forced herself not to look disapproving or condescending lest she upset him further. Whenever she told people to be more efficient and waste less material, you'd think from their reactions that she wanted money to hoard private parties or something. She wanted the money to be well spent, and fixing a roof up properly was definitely important.
And this was Durante, one of the most competent people at her disposal…
"We'll take the time necessary." She breathed in. "None of you figured the gutters might not be enough?"
"Yes, but we didn't have bigger ones to add and we weren't told to add more," one of the workers said. "We'd have had to put the scaffolding back to do big work on the roof. It's not my fault."
It never was.
A year ago, Mags would have nodded patiently and established more precise constructions plans detailing everything the workers had to pay attention to. After all, almost everyone who worked for her was untrained and couldn't be expected to do everything right.
Six months ago, Mags would have shouted at the man. The constructions plans were available and she'd made it clear it was everyone's responsibility to bring up problems, even minor ones, up before a whole roof had to be taken down, and they were losing an insane amount of time and money on avoidable mistakes. It would have taken them less than two days to put the scaffolding back up, damn it!
Now she just locked her jaw, resigned. "At the next meeting, please make sure everyone checks the other roofs for similar problems, Mr. Durante."
When she had given work to almost anyone willing in order to erase the extreme poverty that had followed the rebellion, she had been naive enough to think that anyone motivated and hardworking could become competent. She'd abolished quotas and paid them a fixed salary before remembering that this was Creneis Town, where working more than strictly necessary meant lining the Capitol's pockets and where things weren't meant to last.
Why spend twice the time on a task just to make it a little better? People didn't bother learning to be perfectionists. They'd fix it eventually if something went wrong…
She needed to get some air before she started hating everyone with her unrealistic expectations.
Who was she to ask brilliance of the former unemployed of Creneis? She should be happy that they deferred to her, worked ten hours a day and would eventually get the academy built.
"These things take time, Mags, you need to relax," Marquise said, a hand on her shoulder. "I'm really impressed that the lessons have started already and that the instructors all have a home."
"They'll take even more time if I stop breathing down their neck," Mags said, unable to take things so lightly. "I can't motivate them more than I do, they think I'm being bull-headed about getting everything done precisely like the plans say, that I don't know it'll take time because some of the tools aren't adapted and…" Mags kicked at the ground and winced in pain as she twisted her toe. So much for staying calm. "How can I make them understand that doing it well matters?"
"Sack those who don't," Marquise said, lifting her eyes skywards.
Mags snorted. "I'm sacking two-thirds if I do that. I don't want to lower salaries and I won't sack unless someone's endangering others or truly doing nothing."
"Want us to say there's a law that forces you to sack so you're not the bad guy here?" Marquise said, shaking her head, "this is insane, stop hiring useless people."
"There will be a Capitol inspector soon, I'm afraid you won't have to," Mags said glumly. She hoped whoever Achlys sent wouldn't have ridiculous demands. "And no, this is about changing the way people think too. I want them to want to do things well, to learn that okay is not enough if you can do good."
Marquise laughed. "Why do you think peacekeeper exams are competitive back home? If there was a passing grade, everyone would just get a pass and not try harder. With only the ten best of a class of thirty getting in second year of training, everyone has to do their best."
"I thought there was a high demand of peacekeepers." Mags said, frowning. "Two-thirds don't even make it to second year?"
"Some people just won't do. They don't want crap peacekeepers. You've seen the pups," the blonde said, lowering her voice in case one of her newly rotated first-assignment colleagues overheard. "Imagine what the ones who failed were like. You just hired anyone who wasn't a cripple or retarded," Marquise said with a laugh. She draped her arm over Mags' shoulder. "What did you expect, Woman? Sailors won't become super project managers because you bat your eyelashes at them."
Mags chuckled. "Mama did try to warn me… "
She straightened and turned towards the building housing the few competent managers she had found. Those poor people were supposed to find an effective ways to get the right people working with each other in the right place and have everyone doing something all day long, but often spend half their days solving urgent business which meant more problems cropped up every day.
