Hey, guys! Sorry I've fallen off the face of the earth and haven't had the chance to add any oneshots... school is killing me right now. But as promised, here is the playlist that I listened to/made while writing this story. The "soundtrack" will be up soon (I hope). Anyway, hope you guys like it. It's on spotify: thisisnotahorcrux.
Chapter 26: A Brand New Game
I always thought it was a cliché, the thing people said about death and the feeling of floating. But I don't think so anymore, because it's true, I do feel like I'm floating. My limbs are so light, it's like they're not even there. Maybe that's why I'm not scared—because nothing hurts. It's the least death can do, all things considered.
So why do I still feel like something is pushing me down? The pressure is cool on my skin. But that can't be right. I'm dead. I don't have skin.
I ignore it. I ignore anything that tries to pull me from this.
That only works for so long though. Some weird static noise fills the air. What the hell? I thought death was supposed to be peaceful. Apparently I was wrong.
I feel like I'm being prodded. What's happening?
"She's waking up. Give her 10 milliliters."
What? Who's waking up?
There's an explosion of pain through my body, and I realize it's me they're talking about. I cry out when something stabs into my side, and I try to move away but I can't.
"On second thought, give her 15. And hold her still."
There's a shot of pain, and then everything feels light again. The only thing I think before I slip under is that I'm not dead.
And that means I've won the Hunger Games.
There's nothing but a steady beeping. It grates on my ears.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
It needs to stop, because it's way too loud.
I release a groan and open my eyes, but they snap closed immediately when bright lights flood in.
Is it always this bright when you die?
But then I remember that I'm not dead. At least, I don't think I am.
Something twists in my stomach. Anxiety, disbelief, guilt, fear—they're all there. My eyes fly open and I try to sit up, but something stops any movement I try to make.
It's a belt, and this all feels too familiar.
The room looks exactly the same as the one from last time, too bright and too clean. I don't need anyone to tell me that I'm back in the Capitol.
"Good evening, tribute Kinross. Or should I say, Victor Kinross," someone says.
I crane my neck up to get a better look, and I immediately recognize the man from the last time I was in the hospital. He moves next to my bed, staring at the monitors beside me.
"How are you feeling?" he asks.
I squint up at him because I can't do anything else. It's too bright, and it's making my head throb.
"Okay," I say, but it sounds like a croak. My throat is dry from disuse, and suddenly the only thing I want to do is drink something. He doesn't offer me anything to drink though, and I don't ask because it hurts too much.
"Your vitals look good. Ah, but it seems there's still some bruising on your brain. See this red bit here?" he says, pointing at a picture with a sigh. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to put you back to sleep."
The beeping in the room speeds up, matching the pace of my heart.
"What?" I croak, but he ignores me.
He presses a button on a machine next to me, and everything is blurry in an instant. I can feel myself slipping under once again, but this time, I don't try to fight it.
It happens similarly the next time I wake up. There's bright, white lights and the same sterile smell, except now there's no incessant beeping. But I don't sit still this time. I start panicking because I'm afraid they're going to knock me out again. But then I realize that there's no strap on my waist and there aren't any wires sticking out of my arm.
"Hey, relax, kid. Relax."
My head whips to the side, and my eyes land on my mentor.
I try to say his name, but I just end up coughing. Suddenly there's a cup pressed up against my lips, and I accept the liquid easily. I gulp it down so quickly that I end up coughing again.
"You good?" Haymitch asks when my coughing finally subsides.
"I… I won?" is what I find myself saying in response.
He nods. "Yeah, you did."
I don't know how this happened. I don't understand any of it. My eyes widen and I can feel my heart rate beginning to speed up.
"Cato. What happened—"
"He's fine. Been fully healed up for about a week and a half."
Cato is okay, and I'm alive.
"We won," I say this time. It's impossible to keep the disbelief out of my voice. And it's impossible to feel happy about it.
It hits me suddenly that I've won the Hunger Games. That out of forty-eight children, I'm one of two who has survived.
"I thought I was dead."
He sighs. "For a second there, so did I."
I feel like crying all of the sudden, but I don't really understand why. "I don't get it. How did this happen?"
"Cato killed One, you killed Four."
I knew that, I guess. But it doesn't change the way I feel. I want to ask him again about what happened, but I know that I'll find out eventually. There's no way I can escape the truth. And even though it feels wrong, I hold off on finding out for just a bit longer because I'm too afraid to hear the truth.
"How long has it been since the Games?"
"A little more than two weeks," he tells me.
I don't have anything to say in response to that. Two weeks is a long time. Usually there's only a couple days between the end of the Games and the recap—a week at most. I look down at my body, or at least the parts that are exposed. The skin is smooth and clear of any scarring. For the first time, I realize that my head doesn't hurt either.
"Why did it take so long?"
"Seven did a number on your head. They were concerned about remaining damage," says Haymitch.
I frown. Cato's been fine for a week and half, and I'm still here. Well, I guess that I probably won't be for too much longer. That's why I'm not strapped down anymore.
"Get dressed," Haymitch says, nodding his head towards a set of clothes laid out for me. I didn't even realize they were there. "Come down the hall when you're done."
He leaves the room and I really have no choice but to do what he says. I swing my legs over the side of the bed and stand still for a moment. When I'm sure they're not going to collapse beneath me, I make my way over to the clothes. It's the outfit that I wore in the arena, or at least a new, clean version of it. I'm tempted to rip it to shreds. I could use the blanket for clothes. But in the end, I put it on, ignoring how it makes my skin burn.
