Go Down To The Lonesome Valley Chapter 13: A Song, a hunger games fanfic

"...All at Capitol News are saddened to confirm the death of Haymitch Abernathy, mentor to the Girl on Fire, Katniss Everdeen. Mr Abernathy died alone in his apartment from alcohol-related causes, two days after the miraculous conclusion to the 74th Hunger Games. The tragic Tribute Ms Everdeen gave her life to protect Rue Turner, the little Mockingjay, youngest victor in Hunger Games history..."

"...lay to rest the rumoured 'Ghost of Katniss Everdeen'. Investigators have stated that the recent murder with a bow of two District 12 Peacekeepers was committed by an unrelated terrorist. The perpetrator, named as Gale Hawthorne, is being actively sought in the wilderness surrounding his District. His family, abandoned by this ruthless killer, are in the care of the proper authorities. District 12, we emphasise, remains quiet as her loyal citizens mourn their losses..."

"...fifteen of our best loved singing stars have covered 'All my Trials', with more expected before the Final Interviews. Following the release of pre-Games security footage to the Interweb, four more covers of 'His Eye is On the Sparrow' have already taken flight. Adoring fans have flocked to download the songs of the little Mockingjay's heart. They seem as helpless before her innocent smile as the many Tributes who fell before her charms."

"Don't miss the Littlest Victor's Final Interview! I can't wait to find out what's really behind those big brown eyes!"

The Present. 74th Hunger Games, three days post-games. Victor Recovery Clinic

Silence. Something dripping, the tube stuck in my arm. Someone by the bed….

"...Thresh?"

No. Mr Chaff. Smiling sad, just like Thresh smiled sometimes, before...

I shut my eyes. Like I was hid in a tree or caught in a fist, I couldn't move.

"Done good, Rue-girl." Mrs Seeder's voice broke the silence, "All Eleven's dancing for joy and praising God. Even took a collection up for Thresh's family. Your folks are fine‒"

Pa. Mama. Home! I surged up in bed, but everything hurt.

"Easy! You ain't going home until after your Crowning, anyhow."

Crowning? Oh yes, I was a Victor, though I barely believed it, I was safe. And everyone else was dead. Forever, for certain. Now the Capitol folk would crown me, and send my folks back a strange, silent thing covered in pretty dresses and money‒

I spoke very fast. "Mrs Seeder, can you go to Eleven? Go, get a Capitol doctor for Pet and a new mattress for Mama's back‒buy everyone else a whole food store! Get Billy Joe a new arm and find Katniss' sister‒"

"What with? Sorry girl; you won't see a cent until that Crowning and final interview. You're a Victor, but still a Tribute."

I should've known (it was graven on poor Chaff and Seeder's faces) Not even winning made me free. Anyway, how could money buy Prim another Katniss? What could free me from the pain in my heart?

I wanted to cry my last breath away, but no tear would come. I wanted to thank the Lord for my life, but I didn't dare. He'd carried my spirit out of hellfire on eagle's wings–but now that spirit had flown, I was only broken shell.

Eleven. Was my home still there, after so much time? Could I possibly go back and make my parents happy? I could just stare down at my right hand, waiting for it to fall off or wither, like Thresh's arm or Chaff's. Days after I'd reached out to Foxface, then slapped her cheek and killed her, it still stung.

"I warned you. Don't trust anyone," Seeder's voice was harsh, "You'd never be feeling such pain if you'd never trusted. Though you'd have most likely died alone."

"'He who keeps his life will lose it.'" Chaff laboriously quoted, "He who loses his life will keep it.'"

Seeder looked at him like a talking horse. I still hadn't tears, so I just screamed out grief, fit to tear me apart.

"Stop that!" Chaff's voice was deep and clear, "You didn't want them to die, it was the Games! You only twelve!"

They were still dead. Katniss, Thresh, Peeta, even Foxface gave up her life for me. God had saved me, Jesus had died for me–but I'd kept my life. Lived off their deaths, like the Capitol living off all our sweat and blood. I was lost, I was dead...

I didn't see Mrs Seeder, until she slapped me.

