The Birds They Put In Cages
– Chapter 11 –
'I went down among the dust and pollen,
To the old stone fountain in the morning after dawn,
Underneath were all these pennies,
fallen from the hands of children,
They were there and then they were gone...'
–Fleet Foxes
A few nights sleeping in their own separate beds and Belle is so restless that she can barely stand her own company for five minutes.
She and Gold keep a low profile, seeing each other no more than a victor and her mentor might keep each other's company, but when they are behind closed doors there is no force that can keep them apart.
Belle's intent on christening every room – especially in the wake of her newfound appetite for Gold – and they've only just begun to check off her list. But apart from her soon-to-be-husband, she longs for Red's company. She hasn't come, and Belle hasn't had time to seek her out.
But today is different.
Today there are no cameras, no cars, and it seems like a week is long enough for everything to start winding down from the Games, before the Tour. Belle knows that it builds the tension in the Capitol, having little in the way of updates regarding the Victor, and so the citizens are rabid when the Tour rolls around.
Today, Belle can walk out of the little close of houses in which she now lives, down the paved road, and into town to find her friend.
So she takes special care to have a bath and wash her hair, enjoying the facilities with which she has been gifted, and to dry her hair until it curls, before braiding it and dressing as she would on a normal day in the district. Although she hasn't had time to collect her things from home, so she has to make do with the wardrobe given to her.
Belle doesn't tell Gold where she's going – she'll be seeing him later, as arranged, for food and conversation and sweet nothings – but simply takes off in her pale blouse and knee-length skirt.
She notices the slow transition from lush comfort to gritty industry within moments of heading down the secluded and tree-covered way. There isn't much in the way of flora in the district, and it grows scarce along the lane as it opens up into the outskirts of town.
It's early enough in the morning that there are few people milling about the crowded houses that line the way into the heart of the district, but late enough that people are beginning to leave their homes and families for work and their jobs in the factories to the west of town.
Belle wants to say that the people she's grown up with going about their business continue to do so, but they do not. An elderly woman sitting on her doorstep spits at Belle's feet as she walks by, and Belle knows that this is just the beginning.
Some people stop and stare as she walks into town, toward Granny's, and some people openly speak out now there are no cameras, no rules to follow regarding appropriate behaviour of the winning district.
Mothers usher their pointing children away, and familiar faces offer not one word to Belle as she looks them in the eye, debating on stopping to talk to them as she used to, before they turn their backs to her.
She tries to regulate her footsteps, to not show her embarrassment or her upset, but she starts to walk faster, avoiding people's eyes, and she wonders if this wasn't such a good idea, to do this so soon and without Gold.
He is her rock. She shouldn't have left him at home. It's too late to turn back, even if her pride would allow it.
Eventually, the narrow, dusty streets open up a little more into the hive she knows the centre of the district to be, and here there are even more people to stop and stare at her, or avoid her altogether.
Some of the older, more weathered faces look at her without malice, just pity, but they still move out of her way like she has a disease. The younger kids – ones she's seen growing up or at school before she left – look at her with fear and awe.
Fear always comes with fascination – that's what she had told Gold, and it's true. Looking at the children, with their obvious hesitancy to come near her but their inability to look away, she knows they will think of her the same way she had thought of Gold.
She'll be the district's new monster.
Belle turns her face away, wishing she'd put her hair down so she could hide behind it now, and continues on past the second-hand clothes shops, into the square. The grey cobbles are clean, and Peacekeepers are still dotted about the place from the coverage of the Games, more of them than usual. But if Belle had thought she could lose herself in the usual milling of people and their chattering, she is to be mistaken.
The quietness and interest follows her, spreading through the crowd, and it feels like ten-thousand eyes are on her, the insurmountable weight of them bearing down.
She keeps her gaze on the washed cobbles and takes the long route across the square, avoiding mingling with the people so openly watching her every move, like she might attack any second.
She dodges a few oblivious people that are still continuing about their business in the little shops lining the square, and makes her way down the alley on her left, where the entrance is marked by two awkwardly-angled shop fronts, each boasting the best broth for the cheapest price.
There are no people down this way, entering or exiting the little crooked doorways lining the dirtied path, but Belle can feel the people behind still looking at her retreating figure.
