"Don't worry about what to show the Gamemakers," Sue had said. "Just do what you can. You're not going to get a high enough score to merit sponsors based on that, and that's fine. High scores make you a target."
High scores make you a target, Kurt repeated to himself as he stood outside the door, waiting to go in. Finn was in there now, showing the Gamemakers what he could do. He'd picked up the staff pretty easily, or at least, Kurt thought so. He'd probably get a six or a seven. Whereas Kurt… well, he at least knew which end of the knife to hold.
"You okay?" Blaine asked him.
Kurt nodded. "Sure," he said, his voice sounding higher than normal in his ears. "Never better."
Blaine laughed. "You don't have to pretend, you know. Although it's oddly cute. Not that it should be," he backtracked. "But it is."
"Cute." Kurt couldn't help smirking. "Exactly how I want to be viewed in the arena." But exactly what he'd want Blaine to say if they were safe back in District 8, the Hunger Games a horror happening to someone else.
Blaine smiled. He had such a nice smile, Kurt thought, and then reminded himself that Blaine was the enemy.
"Kurt Hummel." His name was called from the door.
"Oh god, that's me." Kurt's stomach turned over uncomfortably.
"Knock 'em dead," Blaine said, nudging him with his shoulder.
Kurt took a deep breath and headed into the gymnasium. The door slammed shut behind him, echoing off the walls. The Gamemakers were seated at a table against the wall, eating and talking quietly. Kurt had no idea what he was supposed to do.
Of all the weapons he'd picked up, he was the most confident with a knife. He chose one- a big, flashy one that would catch the light, and then had no idea what to do from there. Knifing a dummy wasn't impressive.
"I need a partner," he said, as imperiously as possible. The tone of his voice made a Gamemaker raise her eyebrow with what Kurt hoped was interest, and he kept his head up as he waited for one of the instructors to be brought in.
He'd learned a lot in the past three days, he discovered, and managed to demonstrate several throws and blocks. They weren't pretty, but they were effective, and he felt a grim satisfaction when the instructor actually grimaced in pain.
But how the hell did you show survival skills? Both Kurt and Finn had spent a lot of time at those stations, but lighting a fire or telling a nightlock berry from blueberries wasn't flashy or impressive. High scores make you a target he heard Sue saying in his head.
"I don't know what you want from me," he said finally, pulling himself up. "Cameras might be prohibited in the gymnasium, but there's no way you don't know what I can and can't do. Or what I am. And if you think that surviving in District 8 when you're obviously gay is easy, you're dead wrong. So there you go- that's what I can do. That's what I've been doing for the past seventeen years. Surviving. And it's what I'll keep doing, until I can't anymore." He lifted his head high and stormed out the door.
His knees obligingly waited until he was out of the gymnasium to start shaking.
***
"I wish they'd show footage of the training," Carole said, sitting down beside Burt on the couch and handing him his mug of tea.
"It would just scare us to see the other tributes," Burt said.
"I know. But it would just…" It would just give us another chance to see them, Carole wanted to say. But Burt's scowl made her hold her tongue.
She didn't expect Burt to be all happiness and sunshine after the boys were taken. Hell, she could barely keep it together herself, and the only thing that was holding her together was the knowledge that if something happened to her because of inattention at work, Burt would never be able to take it. That, and the slim hope that one of the boys would win and come home. Carole had already decided that, if that happened, she would forgive anything - anything- that the boy had done in the arena, even if he'd killed his brother in cold blood. But the truth was, watching Burt's anger was hard. It was hard because he held it all in and locked her out. They might live in the same apartment, but Carole was pretty sure they weren't living together.
She held her tongue, though, because she understood. Everyone coped with grief and anxiety in different ways, and Burt's way wasn't her way. She got up, flicked on the television, and watched as the seal showed and the anthem played.
There were no New Directions kids here tonight. Carole wondered how she felt about that as Caesar Flickerman went through his opening monologue, explaining the training scores. On the one hand, tonight was an easy night to watch. On the other, the apartment was so quiet she could hear the drip of the leaky faucet in the bathroom and the sound of Peacekeepers patrolling outside, making sure everyone was near a television.
