I feel like my arm might fall off from all the waving as Remus closes out the ceremony, reminding everyone to tune in for the final interviews tomorrow.
Sawyer and I are whisked away to the president's mansion for the Victory banquet where we were forced to endure another few hours happily thanking our sponsors and other officials as they fall over each other trying to get pictures with us. I'm afraid my cheeks might be permanently stuck in a smile, as I try to act grateful, looking to Haymitch for reassurance throughout the night and trying my best to avoid President Snow's gaze. But the one thing I refuse to do all night is let go of Sawyer's hand.
Eventually, the sun starts to come back up when we finally get escorted back to the twelfth floor. I think I'll finally get a moment alone with Sawyer but we're being whisked away to our separate rooms.
"Why can't I talk to him?" I ask Haymitch who has followed me to my door.
"You'll have plenty of time to talk when you get home," he says. "Go to bed. You're on air at two."
I try to sleep, but it's no use. I'm determined to get to talk to Sawyer, and after a few hours of tossing and turning, I get up to find him, only to find that my door has been locked from the outside. I'm sure this must be Haymitch's doing, but I'm afraid of the small chance that it's the Capitol, who still may be monitoring me. I try to think of ways I can get out of here, but figure it's better to stay then get caught and face any kind of repercussions so I just pretend to sleep until Effie comes in to wake me, telling me it's going to be a "big big day!"
After I scarf down some hot grains, my prep team comes in, although like yesterday, there isn't too much to do and Cinna follows with a white dress this time and pink shoes that pinch my toes.
I'm relieved to find that the interview doesn't take place in front of a live audience today, just a few cameramen and Remus Flickerman, who greets me with a warm hug.
"Congratulations Willow," he says. "How are you faring?"
"Fine. Nervous. I'm not good at talking about myself.
"You'll do great," he pats my cheek. "Nothing you say can be wrong."
Except it can, I think. And this time, I'm not the only one in danger.
Then Sawyer is there, looking handsome in red and white, pulling me off to the side. "I hardly get to see you. Haymitch is bent on keeping us apart."
Haymitch is actually bent on keeping us alive but there are too many ears listening. "Yeah, he's gotten really responsible lately."
"Well there's just this and then we go home. He can't watch us all the time," Sawyer says.
I don't know why that makes me even more nervous but before I can think too much, we're being called for our interview. We sit somewhat normally on the loveseat but Remus encourages me to curl up next to him, and I do. It makes me feel less alone that way.
Someone counts backwards and just like that, we're being broadcasted live to the audience. Sawyer and Remus have that easy banter they've had in all their other interviews and I'm more than happy leaning against Sawyer and letting him take the lead, smiling and giving short answers to show I'm paying attention.
Eventually, though, Remus asks a question that warrants a full answer. "Well, Sawyer, we know, from our days in the cave, that it was love at first sight for you from, what, age five?"
"From the moment I laid eyes on her," says Sawyer.
"But Willow, what a ride for you. I think the real excitement for the audience was watching you fall for him. When did you realize you were in love with him?" Remus asks.
"Oh, that's a hard one…" I give a faint breathy laugh and look down at my hands. Help.
"Well, I know when it hit me. The night when you shouted out his name after they announced the change," says Remus.
Thank you Remus! I think, and then try to make his idea my own. "I suppose that's when it started," I blush. "But I think it really hit me when…" I glance over at Sawyer whose eyes haven't left my face. "When I found you in the mud. Until then, I didn't really know if you were dying or… but something just clicked when I finally found you and could assure myself you were here, physically. And then, everything changed."
"And why do you think that was?" Remus pushes.
"Maybe…because for the first time…there was a chance I'd get to keep him," I say.
Behind one of the cameramen, I hear Haymitch give a sort of huff in relief, and I know I've said the right thing. Remus pulls out a handkerchief, so moved by the moment he has to take a second. Sawyer presses his forehead into my temple and asks, "So now that you've got me, what are you going to do with me?"
I turn into him. "Put you somewhere you can't get hurt." And when he kisses me, people in the room actually sigh.
