The boy sits, alone, shell-shocked. Absently, he rubs his hand over the velvet cushion, watching as the color of the fabric shifts from light to dark and back again.
In the quiet, the agonizing, painful silence, his mind returns to his last night at High Valley Farm. He sees, as he always does, the wolf's eyes piercing through the darkness. He sees his sister's body sprawled out on the forest floor.
He sees himself, sobbing, broken.
He doesn't expect anyone to come to say goodbye. Maybe some of the farmhands from all the places he's worked over the years, but certainly not his family. Why would they? They've assumed for years that he's dead; the boy made sure of it. To learn that their son is alive only for him to be shipped off to certain death… he can't imagine what his family must feel.
Confused. Betrayed. Upset.
All of the above.
Time drags on slowly. He has no idea how long he's been here – or how much longer he has to sit here in limbo, in this state between…
between…
(It's not between life and death. As far as the boy is concerned, his spirit died a long time ago.
Perhaps it's between death and the afterlife.)
The door bursts open; a loud BANG echoes through the room as it hits the wall, sending shockwaves through the boy's body. He stands up, only to be knocked over as a figure throws its arms around him.
She looks different than the last time Oskan saw her. Her face is fuller, more mature; her eyes are sadder, as if they haven't stopped crying in years; her shoulders sag, as if burdened by a weight that she could never shake.
"Sena?"
"Oskan," she whispers, clutching her brother closer.
"Hi."
She squeezes him, then pulls back, brushing her hand across his face. "Your hair."
"I know. It's easier."
"Where did you go?"
He shakes his head. "Everywhere. And nowhere."
More bodies rush into the room now. Some clamor for the boy's embrace, tears streaming down their faces as they clutch him tightly. Others stay closer to the walls, as if haunted by his presence.
The boy can't say he blames them.
When he hugs his parents, he feels tears prick in his own eyes. They sandwich him in a warm embrace, one of their heads resting on each of his shoulders. "I never thought I'd get the chance to say goodbye," his mother chokes out between sobs. "I can't tell if this is a nightmare or a dream."
To the boy's surprise, neither can he.
As the Peacekeeper comes to pull his family away, he finds himself in Sena's arms one last time. "Please, Oskan. Do whatever you have to, whatever you can to come home."
"I…"
"Please. Please, Oskan," she begs, as she's pulled away from him. "We've already lost you once. I can't bear to lose you again."
The boy opens his mouth to respond just as the door slams shut behind her.
He sinks down into the chair once again, Sena's words echoing through his mind. He's used to hearing her voice in his head, but he never expected the words would change.
(He can't bring himself to believe her.)
Where did you go?
Is it my turn to try now?
I never thought I'd get the chance to say goodbye.
Someone has to tell it.
I can't bear to lose you again.
Thank you. For stepping in.
Who are you, Oskan Kemal?
The first thing he notices is the quiet.
There are no rustling trees or tweeting birds, nor blasting music or cheering crowds. For once, he doesn't even hear any voices in his head. All he hears is a low, steady beeping.
For a moment, he finds relief in the quiet, a luxury that he rarely has. But the longer he stays in this stasis, the more uneasy he feels.
No natural place is this quiet.
But if he is not in a natural place, then… where might he be?
There is only one way to find out.
He hesitates for a moment before peeling his eyes open. Immediately, they close again, assaulted by the harsh white light. He feels his breathing speed up and his heart beat faster; never has he been in a place so bright.
Heartbeat.
Breathing.
Memories come rushing back – of Daciana's sobs, of Two's roar, of the sound of two cannons.
If he remembers two cannons, then…
Slowly, more carefully this time, he peels his eyes open. It takes a moment before they adjust to the brightness, before he can see the room around him.
He lays on a bed in a stark white room, covered by a thin blanket. A tube emerges from his arm, snaking all the way back to a bag of sorts hanging from a pole to his right; two wires are taped to his chest, connected to a monitor that sits on his left.
His heartbeat slows.
So does the beeping.
And his eyes flutter shut once more.
The wires are gone the next time he wakes.
Carefully, cautiously, he pushes himself up to a sitting position. He looks around to find that the monitor and pole are gone, as is the blanket that covered his body. Laid out at the foot of his bed is a simple outfit – a t-shirt, some sweatpants, and a pair of fuzzy socks.
He takes another moment before easing himself out of bed. His legs feel a little stiff, but they're far more stable than he expected. Tentatively, he walks in a circle around the bed until he feels limber enough to get dressed. As soon as he's clothed, a panel in the wall slides open.
