CW for death, violence, and slight mentions of child abuse
Millie Oatbratton, District Twelve
Everything about the outside world was overwhelming. The lights were too bright, the people were too loud, and she didn't understand most of what people told her. Her mentor David had attempted to explain to her what the Hunger Games were, but he used words she had never heard before like Districts and Capitol and Dark Days. Millie wondered if the Dark Days were as bad as people said they were. She was used to the dark. It and her mother were the only constants in her life.
"Is she okay?" The boy in the room asked. He was off to the side, so Millie couldn't see him well. All she could focus on was the man, and the bright light that he was shining in her eyes.
"I wouldn't say that." The man said, "She has clearly been neglected for a long time. On the edge of starvation, though I'm used to that. But also underdeveloped pupils, possible delayed cognition..I'm sorry. I'm talking as if you're not in the room. That's very rude of me."
It took Millie a moment to realize that the man was talking to her. Even then, she wasn't sure what to say. Rude was another word she didn't quite understand. Manners, her mentor said, was a set of unspoken rules that people used to make sure nobody hurt anyone's feelings. She told him that maybe they should just be nice to each other, then the rules wouldn't be necessary.
The more she saw of the world, the more she realized that most of the people weren't very nice. "Why do you want me to die?" she asked.
The man paused, clearly unsure what to say to that. But the boy walked towards her so that she could finally see him: tall and clean and friendly.
"No one wants you to die." he said, "And you might not! I wouldn't count you out, but you could totally make it."
"But why do I have to make it? If you don't want me to die, let me go home to my mom."
"Don't you want to bring glory to your district?" The boy asked.
The man cleared his throat and led the boy out of the room for the moment. Millie imagined that he wanted to have a conversation where she couldn't hear. She wished he had just said that to her, because she would have told him that she could hear rather well. She had grown up in the dark, with little use for her eyes. But her ears were a different story. Her ears could pick up the slightest change in her basement, or the stories her mother would mutter under her breath.
"I know you're trying to be helpful, Helios. But these kids didn't grow up like you did. This girl in particular. Try to have some empathy for them. All but one of them are going to die. You're seventeen, right?"
"What does that have to do with anything?"
"A lot of these tributes are your age or younger. Do you want to die?"
"Of course not."
"Neither do they. Try to remember that."
"I will Dr. Heavensbee."
The two of them returned and the older man, Dr. Heavensbee, reached for the light again. Millie flinched.
"Just a little bit longer, then I'm done. I promise." He said. A brief blast of light blinded Millie, but then it was over.
"What now?" she asked.
"Now I get you some medicine. There's only so much I can do, but if you take it now you'll be much healthier by the time you go into the Games."
Millie didn't understand much, but somehow as he said that she understood not just what he said but the implications underneath it: they were making her better just in time to die.
She wanted to go home.
Nate Fowler, District Nine
"So do you have any pre-existing health conditions?" Helios asked. Dr. Heavensbee had allowed him to take over questioning for a moment, and the boy looked like he had just won his weight in chocolate.
"You might have to be more specific." The doctor said, "Health care is unreliable in the Districts. Diagnosis is very rare."
Helios bit his lip, before trying again. Nate found his enthusiasm grating, but found it best not to say anything. It was true that he didn't have a lot of experience with doctors, but he had the feeling that it was a bad idea to get on their bad side.
"Right." Helios continued, "So have you noticed anything...weird about your body? Maybe you get sick easier than other people, or have unexplained pain or blackouts."
"You mean like my episodes?" Nate asked.
"Uh. Probably." Helios said, then looked back to Dr. Heavensbee who nodded, "Yes. What are your episodes like? How often do you get them? How long do they last?"
Nate shifted his weight uncomfortably. He didn't like to talk about this with people. Thanks to a rather public episode a few years back, everyone in District Nine knew about them. Afterwards people treated him differently. Some acted as if he was weak or broken. Others acted like he was dangerous. The only person who treated him the same was Serpentine, who continued his 'training' with the same cruelty he always did. Except after that, it started coming with advice.