The hallway is cold and empty, but I can see a door at the end. I assume it's what Haymitch meant. Despite the eagerness I feel to see my team—to see a piece of home—I find myself slowing down. Down here, I'm nothing. But the moment I walk through that opening, I'm back to being a tribute—no, a Victor of the Hunger Games. I'm back to being property of the Capitol. But it's ridiculous of me to think that there's any real difference between here and there, so only moments later, I find myself pulling the door open.
The first thing I see is a flash of yellow hair, and then I'm being enveloped in a hug. "There you are," Effie says, squeezing me tightly. "Oh, I'm so happy to see you."
"I'm happy to see you too," I say, because I am. Because that means I'm not dead.
I pull back from her, and then for the next ten minutes, it feels like the only thing I'm doing is hugging people. Nobody says congratulations to me. But I find that I like it that way. The things I did to get back here don't deserve any congratulations.
"I'm glad you're back, Briar," Peeta says as he pulls back. "I knew you could do it."
I smile weakly. "Thanks."
The last person I hug is Haymitch, who then tells me that we need to head upstairs to get ready for tonight. Even after the Games are over, it doesn't end. I'll still be here a couple of days for the recap and the interview. But then I can go home. I smile to myself before a feeling of apprehension settles low in my stomach. I get to go home. I can see Mr. Fairbain and Mabel again. I'll be able to the see the trees and breathe the air of district Twelve instead of all the artificial lights and air of the city.
But it won't be the same, no matter how much I wish it would be. I'm not the same. There's a prickling at the back of my neck and the urge to check over my shoulder every few seconds. Who knows what they'll think of me now. The thought makes my head ache so I try to forget about it.
The hospital is located beneath the training center, so it's a only a short ride up to the lobby. The door slides open, and a wave of nerves hits me. Images of arriving in the Capitol for the first time fill my head, carrying the same heavy weight with it. I tell myself that I'm being ridiculous, because the arena is over.
The sound of someone calling Haymitch's name draws me out of my thoughts. My eyes land on Plutarch Heavensbee, who happens to be walking towards us.
"Good afternoon," he says with a smile.
I try to smile in return but it doesn't work. This is the man responsible for the hell I just went through. It's all I can do not to punch him in the face.
"Congratulations, Ms. Kinross. It was a well fought battle," he says. "If you'll all excuse us, I'd like a quick word with Mr. Abernathy."
No one protests, though there are some looks of concern and confusion overcoming the group. I hear Katniss whisper to Peeta, asking him what it could be about, but he shrugs and says, "I don't know." I don't care. I just want to be out of his presence.
I watch the two men walk away, and something on the far side of the room catches my eye. I feel something like relief settle in me.
Cato stands off to the side, watching the two men as well. I'm making my way over to him before I even know what I'm doing. I don't think my brain is working right now, which is probably a good thing. If it isn't, then I can't think about the arena.
"Where are you going?" Effie calls from behind me.
I look at her over my shoulder and say, "I'll be right back."
They must have some idea of what I'm doing because no one tries to stop me or asks anything further. When I turn back around, Cato is looking in our direction, and I pick up my pace. But I slow down when I'm about fifteen feet away because I have no idea what to say. Of course, I run out of room pretty quickly, and then I'm left standing awkwardly in front of him.
"Hey," I say, because it's the only thing I can think of. He isn't wearing the outfit from the arena, and it makes me jealous of him.
"Finally awake, huh?" he says by way of greeting.
His eyes scan over me for a second, narrowing at my clothes, but he doesn't say anything about them. I try not to wince when I remember that he's been ready to go home for a while, and I've prevented him.
"Yeah, sorry about that."
He ignores my apology and continues on. "How's the head? I'm assuming that's what took so long."
"It's good," I say, feeling some of the tension ease. "They fixed it up, I guess. I wasn't really awake for any of it though, so…"
We lapse into silence for a second, and I let myself look at him. I don't really know what I'm searching for, but I can't stop. He looks tired. And there's this sort of look in his eye that seems frustrated or angry. But I don't hear any of that in his voice, so I think I must be imagining it. I also note that his skin looks as clean as mine, so that's the next thing that comes out of my mouth.
"You look better," I say and then immediately wince. "I mean, you look healed and everything. They got rid of all your cuts too."
He raises an eyebrow, a hint of a smirk pulling at his lips. "Yeah, they did. Most of them at least."
I want to ask him what that means, but the way he says it makes it seem like it's not open to conversation.
"How… how are you?" I ask, because I'm genuinely curious.
He's been awake for a week and a half. He's had plenty of time to think about the Games.
He's quiet for a second that stretches on just a bit too long. That same weird look fills his eyes, but then it's gone and he's shrugging. "I'm fine," he says.
Fine, but not good. I don't know why I think that means anything, but I do. Maybe I do have lasting brain damage.
"You?"
I shrug. "Don't know, " I say honestly. I stopped lying to Cato in the arena, and I see no reason to pick it back up now. "I only woke up a half hour ago. I haven't had too much time to think about anything."
He nods his head and we fall back into silence. I consider saying goodbye and heading back to my team, but I know that there was a reason I came over here. But I don't have time to figure it out because Cato begins speaking again.
"You were careless," he says, and I don't think I'm imagining the small frown on his face.
I cross my arms over my chest. "What you do mean?"
"When you were alone in the arena. Sleeping out in the open, defenseless. Wandering around at night, lighting fires," he lists off. "You could have gotten yourself killed."
