*Recough* Long chapter again. But hey, do you really mind?
Thanks for your reviews.^^
For Lollipop: Mags knows sign language too but Chelsea is the better teacher. About Anytos, answer is in the chapter.
Year 65, Early December, Creneis Town.
Mags couldn't keep the worry off her face as Cereus' wracking cough filled the house.
"Hey, Love," he greeted, his smile unable to hide his exhaustion. "The conclusion of this week is that we need to get supplies in Galene. The blocus is complete, only the Homeguards are getting supplies, and it looks to be minimal rations. The extra trains reached Lycorias, the forgery must have worked."
They'd tampered with train schedules, bringing food and grain destined to the Capitol to Lycorias. In the Capitol one of their people had forged letters to the drivers and drafted paperwork to excuse the 'delays'. The order to hoard had reached even the most remote villages. Lycorias held over half Four's population and Orithyia was close enough to Lycorias to benefit from the extra supplies. Creneis would also be fine, but Mags worried about Galene.
Cereus coughed again. Mags winced, thoughts of the rebellion forgotten as she grasped her sick husband's arm.
Cereus smiled, that tired but warm reassuring smile as she helped him remove his coat. His hands were icy and Mags was certain the tremble hadn't been so pronounced a year before.
"Cereus, please only go on mornings, or find a way to stay inside," she pleaded, her gaze hardening as it fell on the consumed tip of his cane. "You can't be outside all day by this weather."
Or any weather. It would already have been grueling for a man half his age.
"I need to be visible, Mags."
Mags' lips thinned. "You're seventy-five. You run the risk of becoming permanently invisible," she said, her throat constricting. "Any illness will turn serious, and then what do I do? Beg Snow for medicine? I let you die?" Anguish warred with the knowledge she couldn't lock him in. His mind was as sharp as it had been when they had met. In his position, she knew she would be even more unreasonable and that he would be the one telling her to slow down. "Let's see what we have in the pharmacy," she whispered.
Mags always had bought more than she had needed, aware the day would come when she would fall from the Capitol's good graces. But no medicine could compensate the lack of hospital and doctors.
The bathroom door was open, Finnick shaving inside. Mags pulled out a stool and opened the large mirrored cabinet.
"You should teach me what those do," Finnick said, his eyes raking over the boxes in their personal pharmacy.
Cereus coughed again, a loud, wheezing sound that sucked all the brightness out of the room.
"In each box there's a notice, read them," Mags said, too preoccupied to muster the patience.
A widow. Her mother had been one so young, and yet Mags wasn't sure she could handle it.
There must have been something in her expression, because Finnick excused himself, patches of beard still on half his face.
Cereus squeezed her hand, a warning light in his eyes.
"Fear destroys," he said. "Don't let it trap you, Mags. You love me, but you don't need me. Not for this. And …" he inhaled, his voice trembling. "I don't need you. To be happy, yes, but to finish what we started? No. And it's as it should be."
He coughed again, and Mags just held him tightly. You don't need me.
"I do need you," she protested, but there was no reproach, no blackmail in her tone. "The victor, the rebel, they don't need you. But take away the titles, strip the power from me..." She smiled sadly. "My life is about day to day pleasures and struggles as much as it is big projects and ideals, Cereus."
Cereus gently pushed her away and there was a rare vulnerability to his face. "Mags, I don't think I'll have the strength to say it again, so please listen," he said, his eyes burning into hers. "If we don't, both, back away now, we have to accept that our lives, us, our children, come second. We have gone too far to hold to the illusion that we'll make it unscathed. So, Mags, do we retire, or do we go on, knowing the stress may be the first thing to kill us?"
The words were blocked in Mags throat. Even hunched, he stood so proud, the man she loved, carrying the world on his shoulders as time chipped away at his strength. She imagined herself in this room, alone, Cereus a mere shadow clinging to the walls. She then imagined Cereus, alone, sharing a meal with Finnick and Lorelei, and her insides turned to stone. "And if I said we should retire?"
The white-haired woman in the mirror was soft-skinned and healthy, a myriad of thin wrinkles lining her face. Time had been harsher on Cereus but her wealth as victor had bought them both decades of youth so often denied to those born in the Districts.
"If I said we had done enough and should let the others fight on?" Mags whispered.
Cereus chuckled. "I'd be very worried about you." His features darkened. "We're the leaders, Mags. Leaders in a war that has spun over generations, a war so many are not even aware of. There is always a price to pay. Remember what Doctor Alexanders told you, after your Games?"
Mags grinned ruefully. "He apologized because I might not see eighty." But in the end, their age, the numbers, mattered little compared to the reality of waking up alone.
But he was right, and it was high time she accepted that fear. They were rebels, and there was no going back.
Mags kissed him. "Your health is precious, don't do too much."
"Don't worry, I'm going to take a nap," Cereus said, his lips twitching. "Actually I should nap every day right after work."
Mags' eyes narrowed.
"Oh because now you want me to spend time with you?" Cereus said archly, "at the peril of my health?"
Mags' snort morphed into soft laughter at his teasing. She was determined to enjoy every minute of their time together.
Year 65, Early December, Galene.
"What is this piece of shit?" Diocles snarled, throwing the hard block of tasteless cheese away.
There wasn't even any booze left.
Hunger gnawed at his stomach, but he couldn't stand the thought of more prepackaged rations. Diocles rubbed his gloves together and angrily swiped the drizzling snow off his uniform coat. He hadn't felt decently warm and dry in weeks. This place was falling to pieces, and had only seemed so good at first because tents were horrid in almost any weather. Diocles couldn't believe it had been a training center for peacekeepers before. Why couldn't the Major order the peacekeepers here and find them bunks in the actual barracks? They were Capitol citizen, damn it! He smashed his fist against the wall in frustration. It had been months! He was bored stiff and couldn't stand the thought of spending his twenty-first birthday in this hell. They'd been left to rot. No orders, and the supply trains who came just often enough they wouldn't starve.
What were they afraid of back home? That if they were given proper food they'd share it with the locals? Diocles snorted.
He'd go hunting in the wilderness if they'd let him. He couldn't believe he'd been sent in a moldy town to freeze his ass off. He'd know when he'd joined that he could leave the Capitol, that it wouldn't be comfortable, but he'd asked to be signed up for missions. He'd hoped it'd be more exciting than police work. He'd hoped to see rebels and smash some heads.
