Chapter 22: "Waiting on Reunions"


July 8: Day Two of the Games

Capitol Building for the Mentors


It was an entirely different experience for Bobbi, not really working during the Games. Viper had her source of sponsorship with Seraph should Betsy ever really need it, so all of a sudden, Bobbi found herself with … nothing to do.

It wasn't like last year, when, after Natasha had died, she had stepped in to try to drum up support for Clint, seeing as Masters wasn't doing his due diligence on that front anyway. This time, she honestly didn't have anything that she could work on — and she was finding out firsthand that this meant she had front row seats to Viper's running commentary on the Games, on the victors…. The woman had a sharp opinion on just about everything, and with Bobbi in her good graces now, apparently that meant she simply had to share.

At the moment, Viper was commenting on the start to the second day, and how convenient it was to start out with a death so at least her tribute wouldn't be in danger as long as she stayed smart and out of trouble, since the quota had been met and the best fights were always later in the Games anyway… when she was upstaged by an incredibly angry Johan Schmidt.

It was still early enough in the Games that there were multiple different feeds. The districts would get the most important highlights of course, since many homes just had the single feed — but here in the Capitol, at the same time Kitty was checking Alex's pulse, other cameras were following Brock Rumlow as he let the transport lead him to a possible tribute, and others were following the constant bickering in the Careers as the clash of egos was clearly proving difficult to handle there.

Schmidt had been preening about how smart his tribute was to follow the transport, to let it guide him to a hiding spot for the other tributes in the Games — right up until Rumlow ran into Bucky. After that, his cocky confidence had given way to a growing expression of fury and disbelief, and by the time Bucky had broken Brock's back, Schmidt was an even deeper red than usual.

For a moment after Rumlow's cannon sounded, Schmidt glared around the room full of victors like he wasn't quite sure where to start, but he finally turned his attention to Quill, stalking over to him with a slightly purple hue. "Why can't you teach your tributes how to kill a man properly?" he demanded of Quill. "That's two in two years who don't know how to finish the job."

"Hey, since when do you even care?" Quill shot back. "I didn't know the Red Skull was so concerned about anyone else's pain levels."

"I've grown tired of watching your sorry excuses for tributes bungle the Games for the rest of ours," Skull sneered. "Your last boy couldn't finish up either, and I'm starting to think it's not the tributes that are the problem."

"I teach my kids how to survive," Quill said evenly, his eyes narrowed. "Something you might want to consider trying one of these days."

"You'd best grow a stomach for this. You're running out of time," Schmidt shot back. "I'd hate to hear you disappointed your new family."

But if Schmidt had been hoping to intimidate Quill with that crack, the opposite was true, as it only seemed to make him madder. "Jokes on you. Pretty sure whatever I do, I'll be a disappointment to them."

"On that we can agree," Schmidt sneered before he simply turned away from Quill like he couldn't stand to be near the young man anymore, stalking over to turn his attention to the newest victor with a deeply settled glare. "And you — stay away from my tribute."

"Pretty sure I'm already about as far away as I can get," Logan said dryly before he looked over to Jessica. "Wouldn't that be something … sweetest tribute out there to win? Represent Six?"

"It would be nice to have a person to represent Six," Jessica replied without missing a beat.

"You could teach her how to braid her hair," Logan muttered, knowing full well the jokes that had gone around about the campfire gang. "And burn marshmallows."

"Pretty sure that's your department," Jess shot back. "Resident campfire specialist."

"The marshmallows, sure," he agreed as he reached up to run a hand through his hair. "Hair never would cooperate."

Bobbi was trying hard not to smirk too broadly watching the other victors tear down the increasingly red-faced Schmidt, and she had thankfully schooled her expression by the time Schmidt even looked that way — though he was looking more to Viper than to Bobbi anyway as the older woman slunk over to where he was and threaded her arm through his, muttering something in his ear that seemed to get rid of the purple pallor, at least.

"...in good time," Viper said — though that was all that Bobbi had really caught. But it seemed to be enough to settle him away from the purple and into a far more familiar heated, red coloring.

With the room more settled, several of the victors started to spread out again, having caught up on the morning news from the Games. They were ready to start getting back to work with sponsors again, though Quill skirted around a few Capitolites who looked like they wanted to congratulate him on his tribute's first kill so he could catch up to Erik Lensherr, of all people.

"Listen," Quill said as he slid up to the older victor. "I'm going to suggest to some of these…" He paused and gestured toward the would-be sponsors. "Well, I have more than I need, and that sweet girl you've got could use the help more than Barnes could."

"That's a bit out of the bounds of the usual way of doing business, isn't it?" Erik asked with a frown, clearly regarding Quill as if he was trying to figure out his stake in the matter — which he was.

