Trigger warning: dysphoria in Fete's section.

Chapter 15:

Fete Bayard, 18, District Eight

"Atropa, just stop already. Your plan isn't going to work."

"It will if it's what is meant to be," Atropa ominously tells him, only making him shake his head at his best friend as Devrek leads them into the preparation area. Fete isn't sure what's been more irritating: Atropa insisting she's getting him out alive or Devrek's screeching recorder that has interrupted his naps.

"My cats need you to win for them," Fete gives her a pointed look, hoping she'll finally stop her futile attempt to get him out alive. Will either of them be successful in their attempt to get the other out of the arena alive? Or are they both just going to crash and burn as they try to save the other? "Norman needs…"

He trails off as they enter the area and he finds himself in a pathway with sectioned off areas on either side, the tributes only separated by thin curtains between each other. Some of the careers stare him down as they pass and Fete meets their gaze, letting out a big yawn as he looks at them. He turns back to Atropa, ready for both a nap and to keep convincing her to get home to take care of his cats. "Honestly Atropa, I'll probably just be killed in my sleep by one of these lunatics that have trained to murder children so you might as well get home to Norman."

"Not if I can help!" Devrek turns back around to grin at them, still holding on to that damn ear-piercing recorder. Well, a different recorder than the one from the Reaping since Astrid snapped that one in two on the train, much to Fete's delight. But they were all disappointed when he revealed he had enough recorders for all of them. "I'm going to get you so many sponsors by impressing them with my mad skills."

Fete and Atropa share a look at this, leaving her to snicker and Fete with a smug look on his face. "Sure," he responds sarcastically, "Because they'll want to sponsor us because of you, not because our mentors are the most recent victor, the woman who got said victor home, and a Quell victor."

For a second, Devrek looks hurt by Fete's snark that he just can't hold back anymore – what's the point when he'll be dead soon – until he gets a big grin on his face and points his recorder at Fete. "You got me there," Devrek chuckles at this as he comes to a stop in front of two empty sections at the end. "I guess this is your spot?" He looks around for some sort of indication before turning back to them and shrugging.

Atropa looks at Fete as he tries to ignore the girl across from them raising her voice in fear of needles and trying to squirm away from them, but there's nowhere for her to go. "Alright feet boy, don't sass the stylist too much."

"I will if their work is trash," he responds, not feeling too hopeful about their costumes being good – after all, just look at last year's – before heading into his section and taking a seat, waiting for when people will be over to poke him with needles and do whatever they want. He stares across at the boy from Seven and slowly a terrible pit starts forming in his stomach that he hasn't felt to this extent in months…

Thoughts he does his best to push back manage to find their way into his brain against his will as he stares over at Adam, conflicted about the man. They're the same age. They're both trans. That could have been him – well…not really, but still… His hands slowly move over his flat stomach, hating the thoughts in his brain about what pregnancy would have done to him. Adam glances over at him and tries to give him a smile, which makes Fete feel even worse from the dysphoria twisting away his stomach and bringing him back years ago. He shuts his eyes, trying to block out the dysphoric thoughts he normally is so good at keeping out. "That's not you, Fete," he mutters to himself. "You'll never be in that situation, most likely because you'll be dead in a few days."

Yet despite it all, he almost wants to talk to Adam…one trans man to another. But he can't. Not when he needs to focus on Atropa getting home for his cats. He can't have someone else he wants to win the Games instead… But maybe they could have him as an ally? No, Atropa probably won't want Adam as their ally…

Fete takes a deep breath before adjusting how he sits into a more comfortable position. He tries to keep his thoughts on Atropa and his cats, yet the thought of his best friend dying and leaving his cats alone has him feeling just as shitty as seeing Adam made him feel. He has to get her home to them. It's his dying wish – and he knows he's going to die in that arena. There's simply no way he'll be able to win against everyone here. He's not going to lie to himself about his odds.

"Excuse me."

Fete cracks open one eye to see who interrupted him from the nap he was about to have and finds a woman with magenta hair who's probably in her twenties staring at him with a timid smile on her face. He opens both eyes when he sees the man in a lab coat next to her, holding a tray of needles. "Come to make sure I'm as healthy as can be before putting me in a death match?"

