See chapter 1 for disclaimer.
Well. Here's chapter 2! I would like to thank you all for your kind words! I'm glad you enjoyed chapter 1 and I hope you like chapter 2 just as much.
A quick note: Katherine Pryde = Kitty Pryde. I'll bring that out in the next chapter or the one after that, but I just thought you should know. So all of you asking for Shadowcat… she's here! I promise! As for the rest of them, you'll just have to wait and see. : ).
We will be seeing a glimpse or two of Erik in the next chapter… : ).
One last thing, that I put as a blanket statement on all of my stories: Don't assume anything. And I mean anything… especially concerning the whole District 11 characters thing.
And on that note, enjoy the chapter! Reviews are always welcome! : ).
The Mutant Games
Chapter 2: Nothing to Remember
Effie was the first to recover.
"Well, then," she said, her voice shaken. "Come forward."
Hank was shaking violently, desperately trying to catch Charles' eye. The telepath felt as though his heart was breaking as he looked away.
"Charles!" Hank cried once more. "Don't do this!"
Alex was suddenly there, pulling the younger boy away. For a moment, Charles and Alex met gazes.
I'm sorry, Charles thought, knowing he would be heard.
The older mutant shook his head slightly. They both knew this was the only way to keep Hank safe.
Charles took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. He forced his face blank, hoping that none of his horror showed as he walked toward the stage.
Effie was waiting for him, looking like a giant pink blur at the top of the stairs. She beckoned to him with a sickly sweet smile on her face.
The crowd below was silent, still in shock over what happened. Charles didn't blame him—he, too, couldn't believe what he had just done.
No one in District 12 had ever volunteered before. It was an unspoken rule that if you were chosen, you were left to your fate. The District would mourn you, but it couldn't sacrifice any more than it had to.
But Charles couldn't stand by and allow Hank to be thrown to the slaughter. Hank was innocent. To stand by and let him be killed in the Games when Charles could have prevented it… that would have made Charles little better than the Capitol he despised.
Charles walked to stand beside Katherine, who offered him a grim smile. He didn't return it.
"What's your name?" Effie asked, taking her place in between the two tributes.
"Charles," he replied in a thankfully strong voice. "Charles Xavier."
"Welcome, Charles!" Effie crowed. To the crowd, she added, "How about a nice, warm round of applause for District 12's first ever volunteer?"
Silence.
It was the boldest form of dissent the District could show. There weren't enough of them and too many of the Peacekeepers to start a fight. But silence… silence showed the District didn't approve. They disagreed. They didn't condone what was going on.
Charles looked out, feeling simultaneously shocked and honored at the sight that greeted him.
Every single person in the square raised three fingers to their lips and then to Charles. It was an old salute, one that showed the utmost respect.
And it was being directed toward him. He could hardly believe it.
Effie, for once, had absolutely nothing to say. She could only stare at the crowd in astonishment.
A loud grunt sounded to Charles' left. He turned in time to see District 12's one and only Mutant Games' winner, Haymitch Abernathy, go tumbling off the stage.
Haymitch was a perpetual drunk, so this show of massive disgrace was to no one's surprise. But Charles couldn't help but feel slightly thankful; for one, it moved the cameras off of him and the District's salute and on to something more comedic.
Charles smiled slightly as the man stumbled to his feet, shouting obscene things at the Capitol's cameramen.
Haymitch was quickly escorted out of sight by two burly looking Peacekeepers. Effie let out an irritated sigh, clearly not happy with the way her Reaping was interrupted.
She turned to Katherine and Charles.
"Shake hands," she ordered in a clipped voice.
Charles looked at Katherine, reading his own anxiety and fears in her eyes. For a brief moment, he felt encouraged by this, knowing that he wouldn't have to go through this entirely alone.
He held out his hand, smiling slightly. Katherine was quick to return it, taking his hand in her own. Her grip was tentative and short.
They let go of each other quickly.
Effie nodded to the two Peacekeepers behind them.
Charles knew that this was it. This was the point of no return. The moment he left this stage, he would be forever a piece in the Capitol's games.
He glanced out to the crowd below, searching for Hank and Alex.
One of the Peacekeepers took hold of Charles' arm, leading him into the Justice Building. The doors closed ominously behind them.
