Chapter 68: Borrowed Time
And they were off, the former victors dove into the water, desperately swimming towards the cornucopia.
The watery arena gave Four a natural advantage and Sera was sure Finnick or the District 4 mentors would've been happier if the circumstances weren't so dire.
Reef and Kaia mumbled something in concern. Their focus was not on Finnick and Mags but rather on the door where Peacekeepers had all but barricaded them in the Observation Room.
It would be a lie to say that everyone in the room was focused on the games. No one really was. Augustus tried his best to look at the screen but with a split lip and a blackened bloody eye, it was hard for him to even keep his eyes open.
For some of the Peacekeepers, it was harder to watch Panem's favorite son in that state.
In the midst of the chaos on both sides, Wells reached the shores with ease on the other side of the screen.
District 5 might not have had access to the vast ocean that Four did but they had enough lakes and rivers to swim in. Not far away was Leora, shivering and complaining.
Wells laughed and ran through the shores to reach the bounty in the middle of the small island cornucopia. He barely managed to pick up a sword before a sharp buzzing sound shot through the air.
Blood dyed the sandy floor a vivid red and some splashed onto the water behind him.
The next shot was him sitting on the floor impaled on a…trident.
Finnick's trident.
Wells struggled for only a moment, swinging his sword helplessly. Finnick patted his trident and pulled it out in one motion.
Blood rained down from Wells' open wound, dying the sands a vivid red as he fell. A loud cannon accompanied his fall alongside Leora's muffled screams.
Julian Wells was dead.
One of the first casualties of the Quell.
Counters outside the screen flashed and changed from zero to three.
Three dead victors.
Three.
Cold chilly air blew in from the small dark cracks in the room and Sera pulled up her gloves. A soft weight pressed down on her as Huxley's light coat fell on her back. He didn't say a word and hadn't spoken since Wells had died.
But Sera could see that he had a lot to say. He held it all in and warily eyed his fellow victors. He didn't trust them at all. No, he wouldn't allow himself to lean on them or show them a crack in his mask.
He wouldn't listen to her. Even if she tried to convince him to work with them for the sake of it, for the rebellion or even for her; he wouldn't do it.
Huxley would put his and their family over everything. Panem could burn for all he cared about. Finnick could die for all Huxley cared about as long as she and their family were safe. He didn't care about Panem.
Neither did she. Not really. The only reason she was even on board was because of her own fault. She was in too deep and backing down wouldn't matter when Finnick was too involved. She'd lose one or the other. Her family or Finnick.
"I'm sorry." Sera murmured, digging her face into Huxley's coat. "About…Wells."
At first, Huxley didn't move. He stared at the screen transfixed on Finnick's moving form, ducking and dodging Cashmere and Gloss' attacks.
He answered back after a prolonged moment of silence. "Leora is still in the game."
Sera pursed her lips and looked away. She could read between the lines and knew what Huxley meant. He'd stay as long as she stayed, as long as Leora was in the game.
Her nails dug into her gloved palms, she stopped and took a deep breath. She could hear her sister in her mind blaming her and Ramiel trying to stop her though secretly he'd agree with her. Even Clarisse and Nox wouldn't back Sera up. She was on her own.
"You have an out now." Haymitch sat down next to Huxley and looked around the stiff figures watching him. "I'm sorry though—about…um…Julian."
Huxley said nothing for a moment. Awkwardly Haymitch turned to Sera with a questioning glance. She didn't answer for her brother-in-law. She couldn't. She didn't know if he was even mourning or if he was trying to figure her out.
"You knew him better than the rest of us." Huxley spoke heavily with slight breathlessness that took Sera by surprise. "I hardly knew him."
"Not true." Haymitch said, an attempt to comfort Huxley maybe? She wasn't so sure. "Uh, I'm sure you knew him a little."
"I knew he was a reckless drunk like you and Chaff and so many others that came before and after him. Irresponsible. Overbearing. Always in everyone's business—wouldn't let Leora be on her own…ever—constantly checked on everyone at the Victor's Village day and night even when no one asked him to. He was…overbearing and a fool."
Haymitch's eyes trembled, the corners turning a sad red. He rubbed his eyes and turned away. Just for a second, Sera thought the sole mentor from Twelve was going to cry but it was Haymitch Abernathy of all people, he wouldn't cry.
He let out a shaky breath while beating his chest and letting out broken coughs. His throat had seized up and Augustus, still tending to his own wounds, passed him a bottle of water. No complaints were made as he downed the entire bottle with everyone watching.
"At least Katniss and Peeta are still in the game." Augustus tried, looking around the room expectedly.
"It'd be a shame if they went out so quickly after everything they went through to set it all up." Leif bit out.
"Leif." Sera eyed the door and warned.
Only to be met by a bitter laugh from Haymitch. "Easy there. What's the worst they can do? Kill us?"
She had to hold herself back from biting back or rolling her eyes, masking her emotions with a veil of concern and upset as she stood up, faux outraged. "I'm just telling Leif to be careful."
"Being careful doesn't matter anymore."
He turned his head towards a bloodied Augustus who shrunk under his gaze. "I'm fine." Augustus tried to say before he let out a quiet yelp and covered his lip, tapping it.
Some of the other mentors let out bitter laughs and others gathered around Augustus. "Doesn't matter what you say or do anymore. They sure don't care about treating us like victors."
"Better safe than sorry." Huxley said.
"Of course you two would say that." Haymitch airily replied. "You know Wells would do the exact same thing and so would…Uriel."
Huxley's form became taut, his fists folded and his cold gaze on Haymitch. Quickly, Sera moved to cover his vision with her form, standing between him and Haymitch.
"Are you trying to start something?" She hissed out. "You saw what they did to the stylists and escorts back there."
Haymitch's red eyes looked up at her. A wry yet confident smile graced his weathered face. A flicker of fear and concern on his face. He rose to meet her gaze, only to tower above her.
"And you think following the rules and sitting all quiet and docile is going to make things any different?"
She took a step back. Huxley's fingers twitched and she put a hand on his shoulder. "It's better to stay still than do whatever you're doing."
"And you think that's going to work?" He countered and she fell silent along with the room. She could only hear the victors in the arena through the speakers, nothing more.