And Abel Zelalem walks in.
Instinctively, the boy steps backwards, fully preparing to run around Abel and out of the room; he can't imagine his mentor is particularly happy to see him. But to the boy's surprise, Abel wraps his arms around him and squeezes tightly. "You did good, kid. I'm so proud of you."
"You're not upset?"
"Upset? Why would I be upset?"
"I'm not Daciana."
Abel pulls away, looking his mentee right in the eye. "You're not, that's right. You're you, Oskan. And you made it out alive."
"But what about all the things we talked about beforehand? About having a role and being able to play to the Gamemakers and...
"None of that matters now. You made it out. You're a Victor! That's all that any mentor can ask for."
Oskan blinks. That's right; he's a Victor now.
"Wild to hear someone else say that, isn't it?"
"How do you always know what I'm thinking?" Oskan exclaims.
Abel chuckles. "It's part of my job. Now, let's go get you ready for tonight."
Oskan fidgets with his cufflinks as the lights go down around him, a single spotlight illuminating the ornate throne on which he sits. The roar of the Capitolites peters out – finally – as the seal of Panem appears on the many screens that surround the stage.
The Victor can't decide how he feels about watching the recap. On the one hand, he's grateful that he can just sit and watch, that he doesn't have to answer any questions; he'll hopefully have some time to process the Games with Abel before his interview tomorrow. On the other, Oskan remembers very little from his time in the Arena. And the parts he does remember… he's not sure he wants to relive them in front of all of Panem.
(It's not like he has much of a choice.)
The days leading up to the Games pass by rather quickly; there's little content to show besides the Reapings, Opening Ceremonies, training scores, and interviews. As Oskan watches, he realizes that this is the first time he's heard the names of a large portion of the other tributes. He watched the television coverage on the night of the Reapings, sure, but he was certainly not in a position to remember most of them.
As he watches, he tries his best to remember as many as he can. But he had so few interactions with the other tributes that almost none of them stick.
Only one name stays with him that he didn't know before: that of the Two boy, who somehow scored an eleven.
Fenrir.
The bloodbath is painful to watch. Oskan is one of only a handful of tributes who run away from the Cornucopia; the rest charge in, desperate for supplies – or, perhaps, desperate for murder.
Those in the second camp are more successful than those in the first. Perhaps it's the snow, or perhaps the Careers are simply more vicious; either way, the bloodbath looks far bloodier and more chaotic than any Oskan can remember. By the time the smoke clears, the Careers lay claim to the cornucopia triumphantly, ten children bleeding out on the ground around them.
But the Careers don't stay still for long. The girl from Two points out to her allies that the many of tributes who fled from the Cornucopia left tracks in the snow. If they go hunting now, they could each log at least one more kill before night falls.
Oskan now understands how so many people died on the first day.
Obviously, her allies agree. They split along district lines, the Twos going in one direction and the Ones in the other, and set off to hunt. By the time they return, the blood of four more tributes colors their weapons.
Interspersed with scenes of the Careers are shots of the other remaining tributes. Oskan's heart hurts as he watches Issy practically prance through the snow, dancing in his much larger footprints. She catches sight of him, pauses, and then picks up the pace; clearly, her choice to follow him was much more intentional than he realized.
Oskan doesn't know why she chose to trust him. He tries not to think about how poorly that worked out for her.
The pace of the recap picks up after that, flying through the next two days. Screen time is mostly split three ways, between the three remaining alliances. The Careers try to hunt, with very little success; Fenrir, in an attempt to keep his allies calm, reminds them just how many kills they got the first day, which placates them for the most part. Midway through the second day, meanwhile, Daciana runs into Barley. The two chat for a while before agreeing to link up for the time being; both feel it's better to at least be with someone than to go at the Games alone.
And then there's Oskan and Issy. The Gamemakers choose not to show the time they spend together meandering through the Arena, or how well they work together to set up and take down camp.
Instead, the Gamemakers showcase their stories. They do not cut out a single minute of the one Issy told Oskan on the first night, nor the one Oskan told Issy on the third.
The camera even lingers on them for a moment – just a moment – after they fall asleep.
Oskan feels his heartbeat quicken as the fourth morning turns to afternoon, as the Careers stalk and kill the boy from Three. He knows exactly what's coming next: the biggest mistake he made in the Arena. For a moment, he thinks about looking away, but he chooses instead to face himself head-on.
When Asli died, he could not face his past mistakes. Oskan owes it to her – owes it to both of them – not to do that again.