Rumors were that the locals' polite faces were all lies. That they were messing with the trains and that in every single house in Galene, men, women and children were laughing at them.
But if that was true, where were the orders? He'd kill them if it was true. His stomach grumbled again.
"Where are you going?" Aurelius called from the next room.
"To take a piss in the ocean!" Diocles snapped back.
He'd give half his pay for a juicy steak.
There was light in the local's houses. Small shitty houses, but at least they blocked the wind and had furniture. He was rich enough to buy a whole street, but he'd been forbidden to spend a penny. Diocles could almost hear his uncle laughing.
The thought sent him in a rage.
He knocked, hard and opened the door. The scent of fried fish hit him hard. He breathed in deeply. Even that fish sounded wonderful right now.
"I'm hungry," he said, his eyes raking over the family of five.
A scrawny miserable bunch. District people were so ugly. Diocles couldn't believe they were the same species.
The man stood up and gestured to his plate. Diocles' face fell and his mouth curled into a faint snarl. Half a miserable fish, and some excuse for potatoes. These people called that a meal? For a grown man?
The wife did the same when she caught his expression, her eyes wide, like she expected him to kill her man and rape her. Diocles glanced at the daughter, no, even were he of that sort, no. Stick-figury, bland, had they ever heard of make-up?
He was scraping the fish's bones when three of them showed up. Deserters. Dodgy people, going on about peace and loyalty to the Capitol and their victor, Mags. Diocles paid attention to the Games like the next man, and he found it hard, to imagine old Mags as someone mighty. Sure, she had a voice on TV, but why did that mean anything to soldiers?
"We've got no food," Diocles said, pausing between two bites. "Just stinky rations."
"We've got no food coming in from the mainland either and as you've seen, people aren't stuffing themselves, Sir," the peacekeeper said with a glower.
The older man calling him Sir had Diocles put his fork down, wipe his mouth and stand up. He didn't feel threatened, and that pissed him off. At least had they threatened him, had they wanted war, he'd have known what to do.
"Well bring us fish from the sea then, and we'll all eat loads of fish."
Stinky, meager fish. He'd have scales by the time the winter was over.
"Galene isn't a fishing town, Sir," the man replied. "It's not that we don't want to."
"Make it into one. We're hungry," Diocles replied with a growl. He looked around, taking in the youngest boy's wide-eyed stare.
Panic at being stared at had the kid stand up and push his half-eaten plate in front of Diocles, his skinny arms trembling as he did.
Diocles sneered, something twisting in his gut. "I'm not eating your food, boy." He wasn't that hungry.
He suddenly hated how they looked at him, or how they were afraid to look. They'd given him their food like that, not a word. What kind of man did they thing he was? He took a few coins out of his pockets.
"Should pay for the fish. There's nothing to buy, but eventually there'll be something," he mumbled.
"Who's been saying that we're out to gut them?" Diocles snarled at the deserters once he'd slammed the door shut.
"No one. With all due respect, Sir, if you did gut one, who'd arrest you?" The same middle-aged man said. "They can't afford to say no. Nothing protects them. They're afraid and they know that the moment you have orders, it won't matter that they respected the law all their lives."
"We won't –"
We won't have orders if they respected the law, was what Diocles wanted to say. Except he wasn't sure anymore.
And he still was hungry. He wanted cake. He'd never find a bloody cake here.
"You really trained over there?" Diocles asked, pointing at the shell of a building the hundred and fifty Homeguard lived in.
The man straightened proudly. "Ninety rankers and ten officers came out of this place every year. Mags had it built. It was a great place, she came there often."
Diocles rolled his eyes. Mags, Mags, Mags, you'd think she'd breastfed every one of them.
Aurelius called him out when he got back. "You stink of fish." He stood up, shaking his head incredulously. "You went to get yourself fish," he exclaimed, loud enough to get half the garrison's attention. "Admit it!"
Looking into his comrades eyes, Diocles could see they were all hungry.
"Get them out of those algae farms and the factory and out fishing," he said. "Or we'll look worse than them when the winter's over."
"They've probably got tons of fish hidden everywhere," Aurelius muttered, his expression mutinous.
"I doubt it," Diocles said bitterly before telling them about his little outing.
Aurelius guffawed. "He just stepped aside and gave you his food, his woman's food, like a little bitch?"
"Who'd stop me if I wanted to kill him or play with his daughter?" Diocles said. Nobody would ever call him soft, but this, this subservience, it was disgusting. "We're Capitol, they're District. His daughter is of reaping age for that matter…"
"There are Careers to volunteer," Faustina said.
"That's not the point," Diocles snapped. "Why are we even here? What are we waiting for? Are they going to install a TV so we can watch the Victory Tour or will we have to cuddle with the locals to get a peek?"
When Major Maximinus heard the grumblings, he knew he had to act before he lost all control over his men. He hoped help would come from the Capitol, and fast.
Year 65, Mid-December, Galene.
"Haul," Shad said, triumph in his tone. It was heavy. Heavy with life.
The boat lurched as they tugged on the net, soaking them all with icy water.
"Too many fish," his sister shouted over the wind. "Shad, do we cut the net loose?"
Shad shook his head violently when she pulled out the knife, wiping salt-water out of his eyes.
"No!" Shad said forcefully. They couldn't go back empty handed.
The old net groaned and the four fishermen could only watch horrified as the ropes slowly snapped, thread after thread, freeing thousands of fish into the stormy waters.
For the first time since he'd buried his mother, Shad wept.
They weren't real fishermen. Galene had no real fishermen. They were going to starve.
Year 65, Mid-December, Creneis Town.
Finnick came in beaming. Mags grinned at seeing him so cheerful.
"Why is Anytos so nice?" Finnick said. "Why didn't Snow pick someone evil to watch over us?"
"Snow didn't become President of Panem to pick out which Homeguard Sergeant would go on a mission," Mags said scornfully. "It's much beneath him."
And victors would have been too, had he not been so obsessed by them.
Finnick laughed. "Well, Anytos is escorting me to my parents'. It's not FLASH, but at least I'm getting out. Who knows, maybe I'll even be able to invite the guys and Marina one of these days."
