Last Night in the Capitol

Sadira Abdelli, 16, District 11 Female

Fanchon is already waiting for them by the time they get upstairs, and Sadira knows immediately that they're about to get an ear full. Though Fanchon is always one to overreact, this time Sadira can't actually blame her for the coming lecture. The one thing they were instructed to do in the interviews was not to say anything stupid, and Rion's comment at the end almost definitely counts as stupid. Sadira feels good about her own performance but she knows that she'll be guilty by association. Rion is her ally after all.

As much as she hates to admit it, Sadira is having second thoughts about her decision to stay with him. She was angry about Fanchon being realistic about Rion's chances; she didn't want to be told what to do like she always is and this felt like one decision she should be able to make on her own. Sadira doesn't want to be backed into a corner and forced to do things she doesn't agree with, but most of all she doesn't want to actually believe that any of this is real. She wants to laugh at this nightmare and awaken in her bed in District 11, then have breakfast alone just like every other day. She doesn't want to have to consider abandoning someone who she's already grown so close to.

"I've had two sponsors back out," Fanchon says sharply as they pause in the threshold. "I just thought you would want to know."

"I'm sorry," Rion whispers, but the room is so silent that his voice travels easily. The smile that Sadira had managed to pull out of him earlier has been wiped away and she can see the fear in his eyes. Sadira ducks her head, not wanting him to see that she doesn't feel nearly as secure as she's been trying to appear.

"Save it," Fanchon tells him.

"I'll try harder," Rion tries. "I'll-"

"Your time is up," Fanchon spits. "You leave tomorrow and nothing is going to change between now and then. When you're starving in the arena and I'm not able to send you food or water, remember this. It's not my doing, it's yours."

"He didn't mean to say it," Sadira says quietly. She hates hearing Fanchon talking to him like this, but there isn't a lot of fight in her voice. Unlike their first day here, Sadira isn't willing to stick up for her own decision to stay with Rion. She feels like a sellout.

"Sadira saved it," Rion offers, but none of them believe it. If the audience was actually going to go along with her coverup, they wouldn't have lost two sponsors tonight.

"Go ahead and think that," Fanchon says. "You have to be up early, so I suggest you shower and get some sleep."

Fanchon is gone before either of them can argue. As she slams the bedroom door shut behind her, Sadira whispers an acknowledgement to the spot where she had just been standing. "Okay."

Rion turns to her with tears in his eyes. Sadira has the urge to wrap him in a hug, but she can't bring herself to make any move towards him. As much as she hates their mentor, she can't say that Fanchon's wrong this time. Rion messed up their interview and it has cost them a lifeline. More than ever, Sadira finds herself wondering if she should have taken her advice on that first day. She could have found better allies, people that she could trust to protect her, or she could have even gone in alone. Now, it's too late.

"I'm sorry."

"I know," Sadira says softly. She should say more, but no other words come to mind.

"Do you want to go to bed now?" Rion asks, uncertainty dotting his voice.

"No," she says simply. She needs time to think, but there will be plenty of night hours to do that. Sadira can't imagine laying in her bed this long, all of these doubts surfacing as she waits for the sun to rise. She glances out the large window in the dining area, but all she can see is a soft glow where the moon is being hidden by dense clouds. As soon as the world becomes light again, she'll be on her way to the arena.

"Good," Rion says tentatively. "Me neither."

They take a seat in the living room and Sadira absentmindedly turns on the screen to fill the silence around them. She isn't sure that she feels like talking, a feeling that is entirely new to Sadira and not just a little bit uncomfortable. At home, she would have jumped at the chance to talk to just about anyone rather than sit alone. It feels wrong to be silent, but there is nothing to say. All of the jokes from the train, from the gym, and even from downstairs have been washed away.

"Do you think we're going to die," Rion asks. Sadira flinches at his question, realizing that this is just one more way that they have changed since they arrived in the Capitol. Neither of them has really talked about the arena out loud yet. Crying into her sheets about it felt like enough. Speaking it makes it feels so much more real and Sadira still doesn't feel ready for it.

She doesn't want to tell him that yes deep down she thinks, no, knows that they're going to die. She wants to come back with a smart joke that will take the pressure off both of them just for another few hours until they have to really think about this. Sadira doesn't want to speak out loud and say that she doesn't believe they'll ever go home again. Tears begin to fill her eyes even as she blinks them away. Is there a reason to stall thinking about the inevitable when it's likely just one sunrise away? Is it stupid to believe that just not thinking about it will get her anywhere?

