Disclaimer: The Hunger Games is not mine.
Note: Sorry this took a while longer than I intended. Post-Games stuff is always the hardest for me to actually sit down and write. There will be one more chapter after this, and then we're done. Wow.
But I'm not disappearing. I'm still working on Forged in Fire, and, because some people have already asked, yes, I am planning a sequel to For a Reason. I'll probably wait until I'm a bit farther into Forged in Fire to get started on it, though. This whole two-SYOTs-at-a-time thing is fun, but it's also a lot of tributes to keep track of. So we'll wait until FIF's tributes start dying before plunging into another.
Desperately
Imalia Grenier
Victor of the 42nd Hunger Games
She was dry.
Imalia took a breath of warm, clear air as consciousness slowly drifted back. The bed beneath her was soft, the blankets that lay over her warm and fluffy. The room was just the right temperature, the pillows just the right thickness.
She had almost forgotten what it felt like to be comfortable.
Slowly, she opened her eyes. After days of constantly being pelted by rain, it was somewhat shocking to be able to see clearly. The lights were bright but not blinding, the walls around her a soft, gentle beige.
"Welcome back."
Kalypso. Imalia felt her mentor's hand slide into hers. But she wasn't alone. Bierce, Naomi, and Mags stood beside her. Instinctively, Imalia tried to sit up. But her arms didn't seem to be working properly. Imalia glanced down. Her right arm was in a cast, her left shoulder bandaged. "Take it easy," Kalypso said gently, easing her back down. "You're all right. You're safe."
Safe.
She was safe. Safe from boars and bears and columns of smoke and rising water. Safe from the other tributes. She didn't have to worry about them any more.
They were dead.
They were all dead.
Imalia swallowed back a sob. No. She wasn't going to cry. Careers didn't cry. Not when she had just won the Games. Not when she had just accomplished what she had spent years working for. Not when she had just gotten everything she'd ever wanted.
Everything she had thought she wanted.
Safe. Safe and warm and dry and comfortable. That was all she wanted now. To stay here, as long as they would let her. To sleep.
She just wanted to sleep.
Kalypso nodded. "Get some rest. You don't need to worry about the rest right now."
The rest. The interviews. The highlights from the Games. The lights and the crowds and the spectacle. Imalia closed her eyes. Not right now.
Not yet.
Slowly, she drifted off to sleep. When she opened her eyes again, most of the others were gone. Only Mags remained, sitting silently in a chair at her side. "It was my turn," she offered in response to Imalia's unasked question. "We have an unwritten agreement that no one should have to be alone when they've just survived the Games."
Survived. For some reason, that sounded better than won. She was alive. She had survived. But wasn't that the same thing as winning? Wasn't that the definition of winning the Games? Be the last one to survive?
Somehow, the two didn't feel the same at all.
"Thank you." Her voice was hoarse, but it felt good to talk. More than that, it felt good to talk to someone who wouldn't be dead in a few days. "I…" She held her hand to her throat.
Mags nodded, handing her a glass. "I thought you might be."
Imalia took a long drink. The liquid was warm and fruity and very sweet. Finally, she smiled a little. It felt good to drink something that wasn't water. "I thought so," Mags agreed. "I didn't drink water for a while after my Games, either. Or eat fish, for that matter. But you can imagine how long that lasted in District Four."
Imalia chuckled a little. It felt good to laugh. She hadn't laughed since … since she and Indira had sat beside the bear's body, laughing like a couple of schoolgirls. How long ago had that been? It seemed like ages, but it couldn't have been more than a week. "How long since…?"
Since what? Since the Games? Since Indira died? Since she had killed her – her friend? Imalia took another drink, swallowing back her tears along with the juice. She'd had to do what she did. If she hadn't, she would be dead, and…
And Indira would be alive. That was how close it had come. One wrong move – just one – and everything could have gone the other way. She'd been faster. Stronger. She'd had more training. And, in the end, it had still come down to luck. She had been able to hold her breath a little longer, fight a little harder in the end. That had been the only difference between living and dying. Just one breath.
