Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The Treaty of Treason video blasting across the panels comes to an end with an echo.

“As usual, ladies first,” Effie announced with an enthusiasm that was met by no one in the crowd. She pulled the paper from the glass bowl and leaned toward the microphone. “Anneliese Doyle.” A collective sigh escaped the crowd. Not just the usual relief from you or your loved one escaping another reaping, but the heavy, aching breath that follows when one of the youngest names is read. Effie didn’t need to scan the crowd to know she had just called the name of a twelve-year-old. 

The other children stepped back, clearing a path for Anneliese to emerge from the crowd. The girl carried a defiant look, jaw clenched; you could tell she was choosing to appear strong. But the tears streaming down her face like the spring of a river betrayed her act. 

Anneliese reached the stairs. Effie approached her and extended an inviting hand. The girl hesitated for a moment. Effie waved her fingers, a subtle hushing. Slowly, Anneliese stepped forward and offered her trembling hand to the woman who had just become her escort in return. The girl buried her nails on Effie's palm; a tiny act of vengeance against the hand that chose her name to die. Effie frowned from the pain, but didn't retract. Voices rose over the square’s silence, the snap of peacekeepers extending their batons cut through the air. 

“Anneliese!” a man shouted from afar, both in anger and desperation, as if scolding her for approaching the stage. The girl immediately let go of Effie's hand and turned around.

“Dad!” she screamed back in despair, in hope, and started running toward him.

The peacekeepers were already moving as more people poured in, shouting Anneliese’s name. They shared her eyes, her hair, her skin… Each of them had a piece of Anneliese. They were unmistakably her family. They were probably watching the reaping from one of the adjacent streets.

Effie’s feet moved before she could think, following Anneliese from a distance. The peacekeepers started to form a barricade, but her father managed to evade it, like a cannonball through a paper wall, and reached his daughter. He pulled her to his torso, and she immediately wrapped her arms and legs around him. He started to run with all his might away from that stage. 

Two children, a boy and a girl who seemed just a little younger than Anneliese, crawled through the peacekeepers’ formation and followed the run, shouting encouragement as if their voices could speed the man’s escape. Anneliese waved at them. They waved back, as if to a departing train. Then a dry, metallic sound cut the air, followed by three other gunshots. Effie preferred to believe the bullets were intended for the man, but three bloody holes blossomed in Anneliese's back.

Effie stopped. The two kids stopped. They seemed to realize what had happened before the father grasped it. Anneliese’s limbs hung limp, no longer holding him, but he still clutched her tightly. A semicircle of peacekeepers closed around him, their batons forcing him to the ground. He never let go of his daughter, even after his blood started to cover them both.

“Everybody on the ground!” The peacekeeper’s voice screamed, deep and robotic behind his helmet. The others, who couldn’t hear his muffled words, mimicked the action of the ones close to them by instinct.

Anneliese’s family did not kneel. Instead, they stood taller, fighting against the peacekeepers’ barricade and screaming Anneliese’s and her father’s names. Then another round of bullets cut the air, and the screams fell silent. The only people left standing in the square were the peacekeepers, Effie, and the two children, now only a few feet from her. One of the peacekeepers, certainly a reinforcement from another place, still busy with the task of beating Anneliese’s father’s skull to pieces, looked up and fixed his gaze on the kids.

“You deaf? Get on the ground!” he shouted, pointing the baton at them. The children stepped closer to each other and held hands. Still standing. But they did not meet his gaze; perhaps their courage for defiance had limits. Instead, they stared at what remained of Anneliese and her father. The peacekeeper chuckled and glanced at his comrades. “Can you believe this?” Then he turned back, tightened his grip on the baton, and advanced toward them.

“Effie?” Haymitch yelled from a distance, angrily. Where had he been while all this happened? Passed out drunk inside the Justice Building? Somewhere else? She knew he was one of the most recognizable faces in Twelve. The peacekeepers wouldn’t hurt him. So she didn’t turn to search for his voice. 

Instead, she moved toward the children, the peacekeeper only steps away from them. She broke into a run, or as close to it as she could manage in her towering heels. The peacekeeper raised his baton, not particularly worried where the blow would land, since he'd cover their entire bodies eventually. The children finally gave in, dropping their resistance and flinching, clutching each other in fear. Just as he was about to lower his arm, Effie reached them, half-standing, half-stumbling between the kids and their persecutor. She faced the peacekeeper with an open chest. Everything about her screamed Capitol. Surely that would protect her from being hit in public square–or so she hoped.

“Yes?” the peacekeeper asked, irritated, lowering the baton to his side. She didn’t know what to say; her mind hadn’t gotten to that part yet. Then suddenly she felt a strong grip, too strong, on her upper arm.

“Get your ass out of here,” Haymitch whispered near her ear, pulling her. She pulled her arm back and, as if trying to make a shield of flesh, she leaned her arms back to comfort the kids.

“This is no way to treat the future members of the reaping.” She glanced at Haymitch, trying to find backup for her indignation.

“Great idea,” another peacekeeper said, approaching. “If they want attention that badly, you should just throw them on the stage. Might as well kill two birds with one stone.”

“That’s not what I,” Effie tried to collect her thoughts. That was the way Drusilla did things. Probably many other escorts operated that way, so this practice wouldn't seem unfamiliar to these peacekeepers. She looked back at the scared kids, who looked at her with a glimpse of hope, now clinging to the hem of her dress.

“They’re too young to participate.” The two peacekeepers looked amused. That way to bend the rules was probably not unheard of in the districts either, maybe not a good enough motive. “And the odds should decide in their favor.” She continued, trying to sound confident, “You should show a little more respect for what the Games traditions mean and how the Treaty of Treason works, you uneducated idiots!” she said with authority. This made the peacekeepers back off a little. They wouldn’t want to cross the line with someone from the Capitol, but hatred for their wounded egos burned in their eyes.

“Besides,” Haymitch added, as if empathizing with the peacekeepers' annoyance, “she’s the Capitol’s representative. If she doesn’t want something done, it won’t be done.” And, as if remembering he was the drunk in this parade, he continued, “Now let’s get this show going.” He gripped her arm again, not as forcefully. He pulled her to one side while the peacekeepers pulled the kids to the other.

The kids held Effie’s hands and begged her not to let them go with the peacekeepers. Effie knew she couldn’t hold onto them in return, but she extended her arms and let her hands be gripped for as long as she could before Haymitch managed to pull her back.

“Listen,” he whispered. “I’ll go with them to make sure they don’t get beaten up. You carry on here.” He let go of her arm. 

She stared at him as he followed the peacekeepers dragging the protesting kids. She didn’t want to move. She knew that in whatever direction she looked, she would find blood and death. So she shielded her eyes with one hand, covering as much as possible, using the excuse that the sun was bothering her. Stumbling a little, she managed to get to the steps.

Since the Second Quarter Quell, they had increased the time lapse between the recording and the “live” screening of the reaping. So there was time to quickly clean the most obvious bloodstains and remove the lifeless bodies from the square. And for Effie to control her tears and rearrange her wig. The very final sentence of the Treaty video was replayed for the new take, probably to set the mood back, to erase the heavy air of the carnage of moments ago.

“Well, well, well. Don’t you love this part?” Her voice cracked despite her effort to remain collected. “Now, as usual, ladies first.”

–

The two children selected this year, Madison and Troy, were a mix of the strongest and the weakest traits.

The boy was an 18-year-old mine worker who had a lot of usable muscles but not a sign of charisma in his few spoken words, not a lot to work on for the interviews.

The girl had quick thinking. She quickly came to the conclusion they were doomed as soon as Haymitch asked her to pass the bottle of rum near her. But she had nothing more than skin over her fourteen-year-old underdeveloped bones.

"I'm not naive," Effie started, alone with Haymitch in the train's bar car. "I know she's not gonna make it, but maybe he can – no, I believe he can do it." Haymitch gently moved Effie out of his way to reach the minibar tray. She didn't care and just continued making her point. "All I'm asking is for you to give him a good look. He's got a fighter in him, I can see that. Maybe you could give him some advice." Haymitch grinned, opened his mouth, but Effie cut him off. "And not just the 'stay alive' bullshit this time, Haymitch!" He picked a bottle of whiskey and took his time analyzing every inch of the liquid trapped in it. She snapped the bottle from his hand and threw it at the opposite wall of the train. It shattered instantly. "I'm talking to you. Could you show some goddamn manners?" she said, really close to snapping.

"That was some real good whiskey you just wasted," he pointed out, nonchalantly. He reached to get another bottle. This was it. She tipped the whole tray of drinks over. All of the glass bottles were destroyed on the ground, alcohol spilling on the floor.

