In the Wake of the Tide: A Hunger Games Fanfiction

Chapter 9

Andario found himself in the arena, surrounded by the faces of the other tributes as they stalked him, analyzed him, waited for his first reaction. He jumped back, scurrying across the sandy terrain. Each one of them slowly crept towards him like cheetahs, ready to give chase. He saw Galena, Deccan, Link, Alice, each tribute glaring with soulless eyes. He begged them to stop, joking about how creepy it was. None of their mouths moved.
    He kept backing up until he hit against a rock. As he turned his head, though, he realized it wasn't a rock, but Thresher and Gabria's legs. He begged for help, pointing at the other twenty-one tributes fast approaching. Gabria and Thresher stood, unfazed. He looked up and was horrified to see they sported the same soulless eyes as the others. His eyes widened, a grin spread across each of the tributes' faces, a maniacal and devilish smile that pierced his heart.
    Andario ran, trying his best to sprint away through the shifting ground. He screamed for help, but there was nobody else around to hear his cry. The sand sifted beneath his feet, each step sinking him further into the dunes. He glanced back and saw the other tributes, motionlessly walking towards him, hovering above the sand. He screamed for them to stay away, to leave him alone, to let him live.
    Suddenly, he spotted the golden structure of the Cornucopia slightly off in the distance. His breath heaved, his heart pounded. He forced his way through the sand dunes, each raise of his leg more weighty than the last. The other tributes were fast approaching despite their slow movement. He tried swimming through the sand as he would have the ocean in District 4, but that only slowed him down further. Tears streamed from his eyes. He wanted to be away from it all. He wanted to be safe back in District 4. He wanted to live.
    Finally, he reached the Cornucopia as the tributes were only feet away from him. He desperately clung to the searingly hot metal, near molten from the unforgiving sun. He climbed, every limb in his body burning, his tears instantly evaporating the moment they touched the gold structure. A hand wrapped around his right leg, which he desperately kicked off. After repeated hits, the hand let go, but another one instantly replaced it. He felt hands as they began grabbing at his feet, his legs, his waist. Dragging him down. He screamed for them to leave him alone, but the pull continued, hands grasping at his chest, his shoulders, his arms.
    With one heave from the tributes, he lost his grip, dropped to the sand, and hit his head against the Cornucopia. He felt the blurry vision from his concussion return as the world began to rock. The tributes encircled him, maliciously staring at him, still sporting the same devilish grin and soulless eyes. Andario screamed for them to stay away. He begged for them to spare him. Sturm emerged, wielding a massive mallet. The blond beast raised it above his head as Andario pleaded for mercy, sobbing. Then, Sturm let the mallet fall, and Andario crossed his arms above his head to weakly protect from the incoming blow.
    Suddenly, the dunes of sand turned into raging waves. Andario sat in the corner that had grown so familiar to him. The rocking that had plagued his vision turned into the aggressive sway of the boat. Lighting struck at the mast as Andario spotted his brother at the railing. His eyes were still streaming with tears as he called out to Albarus, begging as he always did. Begging for his brother to step away from the ledge. Begging for the universe to spare him. Begging for Albarus to show some kind of emotion, some kind of survival instinct, something. And he watched as the massive wave hit, Albarus engulfed in the dark blue depths, the jaws locking around his arm, and the four words that escaped his brother's lips.
I love you, Dario.
    Andario screamed, alert and drenched in sweat. His heart raced at a million miles an hour, his pulse echoing through his head. He took a moment to steady his breathing, realizing it was just a dream. He noticed Maxwell was gone, nowhere to be seen. It must have been late into the night — or maybe early in the morning — as the dark and star-speckled sky sparkled over the ever-illuminated Capitol high rises. It was the first time he'd noticed how little stars shone at night in the Capitol. He supposed that was one of the things the Districts had that the Capitol could never get.
He remained uneasy, energized from the lingering adrenaline, so Andario decided to go for a walk. They had access to a beautiful balcony on the fourth floor, one filled with a garden growing all different kinds of flowers. Stepping out, the cool night air shocked his senses, the concrete floor cold to the soles of his feet. He gripped the railing as he stared out across the city. Even this late, the Capitol was as lively as ever, with the obnoxious colours, the blaring music, and the flamboyant people. He questioned if they ever went to sleep, but knew based off his experience with Ryx that they used supplements to counteract the exhaustion. It was a silly and stupid method, Andario thought, as they become reliant on the substances. Yet he realized it was no different to their reliance on the Districts or the Capitol government. They simply had the power and privilege to get away with it.