"I don't need them, I don't want them, and I'm not breaking any rules by talking up your tribute in conversation, right?" Quill asked, his eyes wide and his expression totally open. "You should hear Logan talk up the Six girl. It's not against the rules…"

"You're using the new victor as an example on what's allowed …"

"You haven't seen him work like I have," Quill pointed out. "He knows what's strictly in the rules and works around them, so — trust me on this. It's not like I'm doing anything illegal." He shook his head. "Just run with it, okay? I don't want to see her… she's got a good heart, you know?"

"Yes, she does," Erik said with a little nod, though he was still openly studying the young man. "How many tributes are the two of you rooting for this year then?"

Quill rubbed the back of his neck. "So I can't root for more than just mine? It's not a crime."

"No, it's not a crime to have your favorites," Erik said with a smile. "There have been times I've all but held my breath hoping my own didn't gain any ground … but what the two of you are doing is not good for yourselves. It's bad enough getting involved with your own tribute — but to worry about others too?"

"I'm getting married soon. Let me live a little first," Quill said, looking a little sheepish.

Erik raised an eyebrow his way and nodded once, very slowly. "Yes. Well, I'll not turn away someone who would like to help her. She does have a good heart, though how you know that, I'd rather not know."

Quill broke into a more usual smile for him as he nodded. "You know me. I just seem to know things. No idea how." He shrugged with both palms upturned.

"Peter Jason Quill," Erik said, not even trying to hide his amusement. "You are a great many things, but an intuitive judge of character is not one of those things."

"That's just the way I was made," he said, grinning as he saluted Erik with two fingers and launched himself back toward the Capitolites with a little more fervor.

It continued like that into the afternoon, when the fight between the Tens and Eight's boy came to light on the screen, and most of the crowd gathered seemed to be holding their breath. The charming thief from Eight had a bit of a following, but trying to steal from the creeping monsters from Ten seemed downright suicidal.

Charles had made a point to stay close to Jessica, almost apologetically, as Hank came to stand with them, looking more nervous than both of them as it was obvious that Remy had been caught red-handed. As the fight went on, more of the victors came to stand nearby, though no one spoke until the fight started to turn, and right after one particularly wicked-sounding crack of the bo staff, the mood of the group seemed to shift a bit.

"Didn't say he was that good with a staff," Logan muttered to Jess with a little smirk.

"I didn't know either," Jess said with a little smile. "He spent his whole time here trying to flirt with … everyone."

"You sayin' he threw you off your game?" Logan teased.

"Like a little flirting would throw me. I'm saying he never showed anything."

"Sounds like you're covering, Drew," he chuckled before he bumped her shoulder. "What else were you doing?"

"Oh, you know. Someone has to look out for Quill," she said airily.

"Is that code for somethin' I should watch out for?"

"Not this time, but I wouldn't be surprised if you do need to watch your back during the wedding," she said, this time a bit more seriously.

"You know something I don't?" he asked with a little frown.

"I know something Quill does," she replied. "He mentioned that your name has popped up a few times at the palace." She leaned forward so the cameras wouldn't catch what she whispered to him. "He didn't catch the context."

"Doesn't really matter," he replied with a shrug. "Doubt it's too concerning."

"Just try to stay off the radar of anyone blue," she told him with one raised eyebrow.

"The only one blue even half interested in what I'm up to is 'starting a line' with Jubes," he said dryly.

"Oh, you mean the one who keeps showing up at my place to steal my stylists for a double date?" she teased.

"Yep. That's the one," he agreed. "Not scary at all."

"I'll deny it if you say it, but I'm gonna miss that idiot. It's been fun coming back to their little powwows every day," Jess said with an obviously affectionate smile.

"She'll only stick around as long as she has to," Logan said. "She's already upset over all this mess."

"For her sake, I hope she can get out fast. Not everyone gets that chance, and she deserves it," Jess agreed with a sigh. "I like her too."

About that time, the cannon went off, and Remy was the last man standing as the Ten girl simply left the scene. Almost immediately, the congratulations started up. Everyone seemed relieved to see the tall boy from Ten go down, though Jess turned Hank's way with an ill-hidden smile.

"Sorry about that," she said, not sounding sorry in the least.

"Oh, no," Hank replied. "No, I'm just glad this one didn't take the cannibalistic route. It was a real concern."

She pulled a face. "Yeah, after last year's, I can understand that," she said before she patted his shoulder with one hand. "Well, what say I buy you a drink later tonight to console you over the loss of your tribute?" she teased.

"And toast your raging Cajun," he agreed with a smile.

"I like that," she laughed. "I think I'll have to call him that. The sponsors will love it."

