Chapter Forty-Six - "Changes"

The New Year comes with high hopes for those who are loyal and those who were wise enough to drop their arms once the tide turned.

Randall and I spend it snuggled up in my - our - living room, watching the customary New Year's address given by President Choudhury. From her desk in the State Office, she speaks of ambitious reforms. Reforms like the resumption of the nation's Congress and district's individual legislatures after nearly eighty-years of dissolution stemming from the Dark Days, or so they tell us in school. I wonder to myself if I could take a crack being a legislator sometime in the far future, when the children are older. I can't see myself sitting around forever.

"The Capitol is by no means obligated to restore these institutions to you," Choudhury intones. "Whereas the Capitol is relentless in using its armored hand to protect from and destroy Panem's threats, it can't lose sight of its paramount goal of safeguarding our future. Part of 'safeguarding' our future means shirking stagnation. Stagnation stymies growth which in turn stymies our future."

What did she mean by that? 'Stagnation'. 'Stymie'. Did she mean that President Snow didn't improve Panem at all? That's not true. What about the safeguarding of our environment, the Coriolanus 9 Power Plant in District 5, the aiding in the establishment of Overwhill Academy? The Victor's Villages throughout Panem?

"Gonna be weird not seeing President Snow behind that desk…" murmurs Randall. "Been months since she's been in, yet I'm still expectin' him to come on screen any moment now."

"He was old," I reply, sipping my cocoa. "Times are a changin', I guess."

I can see why some victors opted to ditch school entirely following their win. The return to campus for winter semester was, at least in the eyes of my fellow students and reporters, triumphant. So many high-fives, handshakes and private heartfelt thank-yous from cadets and faculty with fallen loved ones. I guess it comes with being a victor, district and national hero. I still can't get over seeing my portrait hanging alongside the likes of Brutus Gunn and Enobaria Golding and other victors at the Academy's central orderly room. I always tend to forget my late Aunt and my namesake, Zenobia Rivendell. Looking at her portrait now in comparison to mine, we could be direct siblings. The local press are on hand for the hanging, snapping a photo of me beaming proudly as Commandant Rudiger clasps my hand for a handshake.

"Congratulations, Zenobia," says Commandant Rudiger. "Your folks would be proud."

"Thank you, ma'am. I look forward to helping the Academy in any means possible," I reply. Typically, our victors serve on a selection board to determine our tributes. Alongside the board is an endowment donated by our victors and other benefactors. But with our pool of victors diminished and the next few reapings consisting of deliberate selections, it'll be a while before we get back on our feet. Rudiger mentions aiding in future training of our tributes and cadets in general. I may take her up on that soon enough.

The winter weather doesn't bother the press from continuing to come out, as for the next few days and weeks reporters spend their time discreetly snapping photos and taping my every move. Alongside the occasional brief interview. During our evening downtime, everyone would have a gas as we watch televised gazettes depicting all the things I did in that given month. The Boys even manage to visit me, alongside some photographers from Victors' Affairs. They really ham up the 'judge, jury and executioner' bit, fitting me into a judge's gown and having me pose behind a desk adorned with 'Panemiana'. It's just one of many Victory Tour posters that are slated to be distributed. Naturally, the theme relates to the Capitol's triumph over the rebellion.

I'm not the only one in the spotlight. I catch Viondra and the Boys giving interviews to Caesar at length about their time with me. The way they're being swarmed by cameras makes me glad I don't have it as bad. From what phone calls I do have with my escort, she's taking it all in stride. Among the stories of having to fend off mobs of admirers, Viondra tells me that they aim for the Victory Tour being set for June, mainly because of Emery needed to make up class as well as due to the late November start of our Games. Emery's not exempt from the news either. They cover her return to classes. I can't help but notice how much older she looks, barely acknowledging the cameras as she marches down the hall of her school, books pressed against her chest with a entourage of friends following her every move. Remembering how upset she was the days following our return, I silently hope to Panem that things have gotten better since I left and hopefully by June there will be a noticeable change in her mood.

