Another long chapter, I'm sorry, but I don't have the heart to cut them in half. We'll close this chapter with the reaping ceremony of the 65th Games (included!).
To Gingerfluff: Lyme drove Plutarch's car because Plutarch had drunk and Lyme had not. Plutarch would have taken a taxi otherwise.^^
Thank you all for the reviews.
Year 64, November, FLASH
Mags knocked gently on the door, and opened when there was no sound.
The room was flooded in warm sunlight, but the young man on the bed remained curled on himself, his back to the world around him.
He was dressed and washed, and Mags knew they hadn't pushed him too far. But it had been close; Shale had never been one of the cold ones.
"I failed, right?" Shale whispered.
Mags pulled out a chair and sat in front of the bed. "No, Shale, you didn't." Not yet and hopefully not at all.
A small giggle escaped his lips. "So, this is a normal reaction?" he said, turning to face her. He was so pale, his red-rimmed eyes staring back at her with a hint of accusation. "It wasn't even real… It was a whole week ago," he said, anger slowly coloring his cheeks.
He sat up, cross legged on his undone bed. "I haven't failed?"
Cocked eyebrows, the little smile, the insolent tone perfectly pitched. This wasn't the Shale that had come, this was training, and Mags knew it even when the boy didn't notice. They were shaped, shaped to be the teenagers the Capitol crowd could relate to: spirited, cheerful, sassy, vindictive and with a friend at their side.
A week before, Shale had seen Delfina die.
"No, Shale. Because you're going to stand up finally knowing what you're fighting for."
During the two last years of training, the four potential volunteers learned to know their future district partner better than themselves, but no matter how renowned Four's duos were, in the end the Hunger Games weren't played in teams.
Intellectually, they all knew it well, and only three times in over fifty years had Mags had her Careers fall in love with each other at FLASH, but viscerally… that was what the Test was for.
"Yeah," Shale replied stiffly. He didn't move.
For three days they were locked in an empty room, alone with their thoughts, woken by sudden noises when they tried to sleep. On the third day, the hallucinations predictably started, and there was a screen that gave the illusion of a bigger room, a screen that showed them the death of their partner, a screen that showed them blood and flames.
Year after year, Mags watched them scream and crawl, she watched the claw and pound at the screen or else try to get out of the room, begging for help, or, for the most resilient, insulting them with all their might. She was there when they woke up from sedation in a soft bed, she saw the disbelief, the relief but she also so the anger, the pain, and the cutting understanding.
"She can die with you there," Mags said, "or she can die with Merrill there."
It was the last step. Those who recovered could later laugh about anything, even if it was torn from their lips at the worst of times. They had to.
"Why would I be the one outliving her?" Shale snapped. "I'm the second, they're both more skilled. She'd definitely more skilled."
Mags gave him a long stare. "Then you won't have to see her die," she said softly.
Shale stood up as if burned. He forced a small smile. "May I bash up your nephew with a trident for an hour or two?"
"Why not Merrill?" Mags didn't ask why he didn't want to spar with Delfina.
"Finnick's better with the trident. Merrill would drop it and stick his fingers in my eyes or something." Shale rolled his eyes. "He hates weapons bigger than his arm, and he doesn't shut up when we spar, and then I'll really try to kill him."
Mags granted him the point. Merrill had a viciously sharp tongue.
"Don't take it out on Finn, he'll be happy to help," she said. She was surprised to hear Finnick was that good already. "He was asking after you." Mags smiled when she saw Shale soften at the news. "The details of the Test are strictly confidential," she added.
"Of course," Shale whispered.
Mags' benevolent smile betrayed none of her sorrow. Once the volunteer was chosen, there was no going back.
Year 65, February, Lycorias, Victory Tour.
Cashmere stood tall on the stage, glamorous, proud and polished. Chrysoberyl flanked her as she recited her speech in clear crystal tones.
The storm of memories in Mags' mind brought her far away from Lycorias' windswept square.
Cashmere licking her knife clean off Lief's blood on the giant screen before sliding out of her uniform to wash herself in the translucent waters, flashing the cameras a sensual, complicit smile as the razor-toothed fish mutts let her be for the pleasure of the viewers.
Insane, cruel, wild, slut, so many adjectives thrown between mentors, but Mags had held her own counsel, because One females were trained. They were trained to make the viewers think of things different than blood and death. Under Evadne Achlys they had breezed through the Games, incarnations of class, beauty and refinement amidst the violence and indignity of the arenas. Under Snow, the empresses whom Vicuña had once trained soon became courtesans, sensual and violent in their passion. Cashmere was fire where the other victors had been ice. Annalise, victor of the 22nd, never a beauty, but so fine and graceful that viewers had almost expected the dying to apologize when their blood soiled her clothes, Eve of the 38th, with only one kill to her name, who had enslaved her allies with her silver tongue and spread more chaos with words than the best killers with their whistling swords, and Chrysoberyl of course, the lethal ghost of the 48th Games, silent and etheral. All of them had seemed older than their eighteen years, ice queens too far above the common man to warrant more than a fantasy.
