The New Deal
The smell of dirt and pine surround her. Summer rays warm the streets. In the distance sawmills buzz.
Home.
She takes another step, peering to her side. August is there. He is smiling, he is laughing. When she looks at him his blue eyes glimmer.
"Where have you been?"
A slight expression of questioning covers Pandora's face, "What?"
"You're gone."
"I'm here—I'm right here—"
Her hands reach out to him and, for a split second, she grasps his shoulders. At first there is no sign of emotion on his face, but slowly he smiles.
She smiles back.
She is happy.
Thunder breaks through the joy, followed by the earth-shattering harmony of glass splintering.
Suddenly the warm sun is gone. It's fading into nothing.
August is staring at something to the east.
"August—I'm here!"
She tries desperately to grab his attention, but he doesn't look at her. He won't look at her.
His smile has vanished.
She dares to follow his gaze, towards the knolls and mountains beyond.
The hills' green has melted into black tar. The tar looks like it has a mind of its own, it's slithering towards the buildings like a monstrous flood of snakes.
Blood crimson is rising from the tree line. A single movement in the distance beckons her fears to be remembered.
It's a flag.
A Capitol Flag.
The golden Panem crest hatefully stares at her.
"August! We have to go!"
A crack rips from below.
Her eyes widened.
The ground is opening up.
"August!"
Her hold on him has slipped. She needs to get to him. She needs to save her brother. But the more she calls to him, the harder it is to see his face.
Heat rises from the cracks.
Her eyes squint in pain to see a fire brewing below.
When she looks back up her feet stumble back. She is back in the arena. The city of ruins surrounds her.
"August! Run!"
But her brother remains.
He crooks his head like a zombie. His face is changing.
"I'm gone," his whisper makes Pandora cringe.
The transformation continues. His features morph. She draws back in horror. Marius. It's Marius.
"No…" she shudders in doubt, it can't be. He's dead.
He's not real, but there is no time for logic.
She swallows the dryness of fear, "Run! Marius go!"
Another crack fractures throughout the ground.
She tries to run for him but the stones are falling out from under her. She gasps. Blood is all over her hands, making her grip on the rocks slick.
"Marius!"
Her lungs fill with sulfuric air as she feels her feet give.
Suddenly she is falling, falling forever. History is repeating itself, only this time there is no Capitol aircraft to catch her in a net and fly her to Victory.
Heat rises all around her, whipping her hair violently around her shoulders, chest, and face.
Her hands reach out as her body drops into the gorge. There is nothing to grab except air.
Her limbs tighten. Her back arches against the fire's roar. She is bracing for impact, she is bracing for death.
Just before darkness swallows her, she hears the boom of the cannon. Through the sliver of sky, from the depths of hell, Pandora catches sight of an image projected above. An image of her.
A blood curdling screams echoes from her as she peers around and gasps. Everything is going away, the fire is turning blue and then black.
Shadows.
Suddenly she is in the dark.
There is no fire, no lights, no sound.
Her breath trembles as she feels around, only to touch icy metal and glass.
"Marius? August?!"
Suddenly an unnatural and dim blue light turns on.
Pandora is in a hospital gown. Wires cover her arms, head, and chest. In a fit she pants and gasps, ripping them off and climbing to her feet.
It takes her a moment to see through the blue murkiness, but slowly her eyes focus. She can see mirrors, mirrors all over. Her reflection is staring at her, glaring at her. She is frightened of herself.
"Marius?!"
Whispers.
Her heart jumps.
She turns from left to right. There is nothing but mirrors.
Another set of whispers, this time louder. They are saying her name.
She takes in a breath and spins around.
Near the end of the long room is a glass cylinder, a tank. Blue glowing liquid has filled it, simmering with bubbles. It's the source of the faint blue light.
There is something inside.
Though fear swallows her she takes a step, and then another. As she approaches the form's shadow falls over her.
Someone is in the tank, suspended, his face hooked up to a mask.
He seems to dangle lifelessly.
She creeps forward, afraid and sick.
Her hands press against the glass.
Her head cranes forward.
The glass is cold. The air smells sterile.
As the body glides around to face her, Pandora's eyes widen. She shakes her head.
"No…"
A wheeze ruptures in her chest. Her eyes fill with confusion and terror.
His eyes are closed, his body limp and naked, but there is no doubt who he is. His blond hair, the color of light, stares at her.
"Adric?"
A scream roared from her sweating body. Her hair was sticking to her neck and shoulders.