Andario questioned how different his life would have been had he been born a Capitol citizen. Of course, he wouldn't have been sent to his death as a tribute, but what else? He wondered if he'd have ended up like Ryx, with the artificially altered body and the need for flare, or if he'd have ended up like Abriz, the professionally ambitious and confident stylist. He wondered if he'd have enjoyed it more, or if he'd have found life boring. Would he have gained as fond of memories as he had in District 4? Would he even have been able to create fond memories? He assumed the Capitol propaganda and indoctrination would have swayed him drastically, especially growing up with it, but he still wondered if he'd have despised the Games as much as he did in this life. Would he have tried to stop it? Or was it too great a risk fighting against an entire nation? He considered there were people like Maxwell and Abriz who seemed not entirely fond of the Games and sending children to death, but they still made their livelihoods off of it. Would he have done the same? Would it have been to provide some support or comfort to the condemned, or purely to rise the ranks? He wondered if he'd have suffered the same way he did in this life. From his neglectful parents, from oppressive governments and ideals, from the loss of his brother. Would he have even felt the suffering if every day was the same? Would he have been different? Would he have changed? Would he still have been the Andario he knew?
The moral dilemma increased the pressure in his head from the concussion and the already significant amount of worries weighing on his mind. He decided he didn't have time to waste on hypotheticals. He was being sent to death. He swiftly headed for the door after taking a large breath of the night air, deciding to check and see if there were any drinks offered at the time of hour to help with sleep.
When he turned the corner into the dining room, he was surprised to see the light on in the lounge area. Gabria was curled up on one of the plush chairs, a silken robe strewn across her fluffy pyjamas, her chin resting on her knee. She was contemplating something, her hair falling from her messy bun and covering her still face. She was basked in the moonlight shining through the massive Training Centre windows, and looked as though she was frozen in time. She hadn't noticed his approach.
    "Can't sleep either?" Andario said softly, heading to an indent in the wall at the end of the dining table that housed multiple tea bags. He rooted through and analyzed each kind available to him as she jumped up, surprised to hear another voice.
    "None of your business," she growled.
    Andario had decided to try one labelled "earl grey" and dropped the packet into a cup, trying to figure out how to heat the ornate Capitol kettle sitting next to him. "Okay, no need to be so hostile," he said, finally finding the switch. He found it strange there was no need for a stove or fire as the kettle spurred to life. "These Capitol people really live in a world of their own, huh?"
    There was a moment of silence, he presumed from Gabria deciding on whether or not she wanted to speak to him. He continued to watch in fascination as the small electricity-powered base heated the water faster than he'd anticipated.
    "It's different from District 4," she stated.
    He hummed his agreement. "Imagine if we lived like this."
    Another pause. It seemed like she was warming up to the conversation, and Andario thought he could sense she was hoping for someone to talk to.
    "It would be different," she agreed. He turned to look at her, but her gaze was directed at the moon high in the sky. She looked serene against the night, as though she'd dropped her defences. And she looked beautiful, which irritated Andario. Gabria didn't have to do anything and she'd still draw the eyes of the Capitol.
    "Do you think you'd have stayed the same?" Andario posed the question exactly how he'd posed it to himself on the balcony.
    Gabria dropped her eyes back to the room and turned to face him. "Nobody would." She said it as though the question was inherently stupid.
    "No?" He pressed.
    Her eyes dropped again, this time to the floor, analyzing the small circular rug. "No," she asserted. "It would be completely different."
    "How?" He made sure to continue tenderly, as he knew if he put any form of pressure on her, she'd pull back into her walls.
    "We wouldn't fear anything," Gabria said. "We wouldn't have to fight for anything. It would only be the day to day."
    "What would change for you?" He was curious. Gabria had always been confident in life, as though she wouldn't change a thing. Ambitious, determined, constantly seeking the next best goal. He supposed she would find a different goal had she been raised in the Capitol, like climbing her way to becoming the president of Panem. And he could see it, in the hypothetical world. She would have done it.