His lips turned upwards into a sly grin. Pleased at leaving her speechless. Really she had words to say but she was watching him; he was after all acting against his typical nature.
The spark in his eyes was too odd for her to take in. She wasn't used to him being so…alive and active. "Katniss was right." He stated and she almost cracked her mask.
"Katniss was right?" She echoed back. "About what?"
"You'd make a good ally."
"I'm not in the arena." She reminded him. "I'm here in front of you not in there but if you're asking for an indirect alliance, Leora made it clear—"
"I wasn't talking about Leora."
A quick glance at the locked door and back at an unrelenting Haymitch. He knew better than that. The walls had ears. He knew that. He knew that not everyone among them could be trust and yet—
"Arena's not the only place for allies." He carried on and looked around the room at the other victors. He needed them more than he needed her. She was just one of them.
Tension filled the air like noxious gas, making it harder for anyone to breathe, let alone think. Sera drew back. Both she and Haymitch watched each other like they were young tributes in the arena ready to kill. The thought of alliance with him or anyone of her fellow victors made her laugh.
Nobody in that room apart from Huxley trusted her. Not even Augustus. They wouldn't hesitate to sell her out if it came down to it. Haymitch knew that.
The victors' voices from the arena crackled through the speakers, but in that room, time had stopped, all eyes on Haymitch and Sera.
Haymitch, undeterred by her silence, turned to the other victors. "What about the rest of you?" His tone carried an undercurrent of urgency hidden beneath a facade of his usual carelessness. "Do you agree, or are you just going to sit back and wait to see what happens?"
A former tribute turned victor from District 3, one Beetee had trained, now his mentor, spoke up, her voice low and cautious. "Remember where we are, Haymitch."
Nova hadn't moved from her seat since the games had begun. She didn't pace around the room like the mentors from One and Two or throw things in anger like the mentors from Seven, Nine and Ten. She stayed put with her partner through it all, keeping an eye on the clock not on the screen but she didn't hesitate to throw herself in the ring the minute Haymitch started a scene.
Haymitch didn't move. He refused to. That same urgency that hid in his voice was obvious in his demeanor. It was like he was running on borrowed time. Nova ignored him and the screens that showed Beetee but stayed watching Haymitch like a hawk.
If Sera didn't know any better, she'd think that Nova didn't care about Beetee at all and Beetee was her former mentor after all.
And yet, Nova with her mismatched eyes and scarred lips that seemed almost reminiscent of Scarus' scarred face seemed…on edge.
A glint of metal caught her eye and she turned to look at Haymitch again. Peeking out from his pocket, a chain that dangled slightly. Haymitch stuffed his hands into his pocket and turned his back to the rest of the room. He'd taken out the chain and was checking…the time.
No doubt it was a gift from Plutarch.
"That's quite the antique." Sera commented and Haymitch froze.
"An heirloom." He grumbled out and shoved it back inside his pockets. "I'm sure that necklace around your neck is one too." He joked.
In her place, Huxley leaned forward to respond. Hurriedly, Sera pulled him back. The tension was reaching its peak. One more word and she expected someone—more likely Haymitch—to end up on the floor.
Six's mentors bumped on each other and almost rolled to the floor. They barely held on, barely lucid. Still they tried to speak up and try to calm the situation down. Nobody wanted the Peacekeepers to come in.
Quietly, she slipped away from her seat and approached the mentors from District 6. Without a word, she offered them glasses filled with warm water.
The mentors from District 6 blinked in surprise, not realizing she had even left her seat. They accepted the water with grateful, if slightly confused, expressions, their morphling-induced haze beginning to lift.
Sera returned to her place, her movements as graceful as before, her expression unreadable.
"So did you think about what I said? Any takers?"
"In spirit of the Quarter Quell?" Sera asked airily, taking her seat once more with a refined elegance that she'd learned from mimicking Capitolites and to some extent the President.
Haymitch was being too reckless.
'What if Scarus was still behind the door?'
The mentors around her stiffened at the way she spoke and sat down, visibly on their guard. But there was a sly fleeting smile gracing Haymitch's lips.
"Is this about what Beetee said?" Nova cut in before Sera could even get another word in.
Hiding her surprise well, like Haymitch she turned her gaze on Nova. Beetee's former tribute. Sera shouldn't have been surprised that Beetee had left behind some instructions for his 'mentors'. After all, this was Beetee. He was always several steps ahead.
'Then maybe…'
She couldn't help but wonder if Finnick had done the same.
For a brief moment, she allowed herself to get distracted by that thought, her gaze drifting toward Reef and his partner from District 4. But this was Finnick. Finnick didn't trust many people and it was unlikely that either of his mentors knew a thing about the rebellion or about her.
A heavy, pained breath escaped her lips and she turned to screen where he was there clear as day, disheveled and a little injured but still handsome and heartbreaking as ever. Her heart shook violently and she leaned back into her seat, closer to Huxley.
Waves of pain crashed over Sera, threatening to pull her under, but she steadied herself, forcing her breathing to remain calm, even as her hands trembled slightly. Huxley pulled her closer and gave her a questioning glance, silently asking her about her wellbeing.
Her mind was getting foggier and a sudden spike of pain in her chest had set her entire body on fire. Her almost healed wounds on her arm were re-ignited and she had to bite down her lower lip to consume the sounds of pain.
Despite the searing pain, Sera forced herself to focus. She couldn't afford to lose track of what was happening around her, not now. Huxley shifted beside her, trying to stand so they could both leave, but she rooted them both to their spots with a firm grip on his arm. They needed to stay—she needed to stay.
The other mentors were oblivious to her state as Nova pressed Haymitch. "Did you and Beetee talk?" She asked, her voice filled with suspicion.
Everyone in the room seemed curious, even the usually distant and disinterested Huxley, who now leaned forward slightly.
Augustus chimed in. "Does this have something to do with the stylists and escorts back there?"
Haymitch hesitated, concern on his face. He almost looked like he cared about the stylists and the escort from his district. "Probably not. Besides, I don't think it matters what happens to them if we can't look after ourselves."
Nova's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean by that?"
"We need to worry about ourselves first."
"Is something…going to happen to us?"