Charles was escorted to a small, windowless room, where he would be allowed to say his good-byes to his family.
The room was made of wooden panels and a soft, plush carpet, more luxurious than anything Charles had ever had in his entire life. It was ironic, really, that he was being treated like such royalty during what could very well be his last few weeks alive.
The door closed behind the Peacekeeper, momentarily leaving Charles alone. Barley a minute after the Peacekeeper left, the door burst open, revealing a distraught looking Hank and a stunned looking Alex.
"Hank has something he wants to give you," Alex said in a stiff voice. He was obviously trying to keep a hold on his emotions for Hank, but Charles could see through the façade. Alex was scared, maybe more so than Charles was.
Charles looked from Alex to Hank, who was clutching something tightly in one hand.
"What is it, Hank?" Charles asked.
The younger mutant held out his hand, slowly unfurling his fingers. It was a pin, a simple silver X with a circle surrounding it, but it was far more than Charles had expected.
"It's for luck," Hank mumbled. "You'll wear it, won't you?"
Charles nodded. "Of course," he replied.
It was quiet for a moment. Then, Hank let out a soft cry, before tackling Charles into a fierce hug. Charles returned it just as hard, closing his eyes against the tears that stung them.
"It's going to be okay, Hank," he murmured. "It's going to be all right. I promise."
Hank shook his head and buried his face deeper into Charles' shoulder.
"You have to win, Charles," he whispered, so softly that Charles could barely hear him. "You have to win."
Charles felt as though his heart was breaking as he gently pulled himself out of Hank's grip.
"I will," he promised with a sinking heart. "I will."
It would be next to impossible. There were twenty-four mutants—most more powerful than Charles could ever dream of being—and only one winner. The odds weren't in his favor.
But from the looks on Alex and Hank's faces, Charles knew he would have to try. He couldn't let them watch him die out there.
Alex looked as though he were about to say something, but the door opened behind him. It was a Peacekeeper, announcing that the two minutes of good-byes were up.
Hank gave Charles another hug, before turning quickly. Charles didn't miss his younger adopted brother's tears as he disappeared through the door.
"Look after him," Charles told Alex.
The older mutant nodded solemnly. "Look after yourself, Charles," he whispered, clapping his hand on the telepath's shoulder. "And try to come back to us."
Before Charles had the chance to say anything, Alex was gone.
He was alone.
Barely twenty minutes later, Charles was escorted from the Justice Building to an awaiting car that would take him to the train station. Katherine, Effie, and Haymitch met him there.
Under any other circumstances, Charles would have been fascinated with the car ride, and later, the train that was waiting at the station. Cars and passenger trains were rare in District 12, for they cost far more than what anyone in the District could afford.
I'm like a lamb being prepared for slaughter, Charles thought darkly as the car pulled to a stop outside of the train station.
Normally, on Reaping Day, the train station would be crowded with people looking for one last glimpse of the tributes before they went off to the Capitol. Today, however, there was no one there.
It was another form of rebellion, one Charles prayed would go unpunished.
Effie was chattering away excitedly about the train and how he and Katherine were in for a treat. Charles barely heard her as he followed her listlessly up the steps to the train. All he could think about was Hank's frightened face and Alex's solemn good-bye gesture.
He wished, not for the last time, that none of this had happened, that he, Alex, and Hank had ran for it.
But it was too late. And wishing would get him nowhere.
Effie led the way through the train car. Charles couldn't help but stare at the sheer expense of the world around him.
The glittering, gold benches were lined with plush, red velvet cushions. There was a large, mahogany table that stretched between the two benches, gleaming in the soft, overhead light. The table held gold platters that were filled with every sort of food imaginable, and goblets with different colored liquids.
Charles' jaw dropped. Any one of those plates could have fed his family for a month.
Beside him, Katherine was having the same reaction. She turned to Effie.
"This isn't all for us, is it?" she asked, her brown eyes wide.
"Of course it is," Effie said. "Why wouldn't it be?"
Because neither of us have never been fed this well, Charles didn't say.
Haymitch muttered something about Seam brats, before pushing passed Charles to walk over to the table. He picked up one of the goblets and sniffed it. Clearly satisfied with his decision, he then proceeded to disappear through the door on the other side of the train car.
Effie let out a disbelieving sigh.
