Chapter 5: Old Wounds, Fresh Salt

With a careful hand, Janus looped the tail end of the silky ribbon through the knot he'd created, forming a delicate pink bow that wrapped around the edges of the box containing Riin's birthday gift. Inside sat a pair of sleek black gloves, fashioned from the finest leather he could find.

He'd made them himself, of course. A challenge, for sure, but a welcome one, compared to the rest that loomed ahead.

He barely had time to admire his handiwork with the ribbon when his front door burst open, and Riin herself came striding into his house, fury and distress emanating from her in waves. Swiftly, Janus tucked the box behind his back, but he needn't have worried; she hardly glanced at him as she stalked straight through his kitchen and out the back door. "Riin? Is everything alright?" he called after her.

No answer except the slam of a door.

Janus frowned, stuffing the gift into a cupboard next to the refrigerator in case Riin found her way back inside.

She wasn't usually this rude of a houseguest. However, there'd been a certain edge to her behavior ever since the unfortunate conversation they'd shared about the price of Victory, clipping the length of her fuse shorter each day.

With a sigh, he followed her trail into his yard, half-wondering if somebody had been stabbed.

Riin was hard to miss. She'd picked up a handful of the throwing knives from the storage bench where he usually kept them, chucking the blades with wild abandon at the target range he'd set up long ago to practice with Zhara. Janus made no effort to move closer; frustration had clearly taken hold of her, guiding her aim like a broken compass. "I know I didn't teach you to throw like that," he said, hoping to break the tension a bit.

Upon releasing the last knife, Riin shot him a withering look, scowling when it landed blade-first in the grass.

Before she could retrieve the knives, Janus approached, coming to stand by her side. "I don't think throwing knives is what you have on your mind right now," he said evenly. "Happy birthday, by the way."

"Thanks," Riin said tersely, pulling another sleeve of knives from the bench rather than take the time to get the others. She took aim again, mindful of his presence with a sideways glance.

"Much better," Janus praised when her knife hit the board this time.

He watched in silence as she threw, hoping she'd blow off enough steam to speak when she was ready.

His patience was soon rewarded. "Did you know my mother was a fucking Career?" She paused to throw another knife and Janus's brows raised in surprise. "Apparently, she was supposed to go into the arena with you." Riin gave him a look before releasing her next knife. "Oh, and you murdered her best friend, which is why she hates you."

Well. That would explain a lot of things. "I did not know that," he said honestly. "District Two, I assume?"

Riin nodded.

"Hm." The sinking feeling in his stomach told him he'd have to have a chat with Valdora about this, sooner rather than later. Might as well get it over with sooner. He'd be at the Kres's later tonight for Riin's birthday dinner anyways. "I appreciate you telling me this, but that still doesn't explain why you barged into my house without even a knock," he said with a quirked eyebrow.

"She was a Career," Riin said as if that explained everything. "She never even said anything, or even made the effort to train me or Iden."

Digging through his cache of throwing knives, Janus joined Riin in her quest to brutalize the target board, casually flicking a sharpened blade into the bullseye. "She probably didn't think she had to worry," he said neutrally. "And however she did choose to raise you, it was enough, no?"

Riin huffed. "It would've helped."

"That's not the real reason you're upset, is it?"

Her fist clenched around the handle of her knife. "She gets mad at me for everything!" Riin seethed. "And then she tries to act like it's all my fault, but I didn't do anything wrong! I don't know what she expects from me!" With a grunt of effort, she flung the knife at the board, her eyes glinting dangerously when it hit the mark.

Janus remembered the first couple months after his own return, the cautious hesitance in his parents' attitudes towards him as they tried to figure out how to deal with their teenaged son-turned-murderer. It had stung, of course, though he couldn't blame them. But they'd never outright expressed anger towards him, neither for his behavior nor for what he'd done in the arena. Perhaps they'd been too afraid.