Haymitch didn't answer. Instead, he glanced over at Sera.
"There's recess in five." Sera stated calmly, sparing a single glance at the door.
Uncomfortably, everyone shuffled away from the door and corners of the room where the cameras were aimed at them.
"Thank you for the reminder." Haymitch said.
The two stared at each other in silence. An unspoken conversation passing by with the seconds as the games went on behind them. They needed to talk.
She was sure that Beetee had laid the groundwork for them to move forward. He was much closer to the others than she ever would be. She couldn't really get close anyway. Not when she was working directly and openly with Snow. Naturally, they feared and pitied her. She knew that.
"Can we even trust them to give us a break?" Reef grumbled. "For all we know that man could be lying to us."
A few mentors nervously checked the door in response and a few checked the corners of the room but no one made a sound. The only sounds that filled the room were the violent screams and sloshing of the waves from beyond the screens scattered around the room.
Sera stared at the ground before shutting her eyes and counting.
Another cannon echoed through the room.
Another dead.
She didn't know who died. Maybe it was Leora. Wells was already gone or maybe it was someone she vaguely knew. She couldn't tell when Huxley's hands grew tighter around hers.
All she could do was sit and count. Wait for something. Anything.
A loud click echoed through the room and the lights by the door flashed green. The door was unlocked and the screens were black. The game had taken a pause as the remaining victors in the arena scattered to the jungle.
She expected the door to open and for them to be set free to roam around but instead a hoard of Peacekeepers filled the room once more. Huxley grabbed her hand and put himself in front of her, eyeing each of the faceless men and women in front of them.
Notably Scarus was absent. The Peacekeepers said nothing and surrounded them, drawing them out of the room and herding them out into the halls.
"Where are you taking us?" Augustus ran to the front of the crowd and grabbed a Peacekeeper.
No answer. Reef and Nova pulled Augustus back with a warning look. "The less you talk the better it'll be for the rest of us." Haymitch grumbled out.
Faceless Peacekeepers ushered them through the winding halls that looked awfully familiar to them all. Their heavy footsteps echoed ominously, Haymitch's shoulders were taut and his eyes trained on the Peacekeepers. Huxley's was the same and so was Augustus.
Sera was the portrait of calm but her sharp eyes were trained on the Peacekeepers, studying their mannerisms and gait. One of them had a limp and another had an injured arm. She could guess that they'd fought against the stylists or the escorts. Her best bet was the escorts. Some of the escorts seemed temperamental.
Finally, they were led to a familiar set of doors—doors Sera recognized. It was the Training Hall. The familiar tall metallic double doors that led them straight to the wide Training Hall with different survival stations. She'd never forget those doors even if she tried to and she never thought she'd stand outside them ever again after she'd won.
Before the doors opened, one of the Peacekeepers turned to address them. "Your recess is for four hours. This will be your only time to secure sponsors."
A few mentors began to murmur in protest, confusion and frustration bubbling to the surface. A few of them, visibly agitated, stepped forward, ready to argue.
But another Peacekeeper cut them off with a cold, almost rehearsed explanation. "Due to unprecedented events during the last Games, the rules have been altered to allow for better vetting of sponsors. This change ensures the integrity and security of the process."
Only a few handful of mentors seemed unfazed by the new change. Sera wasn't surprised that the mentors from Four and Three were one of them. Haymitch seemed more annoyed than surprised. It was like he expected it. He shook his head with a bitter smile.
"Is that all?" Sera asked politely before anyone else could get a word in. "Seems a little harsh for what happened last year. Most of us didn't have anything to do with that."
The Peacekeeper who had spoken last offered a simple rehearsed apology. "We apologize for any inconvenience. Please make the most of your time."
No more questions or another word to them, their job was done.
A small bow of their heads and they moved to the side, pulling the tall doors wide open. The once stark and utilitarian space had been transformed into something falsely grander, though its past still lingered in the air.
Carpets had been rolled on top of the metal floors that Sera was sure were scratched up from the recent trainings. There were still some survival stations dotted around the room. She recognized the rope and the archery station very easily. Those two seemed so out of place in the newly decorated hall.
The bows and the arrows were neatly stacked up, only a few out of place. Katniss must've used that one. There were another two survival stations that she'd missed, a firemaking station and clean water extracting station. Those two weren't nearly as flashy as the archery station.
She stopped in her steps, Huxley's hand tightened around hers. "This is the sickest joke I've seen." He murmured.
"You think this is a joke." Sera sighed and looked around. "This looks like the opening of a museum exhibit."
Huxley tilted his head to the side in pure confusion. His face was blank as he tried to conjure up the image of what Sera had said. "A what?"
"A museum exhibit." She repeated tiredly, kicking herself for forgetting that her brother-in-law might've not known what a museum exhibit in the Capitol looked like, let alone a Capitol museum.
District 5 didn't have a museum. There was nothing to see or remember. Everything from the past belonged to the Capitol or in a locked room in the Justice Building.
"I don't think Huxley knows what a museum is." Haymitch quipped tiredly.
"And you do?" She threw back. "Does Twelve have those sorts of things in their district?"
Haymitch let out a chesty laugh before it died out in seconds when he heard shrill laughs and distinct bird-like chatter.
Flocks and mischiefs of Capitolites poured into the room with a quiet lull of harp playing in the background. They greeted the mentors with a quick nod and fleeting smile before turning away from them with a slight tremble.
She vaguely heard Haymitch's voice through the chatter, say. "Guess we'll have to pick this up later." But when she tried to find him, he was surrounded by a small flock.
In a dark corner of the room, Sera spotted pale red-gold dressed musicians that she was sure were not there before. Their mouths were gagged and their eyes covered but no one paid them any attention or no one could.
When one woman tried to, her companion quickly pulled her away from that corner, hurriedly whispering something she couldn't pick up.
If she didn't know any better she'd think the Capitolites were trapped in there with them not the other way around. She didn't see many familiar faces.
Not a lot of the usual sponsors from the previous years. A few were recognizable but those ones barely gave anything but a loaf of bread or a pack of nonperishable food. The high spenders and the loud and proud fans of the games were not there.
