SALVATION
deliverance from sin and its consequences.
-
Oh, when the saints go marching in
I won't be there, 'cause I love my sin
It still burned.
No matter what he did, how hard he tried to move, to scream, to do anything at all.
It burned. Everything burned.
Was this what the darkness would be? Was he in hell, sentenced to burn for all of eternity? He could do nothing, nothing but burn until there was nothing left.
It was silent, and still, until a strange noise interrupted the silent torture. A shrill beeping noise pierced through the strange world he was in, and as if opening a hole in a prison wall he found an escape.
The harder he fought to do anything- anything at all- the louder the beeping got.
(Fighting was all he knew- all he'd ever done. And now he would fight once again.)
Until something in that barrier finally gave way.
His eyes flew open. The sky above him was a blindingly bright white, and flinching away from the light only made the pain worse.
"He's awake," somebody spoke, and his eyes slowly focused on a pair of familiar faces peering down at him.
There was more noise as one of them disappeared, and slowly he moved, whatever was beneath him shifting so he was sitting now. He was in a stark white room, light streaming in from a nearby window. His throat was dry- so dry and everything hurt so badly.
But the burning had stopped.
"Where? What?" he managed to get out, his voice quiet and hoarse. The men looked at each other before the one on the left spoke.
"A Capitol hospital. You are Volans Fedor," the man spoke, pausing before he continued. "And… you are the Victor of the 18th Hunger Games."
Volans Fedor. He was Volans Fedor.
And Volans Fedor was a Victor.
"I'm sure you have plenty of questions," the second man said- Ricochet. His name was Ricochet. "We'll answer what we can, but there are a few things you need to know first."
Volans nodded as best he could manage, and Ricochet continued.
"You came out of the Arena in very bad shape, and uh- well, they couldn't save all of you," Ricochet explained. Hegently lifted the blankets that covered most of Volans' body, and all he saw was white. White sheets and blankets and gown. White bandages wrapped around his left arm and leg- or what remained of them, both reduced to stumps.
What wasn't covered by gown or bandage was twisted, raised ugly red scars disappearing beneath the pristine white.
"Your eye is- also gone," Ricochet explained, covering him with the blanket again. "Although we can't show you that yet."
"Why?"
"The doctors still need to erm- well, go in and do some work on your face. They think it'd be best not to show you until it's completed."
It was too much, too much, it was all ruined.
He was ruined.
Volans could feel tears welling in his eye- although nothing came out. Instead, he sobbed a choked dry noise which caught in his throat painfully. It was ruined, all ruined, how was he supposed to be a Victor like this?
He'd been perfect- his life, his looks, everything.
(He was anything but perfect now.)
The days were largely the same- waking up to doctors and nurses and machines which never ceased beeping. Sometimes Shai or Ricochet were there, and other times they weren't. He didn't particularly want to talk to them anyway- because what was there to talk about?
The Games, which had done this to him? His home, which he'd return to a different person entirely?
The girl he'd loved more than anything, who'd betrayed him in the end?
No, He wouldn't speak, only stew in his own mind.
That was, until the morning he awoke to a vaguely familiar person sitting by his bed. The bed shifted beneath him, pushing him into a sitting position. Volans squinted harder at the man trying to place who he was.
"Well, good mornin'!" the man exclaimed as soon as Volans was sat up entirely. "How's it going, Volans?"
"Who are you?" Volans spat, but the man's cheerful expression didn't falter a bit.
"Glen Oleander, pleased to make your acquaintance," Glen declared, offering Volans a hand. Warily, Volans took his hand with his good one, shaking firmly.
"What are you doing here?" Volans asked inquisitively.
"I'm here to- well, I've heard you aren't having the best of times, so I'm here to… give you a little change of pace from your mentors," Glen explained. "Do you know how many days you've been here?"
Volans shook his head- he wasn't even sure how many mornings he's woken up here, much less how many he'd been out cold through.
"You've been here nearly a month, and awake for four days. I'm sure your days are starting to get boring," Glen continued. "I'm here to provide you with an update about the outside world."
"My family- what about… her?"
"Your girlfriend Flair, you mean?"
Volans nodded, the name familiar to his foggy mind. She was the one who'd left him, the one who'd abandoned him after everything he'd sacrificed for her. The only reason he volunteered was to save Flair's life, and despite him nearly sacrificing his own, she'd still left him.