"You've had a bad day. I did too.” She tried to sound composed, failing miserably “But right now, no one's got it worse than those kids. Can't you at least have the decency to look at them properly and give them a chance at having a better outcome?" Effie was red through the pale makeup and had tears forming in her eyes, but, amusingly enough, it was the fact that she had just poured shattered glass and sticky alcohol onto her new shoes to make her point that made him change his mind.

"I'll talk to them," he said, still nonchalantly, moving to the cart's door. She exhaled heavily and tried to recompose herself before following him to the cart the kids were in.

He cleared his throat as he entered. The kids instinctively got up from their seats, as if a respectable teacher had just walked into their classroom. Haymitch smiled, amused. These kids certainly knew who he was; they had probably laughed at him during a public embarrassment or two. But here he was at least half of everything they had.

"I don't like people wasting my time, so I'm not gonna waste yours," Haymitch started dryly. "You probably, almost certainly, will be dead in a week."

"Haymitch!" That was not the pep talk Effie was expecting. He threw a glance at her like saying "You asked me to talk. This is me talking." He looked back at the kids and gestured at Madison, as if to prove his point.

"You don't have much hope unless the only challenge they put in this arena is who can stand hunger the longest." She didn't seem surprised by his prediction at all. "I'll give you some advice so maybe you don't suffer too much on your way out. But you'll spend most of your time with Effie here. She'll waste time dressing you up like a doll, teaching you manners, and feeding you her special menu of the best food the Capitol has to offer." The girl brightened up and moved a little closer to Effie, as if she were excited by the plans for her last week on Earth. Effie smiled at her, reassuringly.

"You," Haymitch continued, pointing at the boy now, "you’ve got some muscles. Maybe we can work on something. You probably won’t be the last one standing, but we can try to get you close to that, if you're interested."

"I'm very much interested, sir," Troy said, determined, like an athlete talking to a coach. Haymitch almost chuckled. He couldn't remember the last time he was called "sir" by someone from Twelve. Haymitch turned to Effie. "Is that enough pep talk for today?"

"That's the spirit, Troy!" Effie said enthusiastically. "Haymitch will begin the mentorship tomorrow." The man excused himself back to the bar car. "Now let's get you two settled. Follow me!" She led the children to their respective rooms on the train. She explained how the showers worked, instructed them where each important items were, and warned she'd be back in two hours to collect them for dinner.

–

Haymitch doesn't join them for the first dinner. He never does when he doesn't see potential in the tributes. Which is almost every year. This year puzzled Effie, though. Troy is as a winner as the mold from Twelve could get. Observant, tall, fairly well-fed… Of course, she'd have to work really hard on the training for his interview, but she would manage to bring some charm out of him. She's got a talent for that. If she and Haymitch joined forces, there could be more than just a pitiful number of sponsors this year; not only the ones who bet on losing horses for fun. Maybe twelve could bring another victor home. 

Effie tries not to think too much about Haymitch's motivations right now, even though she hates it when he leaves her alone at the table on the first night. It's more about comfort than necessity. Effie's extroverted enough to keep the conversation from dropping, and experienced enough not to let it go anywhere it hurts. At the first sign of melancholy, she hits the kids with the offer of dessert; that strategy never fails. 

Madison almost jumped on her chair when a young Avox brought the glass dome with a deliciously decorated Chocolate Coconut Cake to the table. When the Avox was about to raise the glass, Effie put her hand over hers, stopping the movement, and glanced at the kids sitting at opposite sides of the table.

“I don’t want you with a stomachache or nightmares because of a full belly. There’s still going to be breakfast with new desserts first thing in the morning. So when you’re satisfied, you’re satisfied, no need to push it. Deal?” 

“Swear!” Madison exclaimed, raising a hand to her heart to emphasize her point. 

“Troy?” Effie raised her eyebrows. He nodded firmly, trying to hide the excitement he himself was feeling.

“Then that’s a deal!” She backed her hand, and the Avox finally raised the glass cover, revealing the scent of the cake. For a moment, Effie feared Madison would combust in excitement. The Avox cut 3 huge pieces of the cake and distributed them among the people at the table.

“Thank you!” Madison said to the Avox. Then closed her eyes. “Dear Lord, you’re the best, amen.” She opened her eyes, took the piece of cake with her hands, and when she was about to bite down, Effie let a reprimandative squeak out. 

“Manners, young lady!” That was the first time the girl saw Effie slightly upset. So she immediately placed the cake down, took a random fork from the many that were disposed on her plate’s side, and started to devour the piece of cake in front of her. “Better, I guess…” but the girl did not look up; she was concentrated on her task. The Avox was about to silently leave when Effie raised a finger, stopping her in her tracks. “I just remembered I’m supposed to start a diet,” she said, handing the girl the plate with the fattening piece of cake. “You can get rid of this.” Madison finally looked up from her plate. With both her cheeks in a ball, the girl was about to protest when Effie glanced at her with pursed lips. Message received. The girl got back to her own cake. The Avox took the plate and exited the dining car. 

Effie turned her attention to Troy, who made no comments on the cake. He was eating it with a dessert fork, elbows off the table, as he should be. But his face lost a bit of its color, and a tear fell from his eyes every time he chewed. The cake couldn’t possibly be that bad. Madison barely stopped to breathe between bites. Effie got up from her seat at the head of the table and sat by his side, placing a comforting hand on his back. He takes another bite of the cake, tastes it for a while, and starts to sob, a torrent of tears.

“Do you think-” He cut himself with a loud sniff, trying to control his runny nose, and started to harshly clean the tears away with his free hand. “Do you think Haymitch could bring some of this cake to my mother on his way back? She’d like this so much.”

“Why don't you give it to her yourself?” Madison asks honestly, with her mouth full. Effie didn’t have it in her to reprimand the girl in that moment.

“That's a great idea!” Effie complemented, not so honestly, while rubbing his back reassuringly. 

“I guess it is…” Troy said, still unsure, taking the encouragement in. “I guess she’d prefer that much more,” he smiled, his eyes brightening up. He started to eat the cake again, enjoying it this time. Effie gave his back one last gentle rubbing before getting up and going back to her seat. Madison was back to her last little bites of chocolate and coconut.

Effie stared at Troy, eating so politely what is probably the best piece of dessert he’s ever had. Then she saw it. She realized why Haymitch wasn’t at the table. Troy was a strong, smart, hardworking person. He could manage to fight mutts, he’d follow Haymitch’s advice like the holy bible, and he’d find ingenious ways to stay alive. But at the end of the day, he would still be his mother’s boy. He didn’t have what it took to kill a person. And she knew you could count on one hand the number of tributes that came back from the arena without other kids’ blood on them. Troy would be one of the last ones standing. But he would not bring home a cake for his mother. Effie’s breath got trapped in her throat for a moment.

“What do you think about hot chocolate?” The kids looked at her as if she had just offered them diamonds.

–

Effie escorted the kids to their room and said good night. Maybe she should change this farewell, she said to herself while heading to her own room. No reaping night was a good night for the kids whose names were chosen among so many other splits of paper to board this train.

She got into her room and took off her heels, then her wig. Her clothes fell where she stood. Her hair slipped free of its pins. She sat on the dressing table and reached her record time only spending ten minutes removing the makeup from her face. The district twelve’s escorts looks at herself in the mirror. She was not letting the taunting tears fall. At least not there. Maybe in the shower, where her tears could be confused with the wet torrent, and she could pretend to herself that day did not affect her at all.

–

Effie let the warm water run through her hair, her face, her body, hoping it will wash away the dirt she feels inside. She’s lost in her thoughts when she suddenly feels someone’s touch. She gasps, startled.

“God, you scared me,” she says, sighing in relief when she realizes it’s Haymitch who’s begun hugging her from behind. He murmurs an apology, letting the water flow over himself too. After a moment his lips find her neck, then her shoulder, and, a little bellow, they reach the bruise his grip left during the ordeal in the square, he spends a long time caressing the purple marks.

"I’m sorry,” he whispers, tracing kisses back to her neck.

“That’s fine,” Effie says nonchalantly, closing her eyes to the sensation of his lips on her skin as she wraps her arms around his. “You’ve done worse.”

He chuckles. “Only when you ask me to.”

They both smile. Effie slowly lets her head fall back to rest on his shoulder. His embrace tightens, still gentle, and she relaxes more into his body. They stay like that for a while, letting the warm water rinse their skin, and begging that the night in each other’s arms could take that day away.

Chapter Text

“Happy belated birthday,” Effie whispered, eyes still closed, when she felt Haymitch’s gaze on her as she was waking up. 

She never congratulates him on his actual birthday. But she made a tradition of celebrating the day after. She’d give him a silly present in the morning, a pie and his favorite meals for lunch, and the best reward at night. That is, if he behaves properly during the day. Which he usually doesn't, but Effie rarely punishes him. Not on his belated birthday. Not when she loves to be with him as much as he loves to be with her.

