CHAPTER 33 Promises
Silence would be preferable over the countless cheers echoing outside. Muffled by the large doors, the excited yells from the Capitol people accomplished to make most tributes feel sick. The Tribute's Parade would begin in no time, and no prior victor was truly ready to accept reality so soon. It still felt surreal; going back to their deaths after years of limited safety and peace.
"Crazy Twin One," greeted Peeta with a side smile, which fell as Olive's eyes landed on him. "Remember me?"
Olive flashed him a quick smile and turned to look at Four's chariot. Finnick was supposed to be there, but he was nowhere near at the moment. "Who could forget one of the two Capitol Love Birds?" Her eyes were back on him, giving the boy a questioning look. "May I help you? Lost your chariot? Or maybe your fiancée?"
"Just wanted to say hi." Peeta took his hands to his hips, doing his best to keep his gaze from looking anywhere that wasn't her eyes.
"Katniss isn't liking the whole 'making allies' part of these Games, I assume," said Olive.
"If it's you, she might change her mind." His eyes finally left hers to search for Katniss, who was standing by Twelve's chariot, having a perceptible awkward conversation with none other than Finnick. "And I assume you want to keep him alive, too." He locked eyes with her, not allowing himself to waver. "You don't look like someone who's come here to win. We saw you volunteer, Olive. You're no different from me. Are you?"
"I'm not, but I sincerely hoped I was hiding it better. Guess I'm not." Olive folded her arms, fighting her own reason not to readjust the revealing dress she was wearing. It didn't matter if Cario assured her that was how it was supposed to look. The low cut made her uncomfortable. The long-lasting scars that she had been able to ignore back in her and Finnick's comfortable Victor house devoid of mirrors were revealed for everyone to see. "Promise to help me keep him alive and, well, Johanna, too. She's my friend. I won't give up on her so soon. You promise me this, and you've got yourself an alliance."
"I promise."
"Even after my death," Olive insisted. "We'll protect Katniss in case you die, too. I'll only let her out of my sight once we're on the four or five left." Her eyes didn't leave his as she added, "I promise. Just like I'll keep you safe for as long as I can. Finnick, Johanna, and Katniss will have to fight to survive … but I'd rather have one of them live than none."
Peeta's eyes softened, and his body visibly relaxed, almost as if he had forgotten where they were or what they were about to go through. The sudden silence wasn't awkward. It had a strange sense of trust that both knew they shouldn't be feeling as if they were friends. Friendship, the one thing they could not have once inside the Arena, was blossoming between their mutual understanding and sacrifice.
"I promise," Peeta repeated. "As long as I'm alive, I'll help you keep Finnick and Johanna alive, and protect you, too. Although, I don't think you care all that much about your own well-being."
"Do you?" Olive said in a light tone, causing the boy to snigger as he shook his head. "Thought so. Don't be fooled by how everyone looks right now." She pointed up and down the chariot line. "Anybody here has somebody they would die for. Doesn't matter if they're in or out of the Arena."
"Why is Finnick one of yours?" asked Peeta.
The cheers became louder, sneaking through the sealed doors to drown everyone in the severity of their current reality. Time was ticking by, and the more it did, the closer they were to setting foot back in the Arena. No one let it overtake them publicly, though. The Tribute Parade was the big first impression for all tributes. All except them. The Capitol already knew their names, their stories, and even what kind of meal they preferred. To them, it wasn't a matter of drawing people to feel interested in them; they had to preserve what they already had.
"He's someone I care about," she finally answered, letting the silence settle as they stared, amused, at their loved ones having a highly awkward conversation on Katniss's part. "Go help your wife out. I'll take Finnick away before he can weird her out anymore."
"Good plan," said Peeta, not minding the phrasing at all.
There was something about calling Katniss 'his wife' that warmed his heart. He wasn't oblivious to his feelings, neither had he hidden them from anybody, but part of his mind hoped that one day, perhaps long after their games had been forgotten, they could have been happy. That he could have become a friend that Katniss could rely on at any given moment. Not the safe resort to keep themselves and their families alive.
