CHAPTER 20
The DealHad silence ever been that vile?
Not many times one could meet the country's president. At least, it was not something Olive had ever thought would happen. However, there he stood, right in front of her, twirling a glass of wine with his fingers. His smile, thin and threatening, stripped her of any line of thought that wasn't related to her family's well-being.
Olive's skin crawled at the thought of the man, Coriolanus Snow, taking advantage of his power to hurt, or even murder, her family. The fear was consuming, though anger made its presence known with every thought. Her hands, trembling at her sides, held onto each other desperately. No air reached her lungs, forcing her to take shallow breaths masked by a nervous smile.
Somewhere in the non-verbal conversation that they were having, President Snow found something amusing, as he chuckled softly and drank a sip of his wine. His eyes pierced her soul. Or that's how she felt. Sadly, his words weren't any better.
"A pleasure to meet you at last, Mister Cresta." He brought the glass to his lips again. "Excuse me. Miss Cresta." His lips curved upwards, almost mockingly, as he corrected his previous mistake. "How's your family?"
Olive took a deep breath, forced the smile to stay on her face, and replied. "They're great, sir. Thank you for your concern."
"That's good to hear," he said. "We wouldn't want anything to happen to them, would we? Such a loving family."
"Of course not, sir." Olive shook her head immediately. "I would do anything for my family."
President Snow contained a chuckle, and simply let his smile widen. "That's touching."
He motioned her to walk with him, which she immediately did. The party in the president's house was in full bloom. Camera crew, victors, Sponsors, Capitol people, everyone was there, or at least those invited. They passed by a couple tables full of food, from which Olive hadn't touched or had a bite, yet. It wasn't as if she could with the situation she was in. Deep down, she knew she would probably not eat again until the next day; her stomach wouldn't allow her to do it without puking.
Next to a table filled with glasses of different kinds of liquids, President Snow turned to exchange his now empty glass for two. One he gave to Olive, the other he kept. She glanced at the substance inside the glass dubiously, but there was nothing she could do except drink it when the president silently toasted to her.
"You are a very interesting individual, Miss Cresta." He said as he lowered his glass. "Unfortunately for me, you're not the sort of interesting that can bring me direct financial remuneration. As much as your story is fascinating and fresh, it appears that the victors preceding you still keep the Capitol's gaze on them."
Olive barely kept hold of the glass of the unknown substance, which she despised after only tasting it once. Despite how badly she wanted to be hopeful, she knew it couldn't be that easy; not when she was talking to every Victor's living nightmare.
"What may I be of assistance, sir?" She asked.
President Snow nodded. A chuckle made him cough into a handkerchief. He hid it, but not quickly enough. Olive's eyes had caught a disturbing colour in the handkerchief, right where the president had coughed. Blood.
"Clever; that's what you are, Miss Cresta. Way too clever." He locked eyes with her, making a shiver run down her spine. "For now, I can just advise you to carry out the duties of a victor — an amnesiac victor, that is."
Olive drank from her glass, trying to excuse her need to gulp her anxiety with the drink. Plucking up the courage from unknown sources, she lowered the glass and spoke confidently. "I would gladly do so, sir. Although, I do worry about my family. I hope that carrying out my duties won't affect them in any way."
With a sly smile, he raised his glass once again, inviting her to cheer. "I doubt that should be a problem, Miss Cresta. I believe that your duties won't affect them in any case, though, perhaps, the lack of them could possibly bring some misfortunes their way."
"Then I shall not neglect my duties." Olive's expression was serious.
She didn't want to have a fake smile present on her face when the man right in front of her was threatening her family, nor would it convey how strongly she meant those words. As long as she had time to note it down in her diary without forgetting on the way, Olive Navin Cresta would never ignore such a blatant warning. Her family's lives weren't something she was willing to play around with.
