Scattered Argonauts

The first thing Katniss noticed about the new, divided test chamber was a speaker set into the glass wall, well above their reaches.

"Hey, Peeta," she said, "Can you hear me?"

"Yes!" His voice came through a little scratchy, but quite clear. "I missed you."

She smiled. "I missed y—"

"All conversation between co-op partners will be strictly limited to matters concerning the test."

Peeta made a dismissive gesture with his free hand.

The Gamemaker went on, "That command is not merely to assure quality testing protocols are upheld. It is to remind you that I will portion out food, water, and rest. There will be no more gifts from outside the arena. You can blow kisses, wink, swoon at each other all you like. It won't make an atom of difference."

Katniss, as they started the test (a puzzle of velocity and aerial faith plates, and a few devilishly placed emancipation grills), thought, 'She's lying. If the Gamemaker didn't want Peeta and I to appeal to the audience, why put us together at all? She's being cruel, playing with us like a cat with its prey, and I'm certain she's doing it for the audience.' She beckoned to Peeta, and he followed.

- The Evasive Subject -

The business of following Finnick and Annie was growing trickier. Even with the careful use of portals, Wiress only narrowly avoided being squashed by grinding pistons or caught by too-alert turrets. The light was growing redder, too, even as the testing arenas Finnick and Annie took became cleaner and brighter.

It didn't help that the tests were getting harder and harder. But it did mean that Wiress had more time to move in the spaces between walls, until –

"Great job, Finnick!"

No. They couldn't have solved the test so quickly.

Wiress looked. Finnick and the Annie-core were heading towards the exit. Oh, no. She couldn't lose sight of them – would she give herself away?

All she had to do was yell – but she had hidden for too long, was too comfortable in the shadows –

The door closed behind Finnick.

Wiress had a second to think, 'Well, at least I'll get to see what happens to a test chamber when the tributes leave.'

And she did.

First the walls peeled themselves away from the frame of the testing chamber, leaving Wiress exposed amid the red-lit scaffolding. Then the floor shifted and rolled like the oily grey river that sluggishly wound through District Three. Then it lifted away entirely, panels lifting and vanishing away, seamlessly, to show a gaping chasm below.

The panel beneath Wiress shifted. It bucked and threw her forward.

She fell and clung to another panel, which was lifting away and tilting up, so that her one-handed hold weakened by the second. There was only one fixed point in the entire once-a-chamber now – the door by which Finnick and the Annie-core had left.

The panel that Wiress clung to was moving away from the door. Below her more panels were moving from right to left, all of them with portal-ready surfaces. And there were angles to calculate, as none of the panels were staying still, all were shifting and swiveling, all away from the door.

Something clicked in Wiress' mind. One, two, three, there were the steps. She fired the first portal onto a panel that was pointing away from the door. She let go of the panel she was holding, and fired the second panel to catch her. She flew out of the portal, across the chasm, and fired two more portals – one to catch her, one to fling her out at towards the door, she flew towards it, praying it wouldn't move –

It didn't. Miraculously, her boots found a purchase on the eight inches of space in front of the door. It opened when she arrived, and she clung to the frame, heart pounding. Behind her she heard the whirr of a camera.

Wiress blocked the door with her own body, so it was she – not the camera – that saw what was waiting for her.

"Ah," she breathed. "You did move the door."

Her brain was still calculating, and in an instant she understood – she understood the Gamemaker's intention perfectly. And she understood that, perhaps, this glimpse, this understanding, was a gift from a Gamemaker to a tribute who would have made an excellent test subject.

Ahead, there was music.

Wiress stepped through the door.

The camera saw her take seven steps, and on the eighth, two massive crushers slammed together, right in the door's path. They would have obliterated anything between them.

A cannon went off.

Finnick looked around. "Who was that?" he asked, half to himself.

"Wiress," Annie said. Finnick stared. He hadn't really been expecting an answer, especially not such a prompt one. The elevator opened up to reveal a brand-spanking new test chamber. They were off.

