He's anxious on the day of the Reaping. He knows there's no reason to be; there's little to no chance he'll get drawn. In fact, Reaping day is the only day he knows for certain the other children won't pick on him. There are too many officials around to risk getting caught.
But it's been a hard year. His mother died early on in the year, and at the same time, his father's work slipped. He's had to take out a tessera – only one, but still enough to make him nervous. His hands shake, and he struggles to pick out the best clothing; this was always something his mum did.
At 15 years old, he should be old enough to get along well enough without his mum, but they'd always been very close, another reason his peers gave for his teasing.
It's all too soon that he's trying his hardest to blend into the crowd and stop his hands shaking. They might not have the most children in district 5, but they had enough that the odds were, in fact, in his favor.
He's busy figuring the possibilities and statistics in his head when the girl gets called up. Her name's Jemma Simmons. He doesn't know her all that well, but he does take notice of her long enough to see that she looks like a deer in headlights, her terrified eyes pleading with everyone to help her while the rest of her tries to remain composed.
Then they call the boy's name.
He's not sure if he heard right. Everyone's looking around and muttering. The people around him are staring at him and he knows he's misheard. He had to.
Swann Allardyce, the district 5 escort, reads out "Leo Fitz" again, and he hears it clear as day.
He begins to move slowly forward, and Swann gestures for him to come closer.
"The tributes of the 56th Hunger Games, everyone!" she cries out with enthusiasm. "Now shake hands," she says a bit quieter. He turns to the girl, who hesitantly holds out her hand, and he shakes it. This seems to please the easily excited Swann. "May the odds be ever in your favor!"
He doesn't talk to the girl on the way to the main hall, the place where they'll be saying their final goodbyes. She'll either end up killing him or dying, and he doesn't want to entertain either of those possibilities with someone he knows, so he decides that he won't know her.
He can hear that people come to say goodbye to her, and he's not surprised when no one comes to see him off.
…
District 5, known for its production of power, has a fair number of victors to train them. In general, they won through their smarts instead of brutish tendencies, aside from one woman who looks like she could break his neck right there. There are 4 of them, three women and a man.
The first woman, a small, wiry person who doesn't give off the air of being particularly special, gives them a quick run down of what they're to do. "Wave and smile," she says. "The Capitol likes friendly people."
Then they leave him alone with his female counterpart. He can hear the motors of the train, trying to focus on them and not look at her. He puzzles through how he could improve their efficiency and make them even quieter. It's not really his specialty, though, having not grown up in district 6.
"I'm Jemma," she offers.
"Fitz," he replies absently.
She tries to smile, but it doesn't even fully reach her lips. "Bit of an odd name."
"Leo," he corrects. "But most call me Fitz."
"Oh," she says, and he watches her shrink back into her chair. "Alright then, Fitz. Would you like to be allies?"
"I'm going to die," he states simply, and she doesn't correct him.
There's a small pause before she says, "Me too."
…
The next day they watch the other reapings. In District 1, two beaming, tall, and frightening competitors volunteer. The girl is called Laurette, and she easily stands at the arm of Galahad, both with muscles about the size of Leo's face.
District 2 has a volunteer girl who looks determined, giving off a brilliant smile. The boy is more quiet, certainly not smiling, and Leo can't really tell whether he's happy to be up there or not, but he did volunteer for the other boy. The boy's name is Grant Ward, and he doesn't catch the girl's name.
District 3 shows an immediate decline in smiling faces. The girl's name is Skye, and she seems to be trying to make herself smaller and doesn't take her eyes from the floor. No one offers to go up in her place. The boy's name is Miles.
The people in District 4 have an athletic build, but neither looks at all happy to be up there. They're introduced as Merope Roxen and Hadrian Elestren.
Leo walks out into the hallway when District 5 starts. Jemma joins him. She squeezes his hand in a gesture of comfort. He doesn't push her away.
When they get back into the room, District 7 has already started. Thalia Norlenth, a tall dark-haired girl who looks nearly old enough to be unable to be chosen, steps forward with a look of shock, and so does Crucis Naysmith, a boy who just barely looks twelve.
A brother and sister get called in District 10, but Leo keeps a steady gaze on his feet instead of identifying them. He doesn't want to know these people. They're going to kill him, and they're going to die.
He refuses to look up all the way through District 12.