President Snow's eyes went to the other end of the room. Right across from them, the camera crew was focusing on Finnick, who was talking to a few Capitol women, all ogling him. His cocky smile was perfect. No one could ever tell what was really going through his head. Or so he thought until his eyes landed on Olive's, which stared at him with a mix of concern and sadness.
"Lovely boy, isn't he?" President Snow said, driving Olive's attention back to him. "It's regrettable that his popularity doesn't allow him to be seen with another person as a potential couple. That would bring a lot of attention to both of them. Don't you agree, Miss Cresta?"
After taking a deep breath, Olive nodded. "Yes, sir. I don't see how Finnick Odair could ever find a suitable potential partner between the sea of admirers he has."
A Capitol couple approached the president, starting a small talk Olive felt out of. Excusing herself appropriately, and only after President Snow had given her a dismissive wave of his hand, she walked off towards nowhere in particular. The glass was still in her hands as she paced around, trying not to make obvious her anxiety by pretending to be debating what to eat.
"Are you OK? What did he want?" Finnick's whisper, for the first time since she could remember, was anything but welcomed.
"I'm sorry, Finnick. I'll tell you later. Please, just stay away from me until the party's over," she whispered back, only glancing in his direction once before looking back down at the food.
Out of the corner of his eye, Finnick saw something. Olive didn't see what it was, but it had to be threatening enough for her friend to change his posture to one that demonstrated his cocky Capitol behaviour perfectly.
His hand rested on the table as he leaned his body towards it. The Capitol smile, which had silently increased since their brief interaction, was disturbing in Olive's opinion. She didn't like the Finnick she saw at all. It made him look fake, almost like plastic. His hand gripped the table so hard, she guessed that, despite how used he was to the act, he still couldn't control his anger towards it.
"My oh my." Finnick laughed loudly, as if she had just said the funniest joke he had ever heard. "Navin Cresta rebelling against her mentor? Well, I've got to say, that's shocking." He raised his hands in surrender. "Alright, I'll leave you alone if that's what you want."
Olive didn't dare to raise her eyes to her mentor as he walked away. She knew that if she did, she would only try to stop him. Because, even if she knew it had been all an act, her heart still ached for unknown reasons. From the change of name to his strange, over-confident and exaggerated behaviour, it all was too much for her.
If she could make a wish, she would ask for the night to be over.
Eventually, slower than any of the victors would have preferred, the night did end, and Piscia rounded everyone before departing towards the train. As the doors closed behind them, Olive turned to talk to Finnick, but he only brushed past her to his room. No goodnight wish. Not even the slightest word that acknowledged her existence.
Hurt, Olive wished the remaining three victors goodnight and walked to her room. The door seemed colder than ever, as if nothing good would be expecting her on the other side of it. And, perhaps, there wasn't. The bed, bathroom, and wardrobe didn't make a room welcoming in any way.
Footsteps stopped behind her, and Librae's hushed voice forced her to listen to Olive's mentor's words. "Piscia can't know either. Not now that you have a deal with President Snow, at least. He's just looking out for you. That's all he does, really."
"I know," she whispered back, opening the door to her room. "Thank you, Librae. Goodnight."
The door closed as Olive directed herself to the bed, where she plumped down; too tired to keep a composure no one was near, nor would care enough to judge her. Her fingers traced the sheets aimlessly, trying to strip her worries from overpowering her mind. It soon became a unique pattern, which she continued repeating until her door slid open.
Propelling herself up on her elbows, Olive turned her head to look at the door. She only got up from the bed once she realised who it was. Finnick Odair, who was fidgeting with her diary in his hands.
"Did you just come to give it back?" She asked. "Or can we talk now?"
He sighed, raising the diary in the air with only one hand. "Had to give this back, but we need to talk, too."
"Sure, but can we?" Olive took a step closer, folding her arms on her chest as a bitter chuckle escaped her lips. "Finnick Odair in my room at night. Well, can you imagine if Piscia got to know about that? I wonder how many disappointed ladies there would be out in the Capitol?"
