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Katniss wakes early on the day of the birthday party, mostly because Simon is running up and down the stairs several times before the sun is even up. "Si, keep it down, we have guests sleeping upstairs," she hears Jude say, and a few minutes later the front door opens and closes. She decides to get up, since she knows her body well, and once she's awake, there will be no more sleeping.
It's nice in District 4, that much is clear. Part of her is upset at how nice it is, that if her mother was here, had she just been enjoying the sea shore, the sunsets, the quaint little village for the past ten years? Had she thought of Katniss at all? Katniss pulls a blanket around herself and sits out on the porch, a habit she enjoyed back in District 12 as well. She was told this was Mags old house, back when this was the Victor's Village, but same as District 12, the houses were given to whoever needed them, now.
A few minutes later, Odessa comes outside, two mugs of tea in hand, and passes one to Katniss. "The boys went digging for clams," she explains. "Sorry if they woke you."
She shrugs. "They did, but it's not really their fault. I never sleep well." She sips the tea and it's delicious, an herb blend she can't place, despite her childhood being filled with herbs and tinctures.
Odessa smiles sympathetically. "Well, at least there's a party to look forward to tonight. Even if half the guests are little kids."
There's something so incredibly Finnick in Odessa's face in the early morning light that it gives Katniss pause. It's like seeing what he would look like as an adult, just in a slightly more world-weary, and feminine face. "I wish Finnick was here," Katniss says, almost biting her tongue after as if this is taboo to say, even all these years later.
But Odessa smiles gently, then sips her coffee. "I wish he was here every day," she agrees. "Simon would have loved him."
Katniss pulls her knees up to her chest. In the house, she can hear the sounds of Peeta stirring, the bathroom door and then the faucet running. "Peeta… he would be such a good father," she says, not sure how to articulate what she wants to say. "And I think he deserves to be. I'm just afraid of myself as a parent. I failed my sister, in some ways I failed Panem, and when I fail I just want to be alone."
Odessa smiles. "Well, you won't have a moment alone as a parent." She sets her coffee down and turns to Katniss. "Truthfully, I can't give you great advice, I've never been in your shoes. I saw how hard the Games were on Finnick, and I can't even imagine being on the front lines in the war. It was bad enough here. But I don't think you should blame yourself for how you acted when you were still a teenager. You were practically a different person." She sighs, fingering a charm on a necklace around her neck, a piece of sea glass. "As for being a parent… well, that's up to you. Have a kid because you want to bring a child into this world, not because you think you ought to, or because you owe it to Peeta. And if you do, trust yourself a little more."
Once Peeta is dressed, they take a walk along the beach. Enobaria is there jogging, as disciplined as Katniss remembers her when training for the Quarter Quell. She nods at them and continues on. A little further on, Katniss sees Annie and Johanna setting up a tent of some sort. She's avoided Johanna, admittedly, since she feels Johanna blames her for Finnick's death and Haymitch staying in 12 all these years. Perhaps she should feel the same about Annie, since the reasons apply to her as well, but Annie is kind and tactful, while Johanna will just say whatever she feels. But there's something else about Johanna that sets Katniss on edge, something in her movements, her sunken cheeks, her standoffishness. She was on morphling, or something like it, and Katniss couldn't decide if she was frightened or intrigued, tempted by the addiction that she had broken years ago.
"Need some help?" Peeta asks, and before she knows it, Katniss is helping them set up the tent, staking the ends into the rocky sand, and weighing the canopy down with sandbags. It's large, with open sides, a shade tent for the tables of food and seating they plan to bring down to the beach for the birthday party.
Johanna is saying something to Annie about the food, and Annie is double checking a list in her hand. "Yes, go get both of those, and have Seamus bring the chairs. I'll start setting up the tables."
Katniss watches Johanna and the child go, and then feels comfortable approaching the group again. She sets up a couple tables with Peeta, and then, out of breath, they take a break before tackling the next two. "I'm going to jump in the water," Peeta says. "Want to come?"
"You're fully clothed! Seriously?"
Peeta shrugs. "I'll dry off." And then he's off, an almost child-like grin on his face. She wonders if she keeps him from making that expression, if he finds he can't have fun in District 12, with her, if sometimes he wishes to be away from her.
