(A/N) Hello again, all, and I'm very happy to announce that, with this update, we pass out the half-century mark, as this is our fifty-first chapter (counting the prologue, which is why the chapter title reads "Chapter Fifty"). As a result, it's very fitting that the chapter in question belongs to Steve Rogers, who'd be approaching a full century if he was real – in fact, he's probably going to reach it sometime soon enough in the Marvel Cinematic Universe. Lili's done a fantastic job here, I have to say, and I'm sure you'll all agree with me on that once you read through it.
Thanks once again to CrissKenobie-the-Numenorean, musicalocelot and sailorraven34 for their reviews. Would love to hear who you guys are rooting for, if you'd be up for sharing – and same goes out to anyone reading this fic, but have been too shy to share so far!
Enjoy!
Chapter Fifty – A Lesson in Thriving
Day Two
Steve Rogers of District Five
Written by Lili-Hunter
"We each survive in our own way." – Sarah J. Maas, Throne of Glass
Gravel crunched beneath Steve's boots, tiny stones grinding harshly together with every step. Sweat was beading on his forehead, and he felt like he was slowly blistering beneath the mocking gaze of the sun – it was so much hotter inside the arena that he'd expected it to be. Heat bounced off of the surrounding buildings, creating an oven-like atmosphere beneath their broken frames. If Steve lifted his gaze, he could see the road shudder beneath the rising heat waves.
His two companions weren't unaffected by the heat, either. Ro had tied her rust-coloured jacket around her waist as she trudged by his side, and sweat darkened her grey shirt. If Steve concentrated, he could hear her ragged breathing beneath the sound of his own chest heaving. But despite the high temperatures and the long trek, which Steve knew had to be taking their toll by now – especially since she was carrying his vibranium shield, which had to be heating up – Ro hadn't muttered a single word of complaint.
Neither had Carol, even though the tension throughout her whole body clearly meant that her ankle was giving her trouble. He could feel the hitches in her breathing, too, every time she stepped a little too forcefully.
Steve wished that they could rest. Really, he did; even though he was the one that had insisted they move so fast, and for so long. But Ro was grieving, and a little girl besides, plus Carol was injured – and that left him as the only one that could defend their small party from other tributes. But if they ran into the Career pack, Steve knew that they didn't have a chance. So, he'd wanted them to put as much distance between themselves and the other tributes as quickly as possible. It had been two days since the bloodbath, and Steve was starting to feel less like someone was breathing down his neck, but he was still reluctant to relax.
He was trying to make it easier on them, though. As the strongest, non-injured member of their little pack, Steve had silently offered to become the pack mule. Carol's pack was strapped tightly to his back, her spear firm in his hand, and the girl herself plastered to his side. He swung said spear forward, using it as a makeshift walking stick. It dug firmly into the cracks in the bitumen and Steve moved forward, Ro trotting as his left. Carol hopped furiously to keep up, her arm tightening around his neck as he gripped her waist firmly to keep the girl upright.
They moved more quickly like this, with Steve carrying some of her weight – but it also would have been a fair assessment to say that he was practically dragging her along. Her weight was straining the muscles of his back, and a deep ache was setting into his shoulders. He hadn't said anything, and neither had she, despite her tightly pinched lips and pale face.
Steve didn't know where they were going. He'd tried to form a plan a few hours ago, after shaking the others awake at the sun's first appearance over the horizon – "Where do you think we should go?" he'd asked, staring down at the road stretching beneath their feet – but Carol had only shrugged, and Ro's answer wasn't much better – "Away," she'd told him, and dug her toes into the dirt. She'd glanced at the sky for a moment, long enough for Steve's stomach to drop. Ro had looked at the place where, last night, T'Challa had gazed down at them. Steve hadn't asked again.
But remembering their earlier conversation only made Steve think back further. They'd been incredibly lucky to make it out of that bloodbath alive – though, admittedly, it had been close. Carol had told Steve about nearly being skewered by an arrow fired from that guy in District Two. Someone else had taken the hit that time, he knew, but it was hard to shake the thought that that might be the extent of her good luck. And, well, it wasn't as though Steve and Ro hadn't had their brief brush with death, either.
When the horn sounded, Steve exploded into movement. He ran straight for the Tesseract, trusting in the power of his own body to get him there before anyone else. He'd gone through the plan with both Quill and Michael – move quickly, grab supplies, then head west to meet up with Carol after a few miles.
Ahead, other tributes were racing to the Tesseract, but Steve knew he was in the lead. Just inside the Tesseract was a blue backpack, bulging with supplies. Some kind of weapon was leaning against it, perhaps some kind of axe. Steve knew he'd have time to grab it and escape the scene before any of the tributes tried to take a swing at him. He glanced around quickly, checking that none of the other tributes had caught up-
- and his gaze fell on the girl from Eleven. She wasn't close to Steve, wasn't chasing him down at all. But she was running as fast as her tiny body could manage, her arms moving like windmills as she pushed herself forward. He could see her target; a small grey backpack sitting near the edge of the square.
She wasn't alone.
The boys from One and Four – Wade and Thor, he remembered – were on her heels. Thor had already picked up a weapon; some kind of heavy hammer, which looked like it could crush Ororo's skull in a single blow. She hadn't even noticed that they were following her.
