Summary:

A few years after Glimmer's death, Nat remembers. 'I knew your sister', Nat will think, but she'll hold the words close like an embrace, like the ghost of Glimmer's lips against her skin, and turn around and head for home.

Notes: I didn't intend to continue this, but then I did.

Information-gathering at parties is one of Nat's better assignments. When she first heard about the op she assumed it would be ridiculously counterproductive, but it turns out people will say a lot of stupid things to a pretty face and fantastic body in a tight red dress. Nat is rarely required to go home with anyone after these events because she gets more intel if she stays late and sops up the tipsy ones, and since Fury made it impossible for her to get drunk years ago, she gets to go home late, but without a headache and on her own terms.

Still, doesn't mean that people aren't idiots and that idiots don't try things. Tonight Nat has managed to get fairly incriminating stuff from at least three ministers and two Gamemakers - nothing good for Fury but the kind of salacious crap that Snow and his cronies lap up and use as blackmail, not her problem - and so she allows herself a little down time. She grabs a drink, leaves the main party and heads out to the balcony, dangling her arms over the edge and staring out at the city.

It's not like skipping off, anyway, because plenty of people will wander out to talk to the pretty girl all alone on the balcony, and some of them aren't careful in what they say because they want to impress her. There's always the possibility, anyway, and Nat refuses to feel guilty about taking a break. Maybe she can get one of them to tell her about next year's Arena, which isn't useful to Snow or even Fury right now, but figuring out which Gamemakers have loose lips now can save her a lot of trouble later when they might be more suspicious if she had to test the waters first.

The Capitol could be a beautiful city, she thinks, maybe, if you don't know anything about it or just don't think too hard - she's definitely heard people say it, and she gets taken up to rooftops to gaze over the coruscated skyline numerous times when out on assignment, so she knows other people aren't immune to its charms. The problem is that Nat knows what's out there, and she doesn't even have to look past the glittering lights and chandeliers to the seamy underbelly to know where the ugliness lies. The Capitol is like a beautiful girl sleeping on the floor, innocent and promising until you realize she's dead, with maggots crawling beneath her skin.

Sometimes Nat really wishes she could get drunk. Not just tipsy, but blinding, roaringly drunk - except not really, because if she didn't have the alcohol metabolizer that would mean she'd just be another District One painted doll, and she'd still take this anyway, at least most of the time. Life is all about sifting through the shit and picking the kind that doesn't stick to your hands or doesn't stink so much, but you can't have both.

Footsteps, and Nat holds back a sigh of irritation. Male footsteps, which is even better; she wouldn't mind dancing with one of the Capitol's more open-minded debutantes, because even if it doesn't matter who has what equipment when the money changes hands, at least their attentions tend to be a bit more subtle. Oh well.

"Hey there," the man says, and he's youngish, maybe thirty, and Nat gives him a cool smile while holding back a grimace of distaste. Newly made, this one, and arrogant; just promoted to his position as second-in-command at a major entertainment channel, if she recalls correctly, which, of course she does. Nat has his dossier. He never requests someone with her skill set because he likes his girls pliant and giggling, and recently not even the regular distribution channels will accept him unless he pays triple because not all the girls he buys make it home. He would've liked Glimmer.

Nat's hands tighten around her glass, her fingers squeaking against the side.

"So what's a pretty girl like you doing out here all alone?" he asks, and Nat wishes they could appreciate just how much effort, how much self-control, goes into not rolling her eyes. She never fucks the same way twice because it helps keep the clients fresh; you'd think they could come up with some better lines. "Looks to me like you should be in there, dancing."

"I like the sights," Nat says, and he has no information she wants so she's not going to bother enticing him, but that doesn't mean she'll completely rebuff him, either. You never know what he might have heard and be too stupid to understand the significance of. "The city is beautiful at night."

"So are you." He leans in close, and she can't smell the liquor on him but that's only because at these parties it's all fruit and bubbles, not the good, hard stuff that burns your throat and kicks you in the stomach. "Hey, we're all alone out here. How about a dance?"

"I'm a little tired, actually," Nat demurs. "But thank you for the offer."

"Aw, c'mon, I know who you are," he says, and that's not a good thing. Nat stiffens and glances at him, takes the second of active cognition to recall his name. Serbian, she thinks. "You're the latest victor from District One, sorry I don't remember your name, though."

Oh, that. Nat lets her shoulders relax and stops cataloguing which would be the fastest way to kill him and dispose of the body while taking note of the camera blind spots. There's only one on the balcony, and she could manoeuvre him over to out of its range easily enough. Just to be safe, she takes a few steps to the side, leading him into the clear zone without him noticing a thing.

"Impressive," she says, though without much feeling; merely acknowledging the point rather than showering him with praise. "You saw me on television, I suppose."

