The woods are full of whispers.

Of course they are. We were on the train for hours, where everything was silent and still, and now? There's noises all around - the rustles of a hundred thousand leaves, small animals, the twitter of birds. It's distracting, but. Well, the walking trail is nice. It's wooden plank boardwalks, the smell of tree sap is hanging in the air. It's well laid out, and the kind of smell that should remind me of the woods around Twelve.

It reminds me all about the woods around Twelve. But that, in and of itself, reminds me of death. Though, at this point, pretty much the same thing, Twelve and death.

What's so different from Twelve is. Well, this is forest that stretches for miles, and it's flat. There's other walkers - Capitolites, some blondes (probably from One),

"Haven't been back in years." Johanna's got an easy grin on her lips, the kind that's... well, rarer than it once was. "Well, a year. Or two, as it were. Last time was… just before the 75th, actually. After that I was in the Capitol, and then Thirteen, and then Eleven. Well, it just didn't feel right."

She tries for a smile, doesn't look like she's actually smiling but like a half-pained grimace. I feel bad, for a second, but she looks like she's trying. So hard.

"Mason." I take her hand, feel her squeeze it back. "Abernathy. Peeta didn't come, I'd have thought he-"

"Peeta is… busy. With Katniss, actually. They're busy, the both of them, and it's getting to that time of year when Burdock died, and. Well, with her mother away, and with Primrose."

I stop for a second. Hesitate, fail even at that as Johanna offers me a glance that says she knows. Understands everything. "I should… come 'round some time. But Maybe not at the moment – I'm not sure how she'd feel to see me."

I laugh, half thinking and half agreeing already. "You should. You and Annie. She's surprised enough you didn't go after Gale – I think seeing you would do her some good for closure. Let her wrap up Thirteen's portion, given she hasn't seen you since the vote, and."

"They got her." I nod. It wasn't like there was anything we could have done – the aftermath of the shooting was a mess. Still. I should have been there. Instead, it was some of Thirteen's who got to her first – dragged the Mockingjay away. Gale had tried to stop them, and gotten a rifle butt in the face for it. Peeta had taken a bite to the hand, a kick to the ribs. And then, well. One had arrived in the hours after, as had Paylor's Eights, Twos from the east, Sevens and Threes and Fives interspersed in One's army. It was a standoff for a day, and then careful negotiations as the various force commanders tried to push their own demands.

And Johanna had been whisked off to Eleven – decided that for her, it was better to stay in the woods of Northern Eleven than risk staying in the Capitol.

And I'd missed any chance of seeing Katniss before the trial. Tried to argue, but the interim government had declared it was busy.

Those thoughts course in my head long enough I can feel Johanna's eyes on me, staring and confused. "Haymitch. Are you…"

"Ok? Yes, Mason, I'm ok." My eyes roll, and then she's already glaring back, if she was a cat her hair would certainly be on end.

"Well then can we stop looking backwards? I know you never really knew him, but you said you wanted to be here. Because Kaolin was one of us. You may not have thought that, but I-I."

She tries to make the words come out, they don't. They catch in her throat, and I nod. A tiny bit more seriously. "He was. And I don't think he'd want us to be angry out here. Should we leave?"

She nods.

"Yes."

The sun is smiling down when we get to the exit. We haven't talked – the occasional glare has been enough. There's a tram just pulling in, and soon enough we can get on. Ignore the stares, the whispers behind hands, trust that nothing greater is going to happen. And to their credit, nobody causes a problem. We're allowed to go on our way, even as the silvery hum of another Six product sings beneath us.

From the city center, where I squeeze Jo's arm perhaps a little tightly and try to ignore thin, panicked breaths when she looks at the flowing river, it's a quick walk to the Victor's Village. Backing onto the rushing river and the edge of town, it's nice – warm looking. Inviting. The guards at the gate open it quickly enough, uniformed in deep forest green, and then we're through.

The houses are pretty enough – each deeply set from the walkway, each with the stairs leading up to the front doors and a similar set leading one, two paces down to a pair of glass doors. We take a turn at the third, head down, and soon enough can pass through unlocked doors into the main sitting room. There's already gathered figures inside – sat on a sofa, backs to us, and not even noticing us as they chat amongst themselves.

"All of them? You've come to all of them – don't you have things to do outside of this?" Audie's tone is incredulous, looking at the Ones with a shocked eye.

"Like what? Mink?" A light laugh from Citrine, and then she's leaning in, not even sparing Johanna and I a glance as she considers Audie's question. "Yes. In theory, I should be back home, there's always stuff for me to do nowadays. But given that our Victor's Village is the only one that has more than two active houses on a permanent basis, and that right now One's the District doing the best? Well, I can leave them for a time. Mink can take care of Aemilia, Millie and Poppy and the rest are fine. Allow us a little travel."