"Two days," Mags answered.
Imalia closed her eyes. Two days since the arena. Six days in the Games. Five days in the Capitol before that. Two days on the train. That made fifteen. Fifteen days since the reapings. Barely more than two weeks since she had left District Four.
It seemed like a lifetime.
Mags Pharos
District Four Mentor
"How's she taking it?"
Mags shook her head. Imalia had drifted off to sleep again – after downing three straight glasses of juice. "About as well as you'd expect. She just killed her friend, Kalypso."
"An ally. An ally she knew had to die."
"A friend, Kalypso. Sometimes, friendship isn't logical – or even reasonable. I know what you want to ask her, but … just give her time."
"We don't have time. District Four doesn't have time. It has to be her, Mags. And it has to be soon, or we'll lose any momentum her victory might give us."
Mags shook her head. "Why do you even ask for my advice if you're just going to ignore it?"
"Because I respect your opinion, Mags. But it's no secret you've never been the biggest proponent of the Career system—"
"—or its biggest critic. This isn't about the Career system. This is about a seventeen-year-old girl who just survived the arena. Give her time."
"I'm sorry, Mags. I'd like to." She turned to enter Imalia's room. "But I can't."
Imalia Grenier
Victor of the 42nd Hunger Games
It still didn't quite seem real.
Imalia took a deep breath as she smoothed her dress out one more time, then adjusted her veil. Her hair had started to grow back a little – just a short stubble – but a veil felt better. More comfortable. Almost as if she could hide – at least a little.
No. No, she wasn't supposed to hide. She was supposed to be proud. Proud and strong. That was what they would expect from a Career. That was what Kalypso expected. And after everything her mentor had done, after everything District Four had lost, she owed them that.
Didn't she?
Imalia glanced down at her dress. Sea-blue, a color chosen on purpose to represent her district, her white veil reminiscent of foam on top of the waves. Everything had been purposely chosen. Everything was perfectly planned. Now she just had to do her part.
But, now that it came to it, she wasn't sure she wanted to.
Imalia swallowed hard, clenching her fists. It would be over soon. And the sooner it was over, the sooner she could go home. That was why she had refused to let them postpone the interview a little longer, to let her recover. Why her arm was still in a cast beneath the folds of her dress. Why her head still spun if she stood up too fast, or her shoulder started to ache if she kept it in the same position too long.
It would go away, the doctors kept telling her. The soreness. The stiffness. The constant feeling of exhaustion. But she couldn't wait for it to go away. The sooner she got this over with, the sooner she could go home.
Strange, how that was all she wanted now. For so long, she'd wanted to get away from the dreary tedium of everyday life in District Four. Now, she wanted simply – desperately – to go home.
But first she had to get through this.
Just walk onstage.
Okay. That much. She could do that much. Imalia took a deep breath, put on her best smile for the cameras, and took a step forward. Then another. Soon, she was standing next to Constance, who was beaming as she motioned to a seat beside her. Smiling out at the audience, Imalia took her seat.
Constance's smile never wavered. "Well, Imalia, I must say, it is wonderful to see you again – in person, I mean. You've been waiting for this moment for a long time."
"Longer than you can imagine. Every child in District Four grows up dreaming of a moment like this."
"And is it everything you imagined?"
No. None of it was what she had imagined. But she couldn't say that. Not here. Not now. Not if she wanted to go through with Kalypso's plan. She had to play along. Play the perfect Career.
"It's even better, Constance. Being in the arena … it gives you a new sense of everything, a new appreciation for things."
Constance leaned forward a little. "Give us an example, Imalia."
"Warm water. Dry clothes. Good food. Any sort of food that isn't boar meat, really." That got a chuckle from the audience. Good. "Things you don't realize you miss until you have to go without them."
That much was true, at least. And maybe that was enough. Maybe there was enough truth to what she was saying to make it real. Maybe something about the arena had been good.
"And family. I didn't realize how much … how much I would miss my family. How much I would miss my district. Being away for so long made me realize just how much I miss District Four, just how lucky I was to grow up there." Come on. Take the bait.
