CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR;
clipped wings

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( warning: injury detail, brief emetophobia, some violence... and emotions. lots of emotions. )

     Every part of Vesper's body throbs with an alternation between dull aching and shooting pain — either way, she has never felt so beaten down. She casts her mind back to her longest days at work where the skin on her hands would blister, or the nights where her father would come hope wincing through his agonised joints... and she would almost take that over this feeling right now. Adrenaline still simmers through her, but has started declining since the moment she heard Boaz's cannon. The moment she knew they were rid of him, rid of that danger.

Almost all of her weight is leaned on Icarus, who limps alongside her at a pathetic speed, trying to get as much distance between them and the Cornucopia as possible. The swamp water does no favours for them either, the resistance acting like brick walls against their muscles — oh, how Vesper is sick of this place. She detests it.

They finally come to rest by a cypress tree. Icarus slowly crouches down and props Vesper's aching back against the trunk. She winces as he does, her wounds open and still oozing crimson. Now that she rests, her vision swims and distorts in nauseating waves. Her skin feels hot and clammy, her pulse itching inside her skin; she leans sluggishly over to the side and gags as she throws up, another pungent stench amid the blood and sweat to confuse her senses.

     "There goes breakfast," she barely chokes out, her throat throbbing from where Boaz's hands had squeezed around it.

     "We... we've gotta get some food in you," Icarus props her back up, his features strangely strained every other move he makes. "But first... bandages..." The boy reaches a hands, trembling from the feast's aftermath, into his pack and rummages for contents. Out of it he pulls a pristine white roll of bandages, followed by a pack of crackers and thick spare socks. Icarus unrolls the bandages and weaves a strip under her armpit.

     "You ready?" he asks.

     Vesper nods, hissing in pain initially at the contact between the bandage and her wound. She does so with the other wounds, gritting her teeth through it all — it hurts like hell, but she knows it's worth it. The last thing she needs is infection, and she's sure this place is crawling with diseases. Icarus patches up the wound just under her shoulder, the one on the side of her abdomen, and then stops at her collarbone as he is insure how to wrap it up. In the end, he simply tears off some bandage and applies pressure to it to stem the bleeding.

"We've got water," Icarus says in disbelief, showing her a flask from the other pack. "Clean water. Now come on, drink."

He unscrews the cap and lifts it tentatively to her lips. Vesper relishes at the cool, crystal clear liquid that slips down her throat, but then winces as she struggles to swallow. She lets out a cough, hisses in pain again, and falls back against the tree trunk as she watches Icarus take a sip.

"Now eat," he says.

"I can't... I'm..." Vesper's fingertips graze her neck as she tries to focus on his face; is it her or is the swamp spinning?

"Come on Vesper, stay awake!"

For a moment, she hangs onto consciousness, her eyes tiredly falling onto his. "You were brave out there," she murmurs in a rasp. "You... you saved me..." At this Icarus hums, a flicker of bittersweet pride flashing across his face as his hand touches his trouser leg thoughtfully. Vesper finds she can't hang on any longer and her head drops down...

     "Vesper, no! Stay awake, please..."

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She doesn't know how long for, but Vesper steadily skims the fine line between consciousness and unconsciousness like a tightrope — a balancing act she can only master if she really wants to. All she knows is that the Capitol fanfare soon wakes her up, and when she opens her eyes the sky is black, except for a blue holographic image painting the atmosphere. Boaz's face is the first to show up, pointed and mean even there, but now forever gone. It is followed by Huxley's, the gauche boy quite the opposite of the other dead tribute.

     Vesper rolls painfully onto her side, choosing the one that isn't so wounded. She is bound to be black and blue all over. Underneath her the plastic tarp crackles, acting as her sleeping bag and a protective film between her and the swamp. Icarus must have done it for her. He also must have changed her socks, apparently, because she knows they no longer feel soaked through — they almost feel the way she did when Benedict first dressed her for the arena. Back when she had no idea what she was heading into.