"Your family is doing well- your younger brother is very excited to have you home soon… as for Flair…"
"Is that bitch dead?" Volans snarled- Glen pulling back, as if surprised. "If she isn't I'll end her myself-"
"I see," Glen interrupted, looking far less cheerful now, leaning in closer. "It didn't work… I'm quite sorry about this."
Volans didn't get another word out before the world around him began to spin so violently that his stomach practically turned inside out-
And then darkness took him once again.
The next time Volans awoke he was somewhere different- the walls painted a soft blue, and the furniture around him much more reminiscent of a bedroom than a hospital.
He recognized this room- this was his from the training center.
"Welcome back!" a cheerful voice declared. Glen sat by the side of his bed once again. "I'm sorry about that… but I did manage to get you moved here instead of that hospital. I thought it might be better for you."
"Oh," Volans spoke softly- his head felt strange- as if a great weight had been lifted from it."My head…"
"Ah, how are you feeling?"
"Strange."
"Strange could mean a lot of things. But I hope it's a good sort of strange."
Volans shrugged. "It feels like- I don't think it's bad."
"That's good," Glen grinned, sliding him a picture in a frame. "Can you tell me who these people are?"
Volans peered down at the picture- it was his family, his parents and brothers and himself. And next to him, a smiling girl with brown hair.
"My family… and Flair?"
Glen nodded eagerly- Flair, how could he not know who she was?
(Her. Flair. They were one and the same. But Flair would never do anything so terrible to him- would never hurt him.)
(If she would never hurt him, then why couldn't he even look at her?)
Volans pushed the picture away sharply- it slid off the edge of the bed glass shattering as it hit the floor.
"Oh dear," Glen remarked, peering down at the broken frame. "Let me get that cleaned up."
"I don't know," Volans murmured as Glen busied himself cleaning. "I don't…"
"You don't need to," Glen responded as he swept the glass up, discarding it somewhere Volans couldn't see. "But what you do need to know is that Flair was not in the Arena with you."
"She wasn't?" Volans asked. "But-"
"You saw her?"
"I did, I know I did."
"It wasn't her, Volans," Glen stated. "Your memory was tampered with."
"Why are you telling me this?" Volans hissed- why were they trying to tell him otherwise, when Volans knew what he'd seen? He couldn't have made it all up, he couldn't have. Everything that had happened in that Arena was real.
"You need to know," Glen shrugged. "And I doubt you believe me, and that's okay."
"I don't."
Glen nodded, pausing for a thoughtful moment. "If it's okay with you, I'd like to show you something from your Games."
"That's fine by me," Volans sighed. Glen offered him a thumbs-up before getting up and moving to the TV across the room. Flipping it on, he slid something into the video player and a familiar scene came onto the TV. It was himself and Desina, amongst the rock trees of the Arena.
"That's me and- Desina," Volans commented.
"Very good! Yes, it is," Glen agreed playing the clip. His own voice crackled through the speakers.
"Where are you going?" other Volans asked.
"I'm not going anywhere."
"You can't leave me."
"I'm not going anywhere, Volans."
"I've given you so much, you can't leave!" other Volans spat. "There'd be nothing good left if you left too!"
"Stop it," Volans hissed. "Turn it off!"
Glen did as he asked, pausing the recording. "I'm guessing you remember that conversation, then?"
"I do," Volans muttered. "I- I was talking to her. Not Desina."
"Of course. But Flair wasn't there," Glen explained. "You only acted like she was."
"So she never- she never left me?"
"No, Volans," Glen responded softly, gently patting his good shoulder. "Desina left you. Not Flair."
All Volans could do was cry. Tears rolled down his face, his entire body shaking like a leaf in the wind as he silently sobbed.
She had never left.
Flair had never betrayed him. Of course she hadn't. She never would. Volans knew better than that.
(At least he thought he'd known better than that.)
"You'll be okay buddy," Glen assured. "It's not easy, but you'll get there."
"Are you sure?" Volans sniffled.
"Certainly," Glen responded. "It's already started. Take a peek under the blankets when you're feeling okay."
Volans let out a deep, shuddering sigh and braced himself- what would he find under the blanket? Perhaps more of his body would be gone this time.
As he pulled the blanket back though, he quickly realized that wasn't the case- a metal leg was now attached where his leg had been missing.
"How's that for progress, eh?" Glen asked, his cheerful demeanour back as if it'd never left at all. "They can't do much about your eye unfortunately but! You're scheduled to have a new arm by tomorrow. They want to get you into shape for the post-games interview as soon as possible so-"
"That's fine," Volans interrupted. "I don't care, I just want to get out of here."