…
He should be thrilled by the bounteous amounts of food piled onto the table come dinnertime, but he feels like he's going to throw up again. He excuses himself almost immediately.
It's not until later in the night, when he's hungry and alone and tired, that he wishes he had stayed out in the light of the rest of the train for a while longer. He tries to sleep, but every time he closes his eyes he sees himself dead, dying, or killing, and he can't even tell which. There's just so much blood, and he's covered in it. He thinks it might be Jemma's.
The next day they arrive at the Capitol. He looks at the shiny city powered by the relentless work of the districts. He wishes he could hate it, but he envies it.
…
It will take another day for the last of the districts to arrive in the Capitol, so they have a day to spend.
He's caught between wanting to spend his last day of relative freedom doing something and being not motivated to do a thing. Besides, they aren't given many options for what to do.
He ends up talking to Jemma.
It's an accident, really. She follows him to his room after breakfast, her steps so light that he doesn't expect to see her when he turns around and lets out a small noise of surprise when he does.
She looks guilty. "Sorry," she says, "I only meant to talk about strategy, but if you don't want to - "
"It's fine," he says, then rethinks that answer. "Strategy?"
"For the Game. We will be working together, won't we?"
"I guess, if you want. I won't be much help."
She shrugs. "It's still better with two than one. Easier to occasionally get some rest, and I'm sure you've more strengths than you're letting on."
He shakes his head. "What you see is really what you get. I can build things, but it's not like I'll be having much in the way of supplies anyway."
"Well, we don't know what type of arena we're getting yet, but certainly, I wouldn't count on getting those sorts of tools." She sighs. "I won't be any more useful, I assure you. My strengths lie in biochemistry, but I promised my mum I would try to win. I won't, but I would like to try."
"She the one who came to see you off, then?"
"Yes, her and my dad. Why, didn't anyone come to see you off?"
He shakes his head. "My mum died earlier in the year. I had to take out a tessera 'cause my dad was having some troubles. Still is. I think that's why I was picked."
"Oh," she says, then sits down on his bed. He seats himself next to her. "Would you like to win, then? To make sure that he'll be provided for?" She pauses for a moment, then adds, "I've never taken out any tesserae, and I was still chosen, though, so it may not even have anything to do with it. It certainly wouldn't increase the odds of your being reaped in any significant way."
He smiles. "Yeah, that's what I kept telling myself." He looks at his knuckles. The skin on them is still pink, and he remembers the feeling of the bottle smashed against them. No, his father doesn't deserve any of his winnings, should he get them.
He decides he's rooting for Jemma. Her family loves her, and he'd really like to be the one who gets her back to them.
…
For the rest of the day, they do end up going over strategies for the arena. The previous victors tell them how they won. Leo comes out knowing the importance of survival skills. The chances are actually pretty fair that he could learn those.
Then it comes time to get styled and go down the pathway in their district's chariot. He hates being laid out in front of these people, especially since they keep reaching over at picking at him.
They end up dressed in something shiny and silver, symbolizing their district's specialty, power. They make sure to remember to wave and smile at the people of the Capitol, who are somehow dressed even more strangely than they are, with all of their bright colors that nearly glow in the dark. Jemma waves and smiles better than he does, but he sees her fiddling nervously with her clothes once the chariot is stopped.
Leo tries to take a close-up look at some of the other tributes. District 1 and 2 tower over the others with confidence, aside from District 2's boy, who looks solid enough, but there's still something in his eyes that Fitz can't quite name. As he looks out into the later districts, the tributes start to look smaller and more fearful. He hates to think of these people as his competition.
President Snow announces the beginning of the 56th Hunger Games, and they're all dismissed.
…
The three days will be spent training. He and Jemma stay mostly on the survival side of things, making sure they know how to separate poisonous berries from edible ones and know how to find a water source. They work on that until they both think they'll be fairly well-equipped for it.
Then comes lunch. The lunchroom is a small cafeteria, only meant to hold 24 children, and there isn't room for each district to have its own table. Jemma goes before him, and when he's done taking his food, she waves him over to a table shared with the girl from 3 and the boy from 2, who don't seem to be talking to each other.
They sit across from the girl. He can't remember her name but supposes it doesn't really matter. For the first few minutes, they eat in silence, aside from the conversations at other tables.
"I'm Skye," the girl says.
"I'm Jemma, and this is Fitz," Jemma responds. Just then, they're interrupted by loud conversation from a table mainly made up of Careers.
