A/N: I gave up on this story long ago.
I'm not going to lie. It's a dead!fic, and it's been a dead!fic for awhile. But I want to write more fanfiction, and I can't do that with the overwhelming guilt of having a dead!fic on my profile. I'm sorry, guys, I haven't even been procrastinating, I just gave up. I couldn't remember where I was going with it anymore.
Around the time I stopped updating a lot of my favorite fics stopped updating, so I figured I'd cursed the site or something.
It was incredibly hard to write at first, but then I figured I should just plunge through it and upload it, anyway. I don't write in first person, present tense anymore, so if anything seems awkward I sincerely apologize. There's two or three chapters left after this one, which I'm in the process of writing. Literally, I'm about to get back to it. The next chapter will probably be up tomorrow or the day after that, as I've recently stumbled upon a wealth of time.
Viva la dead!fic!
The Erruption
I've only heard about the Games. Tributes killing each other, the Capitol occasionally taking control of the arena to demonstrate their power over the lives of the Districts, and everyone in them.
So as the ground beneath my feet quakes like an autumn leaf in a thunderstorm and a supersonic boom! splits across the jungle and makes my sensitive, vampiric ears cringe in pain, I'm forced to wonder what the Capitol is doing creating such a massive earthquake in the middle of my kill. And then my feet start to move under me and I'm running in no discernible direction. When I finally manage to catch the tail-end of a thought it's something like a string of half-babbled profanities.
I'm expecting Mutts or fireballs or some other cruel trick of the Capitol to make the remaining Tributes suffer, and in the panic of the earthquake that's awakened some well-preserved, human, primitive-primate urge to run, I have only two instincts: Get away from here; follow and protect Edward.
Even injured, Edward is still ahead of me. I bound forwards, the ground still shaking beneath my feet, and another wave of panic washes over me: I didn't think earthquakes were supposed to last this long. Cato catches up to me from behind, and for a moment I think he's going to try to kill me again, but he just pulls ahead and away from me.
Then I smell the sulfur and ash, ahead of me, and feel the heat radiating from here, and I pull to a dead halt. If I were human, I'd be shaking worse than the ground beneath my feet. The rockslides, the jungle in the shadow of the mountain… My vampire mind is frantically calculating scenarios in which Edward and I come out of this situation alive and for a moment my mind is frighteningly blank. Terror grips me; I can't think. "Volcano," my voice says. Then two vampires halt, hearing my voice, stare incredulously for a microsecond, and then we're sprinting in the opposite direction.
It doesn't matter that I'm facing the opposite direction when the flash happens. It's brighter than the sun, so bright and hot it hurts my eyes and makes me think vaguely of vampires disintegrating, not sparkling in the light.
I hear the next boom! almost second after I feel it, the wave of it so strong that it knocks me to the ground mid-stride, and the rocks beneath me crumble as my body scrapes against them. The sound is deafening, and it hurts like fire in my skull. The heat feels like a cheese-grater taken to my skin, and I flinch away at the perfect memories of the acid-acid-dying from the things-crawling-killing in the jungle that resound through my head more painfully than any supersonic shockwaves. As I sit upright I wonder if vampires can get concussions, because I feel like I'm watching myself on the Capitol camera as it pans out and shows the surreal, horrific scene.
The sky is orange. The sun isn't the sun but a column of fire. And that sun is setting and spreading itself across the landscape and turning the trees that survived the shockwave to flame.
Edward grabs my wrist. "Bella," he says; I meet his eyes and see not his perfection but the fire reflected in his pupils. "Isabelle," he says, using my Capitol name this time. Then the heat intensifies, I feel like I'm made of candle-wax instead of diamond, and Edward tugs me away from the river bank that won't be a haven of water for much longer. I don't know if he was going to say run or I love you or sorry, our entire relationship has been a cruel joke, good luck, but my other name makes me feel the strength I've gained, the way I'm no longer a swan, but a hawk.
