Chapter Text
In truth, he was happy for a minute alone to think. After she left, he lifted the bottom of the burlap bag, and the weapons slid out onto the floor. Kneeling beside the pile, he picked up the Peacekeeper’s rifle he’d killed Mayfair with and cradled it in his arms. Here it was. The murder weapon. Not in a Capitol forensic lab, but here, in his hands, in the middle of the wilderness, where it posed no threat at all. All he had to do was to destroy it, and he would be free from the hangman’s noose. Free to go back to the base. Free to go forward to District Two.
District Two.
The solution to their unspoken problem was suddenly clear. “Lucy Gray!” Coriolanus stumbled out of the cabin, ignoring the raindrops on his face, now a mere sprinkle.
The storm was ending. “Lucy Gray!”
She hadn’t wanted to flee by herself. Too lonely. Her song said that she needed, loved, and trusted him, but would she follow him?
Even he had to admit he didn’t know what awaited him in Two at officer training. His thoughts raced—it would be a simple matter of bribing the right drunkard Peacekeeper to hide Lucy Gray on the train with him to Two. Once they arrived, though...
He couldn’t imagine Lucy Gray blending in there, especially if they had televisions. The populace would surely recognize her from the Games. And then what? Would she be sent back to Twelve? Would he? Then their situation would be worse off than being condemned to life in the wilderness.
He looked down at the Peacekeeper’s rifle, then across the lake. She was nowhere in sight. He walked down to the lake, trying to remember where Clerk Carmine had been digging before he brought them the katniss plant. It didn’t matter. The swampy area around the lake was deserted, and the bank undisturbed.
“Lucy Gray?” The only response came from a lone mockingjay on a nearby branch, who made an effort to mimic his voice but failed, as his words were not particularly musical. “Give it up,” he muttered to the thing. “You’re no jabberjay.”
No question, she was hiding from him. But why? There could only be one answer. Because she’d figured it out. All of it. That destroying the guns would wash away all physical evidence of his connection to the murders. That he no longer wanted to run away.
And Sejanus? She must have figured out that Sejanus was the third person Coriolanus had killed. Still, to think he’d kill her? He looked down at the loaded gun in his hands and couldn’t remember picking it up in the first place.
But she didn’t know about his transfer to Two. He'd been searching for the right time to tell her, and then after—after everything, after he knew he would never go to Two—he hadn't told her.
Already soaked from the earlier downpour, Coriolanus stripped off his outer Peacekeeper’s uniform, tucking it with his few remaining personal effects under a rocky outcropping. Slinging the gun onto his back, he waded into the water.
The mud underneath his feet was cold and he found himself sinking into it. As soon as the water was deep enough, he kicked out his legs and began to swim to the lake’s center. He treaded water in the center while removing the gun from his back, letting it fall from his hands to the lake’s bottom. There. It was over.
He began the swim back to shore, blinking the raindrops from his eyes. As he waded back through the muddy bank and up the shore to collect his belongings, he looked around again for any sign of Lucy Gray. Nothing.
He hurried back to the cabin, grabbed the rest of the weapons, and repeated his actions, drowning the guns in the lake. Lucy Gray didn’t trust the guns? Very well—so they went.
Panting from his two circuits around the lake, Coriolanus sat at the shoreline, wet and defeated in the muck. Was she watching him?
A cool breeze picked up as the rain stopped altogether. A few hours ago, this would have been welcome. Now, he shivered. “Lucy Gray?” His voice echoed across the lake. “They’re gone! Where are you? I’m not going anywhere! Please! Lucy Gray?”
Coriolanus wasn’t sure if it was the cold air, the exhaustion, or the absolute relief of finding the guns after thinking he was condemned to a life in exile, but his voice caught, and he began to weep.