She turns to the boardwalk, and all thoughts of Peeta fade, as she sees her, walking along the path from the village towards the hospital, probably on her way to work. Katniss's mother seems to detect the eyes on her, and she turns her head, noticing Katniss standing on the beach. Behind her, Annie and the others are still setting up, unaware of the woman on the boardwalk, or Katniss's sudden anxiety. But she is there, when Katniss had least expected her.
Slowly, Katniss walks towards the boardwalk. Now that they've made eye contact, ignoring her mother doesn't feel like an option. As she approaches, she realizes that her mother looks older. Realistically, she's only a few years older than Haymitch, probably, but she looks grayer, with more lines on her face. And once she gets up on the boardwalk, perhaps a little further up than she needs to be, out of the sightline of the beach, they're both silent. What in the world can she say? She didn't have the courage to visit her mother the day before, she hadn't gotten this far in her plan. Part of her wants to yell, to tell her mother about how miserable the first years had been alone, to tell her she missed Prim too, but did she hate Katniss that much? Part of her wants to cry, and be held, and have her mother tell her it's alright. Part of her wants to fall to her knees, to confess everything that's happened like she might have when she was young, about how she fights with Peeta sometimes, about the morphling, about her fears about having children.
But instead, it's her mother who speaks first. "Katniss. What are you doing here?" she asks, as if that was what was important.
Being pushed off-balance manages to keep Katniss from becoming overly emotional, at least. "I was invited. By Annie," she says. "Her son is turning 10."
There's something there, a tension in her neck, perhaps, at the mention of the child. Was she thinking of Katniss? No, probably Prim, like always. "Ah," she says, no-nonsense. "Would you let me get a look at you?"
Katniss feels like she's at the edge of crevasse, like if she takes one more step she might fall in, or the tears might burst forth, and she doesn't know which would be worse. She can't cry here - she can't give in - because what good would that do? Her mother would hear her out, maybe even comfort her, but in the end, she'll always stay here, away from Katniss, so it will just hurt more when Katniss goes home. She steps forward for her mother to see her face, to look her up and down, and the lump in her throat is like a leaden ball. She wants to be embraced. She wants her mother to rub her back and say she's sorry. She digs her nails into her palms.
"What are you doing? Katniss, are you alright?"
Katniss turns to see Johanna of all people, returning from the Victor's Village, arms laden with tablecloths, Seamus beside her with a few folding chairs. She nods at him and he continues on to the beach. Katniss's mother straightens up, her mask back on. The moment is over, and Katniss finds she's grateful for it. "Johanna," she greets. "I hope you've been well?"
Katniss remembers when Johanna was in the infirmary in District 13 for what seemed like months, and wonders if she's been in the hospital here in District 4 as well. The tone between her mother and Johanna is icy, however. "I've been excellent, thank you." All three of them can tell it's a lie, but no one is going to call Johanna's bluff. "Katniss, are you ready to go back?"
And she finds that she is. There is nothing she's going to get out of this conversation that will make her satisfied, nothing that will close any of the gaps inside of her. She nods and turns to go with Johanna. Her mother takes one step towards them, and Katniss pauses, almost out of instinct. "Katniss, I didn't mean-" She stops, almost as if she hadn't planned to say this, and she isn't sure what, exactly, she didn't mean.
"Save it," Katniss says, because intentions don't matter, really. Her mother stayed away for ten years, who cared what she meant?
When they return to the beach, Peeta and Annie have finished with the tables, and are moving them into a U-shaped arrangement. "Where were you?" Peeta asks. "I got out of the water and you disappeared."
"She came looking for me," Johanna says. "Thought I couldn't even handle tablecloths."
Katniss wonders if she misjudged Johanna, or if Johanna just really dislikes her mother. Johanna did risk her life to keep her safe in the Quarter Quell, but at the time, Katniss thought that was a favor to Haymitch or Finnick or one of the other rebels. She tries to decide if she wants to tell Peeta about her mother. Probably, but not yet. Once they're alone.
That evening, the beach is aglow in candlelight, there is a buffet of food on the tables, and one of the local troupes are playing music. Haymitch watches as Seamus runs in the surf with his friends, all of them playing a game he can't quite understand the rules of, the children stopping every few minutes for another few bites of food.
He goes for another drink under the tent, and Enobaria is there, pouring a glass of wine. "Try it," she encourages, with a teasing smile that looks foreign on her usually serious face. "I know you prefer something stronger, but this is the District 2 specialty."