Mags waved cheerfully as he ran off. How she envied him right now. The town was becoming a remote place she only saw from her windows.
Had the ships reached Galene yet? When she stared into the ocean, picturing the dark hostile waters surrounding Four's smallest town, images of fear and misery filled her mind. Galene couldn't be left to starve.
When he came back fom his parents', Finnick was very silent, his face a pale expressionless mask.
Despite her concern, Mags let him go to his room without asking. What could Tyna and Angelo possibly have done? Mags went up when it was time for dinner. She froze behind the door when she realized he was crying. Finnick cried so rarely, and not long, never so long.
Mags' heart clenched, a jolt of fear stiffening her spine. She slowly went in.
Finnick was seated on the bed, great sobs wracking his chest. His hands were raw, he'd been making knots with a piece of rope. Mags' eyes tightened. That's what Shale had taught him, but why? She'd never seen Finnick turn to ropes to calm himself before.
She sat close to him, a hand on his shoulder, but didn't come closer after he pushed her away the first time. She forced a soft smile on her face, but she desperately wished she could take away his pain. It was long minutes before he managed to stop.
"It's stupid, I'm happy. It's shock. I just –" He placed his head on his knees, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "I –"
He turned green eyes filled with tears on Mags. "Mama's pregnant."
Mags' eyebrows shot up. A surprised smile bloomed on her lips, but the smile soon froze, awkward and painful. Because Tyna and Angelo had only ever wanted one child.
"It's nothing to cry about. I'm happy, I am," Finnick repeated. "I always wanted a sibling," he said with a shaky smile.
Angelo and Tyna were replacing him.
"I hope it's a girl," Mags said softly, her hand on Finnick's cheek. "Or she'll never live up to it. And I promise Finn, I won't invite her to come to FLASH, ever."
Strangled laughter escaped Finnick's lips. He clung onto her, and Mags prayed nothing would happen to her before Finnick was strong enough to brave life by himself.
"I am happy," he whispered for the tenth time. "I'll have a sibling."
Year 65, December, Galene.
"We'll take three ton a week, you can keep the rest."
Did that greedy bastard think he was doing them a service? Cobia wondered in disbelief.
They had over five thousand mouths to feed. Half a ton was quite enough to get the peacekeepers and those fat Homeguard fed. Cobia understood they wanted to salt some of the fish and hoard, but it was too much. Even if they bled the black market dry and ate all the stored supplies, Galene needed at the very least three ton of fresh fish a week to survive until the end of winter, and they'd barely fished five ton in total. And already men had drowned, taken by the treacherous seas.
"There's not enough left, we'll starve," Cobia said. He wouldn't back down, not if they killed him. They were about to kill them all. "And even your three tons, it needs to be purified, you need to send it to Lycorias or Creneis. You're not used to eating untreated fish, you'll get ill."
"We had agreed on three tons. We let you leave the sand mines and glass factory to build ships, nets and get fish, and whatever edible thing you could find out there."
Cobia ground his teeth. Former FLASH graduates had been the closest thing to specialists in net-making and ship building they'd had, but they weren't a fishing town, they'd had no idea how much fish was actually in those seas, and those stubborn Homeguard had to understand that.
"Sir, the waters are poor. Already we are not wealthy, you must have noticed that people don't grow fat here." Despair gripped Cobia. What was he going to tell his children? "It's winter, we'll die, massively. If it's the intent of the Capitol, tell us," he added, anger flushing his cheeks. "We'll spare our children the suffering of a horrible lingering death."
"Don't be dramatic," the man said stiffly.
"My wife is breastfeeding," Cobia snarled. "I swear I'll bring you the baby's body when she stops lactating."
The Homeguard's stony mask cracked for a second. Cobia hoped he'd reconsider the order, but the bastard just remained silent.
"Do you want to come in my home to see?" Cobia said, his voice shaking in rage. "I am not a poor man in Galene." He was counted among the wealthy, he was a glassblower, like his father and his grandfather before him. His kind weren't supposed to starve.
Cobia turned around and left, hate boiling in his veins. He'd get the fish back. If those bastards hoarded the food they needed to survive, he'd get the fish back or die trying.
What was he going to tell his children?
Year 65, Late December, District Four.
Nutria ran, seeking the shadows even in the night. It was wilderness all around, but her mind put roads where there were none. Roads to all the villages, roads to every contact.
She pulled her black scarf tighter around her youthful face. She couldn't remember how she'd become a ghost. It wasn't like she'd been going to school one day and hiding honey jars in her coat the next. The black market wasn't something you joined, you slipped in until you were neck deep and couldn't imagine a life outside it.
Nutria didn't feel trapped. She had a choice, multiple ones. Growing up, she'd fantasized about being a healer and ghosts came close enough. Ghosts saved lives, especially in these troubled times.
She ran. This shipment was special. She couldn't be caught, not today.
They asked for someone with a strong stomach. That's why I picked you, he'd said.
Nutria had simply nodded. She was an orphan of the spring 57 plague, born in a village so depleted the survivors had fled. Now her old home was just a name on maps. She had seen dead bodies and desperate people. She had survived. Now she ran.
She shivered when she saw the glint in the moonlight. Railroads, a place she stayed quite clear of in normal times. Her contact would be there, he'd said.
Nutria suspected he was from FLASH. Many of those who knew were. She was just a ghost, they could capture her without harming the whole.
But not today.
Nutria stopped when she saw people waiting. Haggard and painfully thin, with factory-worker coats. Nutria blinked, people from Galene, half a score at least.
Six become five but the watchers don't count. That's what he'd told her.
Now Nutria understood the code: teams of six had gone out fishing, and in some boats, only five had come home and no one had been the wiser. There weren't enough Homeguard for the whole coast, not nearly enough. Panem was empty and wild, full of ruins and old roads. Nutria had realized that on her first foray in the wilderness. Every man, woman and child of Four could have fit in a small piece of those dead cities.
And it would take tens of thousands of peacekeepers to guard it all. Nutria smiled. That's what made her job so easy, the moment she was out of towns. They said there were man-eating beasts in the thick forests of the North, but in Four, ghosts were pretty safe as long as they stuck to the roads.
