A/N- This is slightly different from my other chapters, with a field trip for Finnick added in, but I hope you don't mind. Thanks for reading.
The next two months seem to drag out endlessly. It's like when there's ten minutes left before you have to be somewhere, and you just stand around, not really doing anything since there's no time to start something. I couldn't really get comfortable with Annie because of her Victory Tour looming just around the corner. She was terrified of it, going into fits where she wouldn't stop screaming about "them", crying because she knew "they" were going to take her away again. It hurt me so badly every time that she did that, because my hands were tied behind my back. I couldn't do anything to help her, and that was made more obvious every second.
Maybe it's a blessing in disguise that Snow invited me to do some kind of historical thing for this District 4 special that they're doing, just a day after Annie left.
I get taken onto another train, but this time it isn't to the Capitol, it's to the arena. I'm nervous, but I manage to mostly keep it off my mind by watching footage of the Victory Tour. Annie makes her speech in District 12 just an hour after I leave. I don't pay too much attention, because I know it's just something someone from the Capitol wrote for her, but I still keep an eye on the tv. Then, I notice a pair of hard gray eyes looking at her from the front row. District Twelve's lone victor, Haymitch Abernathy. I look at him, how he's slumped over in his seat, obviously drunk. But those eyes…. I'm immediately positive that he was the one who met me in that little Capitol café, the one who told me to meet with Plutarch.
I look at him for a second, then go back to the book I was reading. Does it matter? There are rebels in different districts. It's just… there's something different about him, this kind of mystery that surrounds him. Why haven't I ever seen his Games, or anything about him. I know his name, but that's just from his mentoring year after year. Really, I can't even call it mentoring. District 12 hasn't even been close to having a victor after him, and I doubt they ever will, mostly because he never does anything to help them. I've heard rumors around the Capitol that he drinks through the entire Games.
I can't be too mad at him, though. If I was forced to mentor two tributes by myself year after year, and never get a single one that got even close to winning, well, I'd probably start just drowning it out too. The only way that Mags has survived so long is that she goes by that rule, that ultimatum she gave me before my Games. Listen to her, listen to every word she says, and she'll try to help. And if I don't, well, then she'll let me die. Then Borglum…
This weird panic takes me over then, the pictures on the tv blurring before my eyes. Borglum is dead, and obviously none of the other Victors have wanted to mentor before. That means that the youngest will have to, if no one else volunteers. And that's Annie, so it's a given that I'll take her spot, if no one else says anything. I bury my face in my hands. No, no way. I can't… but I'll have to, I'm almost sure of it. I'll talk to Mags when the time comes to decide, but I know that she'll tell me what I already figured out.
I rest my head back against my chair and close my eyes, digesting that new obstacle that's been thrown in my path. Then I pick it up, and toss it to the back of my head, where it belongs. Right now, I have a job to do. If I do it well enough, maybe I'll get away from my other job, my actual job. I doubt it, but since I'll spend most of the time at my old arena, filming there, maybe I'll be spared the girls.
Although I'm not sure what's worse: reliving and talking about scenes from my Games on a special that'll be airing as soon as Annie's victory tour is done, in some huge District 4 marathon they're running because of the recent deaths, or sleeping with random girls, some of which are twice my age. I guess I'll have to wait and see exactly what they're going to have me do when we get ther.
I manage to catch some footage of Annie's banquet at District 12, which is really nothing more than a party in their ancient town square. I just watch it to see enough of Annie to calm me down as we approach the arena. At the time, their mayor is cutting into a huge cake, beautifully decorated like the ocean. A smile crosses my face as I see Annie standing behind him, her long brown hair blowing into her rosy face. Snow dusts the ground there, falling lightly from the air and decorating Annie's hair. She's smiling, and her eyes are lit up brightly, taking in everything. There's still that edge of wariness, but she looks happy enough that I can convince myself to turn the tv off just as the mayor hands Annie a piece of that beautiful cake, so obviously the only nice thing in that entire ceremony.
"Are you coming, Finnick?" Alva calls into my room. I throw on a jacket, then jog out of my room.
"Coming," I tell her. Then she leads me off the train, and down into the catacombs under the arena.
Suddenly, I'm fourteen again. Scared, but cocky, confident. Every nerve in my body is tensed up and wondering what I'm going to do when I get into the arena, how I'm going to meet up with Arowana, what everything will look like. It's like déjà vu to the point that the part of me that's still in the present is wondering if I have some kind of horrible mental disorder.
Nothing has changed, not at all. I heard they put up posters and plaques, stuff like that, but they must have taken them down for when they tape me. I touch the chair I sat in, the place where I saw my outfit for the first time, that blue tunic and those black pants, the thick coat and boots. Just as I'm thinking of that, remembering analyzing them to see what the weather in the arena will be like, Alva gently taps my shoulder, like she knows that I'm definitely not in that room.
