Thicker Than Water

July, 75 ADD

Family dinners, that's what they called them. Finnick, Kallan, Mags, and Annie. They each had their own home, all the victors in 4 did. They were beautiful. When Kallan first got hers she was so excited. But she was so young then. The houses all sat on the coast, overlooking the bright beautiful ocean. They got boats too, but Kallan hardly went on hers. If she went out to sea she let Finnick do it, she didn't trust herself to man a ship. He was better at it anyway.

Finnick hosted the dinners. Annie was usually at his house anyway, and Kallan usually came over with Mags, who did a lot of the cooking, she excelled at it. Then the four all sat around the table, and it felt so normal. Sitting around at a table in a house that they "earned" by killing 23 people. Maybe not directly, but that's what happened. They never talked about that, they just ate the food, feeling grateful for each other.

But tonight had a tension that most family dinners didn't. For the past few months they'd observed the 74th Games' victory tour. It was the first ever with two victors, whose Games they'd watched as well. Kallan's 17 year old eyes trained on the romance happening in the arena the whole time. It was remarkable, two people being in love in a Game where one of them would likely end up dead, but then they didn't. But the tension wasn't from that. Then tension was from the next Games, the 75th Games. Each of the people at this table already held a special connection to the horrific Games that were put on every year. And this year was a Quarter Quell. They were always different, there was always a twist. First voting in tributes, then double the tributes. Kallan dreaded to think what this year's could be. It was fine, it wouldn't be her in the arena. But it would be her mentoring whatever sad kid got reaped like she had, like Finnick had. Like Annie, and Mags.

"As a reminder," Snow had been saying, as the family turned to the TV as they finished up dinner. "That even the strongest," Kallan's eyes narrowed, she stood, "cannot overcome the power of the Capitol." what did that mean? Kallan's feet were pulling her forward, until she was sitting on the couch, in front of the TV.

"Even the strongest?" Kallan whispered, mostly to herself. What did he mean? The entire room was silent.

"On this, the third quarter quell Games," Kallan's hands were practically shaking. It was fine, there was no way they were going back. It was fine, it wasn't her. "The male and female tributes are to be reaped... from the existing pool of victors in each district."

No.

Kallan felt her ears start to ring, and she tried to remember how to breathe. Everything was getting blurry. Over the ringing she could barely hear Snow saying something about "Victors shall present themselves on reaping day, regardless of age, state of health, or situation." but it didn't matter. She could barely hear Annie's scream. Barely hear a plate crashing against the wall as Finnick threw it. None of it mattered. Because she could do math. There were 5 female victors in district 4. And 2 male victors. 2 of those 5 female victors were her family. If Annie got reaped, she was going in. If Mags got reaped, she was going in. There was a slim, 40 percent chance that she wouldn't be going back to those Games.

Annie's sobs got muffled, Finnick was probably holding her. Mags was silent, but that wasn't surprising.

Kallan stood off the couch, and she headed for the door. No one stopped her, she walked out, and the air hit her face. It was cool, coming off the sea. It was the first thing that made her breathe, and she thought she'd cry, but she didn't. She just started walking back to her house. The house she hardly spent any time in. It was just down the path from Finnick's, right on the shore.

She really thought after all that they'd dragged her through, the Capitol might have been done taking things from her now that she was 18. Now that she'd fought to the death to survive in a purgatory like arena, now that she'd met the families of the kids whose blood was on her hands, now that she'd mentored four other kids, trying to keep them alive and failing, now that she'd had her innocence, her virtue, her right to choose taken from her. But it wasn't enough. Clearly it wasn't enough. They were going to make her do it again. She knew in her heart that it would be her. Not Librae or Muscida, not that either were in any state to fight. Muscida was on the verge of drinking herself to death, and Librae had practically become a recluse once there was another victor to mentor the kids after the 72nd Games.