Sejanus was dead. And he might as well be, to Lucy Gray, because of it. His sobs turned to angry cries as he felt bile rise in his throat. The emotion consumed him—anger at Sejanus, anger at Highbottom for condemning him to this backwater district, anger at Gaul for, well everything. For making his one home unsafe. For tormenting his peers. For what she did to Lucy Gray. Really, how could Lucy Gray be expected to trust anyone, now? After the Games? How could he? Really, he had had no choice but to turn Sejanus in. It was Sejanus or Coriolanus. And Coriolanus knew he would always be the Victor. Surely Lucy Gray could understand that of all people. Surely—
Lucy Gray's voice came to him unbidden. People aren’t so bad, really. It’s what the world does to them. Like us, in the arena. We did things in there we’d never have considered if they’d just left us alone.
He just had to convince her. She would understand if only he had a chance to explain. After all, they wouldn't be in this position if it wasn’t for Sejanus’ foolish actions. If Strabo Plinth hadn’t insisted on buying his son out of trouble until finally even the Plinth fortune wasn’t enough to spare his heir from the gallows.
Still no sign of her. He resigned himself to tracking her down in the woods. Though the storm had stopped, the air was damp and the earth muddy. Soon, the woods would be alive with mosquitoes. At the thought, he went back to the house and pulled his fatigues back on. Leaving the cabin, he scanned the ground until he found the slight imprint of her shoes. He then followed her tracks until he reached the brush where the woods began again in earnest and quietly made his way into the dripping trees.
Bird chatter filled his ears, and the overcast sky made visibility poor. The underbrush concealed her footprints, but somehow he felt he was on the right track. Adrenaline sharpened his senses, and he noticed a snapped branch here, a scuff mark in the moss there. A patch of orange caught his eye, and he smiled. “I don’t want you to lose me,” she’d said. And he hadn’t.
He was just stepping closer to the scarf when he heard a cry directly into his ear, causing him to jump back in alarm.
Startled in turn, a jabberjay took flight from an adjacent branch, settling in a higher roost above him, peering down at him eerily. Its mouth opened, repeating the cry.
It was unmistakable. The pained cry belonged to Lucy Gray.
“Lucy Gray!” he shouted in return, “Lucy Gray, are you hurt? Lucy Gray!”
The jabberjay fell silent, cocked its head to one side, then began to repeat his words.
Another jabberjay landed several yards away, taking up the cry. Shouts of “Are you hurt?” pervaded the sound of her tears all around him.
He began to run, clasping his hands to his ears. He did not hear her call his name until he nearly tripped over her.
He stumbled, but righted himself enough to turn to the origin of the bird’s echoes.
Lucy Gray sat on the damp earth, back braced against a tree trunk, one leg propped up awkwardly in front of her. He stared into her eyes. Red, puffy eyes, glistening with tears.
"I'm sorry," she blurted out, turning her head away from his gaze in shame.
He stared at her in confusion, then knelt beside her. "You're sorry?" he echoed, not understanding.
She closed her eyes and shook her head in embarrassment.
He gently placed a finger under her chin, tilting her face toward his. "You can tell me," he murmured.
She squared her jaw defiantly. "This—" she gestured at herself on the ground, "wasn't supposed to happen. I was going to slink away, all quiet-like, and let you go back to the life you deserve. You deserve to be able to go back—without me, you don't have to run. You can make your way back home." She'd gathered her composure, and was working her way up to her final line.
Her voice dropped an octave. "I thought it'd be easier for me just to leave, not to try and convince you—"
"Lucy Gray—"
“You have to go," she interrupted him, her voice strong and determined now. “You weren’t supposed to find me. Now I have to convince you. But you know it's the right thing to do. For you, for your family."
Coriolanus shook his head, not understanding, and opened his mouth to speak, but she interrupted him. "And before you say another word, might I remind you that you've already saved my life twice. We're even now." She raised her chin haughtily, daring him to challenge her.
He was stunned speechless. She'd left… for him?
He felt an ache spreading across his chest, but it wasn't unwelcome.
His face softened as he spoke, “I’m not leaving. We both are. You’re coming with me—to District Two.”