Disclaimer: I own very little.
Chapter Forty-Two: An Offer
Several years passed and I heard absolutely nothing from my family. In fact, nothing of any significance occurred for quite some time. Seneca and I were happily married and both progressing in our careers. President Snow was growing fonder of us by the day as the world of Panem slowly forgot about the strange disappearance of Ostro Stone and his mother.
It wasn't until I was preparing a meal at home one evening when this peaceful world seemed to shift.
Seneca had come home, only two hours after I had arrived home. He was acting as he always did; he kissed me on my cheek, put away his materials from work before coming and chatting with me in the kitchen. Even though Capitol-cooking was far too easy, he was not very skilled with making food.
Conversation began as it always had. There was nothing to make me think that this was an odd night.
Dinner was nearly completely prepared and as I finished the two plates, handing one to Seneca before I grabbed my own and a glass of water to go with it, he began to start talking about work.
"We're growing closer to another Hunger Games, you know," He told me as we walked to the casual dining room in the apartment. We sat at the short table that had a window overlooking one of the plazas in the city.
"Oh, yes? I nearly forgot," I answered sarcastically, taking a sip of the water as we started eating.
"Planning has been going well," He said, smirking at my last comment. "They like my ideas, this year."
"They always like your ideas, Seneca," I reminded him as I took a bite of the meal.
There was a silence for a short period of time before he elaborated on his last comment," Yes, but this time…it's different."
"How so?" I asked between bites.
"They really like my ideas," He said, trying to place emphasis on one word to get me to catch on, but I honestly wasn't paying much attention.
He always talked about work…it wasn't as though I was expected to catch on. Or perhaps…I was.
"That's great," I said, still oblivious.
He sighed before dropping his fork with a clatter and wiping his mouth with the napkin. His gaze held mine for several seconds before he grabbed my hand, forcing me to look at him.
"They want me to be head Gamemaker," He said, excitement and urgency were in his voice as I felt my heart sink to my stomach.
I could see the twinkle in his eyes, like a little kid excited about receiving a new toy. Deep down, I wished to be happy with him, but I found myself dropping the fork with a clatter. Instantly, I ran my fingers through my hair.
"Savera, this is what we've been waiting for," He said, smiling wide, wondering why I was not immediately thrilled.
"It's a great honor, Seneca, but-" I started, but I saw him fold his arms over his chest as he analyzed me.
"But what?" He asked; his voice was stern.
I blinked several times seeing my life with him flash before my eyes in a matter of seconds. Everything that I could have ever wished for us, as far as being a normal family went, was destroyed. I couldn't let the tears show; I had to be happy.
"It's great," I said, trying to cover up with an artificial smile.
"You're lying," He grumbled, staring at me out of the side of his eye.
"Seneca, I'm happy for you. Really, it's just going to take some…realization for it all to sink in," I said with a reassuring smile.
He still wasn't buying it.
He knew me too well.
He sighed again," Savera, what's your fear?"
I blinked several times before finally answering him," Losing you. Losing our chance at a normal life together."
"You knew what I wanted to do when you married me," He answered, staring straight at me.
"I know…but I didn't think it would happen this quickly. You're clearly the best they've got, Seneca, I'm not doubting your abilities…I just thought that maybe one day we could be normal. It's really just a fantasy, you know, but I couldn't help but…dream," I said quietly, half in a daze.
I heard him groan before running his fingers through his hair," Savera…"
"Seneca, you know I've always been slightly scared for this," I shot back at him.
He bit on his lip," Yes, but you said it was for the best."
"I did, but…it'll just take some time for me to process, okay?"
He didn't say anything, but simply picked his fork back up and finished his meal before standing up and exiting the dining room. With a roll of my eyes, I stood up and followed him.
"Seneca, why are they offering you now?" I asked, not wanting this conversation to end just yet.
"It doesn't matter…" He said, his voice droning.
"Yes, it does. Timing is everything here. You know that," I answered, staring at the back of his head as I followed him to the kitchen.
"They just…" He started to make another excuse, but as he turned the corner…he met my unblinking gaze. He sucked on the inside of his cheek before continuing to the sink in the kitchen, hastily rinsing off his plate before meeting my gaze straight on. "Galveston died. Last night. In his sleep."
