#lacuna chapter nineteen | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ilguna · 3 years

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Lacuna - Chapters 17-20 (f.o)

summary: they say the odds tend to favor those who need them. well, they were wrong.

warnings; swearing. HINTS AT CHILD PROSTITUTION.

wc; 10.4k

NOTES; I give reader a last name to fit the world.

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-- CHAPTER SEVENTEEN --

The room is unpleasantly quiet as it has been for the past couple of hours. You’ve waited patiently for a doctor or something to come in and assess you, take in your mental state or whatever while you’re awake. So they know that you’re not going to attack the first person that comes in.

No one has come, and you’ve tried to keep yourself busy, but there’s not much to do. You know not to take out the needles and the cords but if it gets them in here faster, then you might take off the one that is connected to your heart monitor. If it flatlines, then that means you’re dead. They’ll come running.

You’ve looked yourself over already. Your skin is smooth, free of any sort of blemishes that might have occurred during your stay inside of the arena. Scars, cuts, bruises, anything broken. They got rid of the scarring on your fingers from years of fucking up with the fishing lines and pricking yourself with needles and the hooks.

You’re free to move your body to the left, and when you do there’s no pain. Standing up, there’s a small sore area in your ankle, and when you look down, there’s no bruising, but there should be from the rope. You can picture the pattern of it now, dancing all around your ankle.

At least you’re able to walk on it with no pain. You move your head, neck, shoulders, torso, arms, wrists and fingers. Then down to your hips, legs, knees, ankles and toes. Your fingers move your nose, which is still tender, but it’s back in place, no longer settled in it’s crooked state. Any teeth that might have been broken are now back in place, and it seems they might have straightened your teeth while they were at it. When you run your finger along it, perfectly in place.

The ring from your mother is nowhere in sight. You’d had it on this entire time, your ring finger had swollen around it, rather than letting it slip off with the weight loss. You trust that they have it somewhere safe, they’ll give it to you later on.

Your nails have been cleaned of any nail polish and dirt. Your entire body is clean, actually. Which is what happens when you want a sterile environment to fix everything that had gone wrong while you were inside.

Tired of the waiting, and dying to see Finnick—wondering what they had done to him—you pull the electrical cords that are attached to suction cups from your chest and toss them to the side. You swing your feet, eyes on the door as you listen to the dull sound of the heart monitor.

The door swings open, and there stands your doctor, and Mags. Their panicked expressions relax immediately, and they come into the room a little calmer now. The doctor pulls out a clipboard from thin air, and you watch momentarily as she reads over it.

“I’m ready to go now.” you tell them, “Make me sit in this room any longer and I can promise you that it will not be pretty.” the doctor looks up, unimpressed, “I just came from the fucking hunger games, if you think that I won’t be able to get creative with the shit in here, you’re dead fucking wrong, doctor.”

Mags motions for her to hurry up, clearly not excited for what you have in mind. Or she gets that you’re anxious and you’re ready to get out of the sterile white room. Which is unexpectedly boring, nothing to do but listen to what used to be your heartbeat. Be left to your own thoughts for too long.

When the doctor is done looking everything over, she allows you and Mags to leave. Cleaning up whatever you might have messed up for her, especially the monitor, which has been blaring loudly for minutes now. Mags leaves you through the winding halfways, hand on your arm.

Elysia finds you two, and she looks relieved, “Not dead after all.”

You fight back the glare you want to give her, because despite being a Capitol citizen she’s so exceptionally rude. You’ve heard so much about some of the representatives that come from the Capitol. How all of them seem to have a stick up their ass or something about manners. And here you are, stuck with her. You haven’t liked her since the beginning, she’s negligent, and she doesn’t deserve to represent district four.

“Wouldn’t that have been a twist.” you give her a sour look, before down at Mags, “I’ll be seeing Finnick soon?”

“At the--” Elysia starts.

“Shut up,” you snap at her, “God, my fucking time in the arena was a vacation from you and your stupid fucking accent.” you let go of Mags as you turn to Elysia, who’s starting to look more afraid, “it’s your fucking faults that we have to fight to the death in the first place, you’d think you’d have more respect for a fifteen year old who just killed seven people. We provided you a show, now provide me with some silence, and fuck off until I actually have to see you for the ceremony or whatever. Bye.”

Elysia looks like she’s going to give you a piece of her mind, but there must have been a look on your face, because then she’s suddenly terrified, and she’s scurrying out of the hallway, away from where you and Mags are heading. You take her hand again, placing it on your arm and letting her lead you to where you need to be again. You don’t apologize or offer a snarky comment, because there’s no need to.

You’re sure that if Mags could speak, she would thank you for doing it. Tell you that you should have been a little bit bigger and threatening. If she’s lucky, then you won’t shit talk her in front of her own people tonight. Because that’s what's coming, the ceremony where Caesar will interview you guys, and you’ll watch a recap of the past thirty days.

For you, it might have been thirty, but for them it could have been two weeks, three weeks. The gamemakers make the time fly by a lot faster during the games to keep things flowing. Especially when there’s days in-between action, like there was with yours. You’re glad that there were only two mutt problems for you, and technically only two for Finnick too. You both had the bears, then you had the dogs and he had the thing at the bottom of the pond-lake.

You wonder if they’ll let you tour it by yourself. Go through and see the sites where your friends have died. Listen to them explain their deaths in detail, Blaire, Mac, Cass, Thyme, the careers… You wonder if they’ve put up a noose on the tree branch, with dummies to signify where you and Lennox had been. The placebo body in the leaves, and Trink’s body sprawled across the grass.

To go back and torture yourself to see everything in a beautiful scenery would be interesting. See where your mind would wander off to, and if it’d take you with, or put up a shield to avoid doing too much damage. As if it would understand that seeing certain scenes again, like district ten’s decapitated head, Lennox turning purple, the girl getting caught in the rope when Finnick killed her…

Mags leads you to Laurel, and Laurel calmly explains that you’ll be seeing Mags later. So, you hug her goodbye and you let Laurel lead you the rest of the way. Her heels click against the cement ground, and she begins to explain what you’ll be wearing tonight. You tune in and out, and after a while, she seems to understand what’s wrong.

“I’m not going to give you congratulations.” she tells you, fixing your hair from your face, “killing people is no feat. What is a feat, is getting passed today and the next few months. May you achieve peace in whatever way you can find it.”

“Thank you.” you nod at her, she tells you that she won’t be joining you for lunch, and leaves.

Somehow, her words were more of a gift than the congratulations that she withheld. She knows that the peace will be hard to get, that the nightmares will start plaguing you soon, quite possibly when you’re back home with your family, and everyone else you had grown up with. There’s nothing more terrifying than bringing nightmares from the arena back home. Sitting by hopelessly as your mind replaces the tributes you killed for the people you love.

Inside, you’re sat with your stylists, except for Laurel. They waste no time, jumping straight into them telling you that they’ll be getting you ready. You left the room earlier than they had expected, so it leaves you the lunch and then you truly have hours to get ready. They can properly take their time, rather than speeding.

They give you a fairly large amount of food, and you’re sure it’s because of how much you were eating inside of the games when possible. Your stomach must have shrunk a lot if it takes one serving of stew, two rolls and a handful of vegetables. When you were first coming in, you were eating as much as you could possibly afford. Three, four servings of stew, five bread rolls, more than just a handful of vegetables.

You’re not that hungry when you finish, though. Which is when they stand you up and bring you to your room. You strip free of the clothes that were laid out for you—what you had worn inside of the arena. Although, none of it is ripped, dirty, got water damage or whatever. It’s pristine, it looks just like it had when you went into the games.

The jacket is first, then the boots, shirt, pants, bra and then your underwear. There is no shame in front of these people, you’re as hairless as you were when you had first gone into the games.

“Wow, no scars! That’s fantastic!” One of the girls runs her fingers along where your ribs are, “You’re so lucky.”

The other girl nods quickly, “Very expensive! But anything for the victors.”

They take you to the showers, taking down your hair. The first girl, you think her name is Beth—she always says it so quickly, it’s hard to tell exactly—goes to work with the settings on the shower. While the other two scrub your hair and body.

Beth and the other girl talk a lot more than the boy does. But he seems just as animated at they are when it comes to conversation. Always talking about what was going on, how they knew that you and Finnick were going to win. How excited they were when it was announced that two victors could win.

They split off when you’re out of the shower. The guy goes to work at your hair, Beth with your nails as the other does your makeup. You occasionally let in your opinion just to hear them marvel about how amazing and cool it was. They’re very considerate when it comes to mentioning certain things, like they don’t want to tick something. Laurel must have been specific. Or Elysia had gotten to them before you did.

You wouldn’t mind it from them, but Elysia should know better. Beth and the others don’t understand what it’s like to be in the district. Elysia comes every year, she sees the type of houses you live in, the jobs you work.

At least with the others they’re nice. Elysia hasn’t cared since the beginning, so you’re not sure what she wanted from you. If she can’t show basic respect, then why should you? Let’s antagonize the girl that just came from killing seven people, as if that’ll go well.

Once they seem to be done with your hair, nails and makeup—which took forever since they had taken their time—Laurel comes in. She offers you a smile, before making you step into the dress.

