FIGHTING FIRE | The Capitol Games

I. The Peace Offering

A/N: Hello all! Welcome to Fighting Fire: The Capitol Games!

If you're really old, you might remember this story. I penned its first draft in 2011 and posted it on Fanfiction.Net in 2013 under the title "Fighting Fire". I have rewritten it and decided to post it here. If you're a multiplatform reader, you might have also seen this draft on AO3, FFN, and in the Hunger Games Amino.

This fic will follow a scenario of what might have happened if Katniss had never killed President Coin at the end of Mockingjay. I will update three times a week for the first month (to get you guys caught up to speed with the AO3, FFN, and Amino readers).

I'm so excited to share this adventure and mystery with you! Enjoy the read and let me know what you think.

May the odds be ever in your favor!

-

A fourteen-year-old girl lay on a cot in a grey room. Her name was not Katniss Everdeen, so she would not leave the Hunger Games alive.

It wasn't nice here, though it would be churlish to expect so. The walls were familiar. The girl had visited this place before, back when the paint was bright, and her small hand still fit contently inside the guidance of her father's. A childhood tour of the remodeled tributes' Training Center. But in between the rebels' invasion and now, the walls were hastily painted over with industrial grey, leaving streaks of the original yellow near the corners and floor. The luxurious bed was removed to make room for the steel-grated cot; even the plush carpet had been ripped out, leaving behind the icy concrete floor. A deliberate move, meant to make her feel like a prisoner inside a tower once lauded with hope, glory, and fame.

Only the door was upgraded, the girl remarked to herself. Two locks on it now. Pity the locks were on the outside.

Footsteps sounded outside the door and the girl sat upright. When the door opened, it was about what she expected — two soldiers with guns and Katniss Everdeen herself. The girl on the cot regarded Katniss with hungry eyes. The Mockingjay was dressed much like the soldiers except for her signature quiver of arrows, their white fletching standing out against her black bulletproof vest.

The soldiers moved to the back of the room, but Katniss stayed to hold open the door as a fourth figure followed. President Alma Coin stepped inside the makeshift cell, her pressed grey suit almost blending into the surrounding walls. Calmly, Coin reached for the only other furniture in the room, a cold metal chair. She sat across from the girl on the cot.

"Themis Gossamer?" Coin asked. "I assume that's the name you prefer."

The girl on the cot said nothing. Just stared.

Coin smiled. "A pleasure." Still nothing, so Coin folded her legs and her hands over them. "You did give us a good chase around Panem. Your father would be proud. But I'm afraid that your little game is over."

"You want to scare me," Themis said.

They wouldn't have brought Katniss if that wasn't the intent. A ghost of some emotion — Themis couldn't tell which — flickered across Coin's face. Then she smiled again, a rubbery smile.

"You're a smart girl, Themis," Coin said. "I think you already know why you're here, and it's not so I can deliver some intimidating speech. But if you're not sure, don't feel ashamed to ask."

Themis fell silent again. The room was as cold as the early May morning outside, and she was thin and naked underneath the thin cotton shirt and pants that they had dressed her in, but she didn't dare hug herself like she wanted to. She just committed to staring back at Coin, her chapped lips closed.

Coin was a patient woman, as she so often gloated in the newscasts that Themis had seen, and waited for Themis' response for a good few minutes. But Themis didn't give in. Finally, Coin sighed, clearly unsure how to handle the situation.

"What do you think you were running from?" she asked.

"You're going to kill me," Themis whispered.

A new smile twitched at the corner of Coin's mouth. "No."

She glanced up at the ceiling, and instinctively Themis looked up as well. The white ceiling was plastered with graffiti, left by rebels when this building was overtaken as a temporary base, just like the walls had been before both Capitol and rebel colors were splashed over with grey. But the vandalized ceiling had been untouched because there, in the center, was the bold black stencil of a mockingjay.

"You're here," said Coin, "for a second chance. In accordance with your father's will and testament, rewritten after your escape, you are not to be executed alongside him. Instead of dooming you to such an immediate fate, your father agreed to enter you into what we are calling the Last Games — a final, symbolic Hunger Games held with the children of Capitolites. If you win, we guarantee you the same immunity of a normal Hunger Games victor, and we will give you whatever support you desire to start a new life."

Themis looked over to the door, where Katniss Everdeen was still standing. Katniss' gaze was downturned, not at anything in particular, but that was the tell.

"How can I believe you'll protect me?" said Themis.

Katniss flinched almost imperceptibly, but Coin didn't move.

"It would be nice, but you don't need to," said Coin. "If you would not like to participate, let me know, and we will have your execution scheduled for later this week."

Themis didn't respond. She just looked down at the swirling silver carvings on her forearms, resisting the urge to trace her fingers over them. She knew arguing was useless, so she closed her eyes. Her head hurt again.

"I agree to participate," she murmured. "I'm going to die anyway."

A childish response, but it would do. Coin nodded. "Thank you," she replied. "But I wouldn't declare defeat quite yet. You're the last tribute we could find, and you're the only one who has already killed someone."

She stood, prompting Katniss and the guards to straighten as well.

"It's been a pleasure meeting you, Themis," said Coin. Then she and her entourage left, locking the doors behind her, and leaving the girl on the cot with nothing to do but look at the ceiling again.