    "I would be happy and loved." She said it so softly, he'd almost missed it. Andario's eyebrows furrowed, his eyes widened. She didn't provide any further explanation, though, as she brought her knees closer to her chest and hugged her legs.
    "Everybody loves you, Gabria," he stated, snorting. "The Capitol, District 4, even Anguilla. Your parents think you're a wonder, and—"
    "They're not the right people," she concluded, her voice solemn but rigidly stern.
    Andario was puzzled. Who were the right people, if the entirety of Panem wasn't? He wanted to keep asking, demanding what she meant or who she was referring to, but he knew better. Based on her tone, she didn't want to continue the topic, and he didn't want to lose the conversation by keeping it up. Neither of them spoke for a moment, the only noise being the steaming hot water pouring into Andario's cup.
    "What do you think of this, Dario?" He was thrown off, unable to anticipate her question. Especially such an open-ended and loose one.
    "What do you mean?" He asked.
    "You know," she clarified. "All of this. The Capitol, the Games, the other tributes. All of it."
    Andario laid down his cup of tea on the dining table, taking a seat and pondering. "I think it's a nightmare," he stated honestly. He'd debated on holding in his words, but what could the Capitol do to him now? He was already being sent to the arena to die.
    Gabria nodded, pressing her lips together. She almost seemed bitter, still staring at the rug. He questioned what the bitterness was for. He'd thought she supported the Capitol, but maybe that had changed now that she was here. Or maybe she was bitter at herself for volunteering. Or she remained bitter for his volunteering, which he still didn't understand. Andario couldn't tell where her head was, but he barely ever felt like he had a grasp on it.
    "You're an idiot, you know. For volunteering." She said it softly this time, not the usual yelling he'd grown accustomed to. He simply pressed his lips together and nodded, accepting the statement as she continued. "You shouldn't have volunteered for the boy. Either way one of you was dead."
    "I guess I couldn't let it be him," he responded.
    Gabria shook her head. "But there was something more to it, wasn't there? That isn't the reason, but it's the one you're telling people."
    His heart stopped. She was scary good at reading people sometimes, and he hated how easily she read him. He dropped his head shamefully, staring at the cup between his hands, the swirl of steam as it raised into the air. "I don't know," he lied.
    She seemed upset by the answer, but chose not to press. She ran her finger across the velvet fabric of the seat, watching as the material shifted under the pressure of her force. "If only the Games didn't exist."
    Andario looked at her quizzically, but her concentration remained on her finger. The Games had always been her tool for fame, for praise, for recognition. It'd been her goal nearly since they'd met. He hadn't expected her to wish it away so easily.
    "Yeah, I agree," he muttered. He didn't quite know what to say, nor how to expand on it. So he let the words sit in the air, the solemn tone hanging by a thread. He gently sipped at his tea, having already emptied half the cup.
    "You better stay alive," she piped up. "Don't get killed by anyone else. I'll make sure it's quick and painless."
    The words were grim and harsh, yet he strangely felt appreciative of the notion. "I'll hold you to it," he muttered, softly chuckling.
    "We'll be the last two alive," Gabria said. She didn't sound confident in her statement, but she said it assertively, as though she was forcing him into a promise.
    "Last two," he agreed. He knew both of them thought it impossible, but the promise seemed to comfort her somehow.
    They sat in silence as Andario sipped his tea, Gabria continuing her trail along the chair. Andario felt soothed by both the conversation and the company. It felt like how they used to be, sitting on the sun-speckled beach as kids, watching the waves advance and recede as they made art in the sand. He smiled at the memory. It only took them nine years, but they finally had a moment as sweet as that. They weren't doing it for the Capitol's entertainment or for the Commune's approval. They enjoyed the moment together, for themselves.
    Suddenly, the elevator dinged and the doors opened wide. An exhilarated Ryx stood in the lift, a giddy smile on his face, his obnoxious yellow suit ruffled and stained with some kind of wine. As soon as Gabria took note of the man, she hurried to her room, her face bright red. Andario watched as she left, then turned to the amphibious man, who shared in his look of confusion.
    "Why are you two awake?" Ryx asked, puzzled.
    "Neither of us could sleep," Andario responded. Ryx briefly nodded, then stepped off the elevator, allowing the doors to close. He took off his blazer and laid it on a dining chair, strewn across the back.
    "Eventful night?" Andario asked.
