Light the Way

Twenty Six

Death always seemed to leave Coriolanus feeling funny, a form of emptiness that didn't bring forth tears but a grumbling stomach. He tried to drink as much water as he could on the ride back home, chugging back cups of it in hopes of calming the raging storm brewing inside of his stomach. Food never got to him though, and he was thankful the peacekeepers accompanying them didn't offer him anything. If anything were to touch his lips right now, he'd vomit.

Coriolanus and Olivia sat shoulder to shoulder, jostling in line with the train as it veered back towards the Capitol. The trees seemed to move even slower than on the way there, and he prayed they weren't being secretly sent someplace else other than home. The buzz of the conversation behind them filled his hears, and their current stench filled his nose. They reeked of blood and ash that was Three. Factory smoke clung to their clothes and soot to their skin. And blood. The Mayor's blood. It coated his jacket and slacks, having splattered all over him when the general blew his head off.

A soft hand pulled him out of his thoughts. Olivia offered him a handkerchief, dampened with some of their drinking water and a small smile.

"May I?" She asked, gesturing towards his face. All he could do was nod in response, leaning forward a bit so she'd be able to wipe his face. His stomach gargled at the movement and he willed himself to hold down whatever was left inside of him.

She dabbed his face softly, careful to avoid the part of his jaw still bruised from that night at the club. Once finished, he took the cloth from her and did the same, his fingers lightly tapping against her skin, the blood and ash mixing together to form something horrid. The remnants of District Three.

He so badly wanted to wrap his arms around her, to pull her in close and will the violence of Three from his memory forever. But he couldn't. His arms were weak and his heart beating much too fast to be the person offering comfort. Instead, he slumped back and tried to stretch out his legs, not bothering to close his eyes as sleep would never reach him. Not until he was home.

A small hand reached into his, soft and warm. Squeezing. Offering comfort.

He felt even sicker. 

How weak he must look. 

Body practically trembling and stomach growling like that little boy he used to be, yearning for cans of paste. Anything to satiate the rumbles. 

"Don't push me away. Not now. Not after all of this." Olivia's voice came out quiet, yet stern, yanking his attention away from his own faults and staring right up at her.

"You save me. And I save you. Got it?" Her voice unwavering. Her green eyes leaving no room for disagreement.

"You watched him get shot so I didn't have to. I owe you, alright?" She argued, squeezing his hand again.

All he could do was nod. He squeezed her hand back, letting the adrenaline finally wash out of him.

You save me. I save you. The words repeated in his mind. So simple. Such an easy compromise to make, even for him.

He squeezed her hand again, lacing their fingers together. Hoping his voice didn't stutter and pitch when he spoke next.

"Deal." He managed to get out, sneaking a glance at her to see if she was just lying to appease him. Trying to make him relax so he wouldn't throw up all over her. Olivia's face didn't falter, she didn't look annoyed or repulsed by his show of emotion. She was working hard to mask her own feelings, trying not to shrink back into her seat and tuck her legs against her chest, like when the bombs were falling all around her. They were two of the same. Troubled, but too proud to let it sink it. It would wash away tonight, when they showered and the blood and the soot went down the drain. They would come out clean, anew, and alive. Unlike the rebels.