The Fire Inside

Amoret

When Camille stepped out of the car, Thomas was already running to her. "Mom!" Camille swept down and picked him up.

"Hello, my beautiful boy. Did you have a good day?" He nodded.

"Yes, I learned about multiplying and dividing. It's hard, but then Damien helped me draw a picture of a beach and Dad even let me have ice cream with my lunch." He sat on her hip as she walked through the door. "Where were you this morning? Dad wasn't here either."

"Dad and I were in the city meeting some people." Or one person, in particular. "But I'm home now."

"Ooh, can I show you my picture?" He wriggled down from her hip.

"Yes, of course, buddy. I'm gonna be in Dad's office if you wanna meet me there with it."

"Okay!" and he went bounding off.

Camille met Finnick in his office, working on a speech. "That the speech for this evening?" she said by way of greeting.

"Hi, honey," he responded. "Yes. I'm trying to figure out the best way to tell the entire world that our daughter spent the last fifteen years of her life as a slave."

"I suppose it's very similar to how you just told me." She sat down on the desk next to him. She looked at him, brushing his brown locks from his furrowed brow. "It was really hard to leave her," she said quietly.

Finnick nodded. "It was. I keep thinking that if I take my eye off her for just a moment if I even take my mind off her for a minute, she'll just disappear again." He looked up at her. "Is that crazy?"

She shook her head. "That's exactly how I feel." She leaned forward, elbows on her knees. "I can't lose her again."

He agreed. "We won't, though. I already have guards scheduled to watch all entry and exit points of the hospital, as well as the outside of the wing. They won't bother her, but they'll be there if need be." The corner of his lip lifted slightly. "Though, I don't think anyone would try anything at this point, with any of them. Save for some nasty reporters," he added.

Camille nodded. "Do you want some help?"

The pair worked on the speech for a few more moments before she left him to go bathe and change. She'd been in the same clothes for over twenty-four hours. On her walk back to the residency, she passed her oldest son. "Hey, Dami."

Her son turned to look at her, pausing his shuffling through files. "Hey, Mom. I was told you and Dad went out last night really late, what was all that about?"

She played it off with a shrug. "Urgent matters at the hospital, they were running names through the blood system for all those poor kids."

Damien nodded. "Oh, and did you hear that the Free-Lives Society donated four-thousand dollars to the hospital to pay for treatments and proper care?"

She shook her head. "When was this?"

"This morning," he explained. "Lots of new people are donating because of the kids. I'm sure more money will be donated within the next few days, whether it be to the hospital or to the military to look for more ex-slaves like them."

Camille smiled. "I'm glad these kids are in good hands," she whispered. Speaking up, she looked at him once more. "Well, I need to change, but I'll see you a bit later, okay?"

He nodded and continued on his way, shuffling through papers once more.

Camille made her way to the chambers she shared with her husband, quickly bathing and dressing in a formal outfit before she needed to be downstairs for the press conference. She blow-dried her hair and snapped gold jewelry to her wrists and ears before heading to the press room, cutting it close on time. She met her husband outside the door, relaxing at the certainty that she wouldn't have to be talking. She could hardly bear thinking about the last fifteen years without her daughter. "You ready?" Finnick asked her.