Nutria took the package from her overlarge coat and removed the camera reverently. There were already records on it. For an instant, she wished she had been more curious, and watched what they held.
She began filming, wishing he'd told her what to expect and knowing full well why he hadn't.
The people were doing something to the rails. Nutria didn't need much imagination to know what. She stared, her heart hammering loudly in her chest. It was like the stories, the Dark Days.
Maybe the whispers were right, and the Dark Days were back upon them.
Her hands shook when the train crashed, but she didn't scream, and she didn't stop the camera.
The train had not come alone, there was a hovercraft above. There was always a hovercraft these days, guarding. Nutria's lips trembled as the men and women fell one after the other. It wasn't the hovercrafts shots. In the dark, it looked like a syringe they'd stabbed in their wrists.
The hovercraft landed and Nutria remained very still, her eyes darting left and right. Cold sudden fear rooted her in place. She had no escape. She took a slow breath, her fingers wrapping around her weapon. He'd not sacrifice her like that. Not for nothing. That Nutria was sure of. Her contact had to be there.
One of the men was carrying binoculars of some kind and he went straight to her, as if she'd been in broad daylight. Nutria held her breath, ready to shoot. It was just a tranquilizer. Not deadly, but silent enough to give her a head start. But if they got close, Nutria wouldn't let them capture her alive.
Ghosts never betrayed their secrets.
"I serve," the man said, the cold wind bringing his words to her. "The swan has been caged."
Nutria blinked. She let him get closer. How could a Capitolite know the code phrases?
"The camera. Then wait here until we've lifted off and gone."
Nutria wordlessly gave them man the camera. He slipped it in his pocket.
"Coast clear, nothing on the heat detectors. We've got them all," the Capitol man announced in his talkie-walkie.
She blinked again, a smile forming on her lips. She wondered how he had slipped into the black market.
Year 65, Late December, Galene.
The pitiful amount of fish slid into the buckets, thrashing as they gasped through their last minutes. Shad hatefully threw the net again. Empty, always empty! They wouldn't even reach five ton this week. He coughed, cursing the cold with all his might.
They were further out than usual, but Shad would drown in the deep seas before he'd come home empty handed once more. His whole body shuddered from exhaustion, but if he stopped, they would all die.
"Ship in sight!" his sister called, her voice stressing her disbelief.
Shad's head snapped up. He stared. "Yeah, I see it too," he said in wonder.
A deep sea vessel, tall and sleek, so much nobler than the crafts they'd put together. It was anchored and Shad suddenly knew they were supposed to go onboard.
"Who are you?" Shad asked as soon as the crew had helped him up. He giddily looked around, his ears ringing from the noise of the sails flapping in the wind. Every ship he'd been on was a toy compared to this.
"Just call me Captain," the man said. He was youthful, and yet already very grave. "How many dead?"
Shad bit back a sob. "We've passed a hundred, fishermen, the elderly, the children… There's been hangings, people trying their luck breaking into the peacekeeper's supplies." Abandoned, they'd been abandoned by all of Four. Their peacekeepers, those the Capitol dogs called deserters, were felling trees, building ships and fishing, and every minute Shad was out he was afraid, because with so many of the men and strong women gone during the day to find food, the town was at the mercy of the guards. Things happened then, Shad knew it, people didn't talk, but things happened. "Are you from Creneis, Captain?"
Shad could smell it, fish, nets, wonderful solid nets cracking full of wriggling fish. He didn't dare believe it yet. Maybe, maybe they were saved.
The man nodded.
Shad laughed. A part of him would have preferred soldiers and weapons but he was a practical man. Food first, and maybe it was smart, not to let them decide how to handle the Capitol. "Bless you."
"Do you have medicine, against fish poisoning?"
Shad frowned. "I do, yes. I guess everyone has." His frown deepened. "It's too cold for the fish to go bad. What poisoning are we talking about?"
"It's not too cold if you're patient," the Captain said. It was obvious he wouldn't elaborate. "When the Capitol doesn't call the men home, give them medicine."
Shad frowned. "What stops the Capitol from getting the men to a hospital and bring new ones?"
"Because the railways blew up," the Captain said with a tight smile. "And while sending medicine by hovercraft can be done, it's much too costly to bring the men back that way. Also, the weather will keep communications cut, and Hovercrafts down, for a solid week. We were waiting for the storm."
"A storm?" Shad cried. "The ships will be grounded!" The panic returning. Ships grounded, no fish. If their peacekeepers left, would the Homeguard allow them to get more food? But how? By hunting in the wilderness? What could there be there, at this time of the year? What did they even know of hunting?
"We also brough honey, canned fruit and blankets. Twenty thousand jars and cans, have fishing boats rotate now that you have our location, you'll smuggle them in."
Shad beamed. That sounded wonderful. His teeth chattered painfully from the cold. "We'll get caught, it just takes one to get caught."
"Warn Santiago of my presence," the Captain said. "We have instructions for him. The peacekeepers and the Homeguard will also get some of the cans."
Shad nodded. Santiago was another of those FLASH people. He desperately hoped they knew what they were doing.
Year 66, Early January, Galene.
He was dying. Dying like an animal. His whole skin itched, Diocles hadn't taken a meal he hadn't vomited in days. They'd switched to the salted fish as soon as they'd realized something had to be wrong, but the salt almost made it worse. He couldn't stand fish anymore. They'd gotten some bread and canned fruit from the people's stores, but it wasn't enough, and Diocles felt sick that they were literally starving people for a piece of hard bread they wouldn't keep down anyway.
The trains had stopped coming completely. The worse was, Diocles didn't blame them for blowing up the train. He saw them, day after day, the baskets for the dead. And he, he and the others did nothing. Some guards did worse than nothing, Diocles wasn't blind. Everyone was going crazy from the cold, misery and fish, and some people's crazy was vile. Orders were to stay until the deserters surrendered. Those bastards wouldn't hear of it. They even had the gall to say that Galene had had a much worse death toll before Mags had won.
Diocles didn't understand them. The people were dying, and they were almost okay with that.
He almost whimpered, forcing himself seated when he saw a deserter enter. They could kill him and Diocles would just be able to scream pathetically.
"Take this," the man said.
Diocles' lips twisted. "What's that?"