At first dizziness overcame her. Her body painfully keeled forward. Her eyes weakly peered to the Capitol's lights.
It was a dream. A nightmare.
"Adric…" she repeated the name aloud, rubbing her head in confusion.
Everytime she awoke from one of her nightmares Pandora had the intense impression that she had been through a time warp, that her organs were liquefying and her bones breaking. It all in her head, but the pain still took a moment to repress.
When the white noise passed, a beeping pierced her ears. It had been going off for some time but she had only just noticed it.
Her eyes widened as she turned her face to the nightstand.
Though her breathes were still uneven she grabbed for the phone.
"Yes?"
"Pandora, are you there?"
"Finnick? It's the middle of the night."
"I'm sorry, I—please let me come up. I just need to see you. I—"
His words were all chopped up.
"Alright. Just hold on."
Tense sleep lingered in her feet and legs as she hung up the phone and crawled off her bed. The city lights bled into the loft, lighting her path as she made her way to the front door and pressed a single red button on the side.
Minutes passed, just enough time to allow her whole body to break into a sweat again.
Images of her nightmare gnawed at her, but before she can make any sense of them she heard steady knocks.
Her eyes squinted as light from the corridor shed in through the crack of the door.
Finnick looked exhausted. Dark circles lurked underneath his eyes.
"What's the matter?"
"I need to come in."
Pandora nodded, "Of course."
As he stepped into the darkness of her loft she could hear something strange from him. It sounded like he was whimpering.
"Finnick…"
"They're gone."
His words caused her to freeze. They reminded her of the nightmare.
"What?"
"I—I told them to stick together. I should have never said that."
Suddenly Pandora realized what was happening. The Games. Her hands searched through the darkness for him. When she finally reached his back she felt his whole body shudder.
"It's okay."
"I—I should have done better."
He sounded like he was hyperventilating.
"Look at me, Finnick."
But he kept his back to her. The sobs grew.
"Finnick!"
It wasn't hard for Pandora to force him around, he seemed to give in as soon as she tried. Although it was dark she could see his face, a face riddled with pain and tears.
"This isn't you're fault."
A cry, so child-like and innocent, echoed from him, "They're dead, Pandora!"
Pandora stared into his eyes. There was nothing for her to say. No way she could make this better.
Slowly she parted her lips, her arms wrapped around him, her head rested on his chest.
She could hear his heart racing.
"I'm here."
Immediately he answered her hug. He squeezed her so tight she couldn't breath for a second, but she didn't care.
"Don't leave me," he stammered, "I can't—I can't do this anymore."
She nestled closer to him, "You're tired, you haven't rested. You need sleep."
"No…it's not the sleeplessness. This place is poison!"
"Shh—" her hand gently reached for his hair. As she stroked his hair her other hand slowly soothingly rubbed his back, "You will get through this."
"I can't!"
"Finnick."
Her eyes lifted to him, a kaleidoscope of dim city lights vaguely illuminated their faces. She reached for his cheek, her eyes widened sincerely, "I believe in you."
He was trying to slow his breaths. Even in the dark she could see that his cheeks were flushed from crying.
"Say it," she continued, shaking him a little.
He rubbed his lips together in hesitation.
Gentler she eased away from him and softened her eyes, "Say it. You need to hear yourself say it."
She could hear his breath quiver.
"I will get through—through this."
She stepped closer, her doe eyes filled with care, "Go into the bedroom. I'll get you some water."
Even though she turned her back away from him, Pandora could hear his footsteps. She reached for a glass and quickly filled it up.
Her eyes briefly danced around the room before she looked to the bed. He was already curled up on his side. He was staring out of the large windows. Tears were still streaming down his face.
When she came into his view his green eyes lowered to the ground.
"Water," she whispered.
"I'm not thirsty."
"Please, just have a little."
With a groan he reached for the glass. He took a few sips before placing it on the nightstand and returning his gaze to the windows.
Pandora dropped her eyes. She wondered if this was the way he reacted when Wisty and the male Tribute from District 4 had died. Wisty. Her eyes closed. She hadn't thought of the little girl from District 4 in a while. Guilt rose inside her as the memory of Petro snapping Wisty's neck surfaced.
By the time she crawled into the bed, Finnick had calmed down. He kept his back to her.
Outside fireworks were being set off. Celebratory ones.
Pandora stared at the ceiling, her head ached.
"Don't leave me," He suddenly whispered.