"I'm sure she's just trying to help you out, dude!" Devrek says quickly, surprising Fete as he has no clue why the escort is still here. He looks over at his escort, finding him clutching his recorder with both hands in front of his chest and grinning at the girl, making Fete shake his head at the look of puppy love on his face. "Right?"

"Well, yes," she says hesitantly and tries to smile at him a bit as her cheeks get a pinkish hue. God, Fete wants to barf at this. He wishes Atropa was right next to him to witness this. "We need to take a blood sample and then gives you a few shots – some antibiotics and other stuff to get your health at its best before the Games start. And the sens-" She cuts herself off before finishing her sentence and Fete lazily raises an eyebrow at her, actually finding the motivation to care about what she was going to say if she was really going to talk about how the sick bastards are taking away their senses. But she quickly clears her throat and motions for the medical staff to do his job.

In a matter of seconds, Fete's elbow is pricked with an intravenous needle and he just stares at the man blankly. "Ow," he says monotonously, feeling the need to acknowledge the needle in some way. Yet the man ignores him as he starts to draw blood into a tiny vial. Fete watches as it fills, starting to wonder how much blood he'll see spilled around him in the arena. In a matter of seconds, the vial is filled and the man switches over to injecting the contents of the large syringe into Fete, leaving him squirming a little at the knowledge they've put something in him to take away his senses. There's got to be something in there to fulfill the Quell twist.

He keeps waiting to feel something to his senses, some sort of sign that will tell him which sense he's going to lose – please not his sight – yet seconds tick by as the technician removes the needle and places gauze over the spot to stop the bleeding, and Fete feels…just like his normal tired self. "Keep this elevated for a few minutes," the technician instructs Fete, but he just stares at the man, keeping his elbow right where it was. The older man lets out a sigh before putting a bandage over it and stepping back. "Suit yourself. He's all set."

"Great," the woman says, but lingers for a moment as she glances over at Devrek, making Fete roll his eyes. "Well, on to the next one."

"Wait," Devrek says as she turns around to leave and she stops right away, almost as if she was hoping he would say something. "What's your name?"

"Laelia," she answers with a small smile before leaving to head over to the District Nine tributes with the technician.

Devrek lets out a sigh as he watches her leave before turning to look at Fete with a look that makes him want to vomit. "Fete, I'm going to marry that woman someday."

"Good for you," Fete answers as he shuts his eyes and crosses his arms, trying to get back to napping. "Must be nice to know you'll live past the next three weeks. And what are you even doing here?"

"Well to be honest, I don't really know what I'm supposed to be doing right now."

Fete sighs loudly at this, already feeling like he's falling asleep and not wanting to put up with the escort any longer. "Why don't you go check on Atropa?" Fete asks him, only feeling slightly bad for making his best friend deal with him. But better for her to get to know him so she can get the sponsors from him. Maybe if she's friendlier with Devrek, he'll be more inclined to see she's District Eight's better option.

"I heard that, feet boy!"

"Great idea," Devrek responds and Fete cracks open an eye to verify that the escort is really leaving him alone.

Fete lets out a small sigh of content that he can finally just nap and shuts his eyes tightly shut. He easily blocks out the sounds of the other tributes as they deal with their prep teams to start sleeping.

"Wakey wakey!" Someone practically screeches in Fete's ears and he groans loudly in annoyance at them before turning to ignore them, trying to keep sleeping. "No time to sleep!"

Someone grabs onto his arm and Fete quickly opens his eyes to glare at them as he pulls his arm away. "I would much rather be sleeping than get put through your torture."

The person gasps in shock and Fete can hear Atropa chuckle from next to him. "So rude. That is no way to treat the assistants for your stylist!"

Right…his stylist. He can't wait to see what terrible outfit they make from him. He's absolutely positive he could make something better than the atrocity they have made for him. "I'm a stylist," he says as he sticks out his chest a bit.