"Besides." Sable chimes in, and I can't see her face but can already feel her grin lashing against us. "It's nice to get out! Visit friends, or colleagues in some cases. Remember those we lost, even if. Well, you definitely knew them better than I did. But still, we lost them. I think that it's the least we can do to help you remember them. Besides, we'll be back in One, soon enough. Back home."

"Of course, and – Haymitch." The nod is welcoming, and Audie looks over at us. Finally. There's a white smile on his face, even as he looks to my right. Notices who's standing there, and looks at the least a little abashed. "Johanna."

"You've been getting busy without me?" I can already feel Jo's anger, and it's burning. Try to defuse it – while at the least a little entertaining to watch, that could be saved for later.

"Now, now." My voice quiets the room. "This is Johanna's house. Or at least, it's in her name. So, maybe we should all have waited. But, maybe it was me who took too long."

"Where's Peeta?" Sable's head cocks to one side, eyes filled with questions, and eventually I shake my head and laugh, just a little.

"With Katniss. She's… not in the best mood at the moment, and so I thought it was safer that they both stay home. Lucky for you, I'm about all of District Twelve you're getting." My laugh is a little harsh, but also. Well. It is funny enough.

"Oh."

"In any case." Citrine interjects, fist lightly rapping on the table as she looks around and then speaks. "I think we should get on with this – Kaolin would appreciate a little merriment I'm sure, but I do think that we should consider. Getting on?"

Johanna, flopping down in an armchair that probably weighs twice what she does, nods agreement. "Yeah. Kaolin. Where do I start?"

Camp 9

District Seven

18 PTD

Silence.

It's always silent at home. The sheets slip under his fingers, quicksilver-smooth, but they're just sheets. Nothing that should be slipping. He places both hands under himself, pushes upwards and still feels the bed rock slightly under him, like a branch. It's in his head, he knows it's all just… well imaginary, but when he's trying to push up and the only thing he can feel is that rock?

He pushes himself out of bed. Feet land on the floor, and he can already feel the cold pouring through his feet. Takes a step forward. Takes another, to the window, and feels the sun's warmth before he even pulls back threadbare curtains.

Still in night clothes, it's a short walk to the door. He pulls it back, feels the vibrations run up his hand and walks through the door. He's almost through when dad smacks into him – sends Kaolin falling to the ground, and though dad's trying to help him he can get up on his own. He has to get up on his own.

He's up soon enough, and dad's gesturing at him. Hand to head, to Kaolin, fist smacking into palm. The meaning's clear enough – Are you ok? Kaolin gives a thumbs up, and then is walking through narrow corridor to the main room of the house, sticking his arm out before walking through the door. Just in case, this time. He doesn't get it impacted, and sure enough when he passes through there's just nobody standing there. Thank the stars.

He can go to the table. Pull the chair out, smelling the woody scent that's still there a year after the table was delivered, and sit down in the chair, feeling it comfortably. It's nice – dad took two weeks to carve it. And it's one he can relax his head back into and not worry about siblings advancing with pokes or anything because the back is fully wood, not with the holes.

Breakfast is set in front of him – bread, tesserae but tesserae grain is good enough you can make it into slices, fried in the fire. A drizzle of berries atop is straight from the forest, and then soon enough it's gone. Half is daubed over his lips, but that isn't noticed until mom comes over, wipes some of it off his lips with a napkin. She'd probably said something, but. Well, it isn't like he could have heard her, anyways.

School isn't on today – is never on. Since he couldn't follow the teacher's instructions, and they didn't have the time to give a single child special treatment? Well, it was Kaolin out at nine years old, and ever since then he's just stayed home.

Albie, Pentet, and Ethyl all have school, though, and since they're still thirteen? Well, they have to walk a long way to get to the little kids' school, even when the big one is just next door to their tenement. So Kaolin heads back upstairs, pulls his going out clothes on, and soon enough is trailing after the other three as they head out.

They're talking – occasionally, one of them tries to sign to him. They forget a lot, because. Well, they forget. Mom never forgets, but that's different. And besides, it's not like he cares. Just because he's not as good on hearing as the rest of them doesn't mean he's any different. So he signs back, and responds to everything he can read off their lips, and does everything that he should do to prove that he's still, despite everything, one of their siblings.

