District 5
The yells, shouts, jeering and raucous laughter could be heard for quite a long way, as Circe Montoya and Emrys Avery scoured every bar and dive of the Red Light Sector. The man, still ruggedly handsome, snarled in exasperation and a deep-seated concern.
"Uhhhh….. Where could he be….? Which one…?" All the watering holes looked the same to him.
Starting, Circe suddenly grabbed his arm and pointed. "There he is!"
A crowd had gathered, ringing around Haskin's bar. In the center of the circle, stood a swaying and slurring Matthias Fletcher. He had told Circe earlier that afternoon that he intended to watch the Reading of the Card down at the bar ("Whatever the twist is, I have a feeling I'll need a stiff one!" he had said).
Just as every Victor was supposed to have a talent, so too was it almost an unwritten rule that every Victor had to have a vice. And given that Matthias had been a drunk for almost the last thirty years, Circe hadn't seen the point in arguing. Now, she wished she had.
The electricians and hydro engineers who frequented these dumps were hooting and hollering, as a particularly burly member of their crew cocked his fists and sneered.
"Come on, Fletcher! You're gonna have to do better than that if you wanna live through the arena again, ya yeller-bellied coward!"
Matthias staggered a little, growling, before launching himself at the other man. The engineer sidestepped him with a layman's gracefulness and the Victor of the 46th Hunger Games pitched forward…. right into Emrys waiting arms.
"There you are!" Circe chided.
"Looks like Mom and Pop are here to pick you up, Fletcher!" The engineer Matthias had been trying to fight laughed. With surprising quickness, he slid his arms about Circe's waist. "Hey, baby, how's about you let the fellas go home while you and me…?"
He didn't finish. Circe kneed him in the balls, eyes blazing like the fires that had burned through the wheatfields – and most of the competition – in her arena set on farmlands, sixteen years ago.
"Go fuck someone else," she sneered, turning back to where Emrys was staggering to support his partner's weight. Circe quickly got under Matthias's other elbow.
"At ease, soldier…. on your feet…" she crooned.
It didn't help that Matthias was now acting belligerent, wanting to go back for a crack at the asshole who had tried to grope her.
"He should not be grabbing you like that, Circe…." His words were so slurred, she could barely make them out.
"A lot of people try to grab me!" she dismissed, half-laughing it off. "You know better than to pick fights, Matty!" A bit of beer foam was clinging to the stubble just under his lips, and chuckling, she kissed it away. Whiskey, it tasted like, as she swished it around her tongue. "Besides, if I did ever need a good shag, I'd go down on you or Emmy first before I even looked twice at anyone else!"
"While I'm flattered by the compliment, my dear, might I suggest keeping your options a little more open than that?" Emrys grunted from Matthias's other side, as they neared the bridge spanning the hydroelectric dam.
"Never."
Emrys's chuckle quickly turned into a grunt as he attempted to heft Matthias into a further upright position.
Reaching the other side of the bridge, they came to the gates of Victors' Village.
"His place," Emrys wheezed out instructions. "It's closest, thank the State, and I think it's going to be a miracle if we get him into his own bed."
Circe nodded, and the trio stumbled to the mansion that looked like a bomb had gone off inside it. She could only pray that Haymitch Abernathy's way out in Twelve looked worse. The Victors had their share of alcoholics – Haymitch, Chaff – but Matthias was sadly the drunk people even here in the district laughed at the most.
The house was dark as the Victors from 5 dragged themselves across the threshold, Circe leaning back momentarily to flick the lights. Matthias's calves were starting to drag by the time they reached the stairs, so Emrys had little choice but to scoop the other man up like he was a baby and carry him to his room, Circe hovering behind the whole way while biting her lip.
She and Emrys made sure to roll Matthias onto his stomach once he hit the mattress – it was instinct by now, as there was always the concern he might sleep on his back and then asphyxiate on vomit if (and usually when) he threw up. As Circe tenderly applied a cool cloth to Matthias's forehead, Emrys observed the sight sadly.
"Maybe it would be better to place him on his back, and let the vomit take him."
Circe drew back and whirled around to him, gaping in shock and horror. "No…. How could you say such a thing?"
"Circe, look at him! He can't go back like this!"
She frowned hard, as much as it pained her. "Neither can you."
Emrys shifted in his chair, hissing a little at the creak in his bones that was becoming more and more frequent. At 64, he had seen and done quite a bit. He remembered standing in the district square half a century ago, a 14-year-old hothead watching the First Quell, little realizing that it would be him on the other side of the screen just handfuls of months later. When the Second Quell rolled around, he'd been mentoring for decades and babysitting Matthias for three or four years by then; they had both cried into their drinks when their second boy tribute placed fourth, falling to the sword of that Career.
