Author's Note: We arrive at the start of launch day for those final moments before it all goes to hell. Apologies for the length of this chapter. I considered splitting it but then it would slow an already slow burn down even more!
Thank you to everyone still reading this, we're getting there I promise!
….
Separation
"You're not coming back, are you? You haven't changed your mind?" Aria asked her mentor.
"No, Aria darling. Gloss and I haven't changed our minds. We can't do this without each other. It's over for us. But not for you. You need to keep going. You are stronger than you think," Cashmere said, hugging her victor.
"Gem said she'd stay with me."
"That's right. Stick with Gem. Do whatever she tells you to. We've made a deal, Gem and me. You are the priority. Look, something is going to happen. I don't know what, but Gem will help you. Don't trust anyone other than Gem, or who she tells you to trust."
"Thank you, Cashmere. For helping. For trying with me when the others got bored."
"I wasn't going to be bored of my victor, you're my girl. Now, this is goodbye, Aria. I won't embarrass you, or the district, but this is it, for Gloss and me, at least. You need to live your life, on your own terms, my girl."
Most of District One's farewells were not as emotional. Gloss' bond with his own victor Augustus was not the same. Gus had distanced himself as Gloss' struggles became more evident. They shook hands, shared a brief hug and Gloss told Gus that he was happy he had found his place. It may not be what Gloss wanted for his victor, for Gus to be so drawn into Luxor's worldview, but it worked for him.
Both Gloss and Cashmere shared a brief farewell with Satin, but they were not particularly fond of the older victor, so it was Gem they spent the most time with. The woman who had helped them as the tide turned against them, expectations increased, and their troubles mounted. She was who they trusted with their plans for the arena, not their own mentors who were still left doubting the siblings' intentions.
But it was left to Topaz and Luxor, as the official mentors to share the parting words with their individual victors. Luxor's denial continued as he told Gloss to do everything possible to come home, whilst the victor turned tribute once again looked on exasperated. If doing everything possible to come home meant murdering his sister, that was something he was not willing to do.
Topaz had seemed to realise over the past few days what the likely outcome would be. So, she said to her charge, "Look, Cashmere, my girl, I know it's different this time around, but do what you can. Put on the District One show. Ultimately, I know what you do is your choice. I won't change your mind."
….
Lyme entered Brutus' room as soon as she knew he would be awake. The call had come early.
"Not as close to the Capitol this year," she announced.
"You know that doesn't matter. It could be anything. Well, not quite anything. I still don't see them playing with the cold like they did in Baria's year," Brutus replied.
"They're not trying that one again anytime soon. But it will be something, as all the tributes are quite something."
"So, I better be the best of the best."
"Of course. But you are already."
Brutus laughed, "You believe that? I'm better than Enobaria? Cleo's girl?"
"Cleo's not here to listen. But yes. She's faster but you could snap her neck. Like you could any of the others."
"And that's what it's going to come down to?"
"If it has to. But don't tell me you haven't imagined it, with just hours to go?"
"Of course I have. You know me, Lyme. It's weird to think about, but I've done it."
"And now you're going to have to do it for real."
"Any final advice, for old time's sake?"
"You'll be back, the Quarter Quell victor. The one everyone wants to be and looks up to. Do what you have to do at the start. Nothing flashy. Prove your strength, take control of the alliance and wait out the inevitable confrontation. Don't look for it too early. You know as well as I do that this Quell will need a finale for the ages. Don't go for Odair before you have to."
"You think he'll have the Twelves with him?"
"Of course. There's a reason the Fours have been playing it coy. Mason will be there too. And if Mason is there, then you can bet Blight will have tagged along for the fun of it."
"It should be quite the spectacle."
"Oh, it will be. And you need to be there. Stay alive, Brutus, to the very end. I'll meet you when it's done," Lyme said.
"Lyme?" Brutus started as she left, "Thank you. We've been a good team."
As soon as she left, Lyme headed back to her own room to collect her thoughts. She had done what she had to, told Brutus to get to the very end, that she would meet him when it was all over.
But truthfully, Lyme had no idea what the world would look like as the arena fell. Would Brutus hate her once he realised her part in it all? Brutus, who loved routine, the notion of District Two pride, making the most of their favoured status. Or would he begin to see what Lyme had noticed years ago? Would he take her side as he always had done, cementing their friendship, or would it be a step too far, embracing rebellion and the unknown?