For Remus, it's a natural place for him to segue into the injuries we sustained in the arena. But it's not until the mutts that I forget I'm on camera when Remus asks Sawyer how his "new leg" is working out.
"New leg?" I say and I can't help reaching down to pull up the end of Sawyer's pants. "Oh, no," I whisper, taking in the metal-and-plastic device that has replaced his leg.
"No one told you?" Remus asks gently. I shake my head, trying to hold back tears of guilt.
"I haven't had the chance," Sawyer says with a slight shrug.
All of my injuries have been healed, even down to my ear, which I was sure I'd never be able to hear out of again. And yet, Sawyer will be left with this permanent physical reminder, because I didn't have enough medical knowledge to help him.
"I'm sorry, Sawyer. It's my fault," I say. "Because of the tourniquet."
"Yes, it's your fault I'm alive," says Sawyer.
"He's right," says Remus. "He'd have bled to death for sure without it."
Maybe he's right, but I'm still stuck staring at Sawyer's pant leg where his leg was now gone. I don't even notice the tears spilling out until one hits his leg.
"Willow?" Sawyer lifts my chin up so I'm looking at him. He gives me a reassuring smile. "Please don't cry. Honestly, I'd give both legs, heck I'd even give my arm if it meant I got to be here with you."
Remus lets out a gasp, and I'm sure he's composing himself again. It's so easy to get sucked in, he's just so believable and I'm more and more convinced I'm the only one putting on an act. Or am I? Instead of responding, I just bury myself in his shirt and it takes them a few minutes to coax me out, because it's better in here, where nobody can see me, and when I do come out, Remus backs off, focusing his question on Sawyer until he comes to the berries.
"Willow, I know you've had a shock but I've got to ask. The moment when you pulled out those berries…what was going on in your head."
I take a long pause, trying to collect my thoughts. This is the crucial moment where I either challenged the Capitol, or was so crazy in love that I wasn't thinking rationally and that I couldn't be held responsible for my actions. It seems to call for a big dramatic speech, but all I can muster is, "I don't know…I just, couldn't bear the thought of being without him." And oddly enough, my words are completely truthful. Of all the lies I've had to tell in the arena, of all the acting I did, the moment with the berries was the only time where I didn't think. In my mind, there was no other option. I wasn't leaving the arena without him either way. I couldn't.
"Sawyer, anything to add?" Remus asks.
"No, I think that goes for both of us," he says.
Remus signs off and it's over. Everyone around us is cheering and crying and hugging, all while I stay clinging to Sawyer who rubs my back in circular motions, I think both to comfort me and to remind myself I'm there. I hope we've pulled it off but I'm not sure until I've reached Haymitch. "Okay?" I ask.
"Perfect," he says.
I go back to my room to collect my things, only to find the mockingjay pin and Hudson's ring to be the only things I have still. Someone must have returned it after the games. They drive us through the streets in a blackened car until we get to the train. And it's only after the train has left the station, moving further and further away from the Capitol that I start to feel like I can actually breathe again. We eat an enormous dinner and then settle on the couch to watch a replay of the interview. I excuse myself partway through to change out of the dress, and as I wash off the makeup and rebraid my hair, I begin to transform back into myself, Willow Mellark. Only, I'm having a hard time remembering who exactly that is. The girl who trades at the Hob, hunts in the woods, lives to protect her sister. Or the girl who killed a boy without a second though, deceived the entire country into thinking she was in love with a boy for her own protection. I don't know who I am and who I'm not. By the time I rejoin the others, Sawyers' arms around me feels alien. No longer the comfort that it was in the arena and the Capitol.
When the train stops, we're allowed out for some fresh air, no longer the need to be accompanied by anyone. We're victors now. We wouldn't run away. We walk hand in hand down the tracks. Now that we're finally alone, I feel like I should say something, but I don't know what. When Sawyer stops to grab a handful of wildflowers, I try my hardest to look pleased when he presents them to me, but the pink and white tops just remind me of the flowers Papa would pick for me in the woods. What does my family think of all of this? What will they think of me when they find out it was all fake? Will they think me heartless? Or maybe they can never find out. How will I keep this up when there are no Games to hide behind?
"What's wrong?" Sawyer asks.