"I'm going to start giving day offs to those who do good work," she decided, "give public acknowledgments of competence and hope people's egos do the rest of the job."
Surprise followed by pride illuminated Marquise's face. She stopped walking to beam at Mags.
"Look at you," she said. "Two years ago you dragged your feet and blushed at the thought of asking anything of strangers, and now you're ordering people around, manipulating them into becoming becoming useful, and no one even grumbles." A wry smile broke her full lips. "We'll just have to pretend that working fourteen hours a day is reasonable for the great victor."
"I need this to work," Mags said, her throat tightening. "That's why I put myself through all… everything. Can't I have a low unemployment in the town but with people being at least decent at what they do? Surely everyone's decent at something useful."
Marquise laughed again, earning herself a playful punch on the shoulder. Mags just couldn't brood when that woman was around.
"Time is short, we need to stop chatting," she said with a grin, breaking into a run towards FLASH's temporary headquarters under the workers' amused stares.
She liked running, it made her feel fit and more useful. The old school acquaintances she had hired had nicknamed her 'White Rabbit' and even gifted her with a small clock on a chain when she'd playfully called them out. Sometimes she feared the madness Alice had seen in Wonderland was a very real allegory of her life.
Mags let her mind wonder as her and Marquise ran on the layers of bare reefs. She knew ever natural step and jagged hole by heart.
She leapt over a small ledge, her eyes on the lightning-marked gates.
Her leg twisted.
Mags cried out as something snapped in her knee. The shovel she had slipped on clattered further down the reefs.
Her leg screaming in pain, Mags blinked tears out of her eyes, scrambling for something to hold on to.
Her heart beat slowed as Marquise's solid grasp cleared her mind. Safe, she was safe. She ground her teeth as she forced herself back up.
A sandy-haired boy and three older people were staring at them, their half-eaten wrapped meals at their feet and eyes wide in horror.
"Are you okay?" He whimpered.
More lightning pain shot up Mags' legs. There was no way she could walk back home on her own. Her eyes fell on the shovel. She was going to murder the cleaning crew.
"Cretinos," she accused, "You think instructions are for others? That you know better and that your time is too precious to bother about safety? Should I be the ones putting your brooms and shovels away?"
Mags gasped for breath, her face red from shouting and the pain. Every week there were accidents because people couldn't be bothered to wear the uncomfortable helmets or use the scaffoldings properly. She did her utmost best to have things secure and too many all but gave her the finger upfront.
She cried out again, having accidently put weight on her wounded leg.
"Miss Mags, you knees is-"
"Hurting something fierce, and I don't have the money to pay for a stay in their regenerative machine and the workers. Brilliant," she cursed.
She couldn't afford to stay home until she recovered! She had important stuff to do and this was how they repaid her? She was the reason they had a house, the reason they weren't starving and they couldn't move one shovel out of the bloody way? Circe, her knee hurt!
"The four of you are sacked. I'm tired of doing charity. Get out of my sight," she growled, not caring about their slack-jawed expressions.
They should have done their jobs had they wanted to keep it.
"Let's get you home, Miss Mags. We'll deal with them later," Marquise whispered, but Mags was too angry to pay much heed.
Her falling and shouting had attracted the attention of Legend and the two new 'pups' in her guard, Dario, a short but sharp-looking nineteen year old and the bull-necked Camilla, who seemed rather soft for such an intimidating woman.
"Move it, you little shits," Dario echoed, shoving on of the now sick-looking youths forward. "Next time, rather than polishing your family jewels, you'll keep your hands out of your undies and do some fucking work."
"It's 'polishing the pearl' in Four," Camilla corrected with a thoughtful frown.
"There's no need to push them around," Marquise snapped, "training's over and watch your speech."
"Stop pretending you're something, blondie," Dario replied, straightening in warning. "I saw your file. You're hardly fancy, your father bred filthy rats." He gave the voluptuous blonde a bold once over pausing on her full red mouth. "You sure you didn't choose the wrong job?"