"Did you just pack your whole bag with bottles of wine?" he asks, accepting a glass.
She shrugs, sipping her own drink. "Six bottles fit nicely in their own carrier. My bag had two changes of clothes, my running shoes and shorts, pajamas, and a toothbrush."
It is just like Enobaria to answer his question directly, and to have her packing down to a science. He sips the wine, and true to her prediction, it's the best wine he's ever had. He doesn't particularly want to give her the satisfaction, but he can't help but go for a second sip right away. There's so many things he wants to ask her, so many things he wants to tell her, but he doesn't know where to start. Ten years is too much time gone by, and yet not enough time for the dust to settle. She was gone from that Capitol prison by the time they captured the others, so she never came to District 13. He only saw her once, at the end of the war, at Snow's assassination, and so much was going on that they never spoke, but what would he say, anyways? He felt that he owed her something. He was older, and his rebel actions got her in the trouble she was put into, but captured was better than dead, right?
"Are you doing alright?" he asks, and secretly he knows this question is to ease his conscience, that he wants her to say she's fine because he'll be able to sleep easier knowing one less life is ruined due to his actions.
She blinks, as if the question is unexpected, and takes a deep breath. He wonders if she wants to give him a list of her dead family, of every assault that happened to her in that prison, of the devastation District 2 faced during its civil war. "Of course I'm not alright!" she probably wants to say, and how dare he put her up to the question. But instead she relaxes her shoulders a bit, her face more pleasant. "I'm doing better," she says. "I think this weekend was a good idea." Then, turning to him more fully, "It's good, isn't it? The wine, I mean."
He nods. "It's delicious."
Enobaria's attention is turned, then, and Haymitch follows her gaze to the stairs near the boardwalk, where Johanna is standing talking to a man he doesn't recognize. It's hard to see through the shadows, but Haymitch recognizes the distinctive motion of a handoff, this was obviously Johanna's dealer. He watches them for a second, trying to parse their relationship from their body language. It isn't affectionate, but there's familiarity there. Johanna turns away after a moment, going towards Annie, and the man is standing by the stairs, surveying the party. Haymitch takes a step towards him.
"What are you doing?" Enobaria hisses. "Stay out of it."
It's sound advice, really. This isn't his place, and he has no reason to talk to this man, who he vaguely thinks might be Finnick's brother-in-law. But he's drunk and a little impulsive, and ten years of being away from anyone except Katniss and Peeta have made him wildly curious about everyone else. He had taken a walk last night with Johanna, trying to recover from his first attempt at conversation when he accused her of being an addict right off the bat, but he'd gotten very little out of her. She had asked about Katniss and Peeta, and about himself, deftly keeping the conversation on his life and thwarting his attempts to ask about her life by telling him about Annie or the boy instead. "I'll be right back," he tells Enobaria, finishing the wine in a gulp that warms his chest and steels him as he makes his way to the stairs.
The man looks up as Haymitch approaches, and Haymitch can smell the alcohol on his breath. So they were both drunk then, fair enough. "Haymitch Abernathy," he says, extending a hand.
"Ryder Nautis," the man says. "You friends with Annie?"
Haymitch shrugs. "Friends is probably a bit too generous. I knew her during the war."
"Annie is a good girl," Ryder says. "She'll call someone a friend even if they don't deserve it."
Haymitch can tell that even if this man is a drunk and a drug dealer, he's protective of Annie. And that was fair enough, he supposes. Annie was here alone with her child, she needed looking after. "I was surprised to see she and Jo are so close," he says. He doesn't exactly want to show too much of his hand, to imply that he has a past with Johanna, but his curiosity is currently winning.
Ryder eyes him suspiciously. "Jo's a good girl as well," he says. "She's been good to Annie, better than I have been." He shoves his hands in his pockets, making as if he is ready to turn away and rejoin the party.
Haymitch nods, feeling suddenly like an interloper. He had come to see if Ryder was what? Jo's boyfriend? Had bad intentions towards her? But what right did he have to do any of that? He is coming to this District after 10 years away, pretending like they're all meeting up in the Capitol again for another Games. And as much as he's grateful for the end of the war, for the fact that Snow is dead and he never has to experience another Games as a tribute or mentor, something about seeing them makes him nostalgic. He misses this, he realizes. Misses when they came together every year, when he had a reason to see people with the same messed up experiences as him. Now, even Katniss and Peeta have moved out to a further part of the District and he sees them less often, it's just him alone in District 12, no one else who knows how fucked up the Games were, and the Capitol, and the mentoring.