     The smell of campfire smoke draws her to the small boy-like shadow crouched near her, belonging to Icarus. Her vision adjusts to the brightness to see him. Icarus appears slightly slumped, and surprisingly ill. Vesper watches his fingers cautiously reach for his trouser leg and roll it up. There is a soaked bandage wrapped around his calf that he must have applied himself. But he rolls that down too, checking on something.

     That's when she notices it — the two puncture wounds, surrounded by swelling.

     Panic snaps through her like dynamite. "When did you get that?"

     Icarus whirls his head up to look at her, clearly thinking she was still asleep. He pulls his trouser leg promptly back down and starts changing the subject. "Thank God you're awake," he says, "You've been in and out for hours. I didn't know whether to wake you or—"

     "When... did you get that?"

He swallows thickly. "... At the Cornucopia, at the feast."

Vesper sits up, shuffling over to him and looking at his bandaged calf again — almost willing it to disappear. They stay like this, silent for a few moments, before she asks in a raspy whisper: "... Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't wanna worry you. You were all beaten up and I wanted to take care of you," Icarus replies sadly. "Besides... it's not like there's much we can do about it. You know those little vials, at the Cornucopia with the packs? They were anti-venom. Hero took the last one. And, I don't know, I guess I kind of... slipped... and it got me. I got too close."

     She stares vacantly at his calf. No, she thinks. This can't be it. This can't be how it ends.

     "Maybe... they're not deadly?" Vesper says, aware of the naivety. "Not all snake bites are so bad, right?"

     "Yeah. Maybe," Icarus lies back.

     "How're you feeling?"

     "I don't know... it only hurt a little when I first got bit. But now, my head hurts. And my stomach. And I feel kinda... spaced out. Does that make sense?"

     Vesper holds a hand to his forehead, then retracts it immediately. "You're burning up," she says gravely.

     "I am?" he says.

     This is not good.

Trying to stay as steady as possible, she places a hand on his shoulder. "Get some rest, and I'll watch you. Maybe you'll feel better in the morning."

"But what about you—"

"I'll be fine," she insists. She should probably try staying awake, anyway. In spite of her aching body, she lays out an extra tarp for Icarus right next to her, and makes sure he gets comfortable there. Vesper doesn't have a clue what to do with his bitten leg — should they elevate it, leave it flat? The best she can think of is rolling up his trousers, so they are less constricting around the wound.

"Well," Icarus croaks weakly, "see you tomorrow, I guess."

She nods hopefully. "See you tomorrow."

Vesper watches him like a hawk.

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The sun rises the next morning, but neither of them see it for being obscured by cloud — it cloaks the swamp in an ominous greyness. Vesper is half-awake already, admittedly drifting off at some point during the night, but now the frogs and crickets have brought her back once more. The air feels tight, like something might happen today... but what? Even with the swamp's chorus, everything feels so still. So undisturbed.

So when Claudius Templesmith's voice suddenly shatters the atmosphere for a second morning in a row, she almost jumps out of her skin.

"Attention all tributes," he announces. "For those of you who made it to the Cornucopia, you may have noticed the various... obstacles we placed in your path. Indeed, some of you in particular failed to grasp the all-important cure to the bite, which would have secured your standing in this game. However, you have one more chance."

Vesper sits up straight, all ears for the surprise announcement.

"A single vial of anti-venom was planted into the Cornucopia this morning — and there is more than one of you after it. So please, ask yourself: are you prepared to risk the journey? We will be waiting..."

     Instinctively, her gaze shifts to Icarus curled up so still on the tarp. They have a chance — they could get there. Vesper knows it would be like another feast, the very event that rendered her much weaker than before. It is certainly an unconventional choice on the Gamemakers' part, although not out of character. But if it keeps Icarus alive, she will take anything she can get at this point.

     "Hey, Icarus, wake up..." she nudges his shoulder, only shifting his body like a heavy lump. He doesn't wake. Vesper pauses, then shakes his shoulder again. "... Icarus?"

     Still nothing.

     A horrible thought occurs to her. No, she reminds herself, you would've heard the cannon.

     Nevertheless, she panics and shakes him harder.

     "Icarus? Icarus, hey, wake up. Icarus!"