Still in the haze of morning, she turned over and reached under the bed, resurfacing with a small box in her hands. Haymitch leaned in to kiss her and took the present gently from her. He opened it with care, trying not to tear the wrapping; he knew how much effort Effie put into these things.

His face lit up, a wide smile spreading across it. Inside the velvet box was a compass in three shades of gold. He couldn’t name them, but it didn’t matter; it was stunning. Especially with the morning sun catching on the metal, making the tiny diamond at the tip of the needle sparkle and cast light across the object. It looked like dawn itself had been sealed inside the glass.

“I love it,” Haymitch said honestly, voice hoarse from sleep, “thank you, Princess!” He leaned in for another kiss, longer and deeper this time. Her lips parted to welcome his tongue. He pulled her closer by her waist. She broke the kiss, already breathless, to be able to speak. 

“This way you won’t be so lost waking up in some random place after passing out drunk,” she said, trying not to sound too reproachful.

“Is that your way of saying you love me?” He teased, batting his eyelashes to appear exaggeratedly sweet. She rolled her eyes and kissed him again. 

The next time she broke the kiss, she pressed a hand to his chest, gently guiding him down as she moved over him on the mattress. Carefully, she took the box with the compass from his hand, set it on the nightstand, and returned her attention to his face. With her fingertips, she gently traced the curve of his nose, the line of his cheek, the shape of his lips. Then she leaned down and kissed him again, slower now, tender. It was his time to accept her tongue. There was no hurry in their touches, but there was certainly passion.

– 

Effie asked Haymitch to wake the kids up while she spoke to the head of the rail workers trying to repair the tracks, damaged earlier by an overloaded cargo train. Normally, he'd feel sorry for anyone stuck listening to Effie complain about her disrupted schedule. But she was in an especially good mood this morning, so he figured she'd be as polite as a kitten.

Haymitch knocked on the kids' doors and announced breakfast was ready. Troy was out one moment after the knock.

“This is not the military,” Haymitch said to the distraught kid in front of him. “You can tell me to wait. Did you even wash your face?” The boy shook his head. “Get out of here before Effie sees you.” The boy complied immediately and went back to his room, closing the door behind himself. “And brush your teeth!” He leaned on the corridor’s wall while waiting. After a few moments, he decided to knock on Madison’s door again. “Madison? You okay in there? If you need more time, it’s fine, just tell me.” No response. He knocked harder, “Madison?” Still nothing, he tried the knob, unlocked. “Madison, I’m coming in to check on you, okay?” He opened the door. The room was empty. His thoughts started to race. “Madison?” He pounded on the bathroom door. He turned the knob, one more door unlocked. The morning light entered from the bulletproof skylight. He looked around. No one. His stomach turned. Haymitch ran for the corridor. Troy was already waiting for him.

“Have you seen Madison?” Haymitch asked, and Troy furrowed his brows, an innocent “Why are you asking me?” stamped across his face. Haymitch stared at him for a heartbeat, then turned and sprinted toward the car’s passage to the next car.

–

Effie’s voice hit its highest tone when the head rail worker informed the repairs would take an extra hour and a half.

“You have got to be kidding me! There’s no way–” Effie was cut off by Haymitch grabbing her waist and guiding her away.

“Excuse us just a moment,” Haymitch said to the worker, who seemed grateful to see Effie shut up. She protested a bit but stopped when she saw his worried face. He took her to the trails behind the train.

“Madison ran away,” he whispered. Effie gasped loudly and immediately covered her mouth with both hands. After she made sure no one heard her, she lowered them.

“Tell me it’s a joke,” she whispered back. Not asking, demanding.

“I searched the whole train with Troy. She’s not there.” The world stopped spinning for a second. Then Effie started looking around nervously, scanning for anyone who might overhear. “Maybe she found a way out when the guards came down the train to wait for the workers to fix the tracks.”

“I’m dead.” Effie’s voice trembled as she pictured her future. Haymitch started to contradict her, but she held up a hand and shook her head. “No, no, you’re right,” she started pacing, “dead would be easy. Even fun. I’m much worse than that.” She stopped. Her eyes met his, and her heart dropped. “I don’t even want to imagine what she is.”

–

The dense treetops made it hard for light to penetrate. It felt like late afternoon, though outside the woods it was still before lunchtime.

Haymitch had decided he’d go after Madison while Effie bought them time. If anything happened, she was to say that Haymitch and Madison had escaped, and she and Troy had nothing to do with it. It probably wouldn’t make a difference, but they were dead anyway, might as well give it a shot.

It had been a long time since Haymitch set foot in any woods. Seventeen years, to be exact. Lately, the most dangerous thing he'd done was drown his liver in more alcohol than it could stand. So he felt justified in being pissed off at Madison for making him do this, and for the whole ‘dragging them all to a painful death sentence’ thing too.

The wind pushed its way through the tree trunks, sending the leaves on the ground dancing a little higher. Suddenly, a branch snapped behind Haymitch. He spun around, knife tight in his grip, only to find Troy, looking like a muscular sheep who’d lost his flock.

“I told you to stay there, goddamn it,” Haymitch huffed. Troy sighed in relief as Haymitch lowered the knife.

“I know, but Effie asked me to come along. Said to protect you if something shows up.” Not someone. If they ran into a person, they were probably already too far gone. “With you being old and all,” he added with a smirk. There it was, Haymitch thought. Away from the confinement of the train, Troy could laugh at him, not with malice, not wanting to hurt him, but as a boy from his district who’d seen him in various public embarrassments. That eased Haymitch a bit. He turned around to continue his search, and Troy followed along.

“She also said if someone catches us, she’ll testify that she gave us instructions to catch apples because they didn’t have any on the train, and none of it is our fault.” Haymitch chuckled. No one would believe her. Or maybe the fact that it was not apple season there would make the story more believable coming from Effie.

“Why did you decide to start searching from here?” Troy asked, not wanting the silence to last too long.

“If you were in a strange district, would you go for the city, with Peacekeepers; the tracks, with workers and Peacekeepers; or the woods, with probably fewer Peacekeepers than the options above?” Haymitch asked, looking around for any signs of Madison.

“I see your point,” Troy answered quickly, no need to think too much about the options. “So… I’m assuming she must really like you.” Haymitch gave him a puzzled glance. “Effie. She’s been putting up with your bullshit for almost as long as I’m alive, right?”

“She’s just doing her job,” Haymitch answered nonchalantly.

“Not even Madison believes that, and she’s just a kid.” The boy tried to contain a laugh, but failed. Haymitch shook his head, amused. Then Troy’s laugh began to fade.

“She warned me, you know?” Haymitch stopped and looked at him. “She said she’d run away and go back to Twelve.” His voice started trembling “I didn’t pay her any mind. How the hell would she get off that train? But the girl is slicker than I thought.” He exhaled deeply, a mix of sadness and pride for Madison. “I should’ve listened.”

Haymitch reached for the boy and put a hand on his shoulder.

“We’ll find her. And then you can be a good listener and prevent her from being too slick in the arena, okay?” The boy nodded, collecting himself and keeping his thoughts together. Haymitch gave his shoulder a last pat and resumed his search, Troy following his tracks.

–

The outgrowing roots of the old tree formed a nest. And Madison seemed like a wounded bird crawled up like a ball. The tears fell silently, but her erratic breath gave her location away.

With this sight, after around two hours of searching, Haymitch and Troy exchanged a relieved glance and, without having to be told to, Troy kneeled beside the girl and took her in his arms. Madison flinched, but as soon as she realized it was Troy, she let herself be carried away.

Haymitch led the way back. None of them said a word during the whole path, but tension walked with them. They had been away for probably three hours, at least one hour more than the head of the rail workers predicted, but the train was still waiting for them at the station, and there was no sign of a peacekeepers' search party in sight, which meant Effie had managed to buy them time.

They approached the station and Effie and two guards were waiting for them.

“Oh, here they are, I told you!” Effie said, exasperated, motioning between the three and the guards “that crab from yesterday was certainly spoiled. All of them suffered from motion sickness, poor things!” she widened her eyes at Haymitch, letting him know the story she made up and asking him to join her.

“Yeah, with the amount of vomit we made, all the toilet seats would be flooded” he tried to look sick. Such a good thing Madison was being carried “the girl here can't even hold herself with the amount of liquid she lost, probably dehydrated…” the guards exchanged a tired look.

“She can be treated inside. Let's move.” the head guard said firmly, and everybody was more than eager to follow his words.

