Breathe in, Breathe out • F Odair² •

XVI

"Need some help?"

•∘♔∘•

The darkness the plate lifted Athena into lasted about fifteen seconds. In that time, Athena stopped pounding against her restraints and stopped calling Mags' name. She still found it nearly impossible to breathe, though, and she realized after a split second that she was sobbing, tears pouring down her face and sobs being ripped from her chest. Mags was dead. She had been killed. It wasn't a dream, it wasn't a hallucination, it was real, she had seen it. She felt everything falling apart, something razor sharp piercing her heart, and her lungs still seemed to be closing in on themselves, her head pounding painfully hard.

Not Mags, she thought. Not Mags, not Mags, why Mags? Why?

Even when she thought of the mission, she couldn't wrap her head around why Mags. She was only one part of the plan. Was it simply to send a warning? To lower morale? Or were the other mentors dead too? She couldn't bear to think it. Perhaps Mags was the only one involved Snow knew about? She was heavily involved in the mission... but what about Plutarch? Surely he wouldn't kill the Head Gamemaker moments before the Games were to start? And why kill Mags so violently right in front of her? To break her? She wouldn't put it past Snow. If that had been his goal, it worked.

Why Mags? Why Mags? Why?

But at that moment, the glass was retreating and Athena was standing free in the arena, the breeze catching her hair. She squinted against the bright light of the sun, felt her feet get wet, and for one horrific moment, she thought it was blood - until she looked down and saw that her metal plate was surrounded by blue waves that lapped up over her boots. There was water spreading out in every direction.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the voice of Claudius Templesmith, the Hunger Games announcer, boomed overhead, making her jump and her body tense up, "let the seventy-fifth Hunger Games begin!"

The Hunger Games were about to begin. There was only a minute. She needed to - she needed to - what? She couldn't think straight anymore. Her thoughts were occupied entirely by Mags, the way she looked beaten and bloody, the Peacekeepers dragging her lifeless body away, the injustice and the unfairness and the painfulness of it all... and why? She could think of nothing else, but even then, it was hard to form coherent thoughts with the way her head was pounding, the way her whole body seemed on the verge of melting down over what had been done to Mags. The thoughts were consuming every part of her, overwhelming her, threatening to destroy her then and there. It was painfully tempting to give in to it. Mags, the woman with welcoming eyes and a kind smile, the woman who knew so much without needing to be told, the woman who was always so fiercely clever despite so few seeing it, the woman who saved so many, who saved Athena, who practically raised Finnick... subjected to something so vile and cruel and painful...

Finnick. Where was Finnick? She needed to find Finnick - and Katniss and Peeta and protect them, she knew - but it seemed more important that she tell him about Mags. And perhaps this was foolish and selfish of her, not prioritizing the mission the way she should, and maybe Mags would have called her on it, but she had no way of knowing that now because Mags was -

She needed to find Finnick.

Her eyes scanned the circle of other tributes, squinting against the bright light of the sun, trying desperately to find him, muttering his name over and over again, but he was nowhere to be found. The Cornucopia was blocking him from her view. Frustrated and terrified and still reeling, she gave up trying to find him. She spotted instead someone with a flash of blonde hair and a stocky frame. She couldn't make out his face, but Athena was fairly certain it was Peeta. The sight of him reminded her of the mission. The mission they had all agreed to take such a large risk to complete. The mission that made Mags a target, the mission that, one way or another, was the reason for Mags' death - of that Athena was sure. This mission was about something far too important, and too much had already been lost and sacrificed for it, for her to fall apart now. So despite the overwhelming pain and grief and fear and confusion she felt then, she forced herself to push it down, grit her teeth, and become the person - not just the person, but the player, the Career - that she needed to be to get the job done.