Galveston was the latest Head Gamemaker who was only in his middle ages. Death certainly wasn't anywhere near him, as of last night. I stared at Seneca for several moments; he knew exactly what I was thinking and there was no way this could be a celebratory event any more.
"Galveston was killed, Seneca," I muttered before walking around him to dump my dishes in the sink.
"He had a heart condition, Savera," He tried to explain, but I just shook my head.
"Seneca, don't try to defend this! He was killed just like every other one has been killed!" I yelled at him, becoming much too frustrated.
He closed his eyes, rubbing the headache forming in his temple," It may look suspicious, Savera, but honestly is there anything we can do either way? If I don't take it, I'd be viewed as foolish and if I do…maybe I could make some changes. You already know my plan. Someone just needs a little grace and we could change our lives here."
I shook my head," What if that person comes after you've not met President Snow's high expectations?"
"What if they don't? What if they come this year? What if they come next? We can play that game forever, Savera."
He had a point, but in the moment I was in pure denial. Imagining him as the leader in charge of ruining the lives of so many innocent teenagers was slightly disturbing. There was a hope if he were to accept it thought…there was hope that he would actually achieve what he claims to be able to. There was hope that he would save them. But that dark image of him standing in front of the computers in the ever-daunting control room…ordering for brutal actions…was disturbing. It's one thing to take orders of violence, but it is another to make them.
I shook my head, not finding the energy to fight him any longer," We can also argue forever, Seneca. It doesn't matter what I say anyways…you're going to do it regardless."
Just as I started to walk away, I felt him grab my wrist," Savera, babe, we can talk about this…let's just both-"
"What? Both agree? We are never going to see eye-to-eye on this! We are never going to be completely okay with you being Head Gamemaker. It may be a lifelong-goal for you to be the boss of the Games, but for me it's nightmarish. I'm married to the position that nearly wrecked my life. I'm married to the title that ruined my life, Seneca. Do you not see the severity of you being Head Gamemaker? Do you know how much I've always feared that position? I may not be in the Games now, but those images are forever scarred in my head. You may claim to understand, but you will never understand," I snipped at him before turning and briskly entering our bedroom.
I shut the door and locked it tight. I heard him turn at the door handle, but I simply slid down the door, pulling my hair from its hair tie as I did so.
Maybe it wasn't fair that I didn't give him a chance to answer to that…but I didn't care at that moment. My brain was reverting back to the stages it was in when I first came out of the Games…my brain was allowing all of those repressed memories to come flooding back.
I tried standing up and running to the bathroom, where I splashed water on my face and stripped down to my underwear before putting on one of the nightgowns hanging from one of the hooks. Tears began flooding from my eyes and I felt weak. I felt so incredibly weak. It was embarrassing to be having all of the images of the maze, the blood, and the horror to be coming back to me. It was embarrassing that I just had this meltdown in front of Seneca.
Perhaps, the only way I could escape this reality was to sleep. Perhaps, in my dreams, I could get away from this all. Sluggishly, I pulled my nearly-dead body to our large bed and don't even remember falling asleep. Even though it was early evening, I was so lethargic that I could hardly comprehend anything going on around me as the only thing I could understand was the fact that my husband had just signed his own death wish.
Did it occur to me that I should unlock the door? Not at the moment.
There was nothing I could do.
As I sprinted hard, I could feel the path disappearing behind me. I was back in the arena; the maze was collapsing behind me just as it had before. The Games were real and my worst nightmares had come back.
Sweat dripped from my brow as I ran with all the strength I could muster. In front of me, I saw a young man's body standing firm with a knife in his hand. I knew that this was Flux; it always was. He was my worst nightmare, every time. At the end of this path, I would meet my death rather than be granted the death at the hands of the Gamemakers. Just as my feet met the solid ground, I met Flux's bright eyes.
Staring into his eyes, I think of how handsome he would be if this were not a vicious Game in which we were sentenced to kill one another. I think of the futures that each of us could have if the Games never existed, but just as the glimmer of hope enters my brain; I see another man entering the picture.