"Even after everything that happened?"
Perfect. "I assume you're talking about the incident at the training center. That was one Victor, misguided, unhinged, acting alone. Most of us were grateful to have such an opportunity. A chance to improve our lives. A chance to represent our district. I'll always be grateful for the training I received there. It saved my life."
"So you credit your training, then? For your victory?"
"In part. If I hadn't been prepared – both physically and mentally – well, I can't say exactly how the Games would have gone, but it probably would have been different."
Constance nodded. "And, with that in mind, let's take a look back at how the Games did go." The lights dimmed, and a large screen lit up.
First came the reapings, with a focus, naturally, on District Four. All six of them. Six volunteers, ready and willing to risk their lives for … what? Glory? Honor? The pride of their district? A chance at something better? Whatever their various motives, they were all driven towards the same goal. A goal that had led five of them to their deaths.
The chariot rides were skimmed over, and her interview the only one shown. "So the trick is to use just enough force, to pull slowly and steadily enough to reel in the fish without breaking your line. That's one of the first things my parents taught me – and the most useful. Because that's the trick in the Games, isn't it? To win – but to win without breaking. And I don't intend to break."
It sounded so silly now. But maybe it was true – at least a little. She hadn't broken. Had she? She was still here, after all. She hadn't run offstage, crying. She wasn't an emotional wreck. She hadn't started raving against the Capitol. She was here. She was safe.
She was fine.
The screen cut to a view of two hovercrafts, landing on opposite sides of the island. Imalia leaned forward a little, curious. What had happened to the other members of her original alliance? To Mavina and Zach?
As soon as the gong sounded, she found out. Inviticus immediately grabbed Mavina, slammed her head against the hovercraft wall, let her sink to the floor, and pressed his boot against her neck. She never stood a chance; her cannon sounded quickly, the first death of the Games.
Others quickly followed. The cameras cut back and forth between the two hovercrafts. Auster, the older girl from Seven, the larger girl from Eight, one of the boys from Six – they all fell quickly. Another boy from Six – the redhead – and his twin sister fled the other hovercraft, only to be ambushed by the girl from Three. The girl escaped, but the boy wasn't so lucky.
The girl, in turn, quickly ran into one of the younger boys from Eight. Despite his attempts to reason with her – maybe even befriend her – she attacked. The boy managed to kill her, but her body was carried away by the current of the river and disappeared into the mouth of a cave. Seconds later, smoke came pouring out. The same smoke that had brought the boy from Seven to the finale.
Meanwhile, one of the girls from Eight and the little girl from Six had found a pit of bodies. The pair of them set a trap, the younger girl crying, luring in one of the boys from Eight long enough to bludgeon him with a pair of hammers.
Then the cameras turned to her own alliance. She, Indira, and Shale headed south along the shore, while Jarlan stayed at the hovercraft. Delvin attacked, and Jarlan spared him – just like he had said. Stupid of him, maybe, but if he hadn't…
Shale spotted the cabin, and the three of them approached. Now she could see what she hadn't noticed then – the other boy from Eleven, slipping quietly away, abandoning his allies to their fate.
It was a fate that came swiftly. The battle seemed even shorter now than she had remembered it. First the boy, then the girl – asking only that Imalia make it quick. Then the parachute. The crowbar the sponsors had sent. Imalia smiled a little. Maybe she hadn't thought much of the weapon at the time, but it had been something. And it had probably saved her life.
No. She had saved her life. The sponsors had sent the crowbar, of course, but she had earned it. She had taken the initiative – something Jarlan had never understood. If only he had killed Delvin then, they might have sent him something instead of her. An eighteen-year-old boy, however inexperienced, was certainly a more impressive kill than the two younger tributes from Eleven had been.
But she had killed. And he hadn't. And that had given her enough of an edge to earn the sponsors' attention.