Cashmere was no ice queen. She was flame and fury, youth and lust. She hadn't stayed in the shadows, she hadn't feared to get dirty, leaving seven bodies in her wake. Cecelia had been beautiful, a natural stubborn beauty that had bloomed among the polluted concrete streets of Eight, but Cashmere was polished and radiant, raised in luxury and at ease under the projectors' avid glare.
Nori left with the others when the crowd dissolved but Mags stayed. She always stayed and she would always stay. Dinner with the mayor was a quiet affair with few questions asked. No new victor deserved an interrogation and Mags made sure that at least in Four, they would find some respite.
"Cashmere, walk with me," Mags said when the plates were taken off the table. It was late enough that the drugs given to Cashmere so she could get through the day with the usual Career aplomb were wearing off.
"Go and listen to her," Chrysoberyl said when Cashmere didn't move. Cashmere was harder to read than her brother. Gloss had been more open, his nervousness bleeding through, but he had also a rare optimism to him, something that made Mags believe that he would pull through.
Cashmere rose. They headed towards the beach and Mags could see in Cashmere's bright eyes the violent urge to run away.
"Did you want to win?" Mags asked. "The ocean keeps our secrets," she added when Cashmere simply let her coat fall to the ground and crouched to feel the cold sand through her fingers.
Statistically, Two had the most sponsors, but One's sponsors gave more and they expected to be rewarded. Statistically One's girls reached the last eight but then they pulled back, subtly enough that only the Career mentors noticed, just enough not to be in the final. Mags didn't think Cashmere had been any different, she'd been just a little too skilled, a little too popular, and the competition a little too weak.
Cashmere finally met Mags' eyes. They were tight with anger and six months of abuse, but they were bright and aware, and that was a relief.
"I wasn't supposed to win," Cashmere whispered. "But in the end, I was foolish enough to forget that." She sighed, spreading her arms out to collect the chilly wind, unmindful of the goose bumps on her flawless skin. "We are queens in District One during the two years before we volunteer, every party, every event, we are there, untouchable, a promise. We rise and crash and burn in the arena, at the summit of our power and glory, and that's how it should be." She smiled, and for a second, it almost reached her eyes. "I never thought Gloss would win," she said, her tone softer as she spoke of her brother. "The arena changed him, but in the first weeks, I could recognize him. Later he would not speak to me, I was barely allowed to see him… They probably thought it would interfere with my motivation," she said, her lips curling into a snarl. "I don't need him to speak to understand now."
She missed her brother, that was plain. She doubtless had no other family worthy of the name.
Mags didn't dare touch her, but she let no pity enter her eyes. "I will make Cecelia speak to you. She has the greatest experience at being sold."
"District Eight," Cashmere said, her eyebrow arching. "Does she have a clue?"
"She thinks you chose this," Mags admitted, "it is up to you to convince her it is not the case, Cashmere, or simply you could play on her empathy. She doesn't need to understand you to understand the situation you find yourself in. I can give you weapons, but only you can fight."
Cashmere removed her shoes and walked towards the waves. Mags' heart accelerated: if Cashmere wanted to end it in water, Mags would only be able to watch. Instead, the young woman stopped, her long golden hair shimmering in the moonlight.
"There's never a trace, they heal bruises and broken bones, and when I leave the hospital, I am perfect once more, as if nothing had ever happened."
Cashmere's emotionless voice made her words even crueler, and Mags struggled to keep the distance she needed to help that broken girl.
"They can remove many things," Mags said carefully, her shoes sinking in wet sand. "empathy, memories too, recent ones."
Cashmere whirled and grabbed Mags' arm so quickly that Mags' breath hitched in alarm, but the grip wasn't bruising. "They can do that?" Cashmere said, her urgency painful.
"Yes. Who is your doctor, Cashmere?"
"Dr. Gaius Silverstein, his specialty is skin regeneration," she said through clenched teeth, her hands absently rubbing her wrists.
Even with decades of mentoring behind her, Mags struggled to contain her outrage and disgust. How dare they, they who called them barbarians, they who took pride in being the survivors of the cataclysm, the new humanity risen from civilization's ashes, enslave, oppress and use, as if it was their given right. Mags had heard that age taught moderation and acceptance, but she was as furious as she would have been in her youth.
"We'll see if we can convince Dr. Silverstein, or if you shall have another doctor," Mags said, her voice hoarse. "Cashmere, you cannot forget everything, they will not allow it, and you'll live it on the moment, but you can be numb when you do. It's not a solution, but it is a weapon, for the time being."
"For the time being," Cashmere repeated, her eyes on the dark ocean, enjoying the taste of those words. She smiled, the beautiful but hard smile that had made her victims weep. "Then maybe, Gloss and I will finally be able to talk."
She walked away without thanks, her long legs covered with sand, but Mags didn't need them. Dr. Gaius Silverstein... Mags would go to the Capitol the following week for her back and muscle pains, Syrianus would be told.
Year 65, April, FLASH
"Get out, damn you!" Finnick groaned, putting all his weight on the jammed trident.
He didn't know what had possessed him to throw it with all his might at the dummy at point blank range.