She watched as they started showing headshots of the various tributes. The Career tributes from Districts 1, 2, and 4 looked terrifying to her. It was hard to tell their heights, but their faces were filled out in a way that Kurt and Finn's weren't, and their shoulders were bulky and strong. There was something about their eyes, too. Something hard and cold. It made Carole shudder just to look at them. Their scores were high, too, most of them ranging from eight to ten, although a girl from District 1 scored an eleven.
Finally, they got to District 8. Carole sat on the edge of the couch, and even Burt leaned forward. They started with the girls, showing a shot of Celia first. She was probably the youngest, and even in her head shot she looked terrified. Her score was a two. Carole sighed, because those were the worst, the little ones. Then Emily, who rated a seven.
Then Finn's face flashed on the screen, sending a shock through her system like she'd touched something too hot or too cold. He was wearing a shirt she didn't recognize and a little half smile, and under his name there appeared a five. Five. Carole twisted her fingers together. She stared at the screen hungrily until Finn's face was gone and Caesar Flickerman returned.
Kurt's face came up next. He had his arms crossed and a small smirk on his lips, the way she'd seen him when he was faced with someone he really did not like and that put him on the defensive. He got a score of six.
Burt grunted. "I thought Finn would score higher than Kurt."
"Kurt didn't score much higher," Carole said. "And both of them scored middle range."
Burt looked at her, the flat glare she'd seen Kurt use on people he thought were being stupid. "Which means what?" he asked. "What's possibly good about that, Carole?"
"I don't know. I just… Burt, I just have to believe that there's something positive here, okay? That they have some kind of chance. I have to look for anything I can cling to, because there's not much hope here and I can't handle that!" A sob ripped out of her on the last words.
Burt's face crumpled, and he leaned in and put his arms around Carole, pulling her close. "Hey," he said softly. "Hey. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have… you and me, we're not the ones we should be fighting." He wiped a thumb across her cheek. "I'm sorry. I know this is just as hard on you as it is on me. I'm sorry I haven't been…."
"No. I understand. How are we supposed to get through this?" Carole asked bitterly. "This isn't supposed to happen. To anyone."
"Someone said something to me once," Burt said slowly. "When Kurt was born. They said that having a child was to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body." Carole shivered. "Yeah, I know. That's what I did, too, the first time I heard it. Well, I've had to watch Kurt go through all the normal things. The learning to walk and the falling down and the scrapes and bruises and dealing with the bullies… watching your kid suffer hurts. I don't know how much I can take it."
He looked so broken and lost that Carole couldn't be angry. Not at him. She nodded and swallowed around the lump in her throat. They'd get through this. Not because there was something so much better waiting on the other side, but because there was literally no other choice.
***
A five. Finn wasn't sure how he felt about that as they watched the TV in the dining room where all of them ate.
"Don't dwell on it, Stretch," Sue said, patting him on the shoulder. "We can work with it."
"Yeah, but-"
"Don't dwell on it."
Finn pressed his lips together and looked at Julius. They'd barely seen their escort the past few days, but now he was back in the room, a silent and brooding presence. But it was impossible to tell what he was thinking. He looked over at Kurt, who had scored a six. Finn didn't want to admit he was a little stung that Kurt had scored higher than him, but he was.
"Well," Sue said, clapping her hands together and standing up, "tomorrow we're going to work on the interviews. You," she said to Finn, "should be pretty easy. Just keep the big dumb puppy thing going, and that ought to charm people. It's your little brother here we have to worry about."
"Little brother?" Kurt said.
"He's two months older than me!" Finn protested.
"He's smaller," Julius said. "And you work as the protective one. He's your little brother now." It was the same tone of voice he'd used when he informed Kurt that his mother had died of pneumonia and not starvation. Finn looked at Kurt, who was looking just as disgruntled as he felt. Julius ignored them. "You're the problem," he said to Kurt. "Sarcastic and superior doesn't play well. We need you to go for vulnerable and innocent."
"Vulnerable and innocent," Kurt repeated. "Because that's going to make me seem like a warrior."
"Because that's going to make you seem like a hot piece of ass and a sweet little brother," Julius corrected. "The interviews are all about getting sponsors. That's it."