In an instant, Steve made his decision. His boots skidded against the cracked pavement as he abruptly changed direction, heading straight for Ro and her two assailants. Where the hell was T'Challa? He should be protecting her. Either way, Steve raced towards the girl. "ORORO!" he yelled, and the warning scraped against the walls of his throat.
She glanced up, her eyes going wide at the much bigger tribute racing towards her. But Steve screamed her name, again, and her head finally whipped to look behind her.
Steve looked at them, too. Wade was already watching him, eyes narrowed. As they locked gazes, the other boy grinned.
He was distracted from the nauseating flip of his stomach by a sudden roar – "On your left!" and Steve's gaze snapped to the side, just in time to catch sight of T'Challa. His arm whipped forward, and something silver glinted in his grip. In an instant, it was flying through the air towards Steve. He had the sudden, bizarre thought that this wasn't the time for games, because T'Challa had clearly just thrown a Frisbee – he and Bucky used to play, back in District Five – but no, it wasn't nearly so innocent. Steve snatched the object out of the air on reflex, and it was ashield – thick brown straps hung on the concave side and he slung it onto his left forearm in the last few, precious seconds.
Ro's eyes were wide and she screamed as Steve drew closer, but Thor's hammer was already arcing down and there was no time. He dropped into a skid mere metres from the trio, his boots scraping against the ground.
Steve fell into place just in time. Ro ducked just as Thor's hammer smashed into his shield, the impact shuddering through his locked arms and all the way down to where he was shoved into the pavement by the force of the strike. But Steve didn't waste time – he kicked out at Thor's knees, knocking him backwards as he scrambled to his feet. Wade had fallen behind the District Four tribute, but not for long.
Ro was still on the ground, and T'Challa was sprinting towards them. Twin blades glinted menacingly in his grip, and Steve's throat went dry for a moment – but then T'Challa lifted his gaze. "Get her out of here!" the other boy ordered in a shout, and Steve realized he'd somehow fallen into an alliance. It was fine by him.
Steve grabbed Ro around the middle – she screamed, at first, before realizing it was him – and threw her over his shoulder. She barely weighed anything, but clambered out of the hold within seconds and instead plastered herself against his back. Her hands clasped in front of his neck and her legs hooked around his waist, and it was suddenly easier to run. Steve pumped his arms and sprinted towards what looked like a side street, the shield steady on his forearm.
He glanced over his shoulder and saw T'Challa standing firm as Wade and Thor drew closer. Then, the boys lunged into action – and Steve looked away, knowing that distraction would only cost him.
It was the last time that they'd seen of T'Challa alive.
Steve glanced over, looking down at his shield. He'd given it to Ro to hold – partly because he didn't have enough hands and it was the lightest thing they had, but mostly because it was big enough to cover her entire torso and Steve didn't want her to be vulnerable while they walked. Earlier, she'd swung it around and admired the way that it sent rays of light scattering along the ground. Now, though, it just dangled limply from the straps wrapped around her fingers.
Carol hadn't argued when she'd found him, eventually, with Ororo in tow. She'd just sent him a look of exasperation over the younger girl's head, though Steve couldn't have really blamed her for being irritated – Ro had nearly stabbed her, after all. Then again, it was hardly unreasonable for Ro to be feeling jumpy.
Ro's stomach growled miserably as he watched her, and her chin jerked up. She glanced around the area, sweeping for signs of pursuit, before letting her chin drop to her chest once more. A soft sigh rolled from her lips, but she said nothing.
She'd been doing it for a while, he'd noticed – using her empty stomach as a timer to check for any approaching tributes. Since the noises of hunger came regularly, it was a depressingly effective system.
Steve's own stomach felt painfully hollow, and Carol had to be feeling the same. They hadn't had anything to eat since before entering the arena. Neither Ro nor Steve had managed to grab supplies, meaning that they were relying solely on the contents of Carol's backpack. But it hadn't had anything to eat, just a two-litre bottle of water. They'd almost emptied it, too, despite their attempts to ration. Steve's mouth felt uncomfortably dry.
After a few more minutes, Steve finally broke the exhaustion-induced silence. "I think we should stop soon," he said, and Carol's relieved sigh echoed his words.
Ro piped up immediately. "Can we go inside one of the houses?" she asked. "I want to get out of the heat."
"I agree," Carol murmured, and her head lolled back onto Steve's shoulder so she could squint irritably at the offending sun. She seemed to have gotten over her grudge towards Ro, at least a little.
Steve's laugh was relieved, and a little breathless. "Yeah, good idea, Ro. Let's reach the end of this block, and then we'll go find some shelter."
The District Eleven girl hummed, pleased, and they all moved with renewed purpose at the prospect of getting some rest. Ro was almost bouncing as she walked, and by the time they reached the next intersection of major roads, she was a few metres ahead of them. She led the way across the decimated street, towards the least-collapsed of the approaching buildings, and Carol and Steve followed diligently.
The door groaned loudly as they pulled it open, so Steve piled up a few broken bricks in as naturally a looking pile as he could manage. He didn't want to attract any of the other tributes by making noise, but he didn't want to make it obvious that the building wasn't empty, either.
Inside, the building was mostly dark. Beams of sunlight filtered through holes in the roof, but it just served to highlight the thick dust swirling through the air. Steve eyed it with heavy misgivings, and pulled up the collar of his jacket to cover his mouth and nose. It was unlikely that his asthma would start to play up, but he wasn't going to take the risk.