He studied Circe, beautiful and with fiery red hair falling into her eyes, as she gazed down at Matthias. At 33 and unmarried, she had much more to live for, even if the Quell twist hadn't guaranteed her participation again. If he told her how she looked right now, staring at their drunken friend, she would blush and stammer out a denial. A dozen year age difference wasn't the worst thing in the world; plenty of marriages here in Five had ones that were wider.
Emrys sighed heavily. He was getting too old for this sort of thing. He wasn't what he used to be…. When he'd won the Games at 15, he had been a talented pyrotechnic (folks still called him "The Gamemaker Victor"), even if that also had branded him at home as a bit of an agitator. His neighbors might have voted him into the First Quell, had they not had a roustabout who was older, stronger and worse whom they were really itching to get rid of. And then, he probably would have gotten skewered by Cora Shutter from Eight, and Matthias would have a guaranteed ticket to ride back into hell. Or maybe not even that – everyone from the dam to the Red Light Sector still liked to chortle over how Matthias had gotten the Crown on what was still the biggest technicality in the Games.
The Career Pack had collapsed realtively early, actually driven apart by outsider tributes like the girl from 7 and the girl from 3. By midway through the fourth week, only the girl from 2 – dizzy and weak – and Matty were left. The last Career was searching for him, as she had done while hunting down several of the other last tributes when she slipped on a wet stone, fell thirty feet from the sea-cave cliffs, and broke her neck. It took a couple of minutes for the stunned Capitol to sound the trumpets and declare Matthias the winner by default; it was still the only time the Games had ended without a Top Two showdown.
Still, it wasn't as though Matty hadn't done some killing of his own to get there, but since the ending to his arena was what most people remembered (often accompanied by snickers), he was relatively forgotten. His greatest loves were fine wines and, more recently, an unrequited, raging crush on Johanna Mason. He would always try and kiss her at the New Year's Eve party for Victors at Samson's. On an extrememly rare occasion, Johanna would let him. Most of the time, she didn't, and violence would ensue. However it ended, Matty never seemed to notice how if affected poor Circe.
"Do you want me to volunteer for him?" Circe whipped her long, red hair out of her face as she spun to gape at him. Emrys shrugged. "What with Cora gone, I'm the closest they'll get to having the First Quell winner in there. Unless, of course, they choose Virtus from Two. And Abernathy may well be roped in."
Circe clutched at his hand, eyes shining. "Would you?"
"If they call his name first, I'll volunteer," Emrys sent her a crinkly smile. "Besides, it's not like the opposite would ever happen, right?"
You know what everyone says about the word assume – it makes an ass out of you and me.
And Emrys Avery was made an ass of when Carpathia Flickerman, Caesar Flickerman's cousin, called his name first at the Reaping that summer.
"Emrys Avery!"
"I ….. [hiccup] volunteer as tributts…. Tribute!" Matthias slurred, his feet carrying him in a sloshed tap-dance as he stumbled towards the center of the stage to join Circe, who looked stricken.
For his part, Emrys was stunned. "What the hell are you doing?"
Matthias only stared at him with a very strange determination in his gaze. "I've got this, Emrys," he stated, almost fatalistically.
Emrys glanced his first successful tribute up and down warily. No, you really don't… he thought. Taken into custody, Matthias was able to walk into the Justice Building under his own power, but that didn't make his mentor feel much better.
Just as the doors were closing behind them, before the three Victors could be separated, Emrys found Circe and grabbed her by the arm.
"Circe, honey – you have to tell him. Now." Emrys gave her a meaningful look, and she whimpered, deep brown eyes huge, but he didn't waver. "I don't care when you do it, so long as it's before the gong goes off."
"I…"
He held up a hand. "You might not get another chance. It was all about risks in the arena. Life is too." Up ahead, they both watched Matthias trying to walk with dignity down the hall, the Peacekeepers hovering but being uncharacteristically gentle with him. "Go."
Circe dashed forward, croaking out a "Wait!"
The guards stood back, Matthias turning around, gracing Circe with an almost dopey smile. His mouth moved, forming words that Emrys couldn't hear, with the cacophony of reporters, officers and other bodies inside this hallowed hall. Circe was wringing her hands nervously, and then suddenly threw her arms about Matthias's neck and kissed him deeply.
They held the kiss for a moment before breaking apart, Circe biting her lip shyly as she peered up at him. Matthias's smile was still a little silly, and he cupped her cheek softly, before turning away and letting himself be guided towards the train. Circe bowed her head into her hands and wept.
Whether it was over an unrequited rejection or the knowledge that she was going back to the arena to die with someone she loved, Emrys couldn't tell.