Slowly she moved her hand to his side, "I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere."
Though he didn't respond she knew he heard and understood.
"Panem has another Victor," the words sounded haunted.
She pursed her lips and winced. Another Victor, just another Tribute to add to the Capitol's collection.
"What District?"
He wrestled with the sheet for a moment, "1."
An hour past, or maybe it was mere minutes. Pandora was so wrapped up in her thoughts and nightmares that she could barely keep track.
"Pandora?" Her name sounded familiar on his tongue.
She remained quiet for a heartbeat.
"Pandora?"
Her eyes stayed on the ceiling, "What?"
"Are you okay?"
Inhibited pain and grief read all over her face, "I'm never okay. Not anymore."
"I mean now—you were sweating when I walked in, you looked scared."
"I was just worried about you," she quickly lied.
"I'm sorry."
"No, don't be ridiculous. I—that's what we do. We're here for each other. I need you as much as you need me."
His warm hand slid to her arm. He kept it there for a while before letting it drop back to the sheets.
A few minutes later she heard him murmur in his sleep. He repeated names she didn't know, yelping from time to time. Finnick had nightmares of his own.
Her fingers clawed the sheets, pulling them to her chin. She couldn't sleep, afraid that her mind would visit that strangely mirrored room with a giant tank.
Instantly the recollection of Adric unconsciously floating inside the cylinder made her shiver.
Everything else made sense, everything except that single image. She bit her lips and nervously thrashed around, but it was no use. Whatever sense was there to be made she couldn't see it.
Deep down she felt an unexpected need, a need to tell Adric of this horrifying nightmare.
Finnick awoke and left before the sun rose. Pandora heard him but pretended to be asleep. Once the front door shut her hands gripped the sheets, her body lurched forward.
Cold water splashed Pandora in the face. She couldn't worry about her life and her dreams. She had appointments to make.
She pulled on a pair of grey slacks on, along with a black sweater and some soft leather boots. Her reflection scowled at her as she tied her hair into a high ponytail.
The sun was well into the morning sky by the time she nodded to the eccentric concierge and pushed through the glass doors.
As usual the car was waiting for her.
"Was that Finnick Odair I saw earlier?" her driver, Demetri, asked as soon as she shut the door.
"What?"
"I thought I saw someone come out of the building that looked like him."
Her brow furrowed. How long had her driver been sitting out here?
"No—you must be mistaken."
"Right…my mistake."
The engine started. He gave her a doubtful look before pressing the accelerator. A look she pretended not to see.
When the familiar steel building came into view she straightened her back, preparing for the inevitable chores that loomed inside.
Caradoc was waiting for her in the lobby.
"Happy Hunger Games," he calmly greeted, smiling happily as he motioned her towards the elevators.
"Did you see the finale? It was a quite a show, not as good as yours though."
"Oh yea?" She vacantly responded, staring at the flashing numbers above.
"It looked like one of the District 4 pair was going to win, then District 1's male came swooping forward. Got them with a javelin. It was an excellent show."
Pandora's mind went back to the night before. Finnick's crying, his shouting, his pain. She caught her shaking breath, balling her hands into fists.
"I'm sure," she whispered.
"Pandora you look tired."
"I am tired."
"How many times have I told you to get rest?" Caradoc narrowed his eyes as the elevator doors opened and a swarm of stylists descended on them.
Her jaw clenched in agitation as hands covered her, pulled on her and guided her.
Caradoc placed her in a deep purple gown, encrusted with diamonds and emeralds. The chiffon fell in long waves to the floor. It was the latest design in his collection and in honor of that an advertisement was being constructed.
She posed and moved mindlessly. Vaguely listening to the director's orders from time to time. Tomorrow one of the images would be plastered to some anonymous building.
It wasn't long before she was back in her street clothes and heading to the car.
"That was fast," Demetri noted as she crawled into the leather seats.
"Thankfully, yes."
A low chuckle sounded from the front of the car, "Well, Miss Sullivan, I guess that's our cue."
With a jolt the car started out.
She angrily leaned into the seats.
"Demetri, Mironov is the other way."
"We're not going to Dr. Mironov's office, Miss."
"What?"
"The President has asked for your company. The doctor had to cancel."
Pandora froze. Her eyes widened in dismay. Of all the days in the world, Snow had to pick this one to request an audience with her. Deep seeded bitterness swept over her face and body, changing her melancholy disposition to outright infuriation.