Despite my defensiveness, I can't help but frown at his tone. He's not yelling, or mad, or mocking. He sounds more confused than anything.
"There were a million different things in that arena that could have killed me, Cato, but I survived."
How that happened, I still don't understand.
"I know," he says, just as seriously.
"How do you know about what I was doing when I was alone, anyway?"
"I wasn't unconscious when we got out of the arena," he says with raised eyebrows. "You've been out for a couple of days, and clips from the Games were the only thing on TV."
"You've seen the whole recap?" I feel nauseous as soon as the words leave my mouth. I don't want to see any of it.
"No," he answers. "Neither of us will until tonight, and even then, it's only the highlights."
I don't know what else to say, and thankfully I don't have to think of anything because Zella comes bounding down the hallway and into the lobby.
"There you are, Cato. I've been looking for you everywhere." She turns to me, apparently just realizing my presence. "Oh, I didn't see you there, darling. How are you?"
I barely mumble out a "fine," before she's turning towards Cato again.
"Come, come. We can't keep everyone waiting," she says, directing him back towards the elevator.
"See you around, Briar," he says, before he lets her lead him away.
I stand there staring until the doors close and they're completely out of sight. My stomach begins to churn when I think of what will happen in a few hours. I force myself to calm down because it's not like any of it can be avoided. Then I make my way back to my team.
"You alright?" Katniss asks when I reach them. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
"Oh, um, yeah. I'm just nervous about tonight," I say when I notice her glaring at the spot Cato had occupied a few seconds ago. Her face softens when I finish speaking. She gets what I'm worried about. I'm sure they all do.
Haymitch returns to us a few minutes later, scowling, and my stomach drops. What could Heavensbee have needed to talk to him about? He brushes Peeta off when he asks what's the matter, saying that it's nothing, and I get the distinct feeling that it's the exact opposite. But before I can comment, we're being rushed into the elevator, and I have a whole new set of worries because my prep team swarms me the second the doors open.
"You were wonderful!—We're so glad you won!—Our Victor!" they all gush, and I can't breathe.
I also can't decide if I'm happy to see them or not. They're completely harmless, sure, but with the way they always prattle on about unimportant things, I can't help but hate them just a little bit.
I'm whisked off to my old room and stripped down, ready to be dressed up for tonight.
"Oh, just look at how skinny she's become," I hear Garrick whisper to Cleo, and I can't help but look towards the mirror.
He's right, of course. I can't deny that when I see my reflection. Despite being in that hospital for weeks, I'm still thinner than normal, every part of me shrunken to less than it was before. A pathetic excuse for a person. I scan over my limbs. The cuts and broken bones are repaired, the dark bruises faded. It's proof that I'm healing, that at least my outside is mended. It does nothing for the pieces on the inside. Those bruises haven't begun to fade. I don't even know how deep they run. I don't know if they'll ever heal. I've survived the Hunger Games, but the longer I'm awake, the more I begin to wonder if that's true.
Except I don't have time to think like that. Do I? The Games are over, so do I still have to pretend like everything's okay? Not all Victors look that way. Most just stand there, speaking in short sentences. Some look ready to flee while others look ready to break down. Then there are the ones who scream in excitement, reveling in their win. They're usually Careers. Will Cato be like that? I hope not, because then I'll definitely have to pretend like I'm okay, since we're teammates and all. But he doesn't look very happy. Maybe I should ask Haymitch.
I'm so lost in my own thoughts, that I barely realize what's going on around me. That's probably a good thing though, because then I don't have to listen to my prep team.
Soon enough, my team is done, and Cinna's walking into the room, carrying a black bag.
I can't see the dress clearly when he pulls it from the bag and over my head. But when I turn to see myself in the mirror, I can't stop staring. I barely recognize myself. The dress is made from a sheer, light looking fabric, but black and blue lines run from top to bottom. They look like veins and vines and branches wrapping around my body, and when I look close enough, I can see small silver birds resting on the vine-like pieces. It goes all the way down to the floor with a skirt that puffs out somewhat. And I'm in heels. Again. I'm glad for it though because that means I get to focus on not tripping instead of everything else that's happening.
My hair flows loosely around my shoulders, and my nails have been perfectly reshaped and painted in a dark blue. The only thing not that done up is my makeup. For once, I don't have sharp bird features. Instead, the look is simple in comparison. There is only a thin coat of black makeup lining my eyelids and a light color on my lips. To be honest, I have no clue what look Cinna is going for. All I know is that I like it better than all the rest. It makes me feel strong, but not like I'm pretending to be invincible. I almost laugh at myself, because that sounds ridiculous.
"It's beautiful, Cinna."
"I thought it tied in a little bit of the old and a little bit of the new," he tells me, wrapping my sister's bracelet around my wrist and securing it there. "I wanted to show everyone just how strong you are. Now let's go. We have an event to get you to."
My heart feels like it's going to beat right out my chest when we arrive backstage. It's made even worse by the fact that all of my mentors look agitated. I don't have any time to ask them what's the matter because I'm being pulled away to where I'll enter on stage.
The place smells musty, like it hasn't been used in a while. Which makes sense, since they probably only use it for the Games. There's a large metal platform in front of me, but there's nothing else to see. The place is completely empty, except for the sound of Capitol cheers filling the air. I think I'm going to be sick.
I'm not really sure how they'll announce everyone tonight. They had to change things for Katniss and Peeta last year, and obviously they'll have to change it again—seeing as Cato and I are from different districts. I wonder what would happen if I didn't step onto the platform and it rose without me.