Another great thing is that the girl had cried a whole lot, hadn’t drunk water since yesterday night, and has never been fed properly in her life, so the nurse that was part of the long list of staff in the train was not in suspicion of the crab story at all. Haymitch's drinking habits and missing dinner last night also corroborated it. Effie simply said she was on a diet, so she didn't eat the crab. Troy was a little harder to explain. But he started to say to the nurse how he had eaten so little because he was homesick. And his sincerity touched something on the nurse, who you'd assume were already shielded from these words. A light bulb illuminated over Haymitch and Effie's heads at the same time, they exchanged a glance. That's how they'd sell him to the sponsors and in the interview, a giant of iron, with a heart of gold. The nurse let them go after the three took an injection for food poisoning.

–

They sat at the table for their belated lunch.

Effie smiled with joy, proud of herself every time Haymitch made a sound of approval after biting into the delicious dishes. She hadn't cooked any of it, but choosing the menu with him in mind made it feel personal.

When the pie arrived, Haymitch gently squeezed Effie’s hand under the table. A small sign of excitement, and a quiet way of saying thank you.

Madison didn’t seem very excited about dessert this time. It was clearly good, you could tell from her face, but she didn’t want to show it. So she ate slowly, struggling to look bored.

Troy ate with the same politeness as the night before. But this time, he looked less defeated by homesickness, and seemed to enjoy the moment a bit more.

The lunch went mostly in silence. Effie also knew when a conversation shouldn't be pushed. When Madison was finished she threw her napkin on her plate and got up, pushing her chair back with a harsh scrape

“Madison dear,” Effie started “it's not polite to leave the table before everyone is finished” 

“Really?” Madison laughed faintly “well, you can shove your politeness up your–”

“Hey!” Haymitch interrupted the girl.

“If you'll excuse me,” Madison started, with bitter irony, trying to control her breath, “I'll go back to my cell now. Thank you for the impeccable meal, Effie dear; served after choosing me to die, and just before escorting me to my death.” Effie hadn't been at loss of words in many moments, but that was one of them.

“That's great vocabulary!” Effie tried to see a positive spin to it “We can work on it for your interview.”

“Fuck you” Madison said, disappointed, and left the dinner car. Effie let out a heavy breath.

Troy got up slowly and placed his napkin with care over his empty plate. 

“I'll go talk to her,” the boy said, excusing himself, following Madison to the next car, leaving Haymitch and Effie alone.

“How much time do you think she needs?” Effie's eyes fixed on the car's door, she wanted to go after them.

“Let's give them an hour.” Haymitch said, trying to pull the worry away from her.

“Fine” she sighed, defeated, and looked down “I'm sorry for ruining your lunch” Effie said apologetically.

“You kidding me?” Haymitch held Effie's chin and leaned in for a quick peck. “Pie and a show? The day only gets better” she gently pushed him away and rolled her eyes.

“You are impossible.” She said, trying to hold a smile.

“And you love it,” Haymitch said, going back to his pie.

She did. And it hurt her every day that she couldn't admit it out loud. In their world, love is a weapon you point at yourself. Loving usually means losing. And she couldn't bear to imagine herself losing him.

Chapter Text

Madison refused to talk to them after lunch. 

They arrived at the Capitol a bit later than expected because of the train ordeal, but the Capitol citizens were still there to greet Twelve's tributes. Madison innocently waved back to some kids that brightened up when they saw her. Effie instructed Troy to do the same. She escorted the kids to their preparation team. And Haymitch made himself scarce, probably on his mission to start getting drunk. 

When they finished with the prep team in the Remake Center, the kids seemed uncomfortable, as if they were naked without their body hair and district clothes. Effie did her best to put them at ease, talking about all the wonders of the Tributes Center and its food.

As usual, Magno arrived late to prepare them for the chariot parade. And, as always, he held the black plastic cover as if he was bringing in the next new invention. He slipped the zipper open to reveal the same exact outfit from the previous years. A cheap imitation of a cheap mining uniform. Magno brushed their faces with some black glittery powder and exhaled a proud sigh.

“My job here is done.” he declared, proudly, as he collected his things “See you at the Victory Tour." He said to none but Effie and left the room. This left her disconcerted. 

“Never mind him.” Effie says with a fake smile. She takes a tool box containing buttons, threads, fabric pieces, etc. and starts adjusting the fit that hangs loose on the girl's body, and tightly grips the boy's figure. “I know the fit is not… Could be more innovative, but a positive attitude can outshine any clothing.” She finishes giving the uniforms the final touches. Not perfect – only burning and reconstructing that costume could do the trick – but better “Smile, wave, blow kisses in the air... It may be the first time sponsors will give you a good look, let's make the first impression count.” She pats their shoulder gently and the kids nod.

The parade orchestra starts. Effie tries to find Haymitch in the grandstands. She knew he wouldn't miss it. Every year, a couple of Snow's guards escort him from afar to make sure he doesn't. She finds him two stands away from hers. Haymitch is surrounded, almost pressed, by the agitated ground. His hands shaking, his throat tightening, all the alcohol he poured inside threatening to get out. He makes eye contact with Effie and remembers to breathe. She wished she could hold his hand and tell him everything would be fine. But he didn't save a seat for her next to him. He never does. So all she can do is to look at him to show she's there and hope that would be enough. He nods at her, just to let her know he sees her there, and that it means a lot to him.

Haymitch told Effie about Louella after he woke her up with a scream. ‘Thank God he doesn't sleep with his knife when I'm in his bed’, was her first thought. Then she noticed the tears. 

That was not another terrifying nightmare of the arena, or being turned into an avox, or feeling like his guts were falling out. He only cried when he dreamed of his family – the ones he loved and lost. She sat up and held him until his breath steadied. 

He only tells her his secrets like that: in the late night, when he wakes up from a troubled dream. Never when he's drunk. And there’s no sign of regret in the morning, no attempt to take the words back. 

He lets her talk him through the desperation. She tries her best to lift some of the weight he carries with her words. And, for a moment, it works. She makes him feel less guilty, makes him believe none of the pain or death was his fault. After a few minutes, they lie down again. 

“I don't wanna talk about it again.” He always says. And, even though they are lying on the same bed, it's like he goes a mile away. 

“I'm here” she whispers. She learned that trying to bring him back in that moment is useless, but she still wants him to know.

–

When they got to the Tributes building, Madison forgot she was mad at Effie and allowed herself to be a kid for a moment. Fascinated by the glass elevator that transported them up so high and how everything inside their floor was so colorful and bright. Then she remembered this was not a field trip; she was there to be prepared to die. So she enclosed herself in her room.

A little after their arrival, Haymitch and Troy began the mentorship. The boy was completely concentrated on every word Haymitch let out – liquor-heavy as they might be. But the girl didn't want to see Effie even if she cooked a chocolate coconut cake herself. She refused to open the door to anyone, but she let Troy in eventually. He talked enough sense into her for her to appear at dinner, but not enough for her to say a word. 

This time, Madison waited for everyone to finish their meals before silently getting up, returning to her room.

“She got her reasons to be mad,” Troy said to Effie, who had followed the girl with her eyes until she was out of sight.

“I never said she didn't.” Effie affirmed with a sympathizing tone. “I just wished she could enjoy this week a little more…”

“I guess the attitude you got when facing death is the only thing of our own the Capitol still lets us have…” He said, smoothly getting up “Don't take that away from her.” He pleaded on the girl’s behalf. Effie nodded, sadness touching her features, and Troy retreated to his bedroom.

“You're awfully quiet.” Effie said to a vacant Haymitch.

“You're the one who talks my ear off, Princess. Don't try to change the dynamics now.” He said, putting his chair a little closer to hers.  

“It's just… She seemed so keen to have this nice week…” 

“She's dying, Effie.” Haymitch interrupted, holding her hand. “You're not new to this. These kids face death in different ways. Sometimes, in different ways on the same day.” There was honesty and compassion in his voice. "Just let her be. And be open if she changes her mind and wants you close.”

Effie nodded, disappointed. Dissatisfied with the situation, dissatisfied with herself. Haymitch leaned closer and embraced her. They stayed like this until the prep team knocked on the door for them to watch the Capitol program together.

Chapter Text

The days went down like sand through fingers. Haymitch kept making half-hearted attempts at mentoring Troy, who burned every piece of advice into his brain. The charisma rehearsals between him and Effie also went great. Madison still refused to talk to her unless it was to send her to hell though. The Training Center didn't present any novelties. Troy came back with a detailed memory report on the other tributes’ abilities, but nothing that increased his chances at winning.

The day of the interview came around. Effie refused to let Troy wear the suit, two sizes smaller than him, that Magno brought. Thank God her family doesn't throw anything away and her uncle was largely built. 

“Look at me, man!” Troy said to Effie, smoothly fixing his eyebrows in front of the body mirror. “I look like the mayor,” then he started to imitate the mayor's solemn speech tone “Ladies and gentlemen, with the power invested in me, I declare the end of the reaping in Twelve” and he started laughing.