"Oh that's wonderful," they respond absentmindedly as they pull on his arm once more to get him to stand up. He grunts in annoyance at this as they pull out a tape measure and start recording all sorts of details about him. As annoyed as he is with them, he stays still, having been the other person in this situation many times and having to control his snarky remarks at the brides who won't stay put. "I bet you could learn a ton from Jared!"

"I doubt it," Fete mutters to himself and snickers. He's seen the atrocious costumes the stylists make for District Eight. Just look at the mess that Clark wore last year. There's no doubt in Fete's mind that whatever they have made, he could do better.

"I think you'll really like the outfit!" They continue as they write down his measurements, blissfully unaware of Fete's comment or choosing to ignore him. "Jared and Eilna have made a great set of matching costumes for you and Atropa."

Well at least he'll look like a mess with his best friend. As much as he knows they need to look good…he's not very hopeful. He'll just have to find some other way to get the crowd to like Atropa so she'll live. "Were they the stylists for Eight last year?"

"Eilna was but Jared got promoted up from District Ten after Clark's stylist was promoted," they respond as they step back and roll up their measuring tape. "Alright come with me to the washing station."

District Ten…? Fete remembers all the costumes from last year's Games, having sat with Atropa and made fun of them together and commented on how he would improve them. Even if he hadn't done that, the District Ten costume would have stuck out in his mind forever. No one would have forgotten that look.

His stylist was the one that made the damn meat dress.

If Fete does somehow manage to win these Games, there is no way he will ever live down whatever atrocity he's being put in tonight. Maybe it will be better to die and not live with this humiliation. "Can't wait," Fete says with the biggest fake smile he can possibly give as he stands up to start following them out of the area. Maybe there's a chance to make sure all of his outfits and Atropa's aren't horrendous. Maybe he can make the Capitol forget tonight's outfit. If they say no, fine, but at least he can say he tried to help out his best friend. "Question for you."

"Oh go ahead!" They answer happily as they start leading him to the next room over. "I will do my very best to answer it."

"Do you think Jared and Eilna would be willing to discuss ideas for the interview outfit with me?"

The District 7 Female Tribute, 17

She anxiously rubs the spot on her arm where the blood sample was drawn when she first arrived at the prep station, all too aware of what that kind of information could mean against her. Hours have ticked by with no one busting down the door, accusing her of her secrets… She's been allowed to go through what must be the normal process for tributes: having hair ripped out of everywhere, yelled at over the state of her blonde roots before making her hair completely brown once more, measured and pulled this way and that by a team that barely treated her as human. For some, they might be reassured that no one has questioned her yet. But not her. This is only making her more anxious with each passing second.

Why did she ever step into this lie? She should have ran away after the accident with Carameuse, not tried to be her. She never would have been reaped if she stayed herself. Yet it's too late and now the consequences of her fear in the moment keep piling up.

What chance does she even have if she's discovered? The only relief she has is what's hidden away in Carameuse's diary…yet they've even taken that from her. Will they find the one thing from the rebels that could save her?

And why have they just left her alone for so long? Shouldn't they have something more to do with her before the chariots? Not that she wants anything to do with the chariots. Going in front of that many people, all scrutinizing her? Just the thought is enough to nearly send her into a panic.

She jumps at a knock on the door to her room, letting out a tiny squeak of fear. The door soon opens, leaving her staring at the person entering it with wide eyes full of shock. She anxiously scrambles away from the President of Panem as he walks in, flanked by two guards and the scariest looking man she's ever seen. Yet there's nowhere for her to go and she presses herself against the wall, wishing she could disappear right into it.

This is it. She's done for.

"Miss Juniper," the President says as the door shuts behind him and the lock clicks into place, only causing her heart to start thumping in her chest. "But that's not your real name, is it?"

She looks at him, unable to meet his gaze for more than a fraction of a second at a time. Long seconds tick by in silence as he waits for her response and she tries to figure out what to say. Her mother has always told her to never tell anyone what she is. She's to stay quiet, out of sight from everyone, and silently deliver the rebel messages. But her mother never told her what to do in front of the person they're trying to overthrow.