"He loses much more gracefully when there's no lady to watch," Shale said.
Finnick didn't have to turn to picture his disgusting smirk. He bit back a comment about Delfina and ladies. It felt immature. Instead he redoubled his efforts on the trident.
The shriek of compressed wickers and fibers unexpectedly gave way to shredding. Finnick fell crouched on the ground, showered by an explosion of dummy.
He spat a bit of wicker out of his mouth.
"You broke the trident," Shale said, shaking his head. "Who breaks tridents?"
Finnick winced and turned the man-sized weapon to assess the damage. The thinner center point was bent almost at a right angle.
"Ah but Finnick is a little prodigy, aren't you, Little Finn?" Delfina said, ruffling his hair and picking out lingering pieces of fiber.
"Forget the Career pack, you should take a younger ally and patronize him," Finnick said with a mild glare. "You'll make the sponsors split their sides."
Delfina chuckled. "It's cool that you can joke about it."
"Half our training is about us joking about it," Shale replied wryly.
Finnick wasn't sure how many jokes he'd manage, but he agreed that it made things easier. "I'll get a new trident," he said, taking his damaged weapon.
The weapons room wasn't empty. Startled by an unexpected shape, Finnick almost stabbed Annie Cresta.
Annie was peering at the various daggers, holding a small, particularly shiny one in her hand. Behind her, a long-haired first year with round cheeks and a short stout body was staring at Finnick in utter relief.
"Annie, you can't be here," Finnick exclaimed, his heart still beating hard. "How did you even get in?"
Annie gave him an angelic smile which made her look even younger. "I'm supposed to be his friend, even when he's weird like that."
Finnick smiled guiltily, because he was suddenly reminded of Krill and that stupid plan with the exams. He glanced back at the boy. So this was Annie's Sheller… He looked a bit like Gilly's fat cat, Mini-me, who, despite his chubby face, looked pretty eerily aware for a cat.
"I wanted t-t-to see the wea- weapons. I d-d-didn't expect us t-t-to be locked in, or you t-t-t-to want a souvenir," the first year grumbled. He spoke slowly, his eyes darting to Finnick but when Finnick was careful not to react to his stutter, he went on. He then grinned. "C-come on, Annie, if you want a shiny bla-blade, we c-can make one with p-paper, g-g-glue and foil."
Annie put the blade down. "I was just looking. You know how to make fun shiny stuff with cheap materials, Barnacle?"
"Inst-instruct-t-tor Rivers said my inventi-tiveness was one of the reasons I-I was t-to be her part-t-tner," Barnacle said, tilting his chin up proudly as he stuttered.
Finnick frowned, now curious. "I had a partner. We both had a lot to teach each other. I was spoiled and naïve, he was a bully, but I was cheerful and decent and he was sharp and real. What's Annie to give you?"
"Hugs," Annie replied proudly, wrapping her arms possessively around the boy. "Be careful with Finnick Odair, he collects secrets like I do things, but he's very nice."
Finnick raised his eyebrows. "Do you have a secret, pretty lady?" he said, making Annie smile at him. "Come on, let's get you back to Instructor River's office."
As they walked, he realized that Barnacle spoke a lot, and that Annie looked completely unruffled by his labored speech, when even Finnick had to bite his tongue not to finish the words for the boy and put him out of his misery. He hoped Barnacle wouldn't be teased too much and decided he would keep a look out.
Finnick tried to open the door before realizing there was a note. At a meeting, back at 4 pm.
He froze. He was sure he'd heard movement inside when he'd tried to open.
"Annie, Barnacle, I'll lead you to your next class, you'll see her later," he said, loudly enough to be heard but not enough to be suspicious.
He hoped he was being paranoid and that it was the wind. A quick look from the other corridor showed him the window was closed. He let Annie and Barnacle go on alone to class, they knew the path.
He waited for someone to come out. There were very few people in the corridors. It was indeed the perfect time to rummage through an Instructor's belongings. Odd though, that no alarm had sounded.
He didn't have to wait long. His eyes widened when he recognized Merrill coming out and swiftly locking the door with a piece of metal. Merrill of them all would know how to disable a simple alarm, most people just didn't have the guts to go cutting circuits. Merrill looked empty handed, but Finnick couldn't go check under his shirt.
Finnick stealthily left the other way, frowning. Rivers wasn't Merrill's tutor, and she didn't work with Careers. She hadn't been Delfina's or Shale's either, so there was really no reason for him to be curious about her files.
It didn't matter. Had it been anyone other than the Career trained to volunteer, Finnick would have confronted him directly, instead he broke into a run.
He shouldn't have been surprised to find Instructor Rivers in Mags' office.
"Merrill was just in your office, Instructor. I caught him by chance, he doesn't know I saw him. I think you should know. He left pretty quickly. I don't know where he went."
A sudden chill that Finnick couldn't explain descended in the room.
Mags took out her phone. "Sergent Aleyn. I don't want any untried peacekeeper having any contact with any of my students today. Please come to FLASH right now."
Finnick stared, wondering how it had become so serious. Sure files held very confidential information, but peacekeepers? Was something up with Merrill that no one knew?
