A/N- A big thanks to everyone who has read this, and especially to those who have reviewed. Also, this story would not be possible without LoveTheBoyWithTheBread, who was there to catch my grammar and spelling booboos at the beginning, and Laeve, who took on the beta-reading yoke when Mel was no longer able.
I'm in my dress clothes again, at a funeral again; but this time I don't feel angry. I don't even really feel sad. I just feel neutral. Dull. Sort of empty. I don't know whether this is better or worse than how I felt after Silk and Glimmer's funerals. Probably better. No amount of misery will bring any of them back, of course, so I might as well not have an awful time. Right? I don't know.
I shift my feet uncomfortably. I can hardly get myself to focus for a few minutes, and I feel guilty. This is my sister's funeral. Even if she was awful and hated me with fiery passion, I should be more respectful. But I can't help it. My head just feels so fuzzy, like a layer of gunk is wrapped around my brain. It complements my weird sort of serenity. It's kind of nice, to really not care for the first time in a long time.
Of course, that's not an entirely accurate statement. I've run the gamut of emotions since Glimmer died. I've been numb before. I'll be numb again.
I take a quick look at Fame. I can't help but think it'll only be awhile before something awful happens to him, too. I can't imagine getting to keep any of my siblings unscathed at this point. His eyes are clouded over and red-rimmed. He took Queen's death harder than any of us, unsurprisingly. I wonder if he's having the same sort of thoughts I did when Glimmer was killed. Probably not. The Hunger Games didn't kill Queen; the lack of them did. Plus, he's pretty thick in the first place.
My eyes slide to Riches. He looks even more bored than I am, fidgeting and pouting every couple of seconds. I wonder if he cares at all that his sister is dead. Clearly, he'd rather be off training than attending her funeral. I haven't seen him outside of school since he moved out, but he didn't even seem upset when Illusion disappeared, so maybe he really no longer cares.
I hardly bother looking at my parents. Ma'am is putting on her air of false mourning, but Sir is outright livid. He's furious that a whole 'nother eighteen years of raising a child for the Hunger Games has gone to waste. Really, it's almost funny what bad luck he's had in that department. All three of his daughters were snatched away, with one son likely too damaged now to stand a chance in competition. What are the odds?
My eyes drift over to Retail, Queen's sleazy boyfriend. He's actually crying, which surprises me. I thought it was just some stupid physical thing between him and Queen. Maybe I was wrong. He does seem to miss her.
A couple people make speeches. None of them are very eloquent or hold my attention. When they finish sticking her into the ground, people immediately begin mingling. It's more subdued than usual, I have to admit, but her funeral still seems to be regarded as more a social event than anything else. I don't bother sticking around to gossip. I turn on my heel away from our congregated friends and family and march away from the gravesite. No one follows me. Maybe they don't care. Maybe they think I need to be alone. Maybe they didn't notice. I'm guessing all three.
Either way, I'm glad that they're leaving me be. I do want to be alone. I need to think. I don't know what about, but the feeling that there's just something just on the edge of my knowing is becoming very annoying. I wonder if the blankness brought on by Queen's sudden death is stopping me from realizing…whatever it is.
The cemetery Queen's been assigned is a pretty nice place. I mean, not really nice, but not covered in graffiti and garbage. It almost looks like a park, with a river running down the middle of it, with steep grassy banks that will probably keep me out of sight for the rest of the funeral. I go down about halfway to the river and sit down, wrapping my arms around my knees. I'm far enough away from the noise the rest of the funeral guests are making that I can hear the rush of the river and the squeaking of some sort of bird. It's nice here. Much more peaceful than it is at home. Prettier. I wonder if that even matters to Queen anymore.
One of the common afterlife theories is that you'll be rewarded or punished depending on what sort of person you were. If that's true, will the scenery matter to her much either way? And where would she be right now? Was she a good person or a bad one?
It's my first, knee-jerk reaction to say that Queen was innocent of who she was. She was raised to be violent and nasty and competitive. She had every reason to be the way she was, didn't really have any reason to be anything else. So how can she be culpable?
But the harder I think, the less sure I feel. Queen was certainly raised to be cruel and violent and hateful...but so was I.
I plop my chin down against my knees and frown. Queen was a prime...I hesitate to insult her now that she's dead, but 'bitch' is really the only way I can think to put it. Queen was no saint either. I had my moments too, I know. But Queen was different than even me or Glims. When I was around Glimmer, even when we fought, I could sense something steadier and more dependable than anger in her core. Maybe Glimmer was nasty and violent some of the time, but she was never completely beyond love. When I shouted at Queen, I didn't see anything. There were no underlying depths, no hesitation in her hate.
