Chapter One-Hundred-and-Twenty-Four; Grounding Force
Stephanie remained silent and pale as she sat in the car beside Seneca; her thoughts battling within her while Seneca sat in irritated sulkiness.
"Should I be worried that you've suddenly gone mute?" Seneca remarked suddenly, turning his narrowed gaze on her.
Stephanie flinched, rubbing a wearied hand across her throbbing temples; that was precisely the point – Seneca shouldn't be worried about her at all.
He wasn't meant to be the one trying to get answers out of her. He wasn't meant to be the one worrying about her. He wasn't meant to be the one that loved her.
That was meant to be Haymitch and the thought made a painful lump rise in Stephanie's throat.
Everytime she thought of Haymitch she could only see the cold look he had cast her before storming from the room with words to the effect that she should go to Seneca.
Her motives in going to Seneca had been to get answers about Fas, to somehow punish or reprimand the Gamemaker about staining her hands with Fas' blood, for making her a murderer too.
Concerns about a cure for her fainting had barely been a thought at all and then Haymitch had left her and Stephanie's intent towards Seneca had slowly shifted from obtaining answers to exacting a murderous urge.
But now sitting beside Seneca in his car Stephanie's thoughts were conflicted.
She had wanted to kill Seneca but after some shrewd reasoning she resigned herself that that was hardly the best idea she had ever had.
Then she had wanted answers of Seneca and that was where the real problem lay. To get answers from Seneca she would have to speak with him, converse with Seneca Crane and tell and confide in him things.
Haymitch's words kept ringing in her ears, the cold suspicion in his steel gaze; how could she justify having anything more to do with Seneca if it only meant pushing Haymitch further away?
"What could you and I possibly have to say to one another?" Stephanie mumbled quietly, her thoughts still tumbling over one another unhelpfully.
Seneca almost jolted when Stephanie spoke; she had been silent for so long, refusing to answer any of his questions even though he could see the anger blaze hotly in her eyes when he had deliberately provoked her verbally.
Seneca sighed, the sound heavy with exasperation, "you could tell me what actually happened at the race track when you were attacked," Seneca forced out through gritted teeth, trying his best to remain patient.
Inwardly Seneca had thought he was being more than fair with Stephanie, especially after she had attacked him so. If anyone else had of done that, they would not be alive at that moment to draw breath.
Stephanie shot Seneca a weak glare, "you already know – I've already told you," she muttered bitterly.
Seneca released another measured breath, "not in its entirety," he said pointedly, "you mentioned Ficen," Seneca added and Stephanie flinched slightly, her gaze sliding over to Seneca.
"She was convinced that you had Fas killed," Stephanie said begrudgingly, her gaze lancing through Seneca suspiciously.
Seneca seemed to mull the words over, "did she give any particular reason why she was so sure of this?"
Stephanie turned to face Seneca slightly then, her eyes narrowing even further, "she said she had a conversation with you," Stephanie answered, "that you told her how I had…" Stephanie paused, closing her eyes as she breathed deeply and Seneca held his breath.
Stephanie opened her eyes again shooting Seneca another glare, "I had told you what had happened at The Chandelier Rooms – I had touted on Ficen, Dess and Fas. And because of that…you had Fas killed."
Silence dominated in the car again while Stephanie tugged miserably at some tangled curls of brunette. She had done the exact thing she had not wanted to do – again; she had confided in Seneca. The burning need for answers, for definite definitive proof that she wasn't a murderer were impossible to suppress.
Seneca's expression grew darker before he faced down Stephanie's accusing look, "I did have a talk with Ficen," Seneca said, "and it was entailed to her that you had told me what had happened at The Chandelier Rooms – but I didn't have Fas killed."
Stephanie's expression remained unconvinced though as Seneca huffed out a frustrated sigh, "let's look at all the possible suspects for Fas' murder shall we?" he announced sarcastically.