Granny's trading shop is the third pale-brick doorway on the right – a small wooden sign painted by Red nailed to the battered door – and Belle notices a few people passing by the end of the way up ahead stop and stare as she pauses. She ignores them, darting inside.
For a moment, it's like she can breathe a little easier. The familiar scent of Granny's cooking from upstairs fills her head – she's made a stew, Belle can smell it – along with the mustiness that comes with the array of things Granny trades for. There are books, thread, and clothes – pretty much anything that has a bit of value – and then there are the more expensive and prettier things that people have traded for what they actually need.
The speciality items sit in a little glass case. The things are few in number, but most of them are shiny in some way. There's a small silver mirror, and a hand-painted tea set that has always caught Belle's eye, being a little damaged but still beautiful.
But the memories fade and in their place a new feeling forms – a feeling of unwelcome, stemming from Granny's cold blue stare across the small and battered counter she's just appeared behind.
The woman has always had a no-nonsense attitude, especially since Red's mother and father died in a past sickness and she took on her only grandchild, but she now seems positively frigid in her reception.
Belle had expected a little hesitancy, maybe even to be shunned, but not this cold indifference, like they're strangers.
Hope plummets inside of her, and Belle's eyes fall to the warped floorboards, looking anywhere else but into Granny's gaze.
"Is Red here?" She manages to ask, her words a little cracked.
"No."
Belle knows it's a lie, and from some secret place she summons the courage to look the grey-haired woman in the eye. Granny doesn't move except to tighten her ragged shawl about her shoulders a little, her head tilted so she can peer at Belle over her half-moon spectacles.
Before Belle can release the anger building inside of her, the door behind Granny opens.
"Hey, Granny, I'm–"
Red's words die on her tongue as she looks up from closing the door behind her to catch sight of Belle. If Granny wants to hold Red back, she is to be thwarted.
Red practically flies at Belle, circling the counter and throwing her arms about Belle's neck, escaping Granny's outstretched hand. There, in Red's embrace, Belle finally feels like it is the district that has changed, not her.
"I prayed for you, Clara."
Her friend's murmur turns Belle's hug into a grasping, clawing thing, and it's like Red's comfort is a balm to her very soul. It's all Belle needs: to know that she has Red and Gold there for her.
"Thank you," Belle whispers.
Red pulls back, blue eyes fixed on Belle's. "You were so brave, and you did it. Told you so."
Belle cracks a watery smile. "You did."
"I've got so much to tell you," Red sighs, taking Belle's hand and pulling her around the counter, heading towards the door.
Granny blocks their path, and it is a sudden showdown between the last two surviving Lucas women.
"She's not going upstairs," Granny states firmly, hand pressed to the frame of the door and arm barring the way. "I won't have it."
Red's determination is a force to be reckoned with, Belle knows, but the widow has never been afraid of her granddaughter. They're both so wilful, and Belle has always wondered how they ever get anything done.
"Yes, she is," Red argues fiercely. "She's always welcome here."
Granny does not move. "Not now, she isn't."
Belle takes a step back, tugging on Red's wrist. "Come on. It's fine."
"No. It's not." Red doesn't look back at her, just stares down Granny. "You're my best friend, Clara, no matter what."
"I can't have her here anymore," Granny cuts in. "I know you'll see each other somehow, no matter what I say or do, but I'll not have her under my roof."
Granny has drawn a line in the dirt, and Red looks ready to dance all over it. Although Belle is hurt, she's tired too and she doesn't need this struggle. Not now.
"Let's go," Belle urges, taking a few steps back. "Come on."
"Fine. But this is not over," Red promises, and Granny watches them leave the shop, still barring the way upstairs.
Red curses her grandmother the whole walk to the Victors' Village, and every person who crosses their path, staring at and whispering about Belle.
"It's like they've all gone crazy," the girl half-growls as they take the lane to Belle's new house. "Like they've forgotten who you are."
Belle gives her a half-smile and links their arms. "I've killed people, Red."
The other girl just looks at her like she's crazy too. "Yeah. In the arena. It's different."