Carol left his side almost immediately, choosing to hop towards a sink embedded in the wall. She twisted the tap, but nothing happened. Steve sighed as he watched, having been hoping that it would somehow miraculously work.
Ro folded her legs as she sat down, slumping against a wall, and they followed her lead. For a minute, there was no sound – just silent appreciation of the fact that they were finally able to rest after having been on the move almost all day.
The silence didn't last long, though. Carol cleared her throat, and they both turned to look at where she was sitting with her hurt ankle stretched in front of her. "We need to make a plan," she admitted, staring at the roof.
Ro groaned. "Can't we just stay here for a while?" she asked. Steve glanced over to find that she was already looking at him, her eyes wide in as pleading a look as the little girl could probably manage.
"No, she's right. We need a plan," he said, and shoved himself into a more upright position as he nodded at Carol. They looked at him quizzically, eyeing the fabric around the lower half of his face. Steve shrugged and spoke again. "Let's make a list of what we need, and figure out how to get it. Then we can rest until tomorrow morning."
"Food," Ro offered instantly.
"We also need water," Carol said. She reached over to drag her backpack closer, and rifled through it until she could pull out the bottle of water. What little was left sloshed inside, but it was a depressingly small sound.
"Noted," Steve said, "Any ideas where we can find food, Ro?"
She shrugged. "We could try hunting for it," she told them. "I saw a couple of deers while we were walking."
"You did?" Carol questioned, her eyebrows lifted high. "When? I only saw rats."
"Down the side streets, mostly," Ro answered. "And only the ones that were close to those old parks. I think we scared them off the main road, and they always ran away when they saw me."
"Okay, so we'll go hunting," Steve agreed, his voice muffled slightly by his jacket collar. "What about water?"
"We could try to find a river," Carol suggested. "But I haven't seen one since we started walking, and it probably wouldn't be clean water, either..."
"And we don't have any iodine," Steve finished her sentence with a sigh.
"Maybe we could find a water pipe?" Ro guessed. "This city probably used to have running water. We could make a hole in one of the pipes and drink it."
"How would we find the pipes, though? The ones close to the surface would be broken," Carol argued.
"There might be bottles of water in a building, somewhere," Steve suggested. "It's a long shot, but maybe something that the Gamemakers would do. We have to survive long enough to kill each other, after all," he added, with dark humour. Ro's lips twitched, but Carol's mouth only turned down slightly.
"I guess," she said finally, and glanced away. "We can look out for it, anyway."
"Yeah, okay." Steve frowned, a thought suddenly occurring to him. "But I don't know if we can accomplish this before night falls – and I really don't want us to be out when it's dark outside." It went without saying that the night belonged to the Career pack; traditionally, it was their hunting time.
"Let's split up," Ro said, and they looked at her. "Carol can search the buildings around here for water, and Steve and I can go hunt for food. Then we meet back here just before dark."
It was a good idea, Steve knew, even though his skin crawled at the suggestion of splitting up. Carol could barely walk, let alone run – she wouldn't be able to take down any kind of animal. But the pathways between buildings were small enough that she could cling to the sides and keep off her injured foot.
He didn't want to leave her alone, though. But Steve hated the idea of sending Ro off to gather food alone… and if he left the two together, they'd probably fight – Carol was still holding a grudge, after all – and he didn't want the sound of an argument to attract other tributes.
Leaving Carol by herself was the least of three evils, but that didn't mean that he had to like it.
Then again, the choice wasn't really up to him. But Carol jerked her chin in a nod, and pushed herself shakily to her feet. "Okay," she agreed. "But if I come back to the rendezvous and you guys aren't here, I'm going to find shelter in another building," she warned them. "You should do the same, too. If any one of us is found by the Careers, they'll guess that the others are in the area."
"Good idea, Carol," Steve said. "But if one of us somehow manages to miss the rendezvous for non-tribute related reasons, leave a sign so that we can find each other in the morning."
Once they'd all agreed, the trio split up. Carol was left with just her water bottle so that she could move around easier, while her two companions took her backpack, spear and Steve's shield, since Ro was insistent that he could use it to knock out some prey. He'd reluctantly agreed.
Ro led the way towards one of the old and overgrown parks that she'd spotted earlier, which they hoped would be home to some animals. As they drew closer, the local flora started to really make itself known; the once neat and trimmed parks spreading into thick open forests. Trees pushed up stubbornly from cracks in the sidewalk, and vines tore apart old cars lying abandoned on the streets. The same shrubs that a long-dead population had appeared to have tamed now climbed free of their broken restraints, determinedly clinging to life despite their bone-dry homes.
Steve's fingers itched. He tried to memorize the sight, of nature reclaiming what had once been hers alone, so that he could recreate it on paper if he lived to get the chance. All he could do was shake his head in wonder, and try not to think of it as some kind of metaphor.
"So, how are we going to do this?" Ro asked finally, jerking Steve out of his thoughts. She'd perked up at the thought of finally getting some food inside her empty stomach, but managed to restrain herself enough to keep pace by Steve's side. He glanced down at her, and the sight punched him in the gut. Afternoon sunlight scattered around Ro's white hair in a halo of light, her big eyes squinting against the brightness; a child of the sun trotting faithfully by his side.
