A/N: In my story for the 2nd Games, Cliff Archer dies in second place. The second part of this chapter is an alternate universe in which Cliff had won the Games. Wow, this turned out long, sorry! :X
Crunch!
I gasp and whirl around, making sure nobody heard the sound.
If Crawley found out I was sneaking around the darkest part of the District at night, he'd murder me!
Luckily for me, nobody seems to have heard, and nobody seems to be following me. I breathe a quiet sigh of relief before continuing to skip across the dark streets without people noticing.
I walk until I get to the area close to where the electric fence is located. The area in front of the fence has some trees and bushes, practically like a mini-forest. I've always wanted to venture into the forest on the other side of the fence, but it's electric and new enough that there are no big holes for me to slip through. So, I live with that.
But, I'm not just here for the woods. Crawley would kill me already for sneaking out of the house for weeks straight, but he'd kill me again if he knew why. I pace in a tight circle, waiting. I step on some leaves that crunch quietly, but not loud enough for anyone near to hear.
Suddenly I hear a loud whoosh! and hear the rustling of leaves on a tree. Even though it's happened for weeks straight now, I still jump.
I look over as my eyes change from how wide they were to their normal size. The challenging gray eyes that look at me practically glow in the dark, smiling at me.
"Hello, Rebecca."
I blinks, facing him. "Hi." I notice he has two loaves of bread in his arms.
He flashes me a toothy smile and says, "Got a large bounty tonight."
"Wonderful." I have to smile at him. The first time he suggested we meet late at night, I felt so guilty for sneaking out. But now it's just become normal for me to do and I don't even feel guilty. That can be both good and bad.
Presley Klara is a boy that I met the day that Platinum Krietzer, the first Victor, came to District 12 for his Victory Tour. He was in my year at school, we were both seven years old at the time. But I had never talked to him before then. After his sister Chicory died in the Games, he was absent from school for two weeks. My brother Dill died in the same Games.
He talked to me that day of the Victory Tour, because he noticed how sad I was. Natalie was too young to understand, and Miranda and Crawley were old enough that they were able to hide their sadness. But I was just the age that I went into such a depressed stage. It's probably why he never went to school.
I didn't talk to anyone except my siblings, and I had to get used to the gaping hole that had been left in my life. It was terrible, and it's something that I'll never forget it. Then, the very next year, we lost Cliff, too. Even though he wasn't very loving, or very nice, he had a fondness for Miranda especially but also myself, and he had such a soft spot for Natalie. He had love in him… He just never showed it.
Crawley was glad, though he tried to act like he wasn't. Even so, the Games have changed him, and not for the better. He drinks more than is healthy, and Natalie sells her body more than is healthy, though she's only eighteen. Miranda works more than is healthy, too. I work, too. That's how I met Presley the second time: he was in my mining team for a while, and we bonded enough that we decided that we wanted to meet outside the mines. We bonded some more, and then he let me in on his largest secret: Presley Klara is a thief. He often sneaks into the bakery at night and takes enough that it isn't noticeable. Sometimes he steals more than just a little, because the bakers either don't notice or don't care.
When I told him about my family, he started to give me a share of what he stole. Soon it was a perfect half-and-half. Later, his mother passed away and he started to give me three-quarters. He said that the bread is more use to us than it is to just two people. He keeps enough for the two of them to get by, and I get the rest.
We got together a while before that happened, though. Now we meet every other night here, and he gives me bread and we have conversations.
Tonight, he takes half a loaf and gives me the other one and a half loaves. I've learned to stop being shocked at his gifts and just accept them graciously. I put them in the sack I'd brought with me just for that purpose. Then, I wrap my arms around his neck and whisper, "Thank you." He hugs me around the waist and whispers, "It's always a pleasure when I know it's for you."
"You're keeping us alive, Pres. Really. We couldn't sustain ourselves without you."
He smiles and whispers, "It's all worth it after all." His lips press to the top of my head and I smiles, burrowing my face in his chest and allowing myself to take in his smell. I feel his face press into my hair and he murmurs, "Beautiful…"
I blush lightly but smile. "Thanks…"
"Don't have to thank me for speaking the truth, my dear Rebecca…"
He always knows how to make me giggle. I giggle quietly and then end up yawning. Guess all of this sneaking out is making me really tired.
"Tired?" he asks quietly, not letting go of me. He sways with me gently and I take the time to enjoy having his arms around me.