"You ready?"
I whirl around to see Cato standing behind me, and the nausea relents a little.
"No," I say honestly. I'm too tired to convince him or myself otherwise.
His eyebrows draw together at my honesty. But then he nods like he understands. I wonder if he does.
"You?" I ask.
"I guess," he says with a shrug. "Can't be as bad the second time, right?"
He looks away, and I get the feeling that he didn't mean to say that out loud. I don't think he's right about it not being as bad, but saying that won't help anything.
"You don't look like a bird anymore," Cato says, his head tilting to the side as he inspects my outfit.
I raise my eyes back to his and shrug. "Cinna said he wanted to do something different."
I let my eyes trail over Cato's form. He looks healthy and strong. He looks like a real Victor. He doesn't seem like he lost any weight either. I must look miniscule in comparison. And I can't help but notice that his crisp blue suit and black tie goes perfectly with my dress.
"It looks like our stylists coordinated," I tell him, nodding to his outfit. "We match."
He glances between us and says, "Yeah, I guess we do. Makes sense. Since we're a team and all."
The use of the word team loosens some of the tightness in my chest. I thought that maybe Cato would be done with me after the Games ended. But he's been nothing but pleasant—well, the two times I've seen him—and that's oddly comforting. I did just spend almost three weeks in a living hell with him, I remind myself. He's the only person I've been able to trust in that time.
My eyes widen at the unconscious admission. I try to convince myself that it was a slip up, but the truth is, I trusted Cato with my life in the arena, especially in those last few days when my head was all messed up.
"You alright?"
My eyes snap to his. He's looking at me like he's concerned. Or like I might break. I remind myself that I'm supposed to look strong. This really isn't the time for any revelations.
"Yeah, I just remembered something."
"If you say so," he says, and then the countdown is beginning. I must have missed them announcing our teams.
My heart rate skyrockets, and I can't hear anything but screams. I move to plug my ears, but then Cato's standing on the platform, wordlessly holding his elbow out to me. I stare at it for a second, and then take a step up, hooking my arm around his. Then the platform rises, and I'm nearly blinded by flashing lights.
I realize we're in the center of the stage, the Capitol and their cheers completely surrounding us. I'm too overwhelmed to move, so I just stand there numbly. I think Cato is waving because the cheers pick up. He nudges my shoulder almost imperceptibly, and I snap out of my daze. He is waving, so I start doing the same. We stand there like that for a few minutes—arms linked, hands waving, and false smiles plastered on our faces. Well, I think Cato's is false. It looks too big to be real, and I've never seen him smile like that. But then again, maybe that means it's the real one.
My cheeks hurt from fake smiling after a few minutes, and I'm relieved when Caesar finally draws us to our seats. Two chairs rest side by side, which makes me a little nervous. That means I'm going to have let go of Cato's arm, and I think he's the only thing keeping the knot in my chest from expanding and breaking me apart. It's such a strange thought, but that doesn't make it any less true. How does anyone do this on their own?
There isn't a lot of talk when we take our seats. They have to get right into the recap. Wouldn't want to run over the allotted three hours. Who knows what would happen then.
Both our teams sit behind us. I'm unhappy with the arrangement. I don't know where to look now, which means that I can't really avoid the screen.
The lights in the City Circle dim, and it starts. A shiver runs down my spine before the bloodbath even begins, and I know it's going to be a long night. I wasn't ready for any of this when it came to entering the arena, and I'm not any more ready now. Especially because I have to watch every single death.
The first shot on screen is a replay of Caesar's little special on me and Cato. The story of our connection laid out once again. Then it's the pre-arena announcement of teams, each partner side by side. Then the Bloodbath starts and it's chaos. I have to look down when Ivory yanks my hood and our fight starts. It's not like I don't know how this ends. I remember how angry I felt, how I wanted her dead, and I really don't want to see the look on my face because I'm pretty sure I'll be afraid of what I see. It's obvious when the fight ends because the crowd is cheering, and I can feel Cato's eyes on the side of my head. They're gone in a second though.
I hear the familiar shout of "Move!" and my eyes move back to the screen. It's a boy from Eleven yelling to a girl from Five. Were they friends? I really hope not when I see a trident pierce her chest as he stands and watches.
Soon enough the Bloodbath ends and the story begins. It's hard to tell what they're going for at first. There's a lot of time spent on Cato and I, since we won and all. We do more talking than most of the other groups, but it's mostly arguing. Topaz and Rowan are the only pair that really gets along it seems, but then she dies in the flood that nearly killed both Cato and me.
The camera flashes from group to group, or tribute to tribute since a lot of people lost their partners, and I still can't tell where they're going with this. It flashes from silent groups and silent tributes to Cato and I arguing. From relatively peaceful to harsh words and hatred. Over and over and over. It's almost funny when I think about the love story from last year. If I were an outside spectator, I'd be shocked that we didn't kill each other based off this video.
It looks particularly bad after Cato kills Tilver. I feel a little bad about how harsh I was, because it's clear from the video that Tilver ambushed him, and he didn't look very happy about killing him. Of course, video me doesn't know that, so it's just more fighting. That is, until we're separated.
Then it focuses on Mace and Nerissa and their conversations heavily laden with undertones of superiority and hostility. Then it shifts suddenly to Zeppina and her partner, and I don't think I'm ever going to understand what they're going for here. The person who put this together will probably get fired because they haven't done a very good job of telling a story.