"Chinchillas aren't rats," Marquise hissed through clenched teeth. "And you are going to spend the most miserable three years of your life if you say one more word on my father."
Mags was seeing double from the pain, the argument piercing through her pounding ears. Why couldn't they get along and stay quiet?
She'd had a functioning peacekeeper team, why in heaven had they had to rotate?
"Shut up, Dario," she snapped before the two could continue insulting each other. "I don't care about peacekeeper power plays, but give Marquise one reason to complain to me, and you'll be moved to District Eleven's compost grounds before the end of the week. She's proven herself, you're no one. Don't blow your chance to leave Creneis with a recommendation."
"Listen to her, pup," Legend sternly intervened, stepping up between the younger peacekeepers. "The Sergeant does and you're no better than him."
Dario dropped his gaze, struggling to rein in his temper. "Sorry, it won't happen again."
Circe her knee hurt.
Year Eleven, September, three weeks after the eleventh Hunger Games.
Mags bit back a moan of pain when she reached the door, her hands white on the crutches.
Ruptured ligaments and the best treatment she could afford still had her spending a week at home. It had been almost twenty-four hours, and she couldn't do it. Every time she tried to sit down and relax, she felt ill. She had to go to the academy and get some work done.
She winced. Even without putting her leg down, it hurt. She couldn't take painkillers because of her regular treatment despite Dr. Alexanders having reduced her daily intake of meds, not unless she wanted to be stuck in bed with severe drowsiness.
"You're not going outside," Esperanza chastised, "I'm taking the crutches and letting you crawl if you keep doing this to yourself."
"I need to go see what they're doing. The new orders for Seven and Two have been drafted –"
"Mama can handle that."
Mags huffed, waving one of the crutches impatiently. "I need to coordinate the teams to get the septic tanks installed or they'll never do it properly, and if I don't supervise while they're building that diversion canal to keep the high tide water well away the academy, they'll dig too narrow and shallow or collapse the reef and we'll have to start again."
"It'll have to wait, you can't walk down to town like this."
"No," Mags snapped, her voice rising. "Winter's coming and I have almost fifty people living there, children too, they need proper bathrooms. We can't start delaying now."
A loud sigh escaped Esperanza's lips. "At worst they'll do it at someone else's house during the cold months, Sis. Even if you knock me out and manage to leave, Marquise will cart you back in bed."
Now that was ridiculous. "I won't have my throbbing knee be the reason kids got pneumonia because they needed to use the toilet at night in winter. I promised Mr. Codline I'd have time for him today, there's a problem with the windows and the some of the boilers," Mags began to pace –more like a hobble- in sheer frustration, "and I need to see the idiots I thoughtlessly sacked."
"Make us a list, I'll get Marquise to supervise you, and I'll go with Glynn, Mama, Caspian, or the actual people who you pay to do those jobs to do them," Esperanza said with a smile, "It'll be fine, Mags."
"No it won't," Mags exclaimed. "There's been enough of delays already. When I came back from the Capitol –"
Mags stopped her animated objections and tore her eyes away from the town below, when she realized her sister had left the room.
"Yes, she's sweating from the pain, pale as a ghost and completely crazy," the fourteen year old was whispering on the phone.
"Who are you calling?"
Esperanza put the phone down and glowered. "Get back in bed, now," she said, and Mags almost gave in, recognizing her mother in that stare.
Instead she tightened her hold on her crutches. There were a million things to do and they were wasting time. She'd stayed idle enough, she wouldn't have the constructions stop because she was uncomfortable. "You'll move –"
"I'm not taking those," her little –and now taller than her- sister said, her voice rising, "because you'd fall down and it'd hurt worse, but if you don't sit down, now, or I swear I'm calling Ajax and having him bring chains."
"Don't be ridiculous, -"
"I am being ridiculous? Me?" Esperanza now screamed, her face flushed with ire. "You're in so much pain you can't walk and I'm being ridiculous? They'll work without you for once!"