Zach, meanwhile, was trailing the pair of tributes from Twelve, and finally worked up the courage to attack. But it was too little, too late. They were ready for him – or, at least, as ready as they could be – and, together, they managed to overpower him. Imalia nodded a little. Maybe Mavina and Zach hadn't been ideal choices for allies, after all. Maybe it was better that she and Jarlan had ended up with Shale and Indira.
Inviticus, Jaime, and Naella, on the other hand, had finally left the hovercraft and were heading east along the shore. The girl from Three, as well, was on the move, and quickly found one of the girls from Ten. Maybe hoping to impress the audience, she tied the other girl to a tree and began to slice away at her body.
The boy from Seven, hearing his ally's screams, crept closer, but, before he could intervene, the cloud of smoke did the job for him, leaving the girl from Three at his mercy as he crept closer. He finished her off, only to find her body was hiding some sort of door in the ground. It didn't take him long to figure out that it would be safer inside than out, and he quickly descended into the hole.
Inviticus, Naella, and Jaime, meanwhile, had found a place to rest for the night – a cave on the edge of a cliff. But rest didn't seem to be Inviticus' plan, and he quickly turned on his two allies. Together, they managed to bring him down. They made quite the team – the two girls. Maybe it was a good thing they'd been on the opposite side of the arena…
Back on her own side of the arena, Brevin and Kendall were following the pair of girls who had found the pit. The girls quickly led them to a group of houses where one of the larger alliances had been hiding. The two girls snuck in first, but were quickly overpowered by a girl from Eight and a boy from Three. Meanwhile, Brevin and Kendall attacked the others, managing to kill two of them. But Kendall was killed, and Brevin fled, leaving three members of the alliance unharmed, while the fourth – the other boy from Three – fled into the night.
On the other side of the island, the other boy from Three had formed a temporary alliance with the boy from Ten, but broke it off just in time to be killed by the bear. Imalia shook her head. What would have happened if the two had stayed together a little longer? Would the bear even have attacked them?
Her own alliance, meanwhile, had also split up – Delvin and Shale leaving with Jarlan while she and Indira headed in the other direction. The boar attacked, and the tape showed the entirety of the fight. But Imalia's attention was elsewhere. What had happened to Jarlan and Shale? How had Delvin managed to kill them?
It wasn't long before she got her answer. The trio found an old ship, and, after sneaking away, Delvin ran into Septimus and his allies, who had slowly been making their way inland. Imalia nodded. So that explained how the girl from Seven had known about her instructions to Delvin. Delvin proceeded to tell Septimus everything, and Septimus hatched his own plan.
It wasn't until Septimus and his allies had defeated Jarlan and Shale, however, that Imalia realized exactly what that plan had entailed. Instead of simply killing the two of them, Septimus and his allies brought Jarlan and Shale inside the ship and chained them to the wall. After killing Jarlan, Septimus turned on Shale.
After a few cuts, Imalia looked away. That wasn't what was supposed to happen. Wasn't what she had intended. Maybe she had meant for Jarlan to die, and maybe she had been willing to accept that Shale would have to die, too, but not like that.
Finally, Shale passed out, and the girl from Seven offered to take over. Smirking, Septimus obliged, but, once inside the ship, the girl prepared to kill Shale quickly. But Shale had something else in mind. He handed over the key to the chest they had found, and the girl from Seven gave him one of the sticks of dynamite.
The girl from Seven sent Septimus back in, then fled along with the pair from Nine. Liana followed Septimus back inside the ship. "Take care of your brothers, Asher," Shale instructed, just before the whole ship exploded.
Imalia swallowed hard, forcing back the lump in her throat. It was her fault. If she hadn't told Delvin to kill them…
Then what? Then maybe Shale would have lived longer – and Jarlan, Septimus, and Liana, as well. That made four stronger opponents she could have been facing in the finale. Instead, they were all dead, in one move. It had been the right move.
Any move that kept her alive would have been the right move.
It wasn't as if she had meant for Septimus to torture Shale. There was no way she could have known. Nothing she could have done. And, as horrible as it was, it could have been worse.
It could have been her.