Finn's stomach turned at the thought, but Kurt pressed his lips together and nodded. "I can do that," he said.
Sue patted him on the shoulder. "We'll see," she said. Her words were sharp but her tone was warm and confident. Finn's heart sank further.
A six in training. More interview coaching. Sue's approval- veiled though it was- and the way Julius was nodding. It didn't take an idiot to see who everyone was betting on.
Finn scowled and headed out onto the terrace. To his surprise, he wasn't the only one out there. Woof and Celia were sitting on a bench. Celia was crying into Woof's shoulder.
"It's okay," Woof kept telling her. "It's okay. Look, sweetie, people have won with bad training scores before." He caught her chin and tipped her face up. "You know what they gave me when I was in the Games? A three."
"But that's still better than a two!" Celia wailed, and then buried her face in Woof's shoulder again.
"Shh." He rocked her back and forth. "It's going to be okay, baby. Just remember what I told you. When that gong sounds, get off your plate and go right in to get as much as you can. You're little- no one will pay attention to you."
No one will pay attention to you. Finn had seen enough games to know that was the biggest piece of bullshit he'd ever heard and opened his mouth to say so. But Woof's head whipped around and he shook his head furiously at Finn.
Huh. Finn hadn't even thought Woof knew he was there.
The terrace was obviously off limits, so Finn retreated back inside and drifted to his room. He didn't feel like talking to Kurt tonight, and he really didn't want to see Sue or Julius. He sat down on the bed and stared at the floor. He was still sitting there when someone knocked on the door.
"Come in."
In retrospect, Finn really wasn't that surprised to see Woof come in. But at the time, all he felt was confusion. He hadn't talked to Woof before this, and Woof had stayed almost exclusively with Celia.
"Thank you for staying quiet out on the terrace," Woof said before Finn could say anything.
"What are you doing?" Finn demanded. "Telling her to go into the bloodbath? She's going to get killed! There's no way you don't know that!"
"You're right," Woof said heavily. "She is going to get killed. Quickly, because the Careers won't have time to draw out her death with others around to fight. She'll get killed before she has to endure the arena and the hunger and the thirst and the cold or heat or the muttations they'll send at you. It will be quick."
"You can't do that," Finn said. "You've got to give her a chance."
"She doesn't have a chance." Woof sat down on the bed next to him. "Listen, Finn. If you win these Games-"
"I'm not going to win these Games," Finn said bitterly. "No one thinks so."
"No one thought I would, either," Woof said. "If you win these Games, you're going to discover what it means to be a mentor. That there are kids that have a chance. It might be slim, like it is for Kurt, or it might be reasonable, like it is for you and Emily, but there are kids with a chance. And then there are kids with no chance at all. And those kids… the kindest thing you can do is limit their suffering."
"But you don't know," Finn insisted. "You don't-"
"I do know. It's not easy, Finn. It's not something we do with every tribute. But sometimes, you just know. Celia hasn't stopped crying since she was called in the reaping. She doesn't have the steel. She shouldn't have to have the steel, she's a child." Woof dropped his head into his hands. "She's just a kid." It took a minute to realize that Woof was crying.
"Hey," Finn said, patting Woof on the back awkwardly. "Hey. It's okay. I mean, I guess you're doing what you can." He was starting to get it now. He didn't like it, but maybe there was something to it. Kurt was scared of dying alone. Finn was scared that dying was going to hurt. A quick death… yeah. Maybe that was best. "I shouldn't have interrupted you guys out there."
Woof was pulling himself together. "No. You didn't realize we were there. I'm sorry. I should not have ever put my burden on the shoulders of a tribute. It was inexcusable."
"I never thought about what it's like for people who win the Games," Finn admitted. He wondered what it was like for Sue, to have to watch them. To have to coach them, knowing that at least one of them would lose. And to do it year after year. Woof had won the thirteenth Hunger Games. That meant he'd coached at least forty-seven- no, wait- thirty-seven kids. Maybe more, because one boy, one girl. And the only other two victors to help him were Grace and Sue.
No, wait. The only two who'd lived were Grace and Sue. It hit Finn with the force of a meteor- this guy had coached at least thirty-seven kids, probably more like sixty or something, and only two had survived.