"I think," he said, tossing another knife at the target, "that she's a bit out of her depth." Riin scoffed, but he continued. "Maybe she's not handling these changes well, but that doesn't mean she doesn't love you. I'm willing to bet that she's still in shock about your win." Especially considering her past, Janus thought gravely. While he himself had no firsthand experience on the intensity of Career training, he'd seen enough of them in action to know their potency. To watch your own child become just as lethal on her own accord…

The younger Victor bristled in anger. "Yeah, a real fucking shock! She gave up on me!" Riin spat, her voice rising to a shout. "They all did." Emotion choked the volume from her tone, and Janus watched as she slowly sank to her knees at the weight of her words. Savagely, she ripped clumps of grass from the dirt, unable to look him in the eye.

She must be referring to her final farewells, he realized. She'd never told him about what they'd said, and he'd never asked. Maybe he should have.

Ignoring the popping in his bones and the dampness of the grass, Janus sat down next to her. "Their mistake," he said shortly. Riin shot him a glare, and he shrugged. "Can you forgive them?"

"Should I?"

"It's up to you."

Riin went back to picking at the grass, digging ruts in the dirt with a throwing knife. "I think…" She trailed off, shaking her head. "I don't think I'm mad at Iden," she said finally. "He's the only one I can really talk to. Him and you."

"You're lucky to have him," Janus said. And she was. Judging from personal experience, a friend — or lack thereof — made all the difference for a new Victor.

Riin fell quiet again; he could see that she was trying not to bite her lip.

On the far side of the yard, a flash of white-grey fluff weaseled through the gap between two fence posts: Morpheus the cat, in pursuit of a stray butterfly. Riin tensed as she saw it too, and Janus caught her fingers adjusting their grip on her knife. "No."

She gave him a small half-smile. "I wasn't going to."

Janus let out a sigh of annoyance, though he didn't really mean it. The two of them watched the ragdoll cat twist and bat at the air after the floating insect with expressions of mild amusement. "So, what would you like to do for your birthday, Riin?" he asked.

"Hm," she said, fiddling with her knife. "Do you think Hiro would let me beat the shit out of him?"

Janus chuckled dryly. "And here I thought you'd want to see a movie, or go shopping."

"You'd take me shopping?"

"If you'd like."

Before Riin could respond, the back door swung open, revealing his daughter's questioning face, a half-finished sweater dangling from the knitting needles in her hands. "Hey, Dad, I was wondering if — oh, hi Riin — I was wondering if you could help me with this one stitch."

With as much grace as he could muster, Janus pulled himself to his feet, dusting flecks of grass from his pants. Riin stood as well, picking up her set of knives again. He gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder before following Zhara inside. "You know knitting isn't my specialty, but I'll see what I can do…"

After a couple of minutes painstakingly untangling the snarl in Zhara's stitches, he pulled her aside, out of sight from the windows facing the backyard. "Zhara, I need to ask a small favor of you," he said seriously.

She tilted her head, her large brown eyes widening in curiosity. "Alright, shoot."

"I need you to look after Riin for a bit," he said.

"What, like babysit her?" Zhara said with a lighthearted laugh. "I thought that was your job."

"Not like that," he clarified. "Just some light supervision, especially while she's playing with knives."

Zhara shrugged in assent, and the two of them headed outside where the girl in question had resumed her task of tracing the outline of the bullseye (Morpheus had thankfully seated himself on the wooden storage bench, well outside of throwing range). Riin briefly glanced over her shoulder as they appeared, and her next knife landed straight in the center ring with a solid thunk. "Well done, Riin," he said as she turned towards them with a grin. "Forgive me, but I will be right back."

"Where are you going?" Riin asked suspiciously.

Janus raised an eyebrow. "It seems your mother and I are long overdue for a conversation."

Riin frowned. "What, now?"

"I won't be long," Janus said, glancing between the two girls. I hope.

With that, he left them to their knives, grabbing a thicker jacket on his way out on the off chance that Valdora didn't let him through the door. The wind picked up as he trudged across the green; hopefully Zhara would lend Riin an extra jacket. Heaving a sigh, he braced himself mentally before knocking on the door to Riin's mansion.