He didn't pay any mind to how Effie didn't match his laugh. She just started to talk about the suit, trying to cover how worried she was at his words. Maybe the ones hearing through the bugs in the walls would overlook his comment.

“You're all set”, she slides her hands over the boy's shoulder one more time to set the suit free of any imaginary wrinkles. “I'll go knock on Madison's door one more time.” She declared, already sounding defeated.

“Good luck!” He wished, without taking his eyes off the mirror.

–

Effie knocked on Madison's door and started to walk off, already expecting the dismissive words. But, this time, Madison opened the door. Effie walked back, eyes hoping.

“Could you help me with my hair?” Madison asked, reluctantly. Her annoyed expression in contrast to the delicate pink flowery dress she was wearing.

“Of course, dear!” Effie exclaimed, maybe too eagerly, making Madison regret her ask.

The girl rolled her eyes and walked back into the room, leaving the door open for Effie to follow. 

Effie stepped in, excited, and guided Madison into the backless makeup chair before beginning to work on forming angelical curls on the girl's hair. Madison didn't say a word, didn't complain. And, when Effie finished the ‘masterpiece’, the girl complied and stood in front of the body mirror. She did look like an angel. Not one with a shield and sword, as she would prefer to be, but one that quietly and peacefully looks over you. Her mom would be glad about how clean and fed she was, her brother would make fun of how girly she looked.

“I'm not mad at you, you know” Madison looked at Effie through the mirror “I'm just mad at ‘you’” She gestured at her escort figure from head to toe. And, as oddly phrased as it was, Effie understood what the girl meant. 

“Thank you for letting me know” Effie squeezed the girl's shoulder gently. 

The girl stopped looking at the mirror and sat on a chair in the corner of the room. She'd be there until it was time for the Flickerman show. Effie knew her invitation had expired, so she turned back and quietly left the room. She glanced back once, Madison was already out of reach again.

–

The line of tributes got smaller and smaller until it was Madison's turn. 

“What if I make a fool of myself?” She asked Troy, who laughed in return.

“You kidding me? He should be worried you'll make a fool of him.” A metallic voice announced she would be next in 10 seconds. He squeezed her hand and whispered “You got this!”

She went up the stairs that led to the stage as Ceasar Flickerman announced her name. She walked a few steps to meet him halfway and he leaned down to kiss her hand. She forced herself to not flinch or take her hand back. Then he placed his hand on her upper back and gently guided her to face the crowd. Madison freezed. All the sound around her was muffled. Her chest started to rise and fall rapidly, as if she wasn't able to take enough air in anymore. She felt herself being slightly pulled, her feet working in autopilot, and was gently pushed into sitting on the fluffy chair. Ceasar said something. The crowd laughed. She didn't laugh in return, vaguely assuming the laughingstock was her. Then she remembered Haymitch and started to look for him in the crowd. She found him on the third front row, sipping his cup, probably filled with alcohol. Then the sound started to get back to normal. 

“Let's try an easier question, dear” Ceasar said, not necessarily mean, but definitely condescending. “Have you had a chance to try our desserts?”

“Yes.” She said simply. Trying to control her breath.

“Care to elaborate?” The crowd laughed. 

She was sure Effie was begging her to be a little bit more charismatic somewhere backstage. 

“I've tried a lot of desserts, my favorite was chocolate coconut cake” her voice was still trembling a bit.

“I love that too!” He said, making an appreciative sound, shared by the crowd “I often say that cake was sent from the heavens directly to us. And, speaking of heaven, those angel curls are exquisitely beautiful, just like you” he sounded honest “your stylist did an incredible job, didn't he?” the crowd agreed.

“My stylist didn't touch my hair” she correct vehemently, she didn't like false claims, “our escort, Effie, did it”

“An escort with this talent, let's give credit where credit is due.” Caesar got up to his feet “Let's call Effie Trinket, district Twelve's escort, on the stage.”

He certainly realized he wouldn't get anything interesting from her, so he moved to the next best thing. Madison looked at Haymitch and saw him frowning, pressing his fingers over his closed eyes.

For a glimpse, Madison thought Effie seemed uncomfortable when she entered the stage. What she found strange. Wouldn't it be a good moment in the spotlight? But the impression vanished quickly as Effie's presence filled the interview with a delighted tone. Madison felt relieved the attention didn't fall solely on her anymore. The interview was quick, Cesar thanked them, kissed their hands, the crowd started to applaud, and it was their cue to leave. 

“Wave to them” Effie whispered, as she waved gracefully herself. Madison mimicked the movement as they exited the stage. 

When they got to the backstage stair, Troy's name was announced. 

“Could you go with me too?” Troy grabbed Effie's hand.

“I'm sorry, dear” she squeezed his hand back “I can't, but we've rehearsed over and over, I trust you to do great. Don't forget to smile, and be honest, but not too honest.” 

“Good luck, you got this!” Madison squeezed his other hand. 

He thanked them and let go of their hands, heading to the stage. They heard the crowd applaud as they descended to the back stage.

They stopped before a monitor showcasing Troy's interview live. He seemed at ease on his chair. Leaning a bit towards Caesar, a sign of investment in the conversation. He and Cesar seemed in sync. Catching on each other's jokes, making the crowd laugh and sigh in delight.

“And what is your motivation to win the games?” Caesar asked, he extended the mic to Troy, but quickly pulled it back “besides staying alive, of course” The crowd laughed, and he extended the mic again. 

Troy made a pause, like making sure Caesar wouldn't take the mic back again, and the crowd giggled.

“Like Madison, my favorite dessert here became chocolate coconut cake. And I caught myself thinking how my mom would like to taste that. So, this is my motivation, what I think everyday I spend here and what I'll keep in mind in the arena: I'll go back home to give my mom a chance at having a taste of the glorious life Capitol so kindly offered me this week.” And the whole crowd reacted, some sighed, some started crying, but all of them started clapping, some of them on their feet.

“Wow.” Madison let out, staring at the monitor, surprised “Good job.” She said to Effie.

“Well, the major merit is his, that's his story after all, we just rehearsed to make it a little more impactful” Effie said, nonchalantly, eyes still fixed in the monitor as Flickerman shook Troy's hands and the crowd applauded more.

Then Madison realized that the glimpse of discomfort she saw in Effie earlier was real. The escort didn't seem to like the spotlight as much as the girl thought. And, for some reason unknown to herself, that made the girl take Effie's hand into her own. Effie finally took their eyes out of the monitor and smiled at her.

“Could we have chocolate coconut cake for dessert tonight?” The girl asked.

“Of course, dear!” Effie exclaimed, trying not to seem too eager, afraid that would scare Madison away.

“Did I hear it right or am I dreaming?” Troy said, jumping the last two steps. “Did you watch me? I was on fire there!”  

“Yes, you were, dear! I knew you could do it!” Effie said, proudly.

“I didn't,” Haymitch added, entering backstage from the staff passage. “Well played” he messed with Troy's hair, who pushed him away laughing.

–

The four of them sat at the table in the dining room, laughing, reciting Flickerman's questions. Haymitch didn't drink too much and gave a lot of attention to the kids. He was always there for the last dinner night.

Chapter Text

The countdown clock in the arena marked fifteen. 

Troy locked eyes with Madison, seven plates apart. He raised his eyebrows and she nodded. The plan was still on. 

The clock hit ten. 

Troy's palms were sweating. His heart was pounding harder than ever before. For a moment, he wished his mom wasn’t watching.

Then a masculine metallic voice boomed.

Five

Get a weapon.

Four 

Run from the bloodbath.

Three

Meet Madison at the south of the Cornucopia.

Two

Find a source of water.

One

Stay alive.

Troy launched into a sprint toward the Cornucopia. He wasn’t aiming for the deadly weapons. Just a backpack. Something useful. The worst weapons were thrown farther from the Cornucopia’s mouth. That’s where the smart ones went. That’s where he went.

He was just about to grab a black sack when another boy shoved him hard into the turquoise green ground. But Troy bounced back instantly, grabbed a yellow backpack, and bolted south. 

‘Yellow?’ He thought while running ‘Why not just paint a target on me in fluorescent ink?' 

He got into the deeply fake forest, with inebriating pink flowers, and turquoise green treetops, leaving behind the kids that killed others in their first minutes in the arena.

–

Troy couldn't risk calling out Madison's name. So he tried to keep his eyes wide open while looking for her. The dim light that managed to get through the dense treetops didn't help the mission. Then he felt something fall at his head and be smashed into slimy pieces. He looked up and Madison was on a tree branch, smiling. He let out a relieved sigh. She pointed at the yellow backpack and silently clapped.