We run.
We run, Edward holds my hand tightly, and Cato runs beside us like he's forgotten that we're enemies.
We run as the air fills with ash and the Capitol basks in a squalor of power.
And I run, for the people I've killed, for Carlisle, for Alice, for Edward, for Rue, in the hopes that I won't join her. She doesn't deserve that.
It isn't long before we're coughing again, like that dreadful fire in the forest that nearly took Edward's life. The ash is more like hydrochloric acid than anything that should be in the air, and my lungs feel like they're about to burst. The sun is gone, replaced by ash, night, and fire. This is death, reincarnated into life.
I hear something whooshing! behind us. I look behind a fraction of a degree and see the chunk of rock, headed directly for Cato. "Look out!" I shout, and it feels like swallowing lava. He dodges out of the way just in time, and a glimmer of gratitude briefly crosses his face. It's us and them; us versus the Capitol, like it should have been this whole time.
Edward runs ahead of me, and even bounding forward, flying with my wings, no longer made of stars but of ash and inferno, doesn't catch me up to him. He leads, and I follow, and Cato seems to trail behind reluctantly. Edward has the air of a leader. I wonder if he would have been a man of power had the Spanish Influenza not given him this life. I wonder if he would have been a man of power had we had been thrown into a world where humans and vampires lived in peace, rather than the Panem that we found. In the fiery ash and smoke, I begin to wonder what it feels like to breathe fresh air. Memory isn't survival, so it's out of my reach.
The ground begins to shake again, splitting apart in places, revealing molten rock beneath the surface. We stop running, and my instincts scream at me, trying to keep out balance.
"We have to get to the high ground!" yells Edward over the chaos. Or maybe it's a whisper and my ears are still ringing from the explosion.
"What high ground?!" I cry. "There isn't high ground!"
"There has to be!" says Edward. I nearly lose what should be perfect balance as the Earth gives a rather violent shake, and he catches me by the shoulder. "The Capitol has to have a place full of cameras and equipment that won't be destroyed by the blast! The best place for that is high ground, where they can film us, away from the lava! There are more hills beyond the temple! We have to go! Bella, I…" The last part is quiet, just for me, but he stops mid-sentence.
The world morphs from tropical paradise to hellish nightmare. Lava begins seeping out of the Earth, covering the ground. Then we're flying again, dodging the puddles that hurt even when though I don't touch them. Normally, we could get to the hills easily, but between the maze of liquid-fire with safety becoming a smaller and smaller margin and the shaking of the ground, it takes longer than it should.
Distantly, I hear the screaming of a girl and the shouting of a man. I tense, but keep running, knowing that some worse danger is coming for us. Something like nausea twists in my gut. Then there's a cannon, and Thresh's face flashes in the sky.
Somehow, I wish I had a chance to spare his life, too.
The girl in the distance stops screaming, but it's no later that Edward pulls me behind him, shielding me. Over his shoulder, I can barely see it: fiery rocks fly towards us, hundreds of them. A nearby, guttural cry tells me that Cato's been hit. Edward barely dodges out of the way, and then I can see it: the career Tribute is wailing in pain, clutching the stump where his arm used to be and, in shock, picking the deformed marble up out of the ashes. His face is twisted in a pain that I've only known once.
We keep running, and Cato stumbles along beside us, but he looks feral, inhuman, and I sense that, in the agony, he's decided that our alliance is at an end. I see our goal nearby, and regret that we'll be enemies once we get there.
My thoughts become a whirlwind of admiration for Edward, who's become so much like his father, who is like an angel, carrying me away from the fires of Hell, hatred that burns brighter than the volcano for the Capitol, and survival, but the three are so intertwined — Edward helps me survive, my hatred fuels the need to — that I can think with frightening clarity. Frightening because I know with absolute certainty that I am going to die. I am going to die, or I won't and Edward will, and then I'll die inside because I know now that I'm strong and I can survive without him, even if it won't really be living. This is the end, and there's nothing I can do about it except move my feet faster, towards the high ground that might be our salvation.