- You Are An Excellent Test Subject –

Chell heard the blast and counted. Five left, if her math was correct. That might be the five tributes she had never met. Certainly the alliance she had started was now cut down.

A cold, terrible part of her thought 'Five to go before She has nothing but me to occupy her.'

She almost jumped at the sight of a turret on the next landing – but she saw its beam tilted upward. It was off-kilter, talking to itself in a sad litany: "The greatest heroes of the age were chosen to ride the Argo and retrieve the Golden Fleece. But many misfortunes did they meet."

Chell exhaled and stepped closer to the little figure.

"The cunning sons of the North Wind were attacked by harpies. The handsome Hylas was pulled to the watery deeps by a lovelorn nymph. Mighty Heracles went mad with grief. But the worst was Jason, Jason the Betrayer, who found his other half in Medea, a witch wise in the ways of the Underworld. But after she gave up everything for him, he abandoned her and took a new wife. So she cursed him…"

Chell turned away. All names and nonsense.

A new puzzle rose before her – literally, rising bare patches in an empty elevator shaft, just waiting for a spray of Conversion Gel to turn them into her tickets closer to the sky. She applied her mind to it –

And it wasn't long before she was two hundred and fifty feet (approximately) closer to the surface. She grinned broadly, walking forward with confidence – until her eyelids suddenly drooped, her feet swayed, and she crumbled, unconscious, against the wall.

- In the Gamemaker's Chamber –

"Is she – what did you do to her? You didn't kill her, did you? Just – like that? How could you?" Wheatley was swaying back and forth, secured in a roll case suspended from the ceiling. The core-straitjacket gave him little shocks whenever he moved around too much. "You monster!"

"Let's avoid incendiary language," answered GLaDOS, her attention focused on all points of the facility, except, apparently, him. "And no, she isn't dead. Yet."

"Yet? Wh-what do you mean, 'yet'? What plans have you got in that brain of yours? Eh?"

When she didn't answer, Wheatley directed his attention to the Opera core. "And you! Look at you, a complete turncoat! I thought you liked Wiress, and now look at you, a right Benedict Cumberbatch! I regret the day I ever made your acq-OW!"

"Stop talking." GLaDOS said.

For a minute, silence reigned, then Wheatley said, in a low voice, "Stop talking? Sorry, but – ow – talking is all I'm really good – ow. Good for!" He valiantly ignored the electric shocks that increased in force as his volume increased. "I kept talking through centuries of being ignored at Aperture Science, I taaawwwbugger talked my way through an apocalypse, through the yikes apparent collapse of civilization, and of this rotting facility – OW—I can keep talking, then through a few MOTHEROF –" wheeze "—little shocks." He rallied, his optic trembling. "You can take my life, but you'll never take my freedom!"

He felt the beam of GLaDOS' attention focus on him. But he didn't quail. Chell wouldn't have quailed.

"For your information," said she, "Aperture Science has, in fact, taken both. Maybe it's time they were returned."

Wheatley blinked. "Uh. What?"

"Complete freedom. Freedom to be lost. Freedom to suffer. Freedom to die. Freedom…" She chortled, "to talk."

The roll cage was removed. There was a rumbling noise from the walls, as of massive tunnels rearranging themselves. Mimi began to sing, "We'll meet again, don't know where, don't know when..."

Wheatley's optic narrowed to a pinhole of sky blue in a black circle. "No," he muttered, "Nononononono, I don't want to die, ple-EEEEE" – with a last cry, he was sucked backwards into a gulping vortex of a tunnel, out of sight of the central chamber.

"This will be," the Gamemaker remarked to herself, "a nice change."

Mimi gave an artificial, but nonetheless nervous, gulp, and finished, "And I know we'll meet again, some sunny day."

- Memorial of the Fallen -

At a conclusion of Peeta and Katniss' test, the anthem of Panem played, surprising and bold in the bleak chambers. On a display screen flashed a series of faces, the first seen in days: Cashmere and then Gloss Lightsmith, Enobaria Deimos, Wiress Tendo, Querencia Lyons, and Seeder Apperlo.