"Did you know her from before? Johanna?" Ryder asks him this now, handing him a cigarette as they walk back towards the party. He doesn't usually smoke but he accepts the light, happy for something to do with his hands. It comforts him, in a way, that Ryder doesn't recognize him. He's too old, he realizes. His Games were too long ago.
He nods. "Yeah, from before the war." Everything was before and after the war. The way his entire life was split now. He thinks it should be split up as before and after his Games, when he lost his family, Lenore, when he learned what it really meant to be a victor, but he learned that he didn't truly understand the depths of cruelty of the Capitol until the war. Either that, or the war was more fresh in his mind, those losses like a wound fresh enough that it still bled if he picked at it.
"You from 7 too?"
He shakes his head. "No, from 12."
Ryder shakes his head, as if impressed. "Woo! Should have brought that white liquor if you came from 12!" They rejoin the others, Ryder pulling Seamus in for a hug, and Haymitch drifting back to the drinks. He passes Beetee, sitting by a bonfire with one of the girls who must have been a classmate of Seamus asleep on his lap. He looks content, holding the child as she sleeps, and there's something heartbreaking in the image.
"Can I get you anything?" he offers. "A drink? Slice of cake?"
But Beetee just shakes his head, as gently as he can without waking the girl. The sky has turned navy blue overhead, stars twinkling. "I'm alright, thanks."
The party shows signs of going well past midnight, but there comes a point long past dark when all the children are asleep tucked under blankets on the beach chairs, and it's just adults talking around the fire or walking up and down the seashore. It's nice, Enobaria supposes, but the niceness was in the community, and these weren't her people. It makes her miss her brother, her mother, even her sister, as irritating as she could be. She misses Antonia and her nieces, even though she saw them three days ago. The sea, which would be so unnatural in District 2, makes her homesick the longer she watches it.
"Want to walk?" It's Johanna who asks this, all twitchiness, despite the late hour. Enobaria nods. She had lost track of the conversation a while ago, and she needed to get away from the water. Johanna smiles, just a twist at the corner of her lips. "Let's stop back at the house, I need to get a jacket."
Enobaria agrees, it is colder than she expected for late spring, and they walk up the stairs, along the boardwalk, and into Johanna's little shanty of a house. Johanna disappears into her room, closing the door for a moment, and Enobaria goes and finds her jacket. A moment later, Johanna reappears, and tosses her jacket on as well. It was too short of a time to inject morphling, but she could have taken a pill, or Enobaria had heard people could take it through their nose or up in their gums as well. In any case, she looks calmer. "Did you think about it?" Johanna asks, and Enobaria has no idea what she means.
"Think about what?"
"Doing something wild." Johanna pushes the door open and disappears back into the night without another word, and Enobaria wonders if she should follow. Part of her just wants to go to bed. Part of her wants to get a train ticket, fuck the last day she was supposed to stay, even if Annie will be disappointed. But still, she goes. She wonders if she's really just obedient, as Johanna says, or if there's another reason, that part of her is curious about pushing the boundaries a bit.
"What kind of wildness do you have in mind?" she asks, mostly out of curiosity. She can feel herself sobering up, she has fair judgment, she thinks.
Johanna shrugs. She's still a few steps ahead, but she's shorter than Enobaria, so Enobaria is catching up quickly. "Whatever you want. Get a tattoo, steal something, cliff dive, I don't know."
Enobaria thinks about this. She doesn't want a tattoo. They were still unpopular in District 2, and the only people who had them were soldiers trying to communicate which side they fought on in the war. She already has two gold hoops in each ear, the traditional piercing for women in District 2. She also doesn't want to make trouble right before she leaves town, or steal from someone who might not have much. She spies an outcropping of rock, just visible against the night sky. She knows this must be a popular spot. "Cliff diving there? Fine." It seems fun, maybe, or at least something to get Johanna off her back. A memory of District 4 that she can brag about to her nieces, like she used to with the Capitol, when she would plaster over the awful parts by telling them about the crazy fashion and foods she'd never seen before or since.
"Really?" Johanna looks to the cliff also. It's high, but not impossibly so. She can already tell it's a place other people have jumped from, even though they're a quarter mile away. But then she remembers the Peacekeepers drowning Johanna in the prison, and thinks she probably really does love Annie, to be out here at the sea shore after that.
