Disclaimer: I don't own X-Men or The Hunger Games.

Note: Okay, it looks like email alerts are working again. Probably. At least for now. If you haven't been getting them, and haven't read the last two chapters (I think that's around where they stopped sending) just a heads-up that the Games are over, so if you want to catch up without spoilers, head back a few chapters before scrolling down.

Second, just wanted to let you know that there will be one more chapter after this, so we're not quite done yet. This one is pretty lengthy as it is, but I couldn't find what I thought was a satisfying spot so split it, so here it is. NaNoWriMo is awesome. I've got a couple reapings stockpiled already, but wanted to get this out there first. I've been really good about alternating which story I'm posting next, and I'm not going to mess that up right at the end of this one.

Lastly, I didn't realize until sticking this in the Doc Manager that fanfiction doesn't support strikethrough on text. Which is annoying. So there's one spot in the chapter where someone's writing something and it's –written–like–this–, which is my solution to making it look like it was crossed out.

And here we go.

Fear

Representative Mack Urban, 37
March 28, 16:23 MST

They were afraid.

Mack nodded to himself as he scrolled through the updates on his phone. For now, most of the fear looked a lot like anger. People whose houses and towns and families had been flattened or flooded were downright furious that Rick had made it out of the Games – that he had been allowed to make it out of the Games. Mack held his phone out to Judah, who was still watching through the glass as their pair of survivors slept. "Take a look at this, will you?"

Judah took the phone, scrolled for a moment, and shook his head. "And you're already thinking of a way to spin this so it looks good for us, aren't you."

Mack shrugged. "I don't need to spin it at all. A few of them think they're angry at us, but they're really angry at Rick. We don't need to change that. We just need to channel it in the right direction. Just think about what we could do if people could have some sort of say in who survives the Games."

Judah raised an eyebrow. "How would that even work? We can't control who lives and dies in the Games."

"We can't control it. But we can nudge it. Hell, we're already doing it. We turned Kenji's collar on to keep him from going back and changing events. We turned Vi's collar off when he asked us to. We sent the contestants all sorts of things. What if other people were allowed to send things – things that could help their favorite contestants survive?"

"That's different. We sent them things that would keep the Games moving. We weren't playing favorites."

"Weren't we?"

"But that could change who survives the Games."

Mack shrugged. "So? You said it yourself, right after the Games started: It doesn't matter who survives the Games. And you were right. As long as two of them make it out, that's a success. Good work with that, by the way."

"What?"

"Flying the helicopter. Talking Rick into calming down the storm. Getting them out of there. If Henry had survived the actual Games and then died on the way back here, that would have been hard to spin. So thank you for not making me."

Judah nodded. For a moment, he was silent. Then he glanced back at Mack's phone. "What the hell is a Victor?"

Mack shrugged. "That's what they're calling them. You know that mountain peak they were close to when the Games ended? Apparently it's called Mount Victor. Someone spotted that and thought it was catchier than just calling them survivors. Calling them survivors makes it sound like they happened to be the ones to make it out of a disaster alive. Victors … now that sounds like they won something."

"And did they?"

"What?"

"Win something. What did they win?"

"Their lives. They get to live."

Judah shook his head. "That sounds like surviving to me."

"That's because you're a soldier. Trust me, from my perspective – from most people's perspective – there's a difference. The wording matters. If they've settled on the name, it wouldn't hurt to use it officially – now that we're official, anyways."

"Official?"

"Out in the open. The first Games to be watched in real time. And everything went … maybe not smoothly, I guess, but everything went well enough. Did you notice how the protests calling for a stop to the Games all died out once those tornadoes hit? Everyone thinks they deserve the Games now."

Judah raised an eyebrow, then handed Mack's phone back and turned and headed down the hall. "Where are you going?" Mack called.

"To talk to Vincent."

"Why?"

Judah turned and took a step back towards him. "Because it does matter who survives the Games – and whoever it is, they shouldn't live or die based on whether people watching think they deserve to."

Mack shrugged as Judah disappeared around the corner. He wondered where the other board members would land on the idea. He probably had Lillian on his side, at least, but the others … he wasn't sure. Mack glanced at their survivors – their Victors – sleeping behind the glass window. If people watching had been able to choose who would survive, who would be lying there instead? Who would be there if he had been able to choose?

Mack shook the thought from his head. Judah was wrong. It didn't matter who survived. Rick and Henry were alive, and that was what he had to work with.