He watches as Oskan-on-screen rubs Issy's back until she falls asleep. He watches himself cover Issy with his jacket, as he lingers by her side before stealing out of the cave. He expects the camera to stay on Issy, so the Capitolites can see her death in all its gory glory.
But it doesn't. It follows him outside.
Oskan feels the world slow down around him as he watches the boy on screen freeze at the sound of Issy's scream. The camera stays close to the tribute as he rushes back to the cave, draws his knife, and launches himself at one of the wolves in the cave. Oskan-on-screen stabs the wolf over and over, as if in a trance; he only stops once the wolf's carcass no longer resembles a wolf.
(The Victor reaches into his pocket to make sure the scrap of fabric is still there.)
The boy on screen pauses, eyes locked on the strips of fabric in the wolf's mouth. Oskan-the-Victor finds his heartbeat quickening as he watches his on-screen self close his eyes, turn around, and open them.
Oskan-the-tribute falls to the ground, sobs wracking his body.
It takes every ounce of willpower for Oskan-the-Victor not to do the same.
If Oskan had his way, he'd let himself live in the sadness for a little longer. But the recap moves on, speeding through the fifth and sixth days; clearly, Oskan-the-tribute didn't miss much while he was in his grieving stupor.
Oskan-the-Victor can't decide if that's something to be relieved about.
The recap slows down again on the morning of the seventh day, as it turns its focus to Daciana. She sits next to Barley under a tree, reviewing with him the remaining tributes left. As she realizes that the only survivors are the two of them, Oskan, and four Careers, a mischievous glint appears in her eyes.
She tells Barley that, at this stage of the Games, the Gamemakers must be preparing for a feast. She insists that the only chance they have of getting anything from the feast is if the Careers are not there.
She suggests, oh so calmly, that they ambush the Careers.
Dread builds in Oskan's stomach as he realizes: not only did she lie to him, but she pulled the exact same trick on him, too.
Daciana was far smarter than Oskan ever gave her credit for.
Even before they reach the Careers, Oskan knows what's bound to happen. He watches in horror as she and Barley plant themselves on opposite sides of the Cornucopia, Barley readying his machete as Daciana searches for a rock. Once she finds one that's heavy enough, she heaves it away from the Cornucopia; it lands with a thud in a tree, causing its leaves to rustle loudly.
As the Careers leap to their feet, Fenrir quickly takes charge, confidently strapping his dagger-claws to his hands. He instructs the others to stay put and guard the Cornucopia, more than confident in his ability to track down their assailant himself.
Daciana smirks. Clearly, that's what she was banking on.
As soon as Fenrir steps out of the Cornucopia's clearing, she whistles loudly, then runs as quickly as she can away from the horn. At the same time, Barley sneaks towards the Cornucopia, planting his machete firmly into the back of the girl from Two.
He might have had a chance of surviving if he'd left it there and ran. Instead, he pulls it out – and the girl from Two screams in agony.
In an instant, the pair from One are on him.
Barley never stood a chance.
As Barley's cannon fires, the recap switches back to Oskan-the-tribute. The Victor feels a phantom pain in his back as he watches himself duck behind a tree, away from the onslaught of footsteps that rush towards him. He wants to scream at himself not to step in, not to let himself be fooled by the girl. But he knows it's no use.
Oskan can't change the mistakes of his past.
(He files that thought away to think about later.)
And even if he could, he's not sure he would. Had he not found Daciana then, he likely would have remained in his stupor for the rest of his time in the Arena. More than likely, Fenrir would have found him.
More than likely, Oskan would not have had the willpower to fight back. And Issy's story would have died with him.
So Oskan chooses to put the Daciana that nearly killed him out of his mind as he watches himself run away from Fenrir, followed closely by the Daciana that he saves. He chooses to separate the malicious girl who stabbed him in the back from the gentle girl who carefully patched up his wounds, the brilliant girl who correctly predicted Fenrir's descent into paranoia from the terrified girl who cowered at the sight of his glinting metal claws.
She may have made bad choices, choices Oskan cannot see himself making. But Oskan refuses to remember the girl as a bad person.
After all, she was only fourteen.
(The same age Oskan was when…)
(He can't think about that now, either.)
(Not as he watches himself grasp her hand, squeeze it tightly, and run his knife across her throat.)
The recap ends; the Capitolites roar once more. Oskan stands, as if in a trance, as President Ruby Emerald steps onto the stage; she's closely followed by a small girl holding a cushion on which an ornate crown sits. President Emerald steps up to Oskan and offers her hand for him to shake. As he does so, she murmurs, "I can't quite reach your head if you're standing up."