The clock tolled three times as she leapt out of the car and up the marble steps. Out of memory she guided herself through the maze of elevators, hallways and rooms. It wasn't until she reached the private office that she stopped briefly.
"Pandora! You're early."
Her eyes turned to the blond haired woman with golden tattoos, today she was wearing an orange dress.
"Yea, well, is he in?"
"You can't just walk inside."
Pandora angrily stared at her, "Are you going to stop me?"
The woman turned to the man behind the desk, visibly shying away.
"Yea, right, that's what I thought."
Pandora didn't slow down as the doors automatically opened. There were no traces of fear or anxiety on her face, just a slight disdain.
Her eyes meandered over the crimson wallpaper and black floors. The sickly sweet smell of Snow reached her nose before she arrived the main office.
He was talking to a military official, a highly decorated military official.
"You wanted to see me," she callously interrupted, glancing between Snow and the anonymous Officer. Something was strangely familiar about the man, something in his bone structure—his high cheekbones.
"Pandora, I didn't know you were here. Why don't you just wait outside?"
"No."
The military official narrowed his eyes indignantly. He glared at her so hatefully.
Suddenly a laugh escaped Snow. He continued to giggle, "Well, alright. Trajan, we can continue with our discussion some other time."
Trajan…why did that name sound so familiar? Pandora tried to search her thoughts.
"Of course, sir," he bowed his head as he took Snow's hand and shook it, "It would be an honor."
"Good. Pandora—come forward."
He snapped the order so quickly she wanted to stay in place, but slowly she took her steps.
"This is General Trajan Antonius Pedersen."
Instantly something caught in her throat. Her eyes changed from cold to shocked.
"I believe you know his son, Officer Adric Pedersen."
She stared up at the middle age General as he passed. Her stomach suddenly felt like it was in knots.
"Yes," her eyes dropped, "I know Adric."
Instead of saying hello the man glared at her for a moment. Adric had his father's high cheekbones but on Trajan they looked frightening. His eyes were dully grey and his hair was white. She wondered if it was once brilliantly blond, like Adric's.
"It's impolite to interrupt conversations," his voice was domineering.
She was trying to remind herself to stay strong, to seem apathetic, but it was hard.
"Yes," her eyes shifted to Snow, "I suppose it is."
He judgingly eyed her from top to bottom, "Hmm," he murmured.
It wasn't until she heard the door shut that she realized she hadn't been breathing. Her lungs ached as fresh air was sucked in.
"Nice fellow, and a wonderful military leader," Snow chimed in.
Suddenly her purpose came back to her. She staggered towards his desk, drunk off of exhaustion and shock.
"I'm sure you'll see more of him."
Her lips parted, it sounded like a threat.
"What did you want?"
"Let's not get ahead of ourselves. Sit."
She grimaced before grabbing one of the chairs and settling down.
"So?"
"Not now," Snow replied, "I'm waiting for someone else."
This struck a chord with Pandora, "Who?"
The phone on his desk suddenly rang. A smile formed on his lips as he held up a finger and answered.
"Yes?...Good…Yes, show him in."
His snake eyes darted to her as the doors down the corridor opened. She wanted to look back but couldn't find the courage.
"That will be the who, right now."
Steady footsteps were approaching. Familiar and rhythmic. She raised her fingers to the side of her face as the figure moved closer.
"Pandora?"
Her mouth gaped open. Her eyes looked up in surprise.
"Finnick?"
President Snow remained silent, as if he were taking in their mutual astonishment. After a whisper of time he opened his desk and pulled several files out.
"What is this?!" Pandora exclaimed.
Snow licked his finger before leafing through the pages of the file. The gesture made Pandora feel queasy. His swollen lips seemed to twitch for a moment.
"You can sit, Mr. Odair."
Finnick side glanced Pandora. His fingers nervously searched for the armrest of the chair. As he sat down he turned his face to the floor.
"You two are friends, hm?"
"Yes," Finnick's response was quick and steady.
"I can see that."
Snow's eyes were still on the file, but as he spoke he slowly placed a few of the photographs on the table. Some were from District 4, Pandora already knew about those, but then there were others. Pictures of them from the Sculpture Gardens, from the photo shoots they had done together, from side streets and roads.
She could feel her breathing become shallower. She wanted to look at Finnick but couldn't bring herself to.
"Why are you showing us theses? To intimidate us?" her words were hostile.
Finnick peered to her in shock.
Snow only smiled, "I called you both in here today to discuss a deal."