Belle doesn't bother explaining how she thinks of her new situation, because Red will think what she thinks and Belle likes that about her. She can always count on Red to be true to herself and constant.
Belle lets them into the house, after Red has finished admiring it, and gives her a short tour. Red sits in the soft armchair when they're done, looking like touching a single thing in the house will smash it to smithereens.
"Wow."
"Mm." Belle smiles. "I know."
"And they just gave you all this?"
Belle nods, settling in the opposite chair to Red's in front of the cold fireplace. The other girl gives the place another long glance, before sitting back in the chair with more purpose.
"I need to tell you some things," Red begins, and Belle nods, her fingertips curling in the end of the arms of the chair.
"Go on."
Red pushes her curtain of dark hair over her shoulder and combs it through with her fingers. Belle knows that the news will not be kind from this single, near-nervous, gesture.
"Gaston's marrying Violet." Red glances up, gauging Belle's reaction. "You know, Wick's daughter. She's the blonde girl who used to sing at school."
Belle remembers a thin, little thing with a pretty voice, and she wonders how Gaston caught her interest. Or perhaps Wick the butcher had arranged it, the same as Belle's father.
But Belle knows this is not the news Red wants to convey, because she knows how Belle feels about Gaston and how their engagement had come about, and this news, Belle thinks, is trying to soften the rest Red has to tell.
"Well." Red straightens her dark pants and shirt, before continuing in her brushing of her hair. "Your father told Gaston to find someone else, because you were never coming back. And he...he sold your things, Clara. I'm sorry."
Belle sits back in the chair, numb. "My things?"
She thinks of her miniscule hoard of her mother's treasures, her favourite dress and her pretty little hair-things, her books and her collection of pencils, and then she thinks of them in a box, or a bag, being sold by her father to a stranger for as much as he can get for all her worldly possessions.
"He..." Red reaches out, abandoning her hair, and grasps Belle's knee. "When we had to watch the Games, he watched it with me and Granny, and...when you won... Clara, I've never seen him look so angry. He...he said that..."
"Tell me," Belle urges her, when Red doesn't continue.
"He said...it's better to have no daughter than a victor."
Belle's so consumed by her rage and her pain that she doesn't notice Gold's sudden appearance in the doorway of the room until Red makes it obvious, standing and practically protecting her.
"What are you doing here?"
Belle tugs on Red's hand and near-croaks, "Red, it's fine. Please, sit down."
Gold's back is clearly up from Red's unexpected presence, and though his expression is carefully blank, his eyes worry over Belle's rigid form. She knows he's heard what Red has said about her father.
Red's eyes dart from Belle to Gold as she takes her seat up once more, but she says nothing else. Her eyes ask for explanation enough.
For a moment, Belle considers hiding it all, lying through her teeth and reeling off some crap about how Gold is a good mentor and looks after her. But that won't repay Red's loyalty any more than it will assuage Belle's.
With a weak smile in his direction, Gold comes to stand at Belle's side, cane gripped tightly in his right hand as his left squeezes the back of Belle's chair. She knows he wants to be touching her.
Red crosses her arms over her chest, and Belle knows she needs to start talking.
She takes a deep breath and begins. "I did what I had to do to get sponsors."
"Yeah." Red nods, eyes on Belle. "You never were one to flirt and throw yourself about. I knew that was an act as soon as I saw it."
Belle allows herself a small smile, before continuing. "Gold helped me, and along the way...I..." She rubs the side of her thumb against the almost rough upholstery of the chair in thought. "I found something I never really thought to look for."
Gold's hand slides from the back of the chair to her shoulder, slipping over her shoulder blade and down her back. Belle feels so reassured with such a simple touch, and it gives her the courage to look Red right in the eye.
Her friend has an eyebrow cocked as if she's in half a mind about the whole thing, like she's simultaneously annoyed and protective but also...understanding.
Red smiles at Belle's obvious surprise. "You've always been an odd one, Clara, and I don't begrudge you any happiness." Her eyes flick to Gold. "No matter who it's with. I'm just so fucking relieved you came back at all, and now that you have, and you're not...you know...well, I'm just so glad."