Finnick chuckled; a genuine chuckle. "You wouldn't snitch on me, would you?" He raised his eyes to look at her, seeing as her lips curved up into a sweet smile.
"I'll have to think about that." She walked to him, engulfing him in a hug that forced him to toss the diary gently towards the bed, before wrapping his arms around her. "For now, I'm just happy you're here. Talking to President Snow was horrible. He threatened my family. He threatened you, too, or well, in a more roundabout way . . . It was as if he was telling me not to . . . OK, it will sound silly, but, basically, that I shouldn't try going out with you."
"Why would that be silly?"
Olive's grip on her friend faltered, but he didn't let her go. "I don't know." She furrowed her brow. "I mean, it's not like it sounds very believable, does it? The Capitol's Darling and . . . what? The forgetful victor?" Despite Finnick not being able to see her expression, she still rolled her eyes as she added with a sarcastic tone. "What a pair. Couple goals, I'd say."
"I think the word you're looking for is 'amnesiac'. So, technically, it would be the Capitol's Darling and the Amnesiac." Finnick chuckled. "Yeah, I agree they do not sound compatible at all, but that's the thing. They're not supposed to be. Now, Finnick and Olive? I think they're allowed to do what they want—"
"As long as no one's looking." Olive took a step back, forcing him to let go. "I have to tell you about that, but I need to write it in the diary, too. Can you give it back, please?"
"Oh, yeah. Of course," he muttered, letting the diary in her hands as they sat on the edge of the bed. "Did you write anything yet?"
She opened the diary directly on the following page to the one she had written earlier in the day. "You could say I did. Not gonna lie, it was a long rant. When I forget, I'll probably laugh at my old self."
"Don't say that." Despite Olive's attempts to lighten up the mood, Finnick didn't allow it. Not when she was clearly masking her concerns in front of him. "Don't just assume you'll forget."
"I might, and that's all that really takes for me to worry." Olive's eyes left the diary to focus on him. "I forgot two weeks today. Next time, who knows? Three? A month? Two? A year? You know better than I do what the doctors said. If this keeps going, I could forget my family. You. The other victors. My home . . . Finnick, I could forget who I am."
He sighed, his eyes travelling from hers to the diary. "If only I could do something to help."
"Well, lucky for you. You can." Olive chuckled. She raised her arm, only to let it fall on his shoulders. "Just be there for me. Find as much patience as you can find, because I'll be a handful. Well, you know that by now, don't you?"
"You're not a handful." Finnic shook his head as he sniggered. "Although, I guess that, if such an unlikely scenario were to happen, I'll have to get ready to listen to each question that goes through that head of yours."
She took the pen out of the first page, ready to write down her deal with President Snow on the second one. "Good luck. If I shout, hit, or simply ignore you, I'm sorry about my future self actions."
"I'll tell her that while she's shouting at me, let's see how that plays out." His eyes landed on the first word written so far on the page. "So you really have a deal. We were hopeful, thinking that maybe your condition would save you from that."
As much as Olive wanted to shut off all memories of her conversation with President Snow, she knew it could have been worse. Way worse. The deal she had seemed too lenient on the president's part, but, possibly, he hadn't found what he could do with her yet. Perhaps he only needed a few months, or until the next victor, to find something for her to do in exchange for her family's safety.
"I do have a deal," she breathed out. "But it's not like yours. I think he doesn't know what to do with me yet. He . . . he said that he couldn't sell me. Apparently, the Capitol has no interest in someone who might not remember them or anything at all from one moment to another."
The pen was pressed against the paper harshly. Olive had no idea what else to write. She had explained what they talked about, why sticking to the deal was important, and how she should act next to her friend. What else was there to write?
"What do you have to do, then?"
She lifted the pen and moved on to continue writing. "Play my part as The Amnesiac."
"That's vague." He pointed out.
"So is all the conversation I had with him, and I still understood every little hidden meaning behind his words." She smiled. "I'm fine with it, Finnick. Don't worry."