"I can walk," Mags ground out. Her sister was wonderful, but much too sensitive.
"Really?" Esperanza challenged. She gave her a firm shove.
Mags cried out in surprise as she fell on her good side. She winced as the crutch dug in her side, announcing a dark bruise.
"Are you mad?" She gasped as Esperanza snatched her crutches, a guilty but set expression on her face.
"Crawl to the sofa, now," the fourteen year old ordered, "I can't believe you, Mags."
Furious, but with no other option, Mags crawled, clenching her jaw from the pain in her knee.
It was Cara Corduroy who came through the door.
Cara? Her sister thought she needed that kind of help?
A small surge of satisfaction bloomed inside Mags when Esperanza cringed at the dark glare she shot her.
"My knee hurts, I'm fine," she said tightly.
"No," Cara replied calmly, "we need to talk about what this academy, and work in general, represents for you, Mags. You're young, you've been in great shape, so we did little about it, but you'll kill yourself if you continue. You have a very insidious form of post-traumatic stress disorder."
Circe. "So now I need to be lazy to be branded sane?"
"Lazy?" Esperanza cried, "You –"
Cara grasped the girl's shoulder and smiled. "Please leave us, Esperanza. I'll phone if there's a problem."
"I'll get Marquise to guard the house and join Mama," the teenager said after a pause.
"I'm fine," Mags repeated as her sister ran out, wishing the crutches were closer. She loathed been stuck like this. She was going to go crazy.
Cara pulled out a chair and sat in front of her. "Mags, you will explain to me calmly what you intend to do today considering your physical limitations."
"This is an utter waste of time." She hated to see Esperanza so worried and upset, but she had urgent matters to attend to. Nanorobots were knitting up her ligaments, she'd be fine. The rest was just due to the lack of painkillers.
"Describe your physical state to me in objective words and I'll let you go, I promise."
Resigned to humor the woman, Mags swallowed and took a second to listen to her body. The throbbing, burning, pain shot up to her stomach, taking away all appetite, her hands were numb and clumsy, trembling of their own accord. She was cold but flushed, sweat running down her face, and when she dropped her eyes she realized her knee had doubled size.
It shouldn't have. The meds said… the meds said not to move for five days after having injected the nanorobots.
The realization sent a shiver of fear down her spine. It was as if her mind had cleared. She was making it worse. She was being very, very stupid.
"We need to talk," she said, admitting defeat.
Year Eleven, September, a month after the eleventh Hunger Games.
"You're all hiding things from me, there's no way everything at the building site is fine," Mags grumbled.
She was beginning to hate that word too. Fine. What did it even mean?
Marlin rolled his eyes and grinned. "No, you're just beginning to realize that while some things are slower with you stuck in bed, the world is still spinning round."
"So how does it feel to be in bed with me?" Mags quipped, causing the boy to blush.
He was on rather than in to be fair. Marlin had come to visit, like Marquise, Glynn, Dylana -who was still slowly but steadily trying to conquer Caspian's heart, not that he had much of a clue- and even Old Gibbs had, keeping her company but never talking of FLASH. A part of her had to admit it wasn't so bad at all.
Three days she had spent in her room, writing down all the ideas she had to improve the Academy. It was something she'd lacked the time to do when she was always rushing around, and she'd also had some long, surprisingly deep, conversations with her sister, who reminded her every day now that there was a mile between twelve and fourteen years of age.
When she couldn't stand lying down anymore, she walked around the house and sat down under the sky, always with her notebook. It was the only work, that and half an hour a day of answering various questions from the workers relayed by Glynn or her mother, Cara had allowed her to do.
And Cara had been right, she was addicted, dangerously so. She'd cheated, by talking of Dario and the other new peacekeepers with Marquise instead, in order to find ideas to have them work together without fights erupting. It wasn't the Academy, but it was work all the same.
"If you really, really need a kid in six or seven years and my wife is okay, I'll make an effort," Marlin deadpanned.
