Chapter 9: In Which The End Comes To The Beginning
"But nothing's ever lost forever,
It's just caught inside the cushions of your couch
And when you find it
You'll have such a nice surprise."
Amanda Palmer, "Lost"
Once again, Annabeth found herself in front of the Justice Building. This time to watch the Victor's initial interview. Every Victor gave two interviews a week after they won. The week was to give them time to recover from the events of the games, physically and mentally.
Annabeth didn't think anyone truly left the games after they won. Killing humans was not something that came easily to most people. She'd seen how the two Victors of District 8 treated themselves and others. She pitied them, if she was being honest.
Percy's reintroduction to the Capitol and Panem was met with thunderous applause from the Capitol. And his own district, shown in the corner of the screen. His mother and brother were openly weeping.
The video of the game's highlights showed off only the best of Percy for an hour and a half. A good portion was his earlier activity before meeting up with Magnus. She'd finally learned what he did to the one Tribute to earn his ire. It had been nothing short of comical, if she'd felt like laughing.
And then, there was Magnus again. His voice and smile and laugh. The pair of them were dynamic. Their bonding was heartwarming. Percy's reaction to Magnus's death was heartbreaking.
He'd screamed and chucked rocks down at the Career who'd shot him. He'd wept, dry heaving as he arranged Magnus to look more… peaceful.
She was grateful for that.
The gift came down to him at that moment, a sword that seemed to be made of the same metal as the Cornucopia.
With red eyes, he'd marched — as best he could with his still injured leg — mercilessly after the Career. He'd slit their throat with little thought.
The second Career attempted to carry out a battle, but Percy… He was short and all knobby knees and wire thin arms. He took down the Career in moments. No doubt the Capitol would be replaying that for as long as they could.
In the end, Percy's training had come through.
When the camera switched back to Apeliotes and Percy, sitting comfortably in a matching pair of chairs, Percy didn't seem… all quite there.
Apeliotes seemed to realize this, too, because he pat Percy's leg.
"Ladies and gentleman," Apeliotes said, offering his hand to Percy. He takes it. "Your Victor of the 66th Hunger Games, Perseus Jackson!"
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His second interview was more intimate. Percy was dressed much less formally, in comfy looking clothes, and he and Apeliotes sat on plush chairs that seemed to envelop them. Wherever they were, the architecture looked amazing. Unlike any other interview, it would just be them. No audience was allowed in the room.
Which was a good thing, because she didn't have to look at the horrible faces of the Capitolites.
"Hello, Percy," Apeliotes said, "how are you doing?"
"Uh," Percy said, tapping his chin, "I'm okay. I stubbed my toe this morning and almost got murdered the shower by the shampoo, so… yeah. I'm okay."
Apeliotes laughed at that. Percy smirked.
"Are you excited to be going home soon?"
"Yeah. I miss my mom and Tyson. And I kind of miss District 4. I could go for a good bowl of spicy fish soup."
"Oh! I don't think I've ever had that before. Is it a delicacy?"
"No. It's actually really bad. Like, no one wants to actually eat it, but we all make it because it's easy. I miss it. It's the taste of home, you know?"
Apeliotes nodded his head.
"I'd miss pickled plums if I ever left the Capitol."
Percy's face screwed up, sticking his tongue out and gagging.
"Sounds gross."
"How about this," Apeliotes said, "next time you come back to the Capitol, you bring me spicy fish soup, and I'll get you pickled plums. This way we can see which one is the worst."
"You're on!"
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The return of the dead was always televised.
Annabeth had stood in this same spot twice before, and she hated it each time. The third? It was unbearable.
Some Capitolite had sent them clothing to wear. If the Stylists from the Capitol hadn't forced her into it, Annabeth wouldn't have worn it.
It was stiff and itchy, and it left her feeling generally unsettled. Who had sent it to them? What more did they want? They had seen enough viscera and horror to last a lifetime to staunch their horrible desires. Couldn't they let a family grieve the way they wanted?
The train carrying the bodies of Magnus and Needa would be arriving soon. Their joint funerals would have closed caskets. The districts always had closed caskets.
When she heard the train approaching, she smoothed out her skirt and rolled her shoulders back, standing a little straighter. She could do this. She could do this. She could do this.
She had done this before, she can do this again.
She…
She took one look at the simple coffins that were carried out by Peacekeepers, and she had to turn away. She could feel her eyes burn with tears and a sob hanging in the back of her throat. If one or the other escaped… well…
A warm hand settled on her shoulder. She looked up to see who it was. Randolph.
He looked more put together than she could help to feel. She wondered how he was holding it in.
"Magnus must have lost quite a bit of weight during the games," he said quietly to her, nodding to one of the coffins.
She opened her mouth to say something, when she decided against it. She turned her eyes back to the coffin. The one with Magnus's name carved elegantly on the top did appear to be heavier than it should have.
There was definitely something… off about it.
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Helena was going to kill her. So would the Peacekeepers, but Helena would get to her first.
But only if she caught Annabeth in action. If she knew what Annabeth was doing, however… well, Annabeth did not want her to figure it out.
She had feigned needing to relieve herself and slipped in the Justice Building with no problems. Sure the Peacekeepers gave a few curious glances. Although, she couldn't see their faces to actually tell.
Sadly, the restrooms were on the opposite side of the building, and the whole thing was labeled so she couldn't even fake not knowing where to go. She would have to play the mourning cousin card — which was a cheap shot, but she wasn't above it.
Especially not with that little inkling planted in her brain.
The casket was lighter than it should be, even considering how much weight Magnus would have lost throughout the games. There was something not right about it.
She had to know.
Somehow, she managed to slip past all of the Peacekeepers on duty and make it into the room by almost being caught only once. And she'd only managed to hide just in the nick of time. She just counted her lucky stars that the dress she was wearing blended in with the walls — if she hid her head behind one of the dusty tapestries hanging there. And tried not to let the stale dust bother her sinuses.
She slipped into the room, closing the door as carefully as possible, heart beating loudly and forcefully against her sternum. She tried to gulp it back down. It was in vain.
Slowly, cautiously, she tiptoed over to the two waiting caskets. Their sleek tops, with the stamp of the Capitol on the top, right above the names of the two Tributes.
Annabeth hated the sight of them and all they represented. She'd seen them too many times. She'd been up close to them too many times. How many more people would these games take?
"Magnus," she said, her voice feeling much too loud in the quiet space. She strained her ears to hear for the Peacekeepers.
Right. Magnus was the whole reason she was here in the first place.
With a tentative hand, she traced the locks holding the lid on. Well, this was… unprecedented. How was she supposed to undo them?
She brought her hands up to run through her hair when they caught on something. She withdrew the item, scowling at it.
It was nothing more than a tiny piece of steel that held her hair in place. The overzealous Stylist from the Capitol had come back and done her up again.
She was about to tuck it away in the skirts or bodice when it passed over her view of one of the locks.
It could work.
It might actually work.
She quickly got to work breaking the thing in half, bending it back and forth. It snapped apart with little fanfare.
With trembling hands, she got to work. It took her a moment to feel what she was looking for, but once she got one lock, the others were easy.
The lid, however, was heavy, and it took quite a bit of muscle that wasn't really there. She got it in the end, though.
A bit red faced and out of breath, but she got it. She took a moment with her eyes closed to gather her breath and courage to look down inside.
When she did, she hissed in a gasp of air and gaped down into the completely empty casket that was most certainly not holding Magnus Chase.
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Author stuff cont'd.: And this is the end of this fic. I at least wanted to get all of this out in the open. I hope everyone enjoyed it.