So every time I had inspiration to write something, real life and work got in the way and when I had a bit of time, the story just didn't flow. I still intend to eventually continue writing the sequel to The Coldplay Anthology and another story post "On My Way". However like my other stories, this particular idea took hold and I can't help but write it. I have to thank thefrick who still had faith that I would write more faberry so this first chapter is for her.
The 19th Hunger Games - You Reap What You Sow
Theirs was the first romance at the Games. But it was never meant for television consumption though it occurred nonetheless. Borne out of love and not desperation even if the odds were never in their favor. The hunger games, faberry style.
Part 1 - Quinn Fabray
She slowly spoons the broth into the man's mouth even as she feels her own stomach grumble at the prospect of losing her meal for the fourth time this week. Quinn knows how lucky she is though, compared to the other citizens of District 4. Her father's status as a doctor and her own budding healing talents allowing them some respite from the harsh reality of their lives.
The other citizens were forced to work for the benefit of the Capitol while she and her father toiled to keep them healthy enough to do their jobs. The only thing that she had in common with the rest was her participation in the reaping when she had turned 12. Even then, she was still slightly better of because of the fact that this would be her last one and unlike many others, she still had the odds in her favor, only having her name in there seven times.
She winces when the man coughs, a deep gurgling sound signifying that he's slowly drowning in his own blood and despite how adept she is at healing, this case is beyond her meager supplies and superior skills. Her father would have maybe been able to help but Mr. Evans didn't have the money or goods to trade for such care. The gaping wound at his side still sluggishly bleeding around the brown oar sticking out from it.
"He should die at home" her father's reproachful voice cutting through her thoughts. She knows he does not approve of what she is doing or what she intends to continue doing but she does not care. It's just not in her nature to watch someone die, not if she could at least try to do something even if it was just to ease their pain, like now.
"He does not have much time left." Her voice is wary and not that of a seventeen year old, which is to be expected considering everyone grew up fast in the Districts and only the children of the Capitol were allowed their childhood. "I sent for his family to come." she knows she has angered him when she hears his hand push open the door with such force that the knob hits the wall leaving a mark.
"When will you learn?" his hand is squeezing her upper arm, forcing her to turn to face him even as he drags her from the chair such that she spills the rest of the broth on the floor. Quinn expects the slap but the force in which he puts into it surprises her as she reels backwards, falling to the ground with a thud, her hands slipping on the already wet floor. "Helping the weak only shows how weak you are." his words said through gritted teeth as he tries to get her to understand the way the world works and how he's trying his best to protect her even if it meant hurting her in the short run.
She does not try to argue with him because there is no way she would win knowing that he would use his hands as much as his words to get her to see his view."I'm sorry." her voice is contrite enough such that he lowers his arm as he stares down at her. "I won't give them anything else, just the knowledge that he's going to a better place."
It's just the right thing to say because despite their differences, their faith is the one thing they have in common. Practiced in secret and binding them together stronger than the blood they share. It allows her to forgive his own transgressions, the drink and propensity to lash out when he could not contain his anger.
Quinn sees him look down at the overturned bowl on the floor next to her. "Your rations tomorrow are suspended." It's a small price to pay to at least be able to help. She nods her acceptance before getting up to clean the floor and wait for the Evans family to show up.
It's close to seven at night when they do. A young man her age with two younger siblings with a frail blonde woman. She's seen Sam around and knows he had to drop out of school to join the fishing crew when his mother took ill. Some say it was the fever but her gaunt expression and vacant eyes could only point to morphling addiction. It would explain the need for extra money and the reason why Mr. Evans had volunteered for the job which eventually led to his accident and soon his death.
Quinn tries to smile at Stacie. She's small for a twelve year old but in the water, she's faster than even the sixteen year olds. It's a good skill to have even if Quinn hopes that she'll never have to use it either on the fishing boats or worst in the Games.
