I do not own the Hunger Games but I do own this plot and the original characters.
Chapter 22
I shove the envelope in the silverware drawer, leaving its contents untouched until I am less scattered. My very long nap has screwed up my sleep schedule. I end up watching the tributes in the arena. The Careers have set up watch with the stockpile of supplies, but Glimmer has fallen asleep. I jump from camera to camera trying to catch to glimpses of the sky. According the email from Plutarch, the tributes' day isn't the normal twenty-four hours, it's twenty-seven. There was a study done by a scientist back in the old days that proved that the human body worked better on a twenty-seven schedule. They also use it to accommodate the schedules kept by the Gamekeepers.
The girl from District 8 is camped several yards from the same tree that Katniss has made her home for the night. The temperature has dropped slightly. Katniss is probably glad she was able to snatch that pack with the sleeping bag. The girl from District 8 is shivering and whimpering. She gathers a pile of twig and branches with trembling hands. Her hands are shaking so badly that she breaks the first two matches in half. My grandmother would be slapping her forehead at this girl's stupidity.
I click over to Cato's camera. Sure enough, they have seen the smoke. Glimmer dozes and Marvel elbows her sharply.
"Should we kill the bastard?" Marvel sneers.
"Nah, let 'em sleep," Cato answers "They're not going anywhere."
They all look tired with deep circles etched underneath their eyes. Another tribute is sprawled on the ground in a sleeping bag, snoring loudly. Glimmer's head droops again. Clove rubs at the dried blood on her arms and makes a face. She likes to kill, but she hates being dirty. I can tell by her expression that she dislikes having another female rival. Peeta is with them and I wonder if his love for Katniss was an act. How can he betray her like that?
"If we wait until dawn, we can surprise them." Peeta says. His heartless surprises me. He seemed so gentle in the interviews, unlike the Careers who come across as heartless. Their goal is to win. Well, I think, look at Dimitri. He can go to normal to screwball in less than sixty seconds.
After a few moments of discussion, the group decides this to be the best plan and they settle down for then night. I click back to the camera and watch the stars move across the arena.
Later, I am awoken from a deep dreamless sleep by a scream and I almost fall off the couch. It is nearly dawn in the arena and early, early morning my time. The Careers and Peeta stand in front of a lifeless body and a smoldering fire.
"Twelve down, eleven to go!"
They make cruel jokes about the girl. Poor girl is a homely thing. They turn their lips up in disgust when they find nothing good. Cato kicks her body and she moans. Blood spews from the gash in her stomach. She whimpers and curls into the fetal position. The Careers laugh and walk away from their kill.
They stop only yards from Katniss with their flashlights and torches. The dawn is approaching quickly.
"Shouldn't we have heard a cannon by now?" Glimmer asks.
"Unless she's not dead," Clove answers. Clearly she doubts her District mate's ability to kill.
"She's dead. I stuck her myself." Cato holds up the knife. Blood shines in the torchlight.
"Someone should go back."
"Yeah, so we don't have to track the bitch down twice," Marvel says. "You know how much a pain in the ass that's going to be."
"I said she's dead!" Cato insists. "Stop fucking doubting me. It's not like I want her on my team."
"We're wasting time! I'll finish her and let's move on!" Peeta says. He looks a bit worse for the wear. His face is covered in bruises and there's a large bump above his right eye. And he's limping a bit.
"Go on, then, lover boy," Cato sneers. "See for yourself. It'll be good for you. Maybe you'll see your girlfriend while you're at it."
Peeta squares his shoulders and ambles back to the campsite. The other Careers watch him with critical eyes.
"Why don't we just kill him and just get it over with," Clove says. "It's not like he's useful."
"Let him tag along," Marvel says. "What's the harm? He's decent with the knife. A lot better than some of the other tributes. Besides, he's our best chance at finding her."
"You really believe she bought into that romance shit?" Clove sniffs. "Come on, I doubt she knows he existed before they were both reaped."
Cato sits down and stabs his sword into the ground. "Wish we knew how the bitch got that eleven. District 12 doesn't have any training centers. Their only mentor is a drunken idiot."
"Bet you Lover Boy knows," Clove says she stands behind him and starts to massage his shoulders. Cato shrugs her off. They both stand when they hear Peeta's footsteps.
"Was she dead?" Cato asks.
Peeta cleans his knife on a patch of moss. "She is now. Ready to move on?"