"Thank you, Finnick," Rivers said, "We'll find Merrill, you can go back to whatever you were doing."
"But –"
"That was a politely phrased order, Sweetie," Rivers said with a tight smile. "Don't worry, you'll have all the time to ask later."
Year 65, April, the next day
"We have found him and put him where you told us," Aleyn said. "I personally checked that the cameras were disabled, Alyx is waiting for you."
Mags stood up, the poison pills heavy in her pockets. The hope Merrill had wanted files for something FLASH-related had been crushed when the young man had failed to turn himself in. They'd never have punished the prime volunteer too severely three months before the Hunger Games. "Well done, let's go."
Twenty four hours, he'd escaped them twenty-four hours without even leaving the premise. Mags' insides clenched. He may even have survived the Games, Merrill was intelligent, maybe too intelligent and Mags suspected she knew what he had been looking for.
"Did he talk to anyone?"
"Not to my knowledge, Richard shot him on sight with a sedative. He was on the roof and the men were constantly in groups of three."
Mags nodded. "Excellent, we can go in."
It was the Test room, there was no room with better sound insulation, but Mags had had chairs and a table put in there. The walls were covered with blue drapes and on the table burned incense sticks. Merrill had not reacted as violently to the Test as Shale, he was less close to Delfina, and much less emotional in general, but Mags didn't want to trigger memories.
Merrill was awake, relaxed with a pleasant expression on his face. He was a masterful actor, and Mags feared that if it had not been for chance, he would have fooled them all.
"I appreciate the redecoration," he said with a soft smile. "I almost didn't recognize it."
"We're not cruel," Mags whispered.
"No," Merrill agreed. "But you are rebels. It's rather astonishing, actually," he said, blinking rapidly. "It's everywhere." He grinned at Aleyn. "You too then… absolutely everywhere."
"I should whip you for such heinous implications," Aleyn said outraged, his hand going to his weapon as he stared suspiciously at the two women.
Mags would have to commend him, because the flash of hope in Merrill's eyes proved he now thought he could survive and because of that, he would talk.
"Let's go hypothetical, because it's fun," Alyx said, mirroring Merrill's former grin in an almost frightening way. "What are you hoping? Are you an idealist, are you looking for a reward? Did you mean not to volunteer in the end?"
"People will keep dying until rebels stop existing. My parents kept telling me I should be grateful, because they were rebels, as if that's an excuse for being despicable parents. And then they abandoned me when peacekeepers broke into the house to arrest them," Merrill said with a hateful smile. "You know the rest of the story."
Mags clasped her hands together and painted impatience over her face. "They're despicable parents who happen to be rebels. Some despicable people love the Capitol. You're smart Merrill, come on, I thought you'd be entertaining, Heavens know you're trained for it. There is no district with a lower execution rate than Four, so evidently, it isn't correlated to the number of rebels. If you're going to lie, make it believable."
Aleyn tensed. He'd never seen that Mags, the Mags that had been born after the 9th Hunger Games, the Mags of angles and lies who locked her heart away when children died.
Merrill smiled again. "We hear of rebels, I want to be the collaborator, the one they show on TV. I'll be a symbol."
"So hypothetically, you've just found out that we've got more power in Four than you ever expected, but you want to be a tool. Let's imagine you get a pretty house out of the deal, then what?"
Merrill's eye twitched, and Mags knew she had struck a nerve.
"For you the Capitol is where everyone is wealthy and free to act as they wish," she said, biting back her aggravation. "You're not a born Capitolite, the freest you'll come is victor, but only because you're in Four. Many victors are very much tools."
"Snow didn't notice you," Merrill shot back. "He's blind, he's blind because he needs people like me. I know Four, I was trained to assess people, and like you said, I'm brilliant," he said, without an ounce of modesty, "I costs him so little to give me what I want, and I'll be invaluable."
"You're absolutely right, that would have worked under Achlys, Merrill," Mags replied, her throat tightening because she knew the outcome of this. "Snow won't do it. He inherited a very stable Panem and it's been crashing to pieces ever since. You have seen the propaganda, which is globally still manned by the people who did under Achlys, I have seen the man, and Merrill, you are smarter than he is." There was nothing gratifying about seeing Merrill blanch. "He doesn't care about making Panem work, he cares about not sharing power, because he is paranoid and believes that ruling only through fear is viable."
Intelligence mattered little in those ruled by arrogance and mistrust. Mags both hoped Snow wouldn't change and feared the day he would feel threatened, because she had glimpsed a man both irrational and bloodthirsty in anger.
Aleyn sheathed his weapon. There were no more hypotheticals. "You were right, young man, I'm on her side," he said, a flicker of pity in his blue eyes.
After a tense silence, Merrill chuckled, it was a strangled noise.
"The proof wasn't the kind I could show anyway," he said. "It's in the common knowledge pieced together, the people you see, the things you don't write down… You're right, Ma'am. I'll volunteer, and maybe the world will finally make sense once I'll be on the other side…"
Mags stood up and took a couple of pills from her pocket. "Take this, it'll clear your head," Mags said.