"Sadira?" Rion asks softly. She looks up and sees tears slipping silently down his cheeks, but the sight just makes her force her own tears back more furiously. She doesn't want to cry in front of anyone, not even Rion. It's better if people don't know what she's feeling, because Sadira has learned that no one really cares anyways. Crying never made her mom stay home for dinner or made people start liking her more. Emotions never help so it's just better to smile, but Sadira's never found that small action so hard before.

"Yes," Sadira answers after a moment. "I do."

Rion opens his mouth, but he just shakes his head rather than say more. It's easy to forget that he's so much younger than her, but right now with tears leaking down his cheeks she can see it clearly. He's just a kid and kids make mistakes, even in the Hunger Games. If Sadira had been his age when she was chosen, she can't definitively say that she wouldn't have done something stupid too. Hell, she would probably have been much worse. He's at least kept it together until now.

He's not going to last; as much as Sadira wants to believe that Fanchon was wrong when she said that. Rion might make it a day or two, maybe even longer, but she can't be optimistic enough to say that he will be the one to live. Are her chances any better? Sadira has to honestly say that they are. She's older and taller, with a better training score and no stupid comments being held over her head. Are her chances increased without Rion? That's something that Sadira knows she'll have to think about even though it makes her feel sick. He's just a kid making mistakes, but this is real. If her life depended on it, would she leave him? Sadira knows there is only one right answer to that question.

Fitzroy Gordon, 15, District 6 Male

Fitzroy splashes water onto his cheeks and his hands come away covered in smears of makeup he forgot he was wearing. He scrubs until his face feels raw, but when he looks up there is still black eye makeup running from his eyelashes. It's several minutes before his face actually feels clean and he can wipe off the cool water with a nearby towel. He is in no rush to finish and head off to Chiara's room, where they are supposed to have a video call with District 5. The feeling reminds him a little of the afternoon a week before the reaping when Lianna and her friends were waiting outside his house. This time, too, Fitzroy knows that they will wait for him. It's a good feeling even amidst the twisting nervousness.

He's always been skilled at making himself necessary, but even Fitzroy didn't expect it to go this smoothly. Sure, there were a few bumps in the road when it didn't seem like Chiara was interested in getting to know him, but he got through to her. He's helpful, sweet, and just a little bit charming. Fitzroy laughs to think that he almost believed she wouldn't like him. That just isn't possible.

The pieces fell into place when District 5 approached them at training. He had been leaning more towards stronger tributes, maybe District 9 or 10, but anyone is welcome to join his side. Emilia is easy to read, an optimist to a fault but also likely able to be convinced of almost anything. Doran is a bit quieter, but he's clearly dependent on his district partner and he already really trusts Fitzroy. He wishes that they would have scored a little higher, but Chiara told him about Doran's spar with the trainer. Perhaps they'll be useful for more than just obedient shields. That might be too much to hope for, though.

Chiara is different, but also probably the most important one to keep close. She got the highest training score out of the four of them, and Fitzroy knows that she showed off weaponry skills during her session. She could be deadly and that's important in this game. She also trusts him, at least in the most basic sense of the word. Fitzroy has given her a million reasons to depend on him, a thousand reasons to think he has her best interest at heart, and a hundred reasons to believe he'll keep her safe over the others. It's not his fault if Chiara chooses to believe them.

He's the glue that holds them all together. Chiara will choose him over either of District 5, while Emilia and Doran will choose him over Chiara. He is in the best possible spot within the group and he intends to remain there as long as he can. When things eventually go to shit, as he has to expect that they will, he'll be protected. No one needs to know that Fitzroy won't be looking out for anyone except himself.

Fitzroy pulls the tailored suit off and replaces it with a simple pair of trousers and a blue shirt. He doesn't know what time it is, but he knows they shouldn't be up late tonight. He wants to be as rested as possible when the games start, and he wants the same for his alliance. They all need to be thinking straight if they're going to survive the day. Though, even in a perfect state of mind it ultimately won't matter for his allies or any of the other tributes. Fitzroy is going to be the one to leave, not them. He's never felt so confident in this fact until right now.