"That's just rude," she declared. Turning to Katherine and Charles, she added, "This is the dining car. You'll have all of your meals onboard the train here. We will meet here tomorrow to discuss what you're to expect when we arrive at the Capitol."
Charles nodded numbly, still in shock over the enormity of what all was happening.
Effie sighed again. "If you're hungry, go ahead and eat. If not, I'll show you to your rooms."
Despite the fact that all he had barely eaten anything that day, Charles wasn't hungry at all. However, his years of going hungry taught him not to waste the food that was in front of him, so it was with a knotted stomach that he sat down across the table from Katherine and picked at some of the food.
There was everything he could have dreamed of—and more. Large, steaming pots of soup and rice; large platters filled with every sort of game imaginable, with separate sauces for each; a large basket filled with golden rolls that made Charles' mouth water just looking at them, complete with a dish of butter; and large cakes with beautiful garnish that were never seen in District 12 outside of the baker's window.
Hank would have loved all of this.
It physically hurt to think that and know that it was true. Charles' younger adopted brother would have been chattering away excitedly about what exactly each meal was, how it was prepared, what the best way to eat it was… He would have read it in one of the countless books he had memorized over the past seven years.
Charles closed his eyes and took a deep breath, forcing the image of Hank's terrified face out of his mind. Now was not the time to be focusing on that. There would be time for that later, when he was out from underneath Effie's watchful eye and Katherine's curious stares.
The food itself was just as delicious as it looked, but even still, Charles could barely manage a few bites of the rich cuisine before he forced his plate away.
Katherine did the same, looking increasingly more anxious with each passing second. A part of Charles longed to say something to take away that anxiety, but what could he say? That it was going to be okay? They both knew that would be a bold face lie. One or both of them would be dead within the month. There was nothing okay about that.
Effie seemed to sense their feelings, for she let out a weary sigh.
"All right, you two," she said, rising to her feet. She had been sitting in one of the padded arm chairs a few feet away. "Time for bed. Maybe in the morning you'll be less gloomy."
Charles was half-tempted to snap back at her, tell her that she should try being a glorified slaughter animal, but found that he couldn't. As angry as he was about all of this, there would be no use taking it out on Effie. She was just another piece in the Game, much like he was. Granted, she wouldn't actually be in the Game, and she would live to see another year, but that didn't make her no less of a pawn.
Katherine hovered close beside Charles as Effie led the way to the sleeping car. Without thinking, Charles took her hand in his, dropping it quickly once he realized what he had done.
"Sorry," he murmured.
She shook her head, taking his hand again.
"It's okay," she whispered back. "I don't want—I—I don't like being alone."
She reminded him so much of Hank in that moment that Charles was forced to look away. He didn't, however, let go of her hand until they reached her room for the night.
Katherine disappeared behind a sliding door, leaving Effie and Charles alone.
"Right," Effie said. "This way. You must be exhausted. It's been a busy day."
Charles grunted in affirmation, breathing a mental sigh of relief as Effie stopped outside of the next door.
"Here we are!" she announced, though her cheery tone was sounding forced. "I'll see you in the morning, in the dining car."
As if he had forgotten.
Still, he bid her farewell with what he hoped was a semi-pleasant smile on his face, before retreating into the solidarity of his room.
He was alone at last.
Somehow, that idea brought less comfort than he first thought.
I'm alone, he realized. From here on out, I'm alone.
It would be the first time he was truly alone since his parents died.
There was no help for him anymore, no friendly faces to look forward to seeing in the morning… no one, except for a girl he barely knew and a crowd eagerly awaiting his death.
"This was a bad idea," he whispered.
But he couldn't bring himself to regret it, knowing that if he hadn't volunteered, Hank would be here in his place.
With that last, somber thought, Charles pulled off his long-sleeve dress shirt and tossed it to the ground, not caring where it landed. He would never have need of it again.
I could die, he realized. I probably will die.
A tear slid down his face and landed on the carpeted floor below.
Charles swallowed heavily and took a deep breath to calm himself. He couldn't afford to think like that. Not if he wanted to ever see his family again.
With that thought, Charles climbed onto the waiting bed and crawled under the sheets. A few minutes later, despite the hundreds of thoughts racing through his mind, he was fast asleep.