The Capitol mob, though persistent, accomplished no change, as expected.
Olive had watched part of it from Four's floor. People crowded outside the Training Centre, screaming and yelling incoherent words that lost all meaning in the sea of different claims the mob was making. There was no cohesion or agreement among the people present, nor a general sense of what they wanted or how to accomplish it. In the rebellious sense, the Capitol was a failure.
By the time the sun peeked once more over the horizon, nothing had changed. The stylist still arrived on all twelve floors. The tributes got forced to say goodbye to their mentors. And the individual Hovercraft waited patiently for each one of them on the roof. In any case, the longer they took to get to the Arena, the shorter the time they would have to prepare themselves.
From the get-go the loser had been decided, and not even a Capitol mob could alter that with some half-assed plan.
In the Launch Room, Olive sat on a sofa, dressed and prepared to get sent into the Arena. Her earring was in her hands instead of her ear, clutched between her palms despite the pricking sensation near her index finger. She didn't care. As long as it didn't bleed, a little sting was the least of her problems.
"Cario," she said, needing to stop hearing her stylist's footsteps travel the room faster than what could be humanly possible, "the outfit. What do you think?"
His eyes travelled from her crouched figure to the launcher, then down to his hands, where they stayed for a while, as if he needed to think his words through. "Little protection from cold or water." He stayed quiet for a second, stopping his pacing to sit down next to her. "Sun most likely."
"OK." Olive nodded, letting another silence settle for a few minutes before coming up with something else to distract herself with. "About the dress from last night."
"Did you like it?" Cario asked.
"I loved it," she replied. "More so when it went up in blue flames, you liar."
"It wasn't flames," he replied with a soft laugh. "It was a simple light. Don't be so dramatic."
"Yeah, whatever." She huffed playfully and placed her chin on her intertwined hands. "Why did you do it, though? Getting rid of all the Capitol decorations… What was that for?"
Cario lost his sight as the silence overtook their conversation for a short while. "You deserved a proper wedding gown." His eyes finally found hers. "I wish I could have seen you wear it for your wedding. Maybe in a new life."
"Or a parallel universe." Olive smiled. "Thank you, Cario, for everything." Her smile died down, and her eyes forced themselves to stay on his as she ventured into a not-so-well-welcomed topic. "If I die out there, at any point, make sure my family keeps the earring, alright? I don't want to be buried with it. Annie must have it. If not, she'll just be 'the other half' for the rest of her life. I want her to be herself, not 'Crazy Twin Two'."
"Are you sure that's what she wants?" asked Cario. "To become a sole individual after so long sharing everything with you… Is that what you think she wants?"
"She's too kind-hearted to want that, but the chances that I'll die are high," replied Olive. "Team, that's how she described us six years ago. Each other's halves. Tell me, Cario, what hope is there for someone who's lost their other half? What prospect of life could a person, whom all their life has only thought of themselves as a part of a 'we' and now has to accept the lonely 'I', have? To live a miserable life… I'd rather have Annie not live at all." She chuckled bitterly, tightening her grasp on her mother's keepsake. "Big talk for someone who did everything to get her sister to survive the Hunger Games despite knowing how shitty her life would get, huh?"
"I—"
The voice announcing the time for launching interrupted Cario's unsure answer, though it didn't stop Olive from spending a couple of seconds just to add two simple phrases to her previous rambling. "Will you please tell her? Take it as my last wish."
"I will," Cario answered with conviction. "Be careful, Olive."
She stood in the centre of the circular metal plate, her earring finally on and awaiting the moment the countdown would end. "I'll try."
Silence settled for the last time as the platform began to rise, forcing Olive to wave as her only way of saying goodbye. Up until she was surrounded by darkness, where it all seemed to stop.
The surface under her feet shook, letting her know that it was still moving. However, in the darkness, nothing felt like it should. It could be due to her worries, the lack of memories about her previous Games, her raging heartbeat, or just a combination of all of them. She only knew that she wanted it to end. It didn't matter how. The darkness in itself wasn't the scary part, the thought of the next minutes was. Whether she died in the bloodbath or not.
Memories sprung back to life, though none of which she had forgotten previously. Her taunting and maddening of the Gamemakers were the most present, as if she was receiving a punishment for her cockiness and lack of thought.