The audience gasps when Zeppina shoots a poisoned dart into her partner's neck, and I have to suppress my own. The act of betrayal settles heavily in my body, and I can't help but feeling glad that she didn't win. I had my suspicions, of course, but it's a lot worse seeing it. Especially since Cato's sitting right beside me and we both know how he was poisoned. I glance at him out of the corner of my eye, our fight about me not killing Zeppina playing over in my head. He's staring straight at the screen though, and I can't read a thing on his face.
Of course, they show him getting poisoned too, and then it's all Cato and me again. Me finding him, killing Ten, taking care of him. Heat rises to my cheeks when I see how frantic I look. I know that it's because I was afraid of being alone and afraid of how that made me act. But no one watching this can see in my head, so it just looks like I'm really concerned about Cato. They show that particular conversation in full—when I admit to no longer hating him—and I'm starting to get a better idea of what they're trying to show.
From then on they show a lot less of Cato and I arguing. It's still there of course because we did a lot of it in the arena, but they cut a lot of it out. As the story goes on, they cut between us and Mace and Nerissa. We're getting along more and more, while they're getting along less and less.
And then I'm being attacked by the boy from Seven. Cato looks almost crazed as him and the boy fight, and I lie weakly on the ground. I've never seen Cato look so angry. But then the boy is dead and Cato isn't angry. He looks like I did when I was taking care of him: frantic.
I can't help but stare wide-eyed at the screen, because even though I knew Cato saved me, I wasn't expecting this. The story plays on, and there's more flashing between the two final groups, and then it's the finale. The audience gasps over every little bit despite having already seen it. A cannon fires and the uncertainty of whom it's for takes up a few seconds. I see myself lying there, bleeding out, and it's like the wound is fresh. I blink several times to stop the room from spinning, but then Claudius Templesmith is announcing us as Victors. The last shot is of Cato crouching on ground beside me, staying there until the Capitol doctors draw us away into the hovercraft.
My eyes linger on the screen even as the images fade because I know exactly what kind of story they were trying to tell—did tell. Somehow, they managed tell a story of how Cato and I went from pure hatred to an actual partnership—bordering on friendship if you rely on the recap—in three hours. It's not exactly Katniss and Peeta, the girl on fire and the boy who's loved her since he was five, but it's still pretty dramatic when I consider how the recap began. I guess it's pretty good in terms of entertainment, and that makes me feel both a little better and a little bitter. I've played right into their hands, but I'm alive, so I can't complain too much. Not when forty-six other kids are dead.
I feel Cato tap my shoulder, and I stand quickly because the anthem is playing, and I can see President Snow walking towards us. Light flashes off the two crowns being carried by a little girl, and I have to fight the urge to look away. Or to run away. I don't want the crown, because nothing I've done should be treated with honor. But I can't look away. Not with Snow's eyes staring down at me. I feel uneasy, and it's like the room has dropped ten degrees.
Snow lifts the first gold grown, walking towards me with a smile stretched across his mouth. It looks feral. I smile wide in return, praying that I don't look as afraid as I really am.
"Congratulations, Ms. Kinross. You played the game well," he says, placing the crown on my head. "Many in the Capitol went out of their way to support you. I hope you'll find a way to return the favor in the future."
The smile slips from my face, and my heart thuds quickly. But I put it back when he congratulates me again, because I can see Cato staring out of the corner of my eye and that reminds me that I'm on camera. But even as I'm smiling, I can feel my insides tightening as panic begins to take over. I know without a doubt that I've just been threatened. And I have no idea why.
There's nothing but buzzing in my ears as we bow and wave and the Capitol cheers. It goes on forever, and it's getting really difficult to pretend like I'm not freaking out. Finally, Caesar says goodnight, reminding us and everyone else that he'll see us again at the interview tomorrow.
I'm practically pushed off stage, Effie saying something about a tight schedule. Cato looks at me while we all wait for the cars to bring us to Snow's mansion, and I can tell he wants to say something. He doesn't get a chance though, because the cars arrive and I'm pulled away.
It's not like I would know what to say to him anyway. Did Snow threaten him too? I contemplate telling Haymitch the whole ride over, but I never get a chance because something is always happening. And once we arrive, there's really no chance to talk. It's more smiling and pictures with overenthusiastic Capitol residents eager to meet the newest Victors. Cato and I aren't together the whole time, but when we are, I can tell that he's suspicious. We're never left alone, but even if we were, I don't know if I'd tell him.
The whole thing is a blur, because despite my fake smile, I can't focus on anything other than the pulse pounding in my ears. But it also seems to go on forever, and I think I'm going to crack until I'm finally dragged back to our floor in the Training Center. Even though I've spent most of the last two weeks sleeping, I can feel the exhaustion taking over. It doesn't creep up on me, but attacks the moment I step off the elevator, swallowing me whole. I stumble my way to my room without so much as a goodbye, and when I collapse in bed, it's with flashes of the arena and President Snow's words whispered in my ear.
I don't get much sleep. When Effie barrels into my room, telling me it's time to get ready, I move on autopilot. I really try not to let myself think too much. I need to get through this, and then I can worry about what Snow meant.
While the prep team scuttles around me, I hear their thoughts and assurances of how great the recap was, which does nothing to make me feel better. Then Cinna comes in, and I'm zipped into a blue lace dress. I don't even have time to see myself before I'm rushed to the interview.
"The interview was in the main room last year," Peeta says when we enter the elevator. "I guess they couldn't decide on a floor."