"Cure. You're not used to eating so much fish. Antihistamine medication and something to stop the vomiting. You need to drink also, you're dehydrated. "
No shit. "Why you doing this?"
"Giving you medicine instead of taking advantage of the fact the whole Homeguard garrison is down to kill you all? Or just to let you suffer and maybe die two or three days more until the Capitol figures out what's happening and sends medicine? Not take revenge because we're starving while you're stockpiling food?"
Diocles would have punched the man if he hadn't been so weak.
"Because we're civilized," the deserter said with a wan smile. "Go home, and give us Mags back."
What hid behind that word? Diocles needed to understand. Their kids, their starving kids, in baskets, because of Mags. He just didn't get it.
Year 66, mid-January, Creneis.
Mags felt miserable. She blew her reddened nose again, resigning herself that it was that part of the year and that it was better now than in a week's time. The "common cold" they called it but not even the Capitol had a cure.
She groaned when the doorbell rang.
It was Sergeant Anytos, and he looked guilty.
Mags inwardly cursed. "What are your orders now?"
"You're sick, very sick. I will take pictures of you sick and with your escort Donna because you called her to tell her how ill you were."
Mags blanched. She suddenly needed to sit down. Sick? She was too pretend she was too ill to -
It crashed around her. She'd never even considered it a possibility, but - She wouldn't be going on the Victory Tour. That was Snow's next move. Use her health as an excuse to silence her further.
"Who's he sending on the Tour?" She said hoarsely.
"Victor Eirene," Anytos replied.
Mags shut her eyes, rage and despair burning through her. Nori would have been fine, Chelsea and Gilly would have managed. But while Eirene would be quite adequate in the Districts, the moment she entered the Capitol, Mags couldn't guarantee she wouldn't panic. Not after what had happened four years before. If Snow thought to sell her –
And Eirene wouldn't be able to care both for herself and for Finnick.
"Donna is here, Sir?" Mags said with a fake smile.
Her expression had to be fearsome because Sergeant Anytos recoiled. "Err, yes. I'll let her in."
"What's with glass production?" Donna said after planting a noisy kiss on each of Mags' cheeks. "Is there a huge pile of sand and glass waiting to be shipped to the Capitol? I heard they also use it on the soil in Eleven for some fruit."
"Sand mining and glass production stopped the moment all of Galene had to go fish to survive," Mags said mechanically, still recoiling from Anytos' news.
It was nice though, to see Donna. Mags managed a small smile.
"Right no fish," Donna said looking annoyed. She huffed. "Protesters in the Capitol have started throwing stones at government buildings and some houses. Also some teens with too much time on their hands have started throwing rocks for the fun. Lots of broken windows and apparently, and…" Donna said dramatically, "there's no more glass."
Mags had to appreciate Glynn's and Plutarch's ability to exploit every little thing. Making glass shortage an issue was quite a feat.
"Protesters in the Capitol?" Anytos said, his eyes narrowing.
Donna smiled tensely. "Long story short, some people are losing money, lots of it, because the banks were liars and Four, who was rich, is collapsing. You haven't been receiving letters from home I gather."
"It's not uncommon on missions," Anytos said in guarded tones.
"And how long are missions commonly?" Donna inquired. "Do you know why you haven't been rotated yet? Why instead of weary poor Homeguards they don't send fresh new Homeguards with heads full of pretty speeches on how to handle the situation?"
Mags winced. Donna was much too obvious. Hopefully Sergeant Anytos was too straightforward to see more than an outspoken woman who was confused by the situation.
The Sergeant's face grew stony. "Because we'd feed the unrest back home with our tales, I suppose."
"Don't they debrief you at your return and tell you what the official story is?" Mags said.
The pink tinge on Anytos' cheeks told Mags that yes, it was standard procedure.
"There are hundreds of Homeguards directly in contact with Four's citizen," Anytos said carefully. "I don't think that's ever happened before. It's going to be much harder to have people stick to an official version, especially if people back home are getting worked up."
Donna laughed. "Oh, Mags, you haven't seen the videos. Want to see the videos that have been going around? They made me so furious."
"I need to take pictures of you, Mags," Anytos reminded her, looking mortified.
Mags grinned at him, because he was such a strapping lad, but in the end, they were all embarrassed by the same things. "Want to watch videos in between shots of me agonizing from a common cold?"
She managed to keep the edge out of her tone. No Victory Tour for her. She'd meant to go with Cereus, to see Valerian one last time. She swallowed, rage threatening to consume her. No. She'd find a way. But how? She was trapped. Completely trapped.
She stared hungrily at the television, eager to see what their allies in the Capitol had been up to.
The first video did such a great job at showing what a cock Snow was that Mags almost, almost, forgot her anger. Where had they found that Homeguard? She wondered if the voice had been altered or if the man had committed suicide soon after. Or if it was just a man disguised as a Homeguard, but then any fraud would have made the video lose impact. How had they had found Esperanza's murderer?
No, Snow was the murderer, that peacekeeper had just been his weapon. Mags took a deep breath, uselessly trying to fill the void her little sister's absence had left in her chest.
The second video… Mags had tears in her eyes. Galene, she had known, the cold, impersonal knowledge, that the town wouldn't be able to support itself, but seeing those people, starving, building boats out of scratch, and dying...
We can't work, you won't have sand or glass anymore, but it's not defiance. We can't work. It was sprayed over the glass factory's walls.
And it was obvious they couldn't. The Capitol-sanctioned peacekeepers had worked alongside the deserters to build the ships –and miserable little boats they were- united by the fear of starvation.
She saw snapshots of what was happening, when the people were out fishing. Bullying, and sometimes worse. Not worse than it had been, after the war, not nearly, but that had been generations past, and few citizens of Four remembered such cruelty.
Mags saw the train derail, her heart hammering painfully. That was one image Snow could use to his advantage. She was afraid now, because to make the saboteurs sympathetic, even if it had only been a merchandise train and the driver was alive, something horrible had to have happened.
The video brought them to Galene. Straight in the old peacekeeper academy turned into a camp for the Homeguard. It broke Mags' heart to see that hallmark of Four's hardly won power in ruins.