"Just one question." Olive brushed the invisible dust off her skirt, analysing her perfectly painted nails in search of a spot she could bite without destroying her prep team's work. "Why me? Haymitch must have warned you already about how unstable I might become. I'm Crazy Twin One after all."
"You're the only person we can trust here." With a swift bow, Peeta extended his hand, awaiting her to take it. "Now, sweetheart, if you could do me the favour of coming with me to stop the person you care about from scaring my wife, I would appreciate it. And I'm sure Katniss would, too."
She took his hand, sniggering to herself as Peeta pretended to escort her towards Twelve's chariot. "My, what a fine gentleman you are, Peeta. Did your escort lecture you much?"
"A lot," said Peeta, huffing to his own memories of the countless times he had had to listen to Effie's rants about his or Katniss's manners. "What about you?"
"She gave up halfway through, I think." Olive let go of his hand as their district partners' attention fell on them.
Contrary to Katniss's attempts to keep her eyes above Olive's cleavage, Finnick made no effort to hide his amusement about their Parade costumes. He only stepped back, letting Peeta walk over to his fiancée, while Olive approached him with a mocking smirk. No words were needed to make him stifle a laugh. His wife's expression was all he needed to get an idea of what ran through her mind.
"Mind not staring at me too much, honey?" Finnick said, placing his hands on his hips. "You'll make me self-conscious about this glorious costume."
"Costume," Olive repeated with a laugh. "It's a net. A golden one, but still a net."
"Not much different from ten years ago." He shrugged. "You, however … I might even get jealous."
"My custom is not that great, honey." The cocky smile never died down as she pointed at the net. "Besides, I think it was specially made for you. I doubt anybody else could pull it off." Her eyes travelled to Katniss, who glanced from Olive and Finnick to Peeta, who found the pair's teasing more comic than she did. "Don't you think so, too?"
Katniss blinked twice, lost for words. "Yeah, though, I wouldn't mind trying it out. We could swap costumes."
The warning siren saved her from extending her argument, or the conversation from flowing onto another one she would much less feel comfortable with. Almost huffing, Finnick uttered a quick goodbye and waited for Olive to do the same. They had not much time left until the doors opened, and the Parade began. And they were still nowhere near their chariot.
"I'm sorry that this had to happen to you two," said Olive, trying to give Katniss and Peeta an apologetic smile, which only made Katniss lower her eyes to the floor. "Hey, you have to be strong. Prim's going to be watching this." She showed Peeta a short, compassionate look before Katniss could look up and see what the two were up to. "Don't give up on her so soon."
"Olive, Finnick!" Piscia yelled next to Four's chariot. "What are you two doing? You'll be late!"
"Oh, oh." Finnick and Olive mumbled, turning to look at each other.
"We better leave before we get in trouble." Olive glanced back at the couple. "See you after the Parade."
On the way to Four's chariot, Olive and Finnick stopped by to have a brief chat with Johanna, who was visibly uncomfortable with her costume. Contrary to both of them, she had been dressed from the heels to her neck in a tree outfit. They didn't get to crack any jokes, as the second warning siren appeared through the speakers, urging them to get on their own chariot.
"Can you imagine what would happen if our chariot appeared without us?" asked Olive as they rushed towards Piscia.
"Nothing good," was Finnick's answer.
They got up on their chariot as soon as they arrived, taking deep breaths in and out to calm their hearts. Piscia furrowed her eyebrows and pressed her lips together into a thin line, doing her best not to scold the pair in public. Instead, she raised a finger in the air and gave them a quick nod.
"One minute, alright," mumbled Finnick, turning his head to look at Olive. "Well, ten years later, and still nothing's changed."
"Or more like, we've gone back to how it was," said Olive, giving him a side smile. "Can't say I am. This is a first for me."