"You don't have to do it, I'll do it myself." Enobaria starts walking over, and thinks maybe she's more drunk than she thought, her stubbornness showing through.
"I'll do it," Johanna says. "Can you even swim?"
She went to the Career Academy, of course she could swim. It was a stupid question. Even if she didn't practice much, it isn't a skill that is forgotten. She wouldn't have offered to jump into the sea if she couldn't swim. She's already hiking up to the path that climbs the cliff, Johanna following behind her now. When she gets to the edge, she pulls off the jacket and her shirt and pants, standing in her bra and panties. She feels ridiculous, but it's no more exposure than the skimpy outfits she was forced to dress in when she was a mentor. And here it's dark, and there's only Johanna. Johanna takes off her clothes as well, and Enobaria can see the scars on her chest, the swollen veins at the crook of her left elbow. She wants to say something - to tell Johanna it's fine, that Enobaria can do this alone - but there's such a challenge coming from Johanna, daring her to say anything, that Enobaria keeps her mouth shut.
There's no sense delaying, so Enobaria moves to the edge, close enough that she can see the water below. She can tell it's deep: it's night, but the water is still and dark, the tide much further in. They are on a cliff that overhangs the sea, and she knows logically she'll be alright, but there's something dangerous here. She's jumping however many feet- 40? 50? into the black stillness, only to emerge mostly naked where she'll have to hike back up to get her things. She tries to imagine the plunge, but she knows it will be icy cold. The water has been cold the entire time she's been here, and she has wondered how the kids have been enjoying it when it's so uncomfortably frigid.
"Ok, I'm going!" Johanna says, running past Enobaria and leaping off. She seems to hang in the air for just a moment, and then she's underneath, a pale figure crashing into the surface, and then sinking below. Enobaria follows, suddenly uncomfortable waiting on the cliff alone, and the fall is shorter than she expects. Johanna has broken the surface tension, but she cuts like a knife through the water, sinking lower and lower than she anticipates, so that she has to spend effort swimming back to the surface.
She laughs when she surfaces, both because the inhale is such a relief, and because the cold water is causing her to feel strange, almost giddy. She wants to tell Johanna that maybe they should do it a second time, but Johanna isn't there. She turns quickly, her glee turning to panic with the terrible feeling of static in her ears, but still she can't see her.
Finally, after what feels like a minute, she sees bubbles a few feet away, and Johanna does surface, thrashing too hard. She's coughing and sputtering, and Enobaria doesn't know if the best thing to do is to go help her or to stay away, in case Johanna drowns them both. But instinct takes over and she swims closer, grabbing Johanna from behind, her arms around her chest. "Relax, I've got you."
Johanna does as she's told, her arms falling still, her head lolling back onto Enobaria's shoulder. "Fin?"
Enobaria bites the inside of her cheek. "No, just me." They don't speak again as she swims back, pulling Johanna along with her. Once they get to the shallow water, she lets her go, and Johanna stands and walks in through the shallows beside her. "You didn't tell me you couldn't swim," she complains, but it's half-hearted. She's exhausted now, ready to abandon her clothes and find them in the morning. She wants to get in bed and sleep now. She remembers why she sticks to the straight and narrow - it's because she was in the Games, twice, so risk-taking just doesn't hold any appeal.
Johanna coughs again, then wrings out her hair as they get onto the beach. Distantly, they can see the fire from the birthday party, a half-mile away or so. "I can swim," she insists. She turns to climb the cliff again, apparently determined to retrieve their clothes. "I just… I've never tried to make that jump, and it surprised me. It reminded me too much of drowning."
She doesn't apologize to Enobaria, or thank her, but this is more or less expected. Johanna was never much for politeness. Enobaria follows Johanna up the path, and watches the gooseflesh appear on the back of Johanna's arms. "Well, I did it," she says. "Now I can go back to being boring tomorrow."
Johanna walks in silence for a while longer, but turns around once they're back at the summit. "You're not boring," she says, and it's the most romantic thing anyone's said to Enobaria in years.
Enobaria leans forward and kisses Johanna, quickly, before she has time to second-guess the decision. Her lips are cold, but her tongue is warm, and they kiss for a few seconds atop the ledge. She laces her fingers through Johanna's hair before she breaks away to take a breath, and the moment is over. She leans down, picks up Johanna's coat, and drapes it over her shoulders. "Should we go back?"