     A tired grumble slips past his lips, and she knows she has never felt more relieved. His eyes are still closed, as if he wants to keep sleeping, but he still turns his head in the direction of her voice. "Did you hear the announcement?" she asks him. When the boy shakes his head, Vesper replies, "They've got anti-venom at the Cornucopia... for your bite. If we get moving, we can cure your bite."

     "We're going back... again?" he croaks.

     "I know, it's not ideal. But we're not as far away from the Cornucopia this time. All we have to do is get the anti-venom and go."

     That was the plan last time, and look what happened, she taunts herself.

     Vesper turns her back to Icarus as he rubs his eyes tiredly. She begins scooping up their supplies, packing rolls of bandages in backpacks and securing food to their bag. They still have some water left and plenty of crackers, which is a relief after all the frogs — she can't stomach it this morning though, for her throat still hurts. It is difficult (and painful) to swallow. While she focuses on packing, Icarus's voice timidly calls her name from behind:

     "... Vesper?"

     "Yeah?"

     "I can't see anything."

     A beat passes. Vesper stops, thinks, and turns to him looking perplexed. Icarus is sat up now, staring straight ahead and seeming paralysed with realisation. "What do you mean?" she asks slowly.

     "I can't... see anything," he whispers. "It's gone all dark, but– but my eyes are open... they're open, aren't they?"

     Vesper slowly approaches him, holding her breath. Now that she is crouched in front of him, looking into his eyes, she can see it — a very thin translucent sheen across his pupils. Like mist over his vision. From far away she couldn't see it, but the thin veil she sees up close sends a chill down her spine. The venom must have blinded him. It takes her a few moments to process, perhaps the permanence of this, before she wakes up to what needs to be done.

     "I'm here, I'm right here," she tells him, clinging onto his shoulders so he knows. His hands find her arms and grip them like a vice. "Do you... do you feel anything else? Since last night?"

"It's... it's just numb..."

The anti-venom, a beacon of hope, grows fainter and fainter in her mind — but Vesper will not stop reaching if she can help it. She had no idea how, but she has to get Icarus there. "Okay, here's what we're gonna do," she says quietly. "You're gonna hold onto me, and we can take it slow... we're not so far away, we can get there. Just don't let go."

Icarus initially grabs onto her backpack strap, but then she moves his hand down to the bottom of her shirt; Vesper balls it into his fist and wraps his fingers around it tightly. Just like she used to do with her father — how he would insist on not letting her out of his sight, and the little girl would grab on so tightly she never thought they'd be parted.

"No, I need to feel you," she explains to Icarus firmly. "I need to know that I haven't lost you... that you're still there."

The boy nods, understanding now, and continues holding her shirt like this until she thinks of a better idea. She unthreads the rope from one of their backpacks and ties it between them like adjoining handcuffs. That way, he can never stray far, even if she has to let go.

With time slipping through their fingers, they begin the journey back to the Cornucopia. Vesper can feel Icarus gradually being weighed down, always lagging slightly behind her — every other minute her head whirls around to check on his state. He slowly wilts like a dying flower, losing his colour and vibrance with every second that goes by. His steps are laboured and sporadic, and she tries to plant hers carefully so he can follow them with his remaining senses. Meanwhile, above them the sky darkens, not with night but with cloud, turning into a dark charcoal grey. Rain perhaps? She can hope so if it means water, but they seem much darker than the other rare rainy skies of the arena. A storm may be on its way...

Wading through the swamp water, the pair reach a fallen branch arching in and out of the algae-covered surface. Any other path around it is blocked. They will have to swim underneath. Vesper lifts up the branch, giving Icarus a larger way to go through. "On the count of three, you're gonna have to hold your breath, and you'll only be underwater for just a sec, okay?" she explains. Icarus closes his eyes and nods, and on three, she leads him under the water and over to the other side of the branch. Vesper then ducks under herself, seeing the murky waters underneath for a moment before she re-emerges.

When she stands to her full height again and tries to tug Icarus along, he slumps and stays on his knees.

"I'm tired..." he mumbles, "I wanna go to sleep..."

"No," Vesper snaps. "You have to stay awake, okay? You have to fight it off."

"I don't think I can walk..."