“I wish we could eat those,” Madison whispered as she came down the tree. “but it looks too pretty to be any good” she determined as her feet hit the ground.

“What are you talking about?” He whispered back. 

She pointed at the smashed fruit she’d thrown at his head — and at a few others, already torn open. It was military green on the outside and blood red on the inside.

“We'll have to find something else.” Troy said, determined “Let's go” 

They headed further south. Haymitch said not to go too near any part that looked like the border of the arena, but that it would be good if they found something that could guide them besides the Cornucopia.

–

The sounds of the cannon rang in their ears.

Troy and Madison managed to find a small cave that seemed secure enough to spend the night. They smiled wide as they found inside the yellow backpack a sleeping bag, a flint, and a small pan. 

The sleeping bag was big enough for both of them to sleep in. Madison seemed a little uncomfortable with the idea, so Troy suggested they sleep with their backs to each other.

“Fine, but if you fart I swear to God I'll kill you myself” she said, in all seriousness. And Troy laughed out loud, and immediately covered his mouth, hoping no one heard him. 

They counted the cannons. Nine deaths. They didn't want to look at the images of the kids reflected in the sky. Maybe it was not the best strategy, but they've had enough in their minds for one day. 

Haymitch had said it was okay for both of them to sleep on the first night. If they found a good hiding spot, it would be a good strategy. The careers would not be so bloodthirsty after participating in the bloodbath, and the arena would still be new to manage to hunt anyone down. So Madison and Troy decided to sleep, back to back, in the cold, getting colder, night in the arena. Troy thought he'd have trouble sleeping, but before he registered it, his limbs relaxed and his breath steadied. 

–

In the first hours of the morning, after some discussion on which track to follow, they agreed to get on a humid path of terrain.

They'd been following that track for about half an hour when a parachute stopped them. They excitedly reached up their hands and Troy let Madison catch the silver sphere. She opened it and took out two blue and green plastic envelopes with the word ‘water’ written in fancy letters in them.

“We're screwed,” Troy said at the envelopes’ sight.

“What do you mean?” Madison said dismissing his words “He sent us water. It means rich people are sponsoring you!”

“It also means we're on the wrong track.” The boy said, mimicking her excited tone, “Haymitch would not send us water if we were close to finding it,” he said, seriously.

“Fuck.” 

They corrected their course, refusing to drink the water envelopes until it would be their last resource. They didn't know when they'd find a source of water, so they weren't willing to waste their only lifeline.

After three hours on the new track, they started hearing a water course. 

“Don't get all excited yet.” Troy said suppressing the girl's smile “Everything here is made to trick us.”

But it was, in fact, a reason to be all excited. That seemed like a genuine river. Not matching the fakeness of its surroundings.

Madison reached inside the bag, opened the silver sphere and took the envelopes. Handing one to Troy and keeping the other to herself.

“Cheers!” She exclaimed before ripping the tip of the envelope with her teeth.

–

They finally were able to drink the water they boiled some hours ago.

Troy and Madison went skinny dipping in the river to wash away the accumulated sweat on their bodies. He promised her not to look and they were fairly confident the Capitol wouldn't show minor nudity on television; at least they never saw it during the games they watched back home. Then they let what they assumed to be the noon sun dry them in its warmth. They put their clothes back on and drank the water they boiled as soon as they found the river.  

“Maybe there's a little less fake fruit out there” Madison suggested.

“Yeah, and maybe even a mouse, something easy to catch,” Troy added.

All the fruit they found were as fake as plastic and there were no rodents around. 

“Maybe Haymitch is saving the parachute for when we're really hungry” she said, trying to cheer him up 

“Yeah…” he said, his mind elsewhere “I just hope he's watching, you know, I hope he's not passed out drunk or anything” he tried to push the thought away “Effie wouldn't let him anyway” Madison nodded.

“Remember when he passed out in front of the school?” she said with a mystified grin.

“I'm sure he thought he was going in the right direction to the hob” he giggled 

“Poor thing,” she shook her head, in fake sympathy, trying to imitate Effie's accent, “he must still have paper glued to his body, even two years later”

“I don't think his body hair recovered–”

Madison gasped. Troy turned to her, was she so shocked about him mentioning body hair? Then Madison's chilling scream echoed between the trees. He tried to catch her as she started to fall, but his leg wasn't well positioned and they both hit the ground. 

Her leg was a mess of blood, skin and a ruptured bone sticking out. A rusty bear trap involving her knee.

“Haymitch!” Troy yelled at the trees, hoping a camera would catch him.

“Don't be stupid!” Madison screamed, angry. Her tone was mostly the pain talking, but she meant it. She tried to control her breath. “Don't be stupid.” She asked, more gently.

He turned to her again, without knowing what to do. He tried to open the trap, but it didn't move an inch. He tried to stop the bleeding, but she screamed in pain. He tried to take her in her arms so he could carry her somewhere, but she sobbed and growled. Hurt was all she felt, all she cried, all she said. He hugged her. She tucked her fingers into his back as if it would make him understand. 

Troy remembered his dog Mountain. It was an unrecognizable mix of breeds. But one thing Troy and his friends knew was that Mountain was fast. All of the boys in the neighborhood tried to race it, but the dog beat every single one of them. Mountain would come back home with his tongue out, almost like it was about to pass out, and his mom would be mad. ‘The more energy the dog spends, the more food it'll want!’, and they were counting their blessings themselves. But she never was cross at Troy for too long. And she never denied food to Mountain. 

In the middle of the night, Troy was awoken by a child's cry outside. He was the man of the house, so he went to check what was happening before going to his mother's room to wake her up. He opened the door and examined his yard and the street below the full-bright moon. Mountain was the only one there, no child in sight. But the cry was still going. Troy was about to question if he was really awake when he realized the cry actually came from his dog. He approached it, desperate. The dog's leg was bloody and Troy could tell it was broken by the shattered pieces of white pointing up. Mountain never ran around the house. There were definitely no cars going around there. Someone had done it on purpose. 

Troy extended his hand to touch the wound, and when his fingers met its leg, the dog let out a strangled cry and bit his arm. Troy screamed in pain, and, for a moment, they locked their teary eyes. Two creatures in pain. Mountain let go of his arm and Troy didn't try to touch its leg again. Instead, Troy hugged his dog, which rested its head on the boy's chest. Troy loved Mountain. But he knew they couldn't afford pain medicine. Nor could they pay Mr. Addams, the man who treated the Mayor's animals. Even with all the blood it was losing, the dog seemed strong, it'd fight until the end. Troy knew Mountain would have a slow, painful death. He couldn't let it happen to his friend. So he positioned his arm around the dog, pressed his hands to either side of its face, and, with all his force, turned its head in a quick movement.

Madison's body fell lifeless after the bones in her neck were broken. The cannon cut the air. Troy held her until her body was cold. Silent, warm tears running down his cheeks. Troy couldn't tell how many hours had passed, but the unmistakable sound of a parachute took him out of his trance. He let Madison's body down onto the ground gently and walked to where the metallic sphere landed. He opened it and the sight of the chocolate coconut piece of cake made his stomach turn. But he knew what Haymitch was trying to tell him. It was already time to move on – when even in Twelve he'd be allowed to mourn her for a day or two before having to head back to the dark of the mines. 

He gave one last look at Madison, the other unluckiest person in district Twelve that year, and started walking in the opposite direction. Troy never looked back. Not even when he saw the aircraft hovering silently in the sky, knowing they would raise her body from the ground. He didn't want his last image of Madison to be the Capitol holding her.

–

Troy didn’t care to find shelter that night. He just sat by the river as the Sun fell away from the arena.

Troy wondered if Effie and Haymitch were mad at him. He couldn't even let himself think of his mother, how disgusted she would be at him.

The anthem began to play. He covered his ears and closed his eyes. He thought of his mom, singing him to sleep during stormy nights. His back rested against a cold, damp stone. Tonight, Madison’s warmth wouldn’t make him company.

“Up over the clouds there's no thunders or sorrow,” he started to sing, like his mom used to. “Here is the peace you'll find in tomorrow” He didn't care if any of the tributes heard him. “But for tonight you'll have on the rain” Some part of him hoped they would hear and hunt him down “to whisper good dreams and wash out the pain” 

The anthem and the brightness in the sky came to an end. The moon was not as bright as before. No other tributes appeared to Troy besides Madison, whose angelic curls and pink flowery dress clashed with the dark of the night.

–

Troy didn't close his eyes, afraid of the nightmares waiting for him.

When the first lights of dawn rose over the arena, Troy started to weave a fish trap with thin fallen sticks – like he learned in the Training Center. He moved down the river, placed the trap and waited patiently for the signs of his next meal. But, unfortunately, he wasn't the only one wanting to eat that morning.