It’s baby blue, and poofy and frilly. They’re playing up the girlish look again, but there’s no point. Everyone saw you, they heard your plans and watched as you deceived. There’s no one to pretend for anymore. The districts know your real personality, the only people that might eat it up would be the Capitol.

They give you white flats that are lacy on the sides. A few jangly bracelets on the wrists. Rings, earrings, necklaces, small anklet for the cuteness effect. Then they let your hair down to complete the entire look.

“Move around.” Laurel instructs you. You twirl, do a series of walks with different hand positions. You smile, and try to blush but the innocence of what you had before is absent.

When she feels like it’s enough, she then stops you.

“Alright, curtsy a little bit, we’re going to try to win the audience over as much as possible.” she tells you.

You cross your ankles, two hands on the bottom of the dress as you lower yourself with a light smile. Laurel makes some adjustments while you’re down, but she compliments you when you stand. You look young, innocent and no one would believe that you had just won the hunger games.

She then launches into conversation with the other three as they lead you to where you need to be. You ignore conversation, watching the avoxes and the peacekeepers around the occasional corner. They mostly avoid eye contact with you, but a few will look you over, and be just as confused as you are. What are they looking after?

There must be some sort of rumor floating around now. It’s only a matter of time before it lands itself right in front of you. And then you’ll be able to see why people seem to square you up, and then deflate like they’re disappointed.

Is it tough? Is that what you’re known for? Was the stunt with Lennox enough to make a big name for yourself? They expect you to be all hard ass because you had been a traitor and you should have died in that arena time and time again, but you prevailed. You defied the odds, you were more merciful and merciless. You wonder what they call you, because it can’t be anything pretty.

You guys go up the elevator to the training center. This is where you’ll stand with your prep team and mentor and escort and everyone else. Finnick will be on the other side to greet you. It’s not uncommon for the Capitol to go wild at the reunions of victors.

Most of the time, the victors are friends, lovers or very rarely, siblings. Which is when the reunions are the best, since they’re crying and throwing themselves on each other. Though, there are the times when the tributes have heard of each other in the district prior to the games, the only real interactions they have with each other is during the training and all of that. Their reunions consist of nods and if the Capitol is lucky, they’ll hug.

That hardly happens, as usual the winners come from the careers. This will be the first time for district four where they bring two back. Your district will be excited, the Capitol people are probably excited as well. They’re so used to the other ones that outer districts—four and everyone else—are more exciting.

They call you guys exotic and surprisingly when it comes to your answers. The careers are trained in how to act for years. For you guys it’s all improv, you have no idea what you’re doing which can be both a downfall or your ride. The only people that can truly direct you are the mentors. And even then, they have no clue what they’re doing.

Winning the games can be on skill or luck. The people who win on luck have nothing to offer for their tributes. People who win on skill can pass that down.

You and Finnick have a combination of both. Genuine skill of throwing knives, hunting and making fires. Basic knowledge on medicine in case one of you were to get sick—even though that hadn’t helped at all. And luck was Blaire saving you, and Finnick finding you, and being able to get that rope around Lennox’s neck, and being able to throw that spear into him even though you were hanging upside down, hardly conscious and swaying.

Anyway, Laurel and the others break off to change into their own outfits, leaving you standing there. Alone to your thoughts because there’s no one else to fill the silence. You spend the time counting the little things around the plate that you’re standing on. Which matches the flooring above you, presumably.

You brush dust off of nearby things and hold back sneezes when it wafts back into your face. Shifting on your feet almost impatiently, but you still feel worried that you might end up collapsing from the sickness that you had. It’s like a phantom, you don’t have it anymore but it feels like you do.

After a considerable amount of time, you can faintly hear Caesar’s voice and the roaring of the audience that comes with it. You make a little bit of last minute changes, dust of anything that might have attached itself to you. Watching as your hand starts to sparkle because of the stuff coming off of the dress.

And then, you hear the prep teams get introduced. You turn to where you’ll be facing, taking deep breaths, reminding yourself that they are not the enemy. They’re just here for a show. They want to see you pretend to be excited.

Elysia is introduced, then it’s Laurel and Pleurisy. Louder cheering since they were the ones who organized the costumes that you two had worn. Then Mags gets some cheering too, you can imagine her waving now.

You stand tall, squaring your shoulders and placing a smile on your face already. It’ll widen into a grin when you’re above ground.

And then the plate starts to go up, you catch your balance before you’re in sight of the audience. The lights make you squint for a moment, but your eyes get used to them quickly. As soon as you can see, you notice the audience.

The plate shakes from the roaring, they’re on their feet clapping, yelling, whistling—you can barely hear it all. It’s turned into a solid sound barely about to be distinguished.

You turn to the presence beside you to see Finnick’s white smile. A slow smirk comes over his face as he offers you one of his arms. You take two swift strides before you’re hugging him.

“Almost home.” Finnick murmurs into your ear, you laugh lightly.

“That’s what you’re worried about?” You ask, looking up to him.

“You’re not?” He asks lightly, eyes flickering to your lips for a moment, and then he moves right in.

He pulls you closer for the kiss, it’s a couple of seconds of sweetness, before the both of you are smiling and it’s ruined. That doesn’t stop you from hugging him a little longer though. Because you do have to admit, it feels good to be in his arms again. To see him alive and well.

He’s everything that you remember, and you’re glad that he’s constant. Nothing has changed just yet, and you hope that it stays this way.

After a couple more minutes of cheering, you and Finnick finally sit at the love seat. This year, it’s white, very faintly a shade of grey added. Over the back is a blue blanket, you can see the obvious display of the ocean on it. Just for Caesar, you run your fingers over the fabric, taking in how soft it is, before you sit on the couch.

Finnick pulls you into him, not offering you the chance to sit away. His arm is wrapped around your waist, ensuring that you stay there. However, with you leaned against him, the sparkles start to rub off. It’s fine, you think. It’s just going to look odd when the both of you stand up.

He has a tan shirt on, a watch on his right wrist—weird in your opinion—but on his finger is a ring with a wave on it. You hold out your hand to see your mothers ring on yours. Reaching over, you take his right hand, pulling it right next to yours. Then, you look up to Laurel to see her wink.

Solidarity.

“We’re engaged.” Finnick teases.

“Shut up, you’re fourteen.” You let go, smiling at him.

“Won’t be in a couple years—“

“Then get back to me then.”

Caesar then introduced what you guys will be doing, a couple of jokes mixed in to make you feel comfortable. Everyone knows this part, your family back home will be watching this. It’s mandatory.

Finnick seems to squeeze you, he understands and he might be looking for that comfort too. So you offer your hand to him, he takes it gratefully and you’re squeezing there too.

Reliving the worst part of your life is not going to be easy.

The first part you watch the reaping, and your half a second debate on whether or not to run. Then Finnick joined you a minute later. There you can see you two actually posed a genuine threat against everyone else in the arena.

The chariot ride was when you had a few sponsors fawning over you. How excited they were to see that district four had a couple of studs—thanks to the commentary, you’re not very thrilled. How you and Finnick were linked together and seemed like friends.

The training scores follow, with yours and Finnick’s ten, another tell that you two would be winning. The only threat all along was Lennox, and his stupid ten too.

It moves on to your interviews, and they don’t forget to include the little hand holding when you and Finnick got back to each other. The audience sighs, and you watch as Finnick smiles a little bit.

Then it hits the arenas. Panning around the tributes, assessing their situations and positioning their bodies for the goals. You watch yourself get there first, and that is when you stop watching. Unfortunately, you can still hear it, no matter how loudly you recite the poem from when you’re sick. Finnick holds your hand a little tighter for all of it.

You feel relieved the moment he nudges you. But you can see that it’s the ending, you have to at least watch the ending. How you climbed up the tree, spear swaying in the wind. Finnick preparing the body, Trink and Lennox gearing up to hunt you guys anyway.

You getting up on that branch, cutting off the rope, telling Finnick you’re ready as you tie the constrictors knot. Holding the rope up high enough so that the others can’t see it. Then Finnick screams.

Trink and Lennox hadn’t hesitated when they heard the scream. They started running almost immediately, Trink reaching back for Lennox. They reach the place, and that’s when it all goes down.

It focuses on Finnick mostly, but you guys are able to see when you skip the rope around his neck. You’re not too thrilled when they show you throwing yourself off, but cuts to Trink dying, a slit throat, and then she got stabbed through the forehead.

And then Lennox’s zoomed up face as the rope closed in around his neck and choked him. How he had reached for the knife but must have realized that there was no point, the fall would kill him. And you were dangling, staring at him horribly.

Finnick throws his spear, missing Lennox but landing in the tree. You hadn’t realized it before but you were breathing heavily, the cameras were able to pick up on it perfectly as you prepared and then throw the spear.

It ends with a shot of you unconscious, arms and leg relaxed, face red from the blood rush or maybe from the fever. A knife barely hanging on in your waistband. Then it cuts to Lennox, blood all over his face, purple, dangling just the same as you. It zooms out, letting you take in the whole picture.

Then the anthem plays and you and Finnick are standing. He holds your hand tightly, watching as Snow boards the stage with a couple of kids bearing the crowns.le scene.