Steve forgot what he was going to say. Once again, he tried to take a mental picture – he could already imagine the way he'd capture her portrait, colourful lines spreading onto a canvas beneath his skilful hand. It struck him, suddenly, how he'd never been hit quite so strongly with the urge to draw as he'd already felt several times inside the arena. But what could Steve say?
The arena was beautiful; and he hated that something so lovely would soon be drenched in blood.
"Are you alright, Steve? Your face looks weird." Once again, Ro snapped Steve out of his own head. The sudden return to reality made his head spin.
"What? Yeah, I'm fine," he answered, and tried to shake off the dizziness. It had, all of a sudden, become abundantly clear to Steve that he was now one of the major people responsible for if this tiny girl lived or died.
"Did you hear what I asked?" she reminded him.
Steve looked forward and frowned, returning the task at hand. "Yeah. But do what? Catch the deer, you mean?"
"Deer, rabbit, rat – does it matter?" Ro waved her hand dismissively. "Food is food."
Steve pulled a face, and Ro's giggle floated across the street. "We are not eating rats."
"That wasn't the point," she said, but there was a tiny smile twisting her lips. "How are we going to catch anything?"
"I don't know," he answered honestly. "I guess we'll just… chase it down? Throw the spear and hope we don't miss?"
"Throw your only weapon away?" Ro echoed. "That would be pretty dumb."
Steve huffed, pretending to be more offended by her insult than he really was. Just as he'd guessed, she snorted with muffled laughter at his miffed expression. He hid a grin – it was pretty easy to keep Ro distracted; maybe because he had so much practice with Bucky's little sister, Rebecca. She and Ro were the same age, he knew, and it wasn't so hard to imagine that it was Becca beside him instead-
-whoa, he snapped, cutting off the thought almost as quickly as it had come. That was a dangerous line to go down.
But… it made Steve start to think of other things, too. Something pinched his ribcage, sharply, and he had to suck in a breath. Right now, were he and Ro onscreen? Was his family watching them – his mother, Bucky, and Peggy? Was the Barnes family praying for Steve to come home, knowing that it could have easily been their son and brother in his place?
Steve glanced down, his gaze sliding to the right. Was Ororo's family watching them, right now? Well, perhaps family wasn't the right word for what she had – but the group of kids she'd told him about yesterday seemed a substitute of sorts. And of course, she and T'Challa had been pretty close – maybe his family were still wiping their eyes, but while turning their hope for his survival into hope for hers.
Making guesses didn't really serve a purpose, Steve knew. Maybe they weren't onscreen at all, which was likely considering they weren't really doing much. Somewhere, there would be more interesting things happening – tributes facing off, or – if they were lucky – a fight for dominance throughout the Career pack. It was fairly common, after all, though Steve reluctantly admitted that it rarely happened on the second day.
"Got any better ideas?" he asked instead, glancing down at Ro.
She was twisting her fingers together nervously, and after a second she looked up to meet his gaze. "Maybe," she offered hesitantly, as though she'd had a bright idea but now thought it might be stupid.
"Yeah?" Steve lifted an eyebrow, and Ro caved.
"Well… you know that battery we found yesterday?" she asked, and Steve nodded. It was currently sitting in Carol's backpack, weighing heavy on Steve's shoulders. "I've been thinking about it. Um, so, before the Games started, I went up to that boy from Three-"
"Tony Stark," Steve offered, and she nodded quickly.
"Yeah, him. Anyway, you know how he's good with technology and stuff? Well, I asked him if he could show me some stuff, and he did. And it was kind of cool, actually – um; anyway, that's not the point. I mean, I don't know a lot, but I was thinking we could make some kind of trap."
"Made from electricity?" Steve asked, to clarify, and Ro blew out a breath. She nodded. "Okay," he said, slowly, and his forehead started to crease. Ro was watching him a little worriedly, but Steve was only lost in thought. "We'd need some kind of cables or wire," he told her, "to actually make the trap. Right?"
"Yeah!" His agreement had seemed to energise her, and Ro bounced next to him. "But I've already thought about it. I mean, all these houses have lights inside them, even though they're broken, so it clearly used to run on electricity. And I was thinking we could probably find some that haven't degraded too much, and-"
"I don't think that's necessary," Steve interrupted, and turned to her with a grin. "Thinking of that was pretty clever, Ro. Hell, I'd say it was Game-maker clever."
For a second, she scowled at the perceived insult – but then his meaning hit her and Ro's mouth dropped wide. "You think they'd have left some good cables behind?" she asked.
"Wanna find out?" he offered.
Ro grinned at him, and headed towards the closest house. Steve followed at her heels.
It was almost half an hour before they actually found anything, but Ro's gasp of delight was worth it. They'd been checking all the hiding places that they could think, but it was only once they'd thought more logically that they'd actually found it.
The Gamemakers wouldn't leave such valuable weapons lying around, after all. They'd leave them in the most mundane places, and only the tributes clever enough to look would be able to find them. So it was only once Steve had pushed open the hood of a car that he'd finally found two cables dangling limply from the long-dead battery.
He'd unclipped them quickly, and called for Ro. She'd quickly began searching the other broken-down cars until they'd found a couple of matching cable, and her triumphant grin told him that they were ready to start hunting. Ro had already ripped an old piece of long wire from a broken fence, and as they walked, she explained how it would work.
