Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games. This is the only time this story I'll say it so I trust you guys to remember it.
Welcome back to my series of Hunger Games fan fiction. If you haven't read any of my other stories, I'd recommend reading them first because there will be spoilers and I will not tag them because this very chapter is probably the biggest spoiler you will encounter. But if you don't care, that's cool too.
If The Bride and The Widow was sort of like The Hunger Games (in that a girl gets reaped, goes into the games and wins) From The Ashes is going to be my equivalent of Catching Fire. There will be a Quell, but with a different twist to the one in Catching Fire. I'll go into the twist in more detail next chapter but, for now, I'll just leave you with how this AU became an AU. I hope you enjoy it!
Trigger Warning: Mentions of substance abuse and attempted suicide, PTSD. (there'll be a lot of that this story). Also some bad language if you're worried about that.
Lumas Taffeta, 24, District 8 Mentor POV
Every Hunger Games has a different story.
There are stories of plucky underdogs beating the odds and brutal Careers flirting with victory for the entire games. Last year's games was a pretty tense action-thriller which unfortunately ended with the leading man getting a brick in the brain and the villain winning. My best friend's games became a murder mystery when she decided to poison her allies. My games... they were pure horror.
The Seventy-Fourth Hunger Games have to be a comedy because I just couldn't stop laughing.
The Capitol is completely abuzz with the news of the so-called 'Star-Crossed Lovers'. Although they're not so star-crossed anymore. When Katniss Everdeen pulled out that handful of nightlock berries, I couldn't contain my laughter. I honestly didn't think that Seneca Crane - a man who, in his first year as head gamemaker, had a tribute brutally tortured by a mutt until his district partner had to mercy-kill him because he was jealous - would show any mercy.
But I was wrong. Seneca Crane is - or was, if he's already been executed - a selfish, petty, hypocritical, fallible man. Just like any man from the Capitol. They are not all-seeing, all-knowing, all-powerful.
After all those years of waiting for the Capitol to fall, all those years of trying to incite another rebellion when I ran out of patience, all I'd needed was to spoil their happy ending.
That was hilarious. I had a good laugh when I realised how dependent the Capitol were on their happy ending. I'd learned that I wasn't going to get one when I was eight years old. I'd accepted that I was going to spend the rest of my life fighting.
But the Capitol can't seem to bear the thought of killing twenty-four kids instead of killing twenty-three. It really makes you wonder why they're still in charge. Why are we so scared of them?
I'm in such high spirits that I almost forgot that tonight is my least favourite part of Hunger Games season. The night when I go home.
It's not that I'm sad about leaving the Capitol behind. I hate all the artificial splendour of the city, all the decadence when people in the districts are starving, all the toxic political decisions. I'm sad about who I'm leaving behind.
Her name is Ramona Hirose. She won the year after I did, becoming District 3's fourth victor. We live on opposite sides of the country so I never get to see her unless we're both mentoring. She's the reason why I stay in this rotten city until the very end of the games.
She's the reason why I'm still alive. I definitely would've overdosed on morphling or killed myself some other way years ago if I'd never met her.
For the last two years, I've been hoping that she doesn't feel the same way about me. That was the year that Ramona's husband - a political match who she'd never really loved - was poisoned. That was the year she tried to kill herself.
I just wish I could understand why.
As Ramona and I walk to the station, crowds of Capitolites partying around us give me a strange sense of hope. They're completely oblivious to how the star-crossed lovers they're celebrating are the spark that'll raze their city to the ground. Rebellion is coming. It's coming within our lifetimes. Suddenly, the future I've been dreaming about for years is in sight. I'll be free. Free to see Ramona for more than just one month every year. Free to protect her from whatever dark thoughts almost killed her two years ago.
Maybe I'll even tell her how I really feel about her. How much I love her.
Suddenly, I hear a splash. Ramona shrieks. A drunken Capitolite is vomiting all over her shoes. I snap to attention. I'd been so busy daydreaming about the future that I'd forgotten to look out for the most immediate danger - someone vomiting and freaking Ramona out.