"You sorry those kids died for you?" She bent over me fiercely like a kite, voice snapping, "Well, no one died for Chaff, or me! We only lived by killing, starving, betraying our allies, but you never did, and they chose you to live. So you gonna go home and live, girl, whether you want to or not!"

Head spinning, I flung my weak little body out of the bed, and into Seeder.

"Send me back! Wanna go BACK!"

My ankle buckled, Seeder crashed down with me. Chaff tried to catch us and failed. As my spirit went out, we were all lying tangled together. Like a family, but not mine. I just couldn't reach them.

‒0‒

"I know someone who knows someone at Capitol News. Katniss and Peeta's families, they're bearing up. Foxface's parents are okay too. She didn't tell you they were divorced, did she?"

I didn't answer; Mrs Seeder fell back into silence. For four days, I hadn't given her a word. Still bird-thin from the Games, I'd barely eaten a thing.

Mr Chaff had stayed beside me. I'd noticed when he spoke, he wasn't drinking. Dead as I felt, he looked so sad I felt for him.

"Mr Chaff?" Both Mentors started at my voice, "Sorry I never saved Thresh."

"No, Rue, he's gone to better. Couldn't have died better. Better than living as a useless killer, and….dying bad in the end."

"Tell her," Seeder muttered, "She can take it."

In a miserable, halting voice, Chaff told me about his friend who'd died, Katniss's Mentor. They'd always drunk themselves stupid after every Hunger Games. Only this time, they'd fallen out over me.

"Twelve hasn't had a Victor for years…he really hoped Katniss would win. When you and Thresh beat the Twos, everyone was cheering‒Finnick and Johanna were nearly dancing‒but Haymitch just threw his bottle at the screen and fell to yelling at me. Thought he'd get over it. He would've, if I'd just been with him that night. Choked on his vomit."

I put my hand in Chaff's hand. I sat up and looked him in the eye.

"Mr Chaff…you're sorry about your friend? Your drinking, everything?"

"Not sorry enough. Just feel dead inside. Should've saved him."

I shouldn't have killed Katniss, or Marvel. Should've hugged Foxface, not hit her. Begging God for answers, I gripped Chaff's hand so hard

"I understand. Feels like dying…this sorrow. But ain't that the only sorrow that's enough? Dying in our sorrow and sin, to live like new, for the Lord? Like you said…we lose our lives, to keep them? Mr Chaff, you want to pray?"

Chaff's head bowed down. Big as he was, no man was meant to carry such burdens.

"I tried. Don't know if I can."

"I understand. Let's try together."

We did. And after that all my troubles vanished away, in the freedom and peace of Chaff's face. I'd always bear sorrow in me, for my friends who died. But now there was joy for my friend God had saved, and if He was with me nothing would stop my joy again. Wasn't this new life, beyond the fire, a sorrowing heart living for others' joy? Living in the joy of the Lord Himself, rejoicing that He held and kept me still.

"Mrs Seeder?" I reached my hand out.

She was still sat down, "Booze for Chaff, and Haymitch, religion for you. Everyone needs something to escape the Arena. Everyone but me."

"Oh, Mrs Seeder." I reached a hand out, "The Games hurt you worst, didn't they? Keeping fit, barely eating, doing all the Capitol says. It's like you never got out at all."

Without a word, she walked over and hugged us. We rested like that, together and I felt all my friends that had gone were with me.

Katniss. Peeta. Thresh. Foxface. I'm sorry. Thank you. Thank you Lord, you didn't leave me alone.

The Present. 74th Hunger Games, two weeks post-game. Recap and Crowning ceremony

My new dress was black and red, a little floor-length gown covered in frills. Little wings, of course, and bare shoulders. A dress for a fairy queen, or a young witch. I'd kept the Mockingjay pin. Whenever it caught the light, Katniss shot through my heart.

I had a silver cane too. My twisted ankle had been too abused; the Arena's trees would be the last I'd climb. Trunks rougher and paler than back home, they'd stood tall above all our bloodshed.

"...remember, Thresh killed Peeta." Seeder was by me, in the wings, "He had to be sure you would live."

I though on the heavy apple trees of Eleven, where I'd rested in the sunlight. Eleven, where theybeat weary fieldhands bloody. Pet never wanted to watch, but I made her. Every family had to watch.