When Chiara pulls the door open, she's also changed clothes but most of her makeup is still smeared across her cheeks. She looks annoyed, so Fitzroy gives her a shy smile. "Sorry I'm late, I couldn't get this shit off my face."

"Believe me, I understand," she says coarsely, but Fitzroy has learned that this doesn't usually mean she's upset. Angry Chiara, the one he met on the train, is explosive to say the least. If she's not yelling or clenching her jaw, he has to assume she's fine.

When he first met, Fitzroy thought her unpredictability made her an unlikely ally but he could not have been more wrong. It's weird to rough himself up a bit around her when swearing has never been a huge part of his vocabulary, but if that's what it takes it's a small price to pay. Her personality also gives him a distinct advantage with District 5. Now he's the 'sweet, kind' district partner who is trying to temper her, who wouldn't want to trust that?

"Should we call, then?" Fitzroy asks.

Chiara wrinkles her nose slightly but nods. "I guess. Not sure what we have to talk about, though."

"Our plan for tomorrow?" Fitzroy offers, but even he knows it's a miss. He honestly just wants them to see his face again, to be reminded of how much they like him before they reach the arena. Fitzroy might not be a master of weapons, but he doesn't have to be. Not when he's made himself so important to this alliance. Not when he has that one second of hesitation where he'll be able to throw someone else in front of him.

"Whatever," Chiara says. She has seemed a bit off all day, probably nerves because the arena is so close, but Fitzroy feels obligated to mention it. They're not friends, but she doesn't need to know how true that statement is.

"Is something bothering you?"

"Don't be an idiot," Chiara tells him, but Fitzroy doesn't feel the usual sting in her words. She must be really nervous, which is completely understandable. Fitzroy can't say that he isn't nervous, he's just better at hiding his true feelings just like he hides his intentions. It won't help his case if people know he's scared.

"Sorry, that's all I can offer," Fitzroy jokes and she rolls her eyes. A couple of snide remarks go a long way with Chiara, just like a compliment goes a long way with most other people. She's definitely not most people, but Fitzroy can't say he dislikes her company. Chiara keeps him on his toes like no one else has managed to; she keeps things from getting too boring.

Noemma Dobra, 16, District 4 Female

Noemma wants nothing more than to go into her room and change, but she is also unwilling to miss anything that Venice might tell them. He's been a bit kinder to her the past couple of nights. Not to say that he still doesn't spend most of his time with Jordan, but it's an improvement at least. She has proven that she isn't useless in his eyes, but Noemma knows that's not enough for him. Not useless does not equal Victor.

"1 and 2 want to talk to you," Venice tells Jordan, looking down at his screen. They've been talking vaguely about the arena tomorrow, some of it making sense to Noemma but little of it useful for her. Jordan is prepared to go into the Cornucopia and fight off as many tributes as necessary to secure supplies for his alliance. Noemma is not so sure. Her own plan has to be more conservative because she doesn't have four other people watching her back.

"Okay," Jordan nods, sliding out of the chair to head to his bedroom. They've hardly said more than a few words to each other over the past couple of nights and Noemma doesn't think that she's imagining the coldness settling between them. When he has to turn towards her, Jordan purposefully looks over her head without making eye contact. Noemma glances down and pretends not to notice. She misses the vague friendliness they used to partake in, even if it was never going to amount to anything more.

Their time in the dressing room felt just as icy, and Noemma spent more of her time with their escort, Junia. It would have been nice to have someone else there, someone who can understand what she's feeling and isn't going to just dismiss her with a laugh and a smile. She can sort of understand why Venice doesn't believe in her as much as he does Jordan, but she can't help wanting that kind of support for herself. Noemma knows that she shouldn't be depending on other people to tell her that she's worth it. That's just never been her strong suit.

"You should get some sleep, too," Venice says, standing up from the table. "Long days ahead."

Immediately, Noemma knows that she doesn't want him to leave. As much as she doesn't want to show it, knowing that Venice will not like her any more for being emotional, Noemma is terrified. This is the last night she will spend where she won't have to fear for her life. As soon as the sun goes up, everything in her life is going to change even more than it already has. She can't be alone to think about that, it's only going to make it harder to sleep.

"Don't you think we should talk?" Noemma asks meekly, trying but failing to put some confidence behind her voice. "About tomorrow, I mean?"

"We already have," Venice says, shaking his head. "You know what you have to do, and there's nothing more to tell you. A good night's sleep will be more productive."