By the time they actually reached the park, Steve guessed that almost an hour had passed since they'd left Carol. The sun had sunk lower in the sky, and was probably only a couple hours away from disappearing completely. But Ro had explained the next steps pretty thoroughly, so he knew what he had to do, and setting their trap didn't take long.
After examining the surrounding area for a while, Ro and Steve had agreed that it was definitely home to some large animals. It was pretty easy to spot the favoured feeding areas – nibbled leaves strewn across trampled grass left little doubt. Ro strung the wire between two small trees next to the bush, hoping that it was the direction that the animals would come from. Then she clipped two of the cables to either end, with the other end of one cable attached to the battery, which Ro hid behind the tree. Then she created a long line of cable on the other side, draping it carefully across the ground until it could reach the battery without straining. Steve helped by digging a small trench into the ground with his hands and hiding the cable inside, patting dirt over it to hide it. He tried to spread some leaves over it, too, so the disturbed ground wouldn't be too noticeable.
When it was done, he stood back and examined it critically. The thin wire was almost invisible where it hung between the two trunks, and an animal probably wouldn't spot it. There wasn't any hum to give it away, either; the voltage was too low, he thought.
"What now?" he asked Ro, and she glanced at him.
"Now we hide, and hope something wanders over here," she answered, waving her hands vaguely, and he nodded.
Steve was terrible at hiding, as it turned out. Ro clicked her tongue when he climbed a tree, and burst out laughing when he tried to crawl inside a bush with surprisingly sharp branches. After watching him struggle to extricate himself for a few minutes while swearing under his breath, Ro finally took pity on him.
"Okay, okay," she managed between snorts of laughter. "I'll help you hide."
Ro's version of 'helping Steve hide' really meant that she held the branches aside while he crawled into an even smaller bush. There was a slight hollow in the centre, which was good, even though he had to curl up pretty small. Steve finally settled down and Ro let the branches slide back into place, and then scampered up into a tree.
"Hey," he called out, feigning indignation. "How come I can't hide in a tree?"
Ro's snicker fell from the treetops. "Because I won't fall out," she whispered back.
He sighed loudly in response, just to hear her giggle, but he wasn't really in a position to argue. After that, the two of them fell into silence.
It was a long, long time before anything interesting happened. Steve's muscles had started to seize, and serious cramps were setting into his twisted legs, but he hadn't moved. A few mice and rats had scuttled past his hiding spot, including the slightly more notable appearance of some rabbits, but there were no deer. At least they knew that his hiding spot worked.
But finally, finally, Steve heard a snuffle and the quiet movement of small hooves. He froze, barely daring to breathe as the animal drew closer.
A few, torturous minutes later, it finally came into view. It was smaller than he thought deer were meant to be – but then, he'd never had a good look at one before. There were no deer inside District Five, and the few that he'd spotted outside the fence had usually run away at the sight of him.
The deer – and he saw now that it was a female, without any curving antlers – took a few slow steps forward, her ears flicking. Slowly, Steve looked upwards, but Ro was nowhere to be seen. He could only guess that she was watching with bated breath, just as he was.
The doe got closer, and closer, until Steve thought his chest might collapse from the lack of air. But then, finally, her chest brushed against the wire, and the doe jerked, a shrill sound of surprise escaping its slack mouth.
Steve waited for it to fall – but it didn't. Its knees buckled and he started to rise, but then the deer climbed back up and bolted. It made a sound almost like a scream as it disappeared, and the sound cut at Steve's chest.
"Steve!" Ro yelled, and something fell through the trees. For a bizarre second, he thought it was the girl herself – but no, Ro had simply tossed down the spear. "Go get it!"
Steve exploded out of the bush – really, there was no other word for it. He didn't even notice the scratches left on his skin as he snatched the weapon obediently and took off in a sprint. The doe had left a path, crashing through the undergrowth, and his chest burned pleasantly as he raced down it. The air had gotten cold, and he relished the heat that started to pump through his blood.
Ahead, the doe was still making loud noises, and Steve guessed that it was in a lot of pain. But he knew that he had to kill it, and quickly – who knew who else was out here, being drawn towards them by the loud animal's cries?
Steve crashed through the forest. His boots had good grip; he didn't fall even as he swung himself around trees and launched over fallen trunks. The deer was slowing down, clearly more injured than it had appeared. As soon as it came into view, Steve changed his grip on the spear and whipped his hand forward.
It was a clear shot, and the spearhead sliced into the deer's neck. Steve looked away as he drew closer, unwilling to examine the wound closely.
The doe died quickly, though – a fact for which Steve was grateful. He yanked the spear out, quickly wiping the blood on the grass. By the time he stood up, Ro had caught up. He glanced at her, but she was looking at the deer on the ground. Steve cleared his throat, successfully drawing her gaze away – she was too young and he didn't want her to see something like that, even if it wasn't that gruesome.
"Now what?" he asked.
Ro shrugged. "Take it back to Carol, I guess," she offered.
Steve looked down at the deer, and sighed.
Having a dead animal slung around his neck wasn't pleasant, but Ro was aware enough of Steve's discomfort that she kept up a steady stream of chatter to distract him. It was slightly awkward, considering that Ro wasn't particularly chatty, but the conversations that they'd had both on the way to the park and the previous day made it slightly more relaxed. She collected thick, dry branches as they walked, tucking them underneath her arm.