It was quick, but not quick enough for him not to realize it was happening. He pushed his chair backwards, his hands clutching his heart.
Aleyn caught him as he fell. His fingers rushed Merrill's neck where he checked for a non-existent pulse. "He's dead! Mags, people saw him come in with us!"
Mags bowed her shoulders, her eyes misting with tears. "They won't ask questions, they never do, and he won't be missed," she said hoarsely.
The moment Merrill would have feared for his life in the arena, he'd have blackmailed them on screen, aware Snow would have wanted him heard. Or maybe he'd have kept his word, but Mags couldn't take the risk. She felt ill.
"The Capitol is an Eldorado for most of them. Most of the hate is rooted in envy," Alyx said, grasping Mags' arm in concern. Her eyes were wide with horror and shock, but she stood staunchly by Mags, and that meant the world to her. "There's little we can do to change that."
Mags' eyes were locked on Merrill's swelling face, cutting ice seeping into her limbs. He was a handsome young man, determined and so clever, but he'd still had it all wrong. He shouldn't have died like this, not for the Capitol.
"What will you tell the students?" Aleyn said uncomfortably.
A rueful smile graced Mags' lips and her teeth grit hard enough to hurt. "He tried a mix of chemicals to boost his metabolism for the Games. It was fatal."
It had been good enough for Evadne Achlys, nobody had questioned Tang's death. It would be good enough for her.
Year 65, 31st of May, FLASH.
Finnick grunted as he tied his seventh knot on the rope. "I'm not sure I get the point of this."
He'd rather be sparring with tridents, or even helping Shale with his survival theory. Ropes really weren't his thing.
"You're wasting it," Shale said. "You should get ten knots on this length."
"There shouldn't be a dearth of rope around here anytime soon," Finnick replied, glancing at his toughening hands for scrapes or wounds. At least they didn't bleed anymore.
"You never know where life will bring you," Shale said, his jaw tightening. "Life's too precious to be left to chance." He smiled and put his hand out, surprising Finnick who grabbed it nonetheless.
"What's up?" Shale was too tense, too edgy. He'd been like that since Merrill's death.
Merrill, who'd been giving peacekeepers files in exchange for drugs. It was crazy, Finnick thought he'd been smarter than that. But then the Hunger Games were crazy.
"It's the last two months, Finn," Shale said, bringing him sharply back to the present. "We're not to see anyone other than the Instructors." He let out a dry chuckle. "I've heard they get even more serious about what you eat and how much you sleep."
Finnick swallowed, hurt he'd not been told before. "Do you have a reserve?"
A flash of anger entered Shale's eyes. "Might as well not have, but I'm not sure I'd want one." He seemed to be chewing his tongue, but Finnick struggled just as much to find the right words.
"I want a ten-knot thread as a token," Shale finally said before walking out.
Finnick stared at the door, caught too unprepared to do more. A violent shiver suddenly coursed up his spine. The Hunger Games. It wasn't just other people, strangers. It was like a punch to the stomach. Was it like that, living in the outer Districts? He'd thought he'd known, but now iron chains tugged at his wrists, keeping him from rushing out and stopping Shale. There was no male victor in Four.
Shale would die.
Finnick sat back on the mat and restlessly begun undoing his knots. He had to push it away, he had to stop thinking, because now he understood. Now he heard their words, and now the laughter hurt so much more.
"Do good, Finnick? You don't know what you're saying," his mother said, nervous chuckling bursting from her lips. "But be decent and study, that at least can only help you."
He looked at the six aligned knots, his fingers swollen and burning from his frantic twisting and tugging.
"Damn it!" He threw the rope across the room
Finnick ran. He ran to Mags. She'd always known everything, and now, that terrified Finnick. She knew Shale would die, she trained them every year and she knew they would die. There had been no Careers when Nana Esperanza had been of reaping age. She knew the fear, the fear that Finnick could barely begin to grasp, but he could taste its power.
How could the Capitol have allowed Mags to take away such power? What did she give them? Finnick froze right in front of the door. No… He'd never get answers from Mags. Angle was a fancy name for lies and Mags was the best.
He sprinted towards town, sprinted like a kid who didn't know anything about keeping your strength or breathing right. He sprinted out of FLASH, his feet digging into the soft ground, and he realized his body was okay with it, burning with an energy he'd wasn't aware he had.
He would have jumped over the garden fence if he'd not had an audience.
"Hola, Lad, looking for a job?"
Finnick pushed his sweaty hair out of his eyes and smiled. "No, Adrian, I'm looking for Esperanza. I have a message from Mags, at FLASH."
Every word hurt, because this was his Lito and Litos weren't supposed to forget your face. But all grandfathers were rare when you were in your teens and the son of a youngest son. Finnick saw how Adrian got upset when he insisted: 'Come on, I'm your grandson! You know me!' so he didn't and he just was happy to see him smile, cherishing the moments when Adrian actually remembered.
"You do look like these FLASH types, strapping and willful," the man said, a grin appearing beneath his fat gray beard. His eyes turned wistful. "You've got eyes even greener than my lad's. He's at FLASH too, in the whaler courses. I hope he and that Tyna girl won't get caught fooling around on a boat again."