He'd won the Games to get home to Flair, and now there was only one barrier between him and her. But still- what if she didn't love him? What if she couldn't bring herself to love somebody like him, as disfigured as he was?
(What if she couldn't love this Volans, after everything he'd sacrificed for her?)
Volans could hardly comprehend having to face the whole Capitol, and to do it looking as he did?
(What kind of Victor would they think he was?)
The floor-length mirror was plenty tall to see all of himself in. Despite his carefully arranged hair and eyepatch, he could still see the ugly red scars which marred his face, where they dipped beneath the collar of his shirt. The rest of his golden suit was carefully crafted to cover the rest- his disfigured body, the metal limbs which replaced what should've been there.
Despite everything the stylists had done to make it better, covering him in glitz and glamour and the most stunning outfit he'd seen in his life, Volans could still scarcely recognize the person, no, the thing which stood before him.
(The arena hadn't created a Victor. It had created a monster, inside and out so he could never forget.)
A booming knock came from the door- Volans turned to face it as best he could, but it was still awkward to move.
"Can I come in?" Ricochet asked, voice muffled.
"Yeah," Volans responded, and the door swung open, Ricochet stepping in with a long box in his hands.
"Well that's quite the outfit they've got you in," Ricochet commented, setting the box down on the coffee table. "But I've brought a gift for you."
"A gift? From who?"
"It was Glen's idea," Ricochet explained. "He's always got lots of those… but I think you'll like this one."
Volans shuffled to the table, awkwardly perching on the edge of the couch. Gingerly, he picked the box up, removing the lid. Inside was a long, thin cane- made of polished wood. The handle was metallic and golden, and the whole thing was reminiscent of a sword in a way.
"This is… for me?"
"Yup," Ricochet confirmed. "Should make moving around the stage a little easier. And if anything happens up there and you need assistance, you can just hit the little button on the handle and it'll let the interviewer know."
Ricochet brushed his hand over the button, which blended into the metal handle seamlessly.
"I- um…" Volans trailed off, he wasn't even sure where to start. He knew he'd have to face every detail, every little bit of the Games on that stage. But this, he hadn't expected at all.
"Thank you," Volans finally settled on.
"We should get going if you're looking to test that bad boy out," Ricochet said. Volans nodded, awkwardly getting to his feet, gripping the cane in his good hand. Leaning on it made walking much easier, he found- but still, how could he have fallen so far? He was fast, and deadly, and a hundred other things that a Career should be and now-
Now Volans was this.
(And he could never be that Career again.)
Thankfully the walk to the backstage area wasn't so long, even with Volans moving at a snail's pace. It was far more hectic there, people running every which way doing a hundred different jobs. Ricochet led him to a spot where he could sit and watch until it was his time to go up on stage.
"I'm fine," Volans declared as he settled into the spot. "You can go."
"Are you sure?" Ricochet asked, lingering awkwardly.
"Very."
Ricochet nodded, and turned away, disappearing into the chaos, leaving Volans to watch. Many of the workers didn't look like Capitolites, and they likely weren't. He wouldn't be surprised if many of them were from One, since so many from his home District ended up working in TV and film in the Capitol.
Volans watched in silence until a familiar face appeared- seemingly out of nowhere.
"Volans! There you are, I heard you'd be around here somewhere," Glen beamed, waving eagerly. He picked up the hand of the small baby strapped to his chest and waved for her too. "Say hi to our friend, pumpkin!"
The baby didn't say hello, but Volans chalked that up to her being unable to speak.
"What are you doing here?" Volans asked bluntly.
"Ah, we're just swinging by to say hi and check up on you! And make sure you got your present okay," Glen declared. "Ricochet explained how to use it, right?"
Volans nodded, finding the small button on the side. "Hit this if anything goes wrong."
"Very good yes. And we'll be in the crowd, okay? I know this is scary but-"
"I'll get through it fine," Volans snapped- Glen didn't know the anxiety which riddled his very being. He had to go in front of the entire nation like this, in such a terrible state. This wasn't how his victory was supposed to go-
This wasn't how it was supposed to be.
But that picture-perfect victory was unreachable.
(Had it ever been reachable at all?)
"Volans," Glen responded firmly- not harsh, but firm, like a father would. "The Capitol may not seem it, but they're on your side right now, okay? This won't be any more painful than it has to be. Do you understand?"
"I- yes," Volans nodded, staring down at Glen's feet. "I'll be fine."