And that was good enough for him.

Vincent Reid, 28

"Guess you decided we got enough rest, huh?"

Vincent sat up a little as Judah glanced around the room. I need you to come with me. There was movement from the other coaches, but then Judah shook his head. Not all of you. He turned directly to Vincent. Just you. Now.

Vincent sighed. At least they'd finally been able to get some rest once Alvin had stopped by to tell them that, yes, both of the survivors were actually going to survive. He'd hoped they might have a little more time before any of them actually had to do anything, but the tone of Judah's thoughts was rather insistent. Vincent reached for his cane and carefully slid off the bed, then slowly followed Judah out into the hall.

There was a railing there. Had there always been a railing there? Vincent wasn't sure. They'd all been in a bit of a rush when they'd evacuated to this location, so it was something of a blur. He waited a moment as Judah closed the door, gripping the railing in one hand and the cane in the other. He glanced over at Judah, who pointed in the right direction. There wasn't any moving air in the hallway, so he wasn't going to get any more than that. Slowly, Vincent followed Judah down the hall.

The railing made it easier, and after a while, he wasn't gripping it quite so tightly – only when the dizziness got a little stronger. Finally, they reached a long, glass window, and Vincent looked inside. Rick and Henry were both sleeping soundly – almost peacefully. Vincent let out a sigh he hadn't realized he'd been holding ever since the end of the Games. Alvin had said, of course, that the pair of them were alive and about as well as could be expected in their condition, but actually seeing them was different. "So why just me?" Vincent asked, turning to Judah.

Judah's mouth had already been moving. Had he been talking this whole time? Judah stopped, glanced around the hallway, glanced into the room, pointed to a small fan in the corner, away from the beds, and shrugged meaningfully. Vincent nodded. "As long as you don't think we'll wake them. They need their rest."

Judah nodded, thought for a moment, then held up his left hand in a fist as if gripping something, flicked the air above it with his right, then lowered both and pressed his right hand slowly towards his left, stopping when it rested on top of the fist. Vincent's forehead creased. He'd never been a fan of charades, but he could take an educated guess. "You gave them something that would keep them out of it for a while."

Judah nodded and opened the door. Vincent followed him inside and sank gratefully into one of the chairs in the corner. Judah remained standing in just the right place for Vincent to pick him up. You didn't catch anything I said in the hall.

Vincent almost shook his head, but caught himself before the dizziness hit and said it instead. "No. It's aeromancy, not telepathy. There has to be at least some moving air. But I can pick you up now, as long as you stay there."

Judah nodded. We'll have to keep that in mind. I'm going to suggest to the board that we keep your collar turned off indefinitely. You're no help to us if you can't communicate.

Vincent raised an eyebrow. "How kind." He knew better, of course. Judah wasn't making the offer simply out of kindness. He wanted something in return. Still, after what had happened during training, he was rather surprised. "You're not worried that I'll…"

We know you weren't the leak. Trying to cover for Francine was reckless of you, but that's all it was. I don't think we'll have any more to worry about from her."

Vincent kept his expression as blank as he could. Francine. They thought Francine was the leak, which meant Anita was in the clear. Not that it mattered all that much now that her plan had failed, but still…

"What's going to happen to her?"

Judah shook his head. Nothing you need to be concerned about. Nicholas found her a new job, somewhere she'll be out of the way – and probably a lot happier than she was here.

Vincent relaxed a little. That sounded like a win all around. "And what is it that you want my help with?"

At the moment? Rick. He's resting now, but eventually, he's going to wake up. And when he does, he's going to find out what happened in the Games – and what happened outside the Games. And he's going to find out that some people aren't happy that he survived.

"Because of the tornadoes."

Bingo.

Vincent glared. "Then they're blaming the wrong people. Whatever happened outside the Games with those tornadoes, happened because he and Vi were in a fight to the death to begin with. You're the ones who dumped thirty mutants in there and told them to kill each other, so you're responsible for the consequences."

I know. The thought was fainter than the rest, and Vincent's surprise at the acknowledgement must have shown on his face, because Judah took a step to the side, out of range, sorting through his thoughts. When he stepped back into range, his thoughts came through clearly again. I know that, and you know that, but the people out there are going to see what Mack wants them to see. And right now, he wants to use this to let people interfere with the Games, let them pick and choose which contestants get help. He wants to turn this into some sort of popularity contest, some sort of reality show. He took a step closer. But if you help me, we can get ahead of him and turn their fear into something different.

