The explosion goes off, nothing grand on the scale of the Capitol or even the rebels but for one single figure it's huge. It happens fast, not time to process it, not the sound, not the heat, not the flight that comes over sure as his body is sent back.

In some other world, this is it. The moment he goes from one to two. The moment he ends and begins. But he's got no care for that. He just wants the end. The threads, mercifully, will keep him from screaming.

He's dead. He's dead, he's finally dead, the game is finally fucking over. He hears ringing, but that will fade. He feels pain, but it will go. He'll be numb and empty. Only, with no god to greet him this time, having given all up for Panem.

He thinks he hears a scream. He thinks he hears his name. He thinks he feels someone wrapped around his corpse and a whispering voice in his ear, a laugh all amused, not thith time, KZ. Not your time.

His Helmet's been blown off. He can feel some of the armor on him has melted right onto his skin. It's burned, burning still. He should've died before he felt a thing. Is this what hell was meant to be? Why then was Derek here? And Meulin, he can see her, his eyes opening to the uncertain scene, the fire, her. No goodnights to sweet princes.

A burned hand reaches up to touch his imprisoner.