Slumped against a supply crate in the hangar, she waited with bated breath for Johanna to come back. Her fingers fiddled with her radio incessantly, resisting the urge to turn it on and listen to the ongoings - knowing Coin would track her location immediately.
Despite her anticipation, the suddenness of Johanna sliding next to her made her flinch.
"Good news, Blight says this Hovercraft is headed back to the Capitol," Johanna whispered, "I'll cause a distraction and you can sneak onboard."
"Thank you," she answered, looking into Johanna's eyes, "thank you for saving me. For everything. I still don't know why you helped me, and I don't deserve your kindness."
Johanna bit down on her lip and looked away, choosing not to tell her the reason why. Instead, she reached into her pocket.
"I have to return this to you," Johanna said, holding out Lucius's gun to her, "I know I shouldn't have taken it, but I'm not the trusting type anymore."
She reached out a quivering hand, and took back the weapon, "That's fine, I don't even know what to do with this thing."
Johanna looked down at the ground, and whispered, "Goodbye-"
"This isn't goodbye, really," she replied, drawing her in for a hug, "you're supposed to be part of the Elders of Panem with me - it's an advisory council I'm setting up for the country, composed of former victors. Assuming Coin doesn't ruin everything."
"Someone's got to show her who's boss, then," Johanna chuckled, before bolting out of her hiding place and hurling an empty crate across the hangar. Her shrill voice echoed across the hall as she berated a random Peacekeeper, and the girl immediately saw her opportunity to dart from cover to cover, until she was safely onboard the hovercraft.
The wind swept through the cabin as the hovercraft took off, and as she looked out of the closing ramp, saw Johanna saluting her from a distance. Patting her red hair back into place, she pondered if perhaps, she'd done more for the woman than she thought.
The roar of the hovercraft's engine blasted in her ears as she felt the steel bird touchdown on a Capitol Roof. Shielding her eyes against the bright wash of daylight as the ramp opened, she waited until peacekeepers cleared out crates of communications equipment from the hold, before steeling her nerves for another mad dash to the staircase.
Right as she braced her feet to sprint, a hand closed around her collar and yanked her from the hiding place. At once, she broke free of its grasp and tried to run, only for the soldier to pin her against the Hovercraft's hull.
"You've got a real nerve stowing away on my craft, miss," he scowled, before recognising her reddish crop of hair, and releasing his grip, "wait, it's Fox-1. What on earth are you doing here?"
She looked into his blue eyes, and opened her mouth to speak, before the slightest recollection of those blue eyes stole her breath away. Her gaze immediately travelled down to the dog tag dangling around his neck.
DENVER, MAVERICK
A+
DISTRICT 13
"You shouldn't be here!" he snarled at her, electric blue eyes glimmering with rage.
"I-I'm so sorry," she stammered, fists clenching as he crouched to her height, "I'm so sorry about Dalton."
Denver gasped.
"That was not your doing, it was his turn to go," he whispered, lips trembling.
"Your brother?" she asked.
"Yes, there were three of us who fled from District 10," he said, trying to keep the stutter out of his voice, "I have a younger brother who was caught up in the siege of District 1. He wouldn't have made it out alive if they didn't surrender."
She held her breath, trying to remember what happened yesterday. Perhaps it was her mind desperately trying to dissociate itself from the war, but all she remembered were those dead girl's eyes staring into the soil.
"The men say it was your plan that crushed the resistance at the comms tower. That was exactly where Daniel was fighting."
"I didn't do anything out of the ordinary," she protested, "I was there to help, just like you, just like Lucius, just like your brother."
"Perhaps it's time for me to help you, then," he remarked, "after everything you've done for us."
"You could help me, by explaining why the soldiers from District 13 suddenly turned on me yesterday-"
Denver sighed, and switched on a device strapped to his arm. On it, he scrolled through dozens of communiques and orders from District 13 surrounding the conduct of her war. He stopped on two lines of text
Fox-1 has gone AWOL and is to be terminated on sight
By Order: Alma Coin
She stared at the green letters glowing from his arm, and pursed her lips into a line.
"Right then."
"So, by letting you live, I'm supposedly being insubordinate to the District, a crime to be punished harshly."
"Well, the way I look at it, you have two choices now, Denver," she remarked, before a sly grin spread across her face, "you could either walk away and pretend you never met me, or go deeper into your crime and help me get off this hovercraft without being seen."
A similar smile spread across his face, right before he lifted her up by the collar and stuffed her into an empty crate.
All the aches and pains from the days caught up with her as she squatted in a dark supply cabinet, into which she had dropped in from an air vent. The darkness clenched at her soul; she tried shutting her eyes to rid her mind of the glow of mutts' eyes in the darkness, but it only served to hasten the throb in her chest. As sweat dripped from her chin, she listened intently to the voices outside in the broadcast room. There were some recognisable to her, but not the one that mattered.
Right as she was on the verge of passing out in the cabinet, the imposing voice of Alma Coin reverberated through the room, and she strained to hear her through the door.