Augustus cursed under his breath and covered his face, turning to Sera for something. She looked away, she had nothing to do. Wells was Huxley's responsibility and Wells was gone. Leora didn't need sponsors.
"Augustus!" A woman shrieked, clutching her pearl neck. "Your beautiful face! Who did this?"
Augustus covered his face and tried to duck. It was useless. That woman tackled him, pulling and prodding at his face, complaining loudly about how his beautiful face was ruined. She heard more complaints about his face throughout the afternoon mixed in with the usual but subdued complaints about the Quell.
"This is a waste of time." Huxley glared at a few Capitolites and leaned back in his seat. "We should go."
"We're not allowed to leave, Hux, remember?"
"Sounds like they're punishing us."
"Shh." She passed him a glass of water and shook her head. "For someone who drilled it into my head that I needed to be careful, you're way more reckless than me."
He sighed and threw his empty glass down on the table, scaring off another few Capitolites, potential sponsors. She'd sigh or look on with feigned sadness at them before carrying on. She didn't really need sponsors. Leora didn't want any.
"I want to go home." He said softly, putting his elbows up on the table. A boyish habit of his that appeared whenever he was scared or nervous; it was rare for him to be any of those.
"I want us to go home." He repeated.
Sera patted his shoulder. "You can go home. Nox did say things aren't too good back home."
"He did." Huxley hummed lightly under his breath. "Leora's still in the game." He repeated his earlier words.
"For now."
Leora wouldn't stay alive another day in that arena. It was a miracle she'd survived the bloodbath.
Huxley pulled his seat closer to Sera, his broad shoulders acting as a shield between herself and the cackle that were eyeing her darkly.
"We should start packing." She said quietly. "Leora's not going to last long and I don't have a good feeling."
"About?"
"This." Subtly, she motioned towards the vast hall. "This was where the tributes were trained—where we trained and now—"
"It's unrecognizable." He breathed out and grabbed a glass from a passing avox. He room a sniff of it and placed it down on the table. "They're changing things and you didn't know about this."
Sera paused. "You think I'd know about this?"
"Yes." He answered without thinking. "It's obvious you know more than you let on, you always do. I can tell. Lissa and you have similar habits."
Her eyes trembled and she swallowed. "I'm…that easy to read—"
"Because I know Lissa." He cut her off. "Dahlia wasn't the only one who raised you." He stared at the floor wistfully. "I wish you'd remember that."
It was easier to forget when she hardly had much time to spend with her family. Huxley bit his lips and shook his head in pain before flashing an apologetic look pointed at her. Already, he regretted the words that spilled out of him.
She swiped a sip of his drink and passed it back to him. The alcohol was cloyingly sweet with a strong artificial floral aftertaste that made her gag. Sweetness faded and left her with a throat burning sensation that lingered but allowed her to gather her thoughts.
"We need to pack up." She repeated firmly, ignoring Huxley's gaze.
She didn't want to meet his eyes and know if he pitied her or resented her. She didn't want to know. She'd live her entire life in ignorance if she had to.
With a sigh, he nodded, dropping whatever argument that was brewing between them. "I never unpacked." He admitted. "I didn't feel the need to. Wells and Leora weren't going to come back anyways."
She snorted bitterly and rubbed her burning throat. Huxley grabbed another glass from an avox and passed it to her. ' Water' He mouthed to her and made a drinking motion like she was a child who didn't understand simple gestures.
"Then whose clothes have you been wearing?"
He shrugged and said. "I don't know, Eos gave me a rack of clothes."
Sera smiled in response. "Eos is a good person so is Emilia and the other stylists."
"Ovid's good too." He said softly and she made a face. "I know he doesn't seem like it but he was good to me. I'm sure he has his reasons."
"You're sympathizing with him."
"I'm trying to be…nice."
"It's odd." She took a sip of the cold water and let out a shudder. "I don't like it."
"The water or me being nice."
"You being nice." She pointed at him disapprovingly. "It doesn't suit you. I still remember everything you said before…" She dropped her voice to a whisper and carried on. "Remember you used to tell me not to trust anyone here."
He laughed. "I still stand by it. I was just being nice to the few who showed us kindness and I had to sit through hours of Ovid crying about Eos."
"Oh." Her eyes widened. "Ovid and Eos—"
"Yeah. Could you even guess?"
"I'd rather not know."
"That's how I felt about you and…" Finnick. He left his words hanging in the air, still Sera heard the unspoken name loud and clear through the cacophony of chatter and music.
Sera's face was a blank canvas, devoid of any emotion. She stared at her reflection in the water and swung her legs underneath the table. "Sometimes you just can't help it." She said more to herself.
"You could've been more careful."
"Could've. Would've. Should've." She said. "It's easy to talk when you're not the one in my place."
"We're not talking about…" Again he didn't dare say Finnick's name. Even if no one was listening, he didn't want to take the chance. Their little moment of peace was precious and rare. "Are we?"
Sera's lips quaked. "Yes and no." She said and took another look at the floor.
Nobody was listening or watching them. Augustus had drawn the attention of the room. His wounds mixed in with his vocal concerns over the escorts and the stylists had gathered a small crowd in the center of the room.
On the fringe of the storm, Haymitch hovered. He wasn't alone. There were a few Capitolites animatedly talking with him, pledging their support to Katniss and Peeta for the games.
"There's a train back to Five early tomorrow morning." She said to Huxley and looked away from Haymitch. "You can take that one."
"What about you?"
Sera smiled. Huxley was persistent. He'd never allow her to stay if he knew what she was thinking or what was going to happen. She'd do the same if she was in his spot. She'd never let her stay if she knew what was coming.
"Leora's still in the game."
"Not for long."
The smart thing to do would be to leave. To run and hide anywhere else. Finnick wanted her to do that too; go back home and wait out the storm. That would be the best thing to do.
But she couldn't.
So she smiled and lied to Huxley. "I'll take the midnight train. I have an appointment at the clinic in the afternoon and dinner with the President in the evening."
Huxley nodded. Concern still on his face with no sign of disappearing anytime soon. "I can come with you for your appointment."
"No. No." She shook her head and again looked around the room.