"Isn't that your district's other tribute?" Fitz asks. He can see that the Careers are laughing at or with the boy.
"Yeah," Skye answers, and he turns his eyes back to her. "He said he was going over there to see if he can't get us some more allies."
"Don't trust Careers. They'll stab you in the back. So will Miles," the boy from 2 says.
Skye looks at him challengingly. "Oh? And who should I be getting for allies, then? I suppose you've got a better idea."
"It's better to travel alone than with Careers. They'll pick on anyone they think is weak," he replies simply.
"And you think I'm weak?"
"I think you're certainly under-trained for something like this. There are a lot of things I could show you to help you get better."
"I look forward to it," she says, then gets up to dump her trash and heads back into the training room. The boy's eyes follow her to the training room, then he gets up and follows her.
"Will we be getting any more allies?" He doesn't know that he wants any more, but it certainly would be helpful, he supposes.
Jemma looks at him thoughtfully. "Perhaps we could ask Skye, but I'd really rather be on the other side of the arena from most of these people."
He nods.
…
At the end of their training days, he really doesn't feel any more equipped to kill someone than he was to begin with, but both of them have survival skills that may or may not come in handy, depending on the type of arena they get.
Jemma has somehow managed to get Grant, the boy from 2, to be their ally. He's very strong and physical, the sort of person the Careers would definitely want, so Fitz isn't entirely sure why he's chosen to go with them instead, especially considering their extremely poor scores from the Gamemakers, but he trusts him. Skye has trained with them and Ward the entire time, but she's already promised to go with Miles and the Careers. He hopes he doesn't have to fight her.
He doesn't feel like he's had enough time to mentally or physically prepare for this, but all too soon he's dressing in his clothes for the arena. They're very thin, so he doubts they'll provide much protection from weather or other tributes. The outfit consists of shorts, a t-shirt, a jacket, and solid boot-like shoes, so he guesses that they're going somewhere hot, and probably sandy.
Then he's on the platform over a sandy expanse that seems to go on forever and the countdown is almost over. He tries to run and nearly falls over immediately, not used to the sand that somehow manages to get into his shoes despite the fact that they were built specifically to discourage that.
He runs in the opposite direction of the Cornucopia, trying to stay on the outside and out of everyone's way. He looks around, trying to find Jemma.
Then he spots her. She grabs a pack from the outer rings of the Cornucopia then runs out fast as she can. The girl from District 2 spots Jemma and dashes at her, the sand barely even hindering her movements. She grabs Jemma by the back of her shirt. Leo runs toward her as fast as he can, but then Ward comes up and breaks the girl's neck.
Jemma and Leo meet at the halfway point between them, and then they run until they reach a steep hill. Jemma throws her arm out in front of him to keep them both from tumbling over. He turns back and see the way the sand in the Cornucopia has nearly turned red, then gets down and starts to descend the hill. She does the same. Ward catches up to them in a minute, and they're almost at the bottom. He makes the descent with practiced ease, barely spending thirty seconds on the steep slope.
"There isn't a water source anywhere," Jemma says, her eyes scanning the seemingly endless desert. "No place to hide either."
"What did you get in that bag?" Leo asks.
She opens it as they start walking. "There's a water jug." She shakes it. "It's full, but it won't last us long." She digs deeper into the pack. "There's a blanket, fat lot of good that'll do." Leo agrees with that point; they've hardly gone anywhere, and he's already had to take off his jacket, and he's still sweating. "Oh, and some throwing knives."
"Can I see those?" Ward asks. She nods and hands him the pack. "It can get very cold in the desert at night," he adds. "That's probably the reason for the blanket."
They walk peacefully for the rest of the day, aside from the occasional cannon blasts. Grant heads their group, always standing about a yard in front of Leo and Jemma. They occasionally bring up some conversation, but mostly it stays quiet, since they're all on the lookout for other tributes. Leo's legs are getting tired from all of the walking, and the sand makes it particularly difficult. He tries to ignore how thirsty he manages to get after only a few hours.
As Ward predicted, the second the sun goes down it's like the arena freezes. Their teeth chatter, and they all wrap themselves in their jackets. Jemma gets the blanket out and wraps it around the two of them.
Eventually, they have to settle down for the night. Ward prefers to stay in a place that provides cover, but every part of this arena is equally exposed. They eventually find a hill like the first one and climb down it. They decide that's where they'll set up camp.