"How do you do it?" he asked. "How do you get through it?"
"Because I have to. If you win the Games, you'll find out." Woof was back to himself now, and stood up. "I am truly sorry, Finn. Sorry that I broke down like that, and sorry that you had to overhear what I'm telling Celia. If I can give you any comfort, it's this. You have a chance. It's not much, but it's all you've got. And I'll give you a piece of advice, too. This is the Hunger Games. Stay by your brother. Ally with him. But whatever you do, be ready for him to turn on you. Because only one of you can win, and when it comes down to life or death, you'll both want to live."
"Okay," Finn said, more than a little creeped out. "Thanks."
Woof smiled grimly and then let himself out. Finn sat on his bed, staring into space and trying to work it all out.
***
"All right," Raven said, circling Kurt like a vulture again. "Let's do this."
Kurt was tired from his hours of working with Sue and Julius, but in the end, they'd both been pleased. Acting was something Kurt was reasonably good at, and vulnerable and innocent… well, it wasn't the hardest thing to pull off. But right now he didn't feel like being vulnerable and innocent. He was testy and tense and angry, and Raven crowding him like the bird of prey he was named for did not help one bit.
"Tell me I'm not going to be naked this time," Kurt snapped.
"You weren't naked last time," Raven said. "There was cotton. But yes, we do want to play up the promise of sex appeal."
In the end, Kurt found himself dressed in what he could best describe as a web. There was strategic weaving at least, and he didn't feel naked, but at the same time it clung to him, highlighting every aspect of his body. Little crystals of different colors gleamed along the threads, and somehow his skin stood out in contrast despite the paleness of it. When he looked in the mirror, it reminded him of the looms before the fabric was done. The threads were white, and Raven styled his hair and did his makeup so he looked very, very young.
Finn was dressed different from him this time. Raven had put him in tight black leather pants and a red shirt that looked so silky soft Kurt couldn't resist touching it. Finn looked older, a little more dangerous. And yes, protective. Kurt was over Finn, and he knew that, but for a moment he wanted nothing more than to curl up in Finn's arms and just be held. He took his place next to Finn in the line, both of them staring straight ahead like they weren't speaking to each other and their alliance had been broken. Kurt could feel the others watching them.
"Wow."
Kurt turned around to see Blaine approaching, along with his mentor Wes Graven and the other tributes from District 10. Wes was very young- he'd won the Games only two years ago. "You look great," Blaine said, openly admiring.
"You look good, too," Kurt said. Blaine was dressed in soft leather. It wasn't the tight stuff like Finn was wearing, but it was flattering and made him look adorable.
If they were back in District 8… well, would he be able to look at Blaine so openly? District 8 was not the friendliest of places when it came to these things, and Blaine might be more reserved there. But if Kurt had lived in District 10, from the sounds of things, he would be able to look like he was looking now. He'd be able to smile and to flirt and to express interest without worrying that being called a faggot in his own home was the kindest reaction he would receive.
Blaine's eyes were still locked on him, and he was smiling. "I don't look half as good as you do," he said. "You know, if you wanted-"
"Blaine, come on," Wes ordered him. "We need to get to our places."
Blaine looked like he wanted to argue, but Wes just glared at him. As Wes pulled him away, he turned back and winked at Kurt. Kurt's heart leapt, but then he remembered none of it mattered because one or both of them could easily be dead tomorrow. Heck, Blaine could be the one to kill him tomorrow... or he could be the one to kill Blaine. He shivered. One more instance of finally getting what he dreamed of, only to find how terrible it was turning out to be.
Sue grabbed his arm and hustling him into line. "Come on," she said, grabbing Finn's arm as well. "It's time." They were herded into line, and then the forty-eight tributes all made their way onto the stage.
The stage was huge, with chairs lined up in a large double semi-circle. The District 8 tributes sat in the back row. The crowd was a mass of colors, with giant screens hanging all around to help those in the back see better. In his darkest hours in District 8, Kurt had dreamed about being in front of a cheering crowd, wearing something fabulous, the crowd screaming his name. Now he had what he'd wanted the most, and all he wanted was to turn around and run. Instead, he sat down in his chair next to Finn. Finn smiled at him, and Kurt tried to smile back. But his face felt frozen. The chair was cold where his skin peeped through the holes of his costume.