With all this attention coming our way, my way specifically, I don't think I fully grasped how 'iconic' my thrust into the Games were. I understand being excited in December, January and maybe even a little of February. It's March now . Nothing much has changed since first coming back. You would think people would be used to it by now. Not even our Academy patrons - all of Two's victors - got this much attention when spotted on campus. Sometimes I think about rebuffing their praises.

Like I always say; I did what I felt I needed to do and got out. It's only until recently I thought about the glory and fame that comes with doing that.

The Capitol continues to keep tabs on me through the appointment of Lieutenant/Dr. Rhodes as my counselor. Despite my insistence that I'm fine, they cite 'ill-affording' anything less than 'fine'. I don't mind having to meet her, as it would be nice to have an adult speak to me frankly instead of singing my praises every five seconds.

Like the doctors did in the Capitol following the Games, Dr. Rhodes prods me with a series of questions. Do you still have visions? Do you feel any remorse, either for the loss of allies or even the lives you took? How is your mood overall?

I don't see the point in asking and I answer in kind. I saw my brother maybe because I was beyond livid. Maybe because I knew that he would've cheered me on from launch to finale. Hells, I imagine he would've joined me. Thinking about it now, him shockingly surviving his wounds and joining me in the arena would have been legendary. Like Viondra said, family is a strong motivator. They were probably there with me, some way, some how. Clinging onto their memory was a major factor to me getting out of there, besides the obvious.

Syndra, Eldwyn and the others were going to die anyways. They were 'cushioning'. Like Eldwyn, I'll try to make good with the parents of Syndra and the others if I see them. In regards to the 'others', why the hell would I feel any sort of remorse for those rebels? I threw myself into those Games to kill as many of them as I could.

And my mood? It's as fine as it can be. With Randall by my side, as well as an entire Academy full of cadets that were pressed into service and have their own scars, we help lift each other up. That's that, as far as I'm concerned.

Crossing my arms, I watch Dr. Rhodes scribble furiously onto her notepad. "So…What say you, Doc?"

Setting her pen down, she eyes me with a frown. "I'm somewhat confused. You feel no fear, no anxiety about anything concerning the Games? You aren't overwhelmed with the titles, the fame...?"

I shrug. "Like I've said before, Doc, I was ready to die. Guess fate had other plans." I recline back into the sofa. "The fame? Well, I imagine like the victors 'fore me, I'll get used to it."

"You said your mood was 'just fine'. Wouldn't you feel 'great' if the Games were essentially nothing to you? What's holding you back from feeling 'great'?"

"Wish my 'rents and Paulus were here," I say with a sigh. "Know they'd be happy. Just wish I could see it in person."

She nods with pursed lips. "Understandable, though your newfound family seems to fill in the void. The marriage. How is that? How do you…manage?"

"Manage what?"

Her face constricts into a frown. "In general…? Married and going to school - together? How do you…?" she then motions with her hands, seemingly trying to conjure up the words before chuckling shyly. "You have to admit, Zenobia, that these are uncharted waters here. Two growing teenagers…married?"

It all clicks in my head, and my cheeks run a little hot. "Randall's nice. We…It's basically like before the War. He's always patient with me and Mom always taught me not to be fast. We attend class like normal and sleep in the boy's and girl's dorms separately like everyone else. We'll work on us when we graduate."

"Helps that no one knows." We both exchange nods as she grins. "Well Zenobia, I can't say that I'm not taken for a loop due to all this. Yours is a particular case that will never be repeated again. All I'd advise now is not to let the fame get to your head. Even the most prominent need help sometimes. Seek it if you need it."

A fair opinion, though I don't see myself basking in glory like victors past. Victory was never the main goal. Still, I'm glad I have her around to set me straight, otherwise I would have offed myself in that hospital with no one around to stop me. "Thanks Doc, 'priciate it.".