The cannon fires, and I turn off the television. My neck and back are sore from sleeping in a strange angle. I make myself some tea and toast and feed the kittens. Then I go to my bedroom and try catch a few more hours of sleep. My dreams are bizarre; they involve Haymitch, who I've only seen drunk on television, Dimitri, my father, and Seneca Crane. We are in the arena in the woods. President Snow has projected himself on the sky. Around us, tributes die.
I have to break my promise to Dimitri about leaving him alone for three days. He broke it yesterday, so if I do we're even, right? But why? Why not wait to give me that number until after the three days had passed? Unless he wanted a reason to talk to me. Maybe he had concerns about me. Of course he does, he is my mentor. It's his job.
I should knock. I should do a lot of things. I should floss more. I should drink more milk. I twist the doorknob, the door swings open. I should respect his privacy. I should not steal his stuff, even though I thought he may be a danger to himself. The door is still locked. I let myself in. I set the keys on the kitchen counter.
His living quarters are in tidier shape than when I was here earlier. There is no glass, and the bottles of alcohol are fewer. It is awfully warm in here, like someone turned the air conditioner off or it is broken. The television is on, but its volume is muted.
"Dimitri?" I say softly. His bedroom door is cracked. "Are you here?"
A sweet smell comes from his bedroom. I can't quite place it. I open the door. Dimitri lies on the bed wearing only in his underwear. Here, it is a little cooler. He lays sprawled on his back covered in sweat. His eyes are open and glassy and his facial expressions are those of horror similar to Epona's. His chest rises and falls shallowly. Terror strikes my heart.
"Dimitri!" I try to scream. It only comes out as a whisper. I reach out and touch his shoulder. His skin is so hot that it almost burns my hand when I touch him.
A low moan escapes from his lips. They are cracked from the lack of moisture. How long as he been like this? It is only then I notice the syringe in his right hand. Then it hits me. Heros. It's the powerful cousin of morphling and gives off a sweet odor when injected. Several victors in District 8 used to use it from time to time to cope with the memories.
"Oh my God, Dimitri, what have you done?" I whisper. "I have to get your fever down."
I rush to the bathroom and dig around in the linen closet for several washcloths. I soak them all in cold water and don't bother to wring them out. I place them on his head and neck. The coolness is immediately replaced by heat. This isn't going to be effective. I need to get him into the shower. Unfortunately, he is too heavy for me to lift.
When I was deathly ill after Kari died, my grandmother and unknown person, an Avox with hazel eyes helped her get my fever down. My mother was having a party with the Capitol elite. Finnick Odair was there and maybe a younger Elmo and Elina. I spoke to none of them, but instead tried to erase my horror of what happened through playing the piano. I didn't eat. I didn't sleep. They tell me I played constantly, but I don't remember.
"You are an idiot," I mutter as I hurry to replenish the washcloths with cool ones. He groans again.
"They're coming to get me," he moans hoarsely. "They're going to kill you if they find you here."
I fold a rag on his forehead and layer the rest on his neck and torso. "You're safe here, Dimitri. You're in your apartment. " I say patiently. "You have a fever."
He grips my arm. His eyes are glossy and his pupils are dilated. "You have to get out of here, Farore. Before it's too late. Don't forget to tell River…" His next few sentences are incoherent. The drug makes his movements jerky. "I can't hold on. It's coming back."
"Dimitri," I say firmly. "You're okay. You're safe. I won't let them get near you."
His eyes harden and his mouth twists into a sneer. I have the sense to move out of the way this time. He begins to shout obscenities and I manage to crawl on the other side of the bed. Dimitri staggers out of bed, and runs straight into a wall. Something about his movements is not right. They are disjointed and it looks like he is unable to control his body. He stumbles over his own feet and on to the floor. He howls and curls himself into a ball. His body shakes uncontrollably.
I clap my hand over my mouth in horror as he writhes on the floor and digs long scratches on his arms and torso. His phone lies on the bedside table. All personal boundaries aside, I have to call someone. I can't let him suffer like this. As far as I know, he has no one. Think, I say firmly to myself, who knows the most about the Games?
I trust very few of the Gamemakers, which is very unfortunate in situations like this. My three choices are Elina, Elmo, and Plutarch. Plutarch's name comes first in his contacts list. I press dial. It rings twice and then he picks up.
"Plutarch, it's me. Carmen. There's something wrong with Dimitri."
"What? Are you sure? Are you sure his not in one his moods?"