"Good," Glen nodded, placing a hand on his shoulder giving Volans no choice but to look up at him. "And remember. You can be on a train home tonight if this goes well."
A train home tonight. He could be home in mere days.
(He could only hope that home would recognize this
The stage seemed endless, the bright lights reflecting off its polished surface. It's what Volans chose to focus on- at least until he was forced to go back to staring at the screens that replayed everything. They'd recorded everything.
(Had that been what Shai was warning him about when he'd repeated his own words back to Volans?)
Everything. Since the moment he stepped on the train, it was all being broadcast to the Capitol.
(Volans could only watch, and not change a single thing the other Volans did.)
"So, Volans, you seemed to enjoy the Capitol?" Edme, the interviewer asked.
"Certainly," Volans chuckled- he could at least focus on what was good. "It's so similar to home in a lot of ways."
"I'm sure it is, One is a wonderful District. Now- ah, we should get moving on to the next portion of the show. Three weeks of Games produces plenty of content."
Three weeks. It'd only felt like a week, no more to him, but he'd been there for three weeks.
Volans sat back, watching as the bloodbath played out- this was the clearest part of the Games in his memory. He watched himself walk to the top of the Colosseum with Desina, and watched himself explore with Chorus. Occasionally it'd cut to other tributes, but the focus was on him of course.
"Now, you seemed to have some idea of what that pool was doing, Volans," Edme commented as the recording paused on a wide shot of the swirling lava and water. "Was that true?"
Volans nodded. "I did."
"And you let your own District partner drink from it anyway?"
"Ah- yes," Volans said. "I… wanted to see the full extent of its abilities without risking myself."
"And so you sacrificed an ally?"
"I wouldn't exactly consider Chorus an ally," Volans reasoned. "District pride only takes you so far, and with what she was planning… well can you really blame me for being so wary?"
Edme shook her head, a faint smile crossing her face. "Not at all."
Volans settled into his chair again, as the recording continued- the fight, the Careers breaking up, Chorus and Majenna running. They hadn't gone towards the water as he'd predicted- instead, the girls had fled deeper into the rocky wasteland.
He tightly gripped the handle of his cane as Estel's death played out just as terribly as he remembered, although her screams echoing across the giant auditorium made it worse.
The other Volans looked so indifferent. Like this was only inconveniencing him.
(Was this really how everyone else saw him?)
Edme remained quiet as they watched his travels with Desina- perhaps it was a mercy that his mutterings weren't picked up by the mics. Day after day passed, and Desina grew more and more forlorn, and Volans-
Volans was watching himself turn into a monster.
(Or had he always been one? Had he always been so terrible on the inside, only waiting for that ugliness to show on the outside as well?)
No. This wasn't his fault- this wasn't his fault.
Silently, he pressed the button on his cane, and quickly the scene moved on. He was alone now- wandering. The camera's view flipped to Desina, who was faced with another pack of skeletons just like the ones he and Chorus had seen.
Volans could only watch, as she cast her sword aside.
She'd allowed herself to be taken. Allowed herself to be taken back to her sister.
(Perhaps that was the kinder outcome, considering how victory had treated him so far.)
Silently, he hit the button again.
The scene changed again. Now the screens displayed him wandering, following the river without a destination, ragged and mindless as a zombie. He walked for days and days, circling back without even realizing it until he wound up in the river.
(And then the sky exploded.)
Volans was glad Edme wasn't keen on grilling him- it was taking all of his will not to get up and walk away. He couldn't look away, as he ripped into Majenna like some feral thing, her intestines spilling out.
And then the audio cut out for a moment as the final tribute appeared.
(Chorus.)
(It'd been her all along- he'd already won. They had already won, and yet…)
And yet, Volans watched himself continue to fight- if only he hadn't if only he'd stopped. He wouldn't have ended up like this, would've been normal. Volans didn't care if that meant sharing his victory-
(But he'd fought- his shrill screams filling the air, as he was dumped into the lava.)
Volans' eyes snapped to the ground as it ended.
(He was a monster. And Volans was the last person in Panem to know.)
The train ride was a blur- Shai and Ricochet were there, but they mostly left him to his own devices, which he appreciated.
They knew.
They all knew. All of Panem knew what he was. Not a Victor, but a monster, something terrible. He wouldn't be loved, he could never be loved.
What would Flair think? How could she possibly love him now, after all of that? Perhaps it would all be a self-fulfilling prophecy- perhaps she was meant to leave him.
(Perhaps, Volans Fedor wasn't worthy of her light.)