"My name is Diocles." It was a thick-necked blonde Capitolite. Younger than twenty-five, definitely. "You'll find me easily. I'm not here to hide. I was dying. The last haul of fish was bad. We were all crouching with our pants down to our ankles. Had the deserters wanted to kill us, we'd all be dead. Communications was cut, some men had very severe allergic reactions. I really thought we'd die. But they had medicine, those starving people. We didn't even think to ask and they brought us medicine. They could have killed us, some of us did things that would get you prison for life back home but they healed us." He chuckled dryly. "Because we're civilized, they said."
"I know the guys who blew the train up," Diocles added, staring at his hands. "Never talked to them, I don't mingle with locals, but I know because we keep a list of the dead. Cobia Gaffer, father of -"
Mags shut her eyes when he started giving names of the men and women, the ages of the children, infants that had starved to death. The list overlapped with others. One thousand avoxes blown up at the end of her Games, one thousand five hundred tributes brutally murdered so far from home, and year after year, the people ruined by a life of effort before they turned fifty, the disabled children abandoned at birth.
"Yeah, we should at least have brought them food," another Homeguard said when Diocles had finished and the camera zoomed back, to show dozens of Homeguards, all still ill from the Scombroid poisoning, but who were staring intently at the camera.
Mags was ashamed. It had been such a good plan, sending Captain Morgan with his nets full of bad fish and contraband supplies just before the storm. But now she realized viscerally that she had asked the people of Galene to give medicine and food to the people responsible for the death of their children.
And they had done it. These incredible people had done it.
"When the Districts heard Capitol they thought of wealth and fashion and entertainment and power, now when they hear the word 'Capitol' in Galene, they think of those images you saw," Diocles whispered. "This isn't what I want to stand for. I don't understand their obsession with Mags, but she brought peace and wealth and we just brought death and crime."
The inscription on Galene's barracks' walls brought tears to Mags eyes.
Give us Mags back! We worked for the Capitol with pride. Did the Capitol we could look up to and admire die with Esperanza?
She recognized the angled sprayed writing, that beautiful calligraphy. Santiago, another one of hers, another Stormborn. Mags would never be able to tell them, how proud she was of all of them.
"You have a very large support group," Donna said, looking shaken but alright. She'd probably seen that video eight times already.
"Excuse me," Anytos said, pale as snow.
"You know where the bathroom is," Mags said softly. It reassured her, that the man would be revolted. She was glad to see it mirrored in his eyes. How wrong it all was.
Snow had wanted her to play by his rules. He'd thought they'd take arms, the fool.
She sobbed silently, bringing her crumpled tissue up to her runny nose. How many had died in Galene?
If she'd accepted, if she'd just retired, would it really have been worse? She pressed her fist against her mouth. Not in the short term. It would have been admitting defeat, drawing a line on the rebellion to come, but in the short term -
"Hey," Donna said softly, wrapping an arm around her shoulder.
"Oh shut up," Mags muttered, blinking the tears away. "Wouldn't you be worried if I took it all with a smile?"
"I'd be terrified," Donna said, compassion lighting her face, "but still, hey," she said softly, rubbing Mags' arm comfortingly.
Year 66, mid-January, Creneis Town.
"No," Eirene said. "I can't go, I will not go!" She cried.
"There are drugs, Eirene," Mags began, at a loss of what to say. She wouldn't convince Eirene, trauma didn't work that way. You didn't tell a rape victim to get over herself and pretend to be happy around her assailants.
"Would you want to go instead of me?"
Mags grasped the young woman's hands. "Eirene, of course I'd rather go than make you –"
"Mags, stop being a mentor for one minute," Eirene snapped, raising her voice. "I'm past mentoring, treat me like an adult. We've been colleagues for years. For one minute, treat me like a friend. Is this duty to Finnick, all part of a big plan, or do you actually want to go?"
Mags stiffened at been shouted at before briefly pondering the question. "Well, I want to see an old friend in One, and I'd be happy to see most of the victors. I've been stuck here half a year, it'd be nice to get some air." Mags lowered her gaze. "And there's Finnick and big plans," she whispered, her voice hoarse.
Could Eirene have a solution that Mags had overlooked? There had to be a way.
Eirene grabbed a plate and threw it with a cry of rage. It smashed against the wall, raining porcelain chips all over the floor "Leave me alone."
Mags didn't move. She wondered if it was something she had said, or just general anger at the situation. With Eirene, she didn't dare leave.
"I won't hurt myself," Eirene said, forcing her voice down. "I swear, Mags. Just give me some space."
Mags allowed herself to believe it. Eirene almost had a normal relationship to food now, almost.
"I'll check on you," Mags said.
Eirene laughed mirthlessly. "You always do."
Year 66, January, Creneis Town.
Gilly was cradling her shy little cat, Eirene, while she talked to the younger victor. They'd won barely five years apart. They were like sisters. Gilly's voice was hoarse from arguing.
"Mags won't react well. She'll feel horrible." Gilly couldn't even muster anger anymore.
"She'll get over it, Gilly," Eirene replied coldly. "Will you do it?"
What about her though? Gilly wasn't so sure she'd get over it but one look at Eirene told her it was useless to protest.
"Of course," Gilly said, tears misting up her eyes. "There's no stopping you, and better make it useful. But please, write it down. For Mags, and for Nori and poor Finn." He'd see that. He'd be there and he'd be helpless to do anything. "I'll wait for Finn's return from the Capitol to tell her."
Year 66, January, Creneis Town.
"Is that normal, to have to go to the Capitol before the Tour?" Finnick said, his voice low and subdued.
Mags' hate for Snow spiked with every instant her nephew looked miserable.
"What's uncommon is waiting so long after the Games to get attention again, Finn. Usually new victors get interviewed, there are talent shows… Snow really should have kept those going, to keep an illusion of normal." Mags' lips twitched mirthlessly. "It doesn't help that you made an unforgettable impression on the Capitol."
"I'm worried about Eirene," Finnick said. "I'm going to sound horrible, Mags, but there's something I don't understand," he said, guilt obvious in his eyes.
"Yes?" Mags said, putting a comforting hand on his arm. He was growing so tall.
"In the other Districts, every young victor goes to the Capitol all the time. There aren't enough victors to give them any choice in the matter. And they manage, don't they? So Eirene…" Finnick's voice trailed off.