Not a minute later, Valdora answered, her expression laced with concern. "Riin, I— oh, it's you."

"Yep."

She glared at him, a look so often mirrored on her daughter's face. "Well. Now I know where Riin went," she said darkly. "Come to apologize, I assume?"

"No, not really."

A flash of anger marred Valdora's features. "Oh, is that so? And you have the audacity to think you're welcome here?"

Janus smiled neutrally. "Audacity is one of my finer traits. May I come inside?"

Valdora started at him incredulously, then stepped aside with a scoff. Janus followed her into the house with a polite nod, deliberately ignoring her hostility. "What the hell are you here for, anyways?" she snapped. "I assume Riin told you everything."

"Indeed," he confirmed, taking a seat on one of the armchairs in the parlor. He didn't quite know how to bring up exactly what Riin had just confessed to him about her frustrations with her mother, and he didn't know if he should, either. Sometimes, a third party interference could only worsen the situation.

Valdora shook her head in helpless exasperation. "She's mad that I didn't train her for the Hunger Games," she said, her tone disbelieving.

"Perhaps you should have," Janus suggested unhelpfully.

She glared at him again, eyes like daggers. "Oh, and I suppose your daughter is trained like a Career?"

He shrugged nonchalantly. "Hardly, but I at least made sure she picked up knife throwing as a hobby," he said, doing his best to keep his tone neutral.

"Now you're going to lecture me on how to raise my child?"

If need be. No matter his dislike of matters regarding the Games, Zhara had taken priority; now, he couldn't help but wonder whether Valdora's bitterness regarding her own failure had clouded her judgement. "Zhara's chances of getting picked were completely dependent on my behavior in the Capitol. Her hobbies were a precaution." He folded his hands, meeting Valdora's eyes. "Obviously, the probability of Riin being reaped was small, but this isn't District Two."

Valdora held his gaze for a minute before conceding defeat. "God, if only it were," she muttered, almost wistfully. "The entire point of the Career system," she said forcefully, "is so people like Riin never have to even be in the arena."

Janus bit back an impolite laugh. "I thought the point was that people like Riin never come out," he said, unable to hide the scathing sting of his tone.

"Say what you will, but District Two's twelve year-olds never come face-to-face with people like you," she shot back.

"No, they just grow into people like me." He met her stare before shaking his head. "You know what, this isn't important right now. We need to talk about your daughter."

Valdora folded her arms, a scathing look on her face. "What about my daughter?"

"She needs help, Valdora," Janus said seriously. "She won't get it from the Capitol, but at least she could get it from you."

For a second, she seemed ready to snap at him again, but the anger drained slowly from her face. "I don't know how," she admitted, her gaze drawn to the window, towards his house across the way. "She used to be so easy to deal with, but now... She gets so demanding and violent so quickly, and I don't know what to do. It's almost like she's a completely different person."

Janus couldn't blame her. None of the parenting books he'd bought when he'd first gotten Zhara had a chapter for 'What to do if Your Child Wins the Hunger Games'. "You can't expect her to come back the same," he said gently.

A mirthless laugh escaped her lips. "Of course not, but I never realized she was capable of this," she said, running a distressed hand through her hair. "And not just the arena; everything. The way she treats me and Hanada, and that girl Cosima…" Valdora paused, exhaling sharply to steady herself. "I think about what she did to that boy from District Thirteen, and I… I don't know where my little girl went." Her voice cracked, which Janus politely pretended not to notice.

"I'd be concerned if you weren't worried," he said with a grimace.

"Sometimes she seems almost prideful about it," Valdora continued. "Which, don't get me wrong, that's how she's supposed to feel, but…" She trailed off, probably not wanting to say something potentially incriminating, even in her own house. Smart. "I should be glad that she doesn't hate herself, but is that normal?" Valdora asked, her voice laced with concern. "Did you ever — and I'm sorry to get personal here — but did you ever feel guilt or self-hatred at all? Because I know I do. Hell, two years ago we hanged that crazy rebel terrorist, and I can still see the look in his eyes before I go to sleep."

