Peeta Mellark, District Twelve Victor

Peeta's gaze flickered from the screen to the off switch of the television then back again. He could always stop watching the games. It was something he had done before. Most years he spent his time hiding from his tributes, hoping that not knowing them would make the death easier.

But this year, the tributes had come to him. They demanded he train them, pushed at his walls, and worked together. They had been in love, although neither of them seemed to want to admit it. Looking at them, Peeta felt like he was in two places at once.

Watching the broadcast felt similarly. Anthracite looked nothing like Katniss, she acted nothing like Katniss. She was sunny and warm and unaccustomed to the cruelty of life. And yet, she reminded him so much of the girl who haunted his dreams. As the three girls battled in the underground lake, Peeta felt like he was back in the cornucopia, as Katniss aimed a bow at his head.

No, that wasn't right. Was she aiming at him? His memories twisted and contorted, splitting off into multiple histories. Katniss tried to kill him that night. Or she had tried to save him. She was a monster. Or she wasn't.

Peeta looked back at the television just in time to see an arrow pierce Anthracite's heart. Katniss fell down in a heap, as the Katniss who fired the bolt shook from the cold. No, that wasn't right either. Katniss died nearly twenty years ago. He had done it himself. He could still see the look in her eyes as he choked the life out of her.

He was going in circles. This happened sometimes. He could get caught in his own thoughts, circling around like water down the drain. Yet there was something about Anthracite's lifeless form. For the first time in years, he felt like he could pull himself out of the chaos that was his mind. She had almost made it. It was the closest District Twelve had gotten to victory since his own games. And as much as he pretended otherwise, this year Peeta dared to hope.

The hope felt more like a memory than an emotion. Seeing the two tributes this year brought him back to his youth, back to when he was himself. He remembered sitting on the rooftop with Katniss, telling her that he didn't want the Capitol to take away who he was. They had, though.

No, it was Katniss who had taken things from him.

No. No that wasn't right.

Clarity hit him like a knife to the chest as he remembered, truly remembered. He remembered Katniss as a child, with two braids and the voice of an angel. He remembered the games, and their romance which was more fabricated yet more real than anyone knew. He remembered President Snow in his pristine white suit, threatening Katniss' life if he didn't do an interview with Caesar Flickerman to discourage the rebellion. And most of all he remembered the cold clean walls of the Capitol torture chamber where they loaded him so full of tracker jacker venom that he killed the girl he loved.

Peeta collapsed in a heap, shaking. He wanted to continue believing that it was the hijacking that caused him to be so unstable. But while the scars remained, that wound healed years ago. What truly kept him in torment was the truth. As much as he tried to forget, he had killed Katniss Everdeen, and the rebellion alongside her. In just a few short weeks, the Capitol completely robbed him of everything that made him him.

Perhaps it was time to get him back.

Dax Heavensbee, Capitolite

Right after the finale was always his favorite part of his job, although it pained him to admit it. Liking anything about being Head Victor Physician felt like a betrayal of the people he was supposed to care for, and the day always came immediately after so much death. But it was also the one time a year where he felt like he was a real doctor. The Victor would come to him injured, although how badly depended on the year, and he would need to heal them. He could get lost in the minutiae of sewing up gashes and administering antibiotics, to the point that he could forget just what he was saving them for. Afterwards, when his skills were mostly used to reverse suicide attempts, it wasn't as easy to ignore.

Serena May, his newest charge, was in relatively good shape for a non Career. Her early acceptance into the pack gave her access to food and supplies, meaning that most of her injuries were only sustained towards the last day or so. Very few bones needed to be knitted back together, and most of the damage she sustained was fixed by a high powered heat lamp. Which meant that all he could do now was wait for her to wake up. Winning the Hunger Games could be disorienting, and in the past some victors had done minor damage believing they were still in the arena. To help with this Dax started telling tributes during the physician's screenings that he would be the very first person they would see after winning. If they knew what to look for, the transition was easier.

It was rather boring for him, however. He brought a book with him, but the bright fluorescent lighting was affecting his hangover and it was difficult to make out the words. He was idly wishing that the girl from Seven would have had the courtesy to win the Games about three hours later when Blaire Offerseed came into the room.

"Miss Offerseed, you really shouldn't be here." He said, putting his book down and looking for a peacekeeper.

"I know but I need to speak to you." She said, low and urgent. Blaire stepped forward and stumbled a bit, crashing into a table full of medical tools. He sprung up to help her and could smell alcohol on her breath. He fought back the jealousy and focused on his more relevant feelings of concern.

"All right. I think there's a private room down the hall. Will you walk with me?"

Blaire nodded and allowed Dax to lead her to a nearby room. When they were both inside, she slumped down against the closed door. "Did you know that Carlotta and I went to school together?"

"I didn't." he said, "Were you close?"

"No really. At least not at first. She was always...well she was always Carlotta. And I was well liked. I thought I was well liked, at least. When I was reaped, no one showed up. Just my family. And Carlotta."

Blaire stared up at the ceiling and paused as if she were listening for something before continuing her story.

"She was kind of an asshole, actually. Told me that if I died in there it was proof that I didn't want it badly enough. And it might sound strange, but I think that was part of the reason I survived." She stopped again, "You know what it's like, I think. More than anyone. When there's this one person, and you don't know why. You don't have the words for it yet. But they matter. Every moment I was in the Games, I just thought that I had to prove to her that I… that I was worth it."

Dax listened to her. For the moment, that's what she needed him to do. Except the more she talked the more he felt like there was something off about her. Her words sounded genuine, but they also sounded rehearsed. Something about the way her body sagged wasn't quite right either. He walked over towards her partially to show his support and partially so he could get a better look at her eyes.