By the time they made it back to the building where they'd left Carol, the sun was starting to dip below the horizon. It sent golden rays of light across the buildings, softening the harsh city landscape. Steve's grip tightened around the deer's legs, and he tried hard not to wish that they were his favourite art pencils instead.
He kept an eye out for any messages or signs scrawled on the side of the building, but it was clear. When they stepped through the threshold, Carol was waiting with a smile.
She raised an eyebrow when she saw what Steve was carrying, and the wound on the deer's neck. "Nice shot," she complimented him. "How far away was the deer?"
He grinned, feeling his cheeks pink. "About three metres," he answered. "And I was aiming for its chest."
Ro giggled behind him, and Carol hid a smile. "Impressive," she said wryly.
"What about you?" he asked, noting that she didn't have her water bottle with her. Had she lost it?
Carol's grin grew. "Follow me," she told them cryptically, and lead the way out of the room.
Ro ducked under her arm to help the older girl walk properly, and it was a testament to Carol's good mood that she didn't resist. As the trio made their way through the streets with the sun slowly falling behind them, she refused to mention where she was taking them. But her excitement was infective, and it wasn't long before Steve's chest felt light and a grin was spreading across his face.
Finally, Carol hopped towards the door of one of the taller buildings. Steve glanced up at where it stretched into the sky, looking at the identical shape of each balcony. "Is this an apartment building?" he asked. He'd seen a few of them in the Capitol, though they were a lot grander than this drab building.
"Yeah, I think so," Carol answered. They entered the lobby, which was surprisingly intact, and Steve had barely taken a step towards the elevator when Carol shook her head. "Elevator's broken," she told him. "We have to take the stairs."
She led them to a small door at the back of the room, and Ro pushed open the door before the pair stepped through. Steve took one last look at the ratty, dust-covered couches before he shook his head and followed.
The stairs weren't steep, but there were lots of them. After a few flights, even Steve started to feel winded. "You climbed these by yourself?" he asked, wheezing against the tightness in his chest. It was pretty dusty, too, and he hoped that it was just the climb and not his asthma playing up again.
"It took me a while," she admitted, glancing down at him from a few steps above. "But I had a feeling that it would be worth it."
No kidding, he wanted to say. Carol's excitement had gotten his hopes up for wherever they were heading, and now he knew for sure that they'd be safe – what kind of self-respecting tribute would climb all these flights of stairs on the random chance that they'd stumble across someone else? Especially considering this apartment building was one of many, and not even the most notable.
Carol stopped on what he thought was the fifth level. Ro dragged her over to the door and leaned against it until it fell open, then stumbled through. Steve followed with a muffled groan, hoping that the site was close – his back muscles were starting to cramp, with the combined weight of Carol's backpack and the deer. Ro had taken the spear in an effort to lighten his burden, but it hadn't helped much.
He followed the two girls down three different hallways until Carol stopped in front of a surprisingly intact door. Steve waited for her to push it open, but she turned to look at him. "It's off its hinges," she explained. "You're gonna have to pick it up and move it."
There was no way he could do that with all the added weight on his back. Steve leaned down and let the deer gently slide onto the floor, before slipping off his backpack and taking a step forward. The door was just leaning against the inside frame, so he wrapped his fingers around the sides and just picked it up, shuffling until he could lean it against the wall. His muscles ached in protest and Steve gritted his teeth, hoping that that would be the last strenuous act for a while.
"Thanks," Carol muttered absently, moving into the room. Steve quickly grabbed the backpack and picked up the deer once more, before following the two girls into the room.
"Wow," Ro murmured, and Steve echoed a similar sound of surprise. Somehow, Carol had found a stash of canned food, and she'd stacked it against the wall, complete with one rusted knife and her two-litre water bottle, which was completely full. In actuality, it wasn't a lot of food – but to someone that hadn't eaten for two days, it was a veritable bounty.
"I feel weak at the knees," Steve joked lightly, and he turned to grin at a beaming Carol. "I can't believe you found all of this!"
"I found them in the storeroom for some old shop. But that's not even the best bit," she added smugly. "Hey, Ro? Go turn on the taps in the bathroom."
Steve's jaw almost dropped as Ro rushed to do her bidding. A second later, there was a screech of metal and then the unmistakable sound of water flowing from a tap. He turned, again, to gape at his district partner.
"The shower works, too," she told them, and Steve honestly could have kissed her.
Ro took the first shower as Carol skinned and began to cut the deer carcass into strips of meat, with Steve standing watch down the end of the hall. Some windows had been broken in a few of the other apartments, and Steve prowled through the rooms to glance at different sections of the street below. He didn't see anyone else, but that was no guarantee that they weren't there.
Eventually, Carol called him back into the main room. "Here," she said, thrusting a roughly hewn block of meat towards him. "Cut that into strips while I build a fire."
"Shouldn't we do that somewhere else?" he asked, reluctantly taking the knife. "The light could be visible from the streets."
"Then I'll cover the window," Carol said with a shrug. "Don't worry about it, Steve."
Carol cleared a wide section of the tiled floor, making sure that there was nothing around for the fire to catch onto. Then she started to build the actual fire, breaking the branches to create smaller ones, and even using her spearhead to peel off some wood shavings as kindling. It looked impressive once she was done, despite the lack of actual flames.