For a while, everything seemed to blur together. Lights came on all across the island, drawing tributes in. Brevin came across the pair from Twelve in the tunnels, and easily killed them both. The boy from Three who had run from the houses attacked a pair of girls from Seven and Ten, and killed the girl from Seven. The boy from Ten followed the light in the sky to the hatch where the boy from Seven was still hiding, but was too dazed from the drop into the tunnels to fight back.
The girls from Seven and Nine, meanwhile, had found the greenhouse, as had she and Indira. They drew the girls out, quickly killing them both. "Traitor," the girl from Seven spat. At the time, the word hadn't stung, but now…
Now nothing. She had betrayed her allies, yes, but so had pretty much every other Victor ever … except the ones whose allies had died on their own, or who hadn't had allies in the first place. No alliance lasted forever in the Games.
The alliance at the houses was beginning to discover the same thing. The younger girl snuck out to go after the girl from Ten, only to let her former ally, the boy from Three, kill the girl. The other boy from Three, noticing his ally's absence, ran off to look for her – in the wrong direction – leaving the girl from Eight alone.
The remaining boy from Eight, the other girl from Nine, and the deaf boy from Eleven found Delvin, sleeping beneath a tree. The boy from Eight attacked, but Delvin woke too quickly, killing him while the others fled. But they didn't get far before a bear prevented them from escaping, and the pair turned and attacked Delvin, instead, killing him – but not before the boy from Eleven was badly injured by the bear.
Naella and Jaime, meanwhile, had discovered the boy from Seven's hiding place, and were searching for another way in. While they were searching, however, Naella took the opportunity to take out a greater threat – Jaime.
Imalia nodded a little. Naella had been able to do what she hadn't – turn on an ally at the best opportunity. How many times had she had the chance to kill Indira? How many times had the two of them let each other live?
The boy from Eleven, as well, didn't hesitate to turn on his ally – maybe hoping that proving he could kill would gain him some medicine from sponsors. His efforts went unrewarded, but Naella's kill prompted the Gamemakres to reveal another entrance to the hatch – through a sewer system.
Not that it did her much good. No sooner had she cornered the boy from Seven than he called for the column of smoke, which dropped Naella to her death as the hatch began to flood. The boy from Seven rode a wooden chair to the top of the tunnels, escaping with only an injured leg.
The boy from Three, meanwhile, had briefly allied with the boy from Nine to take down the "Careers" the boy claimed were at the greenhouse. Seeing there was no one, however, the pair turned on each other, and the boy from Three was killed.
Brevin, who had been making his way back to the houses in the hope of finding food, was enraged to find them gone, and wandered right into the clutches of the girl from Eight. The battle that followed was much closer than it should have been – much closer than it would have been, had Brevin been thinking clearly. As it was, the girl managed to retrieve a second knife from her pocket and surprise Brevin with a blow to the side.
Imalia shook her head. He should have seen that coming. Would have seen that coming, if he'd been paying more attention. If he'd been a bit more focused.
Water began to flood the stone building where the boy from Three and the girl from Nine had taken refuge, and, as they were climbing, the boy decided it was time for their alliance to end. But the two of them tumbled from the wall together, and the girl recovered first, wounding the boy and leaving him for dead as the waters rose, escaping over the wall.
The rising water had also begun to force Imalia and Indira uphill, where they found the bear. Imalia leaned forward a little. She hadn't realized, then, just how large the bear was. Just how small they were. Just how stupid they had been to think attacking it was a good idea.
Indira ran. Imalia charged. And, together, they brought down the bear. Imalia smiled a little as she watched herself laughing, leaning back against the bear's body, just grateful to be alive. Grateful that Indira was alive with her. Grateful that they were still together.
Their laughter, however, drew the girl from Eight, who quickly regretted it. The boy from Seven, meanwhile, had discovered the boy from Eleven sleeping beneath a tree, and quickly put him out of his misery. The girl and boy from Nine found each other, but, instead of allying, they attacked each other. The girl managed to wound the boy before running … right into Indira and Imalia, who quickly killed her even as she tried to lead them back to the boy, who died from his injuries just as they found him.