It ends there, which is when President Snow comes in, and Finnick is helping you to your feet. Still holding onto your hand, like he’ll never let go of it at this point. Behind Snow is a couple of kids holding pillows with crowns on them.

This is when Snow first places the crown on Finnick’s head, Finnick tries to bare his chest like he’s proud but he wants to flare, you can see it. Next is you, and Snow offers you a small smile, you thank him for the crown.

After that, there’s a lot of cheering from the audience. You guys bow a couple of times, and you’re careful to not let the crown slip from your head. At the chance, Finnick pulls you against his body, he kisses you again, for the final time in front of the audience.

Then, you guys are finally dismissed, a reminder for tomorrow’s interview follows, and then you’re gone. Elysia and the others take you to the president's mansion for the celebration. You can hardly act happy as you’re forced to take pictures and pretend that you’re having a good time.

In the beginning, Finnick had gotten whisked away but a group of girls. So you’ve been wandering the part alone, faking smiles and trying to keep the conversations short. When you find Maga, you stick fairly close because people don’t bother to talk to her anymore, which is sad.

Finnick shows up some time after, but he’s not in the mood for talking. He holds your hand and looks distant, when you ask what’s wrong, he tells you that he just received some news from back home about his family. He doesn’t elaborate because you don’t ask. Finnick is genuinely upset over whatever it is.

The night wraps up soon, and you two are taken back to your floor in the training center. Finnick doesn’t ask to join you, he just does. When you lie down next to him, his head rests in your neck. It’s silent for a while.

And then he bursts into tears.

-- CHAPTER EIGHTEEN --

At breakfast, you basically have to inhale the food. Laurel sits patiently at the end of the table, but you can tell that in no way you’re allowed to take your time. When you’re done, you kiss Finnick’s forehead, and then leave him to deal with his own stylist.

The walk is brief, and soon enough you’re stopped in front of your prep team. They’re talking to each other, almost ignoring you as they get to work. Laurel leaves, and you’re left to your own thoughts for a couple of hours.

More specifically, last night. When Finnick had finally opened up about what had happened. Why he was gone for so long that night, and what’s going to happen from now on.

He was with President Snow for almost the entirety of last night. You had been with him for merely thirty minutes at the beginning, for the lucky few who got to take pictures with the both of you. A few conversations here and there, you and Finnick were attached at the hip.

And then he had gotten swept away with peacekeepers first, but later you saw President Snow with him. However, it wasn’t what you thought it was. It wasn't a friendly conversation of Snow showing him around and how he felt about the games. Snow had made a proposition, almost.

It wasn’t a choice, but Finnick had tried to make it into one by defying what Snow had wanted. He told Snow a flat out no, and told him that he didn’t have to and that there was nothing he could do to change his mind. Snow threatened his family and when Finnick called his bluff…

Finnick has no family to go back to in District Four. They’re gone, just like that and you can imagine how everyone at home is feeling. They know something went wrong if Finnick got his family killed just like that. And you can imagine that they know that he knows about it. Peacekeepers don’t just go into houses and kill people for fun. It’s on orders.

Finnick was going to try to keep it from you. Snow had told him that it needed to be a secret, but he knows that eventually the word will get out on why Finnick isn’t at home, enjoying his new house in victors village. Snow knows that you’ll find out one way or another, and it doesn’t even have to be from him. People talk and rumors spread faster than disease does.

If it weren’t for Finnick begging you to keep this quiet, then you would have caused a scene already. You would be planning to do it in today’s interview, but you can’t. Finnick told you that you owe him for keeping you alive, for saving you when he did. In return he wants you to be quiet and let this be on It’s own.

He’s afraid that if Snow finds out that you know, Snow will hurt your family too. Finnick believes that he won’t be able to live with himself. But you told Finnick firmly that your family is his family now. He can take all of his stuff from his own house and move it into your victor house. He doesn’t have to live alone, and you won’t let him anyway.

He’s yours just as much as your his. Nothing he does in the Capitol will change your view of him. Or how much you cherish and love him. It won’t change the memories, it won’t turn them bitter. You know that it isn’t his choice, and if he could, he wouldn’t be doing it at all.

After the victory tour, Finnick will be required to be in the Capitol. The only times he’ll come back is when the demand for his body is low or nonexistent. The only other time is during the time for the games, since the both of you are mentors now. You fully intend to take over for Mags, and Finnick wants to have those couple of weeks with you.

Finnick will be sold around in the Capitol for desire. Snow just made Finnick into his own personal prostitute. Finnick was kind enough to inform you that he isn’t the first and he won’t be the last. The only thing Finnick gets out of it is the money, which he’s going to have a lot of anyway, thanks to winning the games.In fact, you were supposed to be included in on it. Supposedly, if one person were to buy Finnick, then that means you would go along too, just double the price. The person buying wouldn’t have a choice, where one goes the other will follow.

Snow had thought that would make the entire thing better, but that’s where Finnick had drawn the line. Saying that Snow could make him his bitch, but lay a damn finger on you, and Snow would regret it. Victors honor. Snow decided that it might be a little too much, and considering that you still have family left, it would be difficult to pry you away from them.

Then he made some deals with a few people that would take Finnick right off the bat, and you nearly puked when you heard that most of them were your own sponsors. People who had cheered you on in the arena had done it so that either of you could be sold around for sex? And now that the option had presented itself, it’s perfect. They could take their grabs at Finnick as much as possible. Until he has to go home for good.

The demand for him will drop off for good eventually. If he’s only getting one or two requests a week, or even a month, Snow will probably let him go. After all, there will be new waves of tributes who could be seen as desirable as he is.

You feel selfish for being disappointed that Finnick won’t be by your side when you have nightmares. That he won’t be there to comfort you when you’re in a state of panic. When your mind still thinks that you’re inside of the arena, and that broken plate was a warning that something was coming.

You won’t be able to return that favor for him. Instead, he’ll be waking up in some strangers bed every single day and night. They’ll be comforting him after he has a particularly bad nightmare. And after what had just happened, it can be a number of things. The games in general, something about you, his brain creating scenarios where he has to watch his parents and siblings die over and over and over.

You love Finnick, and to know that he’ll be dealing with his own problems when he had the possibility of being able to lean on someone, is so agonizingly painful. You really hope he’s not beating himself up over the same thing. It’s a normal for boyfriends to be there for their girlfriends. But he can’t do that if he’s being sold around.

As long as he’s trying to be happy during his time in the Capitol, then you’re sure that you’ll be able to deal with it some. A couple weeks at a time, you think. Snow will let him come back every couple of weeks to see you and everyone else in the district. Then, he’ll be brought back to the Capitol, and the process will repeat.

Beth and them begin to wrap things up. The final polish and the drying of the nails. A few more dashes of highlight to make your cheeks pop when you’re in the light. Beth instructs you to stand a little taller, stop slouching. This time your hair is out of your face, but still curled. There’s a couple hairs here and there that hang in your face on purpose.

“Alright, we have to get out.” The guy grabs the girls, gives you a wave and then they’re out of the room, Laurel waits for them to leave, and then she comes into the room. A sand-colored dress is draped over her arm.

“A simple look tonight. We want you to be comfortable.” she tells you, unzipping the back and making you step into it again. After she’s zipped the back, and fixed your hair in the back, she turns you to her. Taking your hand to slip on your mothers ring, but doesn’t move her hand.

When you look to her, she’s serious looking. There’s no hint of fun--not like there normally is, it seems like Laurel is a very serious person--nothing like a joke, “I assume you already know what’s happening with Finnick?”

Frog in your throat appears and you swallow to keep from crying. You can’t mess up what they just did on your face, you’ll have to be out in the cameras in the next ten or so minutes. If this is a couple of hours of work, then there’s no possible way that they’ll be able to fix it in time.

You nod, and Laurel sighs, fixing the dress on your shoulders, “Pleurisy and I are going to try our best when it comes to keeping him from going around too much,” when you open your mouth to say something, she continues, “We’ve got the cash to do it. Thanks to you and Finnick, our lines have taken off. It’s the least we can do.”

“Thank you.” you sniff, she smiles a little bit.

“Ruin your makeup and I’ll kill you personally.” she pats your shoulder, before she leads you over to the jewelry.

Again, you load up on everything that she wants you to. When you’re done, you feel like you weigh ten more pounds. It’s a lot of jewelry, all to make you pop more on camera. She says that it’ll make you look like you’re enjoying yourself in the Capitol, that you’ve begun to buy things with your newly acquired money.

When she’s done, Laurel takes your arm and leads you down the hall to where you’ll be interviewed. Tonight, it’ll be personal with no audience to intimidate you. Just you, the camera men, Caesar and Finnick. That doesn’t mean you should exactly speak your mind though, the Capitol and maybe the districts will be seeing this.

Inside the room is where you see Caesar. He comes from where he’s talking to someone, to you. There’s an immediate hug, and then he steps back to look at you, “Absolutely gorgeous! Your stylist is amazing.”

“I know, I’m glad that she’s finally getting noticed for her work, as well as Finnick’s stylist, Pleurisy.” you tell him.

