"That was so stupid."

It's Virgil, and he's pissed. That's how Gordon knows it's real. That's how he knows he really did it, because there's really only one thing that gets Virgil so worked up, and it's the Games. He hates them - always has. Spends hours talking about rebellion when he thinks no one important's listening. At least now, he's got a good reason. "What the hell were you thinking?"

"I was thinking that we couldn't let Alan go."

"Alan was reaped," Virgil snaps. "It sucks and it was terrifying, but he was reaped, so at least he had an excuse. But then you go a volunteer yourself - god, Gordon. Do you ever think about consequences? You know the career pack is going to be all over you now, right? A volunteer from District 4 - they'll slaughter you. You shouldn't have done it."

"So, what?" Gordon barks. "You're saying we should have let Alan go? The kid's an engineer from District 4, Virg. He cleans the dam for a living. What's he going to do in the arena - throw a wrench at them?"

"I'm saying that you shouldn't have volunteered."

"What else was I supposed to do?"

"You shouldn't have done anything!"

And then it hits him. Virgil's not pissed because Gordon volunteered. He's pissed because Gordon volunteered. "You should have let me do it," Virgil says, and Gordon doesn't know how he's supposed to respond.

But he doesn't have to, because the door to that rich room swings open before he can say anything. At first, Gordon thinks it must be a Peacekeeper, telling Virgil that his time is up, and Gordon panics. He didn't even get to say goodbye yet, but his heart slows to a semi-regular pace once he realized that it's just Scott.

And Alan.

Alan's been crying. Gordon can see it in his puffy eyes and runny nose. For a second, he wishes he could join his little brother, but he knows how stupid that would be. There are cameras everywhere, and he can't risk letting the other tributes see him that way.

But Alan has no such reservations. As soon as he locks eyes on Gordon, the waterworks start up again, and not even the nearby ocean can compete with him. "I'm sorry," Alan squeaks. "I'm so sorry."

And then Gordon's down, and he's squeezing his kid brother tighter than he thinks is possible. "Me too," he says. "Me too, bud."

"You should have just let me go," he says, and Gordon can start to feel the tears through the shoulder of his shirt. "You should have just let it happen. I could have done it - I could have gone."

Gordon pulls his brother away, holds him at arms length, and studies him. He's so smart, little Alan. Just like John. Gordon wouldn't be surprised if, one day, Alan gets recruited to study in space, too. He smiles at the thought of those two, floating around up there with the stars, looking for new worlds to colonize. It's a better life up there - guaranteed food and exercise. Steady pay. Limited contact with the Capitol. It's the brightest future Gordon knows.

Gordon's going to spend the rest of his life catching fish on the other side of the dam. That's not a future he minds giving up. Not if it means Alan gets to keep his. "Study hard, okay?" he says. "Hit the books, go to class, ask questions. Never stop asking questions."

"This isn't fair."

"No. No Al, it's not. But it's the way things are right now, okay?"

"Why?"

Gordon smiles. "Attaboy."

He stands and rubs his hands in his brother's hair. Alan doesn't fix it and that's how Gordon knows Alan's really out of it.

But he doesn't have time to think about it - doesn't have time to think about anything anymore - because Scott's pulling him in close. He's got a firm hand on the back of Gordon's neck and Scott's looking right into his eyes. "You're skilled."

Gordon manages a laugh, but there's not much heart in it. This is Scott, after all. He doesn't have to pretend with Scott. "How nice of you to notice, Scotty. I was just thinking-"

Scott shakes him, hard, and Gordon knows that neither of them has the time or the patience to deal with jokes. "You're fast. You're clever. You can swim, Gordon."

"I know."

"Make sure you eat and make sure you drink."

"I know."

"But Gordon," Scott catches Gordon's eyes and locks on again. If feels like a long time before Scott says, "You're charming. Don't forget that. You're a charming guy and you have to get sponsors."

And it's finally all too much. He drops his gaze, and every overwhelming thought he's been having since the reaping starts to bloat up in his mind until his head's too full. His eyes start to sting and he has to bite his lip so that Scott doesn't see it it quiver. Don't cry, he tells himself. Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry. "Who are we kidding, Scott?" he says. "No one under fifteen ever makes it out of the Games."

"You will," Scout says, and it's really more of a demand. "You're going to come home."

They both know it's not the truth.

Gordon steals another glance at Alan, then turns back to Scott. "Get him to space, will ya?"

Scott just stares, like he's taking a picture and storing it somewhere in his head. The Last Time I Ever Saw My Brother: a piece by Scott Tracy. Gordon hates it, because he knows this isn't the final time Scott's going to see him. The final time Scott sees him, Gordon will be dead and bleeding, probably by the hand of someone in the career pack. The final time Scott sees his brother, it'll break his goddamn heart.

The door opens again, a man in a sharp white uniform here to tell them that time's up. Scott pulls Gordon in, holding on like he's going to fend off the entire Capitol with that one hug. Alan clings on, too, his arms wrapped around Gordon's waist. Even Virgil, clearly still mad as hell, brings himself in, knowing that he'll regret it if he never hugs his brother again. "Come home," Scott whispers. "You have to come home."

It takes seven peacekeepers to drag those three boys out of the Justice Building. It takes seven peacekeepers to pull the Tracy brothers apart.

And then Gordon's alone, the room too quiet against the noise in his mind, and it feels like he's been dragged out of the building, too. It feels like the part of him standing in the center of this big, velvet room is nothing more than a shell. The rest of him is still stuck in Scott's grip, just about ready to cry.

"I have to come home," he says to his own echo. And he does. He has to come home, or else he'll never be whole again.