"I'm sure there's more we could talk about," Noemma tries, but Venice is already walking in the other direction.

"Good night, Noemma," Venice says sternly, but she can detect a slight hint of pity in his voice. Noemma sits up straighter, trying to show him that she doesn't need his comfort even though that's exactly what she wants. Jordan doesn't need pity and neither should she. Noemma just wishes she believed that.

Noemma tries to call out a response, but her words get caught in her throat. The bedroom door shuts loudly behind him and she becomes acutely aware of how alone she is. She has the urge to call after him, or maybe to knock on Junia's door to see if she's back yet, but she stops herself. That would only make her look more pathetic than they already think she is. Noemma isn't a lost cause, that's what she keeps telling herself, and she shouldn't be acting like one. She has just as good of a chance as Jordan to do well tomorrow.

Except Noemma knows that this is a lie.

She closes the door softly as she enters her bedroom, turning on every light she can find so that it doesn't feel so late at night. Noemma would do anything to turn back time, to make the sun rise again but have it not be tomorrow. She wishes that she could go back to yesterday, or better yet back to before the reaping ceremony even happened. She wishes that she could be back on the boat again, even with Kaia yelling at her or Mateo calling her into his office when she should be out with her team. Noemma would do almost anything to be back there again even though life was far from perfect.

But will she kill to go home?

Noemma isn't so sure that she will.

She picks up the tablet by her bed and searches for Evi's name before she even realizes what she's doing. It's a good idea, better than being alone, but the line rings and no one picks up. Noemma taps her name one more time and waits before she tosses the tablet down on her bed. She just wants someone to be there, but there's no one. She reminds herself that tomorrow she will have Evi, that they both plan on finding each other as soon as the games start, but that's of little comfort right now. Noemma doesn't want to spend what could be her last night alive crying, but that's all she seems capable of doing right now.

After the first day of training, Noemma didn't think she would actually find anyone. The other tributes seemed to join together so easily, almost all of them had their district partner, but Noemma had no one. She spent almost the entire day half-trying to start a conversation with the others and half-following Jordan around just to have a familiar face. Even if he didn't seem to care where she was or what she was doing, at least he was from home. It felt like there was a canyon between her and everyone else besides him.

She hadn't thought that training could get any worse before the second morning, but of course it did. Noemma was terrified to go back, and a negative mindset will always breed negative results- that's what Kaia used to say when they were out on the boat. The volunteers noticed her hanging around Jordan, Noemma heard the District 1 boy laughing about it to his partner. She felt so pathetic, in fact when she thinks about it now, she still does. It's a wonder that she found someone like Evi, someone that understands how terrifying this is and yet still believes they can get through it.

It doesn't change much about tomorrow or about where she's headed, but it means the world to Noemma to not have to enter the arena alone.

Delias Vayne, 18, District 2 Male

Aristona turns off the screen as soon as they say goodbye to the others. It's late, though Delias can't be sure how late at this point, and today has been possibly one of the longest days of his life. Mathias and Amos tried to get them to practice for the interviews all morning, chiding Delias for giving few answers even when instructed to elaborate. Aristona shone during their interview and Delias knows that he fell into her shadow, but that is completely fine with him. He was just happy to leave the stage without a chorus of boos or laughter following him. As important as he knows interviews are for sponsors, Delias would gladly go hungry in the arena before he would offer himself up to be mocked again.

"Good meeting," Aristona says quickly. He might not know his district partner very well, but it's not difficult to see the change in her. Delias wouldn't exactly call it fear, but she's clearly more nervous than she has been all week. He's almost certain that no one else would be able to pick up on it, but he can. Probably because he feels the same way. No matter how much training they've both gone through, it's impossible to look past the fact that at least one of them won't make it out. He imagines they're both wondering whether it will be them.

Delias grunts in response, nodding his head slowly. He wants to ask if there's something he can do for her, maybe even share some of his own insecurities about tomorrow to make her feel better, but he doesn't. It's one thing he hates about himself and one thing that no one would think could be a problem for Delias. He's afraid.

"Is that all you have to say?" Aristona asks. It's not the first time she's asked this question, actually Delias doesn't think he could count how many time she's tried. As usual, he gives the same answer- a soft nod as regret fills his chest.

"I figured," Aristona says, the bitterness in her voice like a slap in the face. "Good night."

"Wait," Delias says quickly, cringing as his voice rings between them and Aristona turns around expectantly.