Nova was with Haymitch along with Lyme from Two. Lyme. It took her a minute to notice Sera's gaze on them. The two stared at each other in solemn silence. Lyme turned away and looked sadly at Augustus before getting lost in the crowd.
But the fleeting look she'd given her and Huxley spoke volumes for her. Lyme wasn't going to stay another day in the Capitol.
"You need to be on the train by tomorrow afternoon."
"I can take the evening train or better yet, I'll take the midnight train with you."
Sera closed her eyes. There was not going to be a midnight train. She knew that. Nobody had to tell her but she knew. She could tell.
The signs were there for anyone to pick up on the change.
The Quell.
The almost former victors turned tributes and their mentors returning for the Quell not on specialized trains that they had taken for as long as she could recall but rather on repurposed cargo trains—something she would never have guessed on her own had District 6's Jet not mentioned it.
And she remembered Scarus talking about the borders of the Capitol more frequently.
She knew that the Capitol didn't care about the victors anymore. They'd lived past their use. She underestimated the lengths Snow would go through to erase them.
If she was right, the last train towards Five would be the evening train on the second day of the Quell. The last train overall, towards the rest of Panem in the entire duration of the Quell would be on the third day in the evening or afternoon. That was the day when the bodies of the fallen were returned.
The first and second day were always the deadliest of the games before the inevitable long quiet that often stretched on for days. What followed outside the arena was the consolation prizes according to the ranks they had fallen.
That was until Crane had changed things the year before. She trusted Plutarch to return to the old ways but even so, she was so unsure of a lot.
"The Capitolites really like you, don't they?" Huxley interrupted her thoughts and pointed towards the ceiling where the light fixtures had been changed to a flowery chandelier.
Sera laughed. "I think they like the flowers and my face more…" Her eyes widened and she blinked at the ceiling.
The thin silvery chandelier was wrapped carefully with pimpernels, goldenrods and small berries she couldn't see at first—gooseberries.
"Pimpernels. Goldenrods. Gooseberries." She said to herself and turned to Huxley.
"A strange combination and place to hang them."
Sera shook her head. Huxley didn't understand and she didn't expect him to.
Pimpernels. Change. Goldenrods. Be Cautious. Gooseberries. Anticipation.
She didn't say another word and simply nodded. "You can't expect too much from these people. They see a pretty thing and they just understand how to use it."
Her brother-in-law didn't laugh like she thought he would. He just stared at her hard and motioned to the corners of the room. "Are those fir leaves?"
"So there are."
Fir leaves. Time.
The ticks of the clocks grew louder while the sound of chatter and her heartbeat grew fainter and fainter.
Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.
Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick—
"Those Capitol folks are very persistent." Haymitch's tired voice managed to get through to her and brought Sera back from her thoughts. "I'm surprised they're not swarming you."
Blinking a few times, Sera smiled and motioned her head towards her stoic brother-in-law. Huxley glared at Haymitch like he had done to the other passersby and Haymitch in turn laughed.
"Easy there." He put his hands up in front of him. "I'm not like them."
"But you are." Huxley took another sip of the sweet alcohol before looking to the side for a place to dump the sweet liquor. "You want something from her just like them."
"I just want to talk."
"That's asking a lot." Sera wasn't focused on Haymitch. She was checking the crowd and the doors. No Peacekeepers or Scarus. No Capitolites eying her. "You looked like you wanted me dead back there."
Haymitch covered his face, trying to mask his thoughts and emotions from Sera. But she could tell he was going to lie. He shifted in his seat, fidgeting with the fabric of his shirt, pulling and kneading it. Then he looked at her with a clear gaze.
"No. I was just messing arou—"
"When asking for a favor, it's better to be honest."
Haymitch snorted. "What makes you think I'll ask you for a favor?"
"It's either a favor or some questions." She replied airily, again checking the hall. "Nobody comes to me to get a look at my face."
"I'm sure that's not true. You're a doll to them like that lover boy of yours." Sera pursed her lips. "Oh don't make that face. We all know that boy wonder from Four is more than just a friend and I'm sure it breaks his heart to know that you're just like h—"
"I'm not like the others." She admitted though it would've been better for her to lie but she didn't have the time. "I'm not on the table like the rest…of you. I haven't been sold to the highest bidder if that's what you're trying to say." She whispered—no, she hissed out without a hint of a lie in her words.
To lie, she'd need a plan or another lie and she had nothing when it came to Haymitch.
Haymitch's eyes softened and then narrowed. He was going to give her the benefit of doubt, flatter her and pretend to sympathize with her. He expected her to play along. She was meant to be softer and more fragile.
"You're close to…Snow." He said to himself. "So you're not a doll, like the rest."
"Never said I was." She just let him believe her to be one. "But we're not here to talk about me or Huxley, are we? We don't have the time."
'Time.'
Hearing that, Haymitch grew rigid. The pocket watch in his pocket grew heavy and weighed him down. He pulled his chair closer to their table and dragged the collar of his cotton shirt roughly to the side.
He waived off the pleasantries and the small talk and went straight into what he really wanted to say. "Whose side are you on?"
That was the boldness Haymitch Abernathy was once known for.
"Side?" Sera echoed, amused. "What do you mean by that?"
Her searing pain ebbed away and she sat up, focused. Haymitch's gaze was trained on her. Huxley, caught in the middle, moved and chose silence.
"You know exactly what I meant." Haymitch threw out. "You were nice to Katniss, told her she'd make it like you knew she would."
"I'm nice to everyone." Sera stated and Haymitch shook his head, holding back his impatient rage. "And I was just being honest to her. She had the most potential last year."
"District 2 did."
She'd agree. That boy from Two did have potential, Plutarch and she both pinned him as a potential victor. But he was too full of anger and pride.
"Maybe but he was too full of himself to win. He couldn't play the game properly."
Haymitch said. "He played it the best. We both know he did. He was a favorite."
"Not as beloved as the two underdogs from an impoverished district." Her words were sharp and painful.
His fists balled up his shirt. He looked away from her to hide the sudden pain she'd inflicted on him.
"You know that from experience, don't you?" Sera pressed and Haymitch turned back to glare at her but she smiled. "I know a thing or two about it too. Though, Five's not as…unfortunate as Twelve but we're not that strong. We have the third lowest number of victors, closely followed by Six and," She looked at him. "Twelve."