Steve watched in silence as she took the two of the last branches, after hanging the sheets from the bed across the windows. She'd sat for a few minutes and carved a small hole into the thicker of the two, which she now placed the end of the smaller one into. When she started rubbing the stick between her palms, spinning it quickly, Steve raised his eyebrow.
He raised it even higher when, surprisingly, she managed a spark. Carol moved quickly to feed it some kindling, and it caught alight within seconds. She moved it to the centre of her woodpile, and coaxed it into bigger flames until the whole pile was crackling.
"Wow," Steve said, impressed. Carol smiled at him, her cheeks dimpling. "How'd you learn to do that?"
In a second, her good mood was gone. Carol's smile dropped from her face, and she broke his gaze. "Same way I learned to cut up a deer," she answered, and turned away from him.
"Which was?" They'd both grown up in the same district, after all, and Steve couldn't do have of the things that Carol could. She was almost frighteningly capable, kind of like she'd actually trained for this. But that was impossible-
"Drop it, Steve," she snapped, her voice uncharacteristically cold.
Her anger startled him, and he nearly dropped the knife. Steve glanced at her back, which was rigid and straight, and opened his mouth. "Carol-"
The bathroom door creaked open, and a fresh-faced Ro stepped out. She had a wet bed sheet scrunched in her fist – they hadn't found any towels, so they'd had to make do – but at least her skin was dry. She grinned at them both. "Guess what?" she asked.
"What?" Steve answered reflexively.
"The water's actually kind of warm," she told him, grinning, and took a seat on the floor. "Cool fire, Carol."
"Thanks," the blonde muttered. She twisted to face them, and tipped her chin at him. "Go take a shower, Steve."
"Are you sure?" he asked, ninety-percent certain that she was just trying to get rid of him. "I could help you cook the meat-"
"It's fine. Go."
Well, he wasn't going to argue. Steve clambered to his feet, and picked up one of the sheets he'd stripped from another room. Ro's gaze flickered between the two District Five tributes until he shut the bathroom door behind him.
Steve stripped quickly, eager to be under the spray. He was covered in dirt, and dust, and even a little bit of blood – he just wanted it off of his skin, already. The water stung the little cuts he'd gotten from the bush earlier that day, but Steve didn't really mind. It was a small price to pay for the relief it gave his tired muscles, the warm water sluicing over his skin.
They didn't have any soap, but Steve cleaned himself as best he could before stepping out. He'd tried to wash his hair, too, but he'd mostly succeeded in just tangling his fingers in the wet strands. With his body warm from the shower, he was too tired to care. In fact, it was probably just his empty stomach keeping him awake anymore – and he didn't think it would actually be much of an obstacle if he just lay down and closed his eyes.
He dried himself off quickly, and stepped back into his old clothes with a grimace. It felt kind of unclean, even though he knew that they weren't particularly dirty. It wasn't as though Steve had spent his time rolling in mud, but still.
When he stepped into the other room, the smell of cooking meat seemed to punch him directly in his empty stomach. Steve leaned against the doorframe and sighed. "That smells amazing," he admitted, and Ro grinned.
"Alright, outta the way. It's my turn," Carol said, and brushed past him as she hopped into the bathroom with another sheet bundled in her arms. Steve stepped out of her way and she closed the bathroom door with a faint click.
Steve settled down next to Ro, and she handed him one of the sticks that she'd collected. "Carol said that we're just going to cook the meat," she said. "She wanted to dry it out and make some jerky, but that would take more time than we have."
Steve nodded, and copied the way that Ro had weaved the strips of meat onto the stick before holding it above the flames. "I think we should open some of the cans for dinner," he said after a moment. "Why not make it a real celebration?"
Ro handed him her stick, and bounced to her feet. "What ones should we open?" she asked, peering at the labels. "There's pineapple, fruit salad, sausages, beetroot, beans, vegetarian sausages-"
"Pick two of your favourites," Steve suggested with a shrug.
She came back to him with one can of sliced beetroot and one of the vegetarian sausages. Steve gave her the two sticks – now with different strips of meat, since the others had cooked – and picked up Carol's rusted knife. It could barely be called a weapon, and he had a feeling that they'd be leaving it behind – but for now, it would do.
He stabbed it towards the edge of the first can. It took a few tries before the blade finally pierced the metal, and caused an absolutely horrific sound as he dragged it in a circle, but Steve finally managed to get the lid off. He placed it down next to the fire, and set to opening up the second.
By the time he had, Carol was stepping out of the bathroom. Ro and Steve had waited for her, by silent agreement, before eating. Steve had even laid out the strips of cooked deer-meat onto his shield as though it were a plate, and with the two cans standing next to the platter, it almost resembled a real dinner.
Carol's smile was faint, but real. It seemed as though her earlier pleasant mood had returned. "Looks good," she commented, settling down opposite Steve. "What are we eating, chef?"
The question was clearly meant for him, but Steve raised an eyebrow at Ro instead. She cleared her throat delicately, willing to play along, and spread her hands. "For our dining pleasure," she began in a tittering, high voice – and Steve had no doubt that she was mimicking one of her Capitol stylists, because her accent was perfect – "we have fresh beetroot slices, delightfully roasted vegetarian sausages, and succulent strips of, um, deer."
Steve burst out laughing as she finished, and Carol joined in after a moment. Ro managed to keep a straight face for only a few more seconds before dissolving into giggles, too. Maybe it was simply because they had crossed the line from exhausted to hysterical, but Steve didn't care. The tributes needed a little lightness in their life.