He noticed the animal – a beast he could only describe as a bear bred with Satan's son – drinking water in the river a few meters down from him. He got up slowly, backing away, trying to decide where to go. The bear could probably swim, definitely could run, certainly could climb, and Troy wouldn't be surprised if the monstrosity could fly. 

When Troy decided to run to the forest it was already too late. The bear snapped his head as the boy stepped on a dry branch. Troy barely made it to the first trees near the river when he started to feel the bear's hungry breath. 

“Twelve!” A male voice called. 

Troy turned, the bear turned, and a spear flew inches from the boy's eyes before sticking a tree near him. Troy knew only he only had about one second of the bear's distraction to use. So he pulled the spear off the tree and carved it into the bear's eyes with all the force he had. The bear growled, trying to claw Troy aimlessly before falling limp. His breathing was ragged and uneven. He approached the bear again. It spasmed, scaring the boy. But he tried again and managed to remove the spear from its skull.

“Nice one, Twelve!” Said the same voice from before. Troy turned and pointed the bloody spear at Conrad, the male tribute from district Two. “Wow, there's no need for that, I just wanted to introduce myself” he used the same charming voice in his interview with Flickerman.

“I know who you are,” Troy said dryly, “where are your savage friends?” He remembered Effie saying that word, but it probably sounded nicer in her accent.

“I'm not a fan of the whole ‘packing up to kill the weakest’ thing. It seems kinda unfair. I prefer it one to one.” he grinned, Troy tightened his grip on the spear, which made Conrad chuckle. “Listen, if  I wanted you dead, I would've just let the bear eat you” Troy looked at the bear. He wouldn't have stood a chance. “Nine is a pretty good score. I would like to have you as my ally.” Conrad extended his hand, asking for a deal.

Troy sized him up. Conrad was blonde, eighteen, taller, and packed with twice the muscle and, who knows, maybe three times the charm. An alliance with someone as strong and sponsored as a Two was unheard of for a tribute from Twelve. And probably frowned upon too. But who was he kidding? He would not kill hin. He let down the spear and shook Conrad's hand.

“I don't trust you but–”

“I wouldn't either.” Conrad sighed, pretending to be sad.

“I'm already regretting this” Troy rolled his eyes, let go of Conrad's hand's, and started walking to his previous spot on the river. Still holding the spear close.

“You're welcome for me saving your life, by the way,” Conrad said, following him.

Troy recovered his weaved trap from the river and opened to reveal four fish inside. He handed the trap to Conrad. That was his way to say thank you to his former enemy, recent ally.

–

Troy and Conrad sat around the small fire they’d built to cook the fish Troy had trapped. They’d agreed that as long as there was daylight, a fire wouldn’t be too dangerous.

The fish was tasteless, they were probably not natural. Troy tried not to think about it, but he couldn't help remembering that Madison's last meal was the delicious food of the Capitol. It made him feel glad and guilty at the same time.

“So,” Conrad started casually, “what happened to your little ally?”

“Don’t talk about her.” Troy’s tone was instant and sharp.

“I was just wondering. It's not a good sight for sponsors if you–”

“I said don’t talk about her!” Troy snapped, his voice suddenly loud and low and final.

“Okay, okay, I'm sorry” Conrad raised both hands slightly in surrender. “I wasn’t trying to be a dick.” Silence hovered for a few moments, broken only by the subtle crackle of the fire. “Let’s talk about something else then,” Conrad offered. He gave it a beat. “So, Twelve, huh? Is it true you eat rats?”

“If we're desperate enough.”

“Sick!” Conrad said, approvingly. “I respect that. Gotta do what you gotta do.” Troy side-eyed him. “Do you go to school, like, do you really learn the ABCs and all?” 

“We're not dumb, we're not animals, and if you don't have anything smart to ask just keep your mouth shut” 

Troy's answer was not what Conrad expected, but it made him grin. He looked at Troy with new eyes. 

“Okay, fair. You’ve got claws, Twelve.”

Conrad nudged his boot forward, just lightly brushing Troy’s. Troy looked away, but he didn’t pull his foot back.

–

Before the night fell they moved to find shelter in a cave near the river. It was humid and cold. But it was also well hidden. At this point in the games there is more bloodthirst.

“I'll take the first watch,” Conrad announced. And Troy laughed in response. “Or we could both be up.” Conrad shrugged “But it'd be a waste of energy. I told you killing allies doesn't look good to sponsors.”

Troy was about to protest. But he hadn't closed his eyes the night before. And what a better way to get killed than in your sleep? He accepted Conrad's offer and tucked himself in the sleeping bag.

He had a good dream. His mom was there, and Madison, Effie, and Haymitch too. Mountain was running. His friends got a day off from the mine to spend with him. Then he was pulled up from sleep by Conrad shaking him.

“God, you're a heavy sleeper” Conrad said, when he finally managed to wake Troy up.

The first lights of dawn were waking the forest, Troy realized Conrad had let him have a full night of sleep. 

“Why did you let me sleep so much?” He asked, defensive.

“You're welcome.” Conrad said, nonchalantly, laying down on the cave's floor to have his turn in sleeping.

Troy got off the sleeping bag and handed it over. Conrad accepted it with a grin a little too wide. Troy realized he had slept through the anthem, and, in fact, hadn't been counting his odds the days before.

“How many of us?”

“Seven” Conrad answered, already making himself comfortable in the sleeping bag “Four are careers.”

“That includes you?” Troy asked sarcastically.

“I told you I'm not like that.” Conrad didn't seem offended, he was focused on a mission of getting comfortable.

It didn't take more than three minutes for Conrad's breath to get heavy. Troy still had the sphere. There could be one less career in the arena. He didn't give a damn about what the sponsors would think, if he still had any. But he cared about what his mom thought of him. 

Troy rested his back on the cave wall, listening to Conrad diving in his sleep.

–

The piercing sound of a thunder scared Conrad awake. The sun was up high in the sky while a merciless storm hit the arena, forming countless rainbows. People in the Capitol would be losing their minds with something so beautiful. 

“Anything?” Conrad asked, sitting up.

“No,” Troy said, his eyes on the storm. He wondered if it was raining in Twelve too. And if his mom had forgotten anything on the clothesline.

“Good.” Conrad yawned “what do you think it's for?” He stretched and gestured at the water falling like a curtain on the cave's entrance.

“Maybe to give them a pretty view.” ‘Or to wash the blood encrusted on the arena's floor’, he thought. As much as he didn't care about the sponsors, he cared about gamemakers. Troy wasn't willing to get on their bad side for an useless defiance.

–

The storm stopped like it started: suddenly. 

“Today you could give me a fishing class,” Conrad suggested as they walked through the damp forest “And I could teach you some knife tricks in return.”

“Sounds good, but I didn't get a knife.”

“That's okay, I've got two.” He said, casually.

Troy felt dumb. He’d been holding that spear like it was the one thing keeping Conrad from killing him. But Conrad had probably had a dozen chances to do it with his bare hands if he really wanted to.

“Cool” Troy said simply, trying to cover his embarrassment.

They got to the river and Troy taught Conrad to use leaves and sticks to make fishing traps. Once in a while their fingers would get intertwined like the leaves and they looked at each other for a beat too long.”

“That's it.” Troy said, distancing himself from Conrad “now you just put it in a good spot” he demonstrated it by putting his own trap into the river. Conrad mimicked his action.

“Nice, now I think we can leave this here while I teach you some of the knives moves” 

Troy nodded and followed Conrad to the same tree he stuck the spear in what felt like a week ago. There was no sign of the bear anymore. Conrad took out both knives from the hidden sheath under the bottom of his shirt and held one out to Troy, handle first.

“Don't stab me with it,” Conrad said with a half-smile.

“Don’t worry, I'm very preoccupied with my sponsors,” Troy replied, taking it carefully. 

“Okay.” Conrad purposefully dismissed the sarcasm “First rule: don’t try to look cool. That’s how people lose fingers.” He stepped behind Troy, close enough for him to feel his breath on the back of his neck. “Grip it like this,” he said, wrapping his fingers gently around Troy’s hand to adjust his stance. “Relax your wrist a bit.”

Troy nodded, trying to focus on the weight of the knife, not on Conrad’s hand on his. They practiced a few simple movements, slow and controlled. Conrad was surprisingly patient, explaining each move like someone who’d taught this before. Or someone who liked having an excuse to stay close.

They spent hours practicing throwing the knives at a target Conrad carved on a tree trunk. They connected like childhood friends who didn't need a lot of words to feel the other was thinking. They laughed especially hard everytime Troy had to run to collect a knife he threw too far away from the target, so far off that even the tree didn’t feel threatened.”

“You have to relax and breathe before throwing it.” Conrad instructed.