There was only one thing that kept her on her feet. Finnick. No matter how quickly the Gamemakers would want to get rid of her, he would be too far away or even on the other side of the Cornucopia when it happened.
Finnick wouldn't see her die, and that was all Olive cared for.
The pedestal rose to the light, stopping once it reached the top. Her sight was still blinded by the blazing sun, but the sensation around her feet needed no double-checking to know what it was.
Water, like waves that taunted her by caressing her feet; a predator ready to drag its prey to the pit of despair.
It was like a small sea, with its own waves that broke at a faint line of sand far away from the Cornucopia, which was being encircled by a vast forest. Although, contrary to her first thoughts, the tributes had no need to swim for a long time since, to their side—either left or right—they had a piece of land that travelled all the way from the Cornucopia to the sand. Of course, if there wasn't, it would be too obvious that the Arena had been specially designed to favour those in District Four, the only ones that could, supposedly, swim like fishes.
Olive's heartbeat picked at the sight of water, and it only increased as she analysed how far the land was. She could never reach it before her land-mate. In fact, it would be a miracle if she could even jump into the water willingly. Without Finnick by her side, it all seemed hopeless.
No doubt was present in her mind. That was President Snow's and the Gamemakers' revenge. Her name would flash at night alongside her image. Annie would receive the earring. And, hopefully, her family would find a moment to bury her body in the Meadow, the place that had seen her grow, and would now see her dead.
Nevertheless, it wasn't over yet. The Capitol had pushed into the pit, but she hadn't found rock bottom yet. She was still falling. And she would for a while, because she wasn't alone. Claudius Templesmith was just saying his signature phrase, 'Let the Hunger Games begin', when her eyes travelled from her right to her left. No land, no enemy on a pedestal, but still a baffling sight.
"Olive?" said Finnick, turning to stare back at her.
Never, not once in seventy-five years of Hunger Games, had tributes from the same district been placed right next to one another. Nobody else, just a single pair.
Spectator-wise, the situation would seem like an unfair advantage. Not only was the Arena thought to be beneficial for a District Four tribute, but the pair were already placed right next to one another. It was clear who the Gamemakers wanted to win, and the couple knew it better than anybody else.
With Olive still afraid of the water, Finnick was being forced into making a decision: either he stayed to help the person he loved and died with her, or he left her behind and won the Quarter Quell.
"It's OK," Olive mouthed, hoping for Finnick to understand. "Go."
Their allies weren't near in the slightest. Olive hadn't seen them anywhere. Only Katniss was somewhat close, and it was clear that, while the girl wouldn't oppose an alliance with them, she wouldn't go out of her way to save someone for no reason. They were in the Hunger Games, after all. Whoever couldn't play along with the Gamemakers' will was of no use.
She could only do one thing; make sure Finnick would follow the plan.
He, as expected, didn't want to. "I won't leave you behind."
"You have to." As soon as the words left her mouth, the countdown was over, and the gong overtook the silence.
Finnick doubted glancing from her to the weapons in the Cornucopia.
"Please, Finnick. Nothing will happen to me."
It was a lie. They both knew that much, but he couldn't go against it. He couldn't protect her, nor take the time to help her all the way to the land, where they would only be vulnerable once again. His hands balled into fists as Olive's lips curved into a sympathetic smile; two opposite reactions for the same action.
"Be careful, please."
He dove into the water, showing his innate swimming skills by arriving at the Cornucopia before anyone else despite his late departure.
With sweaty palms and an annoying loud heartbeat, Olive decided to do something besides stand and watch. She first got on her knees, gripping the platform as if that would save her trembling legs from slipping and making her fall into the water. Cannons didn't roar, nor had many people reached the Cornucopia. Finnick and Katniss were gone from all sight, and all she could see was the different people running around, or trying to propel themselves to shore.
She exhaled, trying to gain courage as she slid herself off the side carefully, submerging her body bit by bit. First her feet, then her legs, and, once she got to her waist, she stopped. Her tight grasp of the metallic platform wasn't the only thing keeping her afloat. Her jumpsuit belt was a floating device. It wouldn't get her far, but as long as she kicked her feet with all her might, she should be able to reach the land at some point.
"Olive!"
To her surprise, the shout came from Katniss, who ran through the land closest to her platform with the bow ready to shoot. No words were exchanged between them, but Olive didn't need anything more than to see Katniss' distressed face clearly to understand.
Danger was approaching.