I nod along to his words, and it really only hits me now how difficult this is: having two winners. At least last year Katniss and Peeta were from the same district, but Cato and I are practically from different sides of Panem. I'm sure who's ever in charge of logistics isn't very happy right now because both of us living makes everything more difficult.
My eyes widen when it strikes me, the sickening feeling that this wasn't supposed to happen. We weren't both supposed to live. Snow's words come rushing back to me, and I get the distinct, horrifying feeling that it was supposed to be me. I was supposed to die.
I force myself to stay calm because the doors open and I can see everything set up for the interview. I can't look freaked out on national television. That won't help anything.
There's a small white couch in the center of a room and a chair across from it. People are rushing about everywhere, trying to get things in order. My eyes immediately land on Caesar, and the lights flashing on his blue suit. He's talking to Cato, who's wearing a nice black suit. He looks like he's okay at the moment, which is good, because he's much better in front of a camera than I am. And with the way my stomach keeps churning, I don't know how much help I'll be.
Someone must alert Caesar to my presence because he's suddenly waving me over.
"Congratulations," he says, hugging me tightly. "Are you ready for the interview?"
"As ready as I'll ever be," I say with a small laugh that sounds horribly fake to my own ears. I really hope no one else notices.
"Good. There's no need to be nervous," he tells me with a smile. "You're wonderful in front of the camera."
I can tell that he's trying to be reassuring, because what he said isn't really true. But I feel a little better because I know that Caesar always does his best to make the tributes look good, so hopefully I won't make a complete idiot of myself. Or worse, make Snow even angrier.
He moves away when someone asks him about lighting and then it's just me and Cato. He doesn't waste any time, turning to me and asking, "What did Snow say to you?"
His voice is hushed, like he doesn't want anyone to listen. He probably doesn't, because I'm sure he realizes that President Snow whispering things to you isn't a good sign. Still, I don't want to say anything. I haven't even decided if I'm going to tell Haymitch.
"He just congratulated me," I tell him even though the other words I really want to say sit on the tip of my tongue.
I know he doesn't believe me, but the conversation is over because suddenly we're being seated and the countdown to the interview is beginning. Cato and I sit next to each other, and when he raises his arm and places it behind me on the top of the couch, I can't help but stare at him. He just raises an eyebrow at me, and turns back to Caesar when the countdown hits zero.
There's no time for adjustment, because Caesar delves right into action. Talking, joking, asking questions that I really don't want to answer. Thankfully some of them are easy to fake my way through. But Cato is much better than I am. He's confident and sure, while I try not to stumble my way through an explanation. It would be a lot easier if he could just answer all the questions, and the audience would probably enjoy it more. I'm a little confused by how he's acting though. He's too charming, making jokes and laughing at everything Caesar says. It doesn't matter though, because I can see Haymitch waving his hand around behind the camera, telling me to speak up more.
"I've got to say, it seems like quite a journey you two had to go through to get here," Caesar says. "There were times when I could practically feel the tension between you. Why did you make such an effort to work together?"
Caesar turns to me, and I know that I'm meant to answer the question. "It's like I said before the Games. Cato is a tough competitor, and I knew that I had a better shot with him." Haymitch looks unhappy with my answer, so I rush to continue. I really don't know what I'm doing.
"At least that's how I felt at first," I add, and Caesar looks a million times more interested. I can feel Cato's eyes on me and I try not to fidget.
"What changed?"
"I… I don't really know," I say, which isn't a lie. "I just know that when I was alone, I realized that Cato wasn't the person I thought he was. And I really didn't want him to die if we had any shot of making it out together."
Of course, I don't say that I saved him because I was lonely, afraid that I was going crazy, and then somewhere along the way I decided that I didn't want him to die, because then I'll have to explain that, which is a problem because I don't really understand it myself. But Caesar smiles and Haymitch nods, and I practically sink in relief.
"And what about you, Cato? What's your take on what happened in the arena?"
"You know, Caesar, it wasn't always easy. I'm sure you all saw that, well... let's just say we didn't always see eye to eye," Cato says.
Caesar laughs like it's some great joke, and maybe it is.
"We did. We did see that," Caesar says with a laugh and smile. "A lot of butting heads."
"It couldn't be helped at first," Cato smiles again for the camera, and I'm unsure about how he's acting. "She's just too stubborn."
I scoff and shake my head. "I'm not nearly as stubborn as you."
I startle and even Cato flinches slightly beside me at Caesar's boisterous laugh. He recovers quickly though, and a smirk is in place so fast that I think I might have imagined it.
"It's like I said, she just likes to contradict me."
"And what about you, Briar? Anything you'd like to add?"
I laugh and shake my head. "No, Caesar. At least not anything that Cato would agree with." I smirk at the boy next to me and he shakes his head. I think we're doing okay even though Cato is confusing me, and the smile I give Caesar comes easier.
Caesar laughs again. "That's probably true." He leans closer to us, his face suddenly becoming serious. "Now I have to ask, we all know the story that binds you two together," he starts. I tense even though I was expecting this. "Maybe that was the reason behind some of your differences of opinion? And if so, how did you move past that to become such a team? To win the Games?" he asks enthusiastically.
My muscles strain uncomfortably, and I frantically search for something to say.
"You know, Caesar," Cato begins and I snap out of my daze. I'm glad he's going first. He's trained for this. He knows what he's doing. "I've wanted this for a long time—the opportunity to bring pride to my district: the opportunity to be a Vvictor. At first, I didn't think Briar wanted it as much as I did, but I don't know if I've ever met someone who meets a challenge quite like she does," he finishes.