"My friends, we are gathered here today at the conclusion of our fight against the Capitol-"
Another voice immediately interrupted her, a voice she recognised as Beetee's.
"Wait, Ma'am, President Coin, before you continue," Beetee said, his voice twitching under the strain, "a few of us have been discussing and we'd really want to know if you've any information about what happened to the girl."
This is my cue then, she thought, but paused on the handle for a moment.
"It appears she has been killed, unfortunately," Coin started.
The groan which went around the room was cut short by a gasp as she stepped out of the supply cabinet. Their faces registered surprise, save for Coin, who barely had any sort of reaction to her sudden entrance.
"I-I'm sorry, I shouldn't have snuck in on you guys," she said, before casting a disparaging glare at Coin.
"Good for you to join us, dear Fox," Coin said, without missing a step, "your wisdom and foresight will be greatly needed for this next discussion."
She looked around the room at the various conspirators whom she'd only met just two days prior, now all looking like they've aged by years. Beetee looked like he hadn't slept in a century. Finnick had a hollow look in his eyes. Worse still, Lucius was missing.
"Lucius is dead, isn't he?" she asked, glaring at Coin, "Someone needs to tell Marcus and Aurelia."
"We have," Coin started, "But that is not the reason we are gathered here. There's been some feedback from the Districts about what to do with the Capitol population in this new age, since their way of life has deviated so much from the rest of Panem, and this meeting is being held to decide what to do with them."
Beetee's voice piped up, "I don't see a need to do anything with them."
Coin continued, "some of us in District 13 were suggesting that the entire Capitol population be re-educated and transformed into the mould of a new Panem, or perhaps relocated to the Districts."
Blood began to drain from her head as Coin continued talking, her suggestions becoming more and more draconian, ranging from reducing the Capitol into an agrarian District like 9 and 11, to executing 1,702 Capitolite children, one for every District Tribute which died during the 74 Hunger Games.
"Most of your suggestions have crossed way over the line, ma'am," Finnick complained, "since the Fox is with us, we should let her decide, since this entire thing was her idea anyway."
She looked around the room at the dozen pairs of eyes staring back at her, and gripped at her pants. The same burning feeling of disgust she felt at the end of her Games began to well up within her, but there was nowhere to run to, this time. At the door's entrance, she spotted two rebel soldiers.
"I-I actually drew up plans for a government after all of this," she stuttered, trying her hardest not to pass out, "but none of them involved doing anything to the Capitolites. With the removal of price controls, one would expect their employment levels to stabilise in a year or so."
"Well then, it appears there is a gap in this planning," Coin retorted, "and it would benefit the rest of Panem greatly if a course of action is inserted into this plan of yours."
She stuck her hands into her pockets, before gritting her teeth, recalling Gase's broken body on the stretcher, the dead bodies in District 1, her desperate flight from the rebels. Like always, everything came down to this one singular action. In the back of her mind, she wished she could've had time to say goodbye to them all: Lucius, Gase, her parents, but nothing ever came easy for her.
Feigning a sign, she pulled out her gun and shot Coin dead right at the meeting table. The sight of Coin falling over backwards and hitting her head on the wall wasn't enough for her, and she stepped forward to empty the magazine into her body. At once, regret rippled through her skin at not saving a bullet for herself. The gun clattered as she tossed it onto the table, and she held up her hands as the rebel soldiers closed in on her.
"Arrest me and see what happens," she snarled at them, "or better yet, kill me! I've already killed your leader anyway."
The soldiers stopped in their tracks, ambivalence on their faces.
"Your comrades have already tried to do it once," she continued, pointing to the bandages on her head, "finish me off!"
She dropped her glance at Coin, blood pooling around her and soaking into her orange scarf as she slumped against a table leg. Tears sprang to her eyes as she realised what a monster she had become, the very same kind of monster she wanted to eradicate. She shut her eyes, and silently wondered whether anyone would stop her if she lunged for their guns and shot herself instead. All of a sudden she wanted this.
"Shoot me!" she yelled, staring into the soldiers' eyes, "What are you waiting for?"
The disappointment on her face was evident as Beetee stepped in and lowered their rifles.
"She's been through a lot, we all have," he said, motioning for Finnick to come over, "perhaps it's best if she takes a moment to catch her breath somewhere else while we figure out what to do next."
Alerted by the gunshot, peacekeepers entered the room. She flinched away from them, expecting them to gag and bag her and beat her into submission with truncheons. But there was nothing, save for their reassuring presence as they marched her to an adjacent meeting room, where they hadn't even bothered to close the door. As she sank into a chair and cupped her head in her hands, every moment which took place over the last 24 hours played over and over again in her mind, in slow motion. Minutes passed like hours, and she wished she hadn't flung her gun away so she could remove herself from this planet for good.
Her strength began to desert her the longer she sat there, until at last she couldn't even bring herself to cry from guilt at what she'd done. When the peacekeepers came for her again, they had to help her to her feet, and marched her frail, slouching figure to the boardroom - where only Beetee and Finnick remained. The only two people she trusted in here, despite everything Johanna told her about trust.