Finnick grinned. He'd so use that if his parents ever told him off about dating. "I know him, he's a great guy," he said, hoping Lito would never hear the tightness in his chest.
Warm arms wrapped around his shoulders. "Hello, Nana," Finnick whispered.
"Thank you," Esperanza said, her soft voice thick with emotion. "Come inside."
"It'd be selfish to upset him just for my sake," Finnick said, feeling less brave than he sounded. "He doesn't forget you, does he?"
Esperanza shook her head with a small smile. "He has fifty years of memories of me, it's etched too deep. Why are you here, sweating like a docker in midsummer?"
Finnick sat down at the kitchen table. The questions about Careers seemed inadequate now, just the tip of the reefs. He could still see his Lito outside the window.
"Everyone does what Mags says. If she ever forgets why she does it, will they know what to do?"
Finnick had been okay with just Mags knowing, but that was the point: people ruled their own homes but outside, she was the only one to make the rules. Her and the Capitol.
"If she goes, the Capitol's the only one making the rules," Finnick said. "I know there are a hundred people who'd obey without question if Mags asks, but if she stops asking?"
Esperanza paused, and that pause made Finnick feel he was on slippery ground. Esperanza didn't pause, she spoke of everything, but this wasn't a silence, it was the silence. The silence that fell on the room because there was no answer you could afford to give. The silence born of Capitol rules.
Finnick then knew it should have clicked much earlier. It should have clicked the day they'd started having debate classes, the ones that taught you about fallacies and the importance of facts, because it was those classes which opened their eyes on how screwed up the news coming from the Capitol was, even if no Instructor had ever acknowledged it. They barely dared to acknowledge it among themselves.
"She's a rebel," Finnick whispered, afraid the word would echo and escape through the window, flying straight into a peacekeeper's ear.
But the real peacekeepers were much less frightening than the ones on TV.
Finnick smiled, now brandishing Esperanza's awkward silence as proof. "It was always normal, Uncle Cereus half in charge of the peacekeepers, except it doesn't make sense. It goes against everything the Capitol shows us on TV. It's been going on so long, that there's only your generation that remember what it was like before Mags."
Esperanza stared at him, and she wasn't his Nana, all warmth and –sometimes- drama, there was something hard, something angry, and suddenly it reminded him of Mags. "Larimar and Instructor Rivers could continue the work, at least in Creneis," she said, "Lorelei is picking up where Cereus left, and of the victors, Gilly is the most aware. Don't ask anyone else before checking with me."
"Except Gilly, they're all well over forty, Nana." And Gilly was so shy that Finnick barely knew the sound of her voice. There had to be other people. "Does Mags have secret meetings?"
Esperanza laughed. "You don't need to be a rebel to hold Four the way it is. Snow does not have the resources to try and gain full control on District Four."
"How can he not have the resources?" Finnick said, feeling dumb. He shook his head, he was getting distracted and his gut told him to hurry before Esperanza stopped answering altogether. "No, I believe you, but… but what's the point of being a rebel, if we can have a good life regardless?"
An acute sense of guilt filled him at the sudden tightness on Esperanza's face. He didn't know what he'd said wrong.
"Human beings are very resilient. They can find happiness in very cruel places," Esperanza said, grabbing Finnick's hand and squeezing it. "But society should be built on freedom and justice, and we have neither. The Capitol makes rebels feel isolated and helpless." She smiled ruefully. "Tell me Finnick, what is your opinion of Two? Be blunt."
"Tough, nasty people without much of a brain," Finnick said. "I wouldn't want them as friends."
Esperanza's lips twitched. "Three?"
"Very good at technology stuff but useless at anything else, they're pretty awkward too."
Now he really sounded like a jerk.
"Five?"
Finnick realized he had no opinion at all.
"Five is very good at being forgotten," Esperanza mused. "Six? Seven? Ten? Twelve? Where would you go to find trustworthy and clever people? Which District do you have a good opinion of?"
Finnick looked down. TV and the Hunger Games… it's the only thing they were given. His teeth clenched, and he all the more furious because up to now, he hadn't really cared. They were pawns, him and everyone else were bloody pawns to the Capitol. "Lorelei traveled, she loved Ten. Uncle Cereus is from One, and there was Marquise," Finnick said, recalling the stories.
They'd just been stories, but they should have been clues.
"Let's play a game, Finn," Esperanza said as he wriggled under the covers, "I'll tell you a secret."
"A secret, Nana?" Finnick said, sitting up straighter because secrets weren't shared with just anyone, so he had to show he was good enough to tell.
"It's about a peacekeeper –"
"Peacekeepers are scary." He'd just seen it on the TV. He'd gone to hide in the toilet, pretending he had to go, or else he'd have cried.
"Not this one, she was your Aunt Mags' best friend."
They'd done everything to make him feel safe as he grew up. He'd never measured just how against the Capitol such a very simple thing was.