She agrees. Having Icarus walk is slowing them down. Quickly leaning into a solution, Vesper transfers the contents of the other backpack into her own, then discards the leftover bag. She slings the bulky bag onto her chest, while she loads Icarus onto her in a piggyback — wincing as she remembers her wounds once more. Her knuckles whiten over his arms, which are wrapped around her front, like they are her lifeline.

All of a sudden, Icarus murmurs, "D'you remember the day before the Reaping? When we skipped stones across the lake, and we had to hitchhike home?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I remember it."

"That was such a good day..."

And that is all he has to say. Vesper finds that tears suddenly prickle her eyes, but she frantically blinks them away as she perseveres to keep walking. She thinks he is starting to let go — maybe Icarus is already accepting what might well happen, but she just can't. She will not believe it until she sees it. If anything, the memory of that day brings back others, some old and some new. Vesper thinks of how intertwined her life has become with his — how she now sees him as her brother, without a shadow of a doubt. And how it will hurt even more if she doesn't make it... if she fails him. Suddenly she finds herself in the Justice Building back home, talking to Axel:

   "Don't."

"Don't what?"

"Make promises you can't keep."

Maybe he knew this would happen. Vesper refuses to believe it. Even if it stares her right in the face, she rejects it with all her might. If only she had protected Icarus better at the feast, then maybe they wouldn't be here now...

A drop of water hits her skin. Then another, on the tip of her nose. One on her shoulder, her finger, her forehead. Soon a cascade of torrential rain is hammering down on the swamp from blackened skies — all the heavens opening up to them right now. The sheer roar of the rainfall disorients Vesper, so used to a different soundscape that it confuses her senses and her battered body. Now she can't see anything either through the thick rain.

     Suddenly, a loud rumble of thunder crunches the clouds above them. Not long after, the first fork of lightning hits the swamp.

     Vesper lets out a shocked yelp, Icarus slipping from her grip slightly. She feels his feet splash and thud onto the swamp bed behind her. Above, the clouds churn with flashing light, ready to strike at any given moment. "We've gotta go– run, just RUN!" she yells, grabbing Icarus's hand and dragging him along. At first they only get a few steps before he collapses, completely weakened. Vesper bends down and hooks his arm over her shoulders, hobbling along with the boy at her side as lightning starts striking left and right. You have to get there, she chants to herself.

You have to get there.

You have to get there.

You have to get there.

A rod of lightning suddenly strikes a branch from above, and it comes tumbling down on them. "LOOK OUT!" Vesper cries. She shoves Icarus to the side and staggers back, the branch landing between them and splitting their bond. Hitting the ground with so much force has her aching all over again, her wounds opening up once more. Above her, Vesper sees the lightning cease... she hopes it has finally stopped spitting the sparks onto the swamp. The ends of the fallen branch are singed, smoke rising as the rain dampens what could have turned into a bigger inferno. She starts trying to get up, expecting to see Icarus on the other side — except she finds empty mud instead. Her heart stops.

     Where is he?

     Panic strangles her as Vesper cries out, "Icarus!" through the still-waging storm. She can't see him through all the rain, can't hear him over the thunder. Where could he have gone? She stands spinning around in the rain, her hands held to her head desperately.

     She is only lucky that she narrowly misses the flying arrow.

     It flies somewhere past her, but still, she missed. Seeing Hero's silhouette wielding a bow and arrow through the rain, Vesper ducks from (presumably Hero's) next hit by catching her arrow with her backpack — aside from that, she has no strength to fight back. Her body is stapled to the ground, her sword too much effort to reach in her sheath. She anticipates another arrow, but instead sees another silhouette. Broader, taller, stronger. She thinks it belongs to Talon — if so, it would be the first time she has seen him in the arena. The sight of him is enough to drive Hero away, and they run off to pursue their own battle in the storm. Vesper rolls onto her side, looking frantically for Icarus, the one she is supposed to protect, the one she promised to bring home, who doesn't have much time left—

     Vesper's gaze falls and freezes.

     She has found Icarus.

     And in the same place, she finds where the first arrow went.

     Vesper feels like she has been shot. She doesn't hear herself scream, but inside she falls apart. Her heart has suddenly been ripped to shreds, and the rain is going to wash it all away.