"This way!" says Edward, gesturing to me as well as to Cato. The hill is rocky, steep, and jagged in an unnatural way. Edward and I claw our way to the top and Cato follows behind, unable to quite reach the top without an arm.
The landscape is unreal. Fire has consumed everything, only the tallest of trees, now burning, still standing. It runs like a red and orange river, and I hate the ash and smell of it.
"The climax," I murmur, before I've noticed that I'm speaking.
"'I hold with those who favor fire,'" says Edward quietly, into my ear, and I give a sharp laugh.
"I think I'd prefer ice right now," I say as I look up at him. There's a wild look about him, a roguish one that I've only seen in fleeting moments before now. Despite the survival instincts no doubt coursing through him right now, I see not a vampire, but a scared seventeen-year-old. His hands against me feel cold compared to the air, and I press myself against him as he holds me. It makes me feel like I'm human again, and back in the days where I was safe in his arms.
The lava continues to rise around us, the heat like nothing I've ever felt, and I hear Cato screaming as it nears him. It stops abruptly, like all of the other Capitol death-traps do. Edward was right: they have to keep some place in-tact for the cameras. Cato's noises cease, turning into a whimper and then a growl. But I still hear screaming.
I see her in the distance, the red-headed, fox-faced girl. Melanie, the telepath, like Edward. She's climbed a tree thirty yards away, as intelligent as always, but I can't see a way for her to make it to the rocks. The lava rises around her, and the tree's trunk burns but doesn't fall, as though the Capitol wants to draw out her suffering. The branch she sits on is burning, and she screams in fury, hatred, and terror. She is already doomed, and she knows it.
Then she meets Edward's eyes and freezes. I see, rather than hear, the words that pass between the two mind-readers. I know he hears her terror and she feels his calm. The hatred seems to abate, and she stops screaming.
"It's okay," says Edward smoothly, in the voice I've heard him use to dazzle others. "It's going to be okay."
The fox-faced girl shakes her head vigorously. I don't hear her amidst the chaotic noise, but I see her mouth one word. Remember. I understand, and so does she, apparently; this death is horrific, and it can be used as a weapon.
Then she jumps, towards safety, and for a moment I think that her vampiric strength will bring her to us, but then she falls and I know she won't make it. There's a horrible hissing sound and she moans, rather than screams, in anguish. Edward's face in contorted in pain, but he holds my hand tightly. I smell the horrid scent, like putrid, defiled incense. Just before she goes under, Melanie's face becomes calm, relaxed, as she focuses on Edward, and something unspoken between them. A cannon goes off. Her face is next in the sky.
There are three of us left.
"Bella," says Edward quietly, "I love — "
Something knocks into me from behind with the force of a battering ram. Something claws at me and I'm on the ground, my face digging into the rock, and it's then that I realize that I've screamed and am still screaming. I slam my fist into the ground and press myself up to face my attacker. Cato snarls.
"You did this to me, little girl," he growls. I grab for a strand of hair and yank. He hisses, and when I knee him so hard he flies into the air he howls. I jump to my feet and Cato lands upright before charging at me. As he comes I swing a fist towards him, but he stops mid-stride and dodges. Edward rushes at him from behind and narrowly misses Cato's neck. As a wave of sulfur and acidic ash wafts our way, the realization that it would only take a well-placed hit to send either one of us flying into the fire crawls its way into my gut.
I need to stop him, I think. I kick at his broken arm, and hear the crack of shattering stone. He cries out and then, with his now-useless limb, punches me in the shoulder. A sharp pain explodes near my neck as the shards dig into my skin. Red fills my vision and I lunge at him, bringing both of us towards the fire. I wrap my arms around him from behind and squeeze. He groans, struggling under my grip. He's stronger than me but one false move could plunge us into the fire. Cato leans backward and my heel touches the edge. Edward meets my eyes, fear in them.