But that was normal in District 4, the only way to survive was to put their own lives on the line, be it volunteering for tesserae or doing work that would eventually get them killed. It was accepted like how the sun would rise everyday and the simple fact that their lives were not all their own but for use in service of the Capitol.
"How is he?" Quinn hears the underlying question clearly from the boy. Sam she thinks his name but does not say it out loud. They had shared a few classes and she remembered that she had liked his smile. Although she knows she won't get to see it again at least not for a long time.
She thinks of what to say that will bring comfort and not scare the already scared looking children and woman. "I gave him something to ease the ...to help." She only has knowledge of natural herbs and no access to the stronger medicines that could mask almost any pain. Those were kept by her father and reserved for the people who could pay which was not the case here.
But her skills at mixing and apothecary allowing her medicines to mimic the properties of a lot of those that her father dispenses. So at least she speaks some truth and sees some relief on Sam's face.
Her own expression morphs to surprise when she sees his hand extended and four large fishes hanging by their mouths on an intricate trap hanging with hooks. It looks beautiful and deadly at the same time. And when she realizes that it's payment she shakes her head. "No. I..." she does not do this for any payment but only because she knows she must. The impetus to save lives, to make a difference, so ingrained that it allows her to go against her own father's wishes on a daily basis.
"Take it." Sam's voice is harsh as he thrust his hand at her, his face filled with hurt and pride. And Quinn understands what he's thinking even if she knows she'll have another fight on her hands when he hears what she's going to say next.
"Sam.." she can see he's surprised when she finally uses his name and she takes the opportunity to cut him off even as he opens his mouth. "He was brought in five hours ago, the wound already sluggish." She sees his eyes slam shut as he takes in her words, understanding that his father never had a chance. "I gave him something to stop the pain and he had some food." Sam's blue eyes finally meeting her hazel ones as an understanding passes between them, beyond words because there really was nothing else to say.
He nods his thanks to Quinn knowing that despite his father's prognosis, she had done as much as she could, more even. Feeding a man on his deathbed was just a waste but he can see that she had done it anyway. "Thank you." his hand finally dropping to his side as his fingers tighten around the trap holding the fishes. With his father almost dead, they would need all the food they had and more. He's not really sure where he'll get it but it does not mean he won't try and ensure that his brother and sister and mom are looked after.
"How long?" Mary Evan's voice sounds rusty, hollow even as she looks at her husband lying on the bed, his face ashen and his breaths shallow. She knows it's only a matter of time for him and therefore also for her sons and daughter. Without Dwight, there was no way they could survive. She feels her own breaths shorten as she understands that her fate was sealed and all she had to look forward to was to see her children slowly starve before her eyes.
"Mom." She feels Sam take her hand in his, his voice urgent and anxious but she cannot look at him instead just staring at the rise and fall of her husband's chest until it stops and she feels her own heart stutter in her chest as she falls to the floor clutching her abdomen as if in pain, a keening wail already forming on her lips. "Mom, please, I'm here. It'll be fine. Please." Sam does not want Stevie or Stacie to witness this and he's thankful to see Quinn usher them out, pulling a small crust of bread from her pocket and telling them to share it in the hallway.
Quinn feels helpless, knowing that there really was nothing she could do, all her hopes and prayers amounted to naught when death came. Still, she cannot just stand there without at leas trying so she helps Sam with his mother, putting her in the chair she had been occupying. When she looks at Sam, she sees anger and profound sadness lining his face and it takes all her resolve not to reach out.
"She's sick" his tone is defensive and all she can do is nod even of she does not fully believe. It's only when he pulls up the sleeves of his mother's dress and she sees the sores adorning her arms does Quinn truly understand; infection from the pox. Not fatal like before because it had been reengineered to be non infectious but deadly nonetheless. Only instead of a quick death, the victims developed external sores which slowly eats through flesh, leaving a burning sensation. A slow and very painful death. The victim barely able to function much less work. It explains so much even if she feels like she does not deserve to know.