She simply didn't know. But she was sure that she wanted Brutus and Enobaria alive. What she said to Brutus was true. He could kill Baria. But Lyme could not sit alongside Cleo and watch as that happened. Her allies across the districts needed to make sure they had got away before it was time for that.
Back in Two's lounge, Cleo had shaken hands with Brutus, hugged him, wished him well and reasserted her confidence in him as the pride of District Two. But everyone knew she had very little time for anybody but Enobaria at this point. Her girl was the most important person to her, and she was going to spend every moment she could at her side.
Brutus returned to his own mentor, Petran for their final conversation.
"You're ready," Two's older victor said.
"I am. I can do this."
"Put it all aside, Brutus. It's the only way."
"I know," Brutus replied.
"Just do the job. Get it over with. Nothing showy, no flaunting, not this year. It would be-"
"Inappropriate and disrespectful," Brutus finished.
"Exactly. And that's the only time I let you interrupt me, boy," Petran chastised.
"Sorry boss," Brutus laughed, finding the humour in how easily they had reverted to the situation they were in twenty-six years ago.
"Get to the Cornucopia. Get what you can and start. You'll be in charge of the pack. Baria knows it and make sure the Ones do too."
"Understood."
"The Threes. They're a problem, as we've agreed. Deal with them. I'll make the apologies. Otherwise, take out the numbers. Those who nobody will expect much of. Leave a show for the end, give the Capitol what they want, understood?"
"All understood."
"Good," Petran said as he pulled Brutus in close. "Be the victor we all know you are, my boy."
….
Beetee was awake early. He left Wiress sleeping as he went to join Pluto, who he knew would be up too. They were sharing a drink when the call to wake the tributes came, so Beetee made no effort to move, knowing that Halley would be immediately at Wiress' side.
"This is it," Pluto started.
"This is it," Beetee agreed. "After so long, it comes down to this."
"You, the Twelves, Odair, Mason and the wire. Just get the wire and get clean away without giving me a heart attack."
"Brutus and Enobaria are coming for me. I could be dead before it all starts."
"Don't talk like that."
"I'm just being realistic. It's a lot to expect the others to jump in front of me and face the Twos."
"But they'll do it. They understand. This is bigger than all of us."
"But, say if-"
"Then Odair knows some of what to do. The trident is long-range enough for it to work, you've made sure of it. We'll get the message to him. But get the wire and get out. Then we work together. You on the inside. Me from here."
"Just like old times."
"We're going back to the beginning. But this time, you're finishing this alive, not me."
"Are you sure this is what you want?"
"Well, I don't fancy prison or torture. A public execution isn't exactly on my to-do list either."
"Halley would take you with her."
"I know. She's told me."
"So why this?"
"Because I will slow her down. She needs to get back, she's the crucial one at home. And it would mean leaving you when things heat up. I'm not doing that. I'll watch you do what you need to do and then take the easy way out. Just like falling asleep. Knowing that I've done everything in my being to make this work. The rest is up to you, my friend."
They finished their conversation as a tearful Wiress and Halley joined them for their final meal together. The food in the Capitol was normally good, but on this occasion, nothing they ate tasted of anything. The air surrounding the table was heavy, just as the responsibility they all were carrying bared down on their shoulders.
Pluto broke the silence, "We've had a good run. We've been absolutely and entirely brilliant. I love the three of you and I know my feelings are echoed. But this is something great, greater than the four of us. Let's do what's been asked of us and know that we will always stand by each other. For District Three, our home."
"For District Three," they echoed.
….
They knew when the call would come on Four's floor. They knew where the area was. Mags and Finnick were going home.
In her eighty years, Mags had never been one for sleeping, and certainly not since she left the arena of the Eleventh Hunger Games. Now, as she was about to enter the Quell arena, she certainly was not going to waste longer than she needed on sleeping.
She had drifted off for a short while, but it was not long before she found herself in quiet conversation with Chloe and Coral who had sworn to not leave her side until it was time. The three of them lay together, Chloe and Coral's hands linked over hers as they talked about happier times in Four, the things they had achieved together and how great Four could become. They loved District Four, and they loved each other. Mags knew what sacrifice she was about to make, and Chloe and Coral understood what being in the Capitol when it started meant for them. They knew the risk and had decided that Mags was worth it. Anywhere she went, they would follow, even if it meant the end for them.