Since the setting and the temperatures were so oppressive during daylight hours, not much was going on through the arena, and most of the victors took the opportunity to try and catch a break. All of them were trying to be aware of what was going on most of the time, so it was exhausting to be on during the day with nothing but the Capitolites to keep their attention. But, when the sun started to go down and the activity in the arena started to go into an upswing, one by one, they all started to pay closer attention once more.

The darker it got, the more Logan started to frown, though. He knew that if there were no more deaths or scuffles, then the most 'entertaining' thing on the screen would likely be Scott when the day's deaths were played out in the sky, and it had him concerned for the young man. No one should have to grieve their brother on live television.

It was no surprise, then, when the main feed was focused on Scott as the faces began to appear in the sky. The room holding the victors was nearly silent — all of them waiting to see how the kids were going to handle the news …

The feed on Scott didn't show the faces in the sky, but it was clear exactly when Alex's was projected; the young man from Seven just stopped. He was staring up with the most open look Logan had ever seen from him, and it was to his credit that he stayed to the end of the parade of faces before he simply turned on his heel, his back to the night sky as he sat down barely inside their hideout, staring at nothing and not moving an inch once he was there.

Creed had walked up behind Logan as the show began, and on seeing Scott's reaction, he dropped his hand heavily on Logan's shoulder and shook his head. "He's done," Creed said, and the hackles on Logan's neck raised as he turned to look his way.

"Not even close," Logan half growled back at him. "He's not a quitter."

But Creed shook his head with a growing smile. "I've seen it enough times. The kid's done. It's over. At least he wasn't a bloodbath."

Logan's scowl deepened. "You've caused it enough times," Logan replied, shrugging him off and walking away to go join Jessica, seeing as he couldn't go by Bobbi — not with Viper smiling toward them.

But Victor's good humor fell as Quill was quick to point out that Scott had "...a really great support system," gesturing at the screen — where Kamala and Clara had settled themselves on either side of Scott and were hugging the stuffing out of the unmoving boy. "She learn that from you, Creed? That's .. she's just so … snuggly."

Creed looked positively livid as he watched the screen for a moment — and Jessica was sure she saw his eye twitch before he turned and left the room in a huff.

The overlarge victor had brushed right past Coulson on his way out of the room, and the usually stoic SHIELD agent was almost outright smirking as he walked up to the other victors. "What's got him so…?" He shook his head, unable to stop the amused look on seeing Creed so tweaked.

"Found out his baby sister is a snuggler," Logan said.

"She must be the black sheep of the family," Coulson said dryly.

"And a cuddly one at that."

Coulson's smirk widened for a second before he finally cleared his throat and looked a little more business-like. "I need to have a word with you, Mr. Howlett," he said to Logan. "On how you should be running this side of things. I know you're new, so… this will be your 'get with it' warning speech."

Schmidt and Viper were smirking at seeing he was getting in some trouble, but Logan didn't look too terribly upset as he followed Coulson out of the room. "Takin' me to the principal's office are ya?" Logan said dryly.

"You practically live there anyway," Coulson replied, shaking his head.

"Not surprised. Such little faith." He waited until they were a little further from the cameras and crowds before he continued. "So really. What now?"

"We had a small dust-up in Eleven yesterday, and a few of our more powerful allies got themselves in trouble. If you could manage to see them to freedom before the Capitol starts questioning them…"

"Should be easier than what I've been putting up with," Logan said with a nod.

"It's not a scheduled mission, so this will be solo, and I'll be honest, I didn't run it by Fury, just Hill," Coulson told him.

"Even better," Logan said, smirking. "Fury'd make it miserable."

"He'll likely bust your chops, and mine, when you get back," Coulson admitted.

"Like that's never happened before," Logan replied dryly. "Just tell him it got to the point that someone was going to die."

"I was going to tell him I stepped in to save one of my operatives," Coulson told him honestly. "Skye was on the mission that went south, and I don't want the Capitol to know she's been running out in the field if they start questioning their prisoners."

"Got someone that needs to die too, or just free the ones that got caught?"

"If they have any information, if the prisoners were questioned at all…" Coulson let out a sigh.

"I'll take care of it," he promised.

"I try not to ask for massacres if I can help it," Coulson said with a small smile Logan's way. "If you can do this without killing anyone, that would be preferred."

"That'll be up to them then, won't it?"

"Good luck, Logan," Coulson told him, shooting the young man a small smile before he headed off, having seen Logan to where he needed to go. He had another team to check up on, after all.


Logan didn't take much time at all to prep, mostly what little time it took to change and gear up — which he did as Hill filled him in on exactly what he needed to know and showed him the maps and gadgetry he'd be using for the mission.

Through it all, he nodded here and there, ready to start up as soon as she was finished.

