it's fallen | mackenzie

all our times have come
here but now they're gone
seasons don't fear the reaper
nor do the wind, the sun or the rain

In the hours before the bloodbath, Mackenzie felt useless. There was no more advice to be given, there were no more deals to be made. His tributes had made their beds, it was true, but he had been there to tell them how, and as he sat in the den, he worried he'd told them wrong. The silence was almost enough to make him scream, eyes clouded with anger, mouth down-turned with sadness, hands shaking with fear. He didn't want to fail them. He didn't want them to die.

One of them would; both of them could.

A picture began to slowly fade into view from the black blankness of his television screen. Caesar Flickerman, smirking into the camera in that father-on-the-holidays way; like he was so excited about the gifts to come that he could barely contain himself. A small clock counted down in the bottom right hand of the screen. Five minutes.

"Shit," he said; Jacquelyn patted him on the back.

"You made it out, Mackenzie. And Jacinta, too. There's no reason—" He hoped she was right. God, he hoped she was, but the worst part of this was the uncertainty. The quiet. The silence that lingered, even the moments when Caesar was spouting off facts about his excitement to reveal the new arena, his excitement for this years tributes, his excitement about every god-damn-thing that kept the rest of them up at night.

He closed his eyes and willed it to be over sooner; intrusive thoughts burning their way through his kind and leaving nothing but ash and scar in their wake. What if Angel didn't try? What if he just fell to his knees and let the others have him? What if the regret of volunteering was enough to make him step off that podium long before the final sixty seconds were finished? What if he'd been a fool to trust Lex with Denali? What if she stabbed her in the back, first chance she got?

What if he never managed to save anyone. Maybe that was Mackenzie Pryce's penance for survival: to be alone.

They rose into the arena, black tie event. He'd become familiar enough with those to know they weren't practical. Lex looked strong; Angel showed promise. Just as soon as the gong rang out, Angel swept in and snagged the first shiny metal thing he could find, and he was gone.

He lived. He didn't give up. That was enough for now. Mackenzie didn't waste time worrying about all the other things he would need; that would be taken care of eventually.

As the fighting dragged on, Lex remained. Denali was by her side and it was reassuring as possible, given the circumstances. They fought back. Every person who stepped in their direction with intent to kill was met with a warrior's repercussions. One by one, until none remained but the two of them.

"Did she w—" His heart caught in his chest.

"Did she win the fucking wealth?"

His hand grabbed Jacinta's knee as if to anchor him to the ground. They lived. Angel was untouched and Lex struck Games gold.

If only for a second, he allowed himself to be hopeful for the first time.

"I've got some sponsorship meetings to attend," he said, standing. He didn't smile, but he felt the ends of his mouth tugging in an upwards direction as he closed the door behind him.