I have a long list of fears: spiders, meat, the dark, confined spaces, needles... Before I met Ramona, even the sound of laughter would remind me of the cannibal who almost killed me. Ramona's only fear is the thing that reminds her of how she poisoned herself every day for weeks, trying to build up enough resistance to eat the tainted meat she fed her allies without dying. The thing that sprayed out of her allies' mouths along with gouts of blood as they'd grown increasingly sick.
The thing that's splattered all over her shoes.
Gently, I wrap an arm around Ramona's shoulders and guide her away from the crowd.
"It's okay," I whisper. "I'll get you back to the Control Centre. You can get cleaned up."
Ramona nods, shakily. She's staring at her shoes. I know what she sees. The blood of every one of her victims. When Ramona's scared, she shuts down. She goes very still and very quiet until she recovers. She's been doing it more and more since her suicide attempt. Sometimes, I can't tell how much of this new side to her - this vulnerable, damaged young woman who hides behind a widow's black veil - is real and how much of it is an act to get the Capitol to leave her alone.
I'm not sure which one is scarier for me. I just want to keep her safe, whether it's from herself or from the selfish, greedy people of this city.
We make it back to the Control Centre without anyone noticing us. If the paparazzi had seen us together, standing so close to each other, they'd have had a field day and things wouldn't have ended well. But nobody seems to care about two victors from several years ago when there are two bright, shiny new ones to obsess over.
The moment Ramona crosses the threshold, she kicks her shoes off, leaves them on the floor and lets out a sigh.
"You alright?" I ask.
"I need a shower," Ramona says, quietly. I suppose the smell of vomit haunts her even more than the sight of it does. Just like the smell of raw meat is enough to make me nauseous.
"I'll walk you back to your room," I say.
"You'll miss your train," Ramona says.
I remember where I'm supposed to be and realise that I don't want or need to be there right now. I'd rather stay in the Capitol one more night.
"There'll be another train tomorrow," I say, shrugging. "I'd rather make sure you're okay."
Ramona looks at me puzzlingly, like she's trying to figure something out. I've always loved the curious look in those brown eyes, the look of a girl who could conquer the world with just one brilliant plan. Her hand slips into mine as we step into the elevator. I'm reminded of all the times we rode this elevator together. As much as I hate the Capitol, I can't deny that this one building is full of memories.
I have memories from five years ago of being completely exhausted, already cranky from morphling withdrawal and unable to sleep because of a spider hiding in my room. I broke down on the elevator ride down to my room and Ramona spent hours trying to find the spider and make me feel better. Then, three years later, when I was as recovered as I'd ever be, letting Ramona cry on my shoulder after she got the news of her husband's death.
Maybe this is what true love is like for victors. Finding someone who'll hold you together when you're falling apart.
As we reach Ramona's room on the third floor, I notice that the colour's coming back to her face.
"Do you want me to wait out here?" I ask, as she unlocks the door.
"No," Ramona says. "I'm fine."
"Okay," I say, "But I'll be in my room if you need me."
"Why are you so worried about me?" Ramona asks, eyes wide.
"I love you," I say, without thinking.
"Okay, Lumas," Ramona says, absently. She slips into her room and closes the door behind her.
It's only when I'm outside the door of my room that I realise exactly what I've said. Coming from me, the words "I love you." are basically a death sentence. The Capitol and I don't get on very well. They like nothing better than punishing me for my rebellion by hurting the people I care about. The last girl I fell for, Tarantella Hessian, got rigged into the games and murdered by a Career six years ago. I know that they can't kill Ramona that way - she's already won her games - but there are other ways they can hurt victors.
I've just put the woman I love in danger because I couldn't keep a secret.
"Shit!" I cry, punching the door. "Ow!"
Pain floods my hand. It helps me realise exactly what kind of situation I'm in. It's not as bad as I first thought. The Capitol don't have any bugs here. Binah Katayanagi, the girl from Three who won two years ago, has been hacking into the Capitol's bugs in the Control Centre every year since she won. The only person who could have heard me was Ramona.
And I don't even know if she heard me.
I sit down on the bed and fidget, nervously. I tap my false leg against the floor. I can't sit still when I'm anxious about something. It's old battle instincts and paranoia kicking in.