It was amazing how time could simultaneously speed up and slow down. Kurt's legs and butt were sore from sitting, but before he knew it, Finn was called to the stage. Kurt watched him head down, and could see his face on the giant screens above the crowd. Caesar Flickerman, in the twinkling blue suit he'd worn for the five years that he'd emceed the games, was extending a hand.
"So," he said to Finn as the applause died down, "this is pretty historic, isn't it? We've had brothers and sisters before, but they've never played in the same Games. You and your brother are the first. Are you excited?"
"It's… what did you say? Historic," Finn agreed.
"Now, I understand that you and Kurt there aren't blood brothers, is that right?" Caesar asked.
Finn shook his head. "No. I mean, yeah, that's right. My dad died when I was a baby, and his mom died when he was eight. We go to school together, and Kurt introduced our parents. They got married last year."
"What an absolutely lovely story," Caesar said, and there were a lot of people in the crowd sighing. "It's wonderful to see two people have such hope after great loss, don't you think?
Finn stared at him for a long moment. "Yeah," he said finally, his mouth working. Kurt knew him well enough to see that Finn was trying to hide his revulsion. "We were real happy for them."
"As everyone knows, you're allowed to carry a token from your home District into the Arena. Let's talk about your token a little, shall we, Finn?" Caesar said. "What is it?"
"Uh, it's my dad's wedding ring." Caesar held out his hand and Finn put his hand in it, and the cameras zoomed in. "Kurt's got his mom's," Finn explained, and automatically, Kurt fidgeted with the silver ring that was too small to fit on any finger but his pinky. "Our parents gave them to us."
"So moving," Caesar said. He turned to the crowd. "Don't you think? What a story!" They cheered, loudly.
He asked Finn more questions about school and about his life at home, and Finn relaxed a little. The audience was loving him, though. That didn't surprise Kurt. Everyone loved Finn- it was one of his gifts. Kurt knew that better than anyone. Kurt closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to school his mind to where it needed to be. Vulnerable and innocent, he reminded himself, and in his head he saw Sue and Julius standing over him, raking over every word and gesture. Vulnerable and innocent.
The burst of applause broke his concentration, and he opened his eyes and let out his breath. Finn was walking back, looking relieved and triumphant. The crowd was still applauding. Finn sat down next to Kurt, his breath coming out in a whoosh and a pleased smile still on his face. He winked, just a quick, little gesture, and Kurt couldn't help but smile. The crowd finally began to quiet, and Caesar Flickerman turned back to face them.
"Let's hear from the brother himself, Kurt Hummel!" he called, and as Kurt stood and walked up, the crowd roared back to life again. The applause washed over him in waves, and he did his best to blush.
"Kurt," Caesar Flickerman's voice was warm. "What a night, huh? You look amazing."
"Thank you," Kurt said, and he was relieved to hear his voice shaking. Good. He was damn good. He could do this.
"Can you turn around for the audience?" Caesar asked, and Kurt obeyed. There was applause and wolf whistles, and Kurt deepened his blush. It wasn't hard- all he had to do was remind himself that Finn hadn't been asked to do this. "Wow," Caesar repeated. "So. We know that you're here with your brother, and we know that you're wearing your mother's wedding ring as a token. What I'd like to know is what it was like for you to become brothers so late in life. Was it difficult?"
Vulnerable and innocent, Kurt reminded himself. "No, not at all," he lied. "Finn is so easy to get along with. It was nice to have a brother."
"Rumor has it," Caesar said, nudging Kurt, "you liked him quite a bit, didn't you?" For a moment, Kurt felt like he'd stepped into too bright a light and had been frozen. The fight, he remembered. He'd brought it here himself. "It's okay, Kurt," Caesar said reassuringly. "I'm sure you're not at all alone in that reaction to Finn Hudson. Am I right?" he asked the crowd. There were hoots and applause. "But tell us, Kurt, how did you meet Finn?"
