To Let Go // {61st D10 Tribs}

This is my December, this is me alone, and I just wish that I didn't feel
Like there was something I missed

Mace and I had passed countless meals in the victor house in total silence, and every single one had been more comfortable than the gulf between us right now. I dutifully take forkful after forkful into my mouth, my back straight, chin up, posture perfect while Mace shoveled food in with the back of his knife. I was momentarily in awe of just how barbaric he was being when the train lurches and I hear the creak of someone else in the room.

"Miss Lyvers," I gulped down a half-chewed bite, gripping my napkin as I shove the chair back to stand and acknowledge her presence. She is convex in a way I will never be, so round and heavy. It fascinates me. I've spent my life around children - babies, even. But I have rarely been in a conversation with someone pregnant. I want to ask her about how it feels, about when she's due, if any smells in the car set her off. But I don't know where to start, and then Noreen reaches forward, lifts a dessert and smashes it with impressive force against the window, purple and red against the blurred green backdrop.

My lips pucker, and for a second it's back to that quiet that threatens. I really mean to turn to Noreen, to ask if she's okay, but my instincts are too strong, my time with him too much. I look to Mace instead, and his face is a mask. His dead grey eyes are the only part that betray him. And they glisten as he lifts his gaze to her.

"Feel free to exit through any of the doors on the train," he begins, the knife he'd been eating with suspended in the air above the mash of food he'd been working his way through. I take a step towards him, wanting to say something to calm him down, to distract him, but the truth is that the fear coils greasily in my belly, steals my voice away so that all I've got is the thundering of my heartbeat in my ears.

"Before you go, maybe you'd like to remember who the fuck I am." And Mace gets to his feet, his body softer than it was two years ago, but his height undiminished. To my relief he puts the knife down on the table, his hands curling into fists as he leans forward, his gaze intent on her. "And more importantly what you've gotten yourself into. I am coming back to Ten, and I'd wager the Capitol doctors will take whatever they dig up from inside your stomach and put it on the train back to Ten with me. I'll be there, Noreen, and when I throw things, I don't throw pies."

It is too much, too awful a threat, and I turn my back to him. It takes every ounce of courage and the rich meal in my stomach to force the first step, and then another, towards Noreen. "Miss Lyvers, perhaps I could accompany you back to your car? I think this meal is over."

Mace's snort behind me makes my spine go cold.

This is my December, this is me alone, and I just wish that I didn't feel
Like there was something I missed

The clink-clink of Mace eating again is a comfort as Noreen and I exit the dining car. I roll my shoulders back, trying to release the tension and fix my posture. It's unseemly to be slouching all the time, but in the last few hours my body seems to have curled in on itself, clenched around the knot of fear and knowing in my stomach. I wonder if it feels like that for Noreen, too, and if the proximity of her stomach to her uterus transfers such things. I sincerely hope not as the sliding door suctions behind us, leaving Mace to his meal and his threatens, and us to much more pleasant topics.

"Mrs. Lexington - I like the sound of it. Congratulations, truly," I say, because I'm aware of how precarious my position is. No one will take my words at face value any more; it will be construed as positioning, as advice from my brother, even when I rarely follow any instructions he has. If I did, I certainly wouldn't be skipping from car to car, trying to make sure Noreen gets to the right compartment. "It's a lovely ring. Handmade?" I ask, by no means a connoisseur but able to recognize a metal mangled by a machine and one lovingly crafted by hand. The flickering light of the train catches it now and again, playing off in tiny rainbows on the wall.

"I always thought the Justice Building would be a great place for a wedding. You know, with some color," I say, divulging a wish lodged in my heart that I hope will fade before it becomes distracting. No one I know will get married there now. Except Noreen, and I cling to that thought. I may not have witnessed it, but still, that dream came to fruition. I tuck my hands behind my back, squeeze them together, keeping myself from thinking too hard about things that will never come to pass.

Another set of sliding doors and we are in the sleeping compartment car. Mine is closest to the engine, but Noreen's is closer to the dining car. I don't know where Mace's is; perhaps in another part of the train entirely, or perhaps he will bunk with me. I hope it is the latter; I suddenly feel that it is I who am keeping an eye on him, which is not so very different from the last seventeen years of my life. It was a temporary blip of the last few hours for those roles to be reversed, that is all.

I lift one of my hands from behind my back, shake it through copper waves. "I don't know. He's more familiar with the Capitol than I am. But I bet they would Miss - Mrs. Lexington. They have to." I make the mistake of glancing into her wide, wondering eyes, and then look aside, ashamed that I can't offer more. "Perhaps I could bring you some dinner? You should eat." And I hate that I sound even the littlest like Mace in that moment.

This is my December, this is me alone, and I just wish that I didn't feel
Like there was something I missed

The blur of the landscape whipping by is a distraction. In truth the rocking of the train, the rapid movement, all of it makes me a little nauseous. Or maybe it's all of the heavy Capitol food weighing down my belly (although I wouldn't take back the taste of it, the true culinary orgasm that was dinner). In either case I can't decide if it's better to watch the world spin faster or to focus on Noreen. Mrs. Lexington, I mentally adjust myself, almost delighting in the news. Surely few other people know, and I feel grateful that she has shared it with me. Marriage. I can safely add that to the list of things I'll never experience.

She catches me by surprise with her bluntness. I rake my fingers through my hair, wincing. "Mace is... narrow-minded. I can always pass along what he says to me to you? And I'm here now, aren't I?" I ask quietly, catching her gaze from beneath my lashes. The truth of the matter is that I would rather spend one of my last free nights in her company, hearing about her pregnancy and her marriage and whatever else her life was in Ten, than to spend another minute with Mace when he's being wholly unreasonable. Not that he is reasonable ever, but this is a new extreme.

"You can't possibly make things worse me. I'll be right back with a plate for you." I flash a smile - a promise. Of food, of friendship, hopefully of an escape, and then quickly turn and navigate the train back to the dining car. Mace is gone, his plate as well. I hope he has disappeared for the night, but I know the possibility is remote. Instead of worrying I set to the task in front of me. Plate, silverware, food. I try to get a bit of everything onto it and then realize I'm going to need another. So I tuck the utensils into my pocket and end up with two heaping plates that make weaving through the train all that much more difficult.

Some ten minutes later the door to Noreen's compartment slides open for me. I smile, this time more shyly, as I force the plates through before walking in. "I got a little carried away. But then, this food's all for us, right? Might as well enjoy it. I think the chicken is particularly good, although it's spicy. Never really thought I liked chicken at all." I turn to the table in the room, setting down the plates and then fishing out the silverware and napkins. I realize I've forgotten drinks and my shoulders fall a little.

I debate going back for something else, but there are cups in the room and running water. I look to Mrs. Lexington, roll my lips together for a moment while the thought forms. "Don't think about the odds. I mean Mace was a long shot and he managed. And most people our age aren't married with babies on the way either," I bow my head for a second respectfully before I finish organizing the table.