Finnick chuckled, taking her arm off his shoulders to hug and force her to lie down with him. "How about you look at me? It might help me believe you."
Olive huffed playfully, closing the diary and leaving it aside before turning to stare directly into his eyes. "I'm fine, Finnick. Do. Not. Worry."
He pursed his lips, trying to contain a smile from forming. "Yeah, still not convincing. Try again."
"No, thanks." She chuckled, though it didn't last long. "What about you? Are you OK?"
It took Finnick a couple of seconds for his mind to process the question. He blinked and tried his hardest to keep his eyes on her. "Yeah, perfectly fine."
Olive got closer to him, hugging him as she could while still laying down. She rested her head against his chest, feeling as he left his own drop on top of hers, pressing his lips against her hair.
"It's alright if you're not. We can be psychologically, and probably emotionally, unstable together."
"Sounds like a plan," he muttered against her head, kissing it softly, so Olive wouldn't notice. "But not for today. Right now, I would rather just fall asleep like this and wake up tomorrow at Four. That's all I want for now."
The kiss on her head brought a smile to Olive's face, though she decided not to point it out in any way. If, for whatever reason, Finnick had done that just to reassure himself, she would play as if she hadn't noticed. However, she had to admit that taking her own little revenge on him was too tempting to pass up.
"Alright, off to sleep then. Good kids should go to bed early." She chuckled, propelling herself up with her elbow to kiss him on the cheek. "Now, if you don't mind, I would prefer to sleep properly on the bed."
He stared at her blankly, then pulled her down, making her head fall on top of his arm. "There you go, your pillow, damsel — Or should it be damsel? 'Cause, if I'm a kid, what are you? A toddler?"
"Yeah, a very tall toddler." She raised her head, finding a beautifully odd gleam in Finnick's eyes as he laughed at her comeback. "Damsel? Well, not so much, am I? I still have a long process to go through, and I can't even begin until the next victor gets out of hell. So far, I'm only a non-damsel in distress."
"Waiting for a knight in shining armour to come to rescue you?" Finnick questioned mockingly.
"No, those are overrated." Olive rolled her eyes playfully, feigning to be honestly exhausted from hearing about those types of fairy tales. "Really, when Theo was eight, he wouldn't shut up about knights in shining armour. I've had enough of them for a while."
"Should I get out, then?" He sniggered.
Olive raised her eyebrows, amused at his words. "You're so close to hitting on yourself." Her lips curved into a cocky smile, which Finnick was gazing at in anticipation. "What is it? Does Finnick Odair need no man to rescue him?"
"Exactly. I can take care of my own rescue. Thank you very much."
"Oh, what a shame. And here I was thinking about trying to save you." Olive winked playfully. "Let's just go to sleep. Staying awake until late is affecting our heads."
"Of course, my saviour." Finnick brought her closer to him, using his free hand to reach the pillows, which weren't far away, and pull one under his head. The other he gave to Olive, which she ended up hugging. "Is my arm that cosy?"
A soft laugh escaped her lips before she could control it. "Yes. Now, shush."
Both closed their eyes, not feeling the need to add anything else as they welcomed sleep. To Finnick, however, it didn't come as easily as it did for Olive, who was surprisingly fast asleep. He was tired, exhausted even. So why couldn't he keep his eyes closed? Even if he knew nightmares would attack him, as they always did, why not give up already?
The soft pressure against his stomach gave it away. Between him and one of the few people alive he truly loved, there stood the pillow. Instinctively, he went to take it out of the way, but his rationality soon kicked in. He couldn't do that. Not while Olive was asleep. He had already pushed his luck by suggesting to sleep hugging each other. He wouldn't risk it any further.
"Fondness, huh?" He mumbled, analysing Olive's every feature. "How wrong I was, Olive. To be fair, I still can't describe it, but fondness doesn't cut it. I know that much."
"Finnick, no one falls asleep that quickly."