"If this goes well, I'll be having you do a lot more of these solo runs," Hill told him as they headed down to the hangar. He only nodded in response to that as they continued down the hall. His uniform for these missions included total coverage of his face, and once they were away from Hill's office, he didn't speak — just in case the wrong person overheard them and recognized his voice.

"Harry Tabeshaw will be your pilot — but he won't be able to do anything but get you there and back." Hill stopped as they got to the running transport. "I know you're getting run left and right, but you'll need to debrief with Coulson and me when you get back." Again, Logan nodded before he headed for the transport and headed out to Eleven.

As it turned out, Harry was a friendly kind of guy. Even though Logan didn't respond, the old tribesman barely seemed to slow down with his chatter and storytelling until they got close to Eleven's air space, and then he suddenly fell silent for a while until it was time for Logan to jump. "I'll meet you at the rendezvous," Harry said. "I know you got orders to be quick — but don't come back here bleeding all over the place. I don't know jack about first aid."

Logan had to smirk at that and gave the old guy the thumbs up before Harry opened the hatch and he simply leapt out.

On landing, Logan cut the chute loose and tucked it into a hollowed out tree nearby before he started toward where the prisoners were being held.

They weren't hard to find — exactly where Hill had said they'd be — but the guard detail around them was more intense than what the intel had suggested. He fell into a low crouch and slowly made his way around them, trying to avoid a disaster, and listening hard to what the guards were saying between themselves.

One of the prisoners was previously considered a non-threat, and they were planning to start interrogations as soon as their specialist arrived, since the Capitol forces wanted to know just who else they had missed in their estimation of who and what was considered to be a threat. And that didn't sound good for anyone involved. Still, it was good news — the Capitol hadn't gotten there yet.

The group of rebels was being held in a fortified warehouse of sorts that housed all kinds of heavy farming equipment, and when Logan found his route in — high up and through one of the windows near the office spaces — he wasn't surprised to see that inside as well as outside had guards at every entrance. He watched them for a little while to see what their patterns were and what order they'd have to be taken out so that no suspicion would be raised, and after he'd seen the pattern three or four times, he even had a good idea of how to take them out.

He started to climb down out of the rafters on a rope, hidden by a large combine, which he hid behind as the guards lazily walked by. He counted in his head how long it would take for the passing guard to turn, and when he came back, Logan simply darted out and disarmed him before he knocked him out cold and dragged him over to stash under the combine. He used the man's own cuffs to restrain him and shoved the guy's gloves in his mouth to keep him quiet when he woke up, then rushed off silently to the next mark.

The whole inside operation took all of ten minutes, and by the time he approached the group of battered prisoners, they were all watching him. The guards hadn't spotted him, but the rebels had been following his progress since he'd dropped out of the rafters — and they were anxious to get rolling.

He didn't have to say a word as he opened the makeshift cage, and as soon as they started to leave, one of them was sure to lean in and tell him what he knew.

"I'm glad to see SHIELD didn't forget about us," he said quietly. "Most of us will be fine, but we have one guy that … he's not going to make it without medical intervention." Logan looked over to see the tall tribesman that was being supported by one of the bigger men there. His right hand was missing, and his right leg was mangled and bleeding badly — though his fellow rebels had done all they could to keep him from bleeding out. "You're going to take him with, aren't you?"

"Yeah, sure," Logan agreed, though he wasn't sure the guy was going to make it all the way back for the shape he was in. "Was anyone interrogated?"

"Just the usual: who do you work for, who are you working with — and just by the one guy. Head Sentinel. He didn't get anything from anyone though."

"Where is he?" Logan asked, and the guy only smiled before another answered.

"He'll be the one right outside the front door. Vibranium helmet. A good foot taller than you, and nothing but trouble."

Logan nodded in understanding. "Give me five minutes," he said. "And we'll get your friend out of here. The rest of you going to be alright?"

"We know how to hide," the rebel promised with a smirk.

With that, Logan looked to the back entrance — the least guarded of all of them — and told the rebels to wait while he cleared the path. "Just take him to the other side of those trees," Logan directed. "I'll take him from there. I gotta go have a word with that guy, and their shift change is in just a few minutes. You should be gone by then."

The rebels looked to the dark patch of forest and didn't seem to be convinced. "Where is your backup team?"

"Get to the trees," Logan said one more time before he jogged back to the warehouse.

As promised, the man in charge of the prisoners was wandering about like he had nothing to fear. He never saw Logan coming — decked out in black, and hiding in the shadows.

In a quick move, the man was disarmed and dragged around the corner to a more private area. Logan's interrogation was quick — and totally fruitless, not that Logan had expected the guy to talk. He didn't want to leave any weapon marks, so as the Sentinel began to spit out curses and promises of a painful death for him, Logan simply and neatly broke his neck.