I'd watched them lash boys and girls, my friends; thinking on their faces, I couldn't even sleep. I'd had to bury my heart in the quiet branches and songs of the Mockingjays, too scared to really face their cruelty. But it had caught me anyhow.

"You listening, girl? Look…three outer Districts allied this year, to save a little girl; that ain't quite how the Games are meant to go. When they say anything bad things about your allies, don't argue, just agree. Just think of your family, girl. Get through this."

As I stared at her, some blaring mess of my favourite song boomed out. Mr Flickerman's voice rose over it.

"...the Little Mockingjay, the littlest Victor, the little miracle! Everyone show your love for RUE TURNER!"

I stepped out alone, into the lights, the mashing hands and screams. I smiled, and all the jewel-laden old grannies wept for joy. I was the darlingest little sweetie-pie ever to win the Hunger Games. All in green, and grinning like a 'gator, Mr Flickermann knelt to kiss my glove.

"Oh, my dear Rue...still smiling."

"Got to keep smiling, Mr Caesar."

Everyone laughed‒couldn't they see? If I didn't smile I'd break up. Their Games had killed all the innocence they'd praised in me. But I still could smile, and maybe they'd never know why.

74th Hunger Games, Recap

The video actually started before the Games. I watched myself in the Training Centre, stealing Cato's knife, then Thresh's silent wonder at my song. I could barely watch the little time I'd spent with Katniss, but I made myself watch her die. Sorry Katniss, sorry Marvel, sorry Katniss. With all God's mercy, it still hurts.

The big screen showed all the time I spent by Katniss as she died. Weeping for my friend, from another District. Honouring her before the nation, with a song of all our suffering and hope.

...All my trials, Lord, soon be over...

For the first time I saw Thresh drive his spear into Cato's back. Cato twisted away, their spears clashed, but Thresh pushed through to cut him above the eye. Then Cato went for his sword. Poor Thresh got cut twice, before blood ran into Cato's eye. In a second, Thresh had ducked into the blind spot, punched him to the ground and kicked the sword aside. It took my breath away how strong and smart he was. But he'd been fixed to the end on such miserable things as fighting and self-sacrifice. He'd done what he ought with his strength, but he could've done so much more.

Then the fight was over. Thresh was carrying me back to the cave by the river, where Peeta lay ill–I had to watch, but I could hardly bear it, my heart was in my throat. On the giant screen, Thresh went into the cave with the backpack for Twelve, the medicine. Poor Peeta was half-conscious, muttering and pale. Thresh emptied the backpack. It was full of food. There'd never been any medicine at the Feast.

It hit me like a train. Katniss had died. Peeta had spoken bad about the Capitol in that cave. If she'd lived, the Capitol would have given the Girl on Fire's star-crossed sweetheart all the medicine he could use. But she'd died saving me, so Peeta was doomed to die. Thresh hadn't told me; he'd known I'd feel this pain. Katniss could've saved Peeta. Why'd she died for me?

On the screen, Thresh was looming over Peeta, shaking with what he had to do. He knelt and said the prayer, he was sorry for what he had to do. As he reached a hand for Peeta's mouth, the poor boy's blue eyes flicked open.

Then the camera switched to Clove, still running and wailing through the forest. There were murmurs out there, why hadn't they shown the killing? As for me my heart leapt from the pit to the heavens.

If Thresh had killed Peeta, they'd have shown it. I knew in my heart, like a voice from God, Thresh hadn't killed him. He might've meant to, it would've torn him up that he meant to, but he hadn't done it. Peeta might've even have asked for a quick end, but Thresh would've taken his hand. They'd have prayed together, through the pain, until the Lord took Peeta to his rest at last. I'd never see it, but I knew. So did Mrs Seeder.

I was just a little girl, so the Capitol let me have my song. But they couldn't ever show how Peeta died in peace, and let the Districts see how they could love and forgive. He'd beat them, like he wanted.

I couldn't watch Thresh die at all. But everyone saw the ending. I'm sorry Foxface. I'm sorry Lord‒but He'd worked things right. They couldn't possibly cut the final death of the Games, when I reached out a bloody hand to the girl who'd stabbed me. Forgiving her in front of the nation, and if they killed me for it I wouldn't be sorry.