"Yeah, and I hear things, too." Serbian leers. "C'mon, we both know why we're here, and unlike some of the guys out there, I don't see the point in pretending you actually have a valid invitation. I'm sure you're sick of the games anyway, appreciate a bit of honesty. Who you with, and I promise I'll give you twice what he's offering."

Nat allows herself a throaty chuckle, low and dangerous. "Oh, I don't think you could handle me. I'm not the usual fare."

"Yeah, they all say that, babe." Serbian winks at her and slides his hand around her waist. Nat looks down at his arm, then back up, with a raised eyebrow. "What, you gonna bill me for that?" He does pull back, because several companies do in fact charge for any kind of contact whatsoever and would not be circumspect about sending a bruiser to collect if someone tried to skimp on his bill. "What's your thing then, using teeth when you go down?"

"Like I said, I'm pretty sure you couldn't handle it," Nat says, stomach curling in disgust, but really, this isn't anything she hasn't heard a million times, and from men who are more in a position to threaten her than this one. If he goes to Snow to complain, he'll just get laughed away. "I'm also out of your price range."

He snorts, loudly. "Pretty sure you're not. Do you know who I am?"

"I do," Nat says calmly. "I know your net worth as of the last quarterly report, even, but that's not what I'm talking about. It's about cachet. You need a certain amount if you're going to get me, and you don't have it. Where you're standing, you're looking at a two-year waiting list, minimum. Frankly, you haven't attracted the President's notice enough."

"Oh, now you're one of his favourites, huh?"

"You could say that." Nat taps her finger against the rim of her glass. "If you're that interested in me, then do something interesting. Do something risky. Make him pay attention to you. Then, if you're lucky, he'll offer. But you don't ask, not the first time. That's not how it works."

Serbian just rolls his eyes. "Come on, sweetheart, I know how this works. You're District One, and everyone knows what that means. You might play rough, but at the end of the day you all roll over on your backs same as the rest."

"Maybe," Nat says, lifting one shoulder. "But not for you. Like I said, there are plenty of others who would be happy to meet your needs. I'm not one of them."

"Man, they're just not making them like they used to," Serbian sighs, apparently giving up on his quest. "And you know what, I think it's a conspiracy. I think they're trying to drive the prices up. C'mon, you can tell me that much, can't you? I'm not a consumer anymore, so it doesn't count as insider trading or anything. I think they're letting more of the One girls die so we pay more for the ones who don't."

Nat's vision flickers with red, but she clamps it down. The worst part is that she knows he's right; if a One girl isn't exceptional, if she's not the best she could possibly be, they'll keep her in the Games as long as they can, but then the powers that be will intervene. No sense flooding the market with substandard product, not when clients can already buy centre rejects at economy pricing. The victors should be something special, and that means people need to wait a few years.

Glimmer was exceptional, and if it hadn't been for Twelve and her branch-sawing, they would have wanted her to win. Nat doesn't let herself think about that, not even when she's alone and has an apartment full of things to break.

"Now that girl a few years back, she was a beauty," Serbian continues with a wistful sigh, and that doesn't mean anything, every One girl is a beauty, but Nat's chest still clenches. "I don't remember what her name was. Glitter? Glitz? Something like that."

"Glimmer," Nat says without thinking, the word falling from her mouth with a reverence the way it always does, and she hates herself for it. Hates herself because now she'll have to hear it defiled by this disgusting lech.

"That's right, Glimmer," Serbian says, snapping his fingers in recognition, and it's like watching a swath of the softest cashmere, embroidered with jewelled thread, being used to wipe up some drunkard's piss and vomit. "She was gorgeous. I think half the Capitol wanted to jump off a roof when she died - I know I did. She would've known how to beg for it like a good girl." He looks at Nat and grins. "Hey, you two were only a year or so off, right? Did you know each other?"

"Yes," Nat says, allowing an edge, just the slightest hint, of the rage she's feeling creep into her voice as a warning. Maybe he'll back off.

Except no, that would be hoping too much. "I thought so. So did you guys ever - you know - together? I know I would if I were either one of you." Serbian nudges her with his elbow. "Come on, you can tell me. I've rented enough of you that I'm practically family. Did she used to beg for it? I bet she liked it - I mean, of course she liked it, why else was she there, right?"

Glimmer shakes in her arms. Nat combs her fingers through her hair, beautiful and soft, smoothing out the tangles, and she doesn't say anything because platitudes won't fix it.

"What if I can't do it?" Glimmer asks, her fingers twisting in Nat's shirt. "What if there's an earthquake and the entire Arena except for me is wiped out in a tidal wave. Or what if everyone else just honestly is worse than I am? It's not like I could lose against a Twelve, so what if the Twos aren't good enough? I can't kill myself, they'll know. They'll come after my sisters."