Mags' eyebrows shot up. "Why Marlin, you think you'll find better than me?" She said, faking deep hurt. She tried not to think about those obligatory babies yet, or the Capitol technology that could have her avoid having to marry to meet the requirements of the law.
"It's your interfering great aunt Achlys who bothers me," he whispered, his expression slightly pained. He then brightened. "With luck though, she'll be dead by then, and I'd still be handsome," he said before pulling his sandy hair back to fake a receding hairline and puffing out his chest. "Think I'll look good twenty-six?"
Mags just stared.
They simultaneously broke into gales of laughter.
Year Eleven, September, two weeks after the eleventh Hunger Games.
Alone. It was the sixth day and she had to spend twenty-four hours alone, to see how far her anxiety went, apparently... She could walk without crutches now, limping rather pathetically, but steadily enough to go around the house. In two days, she would be fine.
It might be a plot not to tell her everyone's needed at FLASH because the whole thing was flooded, her treacherous mind whispered, urging her back inside, where the phone was.
Alone. She hadn't been alone so long since… She actually couldn't remember, but she'd always had someone around, either peacekeepers, family or friends, since her Games. She imagined shapes in the clouds above her, realizing she'd never taken the time to truly enjoy their large garden.
With little to occupy her mind, she struggled not to succumb to temptation and go turn on the television and silence the unnerving questions in her mind.
Mags stiffened and forced herself to stand up slowly when a suspicious noise reached her ears. Steps.
She knew it! There had been an emergency and now she had to get back to work!
She froze as a bearded man in his forties appeared. He was a complete stranger and no peacekeeper.
He didn't hesitate to meet her gaze. "A nice house you have here," he said, his voice deep and hoarse, as if he'd smoked all his life.
"Can I help you with something?" Mags said, hiding her suspicion behind a mask of polite interest.
"I need money." He smiled, his dark eyes cold. "And you'll give it to me."
He was alone and unarmed, standing almost a yard away from her, and yet Mags felt the first stirrings of panic tugging at her limbs. She forced it down despite the chilling reality of her weakened physical state. The man had none of the charisma or power of Evadne Achlys, he would not cause her to betray herself.
"Excuse me?" She said, her voice cool.
Cooler still was the concealed knife against her right leg.
"Making Four a self-sufficient District, pretending training Careers is your goal when you're instead trying to guarantee higher education for as many people as possible," he said, a disgusting smugness lacing his words. Accented words, but she couldn't place it. "You'd make Careers so smart they wouldn't want to play, Careers so smart they'd rather… rebel."
Mags paled. She had to keep him talking. "You have… interesting informants."
"I hear things. Snippets of unrelated discussions who together show big picture."
The victor raised her eyebrow and hoped she looked skeptical.
"Your sister was very small at the end of the war and yet she understands Spanish. Who taught her? That girl, Glynn, the peacekeepers with her were often convinced not to follow her, as if she had things to hide. A big interest in black markets too."
Mags swallowed. A talk with Glynn was definitely in order, but Glynn would never have mentioned Esperanza speaking Spanish.
Had that creep been spying on her sister? Diffuse panic crystallized into acute alertness.
This man was threatening her. He was threatening her family. Who was he?
"I think there should be an investigation. Or," he drew out, "I can shut up in exchange for compensation."
Mags frowned at the number he gave her. For a man who had planned it carefully, he was asking for little. Was he secretly desperate she accept? Could he be truly alone, with no one to share the money with?
She straightened, "What will you do with the money? People don't become rich overnight, it'll be suspicious."
"I'll have enough to put my affairs in order and enjoy my twilight years," he said with a shrug.
Yes, but not if he split it. She couldn't care less about his real motivations, only that he was alone and had told no one of this. Maybe this was a test? Orchestrated by a peacekeeper?
No, it wouldn't make sense, not when the man knew indeed enough not to need so underhanded means.
"And next year you come back and ask for twice the sum? Or a friend of yours comes saying the same exact thing?"