"What can I do?" he asked. Rebels. Circe, he was in a family of rebels and he'd never had a clue. Had his father once asked too? Larimar, she'd said, but not Sol or Gloria, not Jasper or his father. How could Mags and Esperanza let them not know? It was dangerous but…
But if it was the right thing, then Finnick had to do something, even if his parents weren't part of it.
Esperanza wrapped her arms around him with a smile and planted a kiss on his forehead. "For now, pay attention and don't speak out. Many people speak without thinking and others would sell you out for a bit of money."
Finnick swallowed back his frustration but he nodded. The Capitol would already be gone if it was easy.
"Why did you ask me instead of Mags, Finnick?"
Finnick blushed. Nana was always so cheerful and supportive and she never complained or talked bad of people, and Finnick now felt like a horrible person. But he should tell her the truth, because if it was true that even his father didn't know…
"I knew Mags wouldn't talk," he finally admitted. Nana had always been much easier to read. "I'm happy, and honored, you told me. It wasn't a mistake," he said, hoping he didn't sound cocky. He didn't feel cocky. He'd do his best to keep his eyes open.
Year 65, June, Creneis Town.
It made him question everything. Rebels. It drove him crazy. He could only rely on what he knew and what he knew was that Merrill had been intelligent, too intelligent to think he'd have had access to drugs in the arena or that a few months of experimentation would do anything good. He also knew Merrill thought the Capitol was the best place in the world.
And now he knew Merrill had found something in Rivers' office, something worth disappearing for, and that Mags and Rivers were rebels. He shouldn't ask. He didn't need to ask, after all, he already knew. Except… Aleyn, Mags and Rivers, any of them could have killed Merrill, right? It shouldn't matter, but it did, a lot. Because Shale was now the volunteer.
Finnick couldn't sleep. There was this invisible hand shaking him awake. He had to ask. He had to man up and ask Mags. Except at five AM, they'd not even open the door.
"Gone swimming before FLASH. Left you some breakfast." Finnick scribbled on the note next to the sliced buttered bread and cut fruit. He loved summer for the fruit as much as for the sun, but he could barely swallow anything now.
He didn't expect to be alone in the reefs, it was dawn after all, and the sailors usually went for a swim before heading out, but he didn't expect to see a known face in the sea heading back for the shore with a small wriggling net.
"Hola, what have you been up to?"
"Diving," Annie said, her hands going to her ears as she tried to get the water out. "That's what I got in at FLASH for. I was looking for squids, found more crabs, but I still got a few."
Finnick smiled, because he really had no other response. "Great, but you shouldn't dive alone before dawn, Annie."
Annie shrugged. "Fine, I'll bring Barnacle next time. He can supervise."
That wasn't what he meant, but Finnick simply nodded. "That's what partners are for, Annie."
Compared to many of the others, Annie was a very cute crazy. He'd still tell Rivers, just to make sure she knew.
He'd hoped the water would get his mind calm, instead he swam like a madman until an irate Spring Gibbs shouted at him to get out of the nets' way. He dragged himself to shore, but as soon as he'd hit the path to FLASH, his muscles begging for respite and his stomach reminding him he hadn't eaten, he could see Merrill again, his too easy smile, his crafted attitude, and his deadly hands. Hands small enough to be a girls but who had you on the ground before you'd had time to finish that thought.
He stumbled in Mags' office, his skin sticky from salt and feeling like he'd walked all the way to Lycorias. His eyelids were made of stone.
"Finnick, you're skiving class, and your shirt is on the wrong way around," Mags pointed out with raised eyebrows.
Finnick nodded absently before the words tumbled out of his mouth in the worst way possible. "Did you kill Merrill, Auntie?"
Mags started, all joy drained from her face, and Finnick averted his eyes. He didn't dare look.
"From the beginning, Finnick," Mags said softly.
So Finnick told her. He stood up and went to sit on her desk, right next to her, like a little boy. Surely, she'd explain, and it would make sense. He couldn't start suspecting her, because if she didn't know, then there was no one to turn to.
"I don't think I've slept that much at all since Shale and Delfina left…" He finished. "What happens to people who find out, like me?"
Mags met his eyes, and Finnick was reassured to see she didn't hide. At least she knew, even if no one else did, she knew what she was doing. "Few ever find out about us, querido. It's often easy to distract those who start looking, or to discredit the words of those who speak without knowing. Many of those who found out joined us, and we are stronger for it. We often notice before it is too late and any blood is spilt. We try to give everyone a chance."
The building he was in spoke that louder than any words. "Yes," Finnick said, wrapping the relief around him like a blanket. He yawned. He was a mess, but less than it all had been. What could Merrill have done to have ruined all his chances?
He was proud of himself, because he didn't ask. And he didn't ask if it had been her, even if he knew it would not have been Rivers.
He wasn't frustrated at all anymore, to be only fourteen and to have been asked just to watch.
Year 65, August, Reaping Day.
Delfina Reeves shook Nori's and Mags' hands, a merry smile on her face as she volunteered.
Mags gazed at her proudly, swallowing back her sadness. The angle began now, and Delfina was perfect.