"To me it doesn't feel like much. I just sort of black out for a second. But to other people I shake and thrash around and stuff. I actually injured my back once falling on a scythe out in the fields a few years ago. It doesn't last long. A couple minutes at the most. But it gets worse if I'm tired or I haven't eaten."
"That sounds like epilepsy." The doctor said.
"There are so many interesting conditions this year." Helios said, practically jumping up and down, "Like that boy who had narcolepsy. And the girl from the basement. Is medical care really that bad in the districts? That doesn't sound fair."
"Having to fight other children to the death also doesn't sound fair." Nate snapped. The other boy fell silent and directed his eyes to the floor.
"Unfortunately most of the treatment I have for epilepsy is long term. It won't help you to get you started, then not have any during the Games." Dr. Heavensbee went on as if nothing had happened, "Though it sounds like you know your triggers. What effects them."
"I've gotten pretty good at it over the years." Nate agreed.
He hadn't really had a choice but to learn about his episodes. Sometimes they would be gone for months at a time and he could live life normally. But other times, they made it almost impossible to do anything. The Fowlers were not a rich family. He had never starved, but he knew that it was a close thing. His father had an accident slightly before Nate was even born which made him unable to work. His mother took on odd jobs to keep them all afloat, often staying out at odd hours to make sure food was on the table. Nate had helped out as soon as he could out in the fields. But the harder he worked, the more often the episodes would come.
It was only after Serpentine found out about his condition that things started to get better. The man was bitter and angry and abusive. But he claimed that his uncle had 'the shivers', and everything he made Nate try seemed to work. He hated how dependent he became on the peacekeeper, and how he had clearly helped out merely because beating on a boy who was twitching on the floor wouldn't have given him much satisfaction.
For a moment, Nate's mind betrayed him as he wondered if Serpentine truly had been looking after him all this time. But he refused to entertain such a ridiculous notion. The peacekeeper had made his life hell, for no other reason than he could. What he had whispered to him before Nate left was just another form of torment.
"Dr. Heavensbee." Nate said, "Is there a cause for epi...for the thing? My grandmother said it was because she ate red berries when carrying me. Is that true?"
"Probably not. It's a genetic disorder, usually passed down among family members. Do you have any relatives who also have these episodes?"
At that moment, Nate didn't care about getting on the wrong side of doctors. He got up and left the room without another word.
Trent Charr, District Twelve
The doctor was hungover.
He hid it fairly well, and functioned even better, but Trent had spent his whole life living above a tavern. He knew what every stage of alcohol looked like, as well as every stage of alcoholism. Dr. Heavensbee was clearly a heavy drinker, although Trent knew better than to bring it up. It really wasn't any of his business.
Besides, he had his own issues to deal with.
"So where do you live?" Dr. Heavensbee asked conversationally.
"District Twelve."
"I guess I meant more specifically than that. Bombed quarter? New Merchant's district? Little Thirteen?"
"You know a lot about District Twelve." Trent said uneasily.
"I have family there. A daughter. I don't suppose you know someone named Lysistrata?"
Trent shook his head. As a general rule, he kept away from ex capitolites. He was told at school that District Twelve hadn't always been where the capitol sent their rejects and political enemies. Once it had been like any other district, no one out and no one in. But that was before Katniss Everdeen, and the bombing, and the day the rebellion died. After all of that, the Capitol sent their undesirables to the area in order to regrow the population.
When Trent was younger, most of who he knew were ex capitolites. They were often used to excess and were happy to spend their money at his parent's tavern. He grew up sweeping the floor or wiping down tables as he listened to their stories of the Capitol. Sometimes the Capitol sounded like a miraculous place of unparalleled beauty. Sometimes it sounded like a corrupt, wicked place that used distraction to win obedience. But the patrons always had something to say about it.
It was one of these tales that started the fight. Trent had been sweeping happily when a loyalist and an academic ended up too close together. Their disagreement became an argument, then a shouting match, then a brawl. His mother told him to go upstairs as his father went to break up the fight.