The intimidating man steps forward, ignoring President Xavier trying to hold up a hand to stop him. He grabs onto her arm roughly, pulling her towards him as he scowls down at her. "Your president asked you a question, answer him!"

"Theodosius!" The President calls sharply at him, making the man – Theodosius – look back at him. "Bring her here."

"With pleasure," Theodosius responds before turning back to her, sneer on his face as he stares down at her in disgust. "You really thought you could get away with this? Rebel scum."

"I'm not a rebel!" She protests as she tries to pull her wrist out from his grasp, but his grip is vicelike as he drags her right in front of the President. She keeps her gaze down from him, afraid to meet his eyes as she's forced to stay put by a firm hand on her shoulder.

"I find that hard to believe, Holly," President Xavier tells her, finally making her meet his gaze in shock at hearing her real name for the first time in weeks. "Yes, Holly Alder, we know the truth about you."

Holly is silent for a moment, fear paralyzing her as the President stares at her with a disapproving gaze, before all of a sudden it's like a dam has broken and she can't control herself. "I didn't mean to kill her! She attacked me first and it was an accident, I swear!"

The President continues to stare at her, forcing her to look away as she bites her tongue, in disbelief and disappointed in herself that she told him that. Seconds pass by and she spares a quick glance up at him, finding him not looking at all surprised. How could he have known? "If you think you can come into the Hunger Games and bring down the country I have built up for decades, you and the other rebels are sorely mistaken. Your plan will fail. You will fail. If you think I will allow a rebel to get out of the arena alive…you are sorely mistaken."

Holly lets out a small choked sob at this, her fears being confirmed… She's a dead person walking. "I-I'm not-"

"Not what?" President Xavier raises an eyebrow at her, waiting to see what she says. But she presses her lips together before trying to move a bit, wanting to hide against the wall, yet Theodosius' grip on her is firm. After giving her the chance to defend herself and claim she's not a rebel – even though they both know it – President Xavier motions to one of the guards with him. "Give her the tracker."

Holly tries to hide her arm as the guard steps forward, but in a flash, Theodosius pulls her arm out and presents it to the guard, perfect for injecting something into her. "I already got my tracker!" Holly tries to protest, squirming around to loosen the grip but it's no use. She can't escape. She starts breathing rapidly as the guard takes out a large needle, feeling trapped by all of this.

"This is something different," President Xavier responds coolly as the needle is stuck into bicep and she yelps at the sharp pain as something is pushed deep below the muscle. She looks at the spot on her arm as the needle is yanked out, watching blood quickly pool on her skin before a patch is placed over it. "This is something to ensure your silence about the rebels. It is not to track you in the arena or take away your senses…" The President falls quiet for a few seconds until Holly's curiosity gets the better of her and she looks up at him, then he responds. "It is to kill you if you speak one word about rebels. And I can promise you, it will be an extremely painful death, far worse than whatever fate with become you in the arena. If you don't think I am serious about this, go ahead and try. We can say a variety of excuses for why you are dead before the Games have started."

Holly's eyes widen in shock at him before staring down at her arm, bringing up her hand to the wound and pulling at the skin as if she can pull the tracker out of her. Yet whatever patch they placed on her has made the skin already start to heal. There's no use. They have her trapped even more than she already thought.

She won't dare challenge him. But now…now she can't try and get a secret message back to the rebels at home to notify them that it's her, Holly Alder, not Carameuse Juniper here. If they already know about her being a rebel, surely they must know the phrases…

They might as well just kill her now and get it over with.

Tears slip down her face before there's any chance of her stopping them and she quickly wipes away at them, not wanting them to see her crying. She doesn't want anyone seeing her crying…

"Are we clear?" President Xavier asks her and she slowly nods her head. At this, Theodosius lets go of her arm and returns back to the President's side. "Good. Best of luck, Carameuse."

With that, the door is unlocked and the President leaves her behind, followed closely by his guards. Theodosius lingers back to look at her, sneer still on his face as he crosses his arms at her. "You rebels are going to lose," he humorlessly chuckles at her and shakes his head before turning towards the door. "And you're going to die."