Lately I haven't been able to follow up with the good doctor. I quickly find out that it's because she's often preoccupied with a good portion of the girls here at Baron Overwhill Academy. Many of which have vanished, judging by how thin our ranks are at morning formations. Domita Wilson is one of those many girls. To make things even more interesting, Garrison has been awfully tense as of late. Even more tense than usual. I recall the first day of freshman year when they sat us down and told us about the fraternization policy. "There is no place for relations between cadets or cadets and faculty," they said. "As Panem's future officers and senior enlisted, your paramount focus shall be on being the best you can be.". That's the official line. The rule is constantly flaunted, just as long as the couples are discreet.

So much for discretion.

On one particular morning PT formation, Sgt. Floris gives the formation a solid stare down for a few seconds before bellowing out. "Sweet Panem! We bunch of horndogs in this company, don't we!?"

Later that day at lunch, Bea, being an apprentice for the academy infirmary, fills us in. "A lot of the pregnancies occurred during the time of the declaration of victory."

Garrison blanches, adjusting his glasses as Randall claps him on the back. "Perhaps it was all the posca?"

"Garrison Forge - a father!" Callista cackles, jutting her fork toward the boy in question. "I guess eggheads do indeed have gumption." this earns a playful slug to the shoulder by Bea.

"What do your folks think?" asks Randall.

"They're Shocked, but elated." Garrison replies sheepishly. "Truth be told, I didn't see this in the cards…"

Bea hums with glee. "The baby'll look so cute! I'm excited for you, Garri."

As Garrison offers a sheepish "Thank you" in reply, Callista continues to wear that shit-eating grin on her face as she nurses her drink. Glancing at Randall, I can't help but exchange grins with him. I knew it and he seems to have known as well. The tiredness replacing her usual hyperactive behavior, the larger uniforms over time...Who would've thunk a neck full of hickeys would translate into this?

It isn't until June when school is pretty much wrapped up that Bea and I are able to visit Domita's village. The pregnancy isn't stopping her from helping around the family ranch, it seems. Domita's toned midsection has given way to a prominent bump covered up by overalls. I quickly conclude that she looks good. That' pregnancy glow' everyone talks about.

"Can't get complacent," she says to us, leaning against her rake whilst wiping sweat off her brow. "I plan to leave the squirt here, continue on with my enlistment. He'll have plenty o' friends in the form of my cousins."

Beatrix grins. I can't help but grin too. "You know it's a boy?"

My eyes can't help but watch as Domita plants a hand on her stomach, gently patting it. "Dunno the gender personally, but mama says it's the shape of the belly! She's seen it in herself and the other women in the family."

I nod. "That's good. Both for the baby and the wanting to get back to schooling, I mean." Beatrix tells me they often mail assignments to cadets who are away for long periods. By the Fall, Domita'll be with us again, thin as a rail, like most female cadets who disappear looking a little bigger.

"So, Stringbean, you have a Victory Tour and the Games comin' up?"

I hum in response, nodding.

"Ready?" she asks. I'm trying my darndest to stop eyeing her belly. I can't help but wonder; if life went differently, if those bastards didn't lay a hand on me and I wasn't afraid that night with Randall…Would I be one of the many Academy girls currently pregnant? Bea snaps her fingers in my vision, bringing me back to the present.

"Sorry," I splutter. "For the Tour? Should be interestin'. As for the Games, nothin' t'be ready for. Ain't mentorin' rebels. They can be bloodbaths for all I care."

Bea remains straight-faced as Domita nods in agreement. "Can't say I blame ya," she replies. "Gonna be weird not seein' worthwhile Twos in the Games. But I think we sacrificed enough, let them see what it's like without the Academy shieldin' them."

That's exactly my thought on the matter. It's going to suck, having to lose a few years worth of potential Two victors in order for the children of the rebels to get their comeuppance, but that's all fine with me. As long as the rebels lose and no Overwhill cadet sacrifices their life. I'm not looking forward to some freshman cadet trying to 'follow in my footsteps' one day.