Vincent waited for a moment, letting that sink in. Of course Mack would want to spin it like that, and of course Judah wouldn't like it, but what did he want to do instead? Vincent wasn't sure, but whatever it was, could it really be worse? "And you want my help because…?"

Because you're his coach. He'll listen to you. You pointed him towards me during training, and he listened. If I approach him with this, he might think I'm trying to manipulate him for my own purposes.

"Isn't that what you're doing?"

Maybe, but it's not what you're doing. You want what's best for him. And I think you know that what's best for him isn't wallowing around in guilt because his tornadoes killed nine people.

"Twelve."

The last news report said nine.

"That's because the last news report didn't include Florence, Elio, and Iola."

For a moment, nothing. Then Judah nodded. Point taken. But my point stands.

Vincent's gaze strayed to the beds on the other side of the room. Judah was right. Rick probably hadn't even thought about the effects of the tornadoes outside the Games – and wouldn't have really been able to control them even if he had. But that wouldn't change what had happened. He looked back at Judah, who was waiting patiently. Waiting for him to agree. Vincent sighed.

So what's your plan?

Rick Clifton, 19

It was quiet.

Rick took a deep breath, his eyes still closed. The air was dry. Clean. The rain, the hail, the thunder – all of it was gone. The only noise was a low humming nearby, and the sound of breathing. His breathing, but also someone else's. Maybe more than one someone. He couldn't quite concentrate enough to tell.

Because the other thing that was gone was the pain. He'd taken enough painkillers during the Games to tell that whatever they had him on now was stronger. He felt stiff, but nothing more. There were sheets – dry sheets – on top of him. Warm. He was actually warm. Warm and dry and comfortable and safe. He was safe.

He was alive.

And Henry…

Slowly, Rick's eyes blinked open. Henry. Where were they? Rick sat up a little, but even that little effort was draining. "Easy," came a voice off to his left. "Take it easy, soldier. You're safe." Judah was standing nearby, with Vincent in a chair beside him.

"Henry?" Rick's voice was hoarse. He leaned back against the pillow, breathing hard.

Judah nodded to the other side of Rick's bed. "Right beside you. They're safe, too. A little worse for the wear, just like you, but they'll live."

Rick followed his gaze. Henry lay on the next bed over, still asleep. There were bandages over their chest, and a bandage on their left arm, a few inches below the shoulder. And below the bandage–

Their arm was gone. Rick had never really gotten a good look at just how badly their arm had been hurt, he realized. At first because it had been hidden beneath the golem, and then because it had been too dark, too chaotic, right at the end of the Games. Now that the golem was gone, Henry looked a lot smaller, and Rick realized he'd never asked just how old they were. Younger than him, certainly. But he hadn't realized they were that young.

Rick closed his eyes for a moment, trying to collect his thoughts. Then he glanced down at his own injuries. There were bandages over his right shoulder, stretching up the side of his neck and down his arm. His side was bandaged where the girl's bullet had struck him, and where she'd stabbed him. A couple other knife wounds. An IV line ran from his left arm to a bag of fluids beside him. Tentatively, he reached for a cup of water that lay beside the bed. Moving didn't hurt; he just felt a bit … sluggish. Yes, that was the word.

Rick took a long drink. "How long has it been?"

"A little over twenty-four hours since the end of the Games," Judah answered. "We wanted to let you get some rest. You've earned it."

Rick glanced over at Vincent, who was oddly silent. Maybe he was just waiting to see how Rick was doing. But Judah … why was Judah here? "What's going on, Vincent?" he asked.

There was a bit of a pause before Vincent answered. "There's something you need to know, Rick. Something about what happened during the Games."

"Is that why Judah's here?"

It was Judah who answered. "Yes, but if you'd prefer to talk to Vincent alone for the moment–"

"I would, actually." Probably a silly thing to ask for, he realized. After all, the MAAB could probably listen in on them even if they were alone in the room. But Judah was…

One of the MAAB. One of the people responsible for him being here in the first place. But also one of the people who had helped prepare him for the Games. Helped train him. Given him advice – good advice, as it had turned out. And the person who had come to get them at the end. But that … none of that would have happened if they hadn't been here in the first place, and he'd had a hand in that.