"I'm waiting," Aristona shrugs. She stares at him for a moment, but the words feel caught in Delias' throat. He doesn't know what he wants to say to her, but he feels like he needs to say something. There have been so many silences between them, and Delias can tell that it bothers her. She speaks for both of them in the alliance and, while he appreciates it, he knows that it's not easy. Aristona was the one to apologize to Romello when it should have been him. It felt like Delias was allowing her to take responsibility for the fight when she wasn't even at the same station when it happened.

He trusts her, but he's not sure how much yet. It's just so easy for people to turn around and mock him, even when they swear up and down that they're not like his cousin.

"That's what I thought," Aristona says, shaking her head as she grabs the doorknob to leave. "We're partners, tomorrow we're going to depend on each other. You don't have to talk to me. I just wish that you would."

"Talking is hard," Delias whispers and he can see Aristona's hand pause on the doorknob without turning it.

"Why?" She asks quietly.

It's easier with her back turned, but Delias still stares up at the ceiling as he tries to find the courage to continue. Even those three words slipped out as if part of the same word, to the point where he isn't sure how she understood him at all. "Because I don't speak right."

Now she turns around, but his eyes are still firmly set on the dimmed light fixture. "I don't understand."

"I don't talk," Delias says carefully. "Because I can't talk right."

"That doesn't make sense," Aristona says flatly, but her tone isn't derisive as he expected. She looks at his face, even as he can't bring himself to return the gaze. She actually seems like she cares, even if her crossed arms tell him that she's uncertain about this conversation.

Delias feels like he's going to be sick. This is the longest conversation he's had in years, and it doesn't feel good. He hates the sound of his own voice, the low growl that sounds like a wild animal and the slippery way that words just fall off his tongue and slide into each other without purpose. It just reminds him of Lyam and the other trainees at home, of the names they used to shout across the gym. Dunce. Troll. Caveman. Delias can feel his body trembling even as his expression refuses to betray his fear.

"Can't you hear it?"

Aristona steps back at the sheer volume of his voice and Delias shrinks further against the wall. "I don't care how you sound. I just don't want to guess what you're thinking."

Delias nods slowly, taking in the statement as Aristona stares at him with pity. He's always hated when people look at him like that, the passerbys that don't mock him directly and just stare instead. If they really cared they would say something, but no one ever did. Delias could handle himself; he could take them if they tried to get physical. Except maybe he needed help. Maybe he wanted someone to step in and protect him even if he could 'handle' the bullies.

"Delias," Aristona says softly. "I trust you, but we need to be in this together."

He nods again, but he knows that's not what she wants. He just can't bring himself to say more right now when he already feels like he is suffocating in his own voice. She stares at him for another moment, but all he can manage is another small nod. Delias hates how disappointed she looks.

"Promise me that you'll talk to me in the arena," Aristona says flatly. "We're a team and I need to know what you're thinking. I can't keep guessing, Delias."

Delias knows that she isn't asking for much, but it feels like an impossible promise to make. In the arena, it won't be just Aristona listening; it will be the Capitol, District 2, the rest of their alliance. He doesn't know if he can manage that, not with everything else that is going to be running through his mind. The Hunger Games are real, not like the training they've been going through back at home. Delias knows that it isn't going to be easy and Aristona is right that they need to be able to depend on one another. He's going to have more to worry about in the arena than bullies and there's no one he trusts more at this point. If she were going to leave him behind, she would have done so when he fought Romello in training. Instead, she took his side even if it drove a wedge between their alliance. This is the least he can do for her.

"I promise."

A/N: Hello again! We are now just one chapter away from the arena and I'm pretty excited to start getting into the thick of things very soon. Next chapter will be the launch day and we'll hear from the final four tributes before heading into the arena. I will be allowing a few extra days between that chapter and the Bloodbath so that I can spend a bit more time on it. I'm hoping to have the Bloodbath posted during the first few days of August as long as everything stays on schedule.

Have your opinions of these 4 tributes changed (Sadira, Fitzroy, Noemma, Delias)?

Which alliance are you most excited to see play out in the arena?

Thanks to everyone that has been reading, reviewing, etc. It really helps to keep me motivated when I know that people are enjoying the story though I do realize that people get busy sometimes. Those of you that are able, please continue leaving a couple of comments! I really appreciate it.

~ Olive