After some time of talking to Domita's family, Beatrix and I make a promise to return in the late summer to check in on her and the baby. Part of me wonders if I could ask Viondra or whoever is in charge if I can remain in Two, as unlikely as that is. No point mentoring dead kids walking.

June is an awfully weird time to host a Victory Tour.

With it taking place in the summer rather than the usual winter, I'd imagine that the festivities will be a lot more dynamic, Viondra tells me that much as she arrives one day before the Tour is scheduled to kick off. "From what I hear, things aren't doing very well in the Outer Districts. Mass migrations, widespread infrastructure issues…"

"Tell me something I don't know," I snip in reply, giving Fletcher my arm as he, Wyatt and Amir fit me for another multiple set of uniforms.

"Ha ha…" Viondra counters. "Remember what I said on Launch Day. Be our beacon."

Apparently they had drafted plans for Randall to join me. People in the Capitol have become curious about the promise ring I wore, not to mention his appearances in interviews while I was in the arena. The VA opted not to because with Emery included, three's a crowd. At least we have this car ride to the station together. "Sucks…but you're the star, not me."

"Come to think 'bout it," I hum, playfully tapping my hand against his thigh. My face is only inches away from his. "Would've been nice to have you around. The bedroom suites on the train are huge."

The sniggering of Viondra and my prep team has my face just as beet red as Randall's. Damn. I guess that's what happens when you're a little too comfortable. The car stops at the station where a sizeable crowd and some of District 2's officials are on hand to greet me with a camera crew there to capture it.

Randall wraps me int a strong embrace. "Stay safe out there, Zen."

"With the amount of PKs surroundin' me?" I give him a peck on the cheek, causing the audience's cheers to raise an octave. "Should be easy enough."

Leaving Randall and the welcoming party after saying my good-bye, I'm left with my thoughts now as Viondra and the Boys join me in heading towards the station platform. More specifically, I find myself thinking about the post-Games period and how upset Emery was. Have things changed for the better? Maybe my being in Two and her being in the Capitol helped garner her more attention and therefore helped her mood. Either way, I'm about to find out.

We make the platform where a odd-looking train waits. Some cars are as sleek and opulent as I recall from previous Games and Victory Tours alike while others are gunmetal grey, fitted with cannons and machine guns. I can't help but wonder; just how bad is the situation outside the Core Districts? I haven't seen much reports apart from reconstruction and executions.

With another camera crew on hand, they make me greet the train alone and I'm astonished at the sight of my co-victor as she emerges though the sliding doors. With her dove gray cardigan, white blouse and dark skirt with hose and shiny Mary-Janes on her feet, she's exactly what comes to mind when one thinks of a 'young Capitol girl'. As we begin to meet halfway, part of me wonders what I do when I get there. Are we hugging? I get my answer in the form of an extended hand, the 'prim and proper' choice. The formal, Capitol way.

"Hello Zenobia," Emery says in that clipped accent of hers, sounding like a sophisticated woman instead of the thirteen-year-old she is.

I'm not sure why, but I was expecting a different type of welcome. Something typical of a girl her age, like a hug. Or like back in the arena where she had this 'softness' about her. On second thought I'm being unrealistic. She's been through so much, there doesn't seem to be much child left despite some years left of it to go.

"Hey, City Mouse." I accept her hand and pump it. Her face sours in response. The same playful way it did when I dubbed her that for the first time. I grin, glad that she isn't entirely stuck in the mood I left her in in December.

Looking her up and down, it's only been a few months yet I swear she's made some headway in the growth department. She's changed. During the Games she stood at my chest, now she now stands at my shoulder. The baby fat on her face completely gave way to a much sharper, oval-like form.

I barely notice Caesar's introduction and the audience's applause from the transmitter in the camera. Our reunion is being broadcast to all of Panem. "Hello hello ladies, nice to see the duo back together again!"

