things that never died | [delia/harlan]

The war would never be truly finished, but the 6th battle was long over and long-lost. She still waited to go home some day, really. Not just physically, but truly return there, and she was beginning to accept that it would never come. She would forever be tethered to a time, rather than a place. There was a Delia who existed before the war, but who would ever remember her? Who would ever care to when the Delia she was now was so very, very different? She wasn't healed yet. She probably wouldn't ever be. And that was okay. She no longer wanted to be happy, really. She only wanted someone to be gentle enough with her grief that she could safely feel it until she no longer wanted to.

And Errol was- if nothing else- a safe place for her to land. I would never leave you, he'd said, standing in the entrance of her room professing a love she hadn't previously been aware existed: "I know I'm not all mysterious, or dangerous. I'm not wildly successful or handsome. I'm not even from One. But I would never leave you." And though she did not possess the ability to feel the same way, a girl turned cruel and vindictive with a heart that only stung with loss, she accepted his love. And now she had a hankering for pickles all the time and she hadn't gone one day without feeling nauseous. Pregnancy would do that to a gal, she supposed.

"They've asked to speak with you," he said from the other side of the kitchen counter. They. The ever-present and unknowable they. The many changing faces, all connected to one beating heart. They. She didn't know why anyone wanted to speak to her specifically, unless maybe someone had figured out that she was with child, but she'd been careful not to mention it to anyone. She almost hadn't even told Errol, but he was her personal assistant, after all, always escorting her to and from locations and speaking in the times when she would've surely gotten herself into trouble. Keeping something like that from him would've been too big a challenge anyway, not to mention the child she carried was his, too.

"Alone?" She asked. He nodded solemnly. She sighed.

---

Two hours later, she was sat in a chair staring across a barren wooden table at one Harlan Godfrey. There were cameras present in the room, not yet a single blinking red dot though. She'd already done her interview, just as scheduled. She'd prepped for it, studied notecards and everything. This was completely sprung on her, and not something she was allowed to prepare for at all. Though she was at this point a master of hiding it, Delia felt extremely anxious in the palpable silence.

It was strange being so close to the man. Seeing him in person was different than on television. On screen it was easy to see him as something... other. Not a man, a character. A master of control. Without the filters though, she could see that he had pores, and the vaguest remnants of dark circles that'd been covered by makeup. He was still an alarmingly handsome man as far as she saw it, but also, another thing that she noticed, not one much older than she. He may have been better at faking it than she was, but he probably didn't have any idea what was going on most of the time either. It did little to help with the nerves, but she took quiet solace in the fact that at least his human-ness meant that he wasn't impervious to flaw.

"How are you feeling?"

Delia's eyes flicked to the cameras, asking a silent question.

"We'll film later. For now: How are you?"

"Fine, I guess. Not super sure why I'm here yet, though."

He nodded, looking down at the files in front of him. Clearly, he hadn't been expecting the Games to pan out the way they had, either. She was sure the struggle of putting out all the fires was annoying on the other end of it. Good, she thought.

"Let's make a deal with each other: I will be honest with you, so long as you are honest with me. Sound good?"

No, she thought. No one who offered honesty as a first option ever had any intentions of doing so. Not when they wore designer suits and had empires to protect. But, of course, she couldn't say that.

"Open book," she said, crossing her heart.

Harlan cleared his throat and then, by way of reply, started reading directly off of the paper in front of him. Strange, she thought, seeing him like this. Usually, you wouldn't know he was even reading from something if you couldn't see it in screen. Shit, she thought, they know. She had to make a conscious effort not to cover her stomach with her hands in the moment.

"Did you attempt to aid either of the tributes from District One in winning the 9th Hunger Games?"

She was caught so off-guard by the question that she snorted once, briefly, before managing to respond: "No?"

"There was some audio in the Games that warranted concern, and which I have been asked to provide clarity on. Do you know what audio I could be referring to?"

"Um, no. It was a bit difficult to hear people's conversations over the giant sink hole opening up in the middle of the arena."

He waved his hand and a door opened, an avox wheeled in a monitor on a trolley with an old-fashioned remote which Harlan plucked from the shelf and clicked play on. Delia could tell from the angle that she was watching the feeds from one of the cameras inside those weird pergolas all over the ground this year. The collapse hadn't started yet and the kids from her district stood close together.

"Do you remember what Cordelia said to us on the train?" The voice undeniably belonged to Aston, the boy. As soon as he stopped speaking, Harlan paused it. Delia's eyes widened. "No- no, see that's not even- I didn't even say anything. I just-"

"If there is nothing to hide, then just tell us what you told them. It'll make this process a lot smoother for everyone involved."

"Nothing!" she said, her voice risen with concern. She genuinely couldn't recall what the kid was talking about. She was so caught up in defending herself that she didn't even notice the moment when the cameras finally started recording. "He said all he could do was run fast, so I told him to give it a try!"

Harlan nodded, then pressed play. Aston immediately spoke again- "I will go to the other side of the arena. So we are not near each other…" Imogen, the girl spoke next. "Yes, yes, go. I remember. But not too far. It might be useful to have a friend nearby." And then, to make things worse, they took each other by the hand.

"You're aware that victors are not allowed to aid tributes in the Games in any way, correct? We just want to be absolutely certain that you didn't give either of them any advice, like that they should work together."

The held hands was really gonna do a number on her case of defense, here.

"I literally swear I had nothing to do with that. I don't know what they're talking about! All I told her was not to go into shock before the Games started! That's it!"

"So they made this supposed advice you gave them up, then? What reason would they have for that?" This plan of separation, this holding of hands. Remember? They both did, apparently. She didn't.

Delia struggled to come up with an answer. She didn't know. Nor did she think either of them realized how dangerous something like this could mean for someone like her. But that didn't change or fix reality: she was now in deeply dangerous waters.

"I don't know! People are dumb! Why would I risk my neck for them? I don't even know them. And look, neither of them lived anyway so I really don't know what the big fuss is about!"

Harlan looked pained. She thought back to what he'd said earlier- he was asked to provide clarity. So there was someone else calling the shots here, not him. It wasn't Harlan she needed to convince, it was whoever was watching through those cameras.

"Maybe they took something out of context or something, I'm not sure, but I promise I didn't do anything. I got too much I care about."

He nodded: "Yes, your siblings. Lucky and Molly, correct? My reports say you aren't in contact with either of them."

"Nuh-uh, wrong. I talk to Molly sometimes still. The lady she lives with- Gretchen- is just a bitch about setting up visits. And Lucky is just-" It took her until that moment to realize there was a reason Harlan knew the names of her little brother and sister. And it wasn't likely because he was a fan.

"I've done everything! I've played the part I was told to play! That's it! If you don't want me to talk to 'em from now on, fine! I won't! I swear." It didn't matter if her life was in shambles, or if it was burning to the ground within her. Whatever burned inside her was hers to burn until the moment all that was left was ashes and smoke. But she would protect it until her last breath.

Harlan paused.

"That may be more difficult than you realize."