Before she could try to get away, a hand pulled her down. The belt was of no help against someone's full strength. Water got in her eyes and agape mouth, drowning a shriek in the worrisome silence that invaded the sea. There were no shouts or grunts. Not even her eyes could see her attacker properly. Only her touch worked, letting her feel the hands around her neck applying all the force they could as the bottom of the sea claimed ownership of their bodies, drawing them nearer to it and further from the pedestal.
Sudden brute force wouldn't work there. Her movements were too slow, like a drowsy child waking up from a nap. She needed to think of something quick, or she would drown.
The belt turned out to be helpful in a way, since her attacker had to fight against it to keep themselves from rising to the surface and losing all the advantage that they had won. Her feet stopped kicking, and she stopped squirming, making the tribute hesitate for a second. Enough time to use her legs to kick their stomach with enough force to make them drift away from one another.
With her neck free from the attacker's hands, Olive's first thought was to reach the surface. She kicked her feet with all her might, and let the belt do its work, but the attacker was persistent in following her. Her hands had just managed to grab a hold of her platform when a hand pulled her by the leg, keeping her from raising her head above water.
Fuck whatever Snow and the Gamemakers have planned, she thought, while trying to push herself up with her hands and free leg. I won't die here.
A warm breeze hit her face like a knife, but Olive couldn't be more grateful for it. Between raspy coughs and straining every muscle in her body, she used her last ounces of strength to lift her stomach onto the platform.
The hand on her leg disappeared, letting her turn around, just in time for her attacker to jump out of the water, trying to keep their advantage by starting a hand-to-hand fight. Olive didn't let them. She brought her fist to her chest, and swung directly at the tribute's head, sticking them with her elbow, followed by a clean hit to their throat. The attacker was left gasping, though not for long, since an arrow appeared on their chest the next second, draining the light out of their eyes until there was none.
"Olive!"
Katniss made the attempt to jump into the water, but Finnick, who arrived with Peeta — both running and out of breath — left the weapons he had collected on the ground and dove into the water.
"Liv! Are you alright?" He brought Olive into a hug as soon as he reached her side, making her trembling grip on the platform divert to him. "You must have been so scared. I'm here now, you'll be fine. It will all be OK."
"You're alive," she said with a trembling voice. "Oh, thank God, you're alright."
"You didn't think I would leave you behind, did you?" he asked, rubbing her back comfortingly. "Come on, we have to go. We're unprotected here."
With Katniss and Peeta on the look-out, Finnick tried to take the least time possible to help Olive get to the land. Her entire body was trembling, her eyes were red and irritated, and her breathing wasn't all that better. The bruises that had begun to form around her neck gave him an idea of what had happened; of what he had failed to protect her from.
Despite how much he wanted to save her from even more agonising time in the water, the distance to their allies couldn't be shortened, nor sped up the time. Although, once they were both on land, Olive didn't seem to get any better. She accepted the extra bow and arrows from Katniss without a question, and let Peeta guide them into the jungle, but she said nothing. Not a word left her mouth, even when her ragged breathing became all he could hear.
"Okay, hold up," Finnick called, faking to be tired himself, and making the couple from Twelve stop as well. "Hold up."
Olive slumped to the ground, taking a hand to her neck, now covered in a uniform bruise that travelled all the way from one side to the other. Neither Katniss nor Peeta fought against the call to rest. However, Katniss didn't like the idea of sitting down all that much and opted to check their surroundings from the top of a tree.
"How's your neck doing, Olive?" asked Peeta out of pure concern.
She simply smiled at him, unsure whether talking would be a good idea after almost being choked to death underwater.
"Don't talk if it hurts," said Finnick. "Better rest your voice for a day, or it'll only get worse."
She raised her eyebrows at him, as if trying to say, "Worse?"
"Yeah, so you better behave." Finnick turned his head to the young boy, perplexed at his relatively new allies' interaction. "Peeta can do the talking. He's good at that."
"I'll take that as a compliment," Peeta said, showing an exaggerated proud smile just as Katniss descended from the tree.
Nobody spoke, and neither did she. Her eyes were wide, though not in fear. It was like an endless processing of images was running through her head, haunting her thoughts before she could even decide which emotion she should be feeling.
"What's going on down there, Katniss? Have they all joined hands? Taken a vow of non-violence? Tossed the weapons in the sea in defiance of the Capitol?" asked Finnick while pushing himself to his feet, raising one of his tridents into a defensive position.