"Yeah, I'm just a little bit tired…" I whisper, putting my chin on his chest and gazing up at him. His lips graze mine briefly before he kisses me softly. My eyes shut slowly and I kiss back, trying to have the same gentle diligence as he does. Then he pulls back, brushing my hair behind my ear.
"You should probably get home, dear," he says quietly.
"Probably… But I love being here so much, Pres."
He smiles and chuckles quietly into my hair, which he strokes with a calm and gentle rhythm. I don't want to leave his warm embrace. I don't want to leave him.
See… Crawley doesn't know I have a boyfriend.
And he certainly doesn't know that said boyfriend is a thief. But Crawley doesn't have to know about my thief boyfriend. Crawley would have a heart attack, especially at the fact that he's a Klara. We can save it until we decide, in the future, to have a toasting ceremony in secret and then I'll tell all of them what happened. Or, if he breaks my heart, I'll get Crawley to go kick his sorry ass. Whichever happens first.
I breathe a small sigh and smile at him. "I'll talk to you later, I promise. I'm just… So tired…"
He nods, "I understand, don't worry. I'll see you tomorrow."
He lets me go and gives me one last kiss gently on the forehead, then one more on the lips, before slinking back into the dark shadows of the night and disappearing.
I smile after him, collecting my bread and quietly sneaking back to the house. I leave the bread on the table and creep quietly back up to my room, leaving the loaves of bread on the table.
AU: Set during the Victory Tour
CLIFF'S POV
High, whiny violins play in the main ballroom of the huge presidential mansion that belongs to President fucking Augustus.
I hate the man. He's put me through so much. I won his fucking Games and I'm still not done with his torture. I'll never be done with his torture.
Suddenly a loud and very classical-sounding song begins to play, and I see Platinum Krietzer in front of me.
"Hello, Cliff," he says quietly.
"Platinum," I give him a nod. He and I aren't exactly friends, but we've come a long way since I won the Games. In the Arena, I realized how wrong I've always been. How many lives I'd ruined. I realized that.
Then I had to watch the Capitol sweetheart, Nate McIalwain, get torn to shreds by mutts because I guess he started mouthing off about the Capitol. That scene, right there, that's the one I most often see in my nightmares. The second place scene is when I was captured by Boeh, the girl from Three, and tortured. Fire destroyed my back. She made a triangle of cuts on my chest, and those scars were so deep they never went away.
When I have that nightmare, I wake up with a start and find my hand on my chest, where the triangular scars are located.
On these long nights, I've always wanted to do something about it, not just lie awake. Multiple times, I've slipped out of bed and walked to the bedroom upstairs. But, when I would be just about to knock on the door, I'd notice that unlike me, Crawley sleeps peacefully. He already hates me, so I've always decided to let him sleep. I can deal with the memories of Boeh Richmond on my own just fine.
I feel like I should just apologize to him already. The two of us just avoid each other nowadays, and nothing more. But I still don't know what I'd say.
Anyways, back to the present. Platinum has a smile on, which is rare around me.
Ever since Dill died, I've been even worse a monster than I was. I always knew that Dill stopped me from doing awful things to everyone around me. And my only source of protection from myself, and everyone around me, was gone. I want him back, but until that day, I have to deal with Krietzer holding me back from Capitol people.
Everyone wishes it had been Nate. Even I wish it had been Nate.
But the person who really wishes it had been Nate is now standing right in front of me. I'll always have to live with the fact that Krietzer is my only real friend, and that I'll still never be as good to him as McIalwain was. Just another shadow I have to dwell in.
Platinum sticks out a hand to me. "Cliff, would you care to dance?"
I stare at him, looking for teasing in his face. I can't find any. "Uh, what?"
"Dancing. It's a waltz."
"Whatever the hell that means," I mutter under my breath, but before I have a chance to pass on it, I'm being dragged on the dance floor anyways. This isn't how it should be; I'm older than him for God's sake.
"Oh, lighten up a little. I'm your mentor, after all."
"I'll never be your Cupcake," I point out under my breath.
He heaves a sigh and guides me along. "Archer, I don't hate you because you're not Nate. Honest." I keep up with his movements and soon it gets easy.
"Everyone hates me. It's pretty obvious."
"Now's the time to change that," he reminds me. "Remember, I was just as bad as you before my Games, and I took the opportunity to change."
"I'm not strong or determined enough to change," I sigh.
"You seem to be."
"Looks can be deceiving."