The laughter lasted for only a few minutes – mostly because the resultant pain in their lower stomachs only reminded them of how hungry they were. After that, the three of them dug into the food with the fire warming them at their side, and ate without abandon. There was more than enough food for all three of them – and for the first time in days, they felt full again.
Later, when they'd crushed the fire and moved into a different room – one with no broken windows and a lock on the door, which Steve had insisted on – Steve offered to take the first watch while Carol and Ro slept, after dragging two extra mattresses onto the floor. They'd agreed, their eyes closed before he'd even finished talking.
After that, Steve went to go sit in one of the apartments further down the hall – one with a broken window. He stripped one of the moth-eaten blankets from the bed and dragged one of the large armchairs over, positioning it so that he could sit down and still see the sky outside.
He'd wanted Carol and Ro to rest, of course, but he had also wanted to shield them from watching the nightly death-recap. He hadn't heard any cannons during the day, so it would likely just be repeats of the already-deceased tributes. In all honesty, Steve didn't know why they had to be reminded of who had died – every time he closed his eyes, their portraits glowed in his mind. It would have been impossible to forget their faces.
As he waited for the tributes' portraits to light up the sky, a cold breeze snaked in through the window and Steve wrapped the old blanket tighter around himself. Now, separated from his allies and without the light of a fire, it was difficult not to let the cold and dark night affect him. He could feel its misery seeping into his mind already.
The movement made the pin on his jacket's left shoulder scrape against the material, and Steve glanced over, grateful for the distraction. He didn't think about his token much, mostly because it was out of his sight. But now the dim silver metal winked in the starlight, and Steve glanced away. His throat felt too tight.
Bucky had given him that pin, a few weeks before the reaping. Steve didn't know where he'd found it, just that it was one of a set – a single wing, and Bucky had the other. He'd laughed and accused Bucky of being sentimental – "What is this, Buck? Some kind of friendship bracelet?"he'd teased – but his friend had only shrugged. "Can't have my guardian angel goin' around without his wings," Bucky had answered. Steve had lifted a single brow. "With only one wing, I'll be going around in circles, Buck. Is that what you want?"
Bucky's reply had been weak compared to his usual witty comebacks – "Shut up, punk." – but thinking back on it now made Steve's chest feel slightly warmer.
It also made him think of how he'd volunteered for this Games, to potentially save Bucky's life. Steve always took care of the important people in his life.
But Ro and Carol felt pretty important to him now, too, Steve realized. But if Steve wanted to make it back to his district alive – and he did – then their days were undoubtedly numbered.
The realisation made him feel awful. So Steve tried to banish it from his mind, and instead slumped in his seat as he waited for the Capitol to remind him which innocent children had already died.
But his isolation didn't last long. Steve heard the quiet scuff of boots against carpet, and glanced up as Ro shuffled into the room. She had her jacket pulled tightly around her, hands fisted into the material.
"Hey," he called quietly. "You shouldn't be awake."
Ro didn't say anything at first, just lifting her shoulders in a small shrug. He watched silently as she walked towards him, her eyes on the ground. "Can't sleep?" he guessed, his voice pitched low.
After a moment, Ro shook her head. "I don't want to," she mumbled finally, not meeting his eyes. "Not yet."
He realized what she was waiting for a moment later, as the young girl's eyes drifted to the night sky. Steve rolled his lips between his teeth, indecisive – and then he shuffled over, creating a small space at his side.
Ro pulled her jacket more closely around herself as he lifted the edge of the blanket, letting her tuck herself in. She settled in next to him quickly, angling slightly so that she could stretch her legs out across his knees. Ro was probably trying to take advantage of his body heat too, not that Steve really minded.
He spoke eventually, but kept his voice soft. "You're waiting to see him, aren't you?"
Ro glanced down, twisting her fingers together. "Yeah," she answered softly. Then she looked up, but not at him – she was double-checking that the Capitol hadn't started the display yet. "It's the only time I'll ever get to see T'Challa again," she told him, stumbling only slightly over the name of her district partner. It made Steve's chest ache.
"You'll see him again, one day," he murmured, watching the young girl as she glanced at him.
"Yeah?" she asked, sounding slightly more hopeful.
"Yeah." Steve didn't know if she was a believer – or if they believed in the same things, even – but he had faith that there was an afterlife, even if it wasn't the one that everyone always pictured.
The pair fell into a companionable silence, turning to watch out of the broken window for the evening recap to begin. There was no sound but their soft breathing, and the occasional flutter of fabric as the cold wind swept lazily around the room. It was quiet, and peaceful, and Steve wanted to think that it could last.
Because it was good. Because, even though they were fighting to the death and at least two of the children currently inside the building were going to die soon, a warm sense of pride still glowed from underneath Steve's ribcage at the fact that they could still have these moments. Even shadowed by cruelty and with death snapping at their heels, a bunch of scared children could still show each other kindness.
It wasn't much, sure, but it was good.
The Capitol hadn't beaten them yet.
Fatalities (In Order)
24: T'Challa, District Eleven Male – Killed by Thor Odinson.
23: Anna Marie Adler, District Eight Female – Killed by Clint Barton.
22: Raven Darkholme, District Ten Female – Killed by James Howlett.
21: Pepper Potts, District Three Female – Killed by Cletus Kasady.