Johanna nods, collecting the rest of their clothes, and handing Enobaria hers. Enobaria imagines a version where she asked Johanna back to District 2. "It's dry there," she'd say. "You'd never feel like you're drowning." But she doesn't, of course, and the two of them walk home quietly, and sleep in separate beds.
The party ends after midnight, though Beetee isn't wearing a watch, so he doesn't know the exact time. Annie is wrapped in a blanket with Jude beside her, Seamus on his back, and assures the last guests to leave everything as it is. They've brought the food inside, and there won't be wind overnight, so they can clean up in the morning. Beetee accepts this, and leaves the chair he was sitting in right where it is.
"You coming, Beetee?" Annie asks, as she turns towards the stairs.
He nods. "I think I want one more cigarette," he says.
Jude smiles. "Sure thing. Lila's daughter kept you busy for hours, take your time, smoke a couple."
Beetee didn't mind the girl who had come to show him some shells she found, and boldly climbed onto his lap, and a few minutes later had fallen asleep, probably exhausted from the hours of party games and stuffed with cake and other treats. She was sweet, curious and kind, and small and warm as she napped against his chest. It ached like nothing he had felt in years to hold a child against himself.
It felt surreal to be at the party. He was told that Seamus's class was the smallest at the school, a year of children conceived right before and during the war and born just after. It is hard to believe they're ten years old now, but it's true. What has he done in that time?
He lights a cigarette and starts walking north. He had seen someone jump off the cliff to the south and wants to go the other way, to be sure he won't have to speak to anyone while he's walking. He's so tired, he wants to just curl up on the chair with that little girl again, but she's back home with her mother. Or better yet, he wants to be with Ampert, who would be an adult now, Haymitch's age, and they could talk and smoke together, but that is an impossible dream. He presses the cigarette back against his wrist, the burn a sickening pain that he can feel on his skin and deep in his throat as well, and then he releases it.
He knows he's not unique. He knows that Haymitch has ghouls he can't get rid of, so he tries to drown in liquor. He knows that Johanna is traumatized from her experiences during the war, so she's still on the morphling. He knows Katniss probably will never be able to forgive them for what they asked of her in the war, and he doubts he'll be able to forgive himself. He tells himself it was for a better future, one where no one would have to suffer as Ampert did, but at what cost? He knew the plan in the final battle, and he didn't stop it. How could he hold that child tonight, knowing the blood on his hands?
He flicks his cigarette onto the rocks and lights a second. Then he wades into the water. It's chilly, but he hardly notices. He's alone in District 3, really, after all this time, so what's the point of going back? He ought to just stay here. He's up to his knees, and it's nice, to finally get in the water, the first time he's been in since he arrived here. He moves forward, in the dark, towards the boats docked some distance away, in the much deeper water. He has two cigarettes left, and he moves them to a chest pocket.
He thinks of his ex-wife, Ampert's mother, their marriage effectively over after the disaster of the second Quarter Quell. It was a folly to even think he could marry and be happy as a victor, but that was Snow - let you have a taste of happiness so it was worse when he took it away. She died a few years ago, cancer, he thinks, though he hadn't visited. He knew she didn't want to see him, even on her deathbed.
The water is past his waist, and it's hard to reminisce now. It's cold, it's encompassing. He lights the third cigarette, doubts he will get to the fourth before it's soaked. He remembers his own Games, of all things, all those years ago. He had camped at the cornucopia long after all the weapons and food were gone, using just a bit of wire and a jabberjay to make the cornucopia into a giant speaker, blasting the jabberjay's calls into the whole arena. Once the remaining tributes were more or less incapacitated, he took them out, wearing the ear protection he was gifted. It was ugly - he still had to murder several children - but it was a District 3 victory. He used his brain just as much as his brawn.
The water is up to his chin, and he smiles. It'll be over soon now. A wave laps against his face, extinguishing the cigarette. What a way to go, he thinks. After a party with perhaps the only people in the world still fond of him, in the sea of District 4, drunk on District 2 wine, smoking District 7 tobacco. And he had held a child in his arms just that evening! He feels tears come, hot and heavy, and they cloud his vision and mix with the water that is now too deep to stand in. He lets himself sink underneath.