Judah glanced down at Vincent, whose gaze drifted to a fan on the other side of the room. Wordlessly, Judah made his way over to the fan, picked it up, and repositioned it between Rick and Henry so that it was blowing gently across Rick and towards Vincent. Then he nodded to Vincent and left.

Rick glanced at the fan, then back at Vincent. His mind was still a bit fuzzy, but he felt like he was missing something. Vincent's power had to do with reading thoughts on the wind, but why would Judah want him to be able to do that rather than just talking?

Vincent leaned back in his chair. "Long story. And not what we need to talk about right now."

"But–"

"But if it's going to nag at you, may as well get it out of the way so it's easier to pick up your other thoughts. Henry didn't tell you how they lost their hearing, did they."

Rick shook his head. "Didn't come up." He'd been curious, of course, but there hadn't really been a good way to ask.

"Do you remember the girl who sang during the talent show?"

Rick nodded. That seemed like ages ago, but the singing had been quite memorable.

"That was only part of her power. The other part was screaming loudly enough to make someone go deaf – and to cause enough damage to the inner ear to affect their balance."

Rick blinked. Henry had seemed quite dizzy at times, but he'd assumed that was just because of how badly they'd been shaken up by the tornado. But why was Vincent telling him this, unless–

"There you go." Vincent's response was slightly ahead of his question – or at least ahead of him asking the question out loud.

But he said it out loud anyway. "Something happened to you during training?"

"Yes."

"But why would she want to hurt you?"

"She didn't want to. We thought … One of the girls she was working with – Kiara, the girl you were fighting at the end, the one who brought back your burns – we thought she would be able to heal me, and we wanted to test whether Fae's power was strong enough to actually cause deafness. We were right about Fae, but wrong about Kiara. She couldn't heal me. That's what the fan is for – so I can pick up your thoughts even though I can't hear you."

Rick nodded as he put it together. "And that's why Judah was here. He was … what? Telling you what I was saying?"

"Yes."

Rick blinked. "He was doing that on the last day of training, wasn't he – when Vi and I were fighting him?"

"Yes."

"And we didn't even think–"

"You had other things to worry about. I wish I could say the same wasn't true now."

Rick frowned. "But we're … we're alive. We made it. We're safe."

"Yes."

"So what's going on? What aren't you telling me?"

Vincent hesitated, but only for a moment. "The storm you helped create during the Games – the one that caused those tornadoes – it kept moving south even after you went and hid in the tunnels. There were tornadoes in the Games … but there were also tornadoes outside the Games."

Rick stared. Shit.

"Yeah."

"I didn't mean to–"

"I know."

"How bad is it? Was anybody hurt?"

"One of the tornadoes went through Grand Junction, Colorado. There was a lot of damage, and … nine people there were killed. Others were injured."

Rick leaned back against his pillow. Vincent reached out and took his hand. "Rick. Listen to me. There's no way you could have known. There's nothing you could have done to control it. You were doing everything you could to survive, and that's not your fault. Those deaths happened because of what the MAAB did. Because of what they forced you to do. You would never have been in that position if it weren't for them. This isn't on you."

"Then why are you telling me?"

"Because you were going to find out eventually, and we thought it would be better if you heard it from me. And because … because Judah has a suggestion."

"A suggestion," Rick repeated. "He's one of the people who stuck me in a fight to the death. He's part of the reason twenty-eight people are dead – plus those people who died in the tornadoes. And he has a suggestion?"

"Yes."

"And you think I should listen to him."

"Yes."

"Why?"

For a moment, Vincent was silent. But when he spoke, his voice was tense. "So that other members of the board don't take advantage of what happened to make sure that no one like you survives the Games again."

Rick blinked. He wasn't sure what answer he'd been expecting, but that wasn't it. Vincent plowed on. "They've been broadcasting the Games live this year. Everyone has been watching. And right now, people are angry. They're afraid. They're afraid of you – and mutants with powers like yours. Powers that are capable of causing massive amounts of destruction. Judah wants…" He stopped, then started again. "We think it might help if you remind people that powers like yours can also save lives."

Rick listened silently as Vincent explained his plan. Judah's plan. Rick leaned back, trying to think. His power could save lives. That was what Vincent had said. But right now, he didn't want to save lives. He just wanted to rest…

"I understand," Vincent said quietly. "I don't need an answer right now. I just need … Judah just needs to know that we've at least run the idea by you, so that he can present it to the board. You don't need to decide right now. Just get some rest and … and think about it. Okay?"