However, she can see Sam gauging her reaction before he continues, "Stacie looks out for her after school and Mrs. Zizes drops by from next door every now and then." His words finally spurring her on as she goes to her medicinal box.
She scrambles through her supplies until she finds the vial, 100 mg of morphine. Not the poor substitute sold in the districts but the real medicine, taken from her father's store. He never missed it but she never dared to take more. Quinn knew she would eventually have need for it and this seemed a good time as any. Her fingers curl around the bottle as she mimics Sam's actions when he had offered her the fish.
"Please take this. It'll help." Instead of waiting for him to agree, Quinn steps forward tugging on his arm and placing the bottle in his palm. Before Sam can say anything, the silence is broken by the sound of the door slamming open as her father once again strides in to the room dragging Stevie and Stacie with him, his voice accusatory. "You said you would give them nothing." He shows her the small crust of bread in his palm before once again raising his arm.
Only Sam is faster as he steps deftly in front of her, his own arms raised as he stops her father's hand in midair. "Don't." It's a battle of wills and even if Russell Fabray's is stronger, Sam Evans is younger and in better shape such that he finally pushes him backwards. Before Russell can do anything more, Sam scoops up the fishes he had brought and throws it at the doctor's feet. "For my father's care and the bread."
It's more than enough payment and he does not wait for Russell's response before going to the bed and carrying his father's body. His sister and brother already helping their mother to her feet.
They're twenty feet from the house when he hears the sound of running feet behind him. His body tenses until he realizes that the footfalls are light and when he turns, he sees Quinn's face, a bruise forming at her cheek and the side of her mouth bloody. He tightens his jaw, wishing he could help her as much as she had helped him but all he feels is impotent rage.
Sam wants to go back to her house and take out some of his anger on her father to teach him to stop laying his hands on Quinn. And it's as if she reads his mind as she skids to a stop in front of him her words already meant to soothe.
"I'm fine. I'm so sorry i couldn't do more." He feels like crying at her words and covers it with a harsh laugh instead as he opens his palm to reveal the treasure she had given him. The relief it would bring his mother even more valuable than she can imagine.
"You've done too much already. I will never be able to repay you but I will try." Even as Sam says the words, he knows that he will spend the rest of his life trying to repay Quinn Fabray. He does not know how and to be absolutely honest, he also understands that it's as empty a promise as their food cabinets at home. But it's already taken root in his mind as he leans forward to kiss her on her cheek. The softest of touches to seal a promise.
He feels her intake of breath but she does not pull back. Instead her hand closes around his. "5mg every two to three days will make it last and just take care of your family." As always, she wishes she could do more even if she knows she really cannot. The reality of their situation presses down on her as her shoulders slump. Sam's kiss even more confusing because all she feels is lost and empty.
"I will. See you tomorrow." His sentence does not end in a question and she's momentarily confused until she looks into his eyes and sees resignation there. She thinks of the day and remembers its Saturday. No school or secret church to meet up at until she remembers the date; Reaping day.
The one and only day that there is no difference in where you were born or what trade your parents hailed from. The only thing that connected all the families with children in District 4 and all the other Districts. She hates that they are forced to dress for the occasion much less the pomp and ceremony of a glorified culling. But like Sam and all the other children in the Districts, she has no other choice except to accept her fate whatever that may be.
"The odds will never be in our favor." Mary's hollow voice sending a chill up her spine which Quinn prays is more from the cold than an indication of a premonition. Still, she does not turn to go back to her house, instead she stands there until she can no longer see Sam or his family in the waning light.
She won't sleep tonight like she hasn't for the past six years each night before the reaping. One more year and then she'll be free or at least free from the fear of the Games. Quinn touches her cheek, the memory of Sam's kiss not quite overriding the pain caused by her father's hand and she wonders if anything other than morphine could stop such pain, before trudging back to her house.
End Part 1
Next up, Part 2 - Rachel Berry. As always, my question to you is should I continue or has this premise been overdone?