After dropping them off, it's back home. The streets are still mercifully empty, and so he can ignore the stares at an unaccompanied child out this early, and be pretty sure that nobody's near him. Walk down the road, and eventually come across a pair of Peacekeepers. Just out on patrol, and one of them under the helmet starts waving a hand. The other taps Kaolin gently on the side of a head, the a little harder. Kao tries to raise his hands, to show that he's not got anything, points to his ears to show he can't hear.

It's still only when Mrs. Wickers comes out of her shops, tries to speak to the Peacekeepers and finally gets a brusque nod, that Kaolin is given a piece of paper. There's words on it, words he can kind of put together; Deaf. Allow due process. It's pinned, literally, to his shirt, and then he's given a pat on the back and pointed in the direction of home. Mrs. Wickers reteats back into her shop, and then Kaolin can go.

He runs home – there's no more Peacekeepers, and thank every tree in the forest for that because they're safe. He can instead run home, and see that everyone's out.

The rest of the day, he spends doing what he can. Mom has left instructions on the table – lunch is in the cupboard, he should try and brush up on his words, and then practice with dad's practice stuff. After all, even if he can't hear, can't take orders? Well, he can at the least become a contributing member of society. Do something the Peacekeepers won't complain about or give him trouble for, be able to shelter himself behind that idea of a model citizen of Panem.

"He was really deaf? From birth?" Sable's eyes are wide, and she's looking around at the rest of us as if we have any answers.

"Yeah?" Johanna's first to speak, eyes rolling and pointing to the book. "It's not like he was faking that, trust me. I knew him for four years, and every one of them I probably forgot a few times. He could still talk – he learnt signs in the Capitol even if he didn't want their hearing aids, and Blight got me a crash course."

"You did something nice for someone else?" Audie's drawl is silken smooth, but the shocked… question behind it is genuine. "Colour me surprised, Mason. Every time I tried to talk to you you weren't the nicest, even when Pine and Jenny were working so well together in the 72nd." He laughs, takes a drink from a glass of water set upon the table, and then returns to his words. "Must have been some guy, to make icy Johanna do something nice for him."

"He was home." Johanna snaps back, tempers already fraying. "He wasn't a volunteer, wasn't from Six or Eight or Twelve or any of your shit Districts."

Rude.

"He was from home. And he was always nice to me, besides. Trust me, if he was like Hick? Well, we wouldn't be having this conversation. You can do his chapter somewhere else, by the way. I'm sure there was someone who can stump up what they thought of him, but that someone isn't me."

"Moving on." Citrine, of course, tapping away at her handy and noting down everything, everything that's been said so far. So Kaolin. We don't have time to go through everything and hope there's something – what was his Reaping like, Jo? I know what it must have felt like, or at least I've been told enough times by people who didn't take matters into their own hands. So.

"Well…"

He's standing at the Reaping, in the lines with all the other 18 year old boys. At the back. The escort is on the stage, but what matter is it? It's not like he's going to get reaped with two Tesserae.

The girls are called up first, and craning his neck (not that he needs to much – Kaolin is tall enough as is) he can see a sniffling girl wander out of the fifteens section as if in a daydream, wandering up to the stage and not even trying to smile when the escort thrusts her hand in the air like the girl is cheering the prospect of going into the Games.

The escort dives his hand into the bowl again, and is shuffling around for a bit when his lips move, and the second name is called.

But nobody goes up. It takes a second of looking around before Kaolin realizes that's true, and there's no kids opening up closed circles, as if being Reaped is contagious. It takes a minute, two, before the Peacekeepers are barging their way through the crowd, and it must be a boy from the eighteens section because the eighteens section is the one being jostled.

One puts a hand under each arm, and he's half-helped, half dragged up to the stage. As if he's a sack of grain, or something of that nature. Eventually, he gets up there, and it hits him like one of the carthorses when he realizes why he's been dragged up, why everyone is looking at him with Seven's own brand of shocked pity, why the escort is raising his hand and the girl next to him is looking over in confusion and why the Peacekeepers dragged him up there in the first place.

Reaped. He's never heard the word, but the image of it is burnt into his brain, and he's trying to smile but there's big, wet tears burning up inside his eyes and they're spilling forth, and already the Tributes are being ushered off the stage. That's good.

He spends most of the hour inside getting to know the Escort. His family comes, but nobody else, and soon enough his Escort. No, she said Camilla is more than fine, Camilla has brought out a pen and paper from somewhere. He understands enough about writing that by the hour, he's managed to explain the problem, and she's promised that he can keep the pen and paper. The whole pad, not just a single sheet.

Plus, she's said the Capitol can help to mitigate the situation, and he doesn't know what mitigate means but truth be told he doesn't really care what it means.

"I mean…" Citrine's waving her hands, Johanna's passing over a death glare, Sable and Audie are laughing their heads off about the situation. I'm just sitting in the corner – above the whole situation.