Rick nodded. But Vincent could probably already hear what he was thinking. He wanted to say no. He didn't want to agree to anything the MAAB suggested. He didn't want to be part of any more of their games. But…

But the problem was, it was a good plan.

Vincent chuckled a little. "Yeah, that's the kicker, huh? There's a reason their plans have worked so well. They make sense. Some of them are horrifying, but they make sense. There's a logic to it." He took a cane from where it had been leaning against his chair and slowly, carefully made his way over to the door. Then he turned back for a moment. "I'll tell Judah you're still thinking about it."

"Thanks." And that was true, at least. He was still thinking about it.

But part of him already knew what the answer would be.

Colonel Judah Burgess, 52

"You knew what their answer was going to be, didn't you."

Judah shrugged. It hadn't taken long for the board to side with him, but that hadn't taken any special inside information. "I had a hunch. Mack's idea was still broad and abstract. Mine was concrete. And people like concrete. They like something they can get their heads around."

For a moment, Vincent said nothing. Maybe he was hoping some other information would be forthcoming, but he'd simply had the better argument. Alvin had sided with him immediately, which had surprised him a little – although maybe it shouldn't have. Nicholas and Hans hadn't been hard to persuade. Even Lillian had listened closely to his idea before siding with Mack. With Francine gone, the vote had been four to two, and that was that. He had won.

Now they could get to work.

Maybe that was the thought Vincent had been waiting for, because he raised an eyebrow and asked, "So what happens next?"

Judah shook his head. "Nothing needs to happen immediately. Now that we've got the go-ahead, we can take our time, make sure we do this right."

Vincent raised an eyebrow. "Everyone seemed to be in quite a hurry last year."

Judah nodded. "And look where that got us. Rick and Henry aren't going anywhere, and they both need time to recover. For that matter, I'm sure the rest of you could use a breather, as well. Once everyone's ready, we can iron out some of the details. I would like to get Penelope's input."

"I thought you might."

"You don't think that's a good idea?"

"I didn't say that."

"But…?"

"If I said it wasn't a good idea, would that stop you?"

Judah raised an eyebrow. "No. But if she declines, I won't force her. This isn't like the Games, Vincent. The Games work whether people want to participate or not. This … this is only going to work if the people involved want it to work. So I only want her involved if she wants to be involved. If she doesn't, I'll back off. Same goes for Henry. And if Rick changes his mind and it turns out none of them go for it, we'll wait. There's always next year."

That thought earned him only a grimace from Vincent. Judah backed out of range of the fan for a moment. Next year. That was a conversation for later.

Vincent must have caught at least a little of the thought, though, because he leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes for a moment. "Can we table that discussion for the moment?" he asked at last.

Judah stepped back into range. "Of course. There's no rush. But … you are good at this."

Vincent smiled bitterly. "Thanks."

"I mean that."

"I know. That's the problem." Vincent opened his eyes and sighed. "Later?"

Judah nodded. "Later."

They would have plenty of time later.

Henry Helstrom, 14

They could take their time.

Henry took as deep a breath as they dared, trying to focus. The air was warm. Dry. There was a tightness around their ribs as they drew another deep breath, but the pain was gone. The pain in their arm was gone, too. Everything was still a bit fuzzy, but they could feel a blanket on top of them. Sheets underneath them. They were back. They were safe. They'd survived.

Henry moved their right hand a little, and it brushed against the edge of the bed. They were alive. They'd survived. They hadn't really expected that. Certainly not after the tornado, and after Fae had crippled them, but even before that … even then, they wouldn't have said they expected to survive. They'd hoped they would. They'd wanted to survive. They'd fought for it. But they hadn't really expected to make it out of the Games alive.

But they had. They were here. And now they could feel something – someone – taking their hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Slowly, Henry opened their eyes. Even that was an effort, but it was worth it, because now they could see Rick sitting in the chair beside them. So he was already awake – and doing quite well, from the look of it. Rick's right shoulder was bandaged, as was his right arm and the right side of his neck, but he was sitting up and looked … rested. Henry gave his hand a squeeze. "How long was I out?"

Rick let go of Henry's hand, and Henry was expecting some sort of hand signals, but instead, Rick reached for something on the table beside the bed: a small white board and a marker. He scribbled for a moment, then turned it to face Henry. 3 days.