The anthem played out, and the faces faded. Peeta asked, "Katniss – are you okay?"

She made a motion with her head, not even aware if it was a nod or a shake. She was too occupied with her thoughts. So many deaths in one day. The alliance had failed, but she couldn't think of the alliance, of how she had failed all of Panem, and failed as the Mockingjay –

"I didn't know her name was Querencia," she heard Peeta say. "The District Six tribute. Do you remember how she and her partner played at the painting station? They were almost like children." He walked to the glass barrier that divided them. "Katniss. Come here."

She walked towards him, and when he pressed his arms to the glass, she imitated him, half-imagining that she could feel his warmth seeping through.

"You can cry," he said. "It's okay."

She shook her head. It wasn't okay. It wasn't. Hunters didn't cry. Mockingjays didn't cry. They were careless, cruel birds that delighted in sharing terrible news.

'Some Mockingjay I am, then.'

"What happened?" he asked. "I don't know. I'm so sick of guessing and wondering. Talk to me, Katniss, my dear, my fire. Talk to me."

Katniss pressed her forehead against the window, just to be closer to him and to the love in his voice, the love that humbled her because she didn't deserve this, why did he have to talk like this?

She could stop him talking to her like she was a saint, like she was his bride, if she started talking and told him the truth. And he deserved to know.

"I was with Seeder," she said. "Today, I was with Seeder. I tried… I tried to make a bigger alliance but it didn't work. I wasn't strong enough to keep it together. But Seeder and I stayed together, and we met Cashmere and Gloss. Seeder killed them – I finished them off – and then –"

"They killed Seeder?"

Katniss shook her head. "They wounded her. And I couldn't save her. I had to … she would have only suffered. I…"

"You did what I did last year," Peeta said softly. "To Dalena Cloet, from District Eight."

"You remembered her name?" Katniss looked up, meeting Peeta's eyes.

"Of course. I made a point to look it up. I couldn't let her keep suffering. And you couldn't let Seeder suffer, Katniss. That means you're human. It means that you're strong enough to love."

Where did he even come up with these ideas? Katniss could only nod. She couldn't meet his eyes anymore.

"When you win, you'll be strong enough to be the Victor for all twelve Districts—"

"No," she said sharply. "Not without you, Peeta. I'm not going to win without you."

He just smiled, and she thought again, in a blazing light, of the world outside of the arena. Trust Peeta to have found a way to bring unity out of the Quell. That was why he had to get out, he had to live. If the alliance had failed, Peeta wouldn't. Let the gentle one, the one who saw artists and hope where Panem saw broken Victors, escape the arena and paint all of Panem with his vision. Let him show the Capitol what true strength looked like.

"You will, Katniss, you and the b—"

"I love you," she said, looking straight at him. "And you're going to go home, to District Twelve. I swear it."

He looked surprised, but smiled in spite of himself. His smile almost seemed to make him glow from the inside. "I love you, Katniss, and I know it's no good arguing with you. Let's keep testing."

He kissed the fingers of his right hand and pressed them to the glass. Katniss did the same, and the Gamemaker said, "Resume testing immediately."

- The Companion -

Test Subject Fourteen was fine.

No, really, fine.

She was testing, and she was fine. She had been given a roll of bread three – or was it five? – chambers ago, and she was doing just dandy on her own.

It wasn't like anyone was going to save her. She'd always thought District Thirteen wouldn't save her; she was too much out for herself. When she could put aside herself, she still put District Seven far above the rest of the country. And from what she'd heard of President Coin, the lady didn't like that kind of attitude.

So Test Subject Fourteen was going to die, but she was fine with it. It wasn't like her one comforting thought, leading up to her second Reaping, was that she would get to die under an open sky, maybe smelling pine needles, like she should have died in that godrotting, long-ago Arena.

It certainly wasn't as though every open door looked like Enobaria's mouth, covered in blood and filled with tiny holes where her teeth had once been.

Johanna Mason was fine.