The train platform was crowded- although most of the reporters were held back behind barricades. Carefully, he stepped off the train, cane tightly gripped in hand.
Instantly, he was hit with a wave of chatter- and something small and fast collided with him, nearly sending him to the ground.
"Volans, oh my god you're home finally and-"
"July?" Volans murmured, gently patting his youngest brother on the head.
"You were gone so long I didn't know if you'd come back and-"
"July, how about we let him get more than a step into the District," Lionel chuckled, catching up with July. July sighed, as he peeled himself off Volans grinning up at him.
"Woah…" July remarked as the three made their way across the platform to where their parents stood. "You actually look like that?"
"Yeah," Volans mumbled. He'd never thought July had liked him that much- really Volans had only thought he was a kid who couldn't take a thing seriously. Maybe July had changed in his absence.
As they walked, Volans looked around- but his family members were the only familiar faces.
"No Flair," Lionel said, leaning over to whisper in Volans ear. "Family only."
"Oh," Volans sighed. "Is she…?"
"Fine. I was contacted by a Victor- Glen. He helped me get her treatment set up in your absence," Lionel explained.
Volans nodded- of course, it'd been Glen. It seemed like he was capable of much more than Volans had initially thought.
The reunion with his parents was short and lacking any real affection- they'd always been like this, lacking in any warmth or care. They'd taught him to be cutthroat, and now they were reaping the benefits of their son devolving into something hardly human for all of the country to see.
The Fedors were ushered into the administrative building, and Volans let out a sigh of relief as the doors were shut behind them.
"We'll be off now dear, Lionel will accompany you to your new home," Mother said, taking July by the arm. Father didn't say anything as they turned and left, leaving just the two brothers.
"Same old with them, eh?" Lionel commented, rubbing his arm- his bad arm. "That's okay though."
"Um," Volans stammered. "Yeah- I…"
"Don't apologize for my arm," Lionel interrupted. "It's no big deal, not with the state you're in now."
"I… I guess not," Volans conceded. They made their way through the administrative building and out the front to the car surrounded by Peacekeepers. Lionel offered Volans a hand as he clambered into the car, but he didn't take it- clearly, his parents were expecting him to rely on Lionel, and that was the last thing Volans wanted to do. He shouldn't have to rely on the brother who was set to replace Volans if he hadn't come back.
(He shouldn't be expected to rely on anybody at all.)
The drive wasn't long, but it felt like an eternity with how heavy the silence was. Lionel fidgeted with his phone, occasionally tapping away on it, but he spent most of the drive looking out the window.
The house which they eventually stopped in front of was huge- grander than their parents'. The brothers exited the car, and Lionel passed him a set of keys.
"All yours," Lionel said with a tired grin. "Do you want me to come-"
"I… sure," Volans responded- he had more questions for his brother at the very least. "Have you been talking with Flair…?"
"Yes," Lionel responded, holding the door for him, which he stepped through into the biggest front foyer he'd seen in his life. "She's already back in One."
"Can I go see her?"
"I've already arranged for her to come over actually," Lionel admitted, scratching the back of his head. "In a few hours- figured I'd give you time to look around first."
Volans nodded eagerly, leaving his shoes by the door. The pair wandered around the house for a little while- it was just as big inside as it was outside, the house done up with plenty of gold and bronze and white, his favourites. Volans wasn't sure how the Capitol managed to have something so suited to him ready for him without even speaking to him.
"I wonder how many people you could fit in here," Lionel remarked as they finished their exploration in the living room, Volans sprawling out across one couch and Lionel on another.
"Several," Volans grunted. "I don't know what I'm gonna do with all this space-"
Just then, the doorbell rang- at least Volans assumed the chime was the doorbell. He scrambled to his feet- although he wasn't particularly fast, and beelined for the front door, Lionel a step ahead of him.
Carefully, Volans opened the front door.
And there Flair stood- stood. He hadn't seen her standing in over six months.
He didn't register anything else, instead flinging his arms around her and pulling her into the tightest hug he could give.
"You're real, right?" Volans whispered into the top of her hair.
"As real as I can be," Flair responded, her voice muffled by his chest. Volans pulled out of the hug after several long moments and grinned at her.
(She smiled back, and Volans' world lit up once again.)
Lionel had busied himself in the kitchen, talking about dinner, and Volans was happy to let him be busy elsewhere. Every few seconds he'd turn, and Flair would still be there, hand wrapped in his and-
(It was real. He'd done it.)
"How are you- how are you feeling?" Volans asked, eagerly waiting for her answer like an impatient child.