    "Yes, most definitely!" Ryx excitedly called, clapping his hands together. The man took the seat next to Andario. "My wife and I decided to head out to a party, and it was absolutely glorious!"
    "Good to hear," Andario mumbled. He felt a little bitter that his escort was out partying while he was set to fight to the death in three or four days.
    "You seemed to have had an equally eventful night?" Ryx pressed.
    Andario furrowed his brows. "What do you mean?"
    "I don't think I have ever seen both of you standing comfortably in the same room since you both arrived," Ryx stated, referring to Andario and Gabria. "Did something eventful not happen for that to occur?"
    Andario shrugged. "We both just couldn't sleep and needed the company."
    Ryx's eyebrow shot up.
    "That's all," Andario responded sternly.
    Ryx chuckled slightly, looking up at the ceiling. "You know, when my wife and I first met, we were both foolishly oblivious young ones," he said. Andario thought it amusing that the ignorant Capitol man called himself foolish, but held back the smile and continued listening. "We would dance around each other, get into fights, and never communicated properly. We even watched as the other would flirt with strangers." Ryx laughed, which Andario thought strange. "But we still loved each other. We still enjoyed moments together. It was only after the cancer scare that I was able to truly communicate with her, which was the best decision of my life."
    Andario had heard of cancer once before, when an eighty-year-old retired fisherman had developed it. The man died a year later from the disease. For some reason, though, he'd believed the Capitol was immune to such diseases, and was shocked to hear that Ryx was scared over his wife's diagnosis. He thought there'd always been a magical cure in the heart of Panem, developed through their technical prowess and the work of their best specialists. To hear that someone as carefree as Ryx was fearful of losing his lover to a disease was beyond what he'd anticipated.
    "In the moments where all that you love is on the line," Ryx continued, "you discover an internal strength to fight for it."
    Andario nodded along. He thought the sentiment was powerful, but he wasn't sure where the story was going, what the meaning of it was.
    "For you both—"
    "We do not love each other," Andario sternly interrupted.
    Ryx paused and considered Andario's defiance. "Love comes in many forms, my dear hero," the sea green man stated, speaking confidently and softly. "One can love a friend as strongly as a family member or a lover. My point is that you both are facing an event where your lives are on the line. Cherish the moments now, spare no regret. This is your time to enjoy each other's company, free of despair or fear."
    Andario nodded. The words were strangely profound, deeper and more meaningful than anything he'd thought Ryx was possible of. Despite the man's obnoxious and flamboyant air, despite his Capitol-born ignorance, despite his irritating remarks, Andario smiled. He appreciated the statements and what they implied. And he agreed with it, each message as universally applicable as the last.
    "You both have been the best tributes I have had the pleasure of working with in my ten years in this role," Ryx said. "You have given me so much recognition from the higher-ups. And you pleasantly surprised me every day. I just hope beyond hope that I might pass you on into the arena as well-off as possible, with no regrets."
    "Thank you," Andario said. He'd come to recognize a different level of his escort, a layer he didn't think existed.
    "You are very welcome, my dear hero." Ryx smiled. The aquatic-like man stood, grabbing his yellow blazer from the chair. In an instant, the wise man sharing his wisdom was gone, and was replaced with the irritatingly ignorant one. "Well, I must go freshen up and head to bed! Do not forget to sleep more! We both have a big day ahead of us!"
    As the man skipped off down the hallway, Andario questioned what kind of big day the escort had ahead of him. He wouldn't be evaluated based on his ability to survive in the arena. He simply had to sit around and wait for them, sipping wine and chatting with whoever he wished. But Andario let the man off free this time, as he'd appreciated the sentimental moment they'd shared.
    He finished off his cup of tea, then quickly washed it out at the sink in the indent and left it on the counter. His mind finally felt settled, the tea having warmed his stomach and the conversations warmed his heart. He strode to his bedroom, feeling groggy, where he curled up under the sheets. He listened to the quiet hum of the Training Area tower, the white noise beginning to lull him to sleep.
    He was brought back to the train, remembering Mags's advice to think of happy memories if he ever had a nightmare. He thought back to his times with Albarus and Atlanta, playing as kids. The cheerful cries, the excited giggles, the blissful smiles. He slowly nodded off into a restful slumber, but not before remembering him and Gabria, two carefree children, enjoying the ocean and playing in the sand.