Oskan can't help but chuckle as he sits down again, allowing President Emerald to place the crown on his head. "Congratulations, Oskan," she says. "I look forward to seeing the good you will do for our country."
And somehow, Oskan believes her.
If he looks out the window of the train, Oskan swears he can see District Ten.
The world outside moves quickly, greens and yellows blurring together until they're little more than streaks of color passing by. But every now and then, Oskan catches sight of something that looks familiar – a barn here, a horse there, even some houses that look rather similar to those back home.
Home. What a strange concept. Oskan hasn't used that word in a long, long time.
He sits next to the window, bouncing his leg up and down anxiously as he looks for any sign of the place where he's spent most of his life. Abel offered him the chance to go outside, but Oskan feels too nervous to even stand up, let alone take it. All of the questions from last night – the night before last? – swirl madly in his head, thoughts that he doesn't quite know how to sort out for himself.
The door to the carriage opens, and Abel walks in. "We're almost there," he says, taking a seat in a chair across from Oskan. "You ready?"
"I don't know," Oskan admits. "It's going to be a lot. I'm a bit nervous."
"Most Victors are."
The two fall silent as Oskan turns a question over in his mind. He's not sure if Abel will be able to answer it – Oskan knows very little about the man sitting across from him – nor if it will even make sense to Abel. But Oskan knows that an answer to the question will make a world of difference when he arrives home.
Plus, Abel is still his mentor. Answering questions has to be part of his job.
"Hey Abel?"
"Mm?"
"How do you face the family of someone you were supposed to protect – and failed?"
Abel leans back in his chair, sighing heavily. "I had the same question when I finished my Games."
"Really?"
"Maybe not quite in those words, but yes."
"What happened?"
The man leans forward, placing his elbows on his knees. "If I tell you this story, it probably won't make you feel any better; it's not exactly an answer you necessarily want to hear. But the lessons I learned from it have served me well in the years since. I'll leave it up to you."
Oskan takes a deep breath. "Let me hear it."
Abel nods. "A mature thing to do, I think.
"When I was Reaped for the Games, I was Reaped alongside the younger sister of my partner at the time. The two of us – my partner and I, I mean – had just gone through a rough patch right before the Reaping, so I was expecting things to be awkward when she visited me in the Justice Building. As expected, she was bawling, but through her tears, she kept telling me how much she loved me and how much she wanted me to come home. Before she left, though, she made me swear to do whatever I could to protect her sister. Of course, I said yes. I knew how much her sister meant to her; to put her sister first felt like the best way to show her how much I truly loved her one last time.
"I spent the entire leadup to the Arena working with the girl, just the two of us as allies. She was twelve, and very peculiar; the girl had a way of saying exactly what you needed to hear, even if it wasn't necessarily what you wanted to hear. And I certainly didn't want to hear some of the things she mentioned offhandedly about her sister. Especially not the part about how her sister would oscillate between loving her and hating her at the drop of a hat. I pushed the thought out of my mind, chalking it up to normal tension between sisters; with the Games looming, I had far bigger things to think about.
"On the third day of the Games, the two of us were just settling down to make camp for the night when she ran off to relieve herself. I asked her if she wanted me to go with her, but she insisted that she was big enough to go by herself. I relented. A moment after she left, I heard a scream; she'd run into two members of another alliance who attacked her.
"I reached her quickly and managed to take down one of them, but the other one was far bigger than I was." Abel shudders. "He had me pinned down to the ground when my ally leaped in front of his knife and took the blow right in the stomach. The other boy was so stunned that I was able to scoop her up and run.
"It wasn't until I was a safe distance away that I was finally able to look at the wound. Immediately, I knew there wasn't anything I could do. She'd already lost far too much blood; her breathing was slowing down and she could barely keep her eyes open. I cradled her in my arms as she faded away.
"The last thing she said before she died was, 'Tell my sister I love her.'
"I was crushed.
"I don't really know how I won, to be honest. The boy who almost killed me and the last remaining Career mostly took care of each other in the finale; once one died, the other was in such bad shape that it was easy enough for me to take them out. I spent the entire time after the Games nervous but excited to see her again. I loved her, still, and I had enough money with my Victory that I had more than enough to sustain us for life.
"But when I got off of the train, before I even had the chance to hug my family, I was met with a slap across the face. She blamed me for her sister's death, for not going with the girl at every moment. She told me off in front of the whole crowd, then ran, sobbing to her parents, who gave me dirty looks as they escorted her away. I never saw her again."