"No," Katniss replied.
"No," Finnick repeated. "Because whatever happened in the past is in the past. And no one in this arena was a victor by chance." His eyes landed on Peeta for a moment. "Except maybe Peeta."
As if his words were meant to be a compliment, Katniss's expression relaxed. There was something only they understood; some kind of connection that led them to know what the other was thinking. It was impressive to see it in action, since Olive could only think of the many alternative hidden meanings Finnick's words could have, and Peeta kept his confused expression. They didn't dare to question whatever unspoken deal Katniss and Finnick were making at the moment, though they didn't allow things to drift into any possible violent path by diverting the subject.
"So how many are dead?" Peeta asked while Olive placed a hand on Finnick's arm to help herself up.
"Hard to say," Katniss answered right away, as if unfazed by the pair's intervention. "At least six, I think. And they're still fighting."
"Let's keep moving. We need water," Peeta said in a heartbeat, not leaving any time for the uncomfortably wary atmosphere to settle again.
"Better find some soon," said Finnick, not detaching his eyes from Katniss while still keeping his attention on Olive's hand, which remained on his arm despite already being on her feet. "We need to be undercover when the others come hunting us tonight."
"Alright." Katniss's eyes snapped away to glance at Olive, or rather, her neck, though, just as quickly, they landed back on Finnick. "Maybe we'll have better luck on the other side. Find a spring or something."
But the other side never came. They were going up the hill with Peeta on the lead when it all happened. Katniss, from the back of the group, tried to cry something, like a warning that contained Peeta's name on it, when the boy's machete collided against an invisible metallic wall.
There was a loud sound, like a sharp zap, and, as if it were a mirage, the trees were gone—replaced by plaques of some strange material. Then Peeta flung back, bringing Finnick and Olive to the ground.
"Peeta?" Katniss cried.
Amidst her blurry sight, Olive watched Katniss rush to the boy, afraid that he was dead. There was no movement, nor any sound, and they knew. Peeta's heart had stopped.
"Olive," Finnick mumbled, making his way to her before noticing the weeping seventeen-year-old by their side. "Peeta?"
"Help him." The words ripped the back of Olive's throat like a knife, but the pain was the last thing she could think about. "Finnick, you—"
"I know." He pushed Katniss out of the way, mumbling a quick "let me", before concentrating on the reanimating process; checking bones, ribs, and spine first, providing air to the lungs and cardiac massage later. "Come on, Peeta… Olive, help me with the jumpsuit."
Olive ran to his side, trying to contain her own ragged breathing under normal levels to not have a coughing fit. With little regard for Katniss, who was clearly mistaking their actions for an attack against Peeta's life, she grabbed a hold of Peeta's jumpsuit collar and pulled down the zip until his abdomen, while Finnick tried to blow air into the boy's lungs.
As Finnick moved on to the cardiac massage, Katniss snapped out of her shock and slithered her way to Olive's side, calling out Peeta's name desperately. Olive said nothing. Her throat already hurt like she had swallowed a burning flame, yet she still tried to console the girl.
With her hand on top of Katniss's shoulder, they waited in utter silence for the outcome of Finnick's exhausting task. Either a cannon would fire, or Peeta would finally breathe again.
All worry and exhaustion turned out to be worth it as Peeta inhaled deeply, and coughed his way back to conscience after long minutes. They interchanged positions in a heartbeat. Katniss took over Finnick's, while he moved over to check on Olive, while still keeping an eye on the couple.
"I told you so." Olive coughed, her throat burning up with every word she uttered.
"And I told you that it would get worse the more you talked," he said, his eyes leaving the couple to focus on her.
Olive showed him a side smile, trying to give the young couple some privacy by keeping her eyes on her husband while the two teenagers shared a 'welcome back to life' kiss. It didn't matter where they were, or if people could be after them, she would not break them apart. Not after Katniss had almost lost her only anchor to sanity on their first day, like Finnick, who forced himself to keep himself at a fair distance for a friend-like relationship, though didn't lose a second to check on her.
In any other situation, Olive was sure that the four of them would have grown closer to one another quickly, and maybe even become friends. But they were in the Arena, and, despite whatever rebel was undergoing under her nose, friendship could only go so far.
So she sat back and let Katniss weep until she tired herself out.