He looks down at his stomach, where an arrow has buried itself, and feels with his hand for it before calmly removing it. Vesper then watches him sink to his knees, and then onto his back. The rain has slowed to a lighter pitter-patter but still batters them both — across the dampening mud, Vesper drags her body over to him, fingers digging into the earth with every last fibre of strength she has.

"Icarus! No, no, no..." she cries out once she reaches him.

"I think... I got hit..." he rasps between shallow breaths.

Instantly, she scoops him up in her arms, knelt down and cradling him like a small child. Her other hand goes to cup his head and hold it closer to her.

"Icarus, talk to me, please," she chokes out. "Please!"

"It's... cold..."

Vesper can feel her vision blurring with tears, but she blinks them furiously away again — she cannot stop looking at him. She grips him tighter, so every part of him can feel her, even if he can't see her. Can Icarus even feel that anymore? She is taken back to the memory he spoke of earlier — his calm, careful composure as he skipped a flat stone across the water back in District Six. Then his bright, cheerful grin on the train for Reaping Day as they played I Spy. His bravery every minute, every second since his name was drawn...

"I'm so sorry, I– I tried, I really did, but I couldn't..." Vesper coughs out a sob. If it wasn't for the arrow, it would have been the venom. "Please, just hang on, okay?"

"Vesper..."

"Yeah?"

Icarus's eyes, although blinded, are fixed on a point up in the stormy sky — somehow they are streaked with peaceful wonder, and his lips even quirk at the sight.

"I can see... the stars..." he whispers. "They're so... bright..."

His breath suddenly hitches, struggling to draw the next. The next ones come in small, shallow gasps, and Vesper knows what is coming even as his chest goes still. "Icarus, no, you have to stay with me... stay with me..." she demands, almost angrily at first. Then they turn into strangled sobs, her strength crumbling. "Just fight it, just– just don't go, please, I can't... Icarus..."

Icarus gains his wings with his eyes open, still looking up at the sky in awe.

His cannon fires.

And that's when it truly hits her with no mercy.

All of her pent-up agony, everything she had ever hidden away, unravels violently all at once. Vesper doesn't just sob... she howls. Barely able to draw breath between tears, she holds Icarus's head to her chest, rocking back and forth with him as if to comfort them both. She splinters at the edges, her emotions sharp and raw and felt more deeply than ever before — and all because Icarus Brunel is gone. In the pouring rain she holds him, cries endlessly, everything flooding out of her like a burst dam.

Her mind isn't entirely in the right place, but she knows that after a while she senses another presence above them — the hovercraft, she realises, waiting to take him. Vesper refuses to let him go at first. But eventually she is left with no choice. And also, she realises, she would hate to be there to see him... taken away. So through her weakening sobs, she brushes her fingertips over his eyelids to shut them; leaving him in a peaceful-looking slumber. Then she lays him to rest on the mud, the hovercraft's breeze fanning out a clearing for him in the earth.

     She looks at him, just once more. Then she turns away.

     Vesper struggles to get to her feet. When she does, she only manages a few steps before her knees buckle inwards; she plummets to the ground with a hard thud. The last thing she sees is the outline of what looks like a hand, scooping Icarus up like a gentle feather... and then her world is swallowed by black.

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A/N;

i don't even know what to say right now. i've been dreading this chapter since the very beginning, always knowing this moment would come, but now it's here. all i can say is that however much you struggled reading this chapter, i struggled just as much writing it. grappling with how to handle icarus dying has been incredibly difficult, and i'm still scared/conflicted over whether i gave him the right send-off, but this is ultimately what it came to in the end. but when i tell you how NERVOUS i was about publishing this chapter—

also, if you wanted to cry even harder, at the top the song "a final sacrifice" by luke richards is the one playing when icarus dies... i listened to it whilst writing this and definitely cried more than once imagining it.

hope you guys are doing okay?? in spite of this?? i'm hoping to get chapter 25 up soon after this one, it's supposed to be short and sweet, but it might be my favourite chapter of the whole book...

[ published: 12th october, 2022 ]

— Imogen