Her eyes tightened as she thought of Shale. He wasn't ready, he was still too passionate, not enough to harm her, but enough to burn if he outlived Delfina. She swallowed bitterly. Too late, they had been too late to give Merrill another chance and Shale would pay the price. Shale, and Finnick. Always, it seemed they would make mistakes. Mags allowed herself to feel the pain, but she stood tall, wearing a proud face, because it was just as necessary as everything else.
"The male tribute is Finnick Odair!"
Mags heart lurched, punching so hard against her ribcage she had to bite back a gasp. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She was too old for such scares.
Her eyes flew open again when she realized no shouts of volunteering topped the loud chatter in the crowd. Finnick, so painfully handsome in his new suit, was almost on the stage. She scanned the age groups, she could see shuffling, hesitation, someone stood out, then another, almost daring each other, the promise of wealth, of a new life, out-weighted by the fear, by the specter of murder and death.
She stared daggers at Shale, suddenly caring much less for his life, and he finally moved, his chest puffed out and his face a mask of confidence.
"I –"
"I'll stay, Shale," Finnick said clearly.
Mags' head snapped towards her nephew. He wasn't smiling. He looked confused and uncertain, more uncertain than he'd ever been, but still much more confident than any fourteen-year-old had any right to be on the tributes' stage.
"Finnick, no," she whispered.
Surely he wasn't so foolish as to think a couple of years at FLASH had made him special?
"Get off, Finnick," Delfina said with a strained grin, clapping his back. "We've got this, honest."
"I'll stay." That look in his eyes. The one who claimed 'I know what I'm doing.' Was it really so much different than 'I can do anything'?
He wilted when he saw Mags' expression. There was a storm behind her eyes that Finnick Odair was much too young to comprehend. Adria, Dover, Delmar, Mystral, Waverly, Dillian… all those children she had trained to die. Petrel, Valentia, shy Ceto, and Blue, so mature and caring, all those unfortunate teenagers she had lied to, whose hands she had held. Constantine, Lila, those hundreds of wonderful tributes who had died fighting every inch of the way, or who had died with more nobility than the world deserved, so that another would have the right to live. And what a life it was: Nori, Chelsea, Gilly, Eirene, all those shattered victors, who fought day after day to live a semblance of a normal life, their suffering hidden behind the façades of luxurious houses envied by all.
Vicuña, Marquise, Valerian, all those brilliant, irreplaceable, men and women who had given their lives so that Finnick Odair would never enter the Hunger Games.
Mags stood silent, fury radiating from every fiber of her being. She knew that if she opened her mouth, someone would pay with their lives. Someone she loved.
Finnick, standing half a foot taller than Mags, suddenly felt very small. He couldn't meet her gaze. But her gaze alone was not enough to make him step down.
"What were the chances of me being called?" He whispered, unable to bear the scorching silence as they were lead to the Justice Building. "It must have happened for a reason right? Shale… You know he never recovered enough. If Delfina had died… I couldn't let him take my place."
A reason... A dry chuckle tore through Mags' throat. Angelo and Tyna were big on destiny. They had always been lucky, it gave them strength and confidence, to believe it would last, that it was a constant in their lives.
What if he dies?
"Get Delfina out of earshot," she told Nori through clenched teeth. The other scrambled to obey. At least it was Nori this year, Nori wouldn't need her.
Mags cuffed Finnick, hard, as soon as the cameras were lowered.
He yelped in utter astonishment. "What, Mags!" She'd never hit to hurt before.
"I'll have no cheek from you," Mags rasped. "Not if you want to be a victor. This is serious, Finn. Twenty-three will be dead and this isn't one on one sparring matches. This is an arena."
She imagined herself a month from now head bowed, walking towards Esperanza. There would be no accusation in her sister's black eyes, and yet Mags could not bear it.
"My chances aren't much worse than Shale's, it should have been Merrill…" Finnick, his voice breaking in such an adolescent way that Mags' hand itched to lash out again. "It wouldn't have been fair to step down."
"You'd have your family bury you, for fairness?"
There wasn't an ounce of pity in Mags' eyes. How could he!
"I'd be a murderer otherwise," Finnick exclaimed, his fists balled in outrage.
"You'll be a killer either way," Mags snapped before she could stop herself.
Finnick flinched. "You volunteered because your beliefs mattered to you more than the danger, Mags! I just couldn't…" Finnick's shoulders slumped, bitterness and anger mixing on his features. "I had seconds, I screwed up," he admitted. "It's too late. I'll really try to listen properly, Auntie," he said, a slight tremble entering his voice. "You've got to mentor me like you would have mentored Shale."
Mags looked away, hating the tears that sprang in her eyes. She had to make him believe. If he didn't believe, he wouldn't win.
Unfortunately, she struggled to believe herself. She had to pull herself together, or she wouldn't be able to mentor worth a damn. He wanted to be a hero; she'd have to let him try. She allowed herself to see Finnick as a tribute, drinking in his tall, handsome frame, his striking features and sure step. Strategies and angles flooded to her mind as she recalled every sparring match, every survival exercise, every confrontation.
Mags grasped Finnick's arms, her thumbs digging into his skin. "You can win, Finnick Odair, but you will have to listen very carefully."
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