“Would you believe me if I said that I was wearing their work?” he asks, and then he takes a step back so that you can see. And you see it in the sparkles littered around, it seems to be a signature. Your past dresses had that effect, but they hadn’t came off when they were rubbed.

It seems like yesterday's dress was a one-time thing, “It looks great on you! The navy blue fits you.”

“I see we’re all trying for a theme.” Finnick's voice interrupts you two, and you turn to see Finnick in a black suit, catching the light here and there, he shines.

“Wardrobe malfunction! No time to change, though.” Caesar winks, and then he goes to take a seat on his single.

You and Finnick are on the loveseat after that. His left arm around your waist, right hand in yours. You can see the ring again, you hope that he keeps it in his time in the Capitol. It seems so close but truly it’s far. The Victory Tour will take a while, it’s not a couple day thing, celebrations in every place are going to be big. At least two days in each district, and more in your home.

The cameraman counts backward, you feel like you’re a robot when you smile automatically when it hits zero. Finnick squeezes you, and you give him a certain look to tell him no funny business. Not funny enough, he seems to be giving you the same look with his eyes, almost a plea to be on your best behavior. You nod, you never had any intention to do otherwise.

You owe him, or so he says.

Caesar introduces you two as if the entire nation still has absolutely no clue who you are. You wave and smile, Finnick gives you a quick temple-kiss and then you’re right in to the friendly talk from earlier.

“So, remind your stylist’s name.” Caesar starts.

You mock an offended gasp, “You’re wearing her and you don’t know her name? Caesar!”

He laughs, “What can I say? I get around.”

Finnick laughs, “Are you wearing Laurel of Pleurisy?”

He thinks for a moment, “Laurel?”

You dramatically fall back, “He doesn’t even know. An upcoming famous stylist and he can’t even remember.”

It’s all fun and games. Caesar is very smooth with his responses, charismatic. If he were in the hunger games he would have simply won over sponsors with his charm. You know you would have been convinced. It’s hard not to believe in someone who has so much confidence.

Which must be why the careers get so many damn sponsors.

“I have a few questions.” Caesar eventually transitions, you shift slightly against Finnick, squeezing his hand, “The first is, when did you know that you were going to turn against them?”

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

One simple deep breath, and then a wobbly smile to follow, “The beginning. During training and all of that. I wasn’t planning on keeping them around for long.”

Caesar nods thoughtfully, but it doesn’t end with you, “And Finnick, running off with Thyme?”

You can practically see the blood run from his face, “Ah--well, it wasn’t really running off. I had thought that she was going to meet us after the waterfall shortly after. The tension in the group was rising, I didn’t think it would be smart to stay after Eytelle had died.”

He’d made the wrong turn. You’re sure he’s only asking these questions because the Capitol wants to know, but either way it’s stressing you out. It’s giving you more to think about. You’ll have plenty of time to dwell over this when you’re trying to sleep at night, so why do it now too? In your small moment of peace.

The questions aren’t much lighter after that. Caesar wants to know all the details when it comes to Allio and then eventually Blaire. You tell him the truth, that you hadn’t liked Allio since the beginning, but the plan was originally to kill Lennox, then you decided to get rid of the guy that was more paranoid. You made a friend out of Blaire because he was kind and needed help. He was as helpful to you as you were to him. It was a mutual friendship.

Then came Lennox, saving Finnick from the monster in the pond-lake and getting sick. You had kinda seen the Lennox and Trink thing coming, they weren’t stupid and they were going to figure it out sooner or later. Finnick was an obvious choice, years of swimming in water and holding your breath came in handy. Getting sick was the worst thing that ever happened to you.

Finally, Mac, and then the stunt at the tree. You were worried for Finnick when he had left to check things out, of course. Relieved when he came back fine, and a little bit mad that he went down to the cornucopia by himself, where he could have gotten hurt.

The stunt of the tree isn’t as easy to brush off. He gets into the little details. You tell them it all in order. The tree is the highest thing to hang from, and you chose to hang Lennox because he had choked you in the cornucopia. Also because your last name is Gallows, and since they were so fond of calling you that, you thought you might as well utilize the nickname against them.

You cut the rope for yourself, you knew you weren’t strong enough to pull him up by yourself. You explained how to tie the constrictors knot and how you knew to tie it in the first place. This is when you give a tribute to your family back home. Finally, you get to the part where you throw yourself off of the branch and hang in the air.

Caesar tells you a detail that you hadn’t realized, nor had anyone told you. That your left leg had dislocated when you had fallen off the tree, which you could have guessed if you’re being honest. You hadn’t heard it pop or anything because of the bloodrush to your head, the headache, the fever, the pain in all the other parts of your body… there was no room for your leg to hurt. It would have to get in line with the dozen other problems you had going on.

During all of this, Finnick is giving his side of things, but he’s mainly letting you talk. You’re sure he appreciates it, because he’s in no shape to be talking about all of this, with what had happened when it comes to his family. It’s just another bitter reminder that he has no one to tell all of this to.

Very last, the spear. You told Caesar that it should have fallen out of your belt loop the second you fell, but it was holding on by a thread it seems. You threw it to end Lennox’s suffering and also because the image of his purple face will be permanently embedded in your mind. There’s no reason to make it go on any longer.

Sprinkled in by Caesar are some cute questions about yours and Finnick’s relationship and where the both of you will be going after this. Finnick answers this part, feeling like he hasn’t talked that much, and says that you two will still be together. But his and your family back home will probably appreciate it if you two toned it down. To hear him talk about his family is painful, knowing that there is none. He says that he doesn’t want to be killed by your brothers as soon as you two get there, and he looks forward to meeting them. You can picture them laughing at the joke now. They’ll love Finnick, you know it.

They’ll never be able to repay the fact that he kept you alive when you were sick. When he had saved you from dying in the woods after Lennox had just nearly killed you. The second that you, Finnick and your family have a moment alone, you can almost guarantee that they’re going to thank him and welcome him to the family. Make him promise to buy you a ring at eighteen or some dumb thing like that. You’ll be married before you hit twenty.

Soon, it’s the end. Caesar says his goodbyes, and you’re standing up and off of the loveseat. Your farewell to Caesar is very, very brief, you push your way out of the room, out of the ways of the invading guests. Finnick follows behind you, you can feel his presence all the way to whatever room you end up in.

There, you take deeper breaths, pace around the room and wipe any straggling tears to make sure that your eyes don’t get any bright ideas. You manage to do it, the tears don’t come and Finnick says that nothing was smudged.

He knows you’re not alright, and you know he isn’t either. Him being there is enough.

As long as he’s always here.

-- CHAPTER NINETEEN --

The car ride to the train isn’t that long. You spend the time staring at the floor mostly, not too interested in the color fest that’s just outside the blackened windows. You’d rather try to forget that this all happened, but it’s going to be near to impossible. There are going to be reminders everywhere.

You say goodbye to Laurel and the prep team at the station. It’s short since you’ll be seeing them a couple of months later on—so it seems that Finnick might be leaving immediately after the festivities in Four—Laurel gives you a look, and then hugs you for the first time. After that, it’s a blur of the prep team and you’re on the train. No goodbyes to the Capitol citizens, you’re glad you don’t have to.

You hold onto the wall as the train starts moving. Finnick does the same so he doesn’t fall over. You watch as Elysia stalks off, clearly mad at you still. You’re fine with that, you hate her anyway. Mags gives you and Finnick a smile, holds up one finger, and then leaves.

“One day.” Finnick says for you, and you sigh, going over to sit on the couch, “Wanna watch reruns?”

“Of what?” You ask, turning to look at him, he makes a face.

“You know.”

“Absolutely not.” You snap.

“Not even the Quarter Quells?” Finnick asks, and you think for a moment.

“Do they have when Mags was in the arena?”

Finnick perks up, and he starts digging through the cases of video. Of course it’s on a disc, and not an actual show. It’s from sixty years ago, or something. Mags was in the eleventh or something. Maybe not sixty years ago, but definitely fifty.

“Oh look!” Finnick pulls out a case with a big ‘ELEVEN’ written across the front. He puts it in and then sits down beside you.

Somehow, it’s better to watch someone else’s games rather than your own. It still has all the death and gore, it’s just not your experience. The rerun is clearly based around Mags, which means that this is the condensed version and biased to make Mags look good. You still get all the deaths but they’re not focused on as much.

You mostly tune out the movie, watching Mags was just a suggestion so you wouldn’t have to watch your own. Plus you weren’t really interested in the Quarter Quells because those are the worst games. They have the bad twists to them, which makes them desirable to the Capitol but terrifying to the districts.

You won’t have to deal with it. And even if you hadn’t been reaped for these games, in a few years you would have been out of the pool. You won’t have to do the Quarter Quell, but the kids to come might. Which also means that you’re going to have to mentor them. You and Finnick together, teaching the kids the best survival skill.

The Quell is only ten years away. It might seem like a lot, but the time flies. The more it gets closer, the more paranoid people are going to get of each other. Like during the twenty-fifth games when they had to vote up who they wanted to go. Neighbors turning on each other for the petty things. The victors dead now, must have drank themselves to death or something. As all the other victors do you ease the trauma after the games.