Nat is actually worried about that, because she wouldn't have been half so interested in Glimmer if she weren't good, if she couldn't follow up the giggles and the hair-twirling with a strike so fast you never see it coming, so hard it splits your skull in half. It's her skill that drew Nat to her on top of everything else, the glowing radiance and sheer brilliance of her, like standing in the full burst of a sunrise.

She know the answer, though; it hits her like a full body tackle from Fury from their early training sessions, and Nat sucks in a breath. "I'll take care of it," she says.

Glimmer looks up, and she sits back. "What?" she asks, and her voice is sharp now, intelligent, thinking. Shrewd. She's planning, the same as Nat is.

"I said, I'll take care of it." Nat twines their fingers together, brushes her thumb over Glimmer's knuckles. They're callused from mace training, though of course tomorrow the remake centre will smooth that all away. For now Nat glories in it, the imperfection, the show of strength that no one else gets to see. "If you win - as soon as that last cannon fires - I'll find your sisters. I'll make sure they're somewhere safe. And then, I'll come to the Capitol and I'll find you and I'll do it myself."

Glimmer's breath hitches. "I can't do it myself," she says, desperate, "and it can't look like someone did it for me. There's nowhere you could take my family that's far enough."

That, Nat knows, is true. "It's okay," she says, mind whirling, and she leans forward and kisses her. "I'll find someone. One of the prep team, maybe, they always try to get handsy with the One girls, and I guarantee someone will try tomorrow. If he does, make sure your handler sees it. Let them know he did it, fix it in their minds. When I see you, tell me who it is, and after it's done I'll find him, tell him you want to see him, and drug him when he gets there. Everyone will think he came to get a taste, that you said no and that he killed you."

"They'll never believe that," Glimmer says, her lip twisting. "A prep team member, really? It wouldn't matter if it was one of the Peacekeepers, nobody will buy it. Not a victor."

"But you wouldn't be just a victor," Nat repeats, and she squeezes Glimmer's hand. "You'd be a fresh victor. Trust me, I've been there, and if someone wanted to kill me, that's the only time they could've done it. You'd be exhausted, and drugged to high hell. They'll have you under as much as you can so you don't go insane onstage and try to kill Flickerman with his own teeth. It'll make sense, I promise. And it doesn't need to be foolproof, just enough for people to get the idea. It'll make a good scandal, and that's all they want. They won't look any further. I promise, your family will be safe. I promise."

"How can you promise that?" Glimmer demands. "You can't do anything about it any more than I can."

"I got in here, didn't I?" Nat says, and she has a point. The centre building is off-limits for victors until they're old enough to make it in as trainers or consultants, but she's here, in Glimmer's bed, and no alarms have been raised, no one banging on the door. "I can do more than you think I can. Just. Please. It probably won't come to this, but if it does - let me do this for you."

Glimmer falls silent, stares at their joined hands. "Is - if I make it out, would it really be so bad? I mean, if I had -" she falters before she finishes the sentence, before she makes this more serious than it already is, which is of course a joke, but saying things out loud can make it real, and sometimes it's better left ephemeral.

"It would be that bad," Nat says, and she wants to lie - oh, she wants to lie, wants to be able to tell Glimmer it's all right, that she should fight to win and then they can be together - but she can't. "Worse than that bad. It would be Marvel, every day, and you'd have to let him do what he wanted and you'd have to smile and tell him you liked it, and won't he do it again baby, please, baby, and it would never stop. Not until they've pumped you full of drugs and left you dead in an alley, and I can't - I can't." Nat's breath shudders.

"But you're alive," Glimmer says, and the twist of misguided hope in her voice is like a knife in the gut.

"That's because nine times out of ten, I get to kill them after," Nat tells her, her words an ugly lump in her throat. They sit between the two of them, heavy and stinking, like Nat just vomited all over their laps. "I fuck them, find out what they know, and then I kill them. You won't be able to do that. That's not your game."

Glimmer sucks in her breath. "You had to pay for that," she guesses, and Nat nods. "Was it worth it? Whatever you had to do to get this."

Nat thinks of Clint, curled up in a ball and sobbing for days, unable to look at her or make eye contact, how long it took before he let her touch him at night again, pull him in and hold him as the nightmares shook him and he screamed into her shoulder. "I don't know," she says. "Sometimes I think so. Sometimes I don't."

Glimmer nods. "When you kill me," she says, and the words are shaky but it's as though they give her strength, and she straightens up, squares her shoulders, and looks Nat straight in the eye. "I don't care how much they've given me. I want to be awake. Don't just come in and slip a syringe in my arm."