I'm not quite like Queen, either. I wasn't beyond being touched by tragedy. When Glimmer and Silk died, I killed myself for not being able to save them. Queen didn't blink or, when she deigned to respond at all, just insulted them. When our ten-year-old sister disappeared into gang-littered, crime-stricken, violent District 1 I woke up gasping from nightmares about the horrible things that could have happened to her. Queen was only glad to have more space in our shared room. While our little brother suddenly stopped being a sweet, enthusiastic kid and turned into a fifth-year soldier, I watched from the corner of my eye and wished there was something I could do. She was off gossiping with her friends and making out with her boyfriend.
She's different from Fame. He may be an idiot and he may be a Career, but he's never had her vicious streak. He's been raised to be hateful and violent for fourteen years, and isn't half as cruel as she has in her seventeen.
She never had Illusion's sweet nature. My younger sister could be violent. I remember the way she almost threw herself at the screen in the desperate excitement that Glimmer's awful death gave her. But there was always some measure of her in it, even in the throes of bloodlust. Even when cruel or violent, Illusion held on to some small part of herself. Queen was never like that. When she was at her most angry. She wasn't Queen; she was violence.
Queen never had Richie's joy. He could have been any kid in the Districts, excited to learn, if not for the fact that he was learning how to be a teenage assassin. He had a love of life that she could never match. Maybe Queen loved the Games just as much or more than he did, but it was always a dark, doomed sort of love. Riches has taken it too far now, but he still has that love of the life he's working towards.
She never had Silk's pure devotion. No, what my sister had was fanaticism. Obsession. If Silk had lived and not qualified for the Games, she would have been furious. She would have been more frustrated and angry than she'd ever been. But she would have figured out some way to keep living and keep pursuing it or something else.
Queen didn't have any of the good qualities the rest of us did. Why not? We were raised just the same as she was. Five of us even had the same parents. What was the difference between Queen and the rest of us?
I'm interrupted by footsteps coming down the hill, slipping a little on the wet grass. I look up and see Fame wandering down the hill toward me. He sits down and sighs. He looks tired. His eyes are red-rimmed and dark-circled, and he rubs his temples like he has a headache.
"Hey," he says glumly.
"Hey," I reply carefully. I don't know what he wants, but I'm going to try to be nice to Fame. He loved Queen probably just as much as I loved Glimmer, even if she might not really have returned the favor, and I know this has to be hard for him.
He doesn't say anything for a long time, and we just sit in silence. After a while I start to feel uncomfortable. I never hated Fame, but we've certainly never been friends. He was always with Queen, and that was enough to put me off. Now it feels odd to just sit here with him. Glimmer and I could have wasted hours just sitting and talking, or even just doing our homework together. "So…" I begin, trying to break the silence. "You…y'know…doing okay? And things?"
"No. But, y'know. I'll live. Unlike her," he mutters, picking a strand of grass and ripping it into four pieces before moving on to the next.
"Oh. That's…that's good, I guess," I offer.
"I guess," he agrees, and there's another short pause. "But I'm not doing as well as you did, really."
I give him a slightly disbelieving look out of the corner of my eye. "What? You think I did well? You're…you're really off, man."
He shakes his head. "No, really. You had a shitty time of it, I know, but you're okay now."
"No, I'm really not," I insist.
"Yeah, you are."
I look at him for a moment, trying to understand what he's trying to say. "Okay. Well…wouldn't I be the expert on that, not you?
He hesitates a moment, thoughtfully. "No. I really don't think you are."
"Huh. Well, enlighten me, in that case."
He picks up a rock next to him on the grass and tosses it into the stream. He watches it sink for a moment, apparently collecting his thoughts.
"I dunno. It's hard to explain. Bear with me for a while, okay?" he says, eyes glazed.
"Okay," I agree.
"Well, back before, back when Glimmer was alive, you were kind of a jerk. Real bastard a lot of the time, actually."
"Excuse me? I was a bastard? Who-"
He holds up a hand to shut me up. "Bear with me, remember?"
I grumble a bit to myself but stop my iterruptions and wait for him to continue. He looks at me for a moment to make sure I won't burst out again and dives back into whatever story it is he's telling.
"Anyway. You weren't a great guy, most of the time. Now, I'm not saying I was, but I'm really not important to this. This is about you, and you were a jerk.
"But that changed when Glimmer died. I mean, it changed fast. You just...ground to a halt. I guess someone who didn't know you as well or didn't think to look might not have noticed it, but I did. All of a sudden you...stopped. It was like you were second-guessing every single thought that went across your head. I mean, you still did everything you did before, but you were sort of hesitatient."
