Grief's Arrow [Olivia & Katelyn]

The boy who died and lived to fight again. Katelyn had had her eye on him from the start. He had made fourth place on his first go around and he’d only been twelve then. Shy was a bit of an odd duck, not one for talking, but then he’d had to live through the trauma of the games twice. Who wouldn’t have a few eccentricities after that? She wished him well, wondering if he’d find kinship with Annie or Lysander.

Olivia asked her if she felt proud.

It was a trap, that was what it was. No right answer, just a way for anything and everything to be misconstrued. Over the last year or two, Olivia had made it clear what she thought of Katelyn; idealistic but willing to make the smart choices.

There was nothing to be proud of, she almost said, wondering if that line of thought would cause the woman to twist her words further. Or perhaps twist a knife she was keeping in her purse.

“They were never going to make it home,” she said after a moment, watching an orange and white striped fish swim in a little circle. Some species she’d never learned the name for. Education in eleven only briefly covered things like geography and biology. Not much use for that when the government was training them all to be worker drones in the fields. “Maybe ten, fifteen years ago I’d have been proud. Before I learned how things worked.”

Before she’d learned that idealism could not remain unchecked. That a boot would come down on a neck. It was a daily struggle for her. There was a deep desire somewhere in her soul that longed for something better because it knew better was out there. A desire that was ever at war with the calluses surrounding her heart from all the hits she’d taken over the years.

Snapping about what Olivia wanted her for was unnecessary.

Things felt fractured. Opal had been distracted, distant since the proposal. It made her sick, wondering if she’d erred, done something wrong. Katelyn knew that people drifted with time and friends never lasted forever. She’d made her peace with that though. She had her memories, the good and the bad.

Everything ended, whether a person fought for it or not, sometimes time was simply up.

Didn’t make it hurt any less though.

“Too many underdogs nipping at the Capitol’s heels and the whole country is liable to get fleas.” The admission was bitter on her tongue, but she felt that she’d spent enough time in the Capitol over the years, dealing precisely with people like the Secretary to understand how they thought.

Delroy, and to a lesser extent Neysa had been some of the most problematic tributes from eleven in recent years. That the final four had had tributes from five, ten and twelve had no doubt made some important people uncomfortable. Shy’s victory had been a cause of celebration, ending a victor dry spell of over two decades for the laughingstock career district that two had largely become.

Katelyn turned away from the aquarium to look at the shark.

Olivia wanted something, that much was obvious. Something beyond continuing to be a “proper” victor for the cameras. But Olivia liked to play her little mind games too and usually danced around the point for a bit. It was all theater of course, for whatever reasons made sense in that twisted old goat’s head. There was something she wanted her to do or perhaps some punishment to be meted out.

If not barbs about her relationship with a career mentor then something about Delroy, if Katelyn had to guess. She’d anticipated that his treasonous speeches—the parts that had made the broadcasts before getting cut off at least, would result in a reminder that such things could not be tolerated. Because who was fostering that type of thinking? It takes a village to raise a child as the saying went and—

Katelyn sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. She could feel a headache starting to form.

“How can I be of service?” she said dully.

It was the same every year. The weeks following the end of a games always left Katelyn in a glum mood bordering on depression. She didn’t have the energy to deal with Olivia using the type of fire she was known for.

It didn’t help that Opal was apprehensive about such a big change, scared of losing her the way she’d lost Potato. But other than that, all Katelyn could focus on was the pair of coffins she’d be riding home with, that Delroy’s idealism and Neysa’s fire had not been enough to carry either of them home.

Was it greedy of her? To want to bring them home year after year? Four living victors was more than half the districts could hope for. But it never seemed like enough. Even Kass hadn’t been enough of a push to retire as a mentor. Not when she could still be doing something. But what was she doing? Del had forced her to reexamine whether or not complacency was complicity.

So the lofty powers above had deigned to launch an official investigation into the rather obvious rebel leanings in district eleven. Katelyn couldn’t say she was surprised. It was the sort of thing that was only a matter of time. Like the government sending in death squads to eradicate all of the gangs in district nine. It had to happen at some point. Nothing could remain so unchecked forever.

There was nothing she could do for the Wickersham family. What she should have done was force Delroy to understand that his words were a loaded gun pointed at his district and everyone he cared about. Too late for that though. Too late when she was tasked with helping a fucking peacekeeper investigate everyone she cared about.

An example must be made, Katelyn.

If she disagreed, it would be seen as favoring rebellion. If she agreed, Olivia would find some way to twist the knife further.

“Yeah. That’s usually the case.” She said neutrally. It was a very short list; people that could be made an example of in eleven. She could take her lumps, but she dared not mention anyone at all, lest Olivia decide to punish them on that basis alone. She felt like she was in the detention center again. Not in control of her fate but holding on for dear life as the storm tossed her around like a rag doll.

“Lieutenant Harlow,” she said pursing her lips and turning the name over in her head. It wasn’t a name she recognized. Perhaps he hadn’t been stationed in the district before. Some Capitol bred and born man ready to complain about the smell of manure and the lack of amenities in a backwater place like Eleven. She fully expected Olivia to dismiss her shortly, or at least hoped that she would.

“As you say.”

It was a bad thing for Katelyn’s head, having to deal with the woman during her post-games slump.