A fountain of fire erupts behind me. For a moment I don't register the danger because it happens so fast, and then Hell's finger has touched my hair and it's on fire. I scream, and time slows down. There's a moment of deliberation where I know that I could let the fire consume the both of us. Edward is safe. He would survive, the lone Victor from District 12. But then survival overrides the choice and I jump back to the center of our nightmarish haven, putting out the flames with speed and my hands.
For a moment I'm dazed because the burns still feel like fire and acid and I don't know whether or not I'm safe. My hand grips at the hot rock beneath me, and I take a stone away. Half of it is molten, the other half not. Confused with pain, I pause and hold it in my palm.
Cato takes the opportunity. He launches himself at Edward with impressive speed, tearing him away from me with a firm, psychic kick that I don't feel in time to deflect. He wraps his good arm around Edward's neck and begins to back towards the edge. "Thought I wasn't a threat anymore, did you?"
He doesn't look like a threat. The horror of this night has disfigured him. He's missing part of an arm, and parts of his shoulder are chipped off. His face is badly burnt, and in a morbid twist of fate, part of his tooth has broken off, making it shaped like a fang. He looks like a vampire, one of the ones from Hollywood, but the pained expression on his face and the despair in his eyes make my dead heart clench.
"Well, I'm not," Cato chokes out. He takes a few more steps back. "Not anymore. Never was, I guess. Just believed those lies they told me about glory, fame, and power. But you've won, Isabelle Swan. You've won. And I'm going to die, and you're going to win, but he'll die, too. I'm going to kill him." He gives a sob. "I'm a killer. Even before this, I was a killer. It's the only thing I know how to do. So I'll kill him." His voice is more broken than his face. It's grotesque, like a horror movie, but for some reason it only makes me sad.
Cato is just another pawn in the Games. Like me. "You don't — "
"Or who knows," he says, not listening. Then he growls, "maybe I'll win after all." I see his grip tighten and a cluster of cracks form on Edward's jaw. "Maybe I'll kill him, and then you, and I'll win after all. That's what Clove would want. I think that might be what I want."
I take a step forward.
"Stop!" Cato demands. "One more step, and I'll snap his neck, send his head tumbling into the fire. I dunno, maybe I'll fall with him. But then you'll be alone."
No, I think. But the images come without my permission: me, the lone victor from District 12. I've hallucinated it. And you've known from the beginning that it's true, says a voice that sounds like a collage of the voices of everyone who's ever hated me — James, Aro, Victoria, and worst of all Rosalie. Maybe Alice saw me at these crossroads, floundering and without an option, victorious but still the loser. "No," I say aloud.
He starts laughing, but there is no joy in the sound. "I'm a killer. It's what I have to be. Make your choice." His lips form a triumphant smile.
Edward struggles briefly, bringing his hands up to Cato's, but my enemy's smile doesn't falter; he knows how strong he is. Then Edward moves his forefinger in a very deliberate fashion, making a small x on Cato's hand. I realize what this means, and then Cato does and his the gleam in his eyes falter, but I've made my choice before his face can even fall.
I throw the burning rock at the back of his palm. He gasps, stumbling backwards, and letting Edward out of his grasp. He rushes at me, teeth barred, and for a moment panic grips me: I'm too close to the ledge. Edward puts his arm out to stop him, pressing him backwards. Cato, still burning, loses his balance. It only takes a swift kick to send him hurtling into the flame.
The Capitol isn't satisfied. Lava clears from the place where he lands on his back, a small rock where he can stay safely. Then the fire slowly moves towards him, and there's a horrible noise as it begins to burn away at his flesh. A dry sob courses through me, because it's over but they're not satisfied with that. He screams as his body burns away, and I want to stop it but I can't. Edward turns me away and pulls me close as the volcano destroys all.