"Nothing," I answer and we keep walking along the tracks until I'm sure there are no cameras that can hear us. Still no words come.
Haymitch startles me when he places a hand on my back. Even in the middle of nowhere, he keeps his voice down. "Great job, you two. Just keep it up in the district until the cameras are gone. We should be okay." I watch him head back to the train, avoiding Sawyer's gaze.
"What's he mean?" Sawyer asks.
"It's the Capitol. They didn't like our stunt with the berries," I blurt out.
"What? What are you talking about?" he says.
"It seemed too rebellious. So Haymitch has been coaching me these last few days. So I didn't make it worse," I say.
"Coaching you? But not me?"
"He knew you were smart enough to get it right," I say.
"I didn't know there was anything to get right," says Sawyer. "So then what you're saying is, these last few days, and…I guess in the arena…that was just some strategy you two worked out?"
"No. I mean, I couldn't even talk to him in the arena, could I?" I stammer.
"But you knew what he wanted you to do, didn't you?" says Sawyer. I bite my lip. "Willow?" He drops my hand and I immediately miss his touch. It was the only thing keeping me tethered to reality.
"It was all for the games," says Sawyer. "How you acted." He turns and starts to walk back to the train.
"Not all of it!" I chase after him, not wanting him to go. I need him to understand, that it was for the both of us. "Sawyer!" I call out to him but my words are cut short when I trip on a piece of metal sticking out of the tracks, and fall onto the hard gravel, scraping my hands and knees. "Shit," I try to brush off the rocks embedded in my skin, but it just ends up spreading the blood around.
Sawyer hears my cry and looks back, and as soon as he sees I'm hurt, he comes over to help me, which makes me feel worse. Even when I've hurt him, he still puts me first. But instead of taking his hand, I push myself up and grab his wrist so he can't run away.
"Let's get you inside. You're bleeding," he tries to pull me towards the train, but I'm stubborn, refusing to move even as I'm getting my blood all over the both of us. We've had worse in the arena, I'm certainly not going to let it stop me now.
Once he sees I'm not done with the conversation, he sighs, looking down at his feet. "How much of it was real? No, forget that. I guess the real question is what's going to be left of us when we get home?"
"I don't know," I tell him truthfully. "The closer we get to District Twelve, the more confused I get," I say. "I'm still trying to sort out how much of it was real for me and what I did so that Haymitch would send us food," I admit. I can at least do that much. "But I felt something. I don't know what but in that cave…"
"What?" Sawyer asks, waiting for me to say more.
But I've never been one for my words. And now that there are no cameras, now that we're actually alone, I can at least answer one for myself. I lift up on my toes and kiss him, nothing fancy, just a light peck, but it stirs something, like in the cave. If only I could place that feeling.
"Well?" Sawyer asks, but when I don't say anything else, too preoccupied with sorting it out in my own head, he says, "Let me know when you work it out." And this time, the pain in his voice is palpable.
I can only watch him as he walks back to the train without a second glance. When I finally climb back aboard, I clean my hands and knees, placing ointment and bandages over them. Sawyer has disappeared into his room for the night and I don't see him the next day either. In fact, the next time he turns up, we're pulling into District Twelve. He gives me a nod, his face expressionless.
I want to tell him that he's not being fair. That we're virtually strangers, at least, he is to me, regardless of what he remembers of us as children. I did what it took to keep us alive in that arena. That it's no good loving me anyway because I'm never getting married and he'd just end up hating me sooner than later. That even if I do have feelings for him, I'll never be able to give him the kind of love that leads to a family or children, because especially after everything we've been through, I'd never consider bringing a child into this world.
I also want to tell him how much I miss him, but that wouldn't be fair after the way I left things.
So we stand there silently as we pull up onto the rundown platform where there are cameras waiting and everyone must be eager to greet us.
Out of the corner of my eyes, I see Sawyer extend his hand. I look at him, unsure. "One more time? For the audience?" He says. His voice isn't angry, it's hollow, which is worse. Already he's slipping away from me.
I take his hand, holding on tightly, preparing for the cameras, and dreading the moment when I finally have to let go.