The second Quell was where double the amount of tributes go in. Forty-eight unfortunate individuals would be forced to go in. Two girls and two boys from each district. Haymitch from district twelve won that year, and you’re sure you’ll be meeting him soon. Courtesy of the goddamn victory tour you’ll be going on. Suddenly you’ll be a lot cozier with your fellow tributes.

It’s going to be hard to not home a grudge against the districts like one and two. There's going to be too many people to meet. Especially since the two games before this one, it was a brother and sister, both from district one. Cashmere and Gloss, which means they mentored Trink and Lennox, probably.

You wonder if they despise you, or if they find the entire thing interesting. If they’re going to snub or welcome you in with open arms. After all, you gave the boy the worst death of them all, and Trink saw it happen.

During the three hour recap of the games, you had the misfortune of watching it happen. You had just fallen off the tree, as Finnick was fighting Trink. Lennox had begun to turn a shade of red, and you were looking out of your mind. Just seeing yourself so pale, you could have been mistaken as a corpse.

Trink hadn’t seen the rope at all when it was first lowered. She had launched herself at Finnick, believing that Lennox could take care of the placebo body. Trink had a sword, swinging it at Finnick with little to no aim. Finnick was dodging them, but somewhere along the lines he fucked up the pattern, and she got the upper hand.

Hearing her district partner choking had caught her attention, your almost-dead body shouldn’t have been able to come back and get Lennox down. So, she originally had looked to where Lennox should have been, knelt over your body, but slowly looked up to find him over fifty feet in the air.

That’s when Finnick had killed her. She was too distracted. It was supposed to be a quick glance, find out what state Lennox is in so she could finish off Finnick and then go to help him. The amount of surprise that must have gone through her body, you can’t imagine.

She had the upper hand. She and Lennox had the possibility of winning, and you and Finnick came out of nowhere, with this whole attack plan and ruined it all. Although, hanging upside down was in no way part of the plan.

You hope that the others don’t hold a grudge. You hope that you’ll be able to make a circle of friends who understand what it’s like to be inside of the arena. That share the same problems as you and are willing to share their stories with due time. They can be proud of it, or they can be disappointed and guilty, it doesn’t matter to you.

People who you can introduce to Finnick and they accept him immediately and understand when he has to go. You just want people that understand, because you can already see he looks of pity you’re going to get from people in the district. You’re sure that if the looks from them get too much, you’ll end up locking yourself up inside your house.

Avoid it all and try to sleep it off. Call it a big ass dream and let the Capitol laugh at you for being another weak victor who can’t take the win. Let them think that one of the other districts should have won. Or maybe Finnick will be one big distraction and you’ll be able to disappear without a trace. The Capitol will be too invested in the fourteen year old prostitute to notice his girlfriend has completely dropped off the radar.

At least you’ll have people to take care of you in that case. Your brothers would probably let it happen and insist that no one infringe on your wishes. That it is a time to be recovering over everything you had just done. The memories won’t wash away quickly, no matter how hard they insist. Everything will have to be done on your own time.

At least no one will hate you for killing your district mate. To have killed Finnick and having to come back to his family and all of that would have been awful. Just think, had you gone after Thyme and Finnick after they betrayed you like that, you wouldn't have been able to see that you could have kept your district mate.

Hell, you might not have even lived to see that point. You would have killed Thyme and Finnick and then later Allio. Lennox would have found that out, killed you, and they might have gone on to win the games together. The only people to kill would have been the girl from six, Blaire and Mac. That’s on the assumption you hadn’t formed a friendship with Blaire.

Or maybe you did, and Blaire would later die from his own injuries from trying to save you. To have the same fate for yourself. Dying alone in the woods, not even awake to feel the pain. Could you imagine what Mags would have felt like? Watching you turn shades of color that she hasn’t seen on a person before. The cannon finally signaling that you’re dead, and she brings home two dead tributes again.

Not everyone that you send out of district four is capable of surviving. Somehow, it’s always the youngest tones that are picked. Although, Mags was sixteen when she went in. Again, that was fifty years ago, and of course there are teenagers that go in some of the time. But it’s not the same because they don’t win as much as the kids don’t win.

You and Finnick are miracles. There has been one other victor in your district, and you haven’t seen him at all. Let alone, heard about him. No one speaks his name, he’s either dead or a hermit in his house. No one visits him, no one goes in or out of the house. Soon, you’ll be living near him and you still won’t know if he’s alive.

Think of it this way. Mags is basically the first victor in your district. This means that during her fifty years of mentoring, she had only one person come out alive from that. Na they don't even know where he is right now. You and Finnick are fifteen and fourteen. You guys are barely qualifying for teenagers. You guys are young, barely have experience, but just enough to keep you alive.

Mags can’t speak, due to a stroke or something. She’s old, she doesn't know how the new games work, except for the one dead tribute that’s still nowhere to be seen. Her practices are out of tune, they’re so useless but she doesn’t know what to teach the new ones. She tries her best with pencil and paper, but there's really nothing she can do.

Then it’s the sixty-fifth hunger games. The first drawn is a girl that looks too young to win. But she takes a deep breath and gets on stage without any sort of commotion anyway. She bares her chest, arms behind her back, standing tall and proud and as if she can defeat anything in the world despite her young age.

Okay, and then comes the boy. He still looks young, maybe the same age as the girl. He’s tall, and kinda muscular, and he walks up to the stage like he owns it. The world will Ben to his feet if he wants it to. He gets up on the stage, right next to the girl and suddenly they’re standing the same.

When they get to the train, they wave goodbye in a way that says ‘I’ll be home soon’. Because that’s what the Capitol took it as. You heard the whispers in the audience during the recap, and they were all so amazed how you two were so confident. A district that hadn’t had a victor in years thinks that they’re going to win.

Get inside the train, you make an alliance with Finnick immediately. Mags saw that, she isn’t blin. She saw how you two bonded instantly and kept it tight. She heard how you two analyzed the opponents, the people you picked out to worry about. How you two jumped immediately to get info from her, so,etching that most kids probably don’t bother to do anymore because she can’t talk.

They might use her as a prop to get those sponsors. Rely on her to make those connections and figure out the rest for themselves as if she’s incompetent or something. She lost the ability to speak, not to coach. She figured out the new ways to get sponsors, clearly. She made you act like a damsel and Finnick, courageous.

She’s got two sparkling lovebirds later on. She sees that united front that you and Finnick were going for. When the both of you locked arms on the chariot ride to show that it’s the both of you or nothing. She no doubt heard about trialing, playing on those acts. How you managed to fool the entire nation and most of the tributes into your acts.

And then executed it perfectly inside of the arena. You did everything you could do in the most perfect ways in the circumstances you were in. You saved your ass in the cornucopia and gained trust from Trink when you killed the boy from eleven. You saved them from the bears, stopped Eytelle from suffering, and killed the boy from twelve. More trust points for you.

You proved loyal when Finnick and Thyme had left. You didn't run off with them. You stumbled when you killed Allio, but you met Blaire which saved you in the end. You and Finnick survived in that cave for weeks, and managed to win because of it. You were sick and dying, and they definitely thought that you were going to drop dead, but you lived.

The entire experience must have been nail biting for her. Watch as her two golden victors split up, making complete opposite decisions. You gain trust and Finnick kills people with Thyme. You nearly die, and Finnick has to stay in the cave alone. But in the end you two came together. The rules changed, and you two stuck together for it.

You and Finnick really were miracles when it came to winning the games. In the mess that you two created for yourselves, you should have stumbled and fallen. But you kept finding your footing, and it got you to win.

Mags is bringing home two alive tributes, rather than two dead. She can sleep just a little easier knowing she saved two. All the rest weren’t her fault, they just didn’t understand. They had probably succumbed to the idea that they were going to lose, so what would be the point of fighting?

With this win, it just means she has to pass on the job. You and Finnick know what you’re doing more. You’ll be training the next tributes, and making them as capable as you can so that they win. Instead of Mags taking on the losses, it’ll be you two. It’ll be your faults for not training them properly. Either parent and family will come to you to blame or they’ll know you did everything in your power.

“Dinner.” Elysia’s voice is dull at the door. You look up briefly to see her walking away, and then you see on the tv that Mags had just won. Finnick is asleep on the couch.

You shake him a little bit, it doesn’t take much for him to jolt awake. You explain to him it’s time to eat, and then the both of you go to the dining car. Only, there isn’t anyone there. People have clearly eaten, but you weren’t invited.

“Nice of them to eat without us.” Finnick mutters, but the both of you sit down, and start eating. The food keeps on coming until you finally call it. You’re still hungry, but you don’t want to eat anymore. You want to lay down and sleep all of this off. Like a bad dream.

Finnick follows you to your room, but it doesn’t matter. You don’t have a good view, you have this boring room. You take a shower and then change into a shirt and shorts. Finnick takes a shower too, and he joins you in the bed. By then, you’re half-asleep. Not worried about what’s to come because he’s next to you.

“I’m here.” You tell Finnick, pulling him into you, “Sleep easy.”

“I’m pretty sure the term is sweet dreams.” He murmurs.

“We both know that the dreams won’t be sweet.”