Then they're silence, but I can still hear Cato breathing. I peek behind me and wish I didn't: he's pained, horribly disfigured, and this is not the worst part. Mutts, like the ones they sent after me in the forest but flaming and made of coal, rise out of the inferno and dig their claws into him, making him smolder rather than combust. The lava has receded somewhat, and I see him shakily make it to his feet before the fire Mutts begin to have their way for them. He screams again, shouts for help, but there is nothing we can do. No tribute can save him, no sponsor would dare to help, and Cato is going to die.
Then there's a hovercraft in the sky and the anthem plays, but there are no trumpets of victory, because Cato is still alive.
The moments pass by, painfully, sluggishly. The following hours are the worst of my life. When Edward left me, it mutilated me inside, but watching the mutilation of another is a new horror, one that burns and tastes like bile in the pit of my stomach. The inferno around us is nightmarish, but worse is listening to Cato screaming until a human throat would be raw, begging for his life, and finally whimpering softly as the fire consumes him.
"Why don't they just kill him?" I ask under my breath.
"You know why," says Edward, and I do. From the perspective of the Capitol and the Gamemakers, this is the height of television entertainment — a young boy losing the battle for his life. When I dare to look at the savage show they're putting on, I see the despair in his eyes and know that he's ready to die, but the Capitol is holding onto him. They have to have their finale, and with every passing second I feel more sick. I make the mistake of watching, and even though I've turned away, my stomach churns and I don't think it will ever stop.
It continues, on and on, until there is nothing else, even Edward's presence nothing but a void. The hell-scape around us warps away into nothingness, my memories, dreams, and hopes for the future snatched into oblivion, until nothing is left but the boy dying to the fire.
The moon has shifted from one side of the sky to the other, but it hasn't ended yet.
Cato's last cry is a shuddering breath and he goes still. Some of the air has stilled, some of the lava has cooled, and it's nearly dawn. Some of my enemy is left unburnt, and for a dreadful philosophical moment, I wonder how we know for sure that vampires fall unconscious and die after they've been turned to ash.
Apparently the Capitol doesn't stop to wonder. A cannon goes off.
We've won, and now I stare out at the nightmare, waiting for it to end.
"He's gone," I say flatly, my voice devoid of victory and life, too. A bird flies overhead, and I wonder how long it's been; how close it is to dawn.
"It's over, Bella," says Edward softly. "It's over."
"Is it?" I look up at him. His shirt is a thin rag; dirt covers his face; there's a small scar that he must have received during the fight, glinting on his neck; his hair looks white, like that of an old man, because of the ash that falls like snow but feels like fire in my lungs; he is beautiful. "Bella, I love you," he finally finishes.
My sobbing stops abruptly as my eyes fall on his lips. They're white, too, from breathing the air. I think I want to kiss him, but I can't. Not after Cato's death, after Foxface's death, after Thresh, Rue, and the others. Why am I still alive…?
I'm aware that he tastes like ash and smoke before I'm aware that he's kissed me.
It isn't comfortable and it isn't a fairy tale, but it's slow and languid, the only thing without fire in the entirety of the landscape. We're injured and hurting creatures, and the kiss is filled with his hope and my despair. His hand comes up to caress my cheek and my hand tangles in his hair, ash falling to the ground as I do so, and I'm only vaguely aware that his breath tastes better than the air through the overwhelming guilt that bites through it.
Abruptly, I pull away. "No," I say quietly. "Edward, it's — "
I'm cut off by the booming voice of Claudius Templesmith.
"Greetings to the final contestants of the 74th Hunger Games. The earlier revision has been… revoked. Closer examination of the rule book has disclosed that only one victor may be crowned," he says. "Good luck and may the odds be ever in your favor."
I stare at Edward in disbelief as the truth slams into me. If my heart was beating before Claudius Templesmith spoke, it would be no longer. They never intended to let us live. The Gamemakers lied to us. They only wanted a good show, and I played as their pawn, willingly.