Janus almost wanted to laugh, but he didn't. "I hope that's a rhetorical question," he said, and Valdora grimaced apologetically. He continued. "In order to actually win the Hunger Games you need a severe sense of self-preservation," he said. "For Riin… I think this is how she protects herself from the pain of guilt."

Valdora frowned. "Is that healthy?"

"I have no idea. Probably not." He shrugged under her glare. "Better than turning to alcohol and drugs."

"She's fourteen, Janus." He raised an eyebrow. "Fifteen. Whatever." Her eyes widened suddenly, and she clasped a hand over her mouth. "Oh my god. Fuck."

Janus's brow furrowed in confusion.

"The Victors, Janus," she said, her tone almost frantic. "They-they told us what happens after you win, but I forgot until now. And Riin… Fuck, what am I going to tell her?"

Janus felt his heart sink into the pit of his stomach. "She knows, Valdora."

"What?!"

He recoiled at her tone, sitting up straighter in his chair.

"Why the hell didn't you say anything to Hanada or I?" Valdora hissed, her eyes round with furious concern.

"Do you plan on telling him?"

She pulled her gaze away, still simmering. "Fair point," she said, rubbing her temple with her fingertips. "God, what are we going to do?"

Janus shifted in his seat. "Not much we can do," he admitted. "Right now, she's too young, but I will keep an eye on her as best as I can in the Capitol."

"That's reassuring," Valdora said flatly.

"They don't force everyone into it," he said, though his tone didn't dare to hope.

Valdora's eyes narrowed. "I won't let them hurt her again," she said, her voice hard as flint. "If they want my daughter, they'll have to go through me."

They will, Janus thought grimly.

Her stare turned cautiously curious. "Did they ever make you..?" Really overdoing it with the personal questions today, huh? He frowned, and she got the hint. "Right."

"In regards to Riin," he said, hoping to change the subject, "I think the self defense classes are good for her." Nevermind how she almost stabbed her sparring partner, but Valdora didn't need to know that. "She feels more secure when she knows how to protect herself, hence her insistence on knives."

"I don't want her throwing them in the house," Valdora said sternly.

Janus nodded. "Understandable." Even in his house, it remained an outdoor activity only. "Depending on the Victor, some of us can never pick up a weapon again, while others can never be without."

"I've noticed," Valdora said dryly, though not without a touch of humor.

A flash of movement through the window called Janus's attention, and he turned to see the Kres's shiny black car pulling into the driveway, Valdora's husband and son visible through the windshield. "That might be my cue," he said, getting to his feet.

The front door cracked open and Iden's head peeked through. "Is Riin home?" he half-whispered, waving a greeting to the Victor.

"She's at my place right now," Janus said, and Iden beckoned to his father, who hefted a sturdy, brown box from the car. Must be Riin's cake, he thought with a smile. Valdora stood to help her husband with the box, giving both him and Iden a welcoming peck on the cheek.

Exchanging places with them, Janus stepped onto the porch, pulling up the collar of his jacket at the breeze. "I'll send Riin over," he said to Valdora when she reappeared in the doorframe.

Valdora let out a sigh. "If she wants to stay at your place until dinner, I can't really stop her." She paused, glancing over her shoulder where Hanada and Iden were unveiling the cake in the kitchen. "I don't hate you, you know. For killing Rex. I did for the longest time, but…" She glanced away, clearing her throat. "You brought my daughter back, so. Thank you."

Maybe she didn't hate him, but Janus could tell the words were difficult. He nodded curtly. "I'm glad we didn't meet each other in the arena," he said, and she smiled at that.

A/N: Weehoo ! Janus is my favorite c: Not gonna go on about my exams bc that's not what people come to ef ef en for so :P Would luv to have another TrV chapter out soon too; I'd like to think it's almost done at this point hjgh.

(Side note, I can promise you, the only time Two had 12 y/o's in the arena, they weren't the ones running from the other tributes hjhjgf)

Ok see you all uhhh hopefully this week still ? We'll see lmao.

- Nell