He is well-dressed in a classy black suit, but a streak of red slid down the side of the outfit. Immediately, I recognized the dark hair and defined beard, the beard I begged him to re-shape, but he was far too attached to let go of. His hands were behind his back as he came closer to me, his striking blue eyes boring into mine.
"It's for the better of the country, Savera," He said in a monotone voice, a voice I did not recognize.
Involuntarily, I felt tears forming in my eyes.
"You're killing yourself, Seneca," I whispered, shaking my head.
"It's for the better of the country," He repeated, his face was dead of emotion.
Before in my dreams, I had been forced to watch Lani and Capri be killed slowly before my eyes and already I knew where this was going. I watched as Flux made his position; I watched as he raised the lethal blade in his hand to get a better angle. Just as a lion pounces on his prey, so he attacked Seneca.
It was the most violent attack I had witnessed. I tried pulling him off, but I was never a match for Flux's strength. He kept me at bay easily as he sliced into his body as if he were nothing more than an animal being hunted. All around, I frantically searched for something…anything to stop this monster, but all of the pathways had been destroyed. It was only Flux, myself, and the dead body of one of the only people whom I truly loved.
Just as I saw Seneca's body, limp and bloody on the ground, Flux appeared in front of me. Instantly, I tried to escape, but his attack was quick and simple across my neck as he dominated me. I fell instantly, feeling the warm, thick blood sliding from the gash. As I fell onto the hard ground, life was slowly fading, but I could see Seneca's limp hand just inches from me. With what strength I had left, I reached for it.
Flux's foot came slamming down hard onto my wrist as he whispered in my ear," You failed."
And with that, he drove the blade into my abdomen as sharper pains than I had ever known filled my body. If I was nearing death before, then I was too close for comfort now. I didn't know which hurt more: the physical pain or the emotional pain of seeing Seneca's face, lifeless and empty.
All I remember is awaking with a scream and not being able to immediately differentiate this from the dream. Instantly, I heard a banging against the door. My first instinct was to curl into a ball and try to pretend that all of this was simply a figment of my imagination. My mind was clearly jumbled as I felt waves of pain rushing through my veins from the Hunger Games; I had forced my brain to repress these nightmares for many years…or for as much as I could, but this was the worst feeling my body had ever felt. It was my fear that something of this magnitude would occur and I would convulse to the point where I would no longer be able to feel much of anything.
The coolness of the covers being ripped off me sent a chill down my spine, but Seneca had been trying to get a response from me reverently for many minutes at this point. How he had gotten into the locked door…I don't know, but I was too busy screaming to have many cohesive thoughts.
Tentatively, I felt his touch on my bare legs and started to revert away when I realized he was sliding his arms underneath me to pick me up. My first instinct was to wail and slid out of his reach, but my sanity was slowly coming back to me at this point as tears continued to stream down my face. My brain was still racing with all sorts of thoughts as I tried to erase the pain from the dream. He held me close to his body; my tension eased only slightly.
He carried me, tenderly from our bedroom and into the living room. My vision was blurred severely from the tears that kept spilling from my eyes, but the warmth from his body and steady sound of his heartbeat reminded me that this was reality…not the other. Not the horrendous nightmare images that continued to seep into my head.
His tight grasp on my body gave me a sense of security, even though I appeared to be anything but secure.
I curled up close to his body, resting my head on his bare chest as we sat on the couch; I was still in his lap with no intentions of moving or even speaking a single word. His hand moved to my back, where he lifted my night gown, and began running his hand along my bare back, lightly touching my skin in the most affectionate sort of way.
Again, I found that I was drifting to and from sleep. Just as a wave of terror would creep into my system, I was comforted by his touch and the soft "shh" he whispered, as if he were calming down a child. Never one to he let me out of his grasp filled with warmth. I don't know how long we sat there in silence with him lightly massaging my back, curled up next to the fire that slowly began to burn bright colors once more, and only listening to the sound of the other's heartbeat as the tears stopped flowing from my eyes.
As the time carried on, the tears became less as I fought back the images and Seneca's touch became softer and softer. I didn't speak until I found it was absolutely necessary and I could say exactly what needed to be said. His lips were on my head, kissing me as if I were a child that couldn't sleep at night. Finally, after the fire had turned pink, I looked up at him and kissed him softly on the cheek.