They offer Ward his turn with the blanket, but he declines, saying he'll take first watch. Leo lies down in the sand with Jemma, wrapping his arms around her for warmth and throwing the blanket over both of them.
They're woken up by the faces being shown in the sky. Leo counts them. The boy from 1, the girl from 2, both from 4, the girl from 6, the boy from 8, the boy from 11, and both from 12. Nine people dead. That leaves only 15 remaining.
He wonders, not for the first time, how long it will take the others to find them. How many others are going to die before Ward kills them or they have to separate. He doesn't want to leave Jemma's side, but he doesn't want her to have to kill him either. That seems needlessly cruel.
When they wake, the sun is high in the sky already. Ward is asleep at his lookout point. He wakes instantly once they begin shifting and waking up.
"We should stay here for a while," Ward says. "It's probably the closest we're going to get to defensible. I'm going to see if I can't find us some food and maybe a bit of water."
With that, he was off. Leo folds up the blanket and takes off his jacket. Jemma takes off hers as well. He takes it from her and folds them before putting them in the bag.
"Do you think we could really win?" she asks after a moment. She sits against the monumental hill of sand.
"Well, not both of us," he says. "Maybe you."
"I don't think so. Well, I mean, if it was to be either of us, it would be you."
"And why would that be?" he asks, joining her on the ground.
"I'm reckless, and I got a bad score, so I won't get any sponsors. I don't know anything about killing, and I don't think I want to. The only chance I have of winning is if I can stick with you guys, and clearly that part is going to have to end at some point."
"And you think all of that doesn't also apply to me?" he asks, trying to inject a joking tone into his words, but he knows this isn't a joking matter.
"Will we have to split up?" she asks in a small voice.
They're already sitting close, and he wraps an arm around her, bringing her even closer. "Absolutely not. We're a team. We're going to be right beside each other the whole damn time." He feels her nod.
Then there's a shuffling noise from above. Leo looks up, and at the top of the embankment a figure aims a bow directly at them. Miles, the boy from 3, he realizes. He tries to shield Jemma's body with his own. Miles lets the arrow fly.
Leo falls to the ground from the pressure of the arrow. He tries to squirm against the sudden piercing pain in his gut, but that only makes it worse. He looks at Jemma, who is steadily getting more blurry. Tears are welling in her eyes.
"Leo," she chokes. She alternates between trying to stop the bleeding and touching his face. She leans down and presses a gentle kiss to his lips. "Come on, Leo. You're going to be alright. Just stay awake. We're going to be together, yes? The whole damn time." His eyes turn glassy. "Please," she says through her tears, "please, Leo."
A cannon goes off, and a part of her dies. She stands up, trying to brush the tears away, and grabs the pack before starting away from the sand nearly as red as that of the Cornucopia.
Ward approaches her. "I heard a cannon. Is everything - " He cuts himself off as he sees the blood covering her clothes. "Where are you hurt?"
She shakes her head. "I'm not, Fitz, Leo, they." She doesn't finish the thought. A small jet swoops down. They watch the plane carry off his limp form.
Ward's jaw is set firmly with his anger. "Who did this?"
"Miles and the Careers."
Ward starts walking. "Where are you going?" Jemma asks.
"We need to find a better hiding place," he answers. "This one's been compromised."
She follows him wordlessly.
…
Their supplies are dwindling after each of them taking a drink last night, and the only food they've seen in the arena was at the Cornucopia, so they decide to head back in that direction.
Around sunset, a voice behind them says, "Miles tried to poison me."
Ward is already turned around with his knife raised when Jemma looks. Skye stands alone a few yards behind them.
"It didn't work," she adds. "You taught me pretty well, Robot. Thank you." Ward doesn't lower his knife. "Look, I'm unarmed, okay? I just – I don't have anywhere else to go."
The knife returns to Ward's belt. "Okay."
Skye gives him a grateful smile and walks a few steps forward. "Hey, where's Fitz?" Jemma shakes her head, not wanting to say the words. "Oh. God, I'm sorry."
"It was Miles," Ward tells her.
"Bastard," she mutters. "You guys heading anywhere specific or just trying to keep moving?"
"Is anyone at the Cornucopia?" Ward asks.
She nods. "That's where we were staying."
"There's no food out here, and we can't find any water either. We need the resources," Jemma says.