Stephanie opened her mouth to protest but Seneca continued on, "well there are numerous people; a lot of cheating husbands and unfaithful wives to name a few who would like to see Fas Clearwater dead. But you of course don't believe it was an attack that was solely unconnected with you, and if I'm honest…neither am I."
Stephanie's brow furrowed at the genuine note of concern in Seneca's voice as he murmured his last appendage.
"Then that leaves the people who know what happened in The Chandelier Rooms; Fas, Dess, Ficen, myself and Abernathy I'm assuming?" Seneca looked to Stephanie pointedly and Stephanie gave a curt nod in response.
"Good now we're getting somewhere," Seneca said with a sarcastic quirk of his lips, "now Ficen has neither the means nor is it her style; Ficen never does the dirty work herself; you only have to look at her brother Cen to see that."
Stephanie shuddered remembering the photo shoot where she had happened across the stylist's dead body.
"Dess and I had a rather productive chat not so long ago as well," Seneca intoned ominously rolling his eyes as Stephanie's gaze snapped to him immediately alarmed.
"Let's just say Dess Landa has become your biggest sponsor," Seneca said with a smirk.
Stephanie furrowed her brow, casting Seneca a long look.
"And you're sure Dess didn't have Fas killed?" Stephanie asked.
Seneca scoffed, turning more towards her, "Dess Landa is one of the most idiotic fools in this Capitol; Ficen had bought him over by promising to design some clothes for him," Seneca said contemptuously.
"So neither Dess, Ficen nor I had Fas killed…" Seneca trailed off casually and Stephanie's expression immediately darkened.
"And neither did Haymitch!" she cried loudly and Seneca immediately adopted an expression of innocence which failed completely because of the smirk that curved his lips.
"Fine then, so Fas Clearwater upped and killed himself then," Seneca announced with a faux note of cheerfulness and Stephanie rolled her eyes.
A silence stretched during which Stephanie leaned forward, her shoulder brushing against Seneca's.
Stephanie dropped her head into her hands, her lips downturned.
"I can't talk about this anymore," Stephanie murmured quietly, "if you say you didn't have Fas killed then…" Stephanie looked at Seneca through parted fingers. He was watching her intently, head tilted to the side, waiting expectantly.
Stephanie swallowed harshly, grinding her teeth together before she forced herself to speak, "then I believe you," she muttered.
Haymitch had told her to trust the blue-eyed Gamemaker; did she still hold true to that now or had circumstances changed that as well?
Stephanie looked back at Seneca just in time to catch Seneca hurriedly schooling his features into a more composed mask, from the previously shocked expression they had been wearing moments before.
Seneca shot her a half-smirk then, though it didn't seem quite as smug as usual, "well that certainly makes for a change," he remarked quietly.
…
They arrived far quicker than Stephanie imagined they would. She had thought fate, or whatever it was that controlling her abysmal odds at that moment, would have dragged the journey out impossibly.
But soon the car was slowing to a stop and Seneca was reaching for the door handle. He climbed out swiftly and Stephanie heard the click of his shoes as they touched the ground.
Stephanie flexed her fingers as she swallowed a little nervously, the situation crashing in around her with dizzying force.
Just what in the hell did she think she was doing? Stephanie's thoughts demanded.
She shouldn't be blindly following Seneca like she was, believing him so easily?
Stephanie sighed, massaging her throbbing temples with long fingers wearily. Everytime she trusted Seneca whether she intended it or not, it felt like she was betraying Haymitch.
"Are you going to faint?"
Stephanie jolted, banging her elbow against the car door. She hissed, glaring sullenly as she rubbed at the sore spot.
Seneca meanwhile had a vague smirk on his face as he watched her carefully. "No I'm not going to faint," Stephanie muttered determinedly.
Seneca arched a brow, "well come on then."
Stephanie slid across the seats to climb out of the car, blatantly ignoring Seneca's outstretched hand.