"Sod off, Furrier. If I'd wanted your opinion, I would have asked for it. Kaolin never had it easy in life, he doesn't need your questions rolling over his grave. Might stop any trees from sprouting."

"Johanna, we were friends. We made jokes about deaf Reapings at least once." There's an unconvinced 'mhm' from Johanna, Citrine's tone becomes tinged with exasperation, and then she stands, moving to an armchair a little further from the present object of her ire. Namely, Johanna Mason. "And besides, it's a legitimate question. They should have developed a system for that, in Districts where…"

She trails off, a trail Johanna begins to follow. "In Districts where we didn't train our kids to kill? Is that what you're saying?"

"That's not-"

"Am I wrong?"

"…" There's a moment of silence, before Citrine sets her jaw, defiantly stares at Johanna. With a flash in her eye that suggests some anger, some… something.

"I did what was right for our kids."

Another thrown rock bounces off his back, and Kaolin turns. The Ones are both with him at the camouflage station, but the trainer isn't exactly helping much, and in the space? Well, he's felt more rocks plink off his back than he cares to think about.

To their credit, the Ones have put on a pretty gorgeous camouflage coating. Blended against the rocky sand that the floor is made up of, it's almost indistinguishable from the real thing, albeit. Well, it's human art.

Kaolin, by contrast, is struggling. He doesn't even know where Willow has gotten off to – doesn't particularly care to know at this point. She's dragged him over here, gotten him to do this, and then dumped him.

It feels like hours, like hundreds of rocks and thrown barbs that he can see forming on their lips, before Willow comes back. Taps hi on the shoulder, and waits for him to turn his head before smiling and waving her hand like nothing was wrong. He makes his signs – they've developed enough that she knows 'where were you', and can point in the direction of the other end of the station, a grassland covered in lush green. There's a few slim cuts on her hands courtesy of plants, but the rest is a hundred different shades of green. All paint.

Soon enough they're over, and she begins to paint his hand. Showing him how, smiling, speaking half a dozen times and then blushing and looking down. He hasn't got the paper and pen at the moment. They'd been confiscated – the Peacekeepers had written to him that they could be treated as weapons, and as a result? Well, despite the swords, spears and axes in the Training Center, somehow his pen would have been the most dangerous weapon a child could get their hands on within the Center.

The Ones are pointing at him, one of them (he thinks the boy, but honestly can't tell them apart) comes and pushes Willow over, but this time the trainer notices. Comes over, and Kaolin looks up in time to see the red-faced trainer shouting at the Ones, sending them away from the station.

"Children, children." Citrine and Johanna are glaring, Audie's half-standing and clearly ready to interpose himself between them. And so I maybe have to interject.

"You can argue on your own time. For now, Kaolin."

I turn to Johanna, question on my lips. Trying to defuse at least some of the tension, even as the room is filled with a sullen silence, and Audie gives me a grateful smile.

"Now. How did he do his interviews? I confess, I never watched his Games. Or any Games outside of when I absolutely had to. But, well. He was deaf, and didn't get anything going until after he'd won. How did he do any interviews?"

"Kaolin!" Lucky's leaning back in his chair, and Kaolin is already tired of this. There's a script on some glowing paper on Kaolin's lap – he just needs to write in his answers, and they'll be spoken out on the machine. Or, at least, that was what had been told via written notes from Camilla. He didn't know where Aspen was, past that his 'mentor' had been coming and going all hours of the day, and seemed all the more alcohol soaked every time he came back.

Kaolin can follow the words for what's being said, prepare his answers in advance rather than waiting for it to catch up. He doesn't know what he's doing, if what he's doing is even right, but the audience and Lucky are smiling, and smiling, some in the audience are even clapping. There's a big sign in the back, but he can't see it. Can't read any of it.

Instead, he turns back to his almost filled in paper.

Hello, Kaolin!

Hello, Lucky!

How've you found the Capitol so far?

Food's good. And it's been a nice change from home – but I'm looking forward to getting back.

And 4? Certainly a score – do you think you deserved it?

I don't – if you made it completely silent for everyone, I think we'd have a much more even competition. Call me silent but deadly.

Of course, of course. And do you have any plans for the Arena?

None I can tell you.

I like that! And what's your goal? When you get back, what are you expecting to do with your new found victory.

Well.

I'd love a nicer house, but that's in the package anyways. My family can all come. And I'd love some way to speak with people outside of this!

Good things to want! And Willow? She's said she likes your alliance, what do you think?

I think Willow is a valuable alliance partner. I'm sure that we'll do very well together! She's almost as good as I'm sure you would have been!