And with that, they leave her alone, slamming the door behind them. With another click of the lock, Holly chokes out a tiny sob, trying her damn best to hold back her emotions. She can't let them out, not when she's about to be paraded through the streets in front of the people that keep them all oppressed. As much as she wants to scream and cry at her fate, she must keep on a neutral face and hide her feelings. Or rather…Carameuse must hide her feelings.

And yet, Holly suddenly finds herself on the ground, not knowing how she got there, knees pulled up to her chest and arms wrapped around them. She can't do this. How is anyone supposed to go out in front of the entire country? All she wants to do is scream and cry and find some way to get past this tracker to let those back home know it's her – Holly, not Carameuse… But she can't take the risk of saying any of the rebel phrases. Maybe…maybe her mother will recognize her? Her mother that must be worried sick about her since she never returned home…

Holly takes a shaky breath, trying to bring her emotions under control. Nothing good has ever happened from letting her emotions run wild. She rests her head against her knees, taking deep, shuddering breaths as she tries to calm herself down, yet all she wants to do is cry. But the fear of what people will say if they see the puffy eyes from crying? She can't let them see her like that. She just can't.

Holly picks up her head suddenly, a realization suddenly crossing her mind. She won't be going out in front of the Capitol, Carameuse, will be going out in front of the crowd. No one is going to see Holly Alder. They'll be looking at Carameuse Juniper. She can just keep acting as Carameuse and pretend that this isn't all happening.

And she is good at acting.

Holly looks around, wishing she had Carameuse's diary right now to read through it some more to find some example of how the girl would act in front of the crowd. And mostly to check that they haven't found the secret hiding in it… But another knock on the door has her tensing up before quickly standing up and wiping away tears from her eyes. She puts on a polite smile that Carameuse always gives as the door opens once more, revealing the person that must be her stylist.

"Hello, hello!" The woman cheerfully says as she enters the room, clapping her hands in excitement. Holly tries to force a smile at her, knowing it's what Carameuse would do, yet her fear of the President makes her probably look more like she's grimacing. "Time to get you all ready to go for the chariots! Now we have something cool for you – even if my creativity had to be limited by Seraphim's instructions but for not being fashionable at all, he didn't do too bad with the idea. Oh!" The woman suddenly stops and puts a hand over her chest before frowning dramatically at Holly. "I am so sorry, I haven't introduced myself! I am your stylist, Honey!"

"I'm…Carameuse," Holly answers hesitantly and slowly takes the hand covered in rings. Once in Honey's grip, her hand is shaken vigorously, all while the stylist smiles at her. But Holly can't smile, too concerned about what she said about the Head Gamemaker. Is he purposely targeting her with a terrible outfit? Trying to get her to lose all sponsors from the very start? "Seraphim's instructions…?" She asks carefully, not quite sure if she wants to know the answer.

"Yes, yes," Honey responds and gestures behind her for her team to bring in the outfit in the garment bag. "Seraphim wants to have a theme," she gives a dramatic gesture at the word 'theme' and shrugs at Holly. "So we were told to work together with the other stylist in our District to coordinate outfits and stay within the instructions he told us. So here we are," Honey unzips the bag, revealing an outfit that is not terrible like Holly was starting to dread, before turning back to her, still grinning.

"Now let's get you in this outfit so you can dazzle the crowd!"

It's been a hot minute since we last updated this but it's summer time, so you know that means it's time to crank out some updates! And now we're really going to get into all the fun interactions between the tributes!

So here we see a bit of insight into how the senses are going to get taken away from the tributes. But you know I'm not revealing which sense they're going to be losing yet ;) And of course we need to get a bit of subplot!

So thoughts on this chapter? Will Fete or Atropa succeed at keeping the other alive? What will happen to Holly aka Not Carameuse (TM)? And what could she have hidden in her diary? ~All will be revealed eventually~

Alright next up we'll be checking in with Seraphim for the chariot rides! Any guesses on what the theme could be? That chapter is all written so I'll be able to get that posted once I post Wayward Day Two which I've wrapped up already! I'm still going to be alternating updates between these two stories unless I say otherwise. Both updates will be up before June 1st so see you soon :)