-- CHAPTER TWENTY --

You wake up on your own. The sun is streaming through the train windows. But it’s still moving, which means that you are much closer now. Maybe an hour and a half out. You need to get up and be ready for the cameras that await you.

Every time you turn to look at Finnick though, you don’t want to disturb the peace. He’s very clearly tired, the night was in no way easy. He didn’t wake you up or anything, but just by his expression, the dreams haven’t been pleasant.

How about this, you leave him here to sleep and you go to take a shower. Maybe it’ll wake him up on its own. If it doesn’t, then when you come out you’ll wake him up so he can also take a shower. It’s a simple plan and it’ll work.

You dig through the drawers for a simple dress or something for the cameras. Right in the front is a dress clearly from Laurel. She knew you’d want to look nice or the Capitol provided it because she’s upcoming.

You pull it out, it’s the same color of green of the outfit from the chariot ride. It’s paired with some white to make it pop a little more. You grab white flats that look all too similar to the ones you wore in the second interview.

The shower is quick, because there’s no reason to stay in there for too long. You leave your hair alone—as you did last night too—because it doesn’t look too terribly bad. Mags will correct you if she thinks otherwise at breakfast. If they’re there, that is, and didn’t eat without you like they did with lady nights dinner.

Once you have everything on, you do some twirling and walking around. As soon as everything feels fine, you dig through some drawers. You find the mother of all jewelry, mostly silver.

A necklace, you skip on earrings, and a few bracelets. No rings from the drawer because yours is inside of the room.

Speaking of which, you walk out of the bathroom to see Finnick sitting on the edge of the bed, rubbing his face. When you come out, he sits up a little bit, “Wow.”

“Shut up, take a shower. I think we’ll be there soon.” You push his head a little bit, and he laughs.

“I’ll do it in my own bathroom. Even though I love the scent of raspberry and vanilla.” He snickers and dodges your punch.

“You have your ring?” You ask as you slip your own on your ring finger.

Finnick leans over to the bed stand table nearest to him. He opens the drawer and pulls out the ring, “Safe and sound.”

“Good. I’ll see you at breakfast.” You tell him, he pulls you against him for a kiss. You dodge them a little bit, and just when he’s about to give up, you kiss him, “Alright now go take a shower, stinky.”

He laughs, you follow him out of the room but split when he heads off for his own. The walk to the dining cart is relatively quiet. When you get inside, you’re not that surprised to find that Elysia and Mags are eating.

If you’re going to have to deal with her for the rest of your life, it won’t be like this. You’re not going to allow her to basically walk all over you all because you said a few things to her. She’s a grown ass woman, seriously get over it.

“Let’s get one thing clear.” You begin, taking your seat at the table, “If you’re going to act like this every single fucking time we have to be near each other, quit.”

She looks up, “Excuse me?”

“You told us about dinner after you and her had already eaten.” You tell her, “You think you’d know some fucking manners. As well as not waking us up to eat.” She opens her mouth, “And spare me the bullshit about wanting us to sleep in.”

You take your seat at the table, “We’re going to wait for Finnick to get here to continue.”

It’s not that you’re power hungry, it’s a matter of respect. If there’s anything you don’t need right now, it’s her being rude to you. You need her to be understanding because suddenly you’re under a lot of stress. If she knows anything about what’s happening with Finnick, then she should know that you’re in no state to fuck around with.

It’s your fault that she’s acting like this though, even if she was being annoying when you had first woken up, you shouldn’t have snapped at her like that. So, you’ll take the high road--even though she should have done that in the first place.

“I’m sorry for getting mad at you in the corridor, but we need to put that behind us. We’re going to be around each other for god knows how long. We don’t need this,” you tell her, and she nods.

“I accept your apology. And I offer you my own.” she’s quiet for a moment as she messes with a napkin, “I’ve been cold on this trip, I can see it. I’m sorry, it’s not the job I would have gotten. District Four is beautiful, but I didn’t want to represent at all.”

“Unfortunately, we don’t get to make those choices.” you tell her, Finnick comes into the dining cart after that, wearing a black vest with a white undershirt. Black slacks, and shoes. His ring is on his finger, and he wears a similar watch to the one he wore during the interview.

His hair is how it is normally, a little curly from the shower, but it’ll find its way when it dries. He smiles at you, and then his eyes turn to Elysia, “Good morning.”

She nods at him, and he takes a seat near you. It’s mirrored the exact same way as it was when you were going to the Capitol. Finnick to your right, Mags to your left, Elysia in front of you directly. You drink your hot chocolate slowly, eating as much food as you can afford without feeling sick.

By the time you’re done eating, you only have ten minutes or so before you arrive at the train station. This is the last minute changes you make to your outfit. Where you help Finnick actually dry his hair and style it. Elysia comes down with a bit of simple makeup, highlighting your face for the camera. Some blush, and mascara, you think.

When you’re done, you’re placed in front of the door to the station. You watch as the walls come into view, and then it’s dark when you enter the tunnel. Finnick reaches for your hand, and you take it gratefully. Elysia and Mags position themselves behind you two, since the first thing that your district is going to want to see is you two. Not some person from the Capitol.

The train stops, you catch Finnick from stumbling. When everything settles, the door hisses, and then they slowly open.

The sunlight is in your eyes and you haven’t even stepped off the train. The sounds of your district cheering fills your ears, and you wince a little bit at the initial sound because they’re so many of them. The smell of the ocean is so very prominent, salty, representing your district as it should. You can feel Finnick squeeze your hand, and then you’re stepping off of the train.

When your eyes adjust, you’re met with everyone you’ve ever talked to and more. Front row is your brothers, standing tall, waving and cheering the loudest. Alyssum is on Reed’s shoulders, and Mox has his hand on her back to make sure she doesn’t fall. With their free hands, they wave excitedly, faces lighting up at the sight of you.

You nudge Finnick, and motion him to your family, and he smiles immediately. You watch as Reed does the ‘I have my eyes on you’ motion with his hand, but he’s laughing so it’s obviously a joke. Finnick’s hand is like steel in yours, you’re clearly grounding him. This is no place of fun, for you it is.

Elysia then comes around, and she leads you out so that you guys can get your places. However, you stop her before she gets too far and tell her to take Mags back in a car. You’re going to walk. If Finnick wants to join them, then he’s free to.

Finnick opts out, Elysia gets in a car with Mags, and you wave them off. As soon as you two have stepped off the platform, your brothers surround you. Reed passes Alyssum off to you, and she’s wrapping her arms around your neck already, squeezing tightly. Mumbling words about how much she missed you. While Mox is giving your boyfriend a talk.

“I would say no kissing but you guys have passed that point.” Mox gives you a pointed look and you roll your eyes. Finnick laughs, and then he sniffs, “Did I--?”

“No,” you tell Mox, passing Alyssum back to Reed, ignoring her cries of defiance as you wrap your arm around Finnick, “You’re okay, Finnick.”

People eventually air out, and it’s just you, your siblings, Finnick and Caspian. Caspian doesn’t say much, and you’re glad. You don’t want him teasing Finnick, or you for that matter. But something inside you tells you that you won’t be teased for a long time.

You bring Finnick to your old house, which is thankfully a good amount of distance away from where his place is. You ask Caspian to go home, telling him that you’ll talk later. For now, you need to help Finnick with whatever it is he needs.

The second you all are inside the house, Finnick breaks down on the couch. You spend the next hour comforting him, knowing that seeing his family not there to greet him at the station must have done a number. You know it would have for you.

“The peacekeepers…” Finnick trails off for a moment, trying to catch his breath, “They said that I’ll be leaving in two days for the Capitol.”

Your mouth falls open a little bit, “You don’t get to stay for the entire…?”

“The demand is so high--” he bursts into tears again and you’re wrapping your arms around him, squeezing tighter than you ever have.

When you look to Reed, you see he’s staring at you. And he also has some sort of face, like he’s suddenly realizing just how messed up everything is. That it’s not as simple as coming home and spending time with family. There’s more that goes into it.

“I’ll go with you.” you tell him.

“No!” Finnick yells, pulling away from you and grabbing your shoulders. His nose is red and runny, eyes bloodshot from crying for so long. They’re a little puffy too, “If you go then that means you’ll be there for a while. The men--they particularly like the girls. I talked to Pleurisy and they said that if you were included then that means you’d never see the end of it.”

“They’d slow down--”

“No! No, there would be more because there’s two of us. They’d want to see us together. I love you, so I can’t let you do this.” Finnick gasps, “You’re not going to the Capitol with me.”

Your shoulders slump, “You can’t just… stay?”

“They’ll find me. You can’t hide me and I can’t run. There’s peacekeepers outside your door waiting to make sure that I come out. The only way to get out of it…” he trails off, and you can pick it up, and he says quickly, “I’m not going to. But that would be the only way.”

Imagine your male victor who you’re going to turn into a prostitute, killing themselves to avoid it. What would be the option after that?

Your mouth falls open, “They’d go straight to me.”

And then his eyes widen too, and the both of you are staring at each other.

Suddenly you wish you had died in that arena with Finnick by your side.

