Three.
Night Terror.
Rachel was still crying when Leroy got home shortly after he left the Justice Building.
"I took her straight to her room, and she's just curled up on her bed" Shelby told him in a hushed voice. "What did she say?"
Leroy shook his head as he moved to the kitchen and sat down.
"Not much. It was more about protecting the boy than saving Rachel. No reason specifically to do with her. At least, that's what she told me."
Shelby turned from the kettle she was filling up.
"You think there might be more to it?"
Leroy shrugs. "You remember what Burt said to me two years ago. This could be it." He got up to fetch the tea from the pantry. "Quinn could have the potential."
Shelby quietly set a pot and three cups down on the work top.
"Why would she be chosen before she's even won? They need a victor, Lee, not a tribute."
She fills the pot with tea and water, stirs it, and then pours a cup of weak tea.
"Besides, at the moment, a rebellion is just a rumour." She says, almost in a whisper, as she leaves the kitchen and walks down the hall to the room at the end. She opens the door quietly, and her shoulders sink as her daughter comes into view. Rachel is in the exact same position she was when Shelby went to make tea. Shelby pushes into the room and sets the cup of tea down on the dresser next to the bed, and sits next to her daughter. She's stopped sobbing, but still lets out the occasional sniffle and whimper.
"Sweetie, it's okay." Shelby rubs her back, and begins coaxing Rachel to sit upright with her other hand.
"Drink your tea, dear."
Shelby brings the cup to Rachel once she's sitting up, and Rachel shakily takes it from her hands and gulps half the cup down, not caring that it's still hot.
"I need to start preparing dinner, but just come through if you need anything, okay?"
Rachel nods, and Shelby leaves the room. Rachel doesn't eat dinner that night, and while she's exhausted, and she doesn't fall asleep until the early hours of the morning.
"Dinner will be served in fifteen minutes" Cronin says as he enters the carriage. I'm actually pleased about his presence, as it breaks the awkward silence that we've been sitting in for almost half an hour. After Cronin had shown us to our rooms, we washed up and got changed out of our reaping clothes into some awful Capitol type garments. Then we were ushered into the dining carriage to wait. Sam explained to Burt what happened at the reaping, I received some questionable looks from him, but he didn't say a word to me.
Cronin grabs a bottle of wine and two glasses from the table at the side.
"Hummel?" Burt shakes his head, and Cronin puts one of the glasses down. He pours a glass and sinks into one of the couches with a groan.
"I'll tell you this now," he says to me, "there's going to be some fuss made over you in the Capitol tomorrow night."
"Why?" Sam asks before I can.
"She's District 8's first ever volunteer. And I really mean first ever." He turns back to me.
"People are going to be asking you about it all week, I promise you."
"He's right," Burt nods. "What are you going to say to them?"
Six eyes turn to me and I can't think.
"Uhm, that I'm going protect Sam?"
Burt shook his head.
"No way. You wont get sponsors. If someone is going to be protecting anyone it'll have to be Sam protecting you."
"What!? No, Sam is going to win. He can't-" he cuts me off.
"If you go to the Capitol saying a skinny little girl is going to protect an almost man who is twice the size of you, you're going to be laughed at. No one will take you seriously. It will make Sam look weak. You'll get little sponsors, if any."
I scoff and look away.
"By all means, Quinn, protect Sam when you get in there. But until then, you need to think of another reason for volunteering."
I have nothing to say. It's ridiculous, the Capitol thinking I couldn't protect Sam. Why shouldn't I be able to? Before I can think about it too much, the carriage door slides open and two Avox's walk in with a dinner cart. We'd heard that the Avox's serving the tributes were District 8 criminals, but since none of our tributes had ever come back in my lifetime, it was just a myth, really. We'd never have asked Burt. I sit down at the table with the other three and slyly stare at the woman. She's maybe in her thirties. Tall, blonde, thin. I believe maybe she is from District 8, I can feel some memory trying to surface in my mind. I don't recognise the boy, and he's probably only a few years older than me. Maybe from one of the suburbs outside of town. No one speaks during dinner, aside from the few comments Cronin makes about the food. It's a real feast, and there are dishes I haven't ever heard of, let alone tried. Burt retires to his room shortly after dinner, and soon enough the night rolls in and we're sent for a good nights rest, as if that's possible for tributes.
I lay in bed wide awake for about an hour before the door slides open and I see Sam's figure stand in the door way.
"Hey" I whisper as I sit up.
He shuts the door and sits at the foot of my bed, and stares at the floor. I swing my legs around so we're side by side, and I place my hand over his. He twists his wrist around so our fingers slide into each others and he squeezes my hand.
"Do you really want to protect me?" He says, and it's almost a whimper.
"Your family needs you."
After a moment he turns and buries his face into my neck, shaking and sobbing. I wrap my arms around him and we stay like that for about ten minutes, but I can't be sure. This is the third time I've seen Sam cry. The first was when his grandmother died seven years ago. The second was when his mother didn't speak for a whole month. He's never seen me cry, not even at Judy's funeral. He whispers something into my shoulder but I can't make it out. I pull myself away and look down, and he repeats it with more volume.
"Did you recognise the blonde Avox?" I nod.
"But I don't know where from…"
"Me neither…" He sits up and wipes his nose and eyes with the satin sleeve of the night shirt found in his room.
"We should sleep, we've got a long day ahead of us." And with that all traces of tears and hurt are gone, and his face is back to stone.
"Good night, Quinn." He leaves me in the dark.
Rachel finds herself in a fuzzy version of last years arena. Yellow rock and sand for miles, no trees, a hot sun beating down on her face. She looks down, and sees that she's in a beige flight suit and black combat books. In front of her, she sees the final scene from the 63rd game. Cecelia, spear in hand, avoiding the knives being flung at her head. The Career is the same, but Cecelia is different this time. She's faster, more agile, and taller. Her hair is different too, Rachel remembers it being long and red. It's short and blonde now.
"Cecelia?" She calls, unsure if it's even her. She sat next to her in lower school for three years, how could she be so uncertain? The girl doesn't answer. The Career continues picking up knives and throwing them. The girl turns and sprints towards Rachel, and she sees that it's definitely not Cecelia. The Career throws a knife and it lodges itself in the back of Quinn's neck.
"QUINN!" Rachel runs towards the limp body on the ground, but a cannon is set off and Quinn is being hoisted into the sky. A fanfare starts.
"The winner of the 64th annual Hunger Games, is Rachel Berry!"
Rachel raises her hands in protest, and sees that she's holding two knives. The Career is nowhere to be seen. Tears begin freely flowing down Rachel's face, and before she can wipe them away, she lets out a strangled sob, and falls to the ground.
"Rachel!" Claudius Templesmith shouts through the arena PA. "Rachel!"
She feels hands on her shoulder, and looks to see President Snow staring at her from above.
"Rachel, honey..." he says.
She closes her eyes to trap the tears, and when she opens them again she sees white sheets and yellow wall paper, dimly lit by the moon through the window.
"Sweetie, it's okay, just a bad dream…" Her mother is at her side.
The brief feeling of thankfulness is soon swept away by guilt. She curls herself into a tight ball and sobs loudly.
"Quinn is going to die because I'm not," she forces out through strangled cries
I'm not 100% happy with this chapter, but I just needed to get past this part somehow, and I didn't want to just skip over it. I think the rest is going to run a bit more smoothly and possibly with longer chapters.