Oskan feels his stomach drop. Abel just confirmed every one of his worst fears – and he has to face them twice! But to the boy's surprise, his mentor continues.
"I was stunned, as I'm sure you can guess. But my parents and two of my friends immediately surrounded me, hugging me and telling me how happy they were to see me. They helped clear the crowds and get me to my house in Victors' Village, where I broke down in tears. I felt absolutely awful for not following her that day, or for not pushing her out of the way, or for not doing anything to try to save her; all of the guilt I'd been feeling for weeks had built up and come pouring out. But my friends – both of whom had been her friends too – insisted that they didn't blame me. They reiterated over and over how glad they were that I'd found a way to come home to them. that I hadn't given up even when I so easily could have. It took a while, but eventually, I believed them.
"So did I have trouble when I got home? Absolutely. It was a good few weeks before I felt ready to face the world again, and years before I stopped worrying that I'd run into her around every corner. But I think I know now that if that hadn't been the last straw, there would have been something else, Games or not. The people who stuck by my side were the people who truly loved me, who kept reminding me that I was more than one mistake. And they're still some of my closest friends to this day."
Oskan nods. He feels himself relax a little bit; the weight on his shoulders is still there, but it feels lighter now, somehow. Yet one question still nags him.
"Have you forgiven yourself? For not going with her?"
Abel thinks long and hard before answering. "It depends on the day, honestly. I still see her face sometimes – not her sister's, though, just hers. But for the most part, yes. It took time. A long time. But I did. I do."
Oskan barely has time to ponder Abel's words before the train slows down. Abel stands up, dusts off his pants, and offers a hand to Oskan. "Whatever happens, it's going to be OK. I'll be here for you no matter what."
The boy smiles weakly. "Thank you," he says, taking Abel's hand. "For everything."
"It was my pleasure."
Oskan allows Abel to lead him to the doors as the train station of District Ten rolls into view. It's packed with people of all ages, all there to see him come home. But the boy only has eyes for the clump of people gathered near the front of the crowd: his family.
His whole family.
His heart swells. They all came.
(He can't believe he's excited to see them again. Oskan never thought he'd feel that way.)
The doors of the train slide open; the cheers of the crowd are so loud that he can hardly hear himself think. He manages to take a single step out of the car before he feels someone ram into his stomach.
This time, he's prepared. He reaches his arms under Sena's and lifts her up, hugging her as tightly as he can. "You did it," she whispers through her tears. "You came back."
"I did. And I promise I won't go again."
More and more family members swarm Oskan. The boy's arms grow sore from all the hugging. A few still hang back, but Oskan doesn't mind.
He has an entire life to make things right again, now.
As the crowd disperses, Oskan feels a hand on his shoulder. He turns around to find Abel standing behind him, a wide smile on his face. "As soon as you're ready, Oskan, we can get you settled in Victor's Village."
Oskan looks around. "I'll meet you there," he replies, tears pooling in his eyes. "First, I want to go home."
*hacker voice* we're in, boys.
Welcome, everyone, to my first Victor Exchange fic! For those of you who are unaware - though if you're clicking on this on the day it's posted from the FFN main page, I have a feeling you're at least semi-aware - Victor Exchange is an event we run annually on the SYOT Verses Discord server. Users submit tributes to be randomly assigned to another user to write a single-pov fic for. I've watched for two years so I'm super excited to have the chance to participate this year!
A couple of thank yous are in order. First of all, a humongous thank you to RB and Nell, who really held my hands throughout this fic process. You both encouraged me at every turn even when I was sending six snips in a row - or the same section six times - and I'm so thankful for all of your help in betaing the fic. Second, thank you to Moose who really took on the brunt of organizing this last year and who got to be my partner in crime this year! It's such a pleasure to work alongside you and I can't wait for many more years of VE.
And finally, to Em. Whose child I wrote in her walls. I am so, so glad that I got to have your son to write for, because it finally gave me permission to do something I've been thinking about and debating for a long time. I know that you knew that I had him because I have an awful poker face but I'm hoping that your doubt means you were at least a little surprised, and I really hope you like what I did with him.
I'm also excited to say that this story isn't quite over yet. In a couple of weeks, I hope to post a second fic that tells some fun behind-the-scenes info for this fic, and which will also have an impact on NGDGU. So keep your eyes peeled here for some deleted scenes... And of course, after that, we'll be back to NGDGU intros.
I hope you all enjoy my favorite piece of writing to date. Here's to the next VE ;)
xoxo, xxxi