"Hello Caesar," I reply awkwardly, finding my 'footing' as I focus my gaze towards the camera's central lens. "Nice to…'see you' again."

Laugher from both him and the audience. "Nice to see you too! Gee both of you two seem different. Have you been keeping well!?"

I recall the 'reminders' Viondra gave me in regards to this 'mini interview'. "Very well! Thanks to the Capitol's leadership, the situation here in Two is improving every day. I look forward to the new-and-improved Victors' Village."

"Yes, I've heard about that! I too look forward to that. New designs, very chic!" croons Caesar. "What say you, Emery? How's the Capitol's very own victor doing?"

"Good, Caesar," she responds. "Me and the Smithson family have never been happier due in part to the Capitol's love and forgiveness of me."

I don't dare glance her way, even with the pause caused by the crowd's applause. There's some more back and forth between us and the famed host. Emery, having graduated elementary school, is heading to the famed Capitol Academy. I tell them about my excitement of heading into my senior year, which of course leads into if my promise ring will be replaced with something else…little do they know.

"Exciting, exciting!" gushes Caesar. "I'm happy that our duo is moving on despite all the disruptions…Speaking of disruptions, any goals as you head into the tour, Zenobia?"

I nod. "Of course, Caesar. I've only seen what the Rebels have done to District 2, so I'm very curious to see how widespread the destruction is elsewhere and how others in the nation, under the Capitol's guidance, are working quick to fix it. I'm looking forward to meeting heroes both sung and unsung."

That of course, garners cheering and applause. "Very well Zenobia, Emery! We look forward to your tour of the nation as well as your visit - and Emery's return - to the Capitol!"

As soon as the fanfare dies, Emery does an about face and marches back onto the train, breezing past Viondra, her escort Pluto and a number of Peacekeepers. Viondra, seemingly amused, sparks up a cig and fastens it into her holder.

"Someone's eager…" she remarks wryly. She motions me forward in a 'ladies first' way, prompting me to stick my hands in my skirt pockets and exhale ragged though a gap in my lips. This tour should be interesting enough.

It doesn't take long to be underway. With about a days worth of travel to the eastern side of the nation, we - meaning Viondra, Pluto and the respective prep teams for Emery and I - spend the most of our time in the dining car, eating foods that would cost multiple high-tier ration stamps, as well as chatting about everything from the rapidly changing fashion choices seen in the Capitol, to the possibility of yet another rebellion. I can't help but stare at Pluto throughout the hangout. According to Viondra he's the half-brother but he could be the full brother if you ask me.

Emery watches on quietly, rarely grinning, until she doesn't. "Can I try that?"

The room quiets, with all eyes turning towards Fletcher, who holds a tumbler of wine. They all break into a bout of slightly-buzzed giggles. He turns to Pluto. "Should I?"

"She's a victor now," says Viondra. "I suppose now would be a good time as any."

I look on silently, feeling slightly put off by the whole thing. What with Emery fulfilling a certain image in my head. Her drinking doesn't go along with the cutesy 'Little Emery'. I quickly tune out the thought. It's the pot calling the kettle black. I recall passing flasks around with Paulus and his friends during my freshman year.

'Sides…she doesn't agree with the 'Little Emery' label, so why should I?

Pluto seems uneasy. "How about we start her off with posca?"

Emery sits a little straighter. "I've already tried Posca."

"Really now?" giggles one of her preps.

"Mhm." she looks at Viondra. "Before the war, she swiped a bottle from your father's cabinet."

After a brief second of amused grinning among the adults, Fletcher hands Emery his glass. Handling it like a grown woman rather than a thirteen-year-old, she savors a sip before downing the glass in its entirety, causing roaring laughter amongst our team. Pluto mutters something along the lines of "Save it for when you start freshman year…", swiping the glass as Emery smacks her lips and shrugs as if it were nothing.