"A deal implies something on both ends," Pandora countered.
"Yes, yes it does."
Silence fell. She couldn't help wondering what the next thing to slip from Snow's forked tongue would be. Truths laced with lies, that was all they ever were.
"I'm not the only one aware of your friendship, obviously you know about the Capitol Press. They've taken to putting you in their tabloids every chance they get."
Finnick leaned back timidly. Realization was hitting him faster than Pandora. She just glared.
"I think it's rather refreshing, no? To see two Victors so close, so bonded. I hear there are rumors going around the Capitol. Rumors of you two being together—"
"They're only rumors," Pandora growled.
"Yes, well. That's what we need to discuss. I would like you to verify the rumors."
"What?" She parted her lips.
Finnick dropped his eyes.
"It doesn't have to verbally, in fact, I would prefer that you would do more subtly, that way it's more realistic. But of course it doesn't matter how, I just want it done."
"Why would you want us to pretend that we are a couple?"
"The Capitol needs a bright light on their horizon. It's perfect."
Finnick's green eyes squinted, "You just got another Victor last night."
"So?"
Finnick tilted his head away, placing his hand on the side of his head.
That's when Pandora cut back in, "You said this was mutual. If we do this then what do we get?"
"The offer is not for a we, it's for only one of you," Snow's eyes moved to Finnick, "For you, Mr. Odair."
In confusion Pandora twitched her eyes to Finnick.
"What do you mean me?"
"Why is the offer only for Finnick?" She hesitated, hating what she was about to say, "What about me?"
The President cupped his hands on his desk, "When you hear the offer you might just agree to the deal, Pandora."
"Oh yea?"
"Yes."
Snow looked back to Finnick.
"If you do this, if both of you pretend, you will no longer have to do the other job I had assigned you."
Finnick's eyes lit up to this offer. He straightened his back and lowered his hand.
"Other job?" Pandora abruptly asked.
"Would you like to tell her, Mr. Odair?"
She could see Finnick shift away. He was trying to look as far away from her as possible. Suddenly he was shamefully blushing.
"I didn't think so. Well I guess that's my job then—Mr. Odair was sleeping with several women of the Capitol. He was in high demand. Very high demand. As you can see he performs the role of a playboy rather well. Don't you, Mr. Odair?"
Pandora's eyes widened. She felt like she was going to throw up. Strange emotions started surfacing. She tried not to look at Finnick but her gaze slowly landed on him.
"Now, as long as you both pretend, Mr. Odair will not need to concern himself with this other job."
Her eyes anxiously moved to the windows. Of course, she thought. Appointments. That's what Finnick had called them. Whenever he needed to go he would say he had one. Never in Pandora's wildest imaginations did she think that this is what those appointments entailed.
A single instinct took hold of her. The instinct of protectiveness.
"I'll do it," she suddenly said, standing to her feet, "We'll do it."
"Pandora—" Finnick jumped to his feet as well, he gave her a worried look before leaning in and whispering, "You don't need to do this."
Her eyes lingered on his. Her face hardened. How could she not do this for Finnick? President Snow had been traded him around like a prostitute. Who knows how long this was going on? If all she had to do to save Finnick was to feign a romantic relationship with him, then she'd do it.
"Finnick, I said yes."
Snow shifted his eyes between them, "Wonderful. Of course, Mr. Odair this does mean you can't go back to District 4 as much as you used to."
Finnick was still staring at Pandora. He wanted her to reject the offer, but deep down he felt some relief. His fingers nervously combed through his auburn hair.
"Alright—" he agreed, "Alright, we'll do it."
The dim office light reflected in President Snow's eyes. He was sickeningly pleased.
Pandora felt raw and frightened. Her reflex was to hold Finnick's hand, to show him that she was there for him, but she couldn't bring herself to, not in front of Snow. Her deep brown eyes turned to the windows. Cold heat rose in her heart.
For the first time since her arrival into the Capitol, President Snow was making his move for more control over her life. This was only the first move in a whole scheme of strategies and manipulations. Her lips trembled slightly, she felt helpless.
There's nothing worse, Pandora quickly thought, than seeing your life fall apart before your eyes and being powerless to stop it.
When her eyes twitched back to Snow's face, she tilted her head up and stared down at him. He smiled coldly, calculatingly. She replied with an arched eyebrow. Someday, whether soon or years from now, Pandora promised herself she would see this man drained of life, see him hung like the animal he was.