Henry nodded, then winced as the dizziness hit them. Okay, so that was still a thing. "All good," Henry muttered in response to Rick's worried expression. "Just a bit dizzy." They looked down. There were a few buttons on the side of the bed. Cautiously, they pressed one, and the head of the bed tilted a little, raising their head enough that they could get a better look around. Slowly, they used their right arm to boost themself up a little more, wondering if putting that much pressure on their left arm would be a good idea so soon after–

Oh. Their gaze strayed to their left arm. Or rather, to where their left arm would have been, if it was still there. "Guess it must've been pretty messed up, huh?"

Rick nodded, wiped the board off, then wrote Sorry.

Henry reached for Rick's hand and gave it a squeeze. "Hey. You've got nothing to apologize for. Neither of us do. Got that?" Rick nodded, but he didn't look convinced, so Henry continued. "We did what we had to in order to survive. That's it. That's all we did. And if either of us had done anything differently – anything at all – the two of us might not be the ones sitting here." They gripped Rick's hand tightly for a moment, catching their breath. "And I'm glad it's the two of us. Anyone who got hurt in the Games – anyone who died in the Games – that happened because the MAAB put them there to begin with."

Henry swallowed hard, hoping they sounded more confident than they'd felt. Fae was dead. Iola was dead. Kiara was dead. Kiara was dead because they'd killed her. Crushed her to death. But only because they'd had to. Only because the MAAB had said that only two people could survive. And because she'd been trying to kill Rick. But she'd only been trying to kill Rick because she had to, because she'd wanted to survive. That was all any of them had wanted. None of them had wanted to hurt each other. None of them had wanted to kill.

But the MAAB had wanted them to. The MAAB had wanted them to kill. They'd wanted twenty-eight of them to die. And they'd gotten what they'd wanted.

Maybe they always would.

Rick had slid his hand out of Henry's grasp and was writing again. After a moment, he erased whatever he'd written, then tried again, then hesitated. Henry waited a moment. Then another. "What is it?" they asked at last.

Finally, Rick turned the board to face them. Not just people in the Games. Tornado killed nine people in Colorado.

Henry stared. "Wow" slipped out before they could stop themself, and Rick looked away. Obviously, the tornadoes were dangerous – they'd found that out the hard way – but Colorado? They'd made it that far? How far were they from Colorado? They were in Wyoming, but they'd never been exactly sure where in Wyoming they were. "Anyone you knew?" they asked. "Do you have family in Colorado?" That would be quite a coincidence, but they had no idea where Rick was actually from. It had never come up, and would probably have been pretty hard to act out with charades even if it had.

Rick shook his head, then wiped the board clean again. Dad's in Kansas. That's it. You?

Henry shook their head, immediately regretting the sudden motion. "Rhode Island. Don't really have any family left there, though – just the foster family I was staying with." They shrugged, a movement that felt a bit weird without the weight of their other arm. "Probably would've gotten moved again soon in any case. And I would've only had a few more years in the system anyway."

Rick cocked his head, then wrote something on the board. How old are you?

"Fourteen. How about you?"

Rick looked surprised by the answer, but quickly recovered and wrote 19. He hesitated a moment, then wrote, Thought you were a bit older, that's all.

Henry fought back the impulse to nod. Sudden head movements seemed to make the dizziness worse. They settled for a shrug instead. They had been one of the younger contestants, they knew, but they hadn't really thought much about it while they'd been training with Fae and Kiara because they'd both been around the same age. Iola had been older, but she'd never really seemed to have an advantage during training because of it. And once the Games had started…

"I'm old for my age," Henry offered. That got a half-smile from Rick, so they kept going. "Got any siblings?"

From the look on Rick's face, he'd understood the message behind the question: Let's just talk about anything but the Games for a little while. Just a normal conversation, about normal things. They knew practically nothing about each other aside from their names, so it should be quite a while before they ran out of subject matter. They couldn't avoid talking about the Games forever, of course, but they could put it off for a little while.

And that was good enough for now.

Penelope – 098, 13

They were good for each other.