Noah and Finnick were also sharing a conversation, watching as the night gradually faded into the early morning hours over the Capitol.
"She needs to trust you."
"I know. Haymitch said she knows what this means," Finnick said, adjusting the bracelet at his wrist.
"I sure hope she does. But do whatever you need to get her on side and away from the Cornucopia."
"Save Peeta," Finnick said.
"The boy?"
"I was speaking with Halley. She said to get to whatever is most important to the girl and work together."
"To save Peeta. It makes sense. He's the only one she likes."
"Exactly."
"The arena. We know there'll be water, you're going home. With that new prosthetic, I doubt he can swim."
"I'll have my chance then."
"Just make sure she sees it. But look Finn, if it all goes to hell, if they die-"
"Then I've failed, let Mags, and you all down."
"No, Finnick. It will not be on you alone. He will have failed, and he will have disappointed Mags, not you. She will never be disappointed in you, not now anyway. If it all goes wrong, come home. Get out of there alive."
"But the others. Johanna?"
"Johanna will prioritise you."
"Over her own survival?"
"Yes, Finn. She doesn't want to be the victor of all victors, she couldn't do it, couldn't cope, and it would kill the others keeping her alive and out of trouble. She wants you to win. You know that."
"Saying it is different to following through with it."
"Does Johanna lie about those things?"
"No."
"Precisely. So, if it all goes wrong, get out of there alive. Come back home. We'll look after you. We'll sort it out. Everything that needs doing, we'll do it. Just come home, Finn. We love you."
Their conversation was brought to a close by the women emerging from Mags' room, Chloe and Coral both in tears. The group took hands and stood quietly, staring at each other, taking each other in for the final time that they stood together. But they knew that even when they were parted, they would be united, that was the District Four way.
There was no way that Finnick and Mags would go to the hovercrafts alone, so they departed together. Chloe and Coral with their arms around Mags, and Noah, his hand on Finnick's shoulder as they were guided to the roof.
….
Porter was alone. It was done. They had shared a small breakfast, the food they could manage at the early hour and given the circumstances. Then Luna and Hal were taken, and Porter was left to begin her journey alone. She had been a victor for almost forty years, and this was the first time she was truly alone. She would mentor alone, bring her tributes' bodies back alone and live in Victors' Village alone.
She had shared some brief words with Hal. They both apologised for each other's circumstances, for the closer friendship they could have had if only they both acted differently over the years. But they had what they had, and it was good enough. Hal was resigned to his fate but wanted to go out on his own terms.
Porter had warned him not to be reckless. But something told her the warning would fall on deaf ears and she felt increasingly nervous as Hal was now left to stew in his own feelings.
She had escorted Luna to the hovercraft, Hal explaining that he did not mind walking alone. Luna and Porter had been best friends for decades. They shared a closeness he did not. Luna needed Porter's words and Porter needed Luna's presence whilst Hal needed to be alone.
And so it would be, the lone mentor dividing their time between two tributes without a decent chance at survival. This must be how Haymitch had felt for almost a quarter of a century. Porter did not envy him.
But Hal had effectively made the choice for her. Porter was not going to neglect him. She would use the sponsor money she had already obtained and take what more was offered but Hal had asked that if and when the time came, to prioritise Luna. He was not about to become a noble sacrifice for their district, but he was pragmatic. Luna and Porter were friends. He was the outsider. He did not want Porter to sacrifice her closest friendship for a slightly younger, hungover, reluctant friend when she had a fulfilling relationship that could sustain them both if they lost him.
Porter had reluctantly agreed but had not told Luna. Instead, they spoke of their friendship, the good times and anything that would help put Luna's mind at rest. When it was time, Porter simply told Luna to not be afraid. She had faced the jungle before, and if it were coming towards her again, she could face it once more. Porter would be watching, waiting and helping wherever possible. They had each other.
….
Whilst Claudia and Levi's characters had faded, their loss was still felt acutely on District Six's floor. Where their presence was felt at the table, it now felt empty, too large for Poppy and Max to feel at ease. Their number had halved from four to two in a matter of moments, and it would halve again before the week was out.