Belle reaches out and Red takes her hand, giving it a squeeze. Belle wants to tell her that it's a close call being 'you know' – crazy – and that it's tough to hold on some nights, but it can wait. She certainly hasn't had it the worst, like some of the other tributes and victors, ones that weren't spared a drawn-out Games or being passed around the Capitol like a living doll, and she can tell Red those stories another time.
Gold finally speaks. "I hear you're the person to ask for a blessing."
Red looks to Belle, and then back to Gold, her features softening a little. "That's right. Thinking of tying the knot then?"
She means it as a joke, but it falls flat in the face of Gold's obvious sincerity. Red's eyes widen and she looks to Belle.
"Seriously?"
Belle nods, unashamed, and Red seems to take a minute to think it all through. Belle could tell her the ins and outs of the entire affair, the love between her and Gold that marriage will protect instead of stifle, but it's unnecessary. She knows Red likes to deal with the big issue rather than the working parts.
After a few moments of silence, the girl sighs and attempts a smile.
"I always thought I'd be the first to settle down," she says. "Shame."
Belle can't help her wide grin. "Thank you."
Red nods and waves her off, before looking back to Gold and giving him a no-nonsense stare that Belle's sure is a Lucas family trait.
"So," Red begins. "You want to marry my best friend."
Belle looks up to see Gold give a slow nod, the corner of his mouth curling upwards almost invisibly.
Red gives an almost-grunt. "Well, you better look after her."
"I will," Gold vows, his thumb drawing a soft and soothing circle on Belle's back.
"She's too good for anyone in this district, probably all of Panem," Red announces, cutting off Belle as she makes to interrupt. "It's true! He should hear this." Her eyes return to Gold. "She's brilliant and smart, and if you discourage her reading, I will end you. She's mad for a lost cause, and you better keep an eye on how much salt she has, because she's weak for it."
Belle feels her cheeks flush hotly, even as she laughs against the back of her hand, but Red isn't done.
"She'll probably attempt to bring back strays of all sorts, and you better let her, because she'll just do it anyway to show you." Red takes a long breath, before adding almost gruffly, "And don't let the idiots in town anywhere near her, or you'll have me to answer to."
There's a beat of silence, and Belle looks up to see Gold's sly smile.
"Not too tall an order then," he drawls.
For a moment, it seems as if Gold and Red are sizing each other up, and then the moment's gone and Red turns to Belle and gives her a short nod. Her blessing.
Belle throws herself into the other girl's arms, murmuring gratefully, "Thank you."
Red squeezes her back. "Don't worry about it. I know you'll do the same for me."
Belle pulls back, her heart ten-times lighter and her smile twenty-times brighter. She gives her a playful look.
"I'll even come along with an axe, if that will help," she tells her, and Red laughs and gathers her up in her arms, like she's never been so relieved to hear a poorly-told joke in all her life.
"I love you," Red whispers against her shoulder, sounding so small and quiet, just for Belle's ears.
Belle strokes her back, smiling and sighing. "Me, too, Red."
Red leaves as the sun begins to sink, but promises Belle that she'll return within the next couple of days. Gold is there for Belle once the door shuts on the disappearing figure of her friend.
His arms come about her waist and she tucks her face against his chest. He drops a kiss into her hair.
"Alright, love?"
Belle nods.
They just stand there for a moment, silent and breathing, enjoying the peace and quiet and the knowledge that there is one person who doesn't fear or loathe them and is, in actual fact, rooting for them.
"I came over earlier," Gold murmurs. "But you weren't here."
"I went to find Red," she explains, glancing up. "I found out what everyone thinks of me, too."
He watches her for a moment, his fingertips stroking her jaw. "I heard what she said about your father."
Belle's fingers clench in the folds of Gold's black suit jacket, and she thinks she just might tear the fabric, her chest aches so intensely.
"Maybe he'll come around," Gold offers soothingly, fingers running over her braid.
"I don't want him to."
The admission is harsh and heavy, laden with anger and pain and, above all, betrayal. Belle can feel it churning inside of her, the sharp and radiating pain of being given up on by her last, surviving parent.
"He gave up on me," she grits out, eyes misting, tears forming. "I can't believe he gave up on me."
Gold catches her when she falls, bringing them both to their knees and holding her close. And she cries.