"You're good." Though he was grinning, his eyes were burning with anger. "I'll give you that but like you said before, we don't have time for small talk."
He dug into his pockets and placed a pocket watch on the table. It wasn't as antique as she thought it would be. The silver-coppery metal was polished new with an uncracked clean glass face.
"You recognize this, don't you?" He pointed to the watch and then checked his surroundings once more. "You know who gave it to me."
"Does it matter?"
"Yes." He picked up the watch and closed its face with its metallic cover. "It does because he promised me that he'll get Katniss out."
"Only Katniss?" Sera asked with the watch in her focus. "No Peeta."
Haymitch sighed and shook his head while rubbing the back of his neck. "Peeta will understand. She's with his—"
Sera snorted and looked away, knowing exactly what he was going to say. Katniss was with child. She was pregnant. Katniss was. It might've fooled the Capitolites but she and anyone with a set of eyes and a working head knew better.
"You know how ridiculous you sound trying to convince me that."
"But she is, you heard Peeta." He tried not to wince when he lied. His lips moved side to side as he swallowed up more of his words. His lie was obvious.
"When asking for a favor, it's better to be honest." She echoed and Haymitch sighed. "She's not with a child."
"No, she's not."
"She seemed just as surprised as the rest of the Capitol."
"Could've given her the benefit of doubt."
"I have a niece and nephew." Sera pointed out. "I work in a clinic in the Capitol or the big hospital if they call for it. Back in Five, my aunt's flower shop also doubles as a clinic so I know a thing or two about the process. I don't know what to tell you but the only way I'd buy Peeta's lie is if I stuck my head down in sand."
Another sigh and his head lolled to the side as if talking to her was the most tiring and tumultuous task of his life. She could be so difficult, he never knew and he almost regretted approaching her.
Sera spared another glance at the pocket watch. She could still hear it ticking loudly.
"How much do you trust him?" Sera's voice was low, almost a whisper, as she leaned in closer to Haymitch.
Haymitch didn't hesitate, his eyes narrowing slightly as he considered her question. "I don't." He replied bluntly. "I'd rather trust you."
Sera's brow furrowed in genuine confusion. "Why would you even think of that?" She wouldn't even trust herself and it was a miracle that Finnick managed to still hold onto some for her. Trust wasn't something she took lightly, especially not from someone as jaded as Haymitch Abernathy.
A faint, humorless smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "You remember your victory tour?"
"I don't see what that has to do with you trusting me."
"I remember you—that year, smallest of the tributes, one of two that wasn't supposed to even get past the bloodbath but you got lucky—"
"There was no bloodbath that year."
"There was no bloodbath that year." He echoed back with a grin. "Whether it was luck or something else, you made it out. I remembered that. I remember how you somehow managed to get those non-careers to ally with you just by talking—putting down your weapons on the floor was a big gamble."
"They needed someone to forage and I needed someone or a few people to protect me. I lucked out because of the arena."
"But you still managed to make an alliance and you started outside the arena before the games had even begun."
Impatiently, she drummed her fingers against the table. The cold and sudden fog blurred her vision as she stopped and dug her nails into the table. "What're you getting at, Haymitch? Neither of us have the time to be talking in circles."
"I'm saying that the Gamemaker was being overly generous with you."
"Generous? Please, I wasn't even taken seriously at first despite my training score." Sera laughed humorlessly. "Were you trying to compare me to Katniss?"
"I don't know, maybe." Haymitch shrugged, his tone nonchalant, but there was a sharpness in his eyes that told Sera he was thinking hard.
"We had different Head Gamemakers."
"He helped pick out Crane." He stated, his voice flat. "And you knew that." Sera nodded slowly, knowing where he was going with this. Haymitch sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "Yeah, I know you did. That's why I'm telling you this. Something's off, and you've probably figured that out already."
She remained quiet, letting him continue. She didn't want to admit how much he had already pieced together—or how much she feared was still missing. What was clear to her was that Plutarch hadn't given him the entire picture. He'd only been offered a deal to get Katniss out nothing more.
Plutarch didn't trust him completely. He wanted Haymitch to have the half-truth, a contingency in case things fell apart. She'd do the same.
"When you got that guard assigned as your personal guard, that was the sign. None of the other victors got one. Just you." He paused, studying her reaction, but her face remained impassive. "You were like Katniss, no, you were worse than Katniss because you knew exactly what you were doing. You didn't just get lucky."
"Luck is really rare."
"It is. You didn't get lucky. No, you won and then they saw something in you—something they saw in Katniss." Sera snorted. The two were not alike at all. "I want to know how you really won—your allies, they just slowly got clumsier and angrier—that can't be a coincidence."
Huxley flinched and turned to Sera. His eyes throwing daggers at Haymitch. If Haymitch carried on, Huxley would actually gut him alive then and there like he'd done to his last victims. Before he could even move a muscle, Sera placed her hand on his, pinning him to his seat.
"It was a really cold arena." Sera reminded him with an innocent smile that didn't quite reach her hollow eyes. "But we're not here to talk about me—did you manage to secure any sponsors?"
His lips twitched and his jaws hardened as he turned away from her. "A few." He said, looking disdainfully at the Capitolites in the distance. "The Gamemaker said I'd get a few and I got a few. Apparently, there's been an increase in price and checks for sponsored goods."
Sera giggled. "Can you blame the system? Last year, a pair had enough non-essential goods to have themselves a little picnic in the arena."
"Not their fault that Panem wanted them to win."
"Never said it was." She crossed her arms and looked up at the ceiling light. "I'm just telling you that every action has a reaction." She said, her voice calm but firm. "It would be better for you to focus on essentials—medicine, food, and drinking water. The basics."
"You know, you're not the first person to say that to me. The Gamemaker said the exact same thing." His tone was casual, but there was a hint of suspicion lurking beneath.
"Did the Gamemaker also tell you to talk to me, or was it someone else?"
"The Gamemaker was just one of the three who told me that my best bet was you." Haymitch admitted, leaning back slightly.
Sera raised an eyebrow. "Who else?"