"Everyone's gone," she remarked. Her throat tightened at the bloodied stains on the carpet, where Coin died.
Beetee sighed, "they figured we'd be the best ones to have this conversation with you."
"A conversation about how they're going to execute me?" she slurred, "at least let me say goodbye to my parents first."
"On the contrary," Beetee continued, "they want you to take up the position as head of Panem, at least in the interim."
Numbed by the constant upheaval she'd endured over the past day, she only managed to shake her head and mutter, "My friends, I'd rather they execute me."
"You're the only one who can unite them all," Finnick said, voice deepening to a drawl, "the only one selfless enough to see beyond the petty divisions which still separate us, District, Capitol, Rebel."
"All human," she snarled, "that was my intention from the start, to create a society where we are human to one another again. I don't get what's so difficult."
Beetee interrupted her, "Unfortunately, your intentions got lost in peoples' politics. Trust us, we've seen this happen countless times. Ending Coin was probably the best you could've done for the country."
She raked a hand through her tousled red hair, A similar feeling weighed upon her shoulders, that night she found herself the Victor of the Hunger Games. The weight of the entire Panem. Without waiting for an answer, the two Victors brought her to the broadcast room, and placed a pen and notepad in front of her.
"A speech, for the new nation," Beetee requested, with a reassuring pat on her shoulders, "we'll go live when you're ready."
Swallowing hard, the girl tried to think and think, but all she could imagine was Gase's tormented body on the stretcher, and the broken lives she witnessed. Lost in her thoughts, she didn't notice the stylists unravelling her bandages. They did whatever they could to remove her scars, and make her look more mature.
More trustworthy.
She caught a glimpse of herself in a screen's image. Her hair had been rearranged into a slender ponytail instead of the disheveled mess, and the makeup they used added years to her face. Stubbornly, she refused an offer to swap her rugged clothes into something more sophisticated. Despite all these preparations, there was still nothing written on the notepad, but Beetee took it away from her anyway, and directed her attention to a camera lens.
"You're a natural," Beetee said, kneeling next to her, "don't forget about what you told us a couple of nights ago in District 2. No one else can see the meaning of this as clearly as you; that it's all for Panem."
For Panem.
In the last few seconds before the studio's lights glared into her face, she reminisced about the mother and child in District 1 cowering behind the bakery counter, whether they'd heed her call for unity, or throw rocks at the screen. It took her a few seconds to realise the cameras were rolling, and heard hushed whispers of "is she ok?" echoing around the room. She stared at her face on the screen, hardly recognising how she looked, just like she did on the first day after winning the games. In both lives, she traded her identity so that others could have something to project themselves on.
Her hands balled up into fists beneath the table, as she wondered whether her own parents would recognise her on the screen.
"Good morning to the Citizens of Panem: District, and Capitol alike.
Today, I come to you, not as a Victor, or a Gamemaker, but as a fellow Citizen of Panem, bringing a message of hope for a nation where we can be human to one another again. Though many of us were not around to experience the dark days - for most of Panem the real darkness came from the Hunger Games, and the brutality which befell our children every year.
It is for these reasons that our collective group has worked towards putting an end to these games, and to return Panem to a civil society, founded not on fear, but on the common bond we share as human beings.
As a result of our actions, many areas in Panem have been shaken by turmoil over the past 24 hours. In spite of this, I urge every Citizen of this country to obey the instructions of those in charge of maintaining order in the Districts and in the Capitol, as we work towards resuming food supply and essential services.
All extra-judicial capital and corporal punishments are banned henceforth. All such sentencings are to follow the due process of the law. Acts of vengeance, whether against Peacekeeper or Citizen, District or Capitol alike, will not be tolerated and will be punished accordingly.
As the games are now outlawed, all 24 Tributes from the third Quarter Quell will be returned to their respective Districts. As part of the governance process, all former Victors will form the Council of Elders, to guide our leaders and ensure that we do not stray down the path of the past. Instead of the Hunger Games, there shall be henceforth inaugurated the annual Games of Plenty, whereupon the brightest male and female students of each District and the Capitol shall take part in an annual competition to determine the leaders of our next generation. Such that our nation may look forward to a future filled with progress and plenty.
Until elections can be held next week to elect representatives to the new Panem Governing Council, the burden and responsibility of governing our nation in transition, shall fall upon my shoulders. It is with great reluctance that I accept this role, with the knowledge that it could never make up for the lives lost during our brief struggle. Following these elections, the chosen representatives will work together with the Council of Elders to draft a new constitution for our nation, one which upholds the common bonds we share, that unites our country as one, and preserves the sanctity of human life.
Despite the uncertainty before us, I beseech all citizens to show kindness to one another, in the hope for better days ahead. Until then, I bid all of Panem a very peaceful farewell."
The girl held her unwavering stare at the camera for a few seconds after it stopped rolling. She tried to stand, but found her limbs afflicted with numbness. Clinging on to the final shreds of strength in her being, she called out to Finnick, in a raspy voice.
"I'd...I'd like a glass of water, please."
Before passing out onto the studio floor with a thud.