Mags swallowed. She hesitated for a second, because Finnick was just fifteen and there were things children should be protected from. But Finnick couldn't be a child anymore.
"Eirene isn't broken," Mags said tightly. "She still has a sense of self-worth. She still believes in some form of justice, in being in control of her life. Those who are broken sometimes look superficially more functional because they are more obedient. They stop caring."
Fury seemed to rob Finnick's ability to speak. "He can't make her go," he finally spluttered. "He can't, Mags! You have to do something."
"When will you be going?" Mags desperately wished she could be the woman Finnick thought her to be. But she wasn't invincible and hardly all powerful. She was trapped and handcuffed in Victors' Village and she couldn't see a way out.
"In a week."
A shiver ran up Mags' spine. She couldn't stop Eirene from going in the Capitol. Only Capitolites could sway Snow and Mags knew that Snow wasn't stupid enough announce Finnick and Eirene's arrival until they were safely in the train.
"Doesn't Donna know?" Finnick pointed out, his pained eyes shining with brittle hope. "She helped with the pictures."
"I ordered her not to say a word, Finn," Mags admitted, her mouth dry. "Snow made sure she was one of the very few who knew. He's testing her because she's close to me. She must seem loyal. At least loyal enough for it not to be worth the hassle of removing her."
Finnick's eyes began to shimmer with tears.
Year 66, late January, four days before the beginning of the Victory Tour.
Eirene was silent. It was like travelling with a statue.
Finnick tried to cheer her up and so did Donna. And she was fun, they ended up laughing together, except Eirene, Eirene remained silent.
A rock blocked Finnick's throat every time his eyes landed on her. There was something wrong with that silence. It wasn't just fear, or anger, or anything Finnick recognized. He knew Mags would know immediately, but him, he had no idea what was going on in Eirene's head.
"What's the winter fashion?" Finnick asked as they passed the Capitol's gates.
Smile for sponsors. You're a Four, be cheerful.
It had been a long time since he'd heard Delfina's voice in his head. He turned, almost expecting her to appear. She'd been there, the last time. Past and present mixed in his mind, flashes of costumes, of smiles and frowns. He regulated his breathing, forcing a smile for sponsors.
The Games are over. I don't need sponsors anymore.
Delfina's voice scolded him. The Hunger Games start now, and they are never over in the Capitol.
"Self-warming togas," Donna said with a smile, dragging him back to reality. "We decided to return to our Roman roots."
Finn forced his smile to seem genuine, his hands not to shake. He had to avoid the drugs, he had to be strong enough this time. "What about your Roman roots?" He asked cheekily. "Are red leather dresses Roman?"
"I hate shopping," Donna said with a long suffering eyeroll. "And red leather dresses are hot," she said, placing a hand on her hips and winking at him.
Finnick grinned. He wondered if he'd dare ask her, to teach him to flirt with older women.
His grin withered and died when he saw Eirene's cold blank expression. She was scaring the wits out of him. Was this normal for her?
Eirene clung to him when they stepped off the train. The crowd's screams and shouts surrounded them like a storm of cawing crows, their words' meanings lost amidst the chaos.
An army of journalists barred their path, brandishing they microphones like spears. Finnick gulped, forcing a large smile.
"Finnick, we missed you so much!" A tall woman wearing leaves in her elaborate hair cried over the din. "Not even a peak in your new life. How is it, being a victor?"
"Victor's Village is a great place. I do miss seeing people my age. Worse, I missed you," Finnick said, slipping back into his tribute persona with an effortlessness that surprised him.
So this was what it would be like? Pretending all was fine?
"We missed you too, desperately!" The woman gushed. "We can't wait to see your face again on the runways. We'll be there, I promise," she said with a delighted wink.
Donna lead Finnick and Eirene into a taxi before they could be mobbed. "We'll be going to the hotel, you can prepare for tonight's and tomorrow's festivities before the Tour," Donna explained. "It won't be very open events, those will be after the Tour. More like a catching up on interviews and shootings that you missed in the last months."
"It sounds wonderful," Eirene said with a little smile.
"Eirene," Finnick began, fumbling to open his coat in the overheated taxi.
"I'm fine, Finn, I'm a grown woman of twenty-six, I can handle myself." She unexpectedly planted a kiss on his forehead. "Six years working at FLASH, can you believe it? Training Careers, it was quite an adventure. All these kids, looking up to me," she whispered, her smile growing. But it wasn't reaching her eyes. "I did good."
Finnick shared a glance with Donna, who looked as unnerved as he was.
"Sure you did, both Shale and Delfina spoke very well of you," Finnick said, his smile brittle.
To be back here… Without Mags, without Delfina. It made no sense. And he missed her, he had almost forgotten how much he missed her. He'd almost forgotten, the anger. Two victors, of the same district even, what would it have cost them?
A dark-skinned journalist in white drapes open shoes greeted them at the reception of the luxurious hotel. "We expected Mags."
"We're on live," Donna whispered to Finnick. "It's tradition."
Finnick squared his shoulders, finding the man's entitled tone offensive, but then he froze.
Snow doesn't pick Sergeants, it's beneath him. Finnick suddenly wondered if picking journalists was too. A loyalist journalist would have just pretended all was fine, like the previous one had. Live? That meant no mistakes allowed.
"I would not presume to know the President's mind or question his orders," Eirene replied, her voice self-assured despite her stiffness.
"Is it true that is too ill to come? Why hasn't she been transferred to one of our hospitals then?"
Eirene sniffed. "Why must Mags be here? Don't you like me?"
"Mags was Finnick's mentor. The Victory Tour always had the mentor accompany the new victor. Lots of people were anticipating this. There are so many questions we want to ask Mags about what's happening in Four. Finnick, what can you tell us?"
"I haven't been out of Victor's Village in months. I barely know what's happening in Creneis," Finnick said carefully. "The rest of Four? I don't know. We don't have contact." He mustered his best innocent smile. "I'm sure the Homeguard are keeping it all stable."
The journalist frowned. "Is it true that Esperanza, Mags' sister was murdered on Snow's orders? Is there really a blocade in Four?"
"Esperanza died three days after I won the Games," Finnick said carefully. "I'm a victor. I don't do politics."