"You were worth it Miss Offerseed." he said.

"But was I?" she snapped back, "I couldn't bring her back. Was she right, and I just didn't want it enough? Because I wanted it more than anything and now…"

Blaire stopped again, and Dax was close enough to see she truly was listening for something. He shone a flashlight in her eyes and they dilated normally. From this position he was also reasonably certain that the alcohol smell was coming more from her clothes than her. The girl was stone cold sober.

So why the act?

"What are you up to Miss Offerseed?"

Blaire giggled, caught somewhere between still pretending to be drunk and actual amusement, "You know that giant worm in the arena Dax?" she asked, "It's from a book. A capitolite lent me a copy and I'm not very far but I do like it. There's this quote that really resonated with me. Would you like to hear it?"

Dax would much rather just know what her intentions were, but went along with it anyway, "Go ahead."

"It goes, 'you've heard of animals chewing off a leg to escape a trap? There's an animal kind of trick. A human would remain in the trap, endure the pain, feigning death that he might kill the trapper.' I've been acting like an animal this whole time haven't I?" Blaire's voice was light and airy but her gaze had turned to steel, "You were right, that I needed to find another way."

A bloodcurdling scream echoed through the building. Dax tried to open the door, but the Victor was still sitting against it. Her body weight prevented him from opening it.

"Blaire, what did you do?"

She looked up him and gave him a smile that froze his blood, "What did I do? Why nothing at all. After all I was here, with you, the entire time."

Serena May Lenovius, District Seven Victor

Serena May had always been a quick thinker. She wasn't sure she was necessarily smarter than most people, but she could always reach conclusions faster. It was a key reason she managed to survive the Hunger Games. She could map out an entire fight before anyone even moved. So when she woke up to the faint hum of medical equipment, it didn't take long for her to realize that something was wrong.

She remembered faintly that before her individual training session, a doctor walked her through the procedure for if she did by chance win. She would be placed in a secure room with nothing that could hurt her, and Dr. Heavensbee would be the very first person she saw. Except the man sitting across from her was not Dr. Heavensbee.

He was an older gentleman, with steel gray hair and fine clothing that were so well taken care of that Serena May felt like she could cut herself on his collar. He sat looking at her, and smiled as she sat up. But before he could say anything, her mind was already looking around the room.

There was a book on the table, one she seemed to remember during her last visit to Dr. Heavensbee. So he had been here, but left. Since the book was still there he probably had every intention of coming back. To her side, easily within her reach, was a table of medical tools. Most of them were plastic or had some sort of safety mechanism, tools that Serena May would expect to be stocked in a room where a patient may be unpredictably violent. Except they were haphazardly arranged, as if someone had bumped into them, and in the center of the pile was a sturdy metal scalpel.

She didn't like the situation one bit. It was too wrong, too jarring. It felt like someone put forth a lot of effort to make sure that when she woke up, she was as disconcerted as possible. Suddenly Serena May could see a scenario unfold in front of her. If she hadn't been able to think so quickly, she would have reacted to an unfamiliar man by grabbing that scalpel and attempting to escape. No one would be able to blame her. It would just be a series of tragic coincidences, a bad combination of oversights.

Someone was trying to murder this man, and they were attempting to use Serena May as the weapon.

"Hello Serena May." The man said, "My name is Augustus Wren. I know you were expecting someone else. But I have been interested in you for some time, so I pulled a few strings to be able to see you here and now."

The man carried himself with the confidence only someone who never had to worry about anything could ever possess. It baffled Serena May slightly. This man was sitting right in the middle of a death trap and he was either too stupid or too arrogant to notice. She stayed silent, hoping that if she let him talk she may learn more about the situation.

"Now I plan on us seeing much more of each other in the future. But I did want to meet you as soon as possible. To get to know you. And to explain to you a bit about what your life will be like from now on." He continued, "You see, while you will go home eventually to your mother and your dear aunt, your position as Victor means you will need to spend some time in the Capitol. And when you are here, you are mine. I think I have demonstrated just how easy I can get to you, and by extension your loved ones. If you defy me, I will rip your life apart piece by piece. Nod if you understand me."

She understood. Far more than the man in front of her did. She knew now why someone would want Mr. Wren dead. He threatened her so casually that Serena May knew it was not his first time doing so. She wondered just how many people he had strongarmed into doing what he wanted. How many more people's lives he would ruin if she did nothing.

Serena May nodded.

"Good. I could tell you were a smart girl. So let's start things off slow, shall we? Kiss me."

If she tried, Serena May supposed that she could find a way to justify her next actions as self defense. He was a stranger, who broke into her room just to display his ability to do so. Who threatened her family if she didn't do as he said. There was no knowing what a man like that was capable of. She had just survived a competition where twenty-three innocent people died, yet here this man was still breathing. It didn't seem right that others were gone and he was not. That Titania was gone. And if she did nothing in this room, he would continue on unimpeded. He would hurt others. He would probably hurt her.

But it wasn't self defense. This wasn't the Hunger Games. Justified or not, this was murder. Yet without any hesitation, Serena May grabbed the scalpel and sliced a clean line across the man's neck. He stared at her in surprise, choking on the blood, before falling dead to the ground.

To everyone else, this would look like an accident. A Victor who still thought she was in the games. But she knew exactly what she had done.

Serena May dropped the scalpel and screamed.

AN: That's right, the action's not over! I have been building towards this for so long, and I'm glad that I finally got to it.

Also, this is the second to last chapter of Desolation! There will be one more wrapping things up, and then I'm off to work on the sequel A Dangerous Pastime. Which, there's still room for that if you haven't submitted to me yet. Thank you so much for reading, have a great day!