"Much better- still not 100% but… getting there for sure," Flair responded, flexing her free hand. "We were in the same hospital in the Capitol for a while, did they tell you that?"
"No, they didn't."
"They wouldn't let me see you. You were… well still out from everything," Flair explained, and Volans practically hung on every word. "It's a good thing I went when I did though- I don't know if I could've…"
She trailed off, staring out the nearby window for a moment. "That's enough about me though, how are you doing?"
"I've certainly been better," Volans responded, flexing his metallic hand. "But much better now that I'm home."
Flair nodded, squeezing his hand once. "I- I didn't watch the end."
"You didn't?"
"No, I couldn't bear to. Lionel did for me and then brought me the news," Flair sniffled. "I couldn't after all those days of stress."
"You saw- you saw everything else?"
"I did."
"I um…" Volans trailed off- he wasn't even sure where to begin with that. He'd known she'd seen it all, of course, but how could he even begin to explain the Games?
(How could he even explain what he'd become for her?)
"Dinner's ready!" Lionel declared loudly. Volans moved to the dining room, Flair a step behind him, and they took their seats, Lionel joining them with food a few moments later.
It was real. It was perfect.
(It'd all been worth it.)
Flair visited almost every day, and so did Lionel. Sometimes he brought July, sometimes he didn't, but those days- well, they were perfect.
But on the days he found himself alone in that giant house, Volans doubted it. He couldn't stand it- alone, just as he'd been in that Arena. Alone gave those terrible memories a way to seep into his mind, to poison what should have been perfect.
Every night he awoke screaming. The darkness seemed to invite those ghosts in, and the only thing that truly pushed them out was the light.
(The light. It was what he wanted- no, needed, more than anything.)
He took to leaving all of the lights on at night, and it helped for a little while, but couldn't truly hold the terror at bay.
(It'd be fine. He'd be fine- he had to be. Now he was home, and everything could be normal again.
But Volans couldn't play that part- no matter how hard he tried, no matter how much he wanted to, he couldn't do it.)
(Why did he have to be a monster?)
Flair still visited as summer turned to fall, but less. From daily visits to a few times a week. It was raining that day- raining that day he asked her to live there with him. The light would keep the nightmares and ghosts and all of it at bay.
"Will you?" Volans asked eagerly, as they sat watching some terrible Capitol movie that Flair loved.
"I- I don't know Volans," Flair responded, her gaze firmly locked on her hands refusing to look anywhere else. "My mother needs me."
"I can help her too."
"I'm sorry. I don't think I can, Vo," Flair apologized, gently running a hand through his hair. "I don't want you to be alone though- maybe you should ask Lionel?"
"Lionel?" Volans scoffed. "He won't do anything for me-"
"Volans," Flair interrupted harshly. "Who do you think looked after me while I was gone? Who set up the treatment?"
Volans sighed- of course, it'd been Lionel. He'd always been close to Flair- perhaps too close.
The minute Volans was gone, Lionel had replaced him. He'd always been one step behind Volans, and of course, he'd taken advantage of his absence. Would he have taken everything, if Volans hadn't come back? The company? Flair? Replaced him in every way until-
(If Volans hadn't come back, would anything truly have remained of him?)
"Why am I not surprised that he made a move the minute I was gone," Volans sneered, sitting up from where he rested against Flair. "I knew this would happen- did you let him?"
"What are you even talking about?" Flair shot back.
"Did you let him?!" Volans repeated louder this time.
"You think I cheated on you with him?"
"What did he do to you- tell me!" Volans cried, shaking her. "I'll- I'll kill him myself."
"I didn't fucking cheat on you, Volans!" Flair shouted. "I didn't do a thing while you were gone, because I couldn't. I was dying, and you left me! What if you hadn't come back? What would've happened then? Lionel is the only reason I'm here right now."
"Take that back!" Volans snarled. He hadn't gone through all of that just for Lionel to get the credit- it wasn't Lionel, it'd never been Lionel. "You wouldn't be here without me!"
"Is that really what you think?"
"I didn't go through all of that- I didn't turn into a fucking monster just for Lionel to get all of the credit!" Volans shrieked, seizing her face in his hands, forcing her to look at him, look at what he'd become for her. "Look at me! This was all for you!"
"And I didn't ask you to go into the Games for me," Flair shot back, scrambling away from him much faster than he could ever catch her. "I didn't want you to go! I wish you hadn't."
Volans froze- she wished he hadn't gone. Wished he hadn't saved her life?