"How many are there?" Ward asks.
"Just the girl from 1, Miles, and the boy from 6, but they're all pretty scary. They were going to have the boy from 1 and the girl from 2, so they're pretty mad about that."
Jemma remembers the terror throughout her entire being when the girl from 2 attacked her and knows that even if Ward can take out all of them, she'll be a liability. Skye can keep up with him, and she can't. She wonders when she'll get taken off their little makeshift team because of that.
"Still too many to take on with just the 3 of us," Ward says.
"I could stay back, and you guys could go on without me," Jemma suggests.
"No," Ward says, and Skye shakes her head.
"Just for a bit," Jemma explains. "You guys could go on to the Cornucopia, and I could catch up later tonight. If I were there for the fighting, I would just be something more for you two to worry about."
Ward takes a second to think about this. "Fine. But not until morning."
Jemma nods. Ward pulls a knife out of where he has them stashed in his belt and offers it to her. She takes it.
That night, she takes watch alone with only her jacket to keep her warm. She feels jealous of Ward and Skye, snuggling close with the blanket thrown over both of them.
Leo's face hangs first in the sky that night, followed by the girl from 7 and the girl from 9. 12 remaining.
…
The next morning, Grant and Skye set off just as it's starting to get warm. The knives are all they have in the way of weapons, and there were only four in the pack. Jemma holds hers close to her chest and tries to make herself small so no one will see her. Terror inside her is building. Anyone who walks up would be able to kill her. She hates feeling so vulnerable.
She wonders if people are watching her. Surely she wouldn't be the most exciting part of the Games at this or any time. At least her mum and dad probably still know she's alive. She doesn't want to disappoint them.
She wonders if Leo's dad knows he's dead.
Just then, she hears the shuffling noise of sand, much like yesterday. She stands up and turns around, only to find herself directly facing the girl from 11. She holds a spear and has a mean snarl on her face. Jemma dodges the first blow of her spear and falls into the sand. She pulls out her knife.
Jemma rolls over desperately just as the girl strikes her spear right where her chest was. She knocks over the girl's spear, making the girl lose her balance. Then, while the girl tries to get up, Jemma slams the point of the knife right into the girl's skull.
A cannon booms, the first one that morning. Jemma grabs the girl's spear, then carefully pulls her knife out of her skull. She moves away as the plane comes to pick her up.
The rest of the day is spent in restlessness. A few more cannons go off, three to be exact. No one else comes for her. She begins to hesitantly and quietly move toward the Cornucopia as the sun starts to go down at the end of the day. She's almost within sight of it when she sees Skye.
As she goes closer, she realizes Skye is covered in blood, same as her, she supposes. The two hug, glad to see each other alive.
They separate. "The girl from 1 got away," Skye says. "Ward didn't." That information doesn't really get time to sink in. "We can go back, but Laurette, I think that's her name anyway, she might be back. It would be hard to defend."
"Let's get some supplies and then sleep somewhere else," Jemma says.
"I grabbed some stuff while I was up there." Skye holds up another full water jug and two packets of food. "I'm glad you're okay."
"Me too," Jemma answers. They exchange small smiles before the events of the day really sink in. They consume most of the food and water before sleeping that night. Skye takes first watch, but neither of them are sleeping by the time the faces of the dead show up where the stars would usually be.
Grant Ward is the first one up there, followed by Miles, the boy from 6, the girl from 8, and the girl from 11. 7 more to go.
…
The next morning, Jemma and Skye creep closer to the Cornucopia. As they suspected, the girl from 1 is back, and neither of them particularly wants to challenge her. She's about the size of both of them combined and already stands at the ready, knowing people are watching her and planning to attack.
They just barely get a chance to see a tribute on the opposite side of the arena pull out a bow and arrow before the girl from District 1 falls with a shocked look on her face. A cannon goes off. Jemma and Skye get down while the girl and boy from 10 appear, seemingly from nowhere.
Jemma can't breathe as they claim the space in the center of the Cornucopia. She tries to stay out of sight, hoping that they won't look in her direction and wishing this was the sort of arena where she could hide easily.
A cannon goes off in the distance, and Skye grabs Jemma's arm and runs. They shoot off as fast as they can, tumbling over the hill in their rush.
They both gasp for breath, and after a minute of rest, they start moving again, trying to put a little distance between them and the Cornucopia. They only have a little bit of water and food left, but they don't want to go back up there.