"Yeah?" I ask, touching everything, reliving it, even though it isn't something I want to relieve. It's just that being there again, being the Finnick I used to be, it actually feels good. I knew who I was then, here, and now I feel myself slipping back into that skin, back into the true Finnick Odair. Not the Capitol's pet, not the broken man from District 4, but the person that everyone listens to, no one questions, and that doesn't question himself.
"I know you may not want to, but they want you to wear what you did for the Games." I look back at her.
"I look nothing like I did five years ago." And I don't. I'm at least four inches taller, the boyish features gone, and my shoulders noticeably broader. It's weird to think about, but right now, I'm only a little under a year older than Titus was at the time he was in my Games. That's when it dawns at me how unfair it really is for the younger ones, why seventeen and eighteen year olds nearly always win. I'm so much faster, so much stronger, and so much smarter than I was back then. I guess it's lucky I was beautiful.
"They know that, but it will be more authentic." So, just like that morning my life changed forever, I change in the catacombs. Only I don't give Sylvia a good-bye hug, because she's not there. And I don't go into the arena alone. A camera crew follows, with Alva on their tail.
As soon as I see everything again, I'm completely gone. The clouds still look like cotton balls pinned into the sky. The grass is still soft as cashmere, and if anything, the flowers are brighter. Birdsong still rings through the air, and the platforms the tributes once stood on are in the exact same places. The cornucopia still gleams in the sun, and even more unbelievable is that they've put all of the weapons back, in perhaps the same place.
"Are those the weapons the tributes used?" I ask breathlessly.
"The weapons are the same, but the packs and supplies have been duplicated. Any weapons that you used are on display in the museum outside the arena." The only thing I wanted to hear about was the weapons, so I walk over to the cornucopia and search until I find Arowana's golden sword. I hold it against my chest, tracing the blade with my fingers. I can still feel her on it. I can feel her beauty, her strength, and her undying love for her family, even on her deathbed. I don't cry, but if I wasn't slipping back into the person I was in the arena, I think I would have. Instead, I set it down gently and walk away.
I scope out every little place that had any significance, surprised by how much I remember. That's the tree I hid in while I was waiting for Arowana. Those are the packs I grabbed, and that's where my spear was, now replaced by a duplicate. I listen to the stream, now bubbling quietly like it did at the start of the Games. In my mind, I go through all the phases it went through. The raging torrent, after the rain, and then when it went completely dry.
"Are you okay?" someone asks. I'm more than okay. I want to stay. The arena was so simple, and right now, it's beautiful. There's no one trying to kill me, no Gamemakers ready to throw in a tornado if things get to boring.
Remembering the tornado, I look to see if it's warpath is still there, and adrenaline starts flowing through my veins when I realize it is. A little ways off, you can see the trees uprooted and onto their sides, like a giant came through, tossing them around whichever way he felt like. It's amazing.
"I'm fine," I finally answer.
"Are you ready to start?" Alva asks me. I nod, even though I don't know if I want to. If we start, then we'll have to finish.
First, we go to the place where I made my first kill. Arowana and I were about to cross the stream when I saw something move out from behind a tree. Without even realizing that it was a human being, I fired my spear at him. He died. I remember what that first kill was like, how I thought about his family and friends and what they think of me. That was the last regret I felt during the Games, though. When everyone is out to kill you, it's easy to get over it.
Someone hands me a spear, and tells me to stand in a spot that I'm sure is the exact same place where I killed the boy.
"Slowing everything down and being as honest as possible, what was going through your mind when you made that first kill." I tell the truth. I don't know if it's because I'm still sickly giddy of what, but I don't lie.
"My mind was completely clear. I just saw something moving behind me, so I turned," I turn around slowly, like I probably did during the Games, "and threw the spear. Then it hit the kid, and he crumpled to the ground with this horrible noise." I shiver, some of that giddiness going away. Being in the arena is fun. Remembering back when I was the real Finnick is fun. Talking about killing people, yeah, not so fun.
"That was your first kill, did it hurt you any?" I look at the place where I know the boy fell.
"Yeah, it did. Your first kill…. You get this horrible feeling in your heart, and all you can think about is what their family and friends must think about you." I realize that Snow may not like that, so I hurry up to saw more. "Then you remember that he was going to kill you too, and you figure that you better get used to it. Then, it gets easier. You realize that you have a family, too, and that you won't be able to get back to them if you can't stand to take the life of a kid that's hunting you." They ask a few more questions, then take me to where the next kill took place. If I understood everything right, we're going over all my kills first, then other major events.
This was really the only time I was close to dying, when I decided to take on the guy from 12 instead of running. For some reason, I wonder if Haymitch remembers that. I guess he didn't seem mad when he saw me before, if it truly was him.
"Arowana wanted to run when she saw him, didn't she?" one of the camera people asks. I nod.
