Chapter 3.
Vivian split Eamon and Madeline into separate holding rooms so that they could say goodbye to loved ones. Eamon didn't expect anyone except perhaps Nott, and he wasn't even sure if Nott would come by, given how shocked and angry he appeared earlier. He armed himself in his reasons and prepared for the worst.
He waited for what felt like an eternity when the door burst open. He instantly expected it to be the Peacekeepers telling him no-one bothered to show up and for him to go straight to the train station. What he didn't expect was for Leslie Skylock to run in and fling her arms around him, sobbing frantically between words that he couldn't understand.
"Leslie!" said Eamon firmly, grabbing her shoulders. "Calm down and talk properly!"
She swallowed and took a step backwards, still rocking back and forth, "You've got to help her please…... she doesn't know how…. can't do any of this…. she's just a girl…"
For a split second, Eamon thought she might have been concerned for him. He imagined on some level she was, but not significantly enough to bring it up. Not that it overly bothered him.
"Wait!" she said suddenly, her breathing becoming very still. "Is…is that why you did it? To help Madeline? Oh please, oh please, oh please…"
"Leslie, stop. Breathe, before you pass out," he said somewhat more gently. When she was somewhat steadier, he continued. "I have to be real with you Leslie, no-one under the age of fourteen has ever won the Games. And I know this, because Nott's spent the last eight years teaching me about the Games in case I was chosen."
She flinched slightly but remained silent.
"I volunteered because I'm ready for the Games and no-one else here is, least of all Madeline, or that kid I stood in for back there. There really isn't much that I can do, but I'll do what I can. Nott and I will make sure to help her and get her ready, and I can even be her ally in the Games."
"B-B-But she'll still l-lose…" hiccupped Leslie.
Eamon sighed, "I can't make her win…. but I suppose, if it comes down to just the two of us I'll let her win."
"You can't do t-that, you need to win f-for yourself."
Not particularly, said a voice in his head. He shrugged, "I'll still do it, I promise. Just... take things a little easier on yourself."
She half-sobbed, half-giggled. At that moment, the Peacekeeper guarding the door burst in, "Okay, time's up," escorting Leslie out the door rougher than need be. She gave a last, pleading look before Eamon was once again left in silence and solitude. A minute later and the door burst open yet again harder than the last, if possible, behind him.
"You leave something in here?" he said coolly, before turning around and realising it wasn't the Peacekeeper, but Nott.
"Oh... I thought… never mind."
"Oh, you thought something did you? Well that'd be a first today, now wouldn't it?"
As Eamon expected, he was far from pleased.
"Yesterday you asked me if I'd ever consider your training a waste," Nott started heatedly. "I couldn't imagine a situation in which it would be, yet lo and behold here we are, because for the past eight years it appears I've taught you absolutely nothing!"
Eamon stood his ground. He knew Nott deserved the truth, but couldn't bring himself to say it, or at least, not all of it. "On the contrary; you've taught me everything. And that's what makes me more prepared than anybody else in the District."
"That's not a valid reason to throw your life away!" Nott shot back.
"No, it isn't, but consider this. Aiden Gibly? That kid wouldn't have stood a chance. Madeline? Now she actually stands a chance, with both my help and yours. You told me that one person can make all the difference, well, I can make all the difference for more than one person."
"So that's why you did it? For a kid you don't even know and a girl whom," and at this point Nott lowered his voice in case it carried through the building, "is probably on her deathbed anyway?"
Eamon felt his best intentions being dismantled word by word, yet still he refused to concede.
"Better me than them," he said simply.
"Eamon, I don't give a damn how ready you think you are, this is not something you just throw yourself into! The only people who do exactly that are nuts! Like, I don't get it, is there some kind of ridiculous glory you want from this?"
It was Eamon's turn to be angry.
"Do you really think I'm that conceited? Do you? I'm just tired of watching kids around me walk into the Games without a hope in the world. If there's something wrong in doing something about that, then hate me if you must. But if I can help Madeline- "
"Yeah Leslie told me about your little promise," growled Nott. "So that's it? You're going to give up your life for hers?"
"If it comes down to it yes. That girl should go home."
"'If it comes down to it'," scoffed Nott. "I agree she should go home and guess what? So should the other twenty-three kids. But the chance of that happening is slim to nil and you know it. What are you gonna do when she dies? Where is your purpose in being in the Games then? Going to give your life for some other random kid?
Eamon was sickened at how easily Nott was discarding Madeline's chances. He agreed they weren't great, but he had to wonder, did Nott secretly think this about all the other kids he sent off to the Games each year?
"Well then it's a good thing I'm trained and can handle myself then isn't it?" Eamon retorted.
Nott simply glared at him. He knew there was something Eamon wasn't telling him. He could see the answer dancing right in front of his face, but he couldn't make it out. Infuriated, he stormed out of the room, startling the Peacekeeper outside, and once again Eamon was left with nothing but his own thoughts for company.
Eamon sat down, slumped against the wall, his hands and legs shaking slightly. What little colour he'd had in his face was gone. He realised how weak his reasons must have sounded and Nott, ever the realist, had torn them to shreds with logic and truth that he simply couldn't hide from. Maybe eight years of coaching had been wasted on him after all. But he still hung on to that reason. That one irrefutable, undeniable reason. He held onto it like a crying child holding to her mother's leg.
I need to be better than this, he thought. If I'm like this when it matters, then this was all pointless, and eight years really would be a waste then.
After a few more minutes it became clear that no-one else was coming to see him off, not that he expected anyone to. Eventually, the door opened, and Vivian appeared.
"Well sweetie, I think that's that," she smiled nervously. "The train will be here any moment now and I don't believe there's anything left for us to do but skedaddle."
Eamon stood up and began to walk out alongside her. After his previous visitors, she was a surprisingly welcome sight. She opened the door opposite from his to see Madeline saying goodbye to her younger brother, who couldn't understand why she had to leave. To her credit, Vivian tried everything to get Madeline to come out without needing a Peacekeeper, but her brother struggled to let go of her. Eamon could see it took all of Madeline's effort to leave him behind.
Madeline walked out still looking scared as she had when Eamon had seen her before, but with a hint of determination in her step as she nodded at Eamon. He patted her on the shoulder reassuringly.
Together, the three of them walked through to the far side of the Hall of Justice.
"What about our bags?" asked Eamon suddenly.
"Why? Plan on coming back?" muttered a voice behind them.
It was Nott, still visibly disgruntled, but slightly calmer than before.
"There's no need for bags, darling. The Capitol will provide all for you, you'll see," answered Vivian sweetly.
The train station was located behind the Hall of Justice, surrounded by high stone walls and barbed wire that cut off District 9 from the rest of Panem. As they stepped onto the windy platform, Eamon couldn't believe what his eyes beheld. He'd never seen a train before and was completely in awe of the one pulling into the station. It must have been at least 30 carriages long, with two carriages for each district if the numbered markings on the side were anything to go by. With the polished silver glinting in the faint sunlight, the carriage marked "9" slowed to a stop right in front where they stood, and the door opened with a hiss. Eamon and Madeline took what would likely be their last look at District 9 behind them before stepping aboard.