They eventually find a place that they decide will be fine to rest in. It's right at the top of an embankment, which should give them an advantage against attackers who are on the lower ground.
"Do you have a family?" Skye asks after a minute.
"Yes," Jemma answers. She doesn't say anything more because she doesn't want to think about her family safe at home, and she certainly doesn't want the people of the Capitol to know anything about her home.
"I just have my foster dad, and he's mean. He hits me sometimes, when he doesn't like what I'm doing. Or he's drunk. And he won't like my returning home or my not returning home, but at least if I don't return home, I won't be there for him to take his anger out on."
"When you get home, you're going to get your own home and lots of your own money, and you can leave him out in the cold with none of it to pay for his bad habits."
A hint of a smile appears on Skye's face at the suggestion. "What about your family? What's it like?"
"It's...nice, I guess. I have two parents, and they love me and each other. And I have a big brother. He's already working on getting power from the sun for the Capitol and some of the districts. I would've been working, well, probably in a different field of power, but if I hadn't been reaped, I would've had a good job soon. And a good life."
"How old are you?"
"14. What about you?"
"I'm 16," Skye answers.
The sun is fading away into the starless dark of the arena at night that Jemma is almost used to.
That night, only two faces appear in the sky. The girl from 1 and the boy from 7. There are only 5 children left in the arena.
…
They wake up early the next morning to the boom of a cannon. Jemma grips the spear she stole tightly.
"Probably someone at the Cornucopia," Skye reassures her. "How many more would that leave?"
"Two, other than us," Jemma answers without hesitation. At Skye's questioning look, she says, "I've been counting. We should go back to the Cornucopia. It's best we catch them before they're expecting us. They can wait us out for quite a long time yet."
Skye nods, and they leave. It takes just over an hour to get to the dreaded place, and the tributes from 10 spot them long before they actually arrive because of the easy visibility in this arena.
"You take the boy; I'll take the girl," Skye instructs, and they separate.
Jemma tries to spear the boy, but he dodges nimbly. He then takes a strike at her with his sword, and it catches on her arm. She winces.
Skye dives down, and the arrow that the girl shot at her misses. She cuts at the girl's ankles with her knife, and the girl kicks her hard in the jaw. She spits her blood into the sand and stands quickly, her elbow jabbing at the girl's chin. She disarms her like Ward taught her to, gripping her weapon arm and spinning into her chest. She pulls back with the bow and throws it down, then breaks the girl's neck before she can react. A cannon goes off.
She looks over and sees that Jemma's having trouble with the boy. He's dodging all of her strikes, tiring her out, and it looks like she's caught the force of his weapon more than once. Skye rushes over to join them.
Just as she reaches them, the boy's sword enters Jemma's gut with a sickening noise. Without even thinking about it, she throws the knife at him, and it enters his chest. A cannon goes off, and Skye starts to panic, but it's not for Jemma.
Jemma's blood covers Skye's hands as she tries to staunch the bleeding, but the light is already leaving her eyes.
"Come on," Skye whispers so that Jemma can hear but the cameras can't. "You have to go home to your family. You have people waiting for you. Come on, Jemma." A cannon goes off while she's still talking.
Skye stares blankly at the dead body of her last friend and the blood covering her fingers. Over a loudspeaker, President Snow says, "We have our winner!" She feels awful. A plane comes down, and she stares at it with wide eyes, unsure if it's for the bodies or for her.
A delighted, colorful citizen of the Capitol crows, "Well, come on, honey, the crowd is waiting." She climbs onto the jet.
Waiting on there is District 3's escort and previous victors. The escort, Valeria Vipointe, is bubbling with energy and electricity. She talks, but Skye doesn't listen to a word. One of the previous victors, Phil Coulson, who, along with Melinda May and Grant, did most of her training before the Games, puts his hand on her back comfortingly, and she sees in his eyes that he understands.
…
The ride back on the train is both too long and not long enough.
She asks Coulson whether she has to let her foster dad come stay with her in her new house. He and May assure her that she doesn't.
Mostly, things are quiet, which is better than loud. She can't close her eyes without hearing the boom of a cannon and seeing more red than should be able to come out of one person. Grant, Jemma, Leo. She failed them.
She comes to the conclusion after a month at her new home that this is not winning. She may be a victor, but what she's won does not nearly add up to what she lost to get it.