"There's nothing worth remembering about that day, anyway." Finnick's eyes lowered, glancing at his hand, enclosed around a sugar cube. "Here," he said, leaving the sweet on the palm. "A sugar cube, just so you'll stop looking at me like that."
"I haven't been looking at you in any weird way." Olive chuckled, tossing the sugar cube in her mouth.
"Funny that you assumed that I meant weird."
"Shut up."
With the last warning siren, the large doors opened. The mechanical sounds overthrew the cheers until District One's chariot was out, waving and smiling at the crowd. People shouted and cheered, some even chorused the names. Although, they only got louder as the chariots appeared, one by one, and travelled to the City Circle.
President Snow's speech didn't repeat over the years, though, somehow, it always felt the same. Even from the position of viewer or mentor, Olive had never seen the man falter or stumble on his words. Sometimes, even it seemed odd that it was so perfect. Obviously, other people wrote it for him. But were they always the same? Or did they only have the same two ideas in mind when trying to justify the brutal show of death that would take place in less than a week?
The Tribute Centre received the twelve chariots right after the anthem played, letting most sigh. To one's dismay, and another's delight, there wouldn't be another event like that until the interviews with Caesar. No cameras, large crowds, or faking for five somewhat peaceful days in which they would try to show off the skills they had maintained over the years, or recently re-learned.
Not having any apparent agreement with Finnick, Johanna decided it was her turn to tease the new victors. She took off her parade outfit in front of them while doing small talk, mostly with Katniss, who was the most uncomfortable with her presence.
Without exchanging a word, Finnick and Olive walked over to their friend, pretending to be mindlessly waiting for the lifts with Johanna and the couple from Twelve. They stayed put, watching the number shown on the little screen over the lift descend while listening to Johanna's ramble.
"Isn't my costume awful? My stylist's the biggest idiot in the Capitol. Our tributes have been trees for forty years under her. Wish I got Cinna. You look fantastic."
"Yeah, he's been helping me design my own clothing line. You should see what he can do with velvet," Katniss replied, trying to hide her awkwardness with the small talk by glancing either at Peeta or the lifts.
"I have. On your tour. That strapless number you wore in District Two? The deep blue one with the diamonds? So gorgeous I wanted to reach through the screen and tear it right off your back." Johanna let her dress drop to the floor, leaving her in only a pair of green slippers. "That's better."
"Poor dress. What did it ever do to you?" Olive asked playfully, watching as Johanna showed her a bitter smile and kicked the dress away.
"Be horrible and uncomfortable," was Johanna's answer.
A ding sound cut Johanna's whines short. The doors of the lift opened, and Katniss and Peeta walked in immediately, closely followed by Johanna. Olive and Finnick stepped in after their friend, admiring Katniss's uncomfortable expression.
The ride to Four's floor was short, yet somehow Olive managed to engage in a conversation with Katniss, who was grateful for the distraction, even if it was brief. Johanna had done nothing but talk to Peeta, and it was clearly annoying her in a way that perhaps not even she noticed, though Olive did.
"If looks could kill." Olive raised her eyebrows at Katniss, who had been giving side glances at Johanna for the entire ride. Now, Katniss had them on her, analysing, almost offended by her comment. "Hey, don't shoot those daggers at me, missy. I didn't do anything."
Finnick uttered a quick goodbye to Johanna while Olive simply waved. They stepped off on the fourth floor, encountering the two Avoxes that would serve them for the next few days. Contrary to the usual pair, the Avoxes were both girls; one with white hair despite her natural black hair beginning to show, and another one with brown hair not tinted or changed in any typical Capitol fashion way. Both had their eyes on the floor, not needing to approach the doors to get them to swing open as Finnick and Olive stepped onto the flat.
No important subject was brought up at all during supper. Even Piscia and Cario, who were the two Olive less expected to be that compressive, tried to joke around while completely evading to mention any talk about the Arena or the Games. They knew those kinds of conversations would have to take place soon, but not that same night. Olive and Finnick needed rest, more so mentally than physically. And, as long as they were in the Capitol, they would never have it. Though, it hurt nobody to try.