"I don't think he'd be writhing on the floor screaming." I don't mention the drugs. Unless I'm instructed to call the medics, I won't say anything. There's muffled talking in the background. I turn my attention to Dimitri. He staggers to his feet, panting. Sweat drips off his body. He's glaring at me, and his mouth is trying to form words.
"Dimitri?"
He screams and throws himself at the dresser, knocking off everything. Cologne bottles shatter on the floor. I scream and almost drop the phone.
Elmo's voice comes on the line. "Carmen, get out of there. Get as much space between the two of you. He's not… himself."
Any idiot could figure that out.
"I can't," I reply. "He's blocking the way to the door."
Dimitri screams again. Veins bulge out of his forehead and neck. Dimitri's eyes are no longer the warm hazel color, but a cold metallic blue. His hand is bleeding from where he cut it on the glass.
"Get out of there, Carmen." Elmo warns.
"What's wrong with him?" I ask. "Why is he acting like this?"
Elmo ignores my questions. "When you came in, what was he doing?"
"Lying down on his bed. He was hallucinating. He kept asking for someone named Farore. There was a River too."
"Did he ask for the Doctor?"
"The Doctor? Doctor Who?"
"Look, never mind. It's complicated. Just get out of there and we'll explain later."
I have no way to get past him and out of the door to safety. Dimitri lunges at me. I scream and drop the phone. It skids across the floor under the bed. He grabs my wrist and pulls me into the bathroom. It's only then I see the gun.
"Dimitri, it's me Carmen," I plead. "Let me go."
"They're coming." He says.
"Who? Who's coming?"
"Them."
"You're hallucinating. It's the drugs. Dimitri!" I try pull out of his grasp, but he is too strong.
"Farore, listen to me. This isn't a game anymore. It's real, all real. The conspiracy, the attacks, it's all connected."
"What are you talking about? What conspiracy?"
A shudder goes through his body and his knees buckle. He writhes on the tile floor, his skin is burning up. I try to remember all the side effects of Heros from when someone in my class took it. It didn't make them go berserk; in fact, they talked about the different color mushrooms. The gun clatters to the floor and I kick it away from his hand.
"Oh God, it burns. It burns! It's in me! It's in me!" He begins clawing at his skin screaming incoherently. "They've done it again!"
"What is? Who are 'they?'"
He continues to scream and writhe on the floor shouting to this Farore person that we must warn River that he might be next.
"I can't help you if you don't tell me what's causing it." I think quickly. "Maybe we can wash it off." If anything, the cold water might bring him back to his senses.
I pull him to his feet and usher him into the shower. I turn the water on as cold as I can get it. In a matter of seconds we are both shivering. Dimitri lets go of my hand and holds his hand palm up catching the ice cold water.
"What the hell?"
"Yeah, I was thinking the same thing."
"Where am I? Why is the water so cold?" He looks at his hands. His teeth are beginning to chatter.
"We're in your shower because you went absolutely bonkers and were convinced someone was after you," I answer. I wrap my arms around me and try to keep myself warm.
Dimitri doesn't say anything. "How did you get in here?"
"I have your keys."
"Oh yeah."
"I suppose you thought the Heros would help?" I spit. "A lot of good that did you."
"I supposed I did. And here you are, rooting around in my business once again." He presses a variety of button and the water turns almost too hot. "You just can't stay away can you?"
"I had a good reason," I retort.
"Is it the same reason you stole my weapons? Because that wasn't a good reason."
"What? Me thinking that you're going to kill yourself? How is that not a good reason?"
"Well, for one thing you'd be better off." He turns off the water and puts his hands on his hips.
"You're just upset that I care about you. That's it, isn't it? You can't play the poor Dimitri card any more." I point an accusing finger at him.
He makes a face. "Hardly. I was doing perfectly fine until you came along."
"You were writhing on the floor and had a high fever. What was I supposed to do, leave you alone? You could die."
"And you'd be better off. I told you to leave me alone for three days. What do you do? You don't listen to me." He grabs a towel and wraps it around his shoulders.
"Maybe I want your… services." I put a hand on my hip. "I've changed my mind."
"You're lying."
"Am not." I say indignantly.
Dimitri chuckles. "The dress you left here the other day is on the chair. Change your clothes and get the hell out."
"But someone has to take care of you. You're sick. You have a fever." I step out of the shower; my foot almost slips out from underneath me.
"I don't need a Capitol girl fawning over me. I've had enough of that. Why don't you go shopping? Isn't that you Capitol people do? Better yet, why don't you watch the Games?"