I run to the door when I hear a knock. Ramona's standing there, just outside my door. She's changed into a t-shirt and leggings and washed away all her makeup. That means that she's not planning to leave the Control Centre and worry about what people think about how she looks until morning. She's not even wearing her wedding ring.
I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself, but my nose is filled with the smell of mint from that shampoo that Ramona likes using. When confronted with a Capitol shower, most victors - myself included - just press random buttons until they get random shampoo. But Ramona really likes mint, enough to memorise exactly which button to press. She finds it reassuring - calming when she needs to be calmed and invigorating when she needs energy.
"Lumas," Ramona says. "I've been thinking about what you said earlier-"
"I'm sorry," I blurt out. "I-"
"I love you too," Ramona says. "More than I've ever loved anyone. Every time I go back to Three and you go back to Eight, I miss you so much. You make me feel... like I'm more than just a killer."
A tear spills down her cheek. I reach out to wipe it away and Ramona's eyes light up the moment my hand touches her face. I try to think of something smart to say but can't seem to find my voice. So I lean in to kiss Ramona.
This isn't my first kiss. I've had far too many while I was addicted to morphling and too high to refuse what I should've refused. This is so much better. This is a whole new feeling, an entirely different chemical coursing through my veins. It's nothing like the dull, self-destructive feeling of taking morphling or the sharp pains of withdrawal. I'm suddenly more aware of all the good things in the world, all of the happiness that Ramona is giving me.
I've been dreaming about Ramona for years. I used to wake up hating myself for wanting someone who belonged to someone else and then congratulating myself for having a dream that wasn't a nightmare. But none of my dreams compared to the reality. I'd imagined some things, like how soft and warm her lips would be against mine, but I never could've imagined how much her heart would race when she pressed herself close to me or how her hair would smell of mint as it brushed against my face. All the little details that I know I'll never be able to conjure up in my dreams.
Maybe I'm just completely overjoyed by how perfect things are. I'm in love with my best friend - the woman who helped me beat my addiction, who I can trust to protect me from all the trauma from my games. Now I know she loves me back.
We break apart, slowly. There's a look of wonder shining in Ramona's dark eyes. It makes all the looks she gave her husband pale in comparison. She reaches out and takes my hand. I cry out in pain, remembering how I hurt my hand earlier.
Ramona looks down and studies my sore knuckles. "What happened?"
"I punched a door because I was stressed," I say. "Look, we need to keep any kind of relationship between us a secret. I don't want the Capitol knowing."
"How secret?" Ramona asks. "Is it safe to tell Binah?"
"No," I say. "Don't tell anyone."
"Okay," Ramona says. I think she understands how serious this is now she knows that she can't even tell her closest friend among District 3's victors. I'm lucky that she's good at keeping secrets.
I'm probably the one I should be worried about.
"I think we should get out of this corridor," Ramona says. "Maybe put some ice on your hand. There's probably some in your room. There could be a freezer."
"Good idea," I say. I realise that we've been kissing in a corridor, where any of the victors or avoxes in the building could've found us. We're lucky that the District 8 floor is pretty deserted. Cecelia, my fellow District 8 mentor, went home after her tribute died on the first night of the games.
Time to get smart, Lumas, I think. No more slips of the tongue, no more stupid impulsive decisions. You've got something to lose now.
As I hold the door of my room open for Ramona, I can't shake the feeling that I'm being watched. It's only when the door closes that I can relax.
Even now, I get moments when it feels like my horror story of a games never really ended. Even now, I sometimes feel hunted.
But maybe I won't when the Capitol is finally defeated.
This chapter is a pretty monumental chapter for me. Ramona and Lumas finally kiss. We finally made it, folks. This is actually why this story becomes an AU. Those of you who've read All I Do Is Lose will know what would've happened had Lumas managed to catch that train (also, spoilers for anyone who hasn't). Because he didn't catch that train, Granitte didn't have the opportunity to murder him so he never became a martyr for the rebellion. Because of this, the rebellion is a lot less serious and Snow decides not to put twenty-four victors in the Quell and go for a different twist. But more on that in the next chapter...