He may know what he's doing, but I don't. I can't breathe for a second because Cato didn't just make us equal—he complimented me. But it's not just that. For someone like Cato, who's been taught that the ability to fight is the most important thing in the world, it's the highest form of praise. I can't help but stare at him, something weird like understanding warming my chest. He's been all charm today though, and I want to see his face to see if he's as sincere as he sounds. He doesn't look at me though. The only thing I see is Demetrius' grim face somewhere off to the side, and I have to look away when Caesar starts talking again.
"That's very true," he says. "Now, don't take this the wrong way, Briar, but I must say that your tenacity was both a surprise and quite inspiring."
I blush, and I suddenly feel the need to repay Cato for his words. "I was just trying to make it out alive," I tell him. "And the truth is, Caesar, I never could have done it without Cato. I know we fought a lot, but tensions run high in the arena, and I'm glad we both made it out. I really didn't want to die," I say, hoping the blood rushing to my cheeks isn't too obvious to everyone in Panem. I'm not joking, but both Caesar and Cato chuckle, so I smile along.
Caesar goes on a tangent about all of our injuries, moving through our time in the arena. It feels like forever before he finally gets to the finale.
"Now, I must say, that finale, in my opinion, was one of the most dramatic I've seen in the Games. When the first cannon went off and no one knew who it was for, my heart stopped. Cato, how did you feel when you heard that sound, and then saw Briar laying there?"
Cato straightens a little in his seat, but he doesn't move his arm from behind me. I can feel his body heat seeping through my dress, and I try not to send him a weird look, because I'm still not sure why he put his arm there.
"It's hard to say. I knew that she was going to have trouble because I saw how bad her concussion was. But I was determined to win—that we'd both win. And like I said before, I knew she could rise to the challenge, so it really just pushed me harder to win. It was a relief to know it wasn't her."
Caesar looks oddly touched by the comment, while I try my hardest to keep a straight face. I never know what I'm going to get out of Cato, and he's just making me more confused. I glance up at him, and this time, he looks over to me. I swallow heavily, and we both look away.
Caesar takes that as an opening to talk about what is was like for Cato to win and follow in his brother's footsteps. There's nothing for me to say, and I'm extremely grateful because I can't stop thinking about what Cato said and if I think he meant it or not. Did he really not want me to die? It seems unbelievable, but then again, I didn't want him to die. I've already decided that I don't think he's a terrible person, so should it be that hard to believe? Even though I try to ignore it, I can feel something like hope seep into me. I don't get how it came to this: how I've found myself hoping that Cato doesn't hate me. I don't like feeling this way at all.
"Unfortunately," Caesar says, bringing my attention back to the interview, "it seems like we only have time for one more question. So where do you two go from here now that you'll be returning to your home districts? Will you keep in touch?"
"Yes," I hear Cato answer before I even have a chance to think about it. I try to keep my face neutral, so that no one realizes how that's taken me by surprise.
"So this has been discussed?"
"Yeah. Hopefully, we'll both have phones, so it shouldn't be too hard," Cato says, and I have the distinct feeling that he's planned this out.
Well actually, it's not a feeling. It's more like a fact because we haven't talked about this. We've barely had a conversation since leaving the arena. He looks so sure in what he's saying though, that I can't help but nod along. And when Caesar looks to me for agreement, I give it.
"We'll definitely stay in touch. That's what friends do," I say, trying not to look horrified at my words. Are we friends?
"And we'll see each other in a few months for the victory tour, so it shouldn't be too bad," Cato finishes, tacking on a smile that I mirror.
Caesar smiles and says something about being pleased at how this turned out, and then he signs off. As soon as he gets up and walks away, I turn to Cato, my eyes narrowing.
"What was that?"
"What was what?"
"You were… you were being weird," I finally get out, because I really don't know how to describe it.
He tilts his head to the side, looking slightly amused. "You're going to have to be more specific."
"You were being… I don't know. You were being all nice and stuff."
"Would you have preferred I be mean?" he asks, looking a little confused.
"Well no, but… did you really not want me to die?" My eyes widen as soon as the words leave my mouth, because I didn't mean to say that out loud.
He looks taken aback for a moment, like he didn't expect that either. He shrugs and glances away. "Did you really not want me to?"
We sit there in silence for what feels like minutes. It answers the question for both of us, saying the 'yes' that neither of us can speak. I want to ask him why, but I don't get a chance. Demetrius calls him over and he's gone, telling me he'll see me at the train station.
Slowly, I make my way over to Haymitch. He barely notices me at first because he's watching Cato with a calculated look in his eye. I'm getting really tired of being confused, and this isn't really helping.
"You did good, kid," Haymitch says, finally looking at me.
He glances back towards district Two, and the confusion and restlessness bubbles over. "What's going on Haymitch?"
"What do you mean?" He has the nerve to look confused.
"Everyone's acting strangely. You. Cato. Even Katniss and Peeta. What's going on?" I repeat.
"I'm not sure what you mean," he says, making his way back to our floor.
"Stop lying to me," I say, ignoring the twinge of desperation in my voice. He doesn't stop walking, but I do. "Snow said something to me."
That gets him to stop. He turns to me, a frown settling on his features. "What did he say?"
I'm afraid to say the words to him, because I'm afraid that I'm right.
"What did he say?" he asks again, his voice sounding impatient. And maybe a touch concerned.