By the time he met up with the handful of rebels in the trees, the call was finally going up for backup from the scrambling Sentinels. Word was out already. The Head Sentinel had been murdered. They were looking for a large group — and Logan shifted gears to get the injured rebel to Harry's transport. The rest of the rebels were able to scatter, but that man wasn't going to get out on his own.

They had to duck and dodge three separate patrols on the way to the rendezvous, but as soon as the doors closed, Harry had to shake his head. "Didn't I tell you I don't do medical?"

"Didn't ask you to," Logan called back, finally breaking his silence with the old man as he turned his attention to the injured rebel and trying to make sure the guy didn't bleed out before they got back. "You're not going to die on me are you … didn't catch your name."

Naturally though, the injured man was too far out of it to say anything, and Logan wasn't expecting him to. As soon as the craft was airborne, though, he got onto the secured tablet that they used for these missions and let Hill know what was going on — and that they needed medical.

"You act like I don't plan for medical for all of your missions," she replied dryly.

"That's hilarious," he countered. "You're very funny. Very funny lady."

"Medical will be waiting," Hill promised with a badly hidden smile before she cut the transmission and Logan simply settled into a seat near his injured, unauthorized cargo.

….

July 8

District Eleven

…..

It was the second time in two days that Ororo had been sent to District Eleven, but this time, she would be on the ground. Coulson had promised that they were getting the captured rebels from their last mission freed, and Ororo's team was in charge of getting them relocated, since their identities had likely been compromised at this point anyway.

It was a simple enough job — she, Carol, and Cassie simply had to shepherd people into the large transport Carol would fly out to Nine, which was wide enough and big enough that they would be able to hide their friends until the rebellion could come out in the open.

Still, Ororo couldn't help but feel a little antsy. She was sure she knew some of the rebels in Eleven; after all, half of her "brothers" and "sisters" back home went on to be rebels after they got old enough to leave. And as she and Cassie approached the outskirts of where the rebels were being held, she couldn't help hoping to see a friendly face… or hoping not to see a friendly face, depending on what the Sentinels had done to the captured rebels.

The two young Tahiti operatives crouched by their hiding spot, and Ororo was the one to spot the black-clad operative going into the holding area. They both knew that no Tahiti operatives besides the three of them were scheduled to come to Eleven, so they weren't sure who this player was. But he was wearing a similar kind of black mission wear as they were — right down to the covered face — so they watched as he went to work, disappearing inside for a few minutes before Cassie spotted the first of the rebels making a break for the treeline.

"Go time," Cassie said, nudging Ororo, and the two girls ran quickly through the shadows to find that first rebel and make sure they got the rest of them; the last thing they wanted was to let any of them get recaptured trying to get back home now that they'd been compromised.

Of course, Coulson couldn't have picked a better team to talk to amped-up former captives, because as soon as Cassie called out a warm, "It's okay; we're on your side," the group of rebels seemed to be totally disarmed. After all, even with the mask on, they could clearly hear how young Cassie was.

"We're relocating you," Ororo explained once the whole group of them had gathered. "And we've got a medic on our transport, so if anyone here needs help, don't be a hero."

A couple of them looked put off by that for a moment, but it seemed to shift to suspicion quickly. "Was that your guy that went in there? Because he took off with the one guy that really did need some medical intervention."

Cassie and Ororo glanced at each other. "Yeah, he was on our side," Cassie said quietly. "But he's... the get in and get out guy. We're batting cleanup, more or less," she added, hoping that she was right and that she wasn't outright lying to these guys — she would have to ask Coulson when they got back.

"So you guys didn't help get him past the guards?" another one asked with a little frown.

"Nope," Cassie said, though now she was starting to smile behind her mask. "He's just that good." She had no idea who this guy was, but she liked him already — he was giving them a good rep just by association, and she wasn't above trading on it.

"Let's get going then before the Sentinels regroup," one of the older ones said. "The head guy being this quiet for this long can't be good."

"Just follow us, and stick close," Ororo said with a little nod, and both the girls and the rebels fell silent as they slipped through the shadows, away from the scrambling Sentinels.

Carol was waiting for them when they arrived, the transport prepped for takeoff. That was the other advantage to having the three of them on one team — all three knew how to pilot, so Cassie was the one to take the stick as Carol started to triage the incoming rebels, patching up the cases that needed the most attention first.

It was a long enough flight to Nine that Carol was more or less finished by the time Cassie set them down, and Ororo had seen every one of their faces and determined that she didn't know any of them more than having seen one or two of them around the district on occasion.

"We'll make sure to send your buddy once we get back to base and he's stable," Carol promised the guy she had just finished patching up.