"I did. The girl from District 8 died early this morning. She was stabbed by the Careers and then later killed by Peeta." I hug myself. I'm still dripping all over his floor. "The girl from District 5 is still alive."
"Does it look like I care?"
"You should. She's from your District. Don't you want someone from your District to win?"
"No. I don't. Because then they'll be just as fucked up as me."
I lick my lips. "I called my father last night."
"Yeah, and?" He massages his temples.
"It didn't go as well as I hoped." I look at my hands.
"Just get out, Carmen," He says tiredly. His skin is pale. "I can't deal with you right now."
"So you're just going to overdose on Heros and try to forget?"
"If that's what you'd like to think."
I slap him across the face. My hand stings on the impact. "How could you?" I scream. "How could you be so selfish? You don't think I'm suffering too?"
He clutches his face. "Oh, so now it's about you, isn't it? How you can't cope with the Games. Face it, Carmen, you were bred to love them."
"This isn't about me." I'm shaking. "You don't believe that I think what the Capitol is doing is wrong?"
He leans against the bathroom counter. "They've done worse. So if I do let you take care of me, what strings are attached, hm?"
Before I can answer, both Plutarch and Elmo come barraging in the door. Both are out of breath. Elmo mops his head with his kerchief. "Oh, I am too old to be charging around like that. Carmen, are you alright? You're soaking wet."
"Fine." I answer. "Dimitri's fine too."
Plutarch studies us both. His face is beet red and he's panting. "Having some hallucinations again, are you?"
"Yeah." He runs a hand through his hair. "I was trying to ride them out…but she…"
"When I came in he had a syringe in his hand and his eyes were glassy and he had a fever," I answer. "I tried to cool his body down with cool washcloths, and then he went crazy."
"Define 'crazy.'" Elmo answers. "Boy, it is hot in here."
"Well, he screamed like a feral animal and drew blood by scratching himself. Ran into the dresser and the wall."
"Yeah, because I was trying to get back in control."
"Of what?"
Dimitri waves me away. "Never mind. You wouldn't understand. Continue with your lies."
"Then he told me someone was after us. That's probably true by the way you act half of the time." Plutarch drapes a towel over my shoulders.
"I thought you cared about me?"
"I do. That's why I called them." I point to Plutarch and Elmo. "Because they know what to do. That's why I convinced you to get in the shower and then turned on the water as cold as I could get it. You said something was burning him. What's better to stop a burn than cold water?"
"That's fascinating," Plutarch muses rubbing his chin. "I've never heard of tracker…"
"Vinegar," Dimitri interrupts. He gives me a small grin, but then it is quickly replaced by a frown. "I appreciate not smelling like piss, thank you for that."
"You're welcome. It's the least I can do for my dear mentor," I say sarcastically.
"Your sarcasm isn't becoming."
"Neither is yours."
"Didn't they teach you to respect your elders?" Dimitri glares at me. I glare back at him.
I clench my hand into a fist to punch him. Elmo grabs my hand and pulls me away. "Carmen, he's not himself. He's been triggered. It's stronger than we thought, Plutarch."
"Yeah, what you gave me to fix that little bug didn't work because of her." He points at me angrily.
"I don't think I understand. You were already high when I came in."
"Just get out. You wouldn't understand." He points at the door.
"Fuck you." I cry. Tears stream down my face. "Just fuck you. I just wanted to help you. Instead you act like a complete ass."
Dimitri rolls his eyes.
Elmo holds his hands up and moves between us. "That's enough. Everyone's fine, no one got seriously injured. Just wet. As to why it didn't work, Dimitri. It could be a myriad of reasons."
"I thought the Capitol got rid of the margin of error?" Dimitri sneered.
"Unfortunately, we didn't get rid of being human so mistakes still happen," Elmo sighs.
The three of them exchange glances and then Elmo says. "Why don't you go change into something drier? Plutarch and I have some things to discuss with Dimitri."
"Stay alive." I call over my shoulder. Dimitri's keys lie on the counter. If he wants to drive into a concrete wall and end everything, it's not my problem. Maybe Elmo and Plutarch will talk some sense into him since I can't seem to.
A/n: Sorry I haven't updated. I've had some IRL issues that have commanded my attention and still aren't resolved. Also, it's spring and you know what that means; PLANT SPAWN! My allergy meds are knocking me out even though they claim to be 'non-drowsy.'