LACUNA IS THE FIRST VERSION OF BELAMOUR

//MASTERLIST//

#ilguna #lacuna #finnick odair #lacuna chapter seventeen #lacuna chapter eighteen #lacuna chapter nineteen #lacuna chapter twenty

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anghraine · 5 years

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“the jedi and the sith lord” - chapter twenty

o_O

Last chapter:

If she’d know she could do that back on Tatooine—

Of course, she couldn’t do it back on Tatooine. Or now, for that matter.

Lucy scowled at the book. The thing she still didn’t understand was how you went around sacrificing your life force at all.

This chapter:

“I need to practice healing,” she said artlessly.

Behind his mask, he blinked. “What?”

“It’s not like there’s a lot of wildlife around here,” said Lucy. “I’ve tried to read the book and figure out the diagrams, but I don’t think I’ll be able to really understand unless I try to do it.”

chapters: chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, chapter four, chapter five, chapter six, chapter seven, chapter eight, chapter nine, chapter ten, chapter eleven, chapter twelve, chapter thirteen, chapter fourteen, chapter fifteen, chapter sixteen, chapter seventeen, chapter eighteen, chapter nineteen

Vader had just stepped out of his ventilation pod when he found LX-3, of all people, waiting for him. Already annoyed with his foggy visions while in the pod, he glowered at her through his lenses.

“What are you doing here?”

Doctor Izahay, who had assisted him through today’s time in the tank, glanced from droid to cyborg, plainly perplexed.

“I came to report on an unexpected occurrence,” Ellex said, and turned her head to stare at Izahay.

“Return to the medical bay, doctor,” said Vader.

“Yes, sir,” Izahay said, with another suspicious glance at Ellex. She gave her a wide berth as she exited the room. Izahay was efficient and loyal, but not one to hide her judgment of any given situation.

Vader returned his gaze to Ellex. “What is it?”

“It concerns Miss Skywalker,” said Ellex.

Some small part of Vader felt a flare of satisfaction at the name, as he did always did. His name, no matter what Palpatine might pretend, even if it had lost all meaning for him personally. Someone, somewhere, had wanted her to know whose daughter she was. Owen and Beru Lars, he was inclined to think, and rather regretted that they had—obliviously—stood in the way of the Empire.

A larger part of him was already alarmed.

“What about her?” he demanded.

Ellex said, “She requested that I harm her.”

“What?”

Anakin Skywalker had, despite his long-ago nickname, felt many moments of fear, dread, horror. But this nearly surpassed them all. Lucy had seemed relatively content for weeks, eager if impulsive in her training, no more than annoyed at the worst of times. That was the reason he’d lowered the guard on her. Was she trying to escape, after all, in a different way? Was it—

Recovering some fragment of his composure, Vader said, “In what way?”

“She said that it did not matter,” replied Ellex.

Vader considered that. He didn’t know whether to take it as a good sign or an even more terrible one. Only Lucy, he thought, could answer that question.

“What did you tell her?”

“That I preferred to keep my processor and circuits intact,” Ellex said. “I did not suppose that you would tolerate such an action, sir.”

“No,” said Vader tightly. “I would not have.”

He found that he could extract no further information out of her, so he dismissed her, and headed towards the training room. It was only a little before Lucy’s appointed arrival, and sure enough, she showed up shortly thereafter, her omnipresent book tucked under her arm. She seemed hurried but no worse.

“What’s on the schedule for today?” she asked.

For a moment, even that seemed unanswerable. He simply looked at her, trying to think of some way to introduce the subject. Nothing came to mind.

“LX-3 told me you asked her to hurt you,” he said.

At that, Lucy actually wrinkled her nose.

“I should have known she’d tell.”

“Yes,” said Vader. “You should have. What possessed you to request such a thing?”

“I need to practice healing,” she said artlessly.

Behind his mask, he blinked. “What?”

His dread dwindled; he couldn’t sense any deceit from her directly, or in the Force. She’d actually concocted this asinine plan.

“You thought you could sacrifice your life force to yourself?”

Surprise radiated through her. Then she looked sheepish.

“I suppose that doesn’t make a lot of sense.”

“No,” said Vader, “it does not.”

“I just didn’t think it through that far,” she admitted.

“Clearly.”

“I wasn’t going to have her really hurt me,” she said. “I just needed some scratches. Well, I thought I did. Now, I can’t see any way to try at all.”

She withdrew into a brooding silence, frowning at the floor as her mind jumped from thought to thought faster than he could follow it. For himself, Vader once again had no idea what to say. He had a vague idea that she should be disciplined for such idiocy—and for the alarm she’d given him—but he couldn’t see how. He didn’t want to alienate her just when he’d started making progress, and he could think of nothing but tightening the restrictions on her again. But what would that do? It was Ellex she’d gone to in the first place, and in any case, she was something like an adult.

“Show me what is confusing you,” he said at last.

Lucy brightened and pulled out the book, opening to an early page. On one side, he saw a diagram of a human or humanoid body with lines that might be veins tracing through it. On the other was a long block of text, which he scanned quickly. The lacuna must be adumbrated in concept prior to any supplementary action.

What? No wonder she’d wanted to try a direct effort, even if the method she’d attempted was incredibly foolish.

“Now you see the Jedi Order in practice,” said Vader.

“Oh?”

“Clarity was often not their strong suit,” he said.

She sighed—sometimes he wished he could still do that—and closed the book.

“I guess not.” Then she looked up at him. “So you can’t heal yourself with the Force? It has to be others?”

“As far as I understand,” said Vader. “At least, if you use the Light Side. I have … heard that some measure is possible with the Dark Side, but I don’t know the details.”

“Hm,” said Lucy. “Can you heal?”

“No,” he said.

If he had any affinity for the power that kept Palpatine upright, he’d have used it on himself long ago. And if something happened to Lucy, saving her would likewise be beyond his powers, however great they might be otherwise.

He asked, “Did you never considering going to the medical bay?”

“The med-bay?” For a moment, she seemed baffled. Then her eyes widened. “For practice, you mean?”

“You should have seen other patients when you were there,” he said. All the more after the battle, however quickly it had occurred.

“I was a little preoccupied,” said Lucy. “Anyway, I wouldn’t have thought that Doctor Izahay would let me.”

“Doctor Izahay,” Vader said, “will do whatever I tell her to do.”

“Right.” She dropped her eyes to the cover of the book. “You’ll tell her, then?”

“That depends on you,” he said.

To Lucy’s surprise, her—admittedly foolish—misstep of the morning seemed to pass without consequence. The dread Darth Vader, who was also the fierce hero Anakin Skywalker, just looked at her, then walked over to the table.

“Put down the book,” he said, and picked up a long wire before turning back to face Lucy. “Focus on this.”

She raised her brows. Moving a wire around didn’t seem particularly challenging, but he usually had some other end in mind, obscure to her as so much was. Even though they were psychically linked or whatnot, which seemed unfair. She listened to him in the Force, but felt nothing other than methodical purpose above the subterranean anger and pain. She didn’t think he was angry at her, though, just … always angry to some extent or another. Maybe because of the pain, or some Dark Side thing.

“I am waiting,” said Anakin, a familiar impatience touching his tone.

Dutifully, Lucy focused on the wire. She could feel it clearly in her mind, the length and narrow breadth and metallic sheen. Okay.

“Now,” he said, “bend it.”

She gave him a puzzled look. “Bend it? How?”

“You can move the whole, can you not?” he said. “Why not just half?”

But it was harder, like the precision work. Minutes ticked by, the wire vibrating in his grip as she tried to move it without moving the whole thing. The grip of his mind was even stronger than that of his hand, and certainly stronger than hers; the wire wasn’t going anywhere. And when she finally succeeded, only a generous person could call it success at all; the wire snapped right in half.

Lucy stared at the pieces.

“Uh,” she said.

“Interesting,” said Anakin. “I had not intended that yet.”

“Yet?”

“I did intend you to learn to crush and break items from a distance,” he said, which sounded a little horrifying. “If you were, for instance, trapped in a cell—”

“A cell?” she said. “How exactly is that supposed to happen?”

“—then bending and snapping metal bars would be useful,” he went on, unperturbed. “But control is important. Bend this half”—he floated one of the pieces back into the air—“without damaging it further.”

All in all, she spent an hour that day trying to figure out how to move various parts of things without moving the whole, bending and stretching and crumpling them or hitting switches and pulling levers. It was at all points difficult, but she could see the why more easily than most of what she did, even if she couldn’t see the opportunity to use most of it here. By the time it ended, she felt wrung dry, but she still beamed when he handed his lightsaber over.

It got a little easier over the next few days, though not by much. She thought it would always take more of an effort than most things. Her progress must have adequately satisfied her father, however, because on the fourth day, he took her to the medical bay.

Doctor Izahay glanced up as he entered, her expression shifting from preoccupied professionalism to alarm. Immediately, she hurried over, her gaze briefly flicking from Anakin to Lucy before returning to him.

“What has she done now?” she asked. “Or is it you, sir?”

“Nobody has done anything, doctor,” said Anakin. “Yet.”

Izahay frowned. “Then—”

“Miss Skywalker,” he said, slightly emphasizing the name (our name, Lucy thought), “is my apprentice.”

Izahay looked at her uncomprehendingly.

“She may, perhaps, have found a technique that can aid you,” he went on. “You are to give her full access to the patients.”