Kurt had told the story before, of course, many times and with many different embellishments to Mercedes. Mercedes, who would roll her eyes and tell him to get over his hopeless crush, and that Finn stopping Puck from bullying him once- which was no more than any decent human being should do- didn't mean he deserved Kurt's undying devotion. He pretended he was telling the story to Mercedes again, with all the shy gushing that he could manage. The Capitol didn't respond the same as Mercedes did, though. There were sighs and squeals.
"So, things didn't work out between you two, right?" he said, draping his arm around Kurt's shoulders and turning him to face the crowd.
"Well, not that way, no," Kurt said. "Finn remains lamentably straight. But sometimes things work out better than what you wanted."
"Really?"
"Really. I used to hope that Finn would be my boyfriend. I used to dream about us being together, but I knew it wasn't going to last. If I was honest with myself, I knew it wasn't going to happen. But I couldn't help it."
He took a deep breath. "And then, one day, I introduced our parents and they hit it off. And I had to stop thinking of Finn that way. Things happened, and Finn… Finn changed. I changed. We'd both made so many mistakes and then…" he swallowed. He'd planned to cry, but it was happening naturally now, and he turned to face Finn. "I wanted a boyfriend. What I got was so much more than that. I got a brother. And I would rather have that brother than the boyfriend I was dreaming about any day of the week."
The audience sighed at that, and Finn stood up. Caesar let Kurt leave his side, and Kurt met Finn in the middle of the stage and hugged him. Finn's arms were tight around him, and he smelled like home.
"Let's give a warm round of applause to our brothers and wish them the best of luck!" Caesar shouted, and the audience responded. He gestured that Kurt and Finn should both return to their seats, and Kurt was only too happy to oblige. The interview was over, and judging by the audience's reactions, he'd done well.
Next to him, Finn smiled.
***
It could be their last night alive. It was a cliché, but it was true. After the interviews, he and Kurt had done the icy act until they'd gotten back to the Training Tower, and then come out here on the terrace, both of them still in their interview outfits. Julius had flatly told them they should watch the recaps on television, but Sue had hauled him off and they'd escaped.
Finn had meant to have a long, deep conversation with Kurt. If he was honest, he'd kind of pictured tears and promises and all that. But what happened instead was they sat outside eating peaches and singing every song they could remember from glee club. They didn't talk about home or each other, they just sang.
And really, if he could have picked, this was way Finn would have wanted to remember Kurt anyway. And he knew it was the way Kurt wanted to remember him.
***
"Porcelain."
"Sue." Kurt looked up as she came into his room. "Do you have any idea how I'm supposed to get out of this?" he asked. "Raven pretty much laced me in, and I don't know-"
"I didn't come here for a round of girl talk," Sue cut him off. "I came here to go over the plan."
Any enjoyment Kurt was feeling over his costume leeched off his face. "Right. The plan. We've been over it before."
"Let me hear it one more time," Sue ordered.
"Stick with Finn," Kurt answered. "Keep an alliance. Get supplies. And then take care of him."
"Be more specific."
Kurt winced, and Sue hated having to do this. But winning the Hunger Games meant having to do things you didn't want to do. She stared him down.
"Kill him," Kurt finally said. "Or if I don't have the guts, step back and let someone do it for me."
"Right."
Kurt picked at his cobwebs, and then looked up. "There's just one thing. How will I know when I should do it? The number of tributes left?"
"I'll send you a signal when it's time," Sue promised. "If you receive a gift and you can't think of why I would possibly send it to you, that's your signal."
"All right." Kurt sat down slowly on his bed. "And there's not any other way?"
"Not that I can see."
He nodded silently, obviously upset. But to his credit, he didn't argue with her. "All right. Thank you, by the way."
"Don't thank me yet," Sue said. "It's only just beginning."
"I know. But there's a good chance I won't get to say it afterwards."
Sue sighed. "You're a smart kid, Kurt," she said sadly. "And if you win, that's going to be what does it. Get some sleep. You've got a big day tomorrow." She opened his door. "Oh, and just tear the costume off. It's not like anyone else is going to want to touch it anyway."
He gave her a tremulous smile, and she had to leave before she could let herself think. She went into her own room and sat in the chair, staring out the window at the darkness and the lights for the remainder of the night.