"Finnick." Haymitch's voice softened, the weight of the name hanging between them. "He was there with Beetee and Wiress, giving me a rundown of their silly little plan but Finnick was more desperate than anything."
Sera's expression hardened slightly. "So, did they tell you about the…"
"Rebellion." He covered his mouth with the glass he'd brought with him and whispered. His voice was muffled and distorted, too quiet for anyone to hear but Sera and Huxley both heard him loud and clear. "Yeah, I knew. I had a feeling that there was some talk about it for years—no, scratch that, I knew that there was something going on behind the scenes but I never really thought it would take off."
"You never cared."
He held up a finger to silence her. "No, you can't say that to me. Not you. It's not that I didn't care." He sucked in a deep breath and closed his eyes. "I need a drink."
"You couldn't afford to care." Huxley offered quietly, walking away to grab a bottle or steal one from the bar at the other end of the room. He came back and poured Haymitch a drink, not caring if there was a little bit of water still left in his glass.
Haymitch said nothing. He just held up his glass in thanks and took a swing of it, wincing at the taste despite the liquor being watered down. There was a small period of silence after that as he stared at the half-empty glass and let the clock tick by.
They still had an hour of recess before they were all herded back into the Observation Room.
"Whose side are you on, Seraphine?" He questioned. His voice cracked mid-sentence as he looked up at her.
That question again.
She kept control of the conversation so he would never get the answer wanted. Yet, he was persistent. She never wanted to give him an answer. She didn't know if the rebellion would succeed and if it didn't, she wanted a way out.
Before Sera could respond, Huxley spoke up, his voice firm. "She's not on any side."
Haymitch's face darkened. "Shut up, Foret." He snapped. "I don't have time to waste arguing with you. This isn't some game where you can just sit on the sidelines and watch. People are making moves, and those moves have consequences."
He turned his attention back to Sera, his gaze sharp and searching. "So, which side are you on? Do I have to worry about you turning us in or not?"
Sera met his gaze, her expression calm but serious. "I trust Plutarch." She admitted. "But I trust him as much as I trust anyone else from the Capitol—enough."
"Not too much."
"Good." He nodded to himself. "So I have to watch my back and theirs." He said to himself. "But he'll get them out."
"He has a plan."
"And so do you." Haymitch raised an eyebrow, a flicker of understanding crossing his features. "Your way out is playing for both sides—not a bad idea but it's not a great idea either."
Sera rested her head on her hand and smiled. "It's better than blind trust."
"You've got the most to lose, don't you?"
Sera didn't respond, but her silence was enough.
Haymitch let out a dry chuckle, shaking his head. "Katniss was right." He said, almost to himself. "You're not a bad ally."
"I could be worse." She said to herself and rubbed her forehead. "Back then…were you trying to rile people up or were you trying to warn them?"
"I wanted to see how many were in on this."
Sera nodded. That made sense, he was testing the waters to see if anyone would take the bait. "Not many." She admitted. "I know that Beetee had a small connection of former victors—I never checked on who it was—that wasn't my job but I know enough to tell you that not everyone of us here in the Capitol knows what's coming."
"So what was your job?"
She smiled. "Maybe the Gamemaker or Beetee can tell you that."
Haymitch fell silent for a moment, his expression unreadable. Sera assumed the conversation was over and began to turn her attention elsewhere, scanning the crowd. But then, Haymitch spoke again, his voice quieter, more serious.
"There's one more thing," he said, dragging out the words as if they were difficult to say. "Finnick... he wanted to tell you something."
Sera's eyes snapped back to him, her heart sinking.
"He wanted to say that he was sorry."
"Sorry…" She echoed back softly in disbelief. "Sorry? For what?"
Her breath caught in her throat as the realization dawned on her. Finnick was prepared to die in the arena. It was a cold, harsh truth that settled deep in her chest, making it hard to breathe.
The thought had occurred to her before; when she'd learned that he would return to the arena. In the back of her mind she kept that fear locked up but now, sitting in front of Haymitch and Huxley, hearing it from Haymitch, made her fear more real. Finnick knew that his chances were slim. She knew that too. Snow wanted him gone with the rest of the victors.
Still in the midst of processing Haymitch's words, she'd forgotten all about Huxley and his temper. "You didn't need to tell her that!" He snapped with his fists balled up but his voice quiet and sharp. "What good does that do?"
Haymitch met Huxley's glare with a tired, resigned look. "I'm just the messenger, Foret." He said. "It wouldn't have been right for me to keep it from her, not when I promised Finnick I'd keep an eye on her and pass on this message in exchange for his and Mags' alliance."
Tiredly, Sera nodded. "And…I'm grateful for that. Thank you." She said between pained breaths.
Somehow she managed to keep Huxley from noticing that she was on the verge of a breakdown. Her eyes were moist and her head was aching with a heavy pain. Then she felt it, a sharp pain in her head as the corners of her vision darkened.
A grotesque figure she was so used to crawled up on the ceiling. His clothes shredded, skin pale and gray as the concrete ceiling with bones jutting through his flesh. The embodiment of her fear, Eugene flashed a sharp toothy grin down at her with black blood dripping down his lips or what remained of it.
She shut her eyes, rubbing her forehead, willing him to leave her. Just when she felt the pain alleviate, she heard the door swing open and without even looking at it, she sighed.
Scarus entered with two Peacekeepers at his side. His expression was unreadable as he stepped forward, his gaze fixed on her. The Peacekeepers broke formation and blended into the crowd while he strided past them and the crowd before stopping right in front of their table.
"I'm here to collect Sera-phine for her appointment at the clinic." He began, his tone firm but respectful and much colder than before.
A quick surge of anger rose within her, she quickly forced it down and nodded in acknowledgement. She gathered her things and passed by him like he was air. Scarus' jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing at her blatant dismissal, but he said nothing.
Her eyes caught on Augustus' partner. For a second, she almost mistook her for Cashmere. Cashmere was in the arena. But the resemblance was startling. She felt a pang of something—regret or pain, she'd rather not think about it.
Huxley rose from his seat in protest but with a look from Sera, he stayed rooted where he stood, defeated and at a loss for words. Haymitch shook his head, signaling him to not intervene, a gesture that wasn't gone unmissed by Scarus. He would question her about that later.