Max had spent time talking to Levi, about them meeting again soon, if anything waited for them beyond their current life. Levi hoped to see his children again and Max told him that he hoped for that too, for Levi and Claudia's sake. But truly, Max doubted if there was anything beyond this world, but saying that would offer Levi no comfort.
Poppy sat brushing and tying Claudia's hair, washing her face and hugging her mentor as the older woman thanked her for all she had done over the years. She administered the remaining morphling to Claudia and Levi, hoping that she had done her best to hold back the worst of the withdrawals and ease any pain they may soon feel. She offered to leave a small amount back for Max, but he declined. Claudia and Levi's need was far greater, and, in any event, he needed to feel his final days alive. He needed full cognizance of what was happening, to let go of his victors and ultimately his life, for when he reached Pluto at the end, it truly would be the end of his days too.
But now the room felt too large, and Poppy and Max wanted company, so they chose to head to Seven's floor before the worst of the day fell upon them.
….
As he opened the door, Linden could see in Poppy his own face reflected at him. He knew the pain in her face mirrored his own. Blight was gone, Johanna too and their accommodations felt too large without their presence. Part of him was missing, as he knew that Poppy had lost part of her too.
The door closed and Poppy fell into him. They wrapped their arms around each other and stayed like that for several moments. Liev noticed their closeness, furrowed his brow, and looked to Max as if requiring confirmation of his sudden realisation. But Max, (who Poppy had told years previously), shrugged his shoulders as he passed the pair and went to join Seven's older victors. Poppy's confidence was everything to him, even at a time such as this.
Linden felt bad for feeling so awful. At least he had hope. His pair had a chance. Poppy had two older victors who wanted to die. She knows she has said goodbye for the final time. Linden knew he might have too, but there was a chance that he would see at least one of Blight and Johanna again.
Blight had been firm before he departed. Linden's life was not over, despite what might happen to Blight. He may be losing a best friend, and a brother, but he had the chance to live out his life with Poppy. Everything was going to work; they were going to win and people who deserved a chance would get to live. That was what drove Blight. Despite his easy-going, fun-loving façade, he wanted everyone who had the chance to make the best of life. If he had done it in the worst of times, then Linden could make the most of the better times to come.
He brought Poppy into the group and poured her a drink. This was not a moment for healthy habits, (Blight would agree with him there), so they toasted to Blight and Johanna's good fortunes and to a painless passing for Claudia and Levi.
The group spoke in hushed tones, the air heavy and smothering. Their numbers were depleted, and it was only about to get worse. They tried to distract themselves, pouring more drinks, but they were stopped in their tracks by screaming coming from District Eight's floor.
Poppy glanced at Linden and the pair left together, hoping they could help Cotton before their arrival at the Mentor's Centre.
….
"I'm scared, Woof," Cecelia whispered.
"Don't be, my girl. Just remember what I've told you. I believe in you. I'll see you on the other side."
Cecelia didn't have the heart to tell Woof he would be joining her in the arena. He had woken up knowing it was the start of the Games, but he could not recall that he was a tribute. Cecelia had decided not to disrupt his calm and place him in even more distress.
"When we get there, Woof, remember me. Find me. Remember who to trust."
"Mags. Trust Mags. I've told you about her."
"Yes, you have dear. I know all about how wonderful Mags is and what great friends you are. You'll get to see her soon."
Cecelia could barely stifle her tears but was trying to keep Woof calm for as long as she could. She hoped they would be able to journey to the arena together. The Capitol would surely want to avoid visible distress before the arena. It was clear that many of the employees working for the Games were uncomfortable with Woof's situation and so far, she had been able to exploit their sympathy.
Behind them, Cotton was crying quietly, "I hate this. I hate that you're scared. I'm the mentor and I can't even tell you not to be scared, because I'm scared too."
"It's not a bad thing, my girl."
"I want to help you."
"You will do. You know who to talk to, who you can trust. Poppy, Halley, Maria, Linden, they'll all help. They've promised me. Trust them with everything, trust them with your life, Cotton."
"Thank you, for everything. I love you, and I'm so sorry Cecelia."
"Don't ever apologise. I love you too. You can do this. You're a survivor, a victor. I believe in you, Cotton."
….