"Good, he's a good guy. Best tinkerer we've ever had. I'd hate to lose him," the guy told her.

"I'll make sure to send him," Carol promised. "What's his name? I'll tell him you were looking out for him."

"Just ask for Forge," the guy said as Carol helped him to his feet — and Ororo, who had been ushering rebels out of the transport, couldn't help but freeze on hearing it.

To her credit, she didn't say anything as the rebels thanked the girls once more for the lift, but it hadn't escaped Carol's notice, and the older girl frowned Ororo's way for a moment with her head tipped to one side once the transport door was closed. "What's wrong?"

"Just fly fast," Ororo told her. "He's a friend."

Carol's mask didn't allow her to give away too much, so simply nodded, taking over the stick from Cassie, since of the three of them, Carol was the fastest pilot.

Still, even with as fast as Carol flew, Forge had gone with that elite guy straight back to the Capitol, and they'd had to stop off in Nine. So when Ororo came rushing out of the transport and went right to Coulson to demand to know where the rebel who needed medical attention had gone, a very surprised Coulson could only hold up both hands.

"We've got him in surgery right now," he told Ororo, though she only looked more upset on hearing that he'd been so badly hurt. "Friend of yours?" he asked, this time in a much softer and gentler tone.

"My very best," she replied, wide-eyed.

Coulson's expression turned even softer, and he took Ororo almost under his arm as he turned with her. "I'll make sure to have any updates on his condition sent directly to me. You can wait in my office until he's through it if you'd like," he told her.

"Yes, thank you," she said, all but rushing to get to his office to wait.


Tahiti Wing


Aside from the mission he'd run with Natasha running support for Victor Creed's team, of all things, Peter hadn't really been far from the rec room in the Tahiti Wing since Gwen's name was pulled. And since the Games started, he simply hadn't left, except for meals and bathroom breaks, and even then, only when he was fairly sure Gwen wasn't in immediate danger. And only when Kurt was there too so he could tell Peter if he'd missed everything.

Kurt was also a regular fixture, though he and Kate were watching in one of the other rooms together, since Kate also had two friends in the fight, and she and Cassie had nearly lost it when Billy almost died in the bloodbath. The two girls were vocal Games-watchers, so Kurt kept them in a different room and poked in to watch with Peter when he wanted a more somber, quiet atmosphere.

For the time being, though, Cassie was gone on a mission, so Kurt was watching with Kate, loathe to leave her alone in case something happened to her friends — and in the Games, that was a possibility at any given moment. Not to mention the fact that Kurt… hadn't taken it well watching Kitty's quiet tears over her district partner. For as much as he was trying to take care of Peter and the girls, he also had a friend in the fight. He didn't need to be far from Kate's quiet snuggles and kisses, not right now.

Wade had apparently decided to give Kurt a hand in taking care of the various Game-watchers. The second he saw that Peter was alone in the rec room, he'd parked himself on the couch and seemed pretty determined to stay for the duration.

"No, no, make yourself at home," Peter muttered out of the corner of his mouth, his attention on the screen in front of him as he watched Gwen and Miles teasing each other back and forth and tried not to feel to jealous — or feel to bad about feeling jealous.

Wade shook his head lightly. "Come on, Spidey, if you're like this all Games, you'll give yourself a coronary by night three." He rested his hands on Peter's shoulders and started trying to give him his interpretation of a shoulder rub, pinching his shoulders hard with both hands. "Ooh, you do carry a lot of tension, don't you?"

Peter ducked down and tried to get away. "Ouch — you lunatic. What … that's not helping!"

"It would be if you just relaxed and went with it, but you are fighting me, lover."

"That figures. Cassie leaves for five minutes and you fall for the next pretty face," Peter grumbled.

"You've got such a dreamy figure, I didn't have any choice. So girlish."

"Shut up, Wade," Peter grumped, falling back against the couch and trying to wave off Wade's attention as best he could with half an eye on the screen.

"No no, you should not be alone right now. You need physical reassurance that someone cares," Wade said as he gave Peter a side hug that Peter simply couldn't escape this time.

When Peter found that he was more or less trapped, he finally let out a very long sigh. "Look, I'm just fine. Go hug Kurt — he's the one who was moping all day after Kitty was so upset."

"I would, but he's attached already. Well. Not quite attached. But close enough to it."

"No, no, attached sounds about right for them," Peter said with a small smirk. "If the Games weren't so… you know… this would probably be the time for me to point out this is the one year anniversary of me totally calling that, too."

"You need witnesses to corroborate that claim, Mr. Spidey Pants."

"I have a tape and everything. The whole of Marvel saw me totally call it," Peter pointed out. "Just 'cause I didn't say anything to them…"

"So …. It doesn't count," Wade argued.