Not another glance was spared at the other mentors or the guests in the hall.
Halfway through the corridor back to the entrance of the Training Center, Scarus stopped. He pulled aside a Peacekeeper and barked out. "Grab a med kit and bring it over to Augustus over at the mentor's lounge. He's injured."
A violent pat on the shoulder and he all but threw the Peacekeeper towards the mentor's lounge. Sera watched the nervous armor-clad man go, gracefully moving aside to let him go.
"I didn't know you were so kind." Sera joked bitterly, watching him though her mind was still running around trying to figure out Haymitch.
Scarus chuckled. "Just doing my part." He looked over his shoulder and flashed an inhumanely sweet smile that made her skin crawl. "It's nice you noticed."
"It's hard not to when it's not a usual occurrence."
Abruptly, he stopped. "I can be kind…when I want to be."
"I'm sure you can, Consul."
"Icarus."
"Consul." She repeated louder. "It's nice to practice kindness, better late than ever."
His cold gaze tried to cut through into her and she looked past him. He was air to her and he'd stay that way.
Sera watched as his knuckles turned white and his jaws clenched. He turned away from her, pausing every so often like he was waiting for more. A few questions or some mundane stuff.
She didn't spare him another word. She didn't want to. Her body ached and she kept thinking back to Haymitch. He was more desperate than he'd ever been. It wasn't like him to try and make friends. He preferred solitude and liquor. That was all he could afford.
He had a pocket watch. One that looked awfully like the ones Zephyr made and Plutarch carried. Maybe the two met—
She could hear Scarus' ugly and strangely tender voice call out to her. "Sera—"
Her thoughts scattered in an instant. She bit the insides of her cheek and took a deep breath before correcting her name. "Seraphine." She'd die before she let him call her 'Sera'. "And you were saying, Consul?"
Frustrated, he kicked the dirt beneath his feet and led her down the steps. "I asked if you were listening."
"No." She was honest. "I wasn't. I had more important things on my mind."
"Like?"
"Why did I have an appointment I wasn't even told of?"
"Because President Snow demanded that you do"
She swallowed the bile that rose up in her throat. "How generous of him."
Scarus nodded and held the car door open, waiting for her to get in. She got in without any complaints and he followed her in, sitting right next to her. She pressed her body against the window, away from Scarus, putting her coat down as a barrier between them.
The sun had fallen. Skies hard turned a deep shade of blue married with black with not a single star in the sky. Yet in the arena, it was probably bright and pleasant.
Uncomfortably, Scarus shifted in his seat. The silence between the two was more unbearable than usual. Sera made no move to hide her contempt towards him like before and he didn't like it.
"Before," He began, twisting his body like a snake towards her. "I asked you something."
"And I said I wasn't listening." She pressed herself closer to the door. Her gloved hand on the inside handle
"I heard you but I'm going to ask you again." His tone became lighter as if he was speaking to a child. "The speakers in the Observation Room malfunctioned and the audio cut off."
"We could hear the arena fine."
"That's not what I meant." He pulled the divider between them and the driver. "I was talking about the audio transmitting from the Observation Room, not from the arena."
"I think you're asking the wrong person."
He pressed his hand on her coat, deflating the barrier. "I am trying to ask you if anything happened in there?"
Her back was against the car door. A tug from her at the door handle and she'd tumble out of the moving car.
"Like what? Listening to Haymitch's drunken ramblings? His attempts to rule up Huxley and Augustus?"
"Is that all that happened in there?"
She laughed. Of course, he wouldn't believe her. No one would, not with how active Haymitch was being. "I'm not stupid enough to risk myself over Haymitch Abernathy." She stated firmly.
"What about his former tributes?" He countered. "You seem like the type to have a soft spot for the less…fortunate."
"And?" The car came to an abrupt stop. "You think Haymitch is up to something? You think the other victors are up to something?"
Scarus drummed his fingers against the side of the car. She flinched at the sudden noise and stopped herself from covering her ears. "Then why was Haymitch Abernathy sitting at the same table as you."
"I don't know…to annoy me." She replied, bored and tired before she softened her tone and scrunched up her brows. "He wanted…to pay respects to Wel—Julian Wells." Not a lie but not the truth. "The two and Chaff from Eleven were apparently drinking buddies."
"Is that all?"
"Huxley wouldn't have brought alcohol over to our table otherwise." She knew that with a single glance he'd committed everything and everyone in the hall to his memory. There was no way he missed the bottle of liquor. "You know I can't drink and Huxley is not that keen on drinking."
His drumming stopped and he threw his head back, leaning back into the tough leather seats. His gaze on the ceiling of the car. She thought that would be the end of his questioning but Scarus was never that kind to her.
"Last year and the year before there were reports of a few conspiring against the Capitol." He picked up her coat before she had the chance and grabbed her hand, pulling her out of the car. "You should remember," He nodded at the driver and slammed the door shut behind them. "You dealt with them."
Her wrist burned under Scarus' touch as she forcefully freed herself. "What's your point?"
He didn't speak. He just stared at his hand where her hand had been. He pursed his lips, a thin smile on his lips and his eyes cold as the winter sun.
"I'm worried about you." She pursed her lips and his smile deepened but he continued. "I'm sure that your empathy will get you in trouble."
His faux concern was enough to make her skin crawl. The ache in her chest flared up again and she balled up her fists with her nails digging into her gloves. A little more pressure and she'd pierce the fabric separating her skin and nails.
At least the pain would stop her from being reckless. Though her fingers twitched and the sharp hairpin on her head felt heavy. Scarus' throat was left clear and unprotected.
Her fingers twitched again and she patted her hair. The pin felt like it was slipping from her locks. She wanted to pull it out. Her fingers twitched again and she could smell the stench of blood on snow.
Scarus studied her, his own finger on the weapon on his belt. Yet his ears were focused on the street around them. They weren't alone. A few people watching the recap of the games outside on the large screens towering over the buildings nearby and a few people inside the hospital looking at them.
She pushed the pin back into her hair. She did promise her family and Finnick that she'd be careful.
Plant Dictionary:
Pimpernels - Change
Goldenrods - Be Cautious
Gooseberries - Anticipation
Fir leaves - Time