At midnight, Olive found herself looking in the mirror again. It didn't matter how long she stared, the uneasy feeling never left her mind. Her body had become nothing more than cosmetic surgeries piled up to form the perfect Capitol-kind of body standard for women. To her, however, it was horrendous. Not for the scars, or the exaggerated parts of her body, but for the hopes the Capitol itself had granted her and then shattered in no time.
She could remember perfectly well the days when she could look at herself in the mirror without disdain, just the foreign feeling of lack of belonging. The body she had before the transition was like a stranger's, but the one she saw in her reflection wasn't a woman's, nor a man's. It was a product. Something that, if it weren't for her mind, would have been exploited to the point of selling her to unknown Capitol people in exchange for her family's lives.
Her hand pressed against the glass, covering her face's reflection. After months of living together in her new mirror-empty house with Finnick, it was impossible not to understand his choice. Who would want to look at a product made by the Capitol? She could hardly have a glimpse of her own body without feeling disgusted. If she had ever had to see Finnick look at himself like she stared at her own reflection, she would have smashed the mirror herself. Not a single one would have survived her rage. Finnick didn't deserve to suffer like that. Nobody did.
"Stop, please," said Finnick, standing by the bathroom's door. "Don't do this to yourself."
She slid down her hand, but her eyes weren't on her reflection anymore. Olive stared into Finnick's eyes, trying to accept that the countdown had already started. From that day on, any interaction, any kiss or laugh, could be the last one she could enjoy freely. They were only days away from reliving their nightmares. Days away from restarting to use the primary instincts — fight or flight — to survive.
Kill or be killed, Olive thought.
"I miss our house," she said, keeping her expressionless face to avoid her eyes from tearing up. "I miss Annie. And Gianna. And Theo. My dad. Angel. Librae. Clem. Muscida … I want to go back." Tears won the battle, bottling up in her eyes as she added, "I don't want to die, Finn. I really don't."
"You don't have to—" he attempted to assure her with whatever motivational speech he could come up with at the moment.
"But I do," Olive cut him short. "If I survived, and you died … I would never forgive myself. It's not that I want to die, I just don't want to live hating myself." An involuntary dry chuckle left her lips. "If I remember you, that is. I could forget again. And then what? Who will I be? What will there be left of me? A body made by the Capitol and an empty house?"
"What do I do if you die and I survive, then?" asked Finnick, holding her hands to guide her out of the bathroom and far away from any mirrors. "Just, please, let's leave that talk for later, alright? Now, we go to bed and sleep until Piscia comes yelling tomorrow morning."
They sat at the edge of the bed, hearing Caesar talk, but not listening to know what it was about. There was no need. If it wasn't about the Parade, it would be about the Games in another way. Either saying how excited he was to see the Quarter Quell, or how sad it would be to lose so many people that they had grown to love over the years. A love that, in the Capitol's view, was reciprocated, which couldn't be further from the truth.
"I want to make them mad," said Olive in a low tone. "If I'm going to die, at least I don't want to do it like another one of his playthings."
"You won't die," Finnick assured her. "I won't let it happen."
"I won't let you die earlier." Olive smiled softly, getting lost in his eyes. "Let's see who doesn't get to keep their promise, shall we?"
Finnick showed her a brief smile, placing his arm over her shoulders to bring her closer. They could spend hours like that, staring at the wall with only the other's presence to keep them company. But they knew they had to go to sleep. Mere hours were left until training began, and, as much as they would like to ignore it, they needed to attend to, at the very least, make allies. Although, secretly, both of them already had their own pre-made plans in that aspect.
"We'll both get to keep our promises," Finnick mumbled, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear.
He watched her peaceful, sleeping face, glad to see that no nightmares were striking again. She was safe. As long as he could hold her hand and hear her breathe, Olive would be fine.
"I love you, Liv." Finnick lay down and kissed her head, closing his eyes to beg for sleep to appear.