"Closest I can get, considering I was dead when they sealed the deal, more or less," Peter argued right back. "And Logan will back me up when he joins us."

"Yeah, you got plans for that? Gonna murder him just to complete your matched set?"

"No — and that's not me saying someone else should do it either," Peter said quickly. "So don't get any ideas, murder panda."

Wade grinned widely at that and leaned forward to give Peter his best almost-purr. "If you change your mind … you know where I am. All the time. Late at night. Alone."

"We'll just get him on our team when we get Gwen too," Peter decided. "You know, when we start incorporating more victors."

"I like that plan. It's a good plan," Wade agreed, settling in with a deep sigh. "Think she can do it without killing anyone? Be like ol' Charlie?"

"If anyone can do that, it's Gwen. She's the smartest person I know," Peter said with a firm, decisive nod and a tone that was simply not to be argued with.

"Then you can look forward to my remarks at your nuptials," Wade decided.

Peter goggled at Wade for a moment. "O-kay. That… you skipped ahead about nine thousand steps there, Wade."

"Oh come on, you act like she's not going to just … melt all over the place when she sees you again. It'll be worse than when Kart was created." He brought both hands together in front of Peter's face, and when they met, he made little explosion sounds. "Magical."

"I dunno, Wade. It's been a year…"

"A year of her pining."

"I think you have your spiders mixed up. That was definitely me who was doing that. Gwen… Gwen doesn't pine, I'm pretty sure," Peter said, shaking his head with a small frown.

"Two-way street, princess," he said. "She was so pining. Only thing missing was the widow's walk."

Peter rolled his eyes at that one. "You're so dramatic."

"You love it," Wade replied before he leaned forward and kissed Peter on the cheek.

Peter shook his head and pushed Wade back by the shoulders. "Shouldn't you be at the hangar? The girls should be back soon."

"Oh, they won't be back that quick. It wasn't just a down and back. They had to stop off in another district. You've got me for a little while." Wade paused and made a little noise as if he was weighing it out. "Aaaaaaand I promised that I'd keep you company until your other Awesomes can spell me."

"Oh great. You're never going to leave," Peter said with as straight a face as he could manage. "Those two aren't leaving anytime soon."

"Ma-aybe," he admitted. "But I told them that you hadn't eaten and they needed to feed the spider."

"You what?" Peter turned to face Wade and looked slightly betrayed. "You can't tell that to Kate. She'll… she'll try to force-feed me or something just because she thinks it's funny."

"She did mention something about an airplane …"

"She's ridiculous. I'm the oldest and they act like… gah."

"No, darling, I'm the oldest. You keep forgetting that," Wade said as he patted Peter's cheek affectionately.

"I'm the oldest awesome without Logan around," Peter clarified.

"Oh. well. That's different," Wade said before he paused for a moment. "Hey! Does that mean you don't want me in your awesomes?"

"Didn't Kate give you the speech? It has to be unanimous. Logan's gotta okay you," Peter said with a widening smirk.

"But … he … hasn't even been an Awesome for … almost a year! He should be out by default!"

"That doesn't count; that's Fury's fault," Peter pointed out, starting to grin as Wade got more and more dramatic about his pouting.

"But that's just not fair!"

"Take it up with the Kart committee," Peter said.

"That'll never work my way," he pouted. "Unless…. I tell them it was your idea." He grinned widely and got to his feet. "Yeah. It was all Peter's idea."

"What? Wait, no!"

"Too late! You said it!"

"I did not!" Peter scrambled to his feet too.

"You did! No take-sie back-sies!" Wade was edging toward the door, grinning like a fool.

"Wade!" Peter rushed over, but Wade slipped away from him, cackling madly all the way down the hall — and having definitely succeeded in distracting Peter from the Games.


The only clue that anyone currently occupied the main Tahiti training room was the echoing sound of dull thumps that resonated even through the closed door. Sinthea had been sure to leave the lights off, wanting to avoid any sort of confrontation from either tributes or agents. As it stood now, she remained perfectly content, if the state of grieving she occupied could be called that, to hit the punching bag currently hanging a foot from her fists.

Her silent tears also appreciated the lack of light. No one wanted to see those. Least of all Sin herself. Sin hadn't cried at the news of Grandma Scarbo's death, and half of her mind kept saying that no one deserved tears. Yet if anyone in this world deserved, warranted tears, Brock Rumlow was it.

Sin threw a huge swing at the punching bag which hung before her, rattling the chains that held it fast above. With a second punch, the bag began to rock harder. The sounds echoed through the gym and seemed to make the doors rattle as well. Part of her wanted to take off the protective hand wraps and treat this like a real fight, but she knew injuring herself was a one-way ticket to trouble.