“Full access, my lord?” Izahay was already shaking her head. “But what if—is the technique validated by—”

“That is an order, doctor,” said Anakin.

Privately, Lucy insisted on thinking of him by his true name. But she acknowledged to herself that his tone sounded very much Vader in that moment.

Izahay swallowed. “Very well. But she will need to follow all hygiene procedures and limit interference to this … technique.”

“I’m right here,” Lucy said.

Izahay deigned to look at her again. “I see that. Do you understand?”

“Of course,” said Lucy. “I don’t want to harm anyone.”

“See that you don’t,” Izahay replied, then sent a slightly nervous glance in Anakin’s direction. “When should I expect these visits?”

“They will start tomorrow,” he told her, and that was that.

By the time Lucy arrived at the med-bay the next day, she was a little tired from the training with her father, but mostly eager to try to do something, and something on her own, at that. She ignored Izahay’s obvious reluctance, submitted to a change from Padmé’s clothes to white medical get-up, coiled her hair into a net and washed her hands with something that turned them red and stinging. Then Izahay gestured towards a line of patient beds.

“Take your pick,” she said.

Lucy scanned the beds; the patients were nearly all humans, and about half of them asleep, or at least unconscious. She didn’t really feel up to talking to anyone, with so much unspeakable, so she walked towards the furthest of the unconscious soldiers. She couldn’t deny that it seemed strange to be thinking about helping Imperial soldiers, but—well, she had to try to figure this out. And she’d rather not experiment on Rebels, even if it were possible.

She pulled a nearby stool over and studied one of the boards hanging on the wall, which listed each soldier’s injuries with scrupulous exactness. Okay, this one had only been shot in the shoulder—it looked just that bit too deep for bacta to reach.

Feeling a little silly, Lucy reached a hand out and held it above the man’s shoulder. But her theory that it might simply come out of her if the situation called for it was immediately proven false; nothing happened. Conscious of Izahay’s glower, she closed her eyes. How did you just go about giving up part of your life force?

It’d help if she could feel it. She tried to meditate, ignoring the sharp medical scents around her, straining to feel the energy behind her breaths and pumping blood. But she didn’t feel anything except the Force, and for once, that wasn’t what she wanted—not wholly, at least. She had to give something up. How, though?

After an hour of nothing, Izahay showed up to shoo her away.

“But—”

“Lord Vader gave me clear instructions,” said Izahay. “You are not to spend above an hour here, and at any sign of weakness your technique is to be immediately halted.”

Lucy nearly wrinkled her nose again. She didn’t see how much progress she’d make in an hour each day. But considering the whole death-if-you-do-it-wrong angle, she could understand why he’d be careful. She was probably lucky he’d allowed this much.

“All right,” Lucy said. “If he says so.”

“He does.” Izahay glanced down at the patient, someone called Lan Grenath. “What did you do?”

“Nothing,” said Lucy.

The next day yielded no better when she tried to push some part of her spirit into Grenath. The Force swirled about her, easy to grasp at the moment, but it didn’t help her do anything. After that, Lucy tried reading the book again, focusing on the sections on the life force itself rather than healing, which she’d previously been more interested in. As far as she could tell, she needed to withdraw into her body (?) to attune herself to the energies within her (???), which she could then manipulate. At least, she thought it meant that.

The following day, she didn’t even try to heal Grenath or any of the others, instead just folding her hands in her lap and trying to meditate deeply enough to banish everything beyond the limits of her own body. She even had to do her best to block her sense of her father, though she could still feel that he was out there, somewhere. And the day after that, Lucy managed to narrow the world down to her body, tuning out everything else and feeling something beat away within her, beyond the thump of her heart. Was that it?

The sensation quickly faded. But Lucy practiced it even after Izahay kicked her out, and between her training sessions with her father, determined to hang onto it. Yes, controlling objects from a distance and defending herself from blaster bolts were important, but this felt more important still, if she could only get it right.

On her fifth day in the med-bay, Lucy managed to retreat into herself in the way she’d practiced, this strange other reality enclosing her in a comfortable pulsing darkness. Half-dazed, she reached her hand out again, not quite touching Grenath, and strained to find some way of passing that energy on. She couldn’t push it; she’d tried. But this form of healing used the Light Side, didn’t it? The Light Side didn’t like being pushed.

Lucy hung onto the energy within her and reached for the Force, struggling to let both flow through her. For a moment, she just felt dizzy and confused, her mind tugging against itself—and in the next moment, it felt like something swung around, everything pouring through her body as if she were nothing but a vessel of the Force. As quickly as it had happened, the sensation stopped.

She looked down at his shoulder. The discolouration of his skin was gone. The tear left by the blaster was gone without so much as a mark left behind. Even an old scar several inches away was gone.

Lucy didn’t dare risk Izahay’s ire by raising her voice, so she strangled the impulse and instead pulled her hand back. Walking over to Tisix, she quietly asked the droid to evaluate the injury to Grenath’s shoulder.

Tisix grumbled but complied, stalking after her and then stopping at the man’s side and giving a low whirr.

“There is no injury,” Tisix announced. “Is that quite all?”

Lucy smiled at nothing in particular. “Yes. I think it is.”

She raced into the training room that day, heedless of anything but not tripping over her own boots. Inside, she found Anakin methodically chopping a pipe into segments for no apparent reason, the red lightsaber flashing.

“Father,” she said breathlessly. “I did it!”

He extinguished the lightsaber before turning to look at her. “You did what?”

“I healed someone! One of the soldiers in the bay!”

She felt his attention sharpen, narrowing in on her.

“I’m fine,” she told him. “A little tired, but that’s all.”

“Good,” said Anakin. She wasn’t exactly sure which statement he was responding to, but felt too ecstatic to bother trying to figure it out.

“I did it, though! There’s not even a scar now.”

“Very impressive,” he said.

Lucy grinned.

“All the more,” he said, “as you required no training in it.”

She thought about that. “It felt like I did, but I guess not. It didn’t come as naturally as some other things, though. I can’t wait to go back tomorrow—”

“Absolutely not,” said Anakin. “You’ll need to take several days to recover and replenish your life force.”

“But I don’t feel like—”

The mask seemed particularly relentless. She exhaled, but couldn’t feel too much disappointment in this moment. Instead, she smoothly transitioned from an explanation of how she’d finally managed to heal to her training of the day—which was mostly the same as the previous few days, except that Anakin had Ellex shoot her with two blasters at once, from varying directions. That way, she didn’t do nearly as well as usual at deflecting them, even with the Force flowing through her, though she was never completely stunned. As usual, however, she improved over the next several days, and Anakin let her return to the med-bay.

Now, Lucy tried a patient with a more severe injury, one that had perforated his lungs. She wouldn’t be able to get her hand as near the injury as before, though she didn’t know if that actually mattered or just helped her direct the energies. It took multiple tries, but on the fifth, he seemed to breathe more easily, his features smoothing over, and on the seventh, a machine beside the bed started beeping. Izahay came running over.

“What did you do?”

“You’ll see,” said Lucy.

Izahay scanned the readings, her brow furrowing. “That’s impossible!”

Lucy, perched on her stool, just swung her legs back and forth, smiling as Izahay turned to her.

“What did you do?”

“You’ll have to ask Lord Vader about that,” Lucy told her. She did feel a little light-headed this time, but no worse than that.

Izahay evidently did ask Anakin about what had happened, because he quietly congratulated Lucy again when she showed up for her formal training that day. She’d taken a nap and felt fine again, thankfully. She managed to deflect the blaster bolts from all directions and when he set the blue lightsaber on the table and told her to activate it without touching it, she managed it after several tries—it seemed to resist the tug of her mind somehow, but not indefinitely.

Anakin took the lightsaber and turned it over in his hands, seeming almost lost in thought.

“The time has come,” he said.

Lucy blinked up at him. “The time for what? Are you going to teach me something else?”

“Not at the moment,” said Anakin. He slung the lightsaber back on his belt. “I have seen the location of Jerjerrod’s and Varti’s private fleet. Meanwhile, Jerjerrod is preoccupied with the Emperor’s project. Varti has returned to Naboo.”

Something in him recoiled from the mention of that particular planet, though Lucy didn’t know why.

“Oh,” she said. “So it’s a good time to check things out?”

“Precisely,” he replied. “However, if I were to appear there in person, it would immediately raise alarms. I go nowhere unnoticed.”

“True,” said Lucy. “Well, you’ll have to send an agent.”

“Yes, I will,” he said slowly. “In a matter of this much importance, it would have to be an agent of extraordinary capabilities and dedication. One who could communicate their observations and actions without any possibility of detection, and respond to my thoughts and plans in an instant.”

She drew a sharp breath.

Back in the Rebellion, quite a few people had dismissed Lucy as a skilled soldier but not much else—good at flying and shooting, not thinking and plans. But she was by no means a stupid woman.

Lucy met his gaze as directly as she could.

“You’re talking about me,” she said.

#anghraine's fic #the jedi and the sith lord #rule 63 #genderbending #izahay #ellex #anakin skywalker #luke skywalker #lucy skywalker #star wars #long post #istg sixty percent of this fic is 'i promise this is going somewhere'

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