He sighs. "I'm trying to help you."
"Well you're not doing a very good job, are you?"
"You're being too stubborn."
"I'm always stubborn. Deal with it. You're all I have, and I'm all you have. We both have no choice."
"You're definitely not the worst I could've ended up with."
"But I'm the second worse. Next to Boeh."
"Archer, you're not an awful person."
"I'm not a good one, either."
"But you still can be."
"Doubt it."
He blows the bangs out of his eyes and doesn't say anything after that. There's no way I can swallow my pride enough to admit my mistakes, so I'll just have to live with the consequences until I can apologize.
"Cliff Archer. What a pleasure it is to see you again. I don't believe we've talked in person since I crowned you the Victor of your Games."
"Why the hell am I here!? What the hell do you want from me!?"
"Calm yourself, boy. And take a seat. Please."
By that, he means that I have no choice but to sit down. So I do as he says, but not with a smile on my face.
"Since you don't seem in the mood for small-talk, which I completely understand, I'll cut right to the chase for you."
"What?"
"The Capitol needs to get the money in people's pockets to come back to the government."
"How the hell do you expect me to help with that?" I spit back out.
"The Capitol people are interested in you, Cliff."
"Yeah?"
"You are the second Victor."
"Fine. But what the fuck does that have to do with anything?"
"The best way, the only way we can get that money back is by selling them something that they want."
"I don't like where you're going but keep talking and get it over with."
"We're simply going to sell out nights with none other than you to the citizens of the Capitol."
I let out a loud groan. "What if I don't want to sleep with people!?"
"If I were you, I'd think of that before deciding. After all, you won't feel it, but everyone else in your District will. Ha, everyone there will starve but you and your family! And you're already on not-so-good terms with your siblings, what will they think when everyone around them's dying except for all of you!? Ha, five is a lot! Who knows, you may end up starving again after all!"
"You shut the fuck up! My life isn't in your hands anymore, I'm not in the Arena! You know what?! I think you're just bluffing! You're not economically depressed, you're just looking for a way to make me into nothing more than a marionette that you control, and you're looking for a way to make me miserable!"
"After all the Capitol's done for you, Cliff?" he looks agitated.
"Done for me!? You forced me into a fight to the death and then made my whole life miserable! I have nightmares every night because of you and I can't do anything about any of it!"
"That's your own wickedness!" he shouts. "And your own weakness!"
"You think I'm weak!? I'm not the one that's so scared of a boy from District 12 of all places that I would subject him to misery so he wouldn't speak out against the Capitol!"
He turns red in the face. "Leave. Now. And don't expect you to have four siblings by the time you get home!"
I turn around. "Wh-what!?"
"You heard me!" he says, keeping a straight face. "And you will be here for the auction, Saturday at six-thirty sharp, if you know what's good for you and all your siblings!"
I grit my teeth, walking out the door. But as soon as I'm out of the mansion, I take off in a run, catching the first train I can and waiting anxiously to get home.
The whole way, I pick at the cuts I made on my forearm the other night until all of them are bleeding again, and tap my feet nervously. I have to get there before he can do anything to any of them… But I have a feeling I'm never going to beat him there.
CRAWLEY'S POV
Cliff is often out of the Victor's house. I can see why he decided to let us all live with him after all. I wish Mom and Dad hadn't been so upset that Cliff took lives to win. I wish they'd have moved in with us, but they didn't want to. So, we're on our own.
Cliff hasn't hurt me since he got back from the Games. In fact, he hasn't talked to me since he got home, except for the simplest things, such as "Pass me the salt?" or mumbling "Thanks" when I would give him something, or muttering "That's fine," when we find a mutual channel on the TV.
Cliff's definitely changed since he was in the Arena. But every time any of us asks him something, he just turns away and grunts, which means that he wants us to leave him.
Rebecca took Natalie out to go shopping for some simple things, so I'm in the house with Miranda alone. I watch some stupid Capitol TV program, curling up on the couch and yawning tiredly. My two bloody rags are wrapped around my arms, collecting the blood from the slits I've reopened. I don't expect her to see me out here, anyways. Besides, I always get awful tired after I've cut, even if it's just a little. I'm just about to doze off when I hear a loud shriek come from the kitchen. I jolt awake and call, "You okay, Rand?"
No response, only silence. I get up and walk to the kitchen and when I see the sight I jump backwards, letting out a shriek myself. I run over to where her body lies, motionless, and all I can do is stare with an open mouth. I'm… I'm not ready to deal with this yet!