"What would I gain from backing you in a corner? I will let you play your game, I just want a piece of the cake," he said with another fake smile. He was beginning to twitch, as if he knew she was stalling. "I know better than to spill my secrets like you did."
Galene. That was it. Much less pronounced than Adria's accent, and the man was well spoken enough she hadn't made the connection before.
"Aren't I asking little?" the man suddenly exclaimed, his voice rising. "This is nothing compared to what what it'll cost to have Seven sell you machines so you can log your own forests for constructions!"
Mags' eyes narrowed. The fear locking her limbs in place melted away, replaced by sizzling fury.
Kyle. Bitter pain burned in her chest. She'd had that conversation with him, and only with him, when she'd been ignorant enough to think such a thing was possible. He knew they spoke Spanish and talked to Glynn whenever she went to Galene. What a fool she had been to trust that sweet boy.
"How can I give you the money?" She said slowly, struggling to keep her expression mild. "I don't keep stashes of cash around."
She couldn't risk it. If she paid and it was found out, they would execute her. By refusing, she could claim the accusations were ridiculous.
He closed the distance between them, boring his dark eyes in her. "Not if you call the bank in the Capitol."
Confirmation had Mags slowly lower her hand to her side. Her fingertips brushed against the concealed knife.
Kyle was one of the four who knew how she had tried to bluff with Esperanza's captors. He would not have betrayed her, but he wasn't clever or wise enough not to be manipulated.
She struggled to keep her breathing level. This man was threatening her. Worse, he was threatening the rebellion. Hundreds died every year, by the rope or the whip, taken by hunger when Capitolites got drunk carb-remover in their food, or illnesses that very simple medicine could cure.
What was the life of one man? A man who wished to destroy the one growing hope her people had at a decent future.
Her throat was dry as she gestured with her left arm towards the docks. "Very well, look over there," she said, adrenaline rushing to her limbs.
His lined face breaking into a triumphant smile, the distracted man saw too late the knife flashing towards his kidneys.
His startled scream cut across the silent cliff, ramming into her like a punishing strike. She fell to the side, as she tried to avoid been crushed by his limp form, eliciting a chorus of protests from her knee.
"Mags?"
Forgetting the pain in her leg, Mags scrambled to her feet, gripping the bloodied knife like a shield. She let it drop when she recognized the uniforms.
Camilla and Dario were crouched besides the man in seconds. He was unconscious but still alive, his body into shock. He would bleed out in minutes.
Mags shut her eyes, she should have known 'alone' didn't mean completely unsupervised. Evenso she couldn't have risked shouting for help, Dario could have asked for a formal interrogation.
"He was unarmed and said Patrol Leader Ajax had sent him to talk to you about the windows shipping from Galene, because there was an accounting discrepancy," Dario said loudly, upset. "We thought he was clean. We'd have come with him to make sure!"
Mags felt sick. "Get him off my lawn."
Would it be like that forever? Not going a single year without taking a life?
"Yes, Ma'am," the young peacekeepers whispered after a pause.
"You can get a large bag and buckets behind the blue door to the left, the hose is just there," she added tiredly.
What will Mama and Esperanza think?
"What did he want then?" Dario whispered, still ashen.
"Me dead," Mags whispered, the lie rolling off her tongue. "He just forgot I could kill too."
Year Eleven, September, a month after the eleventh Hunger Games.
Glynn all but rushed in less than half an hour after Mags had called her, concern creasing her face. "Two weeks, and those nineteen-year old peacekeepers are already having nightmares. Who was that man?"
Mags was glad the auburn-haired girl hadn't asked how she was.
"He knew too much, Glynn, I had to kill him," she said, her green eyes haunted. "He said you inquired on black markets, that it led him to believe we had… bad intentions."
Glynn's mouth opened in shock, and for a few seconds, no words exited her lips.