And she would bite off and cannibalize her own hands before she ever, ever gave Snow reason to think otherwise.

At least the dancing was over. But she was so goddamn tired.

"Katniss and Peeta, Star-crossed lovers ablaze with passion…" the Gamemaker said.

Johanna rolled her eyes. "Oh, please."

"Finnick and Annie, weathering all transformations for their love…"

Johanna stopped in her tracks. "What."

"And look at you. Poor Johanna. All alone."

"What did you say about Annie Cresta?"

"I said, 'Finnick and Annie, weathering all transformations for…'"

"You brought Annie Cresta into this arena?" Johanna demanded. "You brought in another Victor – just to play up a hackneyed romance plot? You –" and Johanna used a curse that only District Seven natives could understand. "—you're worse than Snow, that's breaking the rules!"

"Temper, temper," the Gamemaker said, reprovingly. "And here I went through all this trouble to make you a friend, too. So poor Johanna Mason wouldn't be so lonely."

"I'm not lonely," she spat.

"Well, I made you a friend anyway. A companion, if you will. To enhance your testing experience."

"As long as it isn't Rick," the test subject said under her breath.

"Your new friend is waiting at the end of this hallway."

Johanna started walking. "The Devil's going to get you," she said clearly. The silence seemed to have a questioning air to it, so she went on, "Back home the Devil walks between the pine trees, snatching up neglectful mothers and men who beat their wives. He has a big bag, knitted out of thorns, that's specially for people like you – who hurt simple girls like Annie – and the Devil always catches up with you, sooner or later."

"How quaint." Was the Gamemaker's answer.

"Always," was Johanna's answer. "Sooner or later. Sure as the turnin' of the earth."

When she walked into the room, she was prepared for a massive wall of turrets, uttering chirps of death and pointing in her direction. But instead there was a cube. A normal weighted storage cube.

Johanna stepped closer. It was larger than a normal cube. Its sides were covered in pink piping, and each face bore a little pink heart inside of a circle.

She stood several paces removed from it. "This is it? This is my buddy?"

'Typical. Haymitch's kids get their star-crossed romance, somehow Finnick gets Annie, and I get a box. With hearts on it. Why am I even surprised?'

Then the box shuddered. Panels shifted out of its side. From its lower edges, a pair of ergonomic, robotic legs emerged. From its sides came two massive arms, with fist-like spheres (also decorated with hearts) at their ends. A small dome, with a blinking pink light, like a turret's eye, emerged from the top.

And Johanna admitted herself surprised.

The pink tracking light focused on her. "Friend located," it said, in a flat, completely androgynous voice.

"Oh boy," Johanna started to step back and look around for portal surfaces.

"Instigating friendship." The companion android stepped towards her, swinging its massive, club-like arms.

Johanna started to do battle. But she realized at once that it was a rigged game. For one thing, search as she might, there were no weapons she could use against the robot – no discouragement beams or frowny-face pellets or whatever the hell those things were called. The floor had no portal surfaces. All she could do, really, was run.

And then the floor started to fall away.

It fell away in bits and chunks, from the edges in. Even as she ran for her life, away from a surprisingly fast-moving cube robot, she was timing the battle, thinking 'She's not going to let this last too long – she wants to end it. And that means ending me. But if I just fall down there –' she paused and looked into the blackness below – 'My boots will protect me, won't they? So – I could just jump –'

"Hello, friend."

Johanna jumped to the side, darting out of range of the thing's fists.

"I just want to comfort you."

She considered yelling at the thing, but that would be like yelling at a child. And that would be playing Snow's game.

So she evaded, she darted, she leapt, and she escaped, until too much of the floor fell away. She tottered over the black pit below – and thought she could hear something at the bottom. But before she could focus, the cube robot swung an arm at her, striking her square in the torso. She yelped in pain, feeling her ribs crack, and fell, and fell, and fell.

The cannon sounded. The robot that had once been a Companion Cube leaned over the edge, to see where she had fallen, and said, "Friend lost. Where is friend?"