Troy rolled his eyes. It was already the fifth time Conrad said that. But, in his defense, Troy hadn’t obeyed any of them.

This time he listened. He positioned himself as Conrad instructed and let out a breath. He threw the knife at the tree and it stuck. Not even close to the center, but it stuck – and in the exact tree he aimed for. Conrad let out a delighted laugh. And like a boy with his friend, he jumped on Troy, cheering his achievement. Both of them embraced each other, like it was the end of a competition and Troy would take the trophy home.

Their laughs and cheers started to die. They realized they were too close. Arms around each other. They locked eyes. This silence between them wasn’t as comfortable as before. It was charged now. Like the air before a second storm.

“If things were different–” Conrad started.

“They're not,” Troy cut him and moved away from the embrace.

“Alright,” he said, clearing his throat, forcing back a grin. “I think we're all done here” Troy nodded in agreement “We should go check the traps” 

Troy went ahead, while Conrad retrieved the knives from the tree. He only looked back when he heard a grunt. Conrad wasn’t alone. The tribute from One had him pinned, a knife inches from his eye. Troy sprinted toward them and threw his full weight into the career, knocking him off Conrad.

The boy from One bounced back to his feet with frightening speed, swinging wildly at Troy.

Troy fought back. The knife slipped from the career’s grip and landed a few feet away. The two boys crashed to the ground, wrestling violently. The tribute managed to break free and was halfway to his feet when Troy kicked him hard in the face. The career began to fall backward. But he was prevented from hitting the ground by the spear going through his chest. Conrad pulled back the weapon and district One's tribute fell back on a pool of his own blood.

The cannon announced the fight was over. Troy turned to his side and vomited. 

“We're six now” Conrad said “that's when shit starts to happen” his tone was serious. “We should get going.”

Each of the traps had collected two fish. They involved the fishes in leaves and started their journey going downwards the river.

–

A cannon ripped the silence. There were only five tributes still standing.

“Maybe we should part ways” Troy suggested, “so, you know, we don't have to fight each other” 

“And you wouldn't want that,” Conrad said in fake arrogance.

“You wouldn't want that,” Troy answered, pretending to be offended.

“I liked having you as an ally, Troy” there was nothing fake in his words this time.

“Likewise” Troy extended his hand.

Conrad looked at Troy's hands. A sign of good sportsmanship. Instead of retributing the gesture, Conrad raised his hands, grabbed Troy's face, and pulled him closer, pressing his lips against his. The Capitol’s team would probably cut this clip on the reruns, Troy thought, parting up the kiss.

“Maybe in another life” Troy whispered.

“Maybe in another life” Conrad whispered back, leaning his forehead to rest on Troy's, holding the back of his neck.

They stayed like this, frozen in time for a moment. The boys only moved when Conrad's knife went through Troy's stomach. One, two, seven times until the cannon announced Troy was gone.

Chapter Text

Effie stood alone by the bar in the party structure built in Snow's mansion. 

“Hey, girlfriend!” Gasper exclaimed, approaching Effie. He was wearing a vibrant pink suit with feathers. ‘That’s definitely not his colour' she thought while he kissed both her cheeks. “Don’t be so beaten down, one day they'll recognize your value and will bump you up from that dumpster”

That startled Effie. If Gasper Altburn, the most obtuse man in town, could tell she was upset, it must have been written across her face in glittery letters.

“Oh, well, what can I say? I'm honored to be part of something so grand.” She answered sweetly. Then Effie leaned in, her smile poised. “It's just… the taste of victory has never done anyone harm” Gasper giggled, and patted her shoulder. 

“I'll talk around about your promotion” Gasper whispered, “That interview with Cesar did you a lot of favors.” He clapped his hands and excused himself with a flourish.

Effie pretended even harder not to be affected by the outcome of the Games. She talked to anyone who was anyone at the party. Smiled. Ate. Waved. Chatted. And then it was time to congratulate this year's victor.

Conrad entered the center of the festivities, led by his escort. He shook hands, patted shoulders, kissed cheeks... He was having the time of his life. The unfathomable grin on his face pissed her off. The other tributes had never stood a chance against him. Effie hated Conrad for killing Troy. She hated him especially for killing Troy the way he did. And she hated herself for hating an eighteen-year-old kid.

“Congratulations, Conrad!” Effie said brightly when it was her turn. “Victory does look very good on you.”

“Thank you very much.” And for a brief second, Effie thought she saw a flicker of embarrassment cross his face. “Would you give me the honor of a dance?” He extended his hand.

“Oh, it will be my pleasure!” she said, lying with grace, and took his hand.

They moved to the dance floor and swayed in silence. Every now and then Effie stepped on his foot in alleged clumsiness. Conrad was a gentleman about it. Which only infuriated her more.

“He was awesome,” Conrad whispered, quiet sorrow in his voice.

And, in that moment, Effie realized Conrad was just a kid too. Maybe, in a better life, he wouldn't have to kill to stay alive. Maybe, in a more hopeful life, he and Troy would share another kiss. Maybe, in another life, Conrad would’ve been the person Troy kissed until they grew old.

“He was.” She replied. Tears burned at the corners of her eyes, but she wouldn’t let them fall.

She embraced Conrad closer as they danced the rest of the song. The morbid festivity flashing its lights into the night.

Chapter Text

At the stage built for the 68th reaping in front of the Justice Building in Twelve, Haymitch sat by the mayor's side. Punctually, for the first reaping since he started being a mentor.

After what happened last year, Haymitch wanted to make sure Effie would be fine and that the peacekeepers wouldn't take out their grudge towards her in any way.

She was moving gracefully in her stupidly high heels, stupidly forcing her accent eight notches higher, and stupidly pretending she was having the time of her life. But he knew how every second of it hurt her. Inside and out. 

“As usual, ladies first,” she revolves the papers inside the glass before choosing one. “Celia Doyle” 

A little girl steps out of the crowd, wearing the gray orphanage uniform. She's followed by the sighs of sorrow the district places over the younger ones chosen to die. The only way they can cover their young at that moment. Her little body trembles as she walks. But she doesn't cry and no one cries for her. Haymitch realizes Effie freezes and fixates her eyes on the girl, as if seeing a ghost. 

The girl reaches the stairs, but Effie doesn't move to welcome the newcomer as she usually does. Celia steps up to the stage and now, looking closely, he recognizes who she is. The girl who Effie stepped up for. The girl for whom Haymitch had bribed the peacekeepers to prevent her from getting beaten up. She grabs Effie's hand and stays by her side with ease. The girl knew she was beside someone who would care for her. Effie closes her hand around the girl's and tries to form a sentence, unsuccessfully. Haymitch gets up and raises Celia, who is reluctant to let go of Effie's hand, to his arms, and approaches the microphone.

“This is my mentee this year.” He said into the microphone, forcing a drunk-like alteration in his voice. “Isn't she a doll?” 

“She definitely is!” Effie finally snapped out of her trance “Now let's find out who's the lucky boy who'll have the honor to accompany Celia!” She stirs the boys’ name slips in the reaping bowl and picks one. She comes back to the microphone, by Haymitch's side. “Alexander Doyle” the last name dying a little in her voice.

The boy was as a ghost as Celia. Another gray uniform. The same district sorrow, the same memory. He ran to the stage and positioned himself between Haymitch and Effie. Mentor and escort looked at each other in disbelief and sadness. She turned to the crowd again. 

“Well, well, well” Effie said enthusiastically, but her voice trembled. “What a sweet pair of tributes! I assume you're related?” She let down the microphone to Alexander 

“She's my little cousin,” He said, protective.

No one in the crowd reacted. And it was their way of defiance, when everyone in the Capitol would be making excited exclamations.

“The cuteness gene certainly runs in the family! Now,” Effie motioned for Haymitch to put Celia down and he did. “Ladies and gentlemen, the tributes of district Twelve! You two can shake hands now.” The kids obeyed, shaking each others hands strongly, secretly competing, holding a giggle “Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favour.”

–

In the car, Effie gently wrapped one arm around each child, their heads resting softly against her chest. Haymitch usually doesn't ride with them, but this year he sat on the opposite seat, bushing his knees with Effie's.

The kids quietly played a game of thumbs. Effie had her eyes closed. She didn't brief them on the next steps of her schedule, there was no point. Her only job with the twelve-year-old tributes was to give them a comforting last week. She'll insist to blame herself, but Haymitch will eventually convince her that she read the names fairly, but the bowls were probably full of only Celia's and Alexander's names. 

The two cousins were part of an act of rebellion.

Madison escaped the train on Effie's watch.

And Haymitch's sins in his games were never forgiven nor forgotten.

Under the sun of District Twelve’s 68th reaping, Snow punished four birds with one stone.