He was halfway up the stairs when someone pushed his father against one of his own counters and accidentally bashed in his skull. That caused a panic, and in their rush to leave before peacekeepers came the crowd trampled his mother.
Ever since that day, Trent had done the best he could to avoid Capitol folk.
"Bombed quarter. Old Hob." He said, choking back tears.
Dr. Heavensbee sat down next to him and looked at him with wide, understanding eyes. "Do you want to talk about it?"
Trent shook his head again. He wouldn't even talk about this with the Ladies, who he had known for years. Why would he talk to a Capitolite that he had never met before?
The doctor didn't give up. "I know that life is tough for you right now, and you have no reason to trust me. But I'm not just a doctor. I'm a psychologist. Do you know what that is?"
Trent shook his head again.
"It means I know how to heal people's minds as well as their bodies. I don't know much about you, but I can tell that you're hurting. It's possible I can help."
He didn't believe the man. His parents were dead and he was in the Hunger Games. Nothing could help him. Trent missed his parents, and the Ladies, and even the inn despite everything that had happened there. Everything was wrong and terrible and nothing could change that.
Yet despite himself, he told the doctor everything.
Nixie Slate, District Two
"So if you manage to win, you'll be transported to a room here in the Health Center, where we'll monitor your status and help you transition into post Games life." The doctor said, "Either Helios or I will be here when you wake. Coming back to the Capitol can be jarring, so we're going to try and make it as easy of an experience as possible.
The boy in the corner waved to Nixie, then went back to scribbling something excitedly in his notebook. He was kind of cute, she decided. Perhaps when she came back she'd flirt with him a bit. Her parents always mentioned they would like a doctor in the family, after all.
"You don't have to pretend like that's only an if." Nixie proclaimed, "I'm going to win. I know it. You know it, based on the fact that you're telling me this."
"I tell all of the tributes this information." Dr. Heavensbee said.
"Sure you do, Dax." she said with a wink, "Can I call you Dax?"
"No."
"The thing is Dax, if it weren't against the spirit of things I'd kill everyone in training and spare us all some time and effort. But it is a game, after all. Don't worry. I'll put on a good show."
Nixie was used to people reacting to her with disgust or annoyance. She didn't mind it really, it was just further proof that she was different from other people. But Dr. Heavensbee didn't seem upset at all. He merely looked intrigued.
"There are a lot of careers this year. What makes you think you can beat them all?" He asked.
"Because all of the training in the world doesn't actually prepare you to take a life." Nixie explained, "They might be able to wield a sword, but that doesn't make them killers. Not like me."
She heard Helios gasp, which made her swell with pride. Dr. Heavensbee however was far more neutral. She couldn't quite get a read on him. It was frustration.
"So you've killed before?"
Nixie suddenly realized why this wasn't affecting him as much as it usually did. He treated Victors. All of his patients were killers. She would have to escalate a bit to get the desired reaction.
"My sister." She gloated, "I was only five years old at the time."
"How old was she?" He asked, still unphased. His apathy was starting to bother her.
"She was a baby." she said, "I drowned her in the tub."
"Did you mean to?"
The question took her by surprise. He wasn't supposed to ask that. "It doesn't matter." she said.
"So it was an accident?" The doctor asked, and the sympathy in his eyes was too much for her to stand.
"Don't you dare tell me it wasn't my fault!" she shouted, "I killed her. It was me. And that's why I know I'm going to win. Because it's all I'm good for."
Dr. Heavensbee looked at her and took a deep breath. "Nixie…" He began, but was cut off by a sharp knock on the door.
"Dr. Heavensbee, this tribute's time is up." A woman said, "It's time for the next one."
The doctor looked like he was about to protest, but Nixie walked out the door and refused to look back.
AN: Well this chapter came together quickly. We've got another set of povs done, and revealed a couple secrets. Next chapter is the parade and I'm super excited. Thanks for reading!