She's changed alright.

Later that night I find her not in her quarters, but at the observation deck. With Viondra's mutated hyena pups at my knees, Emery takes one look at them and frowns deeply.

"Could you not bring them around me, please?" she sniffs, holding her glare towards the mutts.

I pause. To my surprise, even Mars and Juniper growl lowly. I respect her request, returning the pups back to Viondra before returning again. "What, you not a dog person?"

"I very much prefer cats." Something tells me there's more to it than just a simple preference. "Back home I have a Capitol Shorthair named Kat."

I join her at the wraparound seating and gaze briefly through the window at the evening sky. "Kat?"

"Katniss." her grin deepens as my brow arches higher. "I got her during the whole craze after the Seventy-Fourth. After the Quell, mother wasn't having it so 'Kat' it was."

We fall into a comfortable silence. Alternating my gaze from the sky to my co-victor, I can't help but notice she still has that diary of hers. You'd think that she would save writing in it until she was alone, but here she is, writing in front of me. Probably about her first taste of full-fledged alcohol.

"You've changed," I say.

She stops writing mid-sentence, shutting her diary while taking off her eyeglasses. "What do you mean?"

"Y'know, back in December, you seemed upset," I say. "Rightfully so, but it seemed…forever. You seem…better."

"Because I have to try to be better. Nothing's 'changed'." she holds my gaze. "Do you know what my doctor says during my Victors' Affairs sessions?"

"Tell me."

"To be like you," she answers, gesturing aimlessly with her hand. "Be fearless, be unwavering. What happened happened and there's no way to change that let alone dwell deeply on it so I might as well trudge on."

"S'not a bad idea. I'm right there with you. Not a day goes by where I don't think about, my brother, mom or dad."

"Even though you kil-"

"Yes, even though I got my revenge in the end. I take solace in the fact that they would be happy with the outcome. I wasn't lyin' to you when I said things get better. Look at me for example, things are made better with my friends and classmates helping me along. From what I recall speakin' to em, your folks are pretty pleased t'have you back. I imagine that makes things better, no? With my friends and your folks, all we can do is 'trudge on'. Things wont get any better."

Unlike that chilly December evening, my co-victor seems a lot more receptive, taking it all in. She's got bravery by the bucketful. Sure, people have helped her along the way but at the end of the day, it's up to her to sink or swim and she's swimming.

"It seems so simple," she says lamely. "We know what's wrong with us and we go as far as to say it - "I'm going to move on" or "They would want me to move on" but then we just…don't."

"Easier 'said' than 'done', right?" I reply, nodding as she hums in agreement. I grin, reaching under my silk pajama top to reveal a silver ring with a marble centerpiece suspended by a pearl chain - the same as the ID discs I currently wear as well. "I lied. 'Friends' aren't the only thing that keep me 'trudging on'."

Emery's eyes light up as she scoots closer, gasping while clutching my knees. "I remember. The promise ring. Randy. Did you…?"

Her energy bolsters mine, compelling me to smile my face off as I nod.

"I wish I could have come."

"We were worried 'bout your health. School too."

She hums in agreement, only for her face to light up again. "Could you tell me about it? Oh please?"

"'Course." I nod. "But first, you gotta tell me about that special girl you told me about. Dawn…? 'Magine she's happy you're back, right?"

"Yes! I will. Maybe we can take this to my room? There's plenty of space incase we doze off."

She takes me by the hand, tugging me along while marveling my wedding ring. As we travel through the corridors, I make conclusions about this reunion. This is what it must be like to speak to her before the War. When she was allowed to be Emery. I have to say I like it. She's a little younger, so obviously it takes longer for her to recover. As frustrating as she can be sometimes, I never wished her wrong, even when I prepared to skewer her with a shard of metal.

We'll get through this tour. She'll go to high school and grow a little bit more all while I support her along the way like the kid sister I never had. I see her like that more and more. We will be alright.