"Miranda!" I shout, shaking her by the shoulders. "MIRANDA!" Her body flops awkwardly, and she doesn't even blink. She's not breathing. Suddenly a puddle of blood spills out from her throat.
Time to grow up, Crawley. Cliff isn't here to deal with this.
My eyes go wide. Cliff. What the hell is he going to say when he sees this!? What is he going to do?! Probably hurt me, because I'll be the one that'll have to tell him what happened.
I start to let out choked sobs, picking up her little body and holding it in my arms for a while. I hold onto the hope that she'll wake up soon, if I hold her long enough. Soon, I realize that it's never going to happen. I put her body on the ground, not sure what else to do. I've become hysterical by now, in sobs and covered in blood. I take a towel and clean everything up, trying to get my mind off of what I saw. It's hard when I have to clean blood off the furniture, though. I take the dishes to the sink and Rebecca comes home with Natalie just then.
"Crawley!?" she says, happily. "Miranda?"
The word brings out a new waves of sobs that sound very choked when they come out, considering I'm trying to hold them back.
"Crawley?" she comes into the kitchen, and notices me.
"Crawley!" Natalie squeals happily.
"Send her to her room," I tell Rebecca sternly. She pales, eyes tearing up, but goes to do that before the little girl can see me so covered in blood: both my own and hers. Soon, Rebecca comes back down and says, with a quivering lower lip, "What happened?"
"Something. Something she ate must've been poisonous, or something…" I stutter out through tears.
"This isn't right! He's a Victor, we're all supposed to be safe!" she squeals, crying. It takes me back to the day that Dill died. She buries her face in her hands.
"I know, I know. I'm going to go shower, Bec, and I want you to go and try to explain to Natalie what's going on, alright?" I know that Natalie will give her lots of hugs while I wash the blood off me. Rebecca swallows hard, still in disbelief, and nods, running off. I follow her, and go straight to the shower.
The moment I turn on the water, the sobs begin again. They rack my whole body with jittering worse than I've ever cried before. She was so small, little, so innocent, she did nothing wrong! Had I just been there, maybe I could've stopped it from happening, maybe I could've done something…
I scrub off all the dried blood and watch it all run down the drain. I sob into my hands, thinking about what the hell I'm going to say to Cliff. Miranda was his favorite, she was the one he raised to be like him. I'm sure that I'm going to get beat up and kicked out. And yet, I give into the knife. After all, nobody will know I did it, anyways. They never know. They never have to. I will forever have little scratches from traveling through the thickets as far as any of them knows.
It's an addiction, and it's the worst of all addictions. But I can't quit, and I'm never going to ask for help because I never want to quit.
After a bleeding cut or two, I wash off the blade and put it away, then get out and dry off. I get redressed in a T-shirt and shorts and then check the time.
4:30. Cliff will probably take his time getting home, like always, so it's the longest wait. I sit in the rocking chair in the living room, holding Rebecca in my life. She buries her face in my shirt and sobs her poor little eyes out. I cry silent tears, and Natalie sits on the couch by herself, watching the TV.
"How about I make some dinner?" I ask, though I feel sick to my stomach. Natalie doesn't say anything but nods quickly. Rebecca nods, climbing off my lap and sitting next to Natalie. I walk to the kitchen but suddenly, the door bursts open. I shriek and squeeze tears out of my eyes. It's Cliff.
What if he already heard!? Oh God…
He comes running in and I slink in the corner, away from him. Rebecca and Natalie run into the kitchen, Rebecca screaming: "Cliff! Oh, Cliff! It's terrible!"
"No." His eyes go wide, "NO!" My tears spark up again and I cover my mouth with my hands to keep the sobs quiet.
Natalie sniffles, sitting on the kitchen table, as Cliff runs over to the body. He picks her up and looks just about as hysterical as I felt at the time. "No…This can't be happening to me… Please, Miranda! Please!"
I try to quiet my sobs so he won't notice me. But I'll say that, in all my years of life, this is the first time I've ever seen Cliff break down. He doesn't sob, like the rest of us do. Instead, silent tears flow out of his eyes and his voice cracks when he speaks. "I did this to her…"
He looks at Natalie on the table, Rebecca, watching quietly, and then his eyes go back to the corner in which I'm cowering. His eyes suddenly go to my arms. There's a short silence.