Nat huffs out a broken laugh. "Are you kidding me?" she asks, and she touches Glimmer's face, skims her fingers across her cheek and into her hair. "Last night together, and you think I'm just going to kill you in your sleep? Hell no. I'm going to spend the night with you one last time, properly, and then I'll kill you in the morning, before the start of the working day. Enough time to get the guy to your room before security finds him."

Glimmer laughs, and she holds her eyes shut against the tears. "You know how to treat a girl right," she says, and when she opens her eyes again her gaze punches a hole straight through Nat's gut and out through her spine. "If you can, do it when I come." Nat hisses, and she shakes her head. "I'm serious. It's the only few seconds when I forget where I am, what's going to happen. It's when it fades that everything comes back. I don't want to die remembering. If I don't die in the Games, I want to die with you, happy. Can you do that?"

And what, exactly, is Nat supposed to say to that? "Of course I can," she says, and Glimmer smiles. "I promise."

"Good." Glimmer runs a hand over her face. "Not that it makes any of this less sick, but - I don't know. It does, almost. At least I won't be the Capitol's favourite toy, used and tossed in the trash. They can't take everything."

And oh, they can, but at least Nat can choose when and how they take it. "Well, now that's settled," Nat says firmly, and she pushes Glimmer back by the shoulders. Glimmer lets her, and she gives Nat a smile that sends sparks shooting straight down to her toes, curls her fingers around the back of Nat's head and tugs her down with her.

They only get one last night on Earth; the rest is just so that Glimmer can go into the Arena and die knowing that whatever happens, it will be on her terms. Nat isn't about to bank on a miraculous second chance, and she's not going to hold back in the hopes that convinces the universe to give it to her.

"I think that's enough talking for now," Nat says, and she trails her hand down Glimmer's throat; palms her breast but doesn't paw at it like ninety percent of idiot men do. She slips her hand up Glimmer's loose shirt; Glimmer's back arches, just a little and not showy at all, barely enough for Nat to notice, and that's how Nat knows it's real.

When Nat comes back to herself, Serbian is on the ground, as well as a few teeth and about a pint of blood besides. "Fuck," Nat mutters, glancing down and seeing her hands stained red. She managed to put her drink down before hitting him, and thanking her rage-blackout self, she picks it up, douses her fingers in the alcohol and wipes the blood onto his clothes. That done, she steps back and screams, then runs back into the ballroom.

"He attacked me," she sobs, and none of the One girls would make it even close to being Volunteers if they couldn't summon realistic tears in seconds. "He attacked me, and someone saved me and then ran off - I didn't see who it was - and now he's bleeding. I think he needs help."

Several women surround her, holding her and cooing and patting her shoulders, poor dear how awful, while the men tut and rage and pretend they wouldn't do the same if they thought they wouldn't get caught. Nat takes note of which men the whispering women choose to commiserate about, filing it away for later, and cries onto the most expensive dress near her.

"Trouble?" Clint asks when she gets home.

"Yeah, but I handled it," Nat says, taking off her shoes and flinging them so hard across the room the heel leaves a dent in the wall, and Clint smiles, proud and bitter at the same time.

"Don't you always?" he asks, as Nat strips off her dress and pulls an over-large t-shirt over her head. "You need anything?"

"Not without a miracle," Nat bites out before crawling into bed, and Clint just nods, his jaw tight. He leans over her to set his book on the bedside table, then wraps his arms around her and tugs the blanket over both of them, working his fingers through her hair.

Clint is strong and solid; no soft curves and smooth skin with him, and even when she closes her eyes there's no question who she's with. She leans against his chest, focuses on his strength, the weight of his arms, lets it ground her in the here and now.

"I love you," Clint says, flicking off the light, and he scoots down so he can keep Nat curled against his chest, one arm across her back. He gets her knife from under the pillow and presses it into her free hand, and she twirls the blade in her fingers and breathes a little easier.

"You too." Nat noses his chest and tries not to think of Glimmer and the sad, wry, real smile she saved for their two nights together. Clint always seems to know when that's what's running through Nat's mind, and he doesn't say anything else, just rubs his hand across her shoulders.

She knows what she'll do tomorrow, whether she likes it or not. She'll take the train back to District One, hop a bus to one of the smaller cities, and then go for a stroll until she passes by a particular school. She'll watch the children play until she spots a certain blonde-haired girl giggling and jumping rope with her classmates - except no, it's been years now so she'll be older, maybe she'll have her first boyfriend or girlfriend - a beautiful girl who isn't dead even as her sister slowly rots in the ground, and when school lets out and the children scatter for home, the girl will smile when she sees Nat. "Hello, Miss," she'll say, and Nat will smile back and watch her run to her mother's side.

I knew your sister, Nat will think, but she'll hold the words close like an embrace, like the ghost of Glimmer's lips against her skin, and turn around and head for home.