"Yes, but not like that," she finally managed, all color fleeing her face. "I checked the production and sales files to see if there were many 'lost' wares, I used what I know of production to see if for some reason a shop needed five layers of cloth to make two dresses instead of four, things like that." The young woman shook her head, her voice almost breaking. "Those files aren't illegal to access. I told the peacekeeper officer it was part of a routine check I had to make because our goal was to reduce criminality. None of them looked surprised, they look at those files too –or they should at least-. I didn't go around asking 'where can I buy a radio station?'"
No, of course she hadn't. But if this man had talked to Kyle… he knew all about what accounting could reveal. Glynn's face fell further when Mags said so.
"I'm sorry, I so sorry, Mags," she said, guilt bringing tears into her eyes. "I was careful, I was!"
Mags grasped her hand in comfort, mixed feelings assaulting her. Glynn's reaction proved her friend was trustworthy, and nothing was worth more to her right now.
"I know," she said, "we just have to be even more careful now. He can't be the only one who noticed the peacekeepers weren't always following you."
Glynn tore away from Mags, a furious hiss escaping her lips. "I can't corrupt them to have them on my side, can I?" She said, violently pushing a chair out of her way. "People don't think when they ask me questions, when they want to know why the Capitol won't strike you down. I stay vague, and they almost all accept it, because they do want to believe… They would never talk to me in front of peacekeepers." She snapped back towards Mags and lowered her voice. "I'll try to identify the body."
"I don't blame you, if anyone less competent had been doing what you did, I'd be dead already."
"Wonderful, I'm incompetent but less than the others."
"Glynn," Mags cut in. Now she was being ridiculous.
"Don't," Glynn snapped. "Thousands have died and thousands will die because the Capitol's greed has murdered its conscience, thousands will die when we rebel, innocent and guilty, mostly innocent and we…" Fear darkened Glynn's eyes. "It's only a matter of time before I too have to kill to cover up a slip, isn't it?" She said, her voice trembling.
Mags brought her knees to her chin, wishing she could disappear, swallowed up by the sofa. She wished she could promise Glynn that it'd never come to that.
She couldn't. "If it was easy, the world would already be fair," she whispered.
The short-haired young woman seemed to deflate. A wistful smile flitted over her lips as she sat back next to Mags. "I asked for this didn't I? For a world where death is a big deal," she stressed, failing at not to sound accusing, "and eight year olds don't know all the funeral chants by heart. We can't act without taking risks and dirtying our hands…"
Glynn raised her hand before Mags could say something. "I'll do it. We have to do it. Doing nothing under the illusion we are not responsible is more criminal than playing this game of human chess. I was just selfish enough to hope I'd exclusively have the fun and challenging…"
"Ambassador work?" Mags finished wryly.
"Exactly," Glynn said with a forced grin. Her grin fell. "Don't ever tell my mother of this. She doesn't believe in rebellion. She still thinks we'll work within legal bounds and stop everything if the Capitol decides we've been given too much leeway."
Mags nodded. Glynn had already warned her. Cara Corduroy was a huge asset but could never be fully included in their plans. "Don't ever think I take you for granted. I know what I'm asking, and I know it's hard." Her voice dropped. "And I know how lonely it gets…"
A chuckle escaped Glynn's lips. "Dad doesn't believe we're staying legal, he understands. He's just careful not to be too curious," she patted Mags' shoulder with a tight smile. "I'm still here, aren't I? Don't you ever doubt, Mags?"
Mags laughed. "About it being necessary? No. About being capable enough? All the time."
Year Eleven, September, a month after the 11th Games.
"I'm afraid we'll stay a little closer to you from now on, Mags," Marquise said. "But I don't think trouble will come from the barracks. The system is made so that peacekeepers can't plot on the side and the masterminds are rarely first-assignment teens or the ranker veterans of small district towns."
"So we're only in deep trouble if the chain of command stops supporting us," Mags commented, acid lining her tone.
With ten new peacekeepers rotating into Creneis every year, Mags knew that law enforcement would always be a problem. Limiting the abuse the more… enthusiastic of them could perpetrate already took an insane amount of effort.