Then the finale. Imalia clenched her fists, bracing herself for what she knew was coming. The column of smoke brought the boy from Seven, who, failing to convince them to turn on each other, ran for one of the trees. Sparks flew as Imalia struck the burning tree until it exploded, throwing her backwards.
But it was Indira who found the boy from Seven, injured beneath the branches. She quickly killed him, then turned to face Imalia.
It felt strange – watching the fight from the outside. It hadn't lasted nearly as long as she'd thought. She attacked, Indira dodged, until, finally, she goaded Indira into attacking, instead. The two traded blows, attacking, dodging, bleeding – until she finally dove, tackling Indira and throwing both of them downhill.
The cameras caught every moment of their struggle in the water. She dragged Indira down as her ally – her friend – struggled to keep from breathing the water. When she finally let go, Indira tried to fight. But she didn't have a chance. Not really. Not in the water.
But she could have. If she hadn't taken the bait. If she hadn't started attacking when Imalia had revealed that she had betrayed Shale. If she had kept her head a little longer, things might have gone very differently.
And that had made the difference. That was all. A little concentration. A little mental training. A little knowledge of what it would take to make Indira snap – that was all that had saved her life.
The fanfare sounded, and the lights came back on. Imalia took a deep breath. It was over. It was really over.
Almost.
"That was quite a finale, Imalia," Constance beamed. "Can you tell us a little of what was going through your mind at that moment?"
There were so many things she could say. But only one that was both true and a safe thing to say. "Just one thought, really: I want to live."
Constance nodded. "Is that what it comes down to then? Wanting to live?"
"Maybe. But it isn't enough to just want it the most. Everyone in the arena wants to live. But you have to be willing to fight for it. Willing to kill for it. And while some of that is natural, I have to say that it also helps to be prepared." She leaned forward a little. "Take Indira, for example."
"What about her?"
"She wanted to live as much as any of us. She was willing to fight for it. She fought – and killed – nearly as many tributes as I did. She was every bit as determined as I was. I was just more prepared."
"So you think, with training, she could have been as good as you?"
Imalia thought for a moment before answering, quietly. "I think she could have been even better. I think, all things being equal, if she'd had access to the same training I had, if she'd been taught as much as I had, if she'd trained as long and as hard as I had … it wouldn't have been a contest. She would have won. She had so much … so much natural talent. So much determination. I'm … I'm honored to have been her ally. Honored to have been her friend. And I hope that, maybe one day, I can be half the role model to my district as she was to hers."
Constance wiped a tear from her eye. Is she really crying? It took Imalia a moment to realize that there were tears on her cheeks, as well. Stop it. Stop crying, you idiot.
She still had a job to do.
"I'm sure your district considers you a fantastic role model," Constance offered through tears.
"I hope so." Imalia took a deep breath. "I know our district has had some … difficulties with role models recently. I can only hope that, in some way, what I've accomplished can begin to make amends for that. And maybe, one day, we can begin to earn back the trust that one foolish Victor so carelessly lost."
She looked up. Up in the far corner of the audience where Kalypso had told her the president would be sitting. The cameras followed her gaze, training in on President Grisom. Waiting, as she was, for a response.
The president nodded a little. And that was it. Just a nod. But in that nod was so much more. A small grain of hope that – someday – District Four might regain its place as a Career district. That they might earn back the Capitol's trust and be allowed to train again.
That was what Kalypso had wanted. What Naomi had wanted. What District Four surely wanted. And maybe it was even what she wanted. The Career system, after all, was the reason she was sitting here. She had been truthful about that much; her training had saved her life.
But it was also training that had put her in danger in the first place.
Maybe it was a good thing. Maybe not. And maybe … maybe she didn't need to sort that out right now. Imalia rose again, taking in the audience's cheers, a smile on her face – a smile that felt a bit less forced, a bit more genuine. Right now, she didn't want to think about Careers or the Games or the tributes who had lost their lives.
Right now, she just wanted to go home.
"Why do you want to leave the island? What is it that you so desperately want to get back to?"