"Idiot going and getting himself killed," she seethed aloud, landing two more blows. "Idiot was supposed to win."

"Lots of idiots are supposed to win." The soft, deep voice came out of the shadows and startled her, only for a moment. "Lots of smart people, too. We can't have everything." Even in the dark, she knew it was her district partner standing some ten feet away. "Are you winning against the bag? It looks ready to give up." He made no attempt to move closer to her, or to turn on any lights. You didn't become close to Sinthea Schmidt by doing things like that. You became close just by being around.

"What are you doing here, Bruce?" she muttered, half angrily, half in defeat. She knew she wouldn't be rid of her district partner too easily. "You all should know by now — no one should be around me when I'm angry."

"Yes, I'm petrified, Sin. You're a terror." She could almost see his grin in the dark before he spoke more seriously. "Just wanted to make sure you're still in one piece."

She scrunched up her face and swung another massive punch-kick combo at the bag. She knew her father probably felt just as angry as she, but for a different reason. Johann Schmidt had wanted a win for pride. But not Sinthea. Sin had needed a win so Crossbones didn't have to go through the same horrors of death and reanimation as she had.

Still, this idea of reanimation did provide some small comfort. If Crossbones was placed anywhere, it would be on a strike team, not in a lab. Sin nearly laughed at the thought of Brock trying to do science.

Finally, she spoke again. "I'm in one piece. Stupid idiot up there isn't. But I suppose the Gamemakers will see to that soon enough."

A quiet sigh came from his general direction. "Look at it this way: you'll both have gone through it. Does it stink to high heaven? Yes. But you'll have yet another shared experience. And we've gotten the process down so that there is even less trouble with it… I'm sure he'll be okay, Sin."

"Shared experiences aren't important when that shared experience is being slaughtered and brought back," she muttered to herself for a moment, almost incoherently.

Bruce moved in the dark, and his voice was closer, more intense. "I saw you dead, Sin. I was there. I saw you broken, and not just on a screen." His tone had become tight, more emotional. "You were so cold…" A deep breath shuddered in the gym before he spoke again. "Seeing you brought back was a gift."

Her face grew tight, her eyes scrunched closed, as she remembered the moment Ultron had come stomping down the sewer system, the moment his cold, metal hand had gripped her throat. Her last thoughts had been for Crossbones. But in recent days, the pain of those memories had been getting worse. She decided to cover it up with a smirk.

"I'm sure it was tough, I guess… Most people wanted rid of me, like Tony." She laughed. "Not that I blame him." With a pause, Sin shook her head, switching subjects from that very uncomfortable one. "At least here I can keep his ass out of trouble."

Bruce hesitated for only a moment before going with her change of tone. "I'm sure he'll need it. Amazing he's made it this far without you keeping an eye on him…"

She let out a harsh laugh, almost a combination of real humor and a bit of sadness. "That boy is the definition of trouble. Can't do anything without me. Except make more trouble — that he can do."

"I can see why you like him so much." The phrase hung in the air for a moment, and Bruce wondered if he'd stepped in it and backpedalled. "I mean, it seems like…"

"He's alright," she muttered. "We'll see where we stand once he's, you know, not dead."

Banner couldn't help the laugh that barked out into the dark. "Yeah, that. That'll probably help." He paused and sounded a bit more like an older brother when he went on. "But remember, Sin, he's been without you — without seeing you — for a long time. He thinks you're dead. So it's going to be a bit of a shock if he's… ah… moved on at all." He frowned at himself, shuffling his feet against the mats. "I just don't want you to get hurt," he said quietly.

It was Sin's turn to laugh. "Yeah, if I found out that giant jerk got a girl while I was gone, I'd congratulate him myself." She looked straight at Bruce, her eyes having long adjusted to the dark, and she shook her head. "All I want is my friend back. And as you said, shared experience and all that crap, maybe that'll help him." Then, she swung straight at the punching bag again. "Still, a few good punches in the face could also help speed up the process."

"It might." He grinned at her and stepped up to the bag, taking position behind it. "Listen, I'll hold first. I haven't punched anything today yet either, and I could use a little hitting myself, if that's okay with you."

Sin smirked and shook her head, holding her hands up in defeat. "Alright. Don't say I didn't warn you that this girl is going to kick your ass."

"Wouldn't be the first time, won't be the last… go."

The muffled thumps of the attack on the punching bag sounded even outside the door, so passersby occasionally stopped and tried to see into the dark room. But Sinthea just continued, uninterrupted, her assault on the innocent bag. Only two men in the entire world made Sin not only not uncomfortable, but even slightly more comforted. One was now dead, but the other held the bag fast. And she was alright with that.