Stephanie took in the huge building that rose above her, almost pressing down on top of her. Huge tower-like structures that looked like the chimneys that belched black smoke back home in District 3 rose behind the building. Stephanie almost had to shield her eyes as blinding shafts of sunlight were reflected by the building's countless windows.
She made a small noise of surprise as she felt the warm silk slide across her shoulders. Seneca's fingers were surprisingly gentle as he tugged her hair loose to fall down her back again.
Stephanie frowned at him, making to shrug his jacket off stubbornly, "what do you think you're doing?" she snapped.
"The idea is to blend in with your surroundings. And right now the only place you would blend in is a disaster zone," Seneca shot back smoothly with an annoying little smirk.
Stephanie frowned as she conceded his point, and she tugged his jacket a little closer around herself self-consciously. She caught Seneca's scent tickling at her senses at the movement; something sharp and clean. Stephanie shook her head to clear her thoughts; she really did need some new clothes, preferably sooner rather than later Stephanie thought grimacing.
Seneca placed a hand on the small of her back as he directed her forward towards the building's entrance. Stephanie's frown deepened at the slight contact but she resisted the urge to try and displace his hand, not wanting to seem even more petulant.
"How long will this last?" she asked him, swallowing nervously despite herself as the building loomed above her.
Seneca reached past her to open the door before they walked into a completely empty lobby, Seneca's footfalls loud in the silence.
"That all depends of course," Seneca replied casually, "on what exactly is making you faint."
Stephanie sucked in a rallying breath, "where is…anyone?" she asked unsure as her gaze flitted around the eerily empty lobby.
Seneca gave a snort of amusement as he led her to the waiting lifts, "the more people involved the more risk," he said casually.
Stephanie numbly stepped into the lift, her heart almost stuttering as she recalled Haymitch saying something almost entirely similar when he had brought her to Sterlin's apartment.
When the lift doors opened Stephanie almost screamed. Seneca cursed under his breath as he made a futile attempt to shove her behind him.
Stephanie's hands latched on instinctively to Seneca's shoulders and so she could feel when the tenseness in them eased almost immediately.
"Damn it!" Seneca cursed loudly, "a little warning you were here would have been appreciated," Seneca shot in icy sarcasm.
Stephanie peeked around Seneca given he still had an arm flung back preventing her from moving out from the shield of his form.
The gaze of the man who was standing outside the lift lingered on Stephanie for a disconcerting moment and Stephanie despite her pride found herself almost cringing behind Seneca even more.
"Sorry Seneca, I left word with your guard to let you know I would be here," the man said genially.
Seneca was still frowning but he moved forward, dragging a reluctant Stephanie after him out into the hallway.
"You shouldn't be here at all Wirin," Seneca muttered, his grip on Stephanie's hand tightening marginally.
Wirin's gaze flickered over Seneca's shoulder again where Stephanie pulled Seneca's jacket tighter about herself.
"I wanted to help," Wirin replied.
"You help by keeping my father's attention otherwise distracted. You are the one closest to him on his staff, the one he trusts most – "
"And I've been doing that Seneca, but you know how you're father is."
Seneca scoffed as he smirked bitterly, "only too well."
"Seneca you know you're like a brother to me," Wirin said earnestly suddenly, as he reached out a hand to clasp Seneca's shoulder, "I want to help."
Seneca sighed as he rolled his eyes, "fine," he relented, shrugging Wirin's hand from his shoulder, "come on."
Stephanie followed after Seneca dumbly, feeling suddenly cowed in the presence of the two Capitol men. Every few seconds it would hit here with the force of a Capitol train what she was actually doing.
She would look down and see her fingers linked with Seneca's and it would feel like her heart was stuck in her throat.
It had seemed that her world had once more been turned on its head all over again.
And somehow of all people it was Seneca Crane who was grounding her this time.
Especial thanks to girlworthfightingfor for the review! Really glad to hear things are starting to connect!