"Buy the Lieutenant flowers, he'll be touched." Marquise replied with a wink. Her cheeky smile fell. "Sergeant Ajax confirmed Finley came by hovercraft but he had a pass. Whichever corrupt imbecile gave it to him is in Galene and it's even likely that they didn't know and didn't care why that man wanted to come."
Glynn had identified him, Mr. Finley, as the recently retired senior accountant of Galene, someone who had been Kyle's mentor there. Someone who had abused her former boyfriend's trust out of sheer greed.
Mags knew she should be grateful for her fury, for the damning soothing power of it. It was so easy to just hate.
Finley's motives had died with him and the green-eyed victor played the scene again and again in her mind, wondering how she could have handled it better.
Year Eleven, November, three months after the eleventh Hunger Games.
Mags, on her way home with Marquise and Camilla -who had to be the only female peacekeeper who got slightly along with the blonde-, turned around.
"Mags!"
"Mags," Caspian exclaimed, stopping dead in his run almost inches from her face and forgetting to lower his voice.
"Relax," the victor ordered, grasping his arms before he crashed into her.
"Glynn must still want to kill me," he panted.
Mags' eyebrows shot up at the exaggeration. "Something happened with the recruits?"
The first group of students, eight in total who Mags would most certainly not let volunteer, had arrived the week before, unfortunately at the same time as the dreaded Capitol inspector, the strikingly handsome but very uptight Bonifacius Darlington, who luckily didn't have a clue of what to look for and had just make sure the money wasn't been diverted and the syllabus appropriate for District Four. Mags had had people bow and scrape (not that the man had deigned to talk to anyone but Mags) and it had all gone just fine.
But she hadn't had the occasion to see Glynn or Caspian since.
"It's Achlys," Caspian hissed.
Mags' heart skipped a beat. "What?" She exclaimed, her head darting to the sides in case the woman was about to land in a hovercraft.
"She was in Lycorias at the same time as us," the young man hurriedly said. "I have no idea why, something involving the mayor, and I kind of abandoned Glynn when it was clear I wasn't the person she wanted to talk to, because, well –"
Achlys had been in Lycorias? Talking to Glynn?
"I'm learning that now?" Mags said, feeling now so stupid not to have read more into Achlys' questions during the Games.
"Glynn just received a letter from the Capitol, and she told me to get you," Caspian finished, before taking a huge breath.
"I'm just learning that now?" Mags repeated, this time in anger.
"It's the President who said to keep it quiet!" Caspian protested. "I do love life, Mags."
"Must we really walk all the way back?" Marquise complained.
Damn it!
Mags found Glynn sitting on the cold sand, staring at the waves.
"Wow, it's not even seven yet and you're not working?" Glynn joked, her smile brittle.
Seeing her friend like this, dark bags lining her attractive face, doubt shining clearly in her eyes, gave Mags the sudden urge to latch on to her, as if the moonlight would spirit her away.
"I'm going to the Capitol," Glynn finally announced, her eyes far away. "Apparently Madam President is convinced that I'm very good at my job."
I'm impressed Iacopo figured out Glynn would be 'hired'. Well done!^^
They whys and hows of it will be next chapter (obviously :D)
This chapter also answers a discussion I had with a reader about how Mags had been affected by her Games. I wanted to stress that while she isn't depressed nor has spectacular panic attacks, her day to day life is that of a hyperactive woman with issues, and it's been that way since book 2.
Yes, I get slightly annoyed when I'm told 'why didn't the Games leave any marks on her?'
Also, I cut a whole scene out about the "pups" and how peacekeepers behaved with the people in Four because it's was filler born of my desire to show absolutely everything, and I could write a whole book on peacekeeper interactions. If people are interested, I may either make it an outtake or include it somewhere, but otherwise, I'll try to focus on the more critical aspects.
And lastly, I was feeling a little sarcastic when I chose the title. If by chance anyone has a better idea...
Please review.^^