I frown, pulling at my socks uncomfortably. It's weird to have anyone monologue about me this way, much less Fame, who I've always dismissed for a half-wit. I didn't think he had any powers of observation in his thick skull, but everything he's been saying has been spot-on. It's weird enough that I don't even jump in to inform him that he means "hesitant".
"I figured that it had something to do with Glimmer dying. I mentioned it to Queen, and she said you were just going through some weirdo-depressed phase and I should just stay out of it. But I wasn't so sure. When something's a phase you can- well, you just feel it. You feel it some surface ...thing, and you find it annoying or ignore it or whatever, but you don't expect it to last. And this wasn't some surface thing. This was like a reverse-surface thing; your phase was acting the same as you always had.
"I figured out pretty early on that you were, y'know, doubting things. After that I sort of dismissed it, because I figured you wouldn't really drop out of being a Career. What else are you gonna do, you know? But you didn't 'get over it', and it made me realize some things."
He doesn't say anything, and I realize he thinks he's done. But he's not, or rather, I'm not ready for him to be done.
"What things?" I prompt him.
He frowns again, like he's starting to get a headache. Even if Fame's not the idiot I thought he was, he's no genius, and I don't know that he's ever had to just lay his thoughts bare like this before. I don't know that, if he tried, anybody would have wanted to listen.
"Okay. Yeah. Well...I figured out that you were different. It was weird to notice that because I'd always thought you were just the same as me or Queen or whoever, but you weren't."
"Yes, I was," I break in. "Before Glimmer died I was-"
"No. No, you weren't. It was really buried, but that...whatever you have was still there. It just needed something to bring it out.
"That something didn't even need to be something like our sister dying. Sooner or later, even without help, you'd realize the stuff you know now."
I look at him out of the corner of my eye, surprised. At first the idea that Fame knows the Reform training didn't stick is terrifying. Even if it didn't work last time, it was still awful and they could do it again. But then he goes on and puts my fears to rest.
"Because you're special. You're ...real, almost. You're you, no matter what sort of layers people might force onto you, and that 'you' they're hiding is always going to come back. I'm not like that. Glimmer and Queen weren't like that. We're fake people. We may smile and move and laugh, but we're what we've been made into, not ourselves.
"You got some sort of power that I don't, Lightning. You can pull out of the smog and see clearly and go, 'No, that's not what I want.' I can't do that. I never will. But I envy you.
"I'm not going to change. I can't. I just can't. I'm going to leave and hide my head in the sand and pretend we never had this conversation. I'll pretend I don't know my whole life is a pile of shit. But you're going to leave this place with a choice. And I envy you for it.
"See what I mean?"
I think before I respond. Do I see what he means? I guess so. I guess I do.
What's the difference between Queen and me? The answer is: Queen and me. For whatever reason, she was taken in and I wasn't. The blame can't be foisted entirely onto our parents. For whatever reason, something about Queen as a person made her give in. Is it fair? No. Is it entirely her fault? No. But I can't pretend that Queen didn't have a hand in her own fate.
I've had a hard time of it. That's not self-pity, it's fact. I've seen my family and best friend murdered. I've been tortured. I've been abused. But I can't blame the world I live in for all the evil in it. The Hunger Games didn't just happen like a rainstorm or an earthquake. We mad it happen. Evil's in the Games, but it's in us, too.
At then end of things, when we lie in a bed or on the ground or wherever, vision going black, we have to accept our part in guiding our own steps, and we won't be able to change the path we took. All we can do is try, as hard as we absolutely fucking can, to take the right path when the choice is still ours. Maybe if everyone did that, the world would start to fix itself.
The world messes us up, and we mess up the world. It's a nasty cycle, and we can't sit back and let it happen.
Do I get what Fame means? Yeah, I think I do. I'm lucky to know this. I'm lucky to understand exactly what's holding me back. And I'm lucky not to be the sort to love my chains.
"Yeah. I do," I tell him.
"Good," he replies simply. We don't say anything more, just sit in silence, watching the river flow, thinking our own thoughts. Eventually our parents show up and take us home. I stand, wiping loose bits of grass and dirt from my pants. Sure enough, the familiar blankness has slammed back down over Fame's eyes. It's a little eerie, seeing how easily he turns off the sort of thoughts he poured out to me today. But somehow I don't know if he's right that this is all he can do, that this is all he can ever be. The fact that he realizes his limits makes me question if they exist. I suppose I just need time to figure it out. And for once, time is something I've got a feeling I have.