They were gone. Barley and Mona had lost their victors. The only tributes they had managed to pull from the arena alive were returning to die. They had told them to do everything possible, to find in them what they had before, all those years ago. But Barric and Maizey had changed. They all had.
Years of mentoring had worn Barley down and Mona had always despised the Capitol. It turned her into someone she wished she was not, into Loriana, who she had tried to lock away permanently after Maizey came home. But now she was back, and her victors were gone.
They were angry, upset and bereft. They knew that despite everything, they would not see Barric or Maizey again. The fighters they had become in the arenas of the forties were gone, replaced by middle-aged city dwellers who had taken too long to see what was in front of them. Now the four of them could only wonder what could have been.
The pair had told their mentors that they were going to ally in the arena, for as long as possible. But Barric was quiet and uneasy before they departed, and not just because of the immediate future. He was hiding something from them and neither Barley nor Mona knew what it was. They could see the strain on Maizey's face, however, so they knew they had discussed whatever Barric was planning. But Barley and Mona were not going to waste their final time together arguing. They would find out Barric's intentions soon enough.
….
Maria was pacing around Ten's floor. Aloysius had come up to meet her, knowing she would be alone otherwise and that she would tolerate his company. Her beloved victors had left, just as Diego had done years before. She had killed Abraham and District Ten's first victor was sure to become their last standing survivor, a thought that weighed heavily on Maria's mind.
She had seen so much; both loved and hated her victors with every fibre of her being. Most recently, she had been devoted to Charo and Adan, loving them as if they were her own children and now, she felt a loss she could not comprehend.
They had been everything she thought victors could not be. Unfailingly kind and honest, with no veneer or alter ego about them. They were themselves entirely and she was so proud of them, knowing that they would face what was about to happen as themselves, with dignity and grace. They were proud to be from District Ten and she was proud of them.
They loved District Ten. Their people, their land, and their work and had tried to unite them all in the struggle. It was their love for their home which allowed them to return to the arena without regret.
Both Charo and Adan knew they would be missing out on so much, even more so if they won the war, which they knew to be imminent. They could have had years together, a family, a life free of the Games and the Capitol's ties. But it was not to be, and their sacrifice would be worth it if District Ten won all they were about to lose.
….
Orchard was so tired. Like Maria, he was facing a future being the first and last victor of his district, a fate he could not comprehend. He was unwell, angry and exhausted. His grief at losing his companions brought him to the very edges of his sanity. His knees gave way and he fell to the floor, his arms covering his face as he wept.
He could not bring himself to watch what was about to happen. Chaff could make it. There was a chance. He could find the others at the right time. He was intent on getting to Haymitch's boy. But Seeder was willing to sacrifice herself for half of the victors who would enter the arena with her, and Orchard knew that she would. The arena would provide her with far too many opportunities to become District Eleven's martyr.
But that was not the woman she should be known as. She was a hero to the people in District Eleven, who did everything possible to fight for their interests. Seeder was a woman of immense courage, pride and dignity. She had overcome everything the Capitol had thrown at her in the Twenty-Nineth Games, and she was too good for what was about to happen.
Orchard loved Chaff and Seeder too much to watch them die. He loved Mags and Woof too. So, he brought himself slowly to his feet and walked back to his bedroom, his mind having to pull his tired body the short distance from their now too-quiet living quarters. He returned to bed and fell asleep. Haymitch would have to wake him. He could not go downstairs. He could not watch what was about to happen.
….
It was an all too familiar feeling for Haymitch. Only now it was worse. Every year, for almost a quarter of a century, the tributes would be taken, and he would be the sole mentor from District Twelve, waiting in the penthouse alone.
But this year, he actually knew the tributes. They were his victors and he had realised that he did truly care for them. The front he was putting on was beginning to slip, now that he was alone. He had briefly been given a chance to not live in isolation and whilst he had not exactly taken advantage of the opportunity, he had become used to their company. Now he missed them.
He needed them to come back, alive. All too much depended on it. Depended on him. It was the biggest task of his life so far, getting his victors and his friends to District Thirteen without the entire plan, the entire rebellion falling at his feet. It was going to take every bit of his mental capacity, his intelligence and the cunning that got him out of the previous Quarter Quell alive. Only now, far more than his life depended on it.