He grits his teeth and screams. "CRAWLEY!"
I finally spew out what I'm thinking. "Cliff, please, I'm sorry-"
He runs over and suddenly throws his arms around me in a tight hug. He's so large: tall and strong-built: that he lifts me slightly off the ground and buries his face in my shoulder. I can hear him muttering "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry…" over and over again under his breath, starting to sob.
I don't know how to react at first, then I hug him back tightly (it's nice to feel like I can hug as tight as I can without suffocating the other person) and try to hold back my tears.
Then he frowns down at my arms. "Never again," he says, "Never again. Never ever ever again, do you understand? Not in a million years."
I don't know how to respond to that, either. "I'll… I'll try-"
"Never."
I make myself look down at his and whisper, "You need to stop, too."
"Okay," he mumbles quietly, but he doesn't let go of me a long time after that.
When he does let me go, he picks up Rebecca and hugs her a long time after that, and Natalie, as well. "I'm sorry," he says quietly. "This is all my fault. I mouthed off to the President, because he wanted to sell me in-" he stops after that, and I'm the only one that gets the message. I don't say anything after that, though.
"I, uh, I have to go out again, this week. I'll be gone for the night. Saturday, and I have to be there at six-thirty sharp."
One night, much later, I'm awaked by a gentle pounding at the door. My eyes open and I look at the figure in the doorway. I hear a raspy but quiet voice. "Crawley?"
"Yeah?" I sit up, confused.
"Uh…" he sounds awkward. "Can I talk to you?"
"Uh, yeah." I glance at the clock. "But at two in the morning?"
He sits by my bed and mutters, "Sorry. Just, uh, had a nightmare."
Any kind of grumpiness I had is gone. "Oh God… I'm sorry."
"I'm used to them. It's just…"
"I can understand. Really. We've all been through a lot, but you've seen it all. I'm really sorry, Cliff."
"None of it's your fault. It's all on the stupid president."
"I know. You…You didn't deserve it."
"Don't say that. I know I did. The Games showed me how wrong I was… And the whole, uh, Miranda thing…" he bites his lip, "It finally gave me the courage to apologize. I, uh, I called Platinum, too. But he's happy." Cliff throws up his arms and heaves a sigh, "He's made a living, he has kids, and he frankly didn't want to talk to me. He named his second son after McIalwain, so that just shows how much he didn't care about me."
"Oh…"
"Yeah. You know, he's never had to go to the Captiol. Ever. Because when he was really famous, they had nobody to control him with, and by the time he had something for them to use, it was too late. I don't want to hurt you… That's my worst nightmare." He buries his face in his hands.
I rub his back, "Is that what you dreamt of?"
"No. It was, uh, the scene from my Games. With the 3 girl." He traces a triangle on his chest. "That nightmare hasn't come back for years and years. They've mostly been about Miranda, or about me doing something dumb and getting you or Becky or Miranda killed. But not this. I just needed someone to talk to so I could get my mind off of scars."
"You know, those scars prove that you braved her out. They prove that you were able to overcome her. Just like all these scars on my arms are just proof that I was finally able to win the war against myself. All I needed was a little bit of help."
"Nah. It was always in you. You've always been strong, Crawley."
"Fine. I just needed… Encouragement."
He nods, "Better. I need tragedies to make me realize my wrongs. I wish it wasn't like that, Crawley."
"You're changed now, though. That's what counts."
"Thanks."
"Besides, just think, you're Cliff Archer. You've braved so much worse than her. You came out victorious, didn't you?"
He nods in the dark. "Yeah. But what happens if I end up dreaming about the Capitol woman who forced me to break that pact we made with Dill? Or… Or Miranda? Or you shutting yourself in the bathroom and doing something stupid to yourself?"
I blink. "Wait, what?!"
He shakes his head and finishes his thought, "Or myself getting one of you killed?"
"Then you come upstairs and knock on my door. I'll stay awake and talk to you."
There's a silence. "Are you serious?"
I nod. "I know how nightmares can be." He sighs sadly and provides a small nod.
"If you ever have a bad dream, I'll be here, too. Don't be afraid. I'm tired of people being afraid of me."
"I'm tired of being afraid of you, too," I confess.
He hugs me and whispers, "Thanks, Crawley. I hope you sleep well."
"Same," I whisper. Then he gives me a small smile and goes back to bed. I yawn and go back to sleep, as well, thinking about the conversation I just had with my brother.