74th Hunger Games, Crowning

The Games truly hadn't gone how they were meant to. I surely couldn't see no joy when I had to look in the President's thin eyes. Had to smell his breath, too. I wondered if he was ever a bit happier. Most of Eleven feared him more than the Lord. But if even the President wasn't happy, who in the nation ought to be?

"An attractive pin." He whispered to me, "Be careful with it."

I forgot to say, I had to stand on a chair. The President wasn't about to kneel for anyone.

With more clapping and such, he placed the Victor's crown on my head. It was light, but cold, and so were his eyes. Like a snake considering whether to swallow me up.

74th Hunger Games, Final Interview

Finally, I brushed my new dress underneath me, and sat down opposite Caesar Flickermann. After everything, my heart was in my mouth.

"So, Rue. How did that moment feel, when you became a Victor?"

"Well…lonesome. My friends were all dead. If one of them could've lived, I'd rather have died."

Some of them cooed, some actually laughed. So deaf, my truest feelings didn't mean a thing.

"Well, better a dead friend than a live enemy. Tell us about your alliance with Katniss Everdeen," I happily told them how brave and kind she was, how loving to volunteer for her sister‒ "Yes, her sister. Tell me, Rue, if Katniss had lived to the end, do you think she would've died for you, or gone home to support the sister she volunteered for?"

"She would've killed me, and gone home to Prim," Gasps of shock from the crowd; I was smiling as if killing me were what I loved about Katniss the most, "and I'd have forgiven her."

(Inside, my heart was howling. Prim or me, was never, never a choice Katniss should've had to make).

"What about Thresh?" Caesar murmured calmly, "Do you forgive him killing Peeta?"

Thresh never killed Peeta. But they'd kill me before I could say they'd lied about their own Game.

"He did wrong. That's why he needed forgiving. I'd pray his folks can forgive one day…but I forgive him, because the Lord forgives us all, when we repent."

"Forgiveness for murder?" Caesar chortled, "Jolly useful for the Hunger Games!"

"Why? It killed Foxface." The laughter stopped. "You can't have forgiveness or love from either God or people, without truly facing how you've done them wrong. Thresh felt for every wrong he did, even killing Cato. When I gave her my hand Foxface saw she'd sinned; but it was easier for her to die than face it…poor girl."

"My. So with a few words of prayer, Thresh is forgiven, and the girl who saved you with her death condemned? To eternal torment, as the ancient records of your religion indicate?"

"Yes…but Thresh was saved, him and Peeta, because they knew God! He wants to save you‒!"

"Like he saved Peeta and Thresh, or Foxface? They might have won the Hunger Games, wouldn't you say? But guilt and weakness made them losers. Christianity …it's quite clear why it was discarded several hundred years ago.

"Only, you survived didn't you Rue? You had to kill a boy, but you lived. Have you asked your God forgiveness for that?"

Caesar's grin was vicious, white as a cat-mutt. I was hot, panicking, striving for words to tell them how Jesus even died for them. How his forgiveness and love were worth every pain of sorrow. How they needed him most of all, in their riches, because we were children, not pictures on a screen, and killing us was wrong.

But they were blind, they couldn't see. They just wanted twenty-three selfish, suicidal losers. And a Victor so wicked under her sweetness that her District deserved all it ever suffered. I was hot, angry, then I unclenched and smiled sweetly.

"Mr Caesar? I head you want me to sing?"

‒0‒

I stood alone on the edge of the stage, sweating in the lights. All the Capitol folk leaned forward, ready to pity and care for the monster they'd tamed.

I just wished I could see my folks once more, before I did this. I prayed they'd understand. I wished Thresh was here with his bass, Katniss with her beautiful voice. But it was only me, and God had put me here, to stand alone for all of us.

"Back home in Eleven, this is the song we sing for funerals. I'm singing it today since it shows what is it for any Tribute to live and died in the Hunger Games‒this is for all my true friends, and my true friends back home. And I want to thank all my friends‒" The Mockingjay pin shone, my voice grew stronger, "‒that I can stand here tonight, myself. Not alone."

I took a deep breath. Throwing my voice as low as it went, I ground the words out.

You have to go down to the lonesome valley,