(Had it all been for nothing?)
Volans didn't move an inch as she stormed out of the house, the door slamming behind her, and he was all alone again.
It had been for nothing. How could she be so ungrateful- and how could she go behind his back with Lionel like that?
Volans had no choice but to sink into the darkness once again.
(And he hardly blinked when it greeted him as an old friend.)
Volans didn't leave, didn't even open the curtains- in fact, they were all left closed. He liked it this way, Volans told himself. It was better this way. If this was what the world wanted him to be, then he'd be it.
The phone would ring and ring, and eventually, Volans unhooked it, leaving the receiver dangling. He didn't want to talk, he didn't want to hear anybody out, especially not Lionel.
It had been days before somebody knocked on the door.
"Go away," Volans declared, hardly even caring who it was- perhaps Lionel trying to reason with him, or Flair back to berate him again.
"Lionel told me I should leave you alone for a bit, but I wanted to see you," July's cheerful voice responded through the door. "So I brought myself here! And I brought you something-"
"Did he send you to come fucking interrogate me too?" Volans sneered. "Go away, July."
"Okay," July's tiny voice said, wavering like he was going to cry. "I'll just… leave this here for you."
Volans peered through the viewing hole on the door, watching as July set the package on the step. The boy turned and quickly ran off. Volans cracked the door to pull the gift in, and then returned to the bottle of wine he'd opened- the first of what he hoped would be many. Of course Lionel would do something as stupid as sending their younger brother to try and get to Volans. He was too much of a coward to even show up himself- perhaps afraid of what Volans would do to him.
He didn't even bother opening the gift.
Volans couldn't stand to see himself.
The reflection in the mirror was him- of course it was, of course he looked so horrible. No wonder Flair had left him, after all he'd done for her. He'd loved her just as much when she was sick, and she couldn't even bring herself to do the same for him?
Maybe she'd just been using him, leeching off him until she was better, and then she'd leave.
The mirror shattered easily beneath his metal hand, and he crushed the shards until he couldn't even catch a glimpse of himself in them. Volans didn't need to be reminded of what he was.
(He already knew.)
"Volans?" a voice asked, somebody grabbing him by the shoulders shaking him. "Can you hear me?"
Volans groaned, attempting to swat them away, but they wouldn't stop shaking him. His eyes peeled open to see-
"Lionel," Volans growled. "Get the- get the fuck out of my house."
"How much have you had to drink?"
Volans snorted. Clearly not enough.
"None of your… fucking business," Volans shot back, his vision spinning. "Why don't you just go back to your… fucking whore?"
Lionel shook his head, and grabbed him by the face, hard. "Volans Fedor, you listen to me right this instant."
Volans giggled- listen to Lionel? What did he know?
"You are a terrible, horrible person. You have fucked up, beyond what you can even imagine. You've hurt so many people, and really, I should just leave you here to rot," Lionel scolded, his nails digging into Volans' face. "But, I won't. Because you're my brother, and you deserve to live, bearing the consequences of your actions."
"You don't know- you know nothing about me! I've never done anything to deserve this!" Volans slurred, as Lionel hauled him to his feet, throwing Volans over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Volans fought against his brother, squirming to free himself from Lionel's grip, but his brother was strong.
Soon enough, Volans found himself in bed- his vision back to normal, Lionel arranging the blankets around him.
"Sleep it off," Lionel commanded, and it was the last thing Volans heard before his eyes shut, and he was out.
(That night he didn't have a single nightmare.)
Volans awoke, and all he could hear- all he could feel- was pounding. His ears, his head, everything hurt, and-
"Lionel…?" Volans asked, his brother closing the sketchbook in his hands before turning his attention to Volans.
"Yup. I'm still here," Lionel responded, offering him a glass of water. "How are you feeling?"
"Shit."
Lionel didn't say anything, only offered him what Volans assumed to be a painkiller, which he took with a swig of water. Volans remembered- the night before, the wine and then Lionel and-
And their argument.
"You remember then, huh?" Lionel remarked, as Volans shakily held the glass of water. "Do you remember everything?"
Volans couldn't bring himself to speak, only nodding his head.
"Good."
"I-"
"Volans, you cannot keep going on like this, do you understand me? Something has to change, and if you aren't willing to do it yourself-"
"I ruined everything," Volans said, his voice hardly above a whisper.
"And?"
"It's all my fault."
Lionel nodded, satisfied. "I do have to apologize for going behind your back with Flair but- she needed somebody that wasn't you. I didn't want to but… I did what I needed to. She's my friend too."