What had happened that it was allowed to ask such questions live in the Capitol? Mags had mentioned videos. Finnick was now desperate to see them.
"Politics is about opinions. We're asking for facts." The man did look angry.
Donna snorted. "Stop this line of questioning right now. Do you have a permit from the President?"
Finnick frowned when he saw Eirene leave for the restaurant room next to the reception. He touched Donna's wrist, frowning.
"Eirene, no!" Donna shouted, suddenly rushing towards her.
Finnick watched slack-jawed Donna break into a run, shoving a clueless journalist out of the way.
He remained frozen as Eirene swiftly slid a knife in her own heart with one single determined thrust.
His muscles unlocked when she fell. A man's shout of horror pierced through the air. Finnick rushed to Eirene and Donna. They called for medics, but Eirene knew her anatomy. She was dead in less than a minute.
Her dress soaked in blood, Donna looked so confused, so horrified, that Finnick immediately dismissed the suspicion this had all been a sick plan. The two journalists who weren't screaming or panicking were standing back, filming, and Finnick wanted to smash their cameras against the wall. Had they no decency? His breathing ragged, he frantically looked for a note, anything.
Paige from Three, Nero, Pashmina, the unconscious boy from Nine, Cardinal from Six, Fora and Colt from Ten, and Shani, wo just wanted to be a teacher, all the people whose blood he had spilt, whose lives he had ended. Eirene's crimson blood was acid on his skin, conjuring images of fire and death. Finnick couldn't look away.
How could he not have seen this?
He found it, a plasticized note and stared at it horrified.
A rough hand grabbed his shoulder, he jumped away. Reporters swarmed around him with live cameras.
"What does it say?"
"She can't handle being back here, after what happened to her last time," Finnick hastily replied, his eyes wide and fearful.
"Give it here." The dark-skinned Capitolite hungrily snatched it away.
They couldn't resist, could they?
"Don't read it," Finnick hissed, but he was restrained. He struggled a bit for show. Those bastards were walking straight into it. Eirene had made this for them to find. Were they that stupid?
How could you, Eirene? He felt ill. Was that loyalty? Had Eirene done that more for Mags, or for herself? Would there be a real note, one for them? One which would explain? Finnick couldn't stop the tears when they came. Donna snatched him away, out of sight of the live cams, her face ashen, wet with tears of her own.
Would people around him stop dying? He thought of his Ma, of the little brother or sister he'd soon have. Even if he knew he'd love the baby to pieces, it made him feel worse.
The journalist began to read. "Mags wanted to come, I was made to come instead. Could you see her abandoning Finnick? She's still strong, no matter what they tell you. Last time I was legally raped as if I was lower than the lowest whore. Mags never retired. You made her. After fifty years of loyal services, she simply asked that you treat her nephew, a boy of fourteen, like a human being, and you treated her as if she was a filthy rebel for it. She still loves Panem. I won't betray Mags but I know that if I live, I will be made to."
"Alypius is either a complete idiot, or with us, but fanatical then, because that man is dead," Donna whispered in Finnick's ears, her eyes on the dark-skinned journalist. "Unless, I underestimate how upset the population is upset with Snow." She bit her lip. "Maybe I do."
Finnick was brought to the hospital, cleaned, searched, tested, for what he didn't know. He was in shock, he realized absently.
Eirene, what the hell?
Why was the only way to make a powerful statement to die? Would she be alive had the cameras not been live?
He barely reacted when Snow came in with five huge Homeguard. Finnick blinked at the man. His mind not clearing. He belatedly noticed he was completely alone with them. Had the hospital been emptied?
"Did you know, Finnick Odair?"
Finnick shook his head, his eyes on the floor, his breathing still ragged. He was given something by one of the Homeguard, warmth trickled down his throat, filling him up, and soon, he was better. Just enough to think.
He stood up, fear pushing him off the bed. "Mr. President," he croaked, a rock the size of a fist lodging itself in his throat.
Snow's pitiless stare burned into him.
"You know, Sir, maybe... maybe you and Mags can solve this. Nobody wants a rebellion." Finnick shifted uncomfortably. Better go with the truth. "She doesn't at least, neither do I. Have her come on the Tour and clear up things. She knows how to talk to people. Eirene hated the Capitol, or at least it won't be difficult to make people believe that, considering what happened to her. She was… overzealous. I know Mags could never have asked her to do that. Mags cared too much for her."
Snow stood abruptly up and waved his men towards the door. "Keep being apolitical, Mr. Odair, and we may even be friends."
Finnick forced a shy smile. He did want Snow to consider him a friend. He really did. Then he'd shove a trident in his back and party.
Coriolanus Snow stared at the city below.
He'd made a mistake. A series of mistakes. He had never anticipated such backlash. He'd never thought those district savages would be so clever.
He almost couldn't remember now, why Mags had been such a problem. He hadn't measured the extent of her hold on District Four.
His power was hanging to a thread. His own city was turning upon him.
"Find me Plutarch Heavensbee," Snow ordered. "He wanted to speak to me, I'm available now."
He feared it was time to draft a proposal for the deserters and lift the embargo. He had to bring the Homeguard home.
The taste of defeat was bitter. Snow vowed to never taste it again. He had been too proud.
Year 66, end January, Creneis Town, one day after Eirene's suicide.
Mags hurried downstairs to pick up the ringing phone. "Mags speaking."
She almost dropped the phone when she recognized that cold, velvety voice.
"If you and Flickerman find a way to end this cleanly and pacify the crowds, you and your loved ones will live and I'll leave Four alone. You'll be making a District-wide speech tomorrow evening and leaving for the Victory Tour, with your husband." Snow said, before hanging up.
Mags stared stupidly at the phone in her hand, unable to believe her ears.
"Who was that?" Cereus said, reaching her side.
"Snow." She abruptly giggled. "He's angry, but he... he's backing away," Mags said, her eyes wide in stunned wonder. "He wants me to make sure he remains President."
Cereus grasped her hand, a deep frown marring his features. "He still has control over the army."
"Don't worry, Cereus," Mags said. "I'll do it. He'll stay President, for a while still." She grinned. "Pack a suitcase, we'll be both leaving for the tour."
Cereus' delighted smile lit up the room.
Mags was so glad Eirene wouldn't be inflicted this.
Please review.