I take a deep breath. "He told me that a lot of people in the Capitol went out of their way to support me, and that… and that he hopes I can find a way to make it up to them in the future."
Haymitch curses under his breath and then pulls me forward. We don't stop until we're in the bathroom and he's turned on every water source in the place.
"He's not happy, is he?" I say. I can feel the panic building in my chest, making it difficult to breathe.
"No, he's not."
I stand there dumbly for a second, trying to figure out why. The announcement of the Quarter Quell comes rushing back to me and so do the images from last night, and it hits me suddenly.
"The rumors are true, aren't they? The districts are rebelling," I whisper. Katniss and Peeta really did spur this.
He nods, and the flood of emotion is overwhelming. I don't know if I should feel happy or afraid. But Snow's open threat tells me it's the latter.
"But I… I didn't do anything," I say frantically. "I didn't rebel, I didn't say anything. I'm not Katniss. I didn't do anything special."
"But you fed it!" he whispers back. "You and that boy from Two."
"But how, Haymitch? I wasn't trying to—"
"By surviving," he says.
I have nothing to say to that because there's no way I can fix this. I have no excuse like Katniss and Peeta did, and neither does Cato. He should have killed me. At least that's how Snow sees it.
"You were talking to Heavensbee. You knew he wasn't happy about how the Games ended, didn't you?"
He nods.
My head spins.
"I can't fix this, can I?"
"No, kid, you can't. As long as the both of you are alive, there's a problem." Haymitch glances at the clock on the wall, and goes to turn the water off. "Come on. We need to get on the train."
I move on autopilot from there, because I can't think of anything but our conversation. 'You fed it,' he said. He's right. As long as we're both alive, Snow won't be happy because if we're friends, we're united against the Capitol, and if we're not, I'm the rebellion and Cato's the Capitol, and it solves nothing. I thought that maybe this once, I had won. But I was wrong. I've just exchanged one game for another.
There aren't many people in the station when we arrive, only a few cameras to film our departure, and I'm glad because there's only one person I need to find. I can see his blond hair clearly above the other people, and he must see me too, because he begins walking towards me. I speed up, because I know I'm going to get pulled onto the train any second.
"So this is it for now," he says when we finally meet.
I nod, trying to work up the courage to say what needs to be said. I owe him that. "Did you mean it when you said we'd keep in touch?" I ask, even though it's not what I really want to say. I don't know how I can tell him with all of these people around. I am curious about the answer though.
"If you want," he says.
"I do," I tell him immediately, surprising both of us.
"Okay."
"Briar, we need to go," I hear Peeta say from behind me.
I'm running out of time, and if I don't do it now, I don't know if I'll ever get the chance. So I do the only thing I can think of. I throw my arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug. He rocks slightly, obviously not expecting this. I feel his arms wrap tentatively around my waist, and I know I only have a few more seconds.
"Snow threatened me," I whisper against him. He tenses, but I keep going. "He's not happy. Be careful."
I pull back when someone clears their throat, but I'm too scared to be embarrassed. I stare at him for a moment, hoping he understands what I'm saying. I see recognition in his eyes, and I breath out a sigh of relief.
"Time to go," Effie says cheerily.
My time in the Capitol is up.
"Take care," Cato says, and I think it's the most sincere I've ever heard him.
I nod and say, "You too," before we're ushered in separate directions and onto separate trains.
The train begins to move, and everything begins to blur together, leaving the Capitol behind me. The whole day is blur, because I can't think of anything but home and the people I want to see. Before I know it, I can see the trees that have become so familiar and hear the cheers that haven't. People wait outside, people waiting for me, and the first remnants of peace settle in my chest since this all started. The doors slide apart, and I take a deep breath. Then I take my first step home.
AUTHOR'S NOTE:
So there it is guys, the final chapter. So it turns out Briar is alive... how do you guys feel about that? I'm working on a sequel right now, but it probably won't be out until next fall at the earliest. Like I said last week, I plan on doing some one-shots if people are interested, so feel free to send me suggestions! But keep in mind, since I'm doing a sequel, keep the suggestions to before a few weeks after Briar returns home because that may or may not be where the sequel takes off...
lovewords: Ahhh, you're reviews made my night! You'll just have to wait and see how Briar and Cato's relationship plays out, and how she deals with the aftermath of the games.
SylviaHunterOfArtemis: Yup, she's alive! For a while, I did play around with killing her, but ultimately, I became more interested in telling the story of someone who has to deal with the revolution without being in the spotlight like Katniss, so here we are.
Mely-the-Mockingjay: ahahahahahaha the suspense! I'm not typically good at it, so I'm glad I pulled it off this time.
Peace-n'-Luv-4601: Ah, don't die! I hope you survived and are feeling better now that the suspense is over.
WhiteEevee: I was pretty happy with the dream sequence, not gonna lie... Breaking the finger... yeah, a little aggressive, but that's how Cato is. At least it worked. Sassy Cato and Briar are my fave. Those are some of my favorite things to write.
ThatGirl: You don't have to miss me too much! I'll try be around as much as possible. Let me know if there's anything you want to see!
deslashshipper: Oh my gosh, that's one the best things anyone has ever written me. You're inspiration?! Oh man, thank you. I can't even explain how big of compliment that is 3
AlphaZero21: haha glad you came back around just for the suspense
Anyway guys, I can't say how much I appreciate all the amazing comments, support, and reactions I've gotten for this story. As my first foray into writing, you guys have really inspired me to keep going and to try new things. Hope you all enjoyed this journey as much as I did! THANK YOU 3