"She wasn't…?" Volans trailed off.
"No," Lionel answered. "She loved you more than anything."
"Do you… can I talk to her?"
"You can, but I'll be waiting right outside, so don't even think about trying anything," Lionel agreed. He stood, padding out of the room, and a moment later Flair entered. She looked… worried, and thin as she had when she was sick.
"Hi," Volans greeted, as she took the spot Lionel had just been in.
"Hi."
"I- I'm sorry. I shouldn't have…" Volans sighed- there were a hundred things he shouldn't have done, what was he supposed to start with? "I'm sorry for everything I said. I shouldn't have- and I shouldn't have acted assuming what you wanted."
Flair nodded, biting her lip as she did when she was nervous- he'd seen it a hundred times. Perhaps she was far more on edge with him than he'd ever realized.
"I said some things I shouldn't have too," Flair responded. "But you didn't exactly make my life easy." Volans shook his head- of course he hadn't.
"I don't doubt that," Volans chuckled weakly. There was certainly some irony in their places now- with him being the one fucked up, stuck in bed, and her reasoning with him. He couldn't remember the last time she'd really stood up to him, outside of their argument.
"And I don't know what any of this means for me and you, but I think we should-"
"Take a break?" Volans suggested. "I- um. I think we should take a break. Sorry."
"I can't disagree with that."
"I'll– I'll get better, okay?"
"Okay. And then maybe… maybe we can start over," Flair agreed. "I'll see you later, Volans."
"Goodbye," Volans responded, his voice catching in his throat as she left the room. The door closed behind her with finality.
(She was gone, by nobody's hand but his own.)
Volans sucked in a shuddering breath, and a few moments later, the door opened again- Lionel reentering with a familiar package in his hands.
"How was that?" Lionel asked, taking a seat gingerly.
"Pretty fucking terrible," Volans responded, laughing a little as tears streamed down his face.
"You did get dumped, so I can't argue with you about that," Lionel joked, offering him the gift. "You should open this."
"July…" Volans murmured, as he took the package in his hands. "I didn't mean to…"
"I know. I'll bring him around soon and you can talk to him, how about that?"
"Okay," Volans agreed, and carefully he peeled the wrapping paper away.
Inside was a camera- not anything like the new, overly complicated ones, but a pristine older one.
"Where did he get this?" Volans asked in disbelief, turning the camera over in his hands.
"Little buddy fixed it up himself. He didn't think you'd want one of those new-fashioned ones." Volans laughed, his tears stopping now as he admired the gift. Perhaps July knew him better than Volans had thought- or was tired of having to fix his phone and camera three times a week.
"I think you should call Glen back when you get the chance too," Lionel suggested standing as if to leave. "He- well he's left you messages. I think he'd be a good place to start-"
"Wait-" Volans said, catching him by the arm. "Wait. I think- could you maybe… stay?"
"Stay?"
"Yes," Volans nodded. "You can live here if you want- it's too… big and empty and I hate it."
"I never thought I'd see the day you'd ask me to stick around," Lionel half heartedly joked. "I can. But only if you're sure you want to work hard on yourself-"
"I do," Volans agreed eagerly. "I won't- I don't want to go back to that…"
"Then I will," Lionel agreed- and Volans had never been happier to keep him around.
(Volans could only hope even somebody like him would be able to turn a new page.)
It'd been nine months without Flair.
But Volans had hardly noticed, and even if he had, he didn't want to contact her yet. He still had a long road ahead of him, and it hadn't all been good, but he was still there.
(He was still fighting.)
He'd agreed to share their parent's company with Lionel- they were stronger together rather than apart. Volans hoped it'd be better that way when the day they inherited it came.
His scars had faded- not completely, but they never would. They'd be a permanent reminder of what he'd gone through, following him for the rest of his life, and he couldn't say for certain if the Games had been worth it.
But there was nothing that could change that now. There was no worth it or not anymore, only had. They had happened. Volans had survived. He had been permanently scarred.
Volans Fedor had been changed. Maybe not for the better, maybe not for the worse.
He didn't follow Flair's light anymore- no, he'd found a different light now.
Even if some days it flickered or dimmed. Even if sometimes the light went out entirely, Volans wouldn't waver, because he'd learned what was possible. Even if he wasn't the best- even if he'd made mistakes, and continued to even now.
Volans Fedor had learned to follow his own light. It was his flame to keep.
(And nobody could ever take that away from him.)