He fluttered his blue eyes open and looked into my eyes as a smirk grew on his lips," You alright?"
I bit down on my lip before responding," I'll survive."
"You had a bad dream, I suppose?" He asked tentatively, swallowing hard.
That would be an understatement, I thought to myself before answering seriously.
"It was just memories of the Games," I answered meekly.
His eyes bore into me; I could feel them even though I was looking away, into the fire. He wasn't going to let me get away with an answer as vague as that.
"It was more than that," He mumbled into my ear as he tucked a stray hair behind my ear, trying to force my attention to his question.
Blinking several times, I looked at my hand that was settled on his chest. Hesitantly, I met his gaze and answered," Partially. Not entirely though…it was more a combination of what happened in my Games and what could happen if you accept..."
He nodded slowly in comprehension of what I was saying; he answered very softly after sighing," I don't have to take it, Savera."
I stared, unblinking into his eyes. I simply couldn't believe what he was telling me; he was really offering to turn down a job that, whether he admitted it or not, he had dreamed of since he was young. His dreams of being Gamemaker were not necessarily for the power, but still…the thought that he would abandon that just because of me was…striking and poignant. There was a warmness that filled me, but I couldn't help but also feel a sinking feeling.
The root of this feeling was that saying he should refuse the job would make me feel responsible for not only limiting him, but also limiting the potential of what the country could be.
It was for this reason that I instantly shook my head.
"I can't let you do that," I answered, strongly yet quietly.
"I can't let you continue to wake up screaming in the night like this," He whispered in my ear, running his fingers through my hair. "Do you realize how loudly you were wailing? Do you realize how scared I was?"
I could only imagine how scared he must have been to see his wife in such a state of panic. In my head, it was all blurry still, but he had experienced every inch of it. His memory of this evening would be permanently instilled as horrendous as he clearly witnessed it. And me? I was there, but in such a state of hysteria that I couldn't remember the detail. Only the pain.
"It won't happen anymore, Seneca. I'll have to come to terms with…I'll have to overcome it just as I have the other memories. I can't hold back you from doing what's best for Panem, Seneca," I said to him, my eyes focusing on the tips of my fingers that were still lingering on his chest.
There was another length of silence.
"I can't guarantee that this will save Panem, Savera. I can, however, guarantee a life with you if-"
"You can't guarantee that either," I whispered to him fiercely; we both knew this was the truth. "You know they aren't going to stop asking."
He chuckled softly at this, trying to make the mood lighter, "So either way…we're sunk?"
I placed my hand on the side of his face before saying," Not necessarily. We can hope for the best, at least and enjoy the time we have now."
"I don't know if-" He started, but I silenced him by pressing my lips fiercely against his. I felt his hand, on my back tighten its grasp for a moment before I rested my forehead against his.
"Please don't. I don't know either, but I can't stop you from doing this Seneca. The Games is something that will always be a part of me and if you think you can stop it…then I shouldn't doubt that," I said, softly.
"You should despise me for being part of such a horrific thing," He muttered, looking into my eyes.
I smiled at this," You're different than the other ones."
And with that, his lips met mine once more. I felt that warmness striking my body and pulled myself up so that I was straddling his lap. His eyes met mine and there was no need to say much else. In that moment, I wished for only him, for I knew that the day was coming that we were in jeopardy. He moved his hands to my waist as the kissing became much more passionate. It wasn't long before I felt him sliding the thin straps of my night gown down my shoulders, looking at me to be sure there was no trace of hesitation in my eyes.
That evening, I couldn't have felt closer with Seneca. It couldn't have felt more right.
It wasn't until two weeks later when I was emptying the contents of my stomach into nearly every garbage disposal in sight that I came to regret the irrational thinking on both of our parts.
How could I have been that stupid?
A/N: Thanks for reading! Can I just say how awkward the last scene was for me to write? Ugh, I didn't want to go into too much detail, but I certainly didn't want to ruin the moment. Sorry, writing "intimate" scenes are a challenge for me…hopefully I didn't butcher it too badly. Please, please let me know what you think!