Three minutes of writing, answering the dozen or so questions put to him, before eventually the paper erases itself, and in that place comes in with a single word, all in capitals – GOODBYE.

He goes back to his chair. It may be his eyes, but he can see an ocean of clapping, and little else.

And it feels good.

We're still taking notes, even if Johanna and the Ones are ignoring each other save for Kaolin related discussions. We're going through it – Johanna wanted to talk about his life after the Games before his Games. How his family died in tragic accidents (and unfortunately weren't the only Seven Victor families to do so). How Seven made sign language a mandatory part of the curriculum, after all if there was a deaf Victor? Well, anyone could do anything when deaf, and Seven was favoured enough by the Capitol that they could get away with a single lesson a week not dedicated to something that was relevant to industry.

According to Jo, at the least, Kaolin was a pillar of the community. Didn't get out of the Victor's Village as much as he would have liked – the result of issues from the Games that meant kids were likely to be scared of him. But what he did do was. Well, a lot. When he was younger, he'd 'accidentally' have to give away food, always gave his parents a little too much to go out shopping and didn't accept them coming back home with money.

He's clamped the spikes onto his shoes, got his gloves, and he's climbing the rockface. It's the fastest way out , and he doesn't think One, Two, Four are behind him. Willow is, she's climbing, but he looks down frequently, is dizzied at the 50 metres below him and 50 more above. Still, the stone is soft – he can kick in and it holds, he can scrabble handholds with the gloves. He can escape.

He's in the jungle atop the cliff, knife in hand, when One's boy finally reaches him. Faces Kaolin, one mistake. Willow is out, it's been three days. She comes back to find him with One's sword in his hand, blood soaked through his shoes, and One's boy with a white smile on his face and a red one in his throat.

A slip. It was a slip. And now Willow's fallen – he looked down, to make sure. She's dashed like a cracked egg on the floor.

The jungle ended badly. The monkey came out of nowhere, and scratched him something awful. He covers the wounds in the antiseptic One had, hopes that's enough.

It's Four's girl last. She throws the trident, takes him through the leg. Comes closer, long knife in hand.

He swings the sword.

It sinks into her shoulder.

Deeper.

Deeper.

He doesn't know he's won until the hovercraft comes to collect him.

"How did he?" Audie's quiet.

"You never heard?" Johanna's incredulous, until he gestures to his stomach, and she can laugh. A bit rude, but that's the price you pay. "Ah. Sat out the war."

"He saved Iliamna." I interject, wave my hands. "During the night. That night."

How many of us died that day? Citrine and Sable share a brief look that says more than a million words could between them, Audie sighs, Johanna even closes her eyes.

"None of them deserved it." We all know it, and all nod in agreement. It's true.

Kaolin's not sure what's going on – the rebellion's go, but he wasn't in the Wheel when it happened. Still, he knows what's happened when he gets to the Tribute Center, sees it walled off.

There are secret ways, though. Chiefly fire escapes. He gets in through one, stumbles to the Training Center. It's where anyone will have gone – there's weapons, places to hide, it's the kind of place that of course a Victor would take refuge in.

There's one, trident in hand, and she waves a silent wave. Cocks her head. Points to the doors, but the rushing light tells everything. They've come in. Lights are off, and it's probably 250 metres in a pitch black maze of stations, but they're coming. There's only dim red light, enough to see shadows as the Peacekeepers run through white lit doors.

She tries to point to the ground, to say that she can stay. To say that she's more than willing to stand and fight. He shakes his ehad – can't see the gratitude in her eyes, but they embrace. Never were the closest, truth be told – at least he still thinks so, but they're in this together. They're Victors, that's all that matters right now. Victors in some grand alliance.

He throws a nod at Iliamna, sees the younger woman nod and turn and run and stumble away through the warrens towards an exit behind a panel the trainers were all told of out. A contingency, should issues rise. She does it - occasionally slipping but managing to make her way out of the room.

Then, he hefts his sword. They're coming. He's old – she's not. He owes them all this much, the family he made even if he wasn't quite over the family he'd had in the first place.

Plus. Every Peacekeeper now is one who'd not be available later. He's old, knew that he'd not be coming back to Seven Reaped or Mentor. Best to go out with a little dignity.

He manages to gut two, before a third comes up behind him. For a second, it feels like he's been punched with a pool cue sized fist in the back.

Then nothing. The last thing he sees is the ground rushing up to greet his face. The last thing he feels the sword dropping from nerveless fingers. The last thing he smells is the cool, sterile air of the corridor. The last thing he tastes, blood welling up from his throat and filling his mouth.

The last thing he hears is the only thing he's ever heard.