"She saw them and told me to get out of there. I don't know exactly what went through my head, but I just remember that I didn't want to run. I thought he'd be so easy to kill, that I should take him out so he wouldn't do the same to me later."
"Your plan didn't work like you thought it would, though, did it?" I manage a smile.
"Not quite."
"Take us through it." So I do. I show them how I was speaking up behind him, but he heard me. He had me against the tree with a knife to my face, but he'd hesitated. I don't know if he was hoping for some kind of cool dramatic effect, but he kept that knife pointed at me just a second too long. I, however, didn't hesitate. I thrust my knife through his stomach, and he dropped dead.
We do that, going through all seven of my kills, which lead all tributes. They pay special attention to when I killed the girl from 1.
"The beautiful ones are always the most fun to kill?" one of them asks, questioning a quote which has established itself as a Capitol favorite. I shrug, not exactly thrilled with remember that particular part of these Games.
"We were arguing, going back and forth. She mentioned how I fooled them all in training, pretended to be just another pretty face, and I taunted her, saying something about how she couldn't have messed up my beautiful face. Then she actually said that quote, it was originally hers. Well, I got her to chase me, dropped my net, stabbed her with the trident, and then sort of threw that quote back in her face."
Again, they ask a few more questions, have me go through the chase in slow motion, trying to explain what was going through my head. I have to wonder why they didn't do this like the year after my Games, when this stuff would've been so much more fresh in my head, but then I realize that they probably wouldn't have needed to. They're probably just doing it now because there's so little news, and the last two Games really haven't been that exciting. I mean, in Annie's so many people died from that flood, and the one before that was done in days. People are getting bored, and since I'm the most entertaining tribute, Snow probably just wants his ratings to go up.
We go over the last kill, how winning the Games felt, then we're taken back through the arena to go over some other things. First, they ask me about the fight.
I get to go back to the cave and everything. As soon as I set foot in the little crevice in the rock that I spent so much time in, I collapse on the ground, just feel the cool stone under my hands again. So much happened in here, so much changed.
The camera crew doesn't give me much time to think, though. They take me back to the fight with Arowana.
"Can you go over what exactly happened to start that fight?"
"I hadn't woken her up to take her watch or something stupid like that, and she sort of freaked out on me. I told her that I was worried or that I didn't want her to get hurt, and she thought I was lying. I guess I sort of ignored her at school, and maybe I could've given off the impression of being a jerk, but whatever it was, she basically told me I was a prick, and would use my little sister as a human shield or something. I blew up, and somehow everything ended with a knife to her neck."
"But you didn't kill her," someone says.
"I couldn't like that. I needed a partner, and I did like her. Killing her then would've been underhanded, not to mention stupid. So, I did the next best thing. I kissed her."
"Or tried to," someone elaborates. I flash a grin that is so classic Finnick that it surprises me. Reliving this part of the Games isn't so bad.
"Yeah. She sort of got pissed at me, and God was it awkward after that." They laugh, then usher me to the spot of the tornado. We go through that, then they ask me about the plan to net the tributes that never really worked out.
"Well, my dad directs most of the fishing boats from Four, so I've been working on those boats since I could walk. It was only natural for me to go fishing. We even threw in the idea of bait, but I guess neither of us were sure about that. Arowana died before we could try that, but then I got that trident."
"So you just modified your plan for one?"
"Yes. And that's how I won."
We talk a little more about the Games, but then we're done, and they start to usher me out of the arena. I stick behind, just for a while. My senses are so much more tuned in here, and everything seems more vibrant than real life. Every color, every smell, every sound is times ten.
It's beautiful, marvelous, and even the ghosts that haunt the arena don't change that. I'm someone else here, someone that isn't hurt by the past. I know that as soon as I step out of here, that revisiting everything will hurt me, but right now, now it truly feels good. I take a deep breath before I leave, hoping that maybe it'll help me hold onto this person a little longer.
I don't think anyone could consider it a good thing, but that day, I think it truly realize for the first time that every person is built for some place specifically, that there's a certain environment where they're at their best. Annie's is the ocean. Mine, mine is in the arena for some twisted reason. I remember how I used to worry that I was born for the Capitol, how I'd fit in so perfectly there. I was wrong. I'm not built for the Capitol. I'm built for the Games, the epitome of what a tribute should be. Even afterwards, the attributes that made my Games so easy for me have stuck around.
I have no idea if this should scare me, or if it changes anything, but it makes me hyperaware of everything I've done, every action I've taken. It's interesting to see, how one person can play a part so well, so exactly. Maybe, maybe now I'll finally be able to relax and slip into the role that I've been given, even though it's not the one I want. President Snow may be thrilled that he has such a perfect tribute, but hedoesn't know that I'm not playing his Games anymore. Plutarch Heavensbee is starting his own Games, and he's laying down his own rules. Now, I'm switching sides under the President's nose, and hopefully one of his biggest weapons is going to end up being his downfall.