Edward backs away from me, the horror on his face hidden by a paper-thin mask. He moves towards the pool of lava, still molten and hot —
"No!" I shout. "No."
"It's not that surprising, Bella," says Edward softly. And it isn't: I knew this would happen, one way or another, and I was a fool to hope.
"You can't," I say. "You won't."
"I'm sorry."
"You promised!" A dry sob runs through me. "You promised… you'd never leave me again…"
"I also promised you — and your father, and mine — I would protect you. And I intend to honor that promise," he says.
"Then I'll jump!" I say furiously. "I'll jump, and then you won't have to worry about protecting me anymore, and you can go home. Your family needs you, Edward, so much more than they need me…" I walk forward, and then he bounds forward to stop me. "Let me jump!" I order, and he looks at me sadly.
"You know I won't," Edward says. "You know I can't. Let me save you."
"No. You can't… you can't do this, Edward! You can't kill yourself!"
He doesn't answer for a long time. "Isabelle," he says, using my Capitol name. "It's what I want."
"You're not leaving me here alone," I say. If he dies, I'll never go home, not really. I'll spend eternity in this arena, trying to think my way out. I'll be a ghost, a zombie. One of the Capitol Mutts, except my mutation will be one that makes me unable to feel happiness, not one that make me prime television.
"Bella," says Edward softly, gripping both of my forearms and pulling me closer to him. The sun has begun to rise, and neither of us are really sparkling; the thick layer of grime makes it look more like sweat. "We know they have to have a victor. Let me jump. Let me save you." He talks about how he loves me, how I'm his midnight sun, but I can't listen because his words are desperately floundering in my skull.
We know they have to have a victor.
They must have a victor. That's the point of the Games, from the Capitol's point of view. To the rest of us and the politicians, it's a show of power, but the victor represents the Capitol, represents the strong. If the Gamemakers failed to give them a victor, they'd have failed their government. They would be punished.
If Edward and I were both to die…
"No," I say, bringing him closer to the edge with me. "No, I won't let you. Not on your own."
His eyes widen, and he tries to pull me away from the ledge. "Bella — "
"Come out onto the ledge with me," I say, nodding towards the place where the lava still runs like a red, angry river, reminding me of the blood running through animals as they die under my grip. The lion hunts the lamb, the lamb hunts the lion, and now it's about to hunt me again… The sight of it sends a thrill of terror down my spine, its sulfury smell choking and drowning me, but I know that it's my only chance to ever breathe free air again. Edward doesn't let me go as I try to move. "Trust me," I whisper. He holds my gaze for a long moment, and then he seems to understand.
Holding me close, he brings me to the ledge. The rock creaks beneath our feet, but doesn't crack. It's thin here, and it won't take much to fall into the fire. "On the count of three?" I ask softly.
Edward leans down and kisses me very gently. "The count of three," he says.
We stand, holding each other, on the edge, the very end, of eternity. He gives my hand a squeeze, and we begin counting. "One." I could be about to die. Maybe they don't care if there is no victor. "Two." But the Capitol will. Long after the fire that claims our lives has died, maybe its embers will spark a rebellion. "Three." We pause, unsure.
"Forever," I say, and Edward nods.
"Forever," he says, and then it's too late to change our minds; we pull each other towards the blaze. We're just about to fall when the trumpets begin to blare.
The voice of Claudius Templesmith, frantic, shouts over them. "Stop! Stop! Ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased to present the victors of the 74th Hunger Games, Isabella Swan and Edward Cullen! I give you — the tributes of District 12!"
Pretty much exactly like The Hunger Games. It changes next chapter, and, just to let you know, that was one of two climaxes. If anyone can guess what happens, I applaud you. :) Actually, I applaud you if you review, because that means you've been waiting for me to update… 0.0 I am deeply sorry, and thank you.