Penelope watched through the window as Rick and Henry chatted. Small talk – that was something she'd never been much good at, and the Games had done nothing to improve that. Henry and Rick, however, still hadn't run out of things to talk about. It felt a bit strange listening in, but none of what they'd said so far had really been private. It was just … trivia. Rick had spent the past year working at a bowling alley. Henry liked the color green. They'd both hated moving from a big city to a smaller town. Rick had totaled his first car when he'd hit a deer. Henry had always wanted to own a cat when they grew up. And a house and a car and a room they didn't have to share with anyone else. But mostly a cat.

"Not exactly the approach I would have taken, either," Vincent admitted, leaning forward in his chair to watch them closer. "But Rick asked if he could be there alone when Henry woke up. He thought it would be less stressful for them."

Penelope shifted a little to the right, repositioning the fan Alvin had brought for them. The four coaches had been taking turns watching the survivors, and Vincent had just come to relieve her when Henry had woken up. She'd stayed anyway because … well, because it was fascinating. Rick had certainly been right; this was less stressful for Henry. But it also made no sense. How could they just ignore everything that had just happened?

Vincent chuckled. "They're not ignoring it – not really. But if you'd had a chance to talk to Piper before they dumped her in the middle of nowhere, wouldn't you have wanted to? Wouldn't you want to find out a bit more about the only other person who had just survived the same horrible situation you were in?"

Penelope cocked her head. Would she? She and Piper hadn't been friends. They hadn't even been allies. They'd been trying to kill each other, right at the end. The last person Penelope had killed had been a boy Piper had been working with since the start of the Games. Maybe if the two of them had survived, they could have had a nice little chat, but Penelope … no. Piper probably wouldn't have wanted to talk to her at all.

"Maybe you're right," Vincent agreed. "Or maybe you aren't giving people enough credit. Henry doesn't seem too bothered that Rick's tornado was the reason they lost their arm."

Penelope shook her head. That's different. He didn't mean to do that. And Henry's right. If either of them had done anything differently, they might not be the ones who survived. If Henry hadn't been so badly hurt when they'd found each other, they might have simply killed Rick instead of asking for his help.

"Maybe."

Penelope glanced back at Rick and Henry. Do you think… She tried to stop herself, but she was already thinking the thought. Vincent might even have heard the rest. Might as well finish it. Do you think Henry might be interested in joining the team Judah's putting together?

Vincent raised an eyebrow. "I doubt it. If we're lucky, they might be recovered enough to join us as a coach next year, but … damn."

Penelope nodded. He'd put it together. You said 'us.'

Vincent sighed. "That's what you were smirking at towards the end of the Games, when I was wondering if the MAAB was planning for both of the survivors to coach with us, or whether they were planning something else, like they did with Piper."

Penelope nodded. You're good at this.

Vincent cringed. "Judah said the same thing."

He's right. You got two of them out this year.

"And none last year. Two out of four. I think that's what Alvin would call too small a data set."

You had good ideas about what to send to them to move the Games along without giving any of them too much of an advantage. You had some clever ideas during training. You encouraged them to take advantage of lessons with Judah – and quite a few of yours listened, including Rick. I'm not saying that's the only reason he's sitting there, but it certainly didn't hurt. I'm sure the MAAB would want you to keep coaching.

Vincent scoffed. "I'm sure they would."

Penelope raised an eyebrow. Besides, what else are you going to do?

Vincent shrugged. "Who knows. Who knows what any of us will be doing most of the time now that things are moving this fast. Once they start rounding up mutants and sending them to the colonies they're building, they won't need to keep us hidden here anymore. They'll probably just ship us off to one of those – or several different ones, probably. Divide and conquer, you know."

Penelope froze. She did know. But the horror must have shown on her face, or perhaps Vincent had picked it up from her thoughts. She was usually so good at controlling her thoughts, but this … this had slid through all those defenses like a knife. Not again. Every time she started to get close to people, every time she started to get used to them, get comfortable with them, it was all ripped away. If that happened again…

"Hey." Vincent reached over and took her hand gently. "Penelope?"

But Penelope's gaze was fixed on Rick and Henry. The MAAB couldn't split them up, too – not now that they'd survived so much together. Penelope gripped Vincent's hand tightly. They can't.

"They won't." Vincent's voice was suddenly firm. Confident. Penelope looked down, and Vincent managed a smile. "It's okay. They won't split us up. It's not going to happen."

Penelope blinked. He wasn't just trying to calm her down; this was something more than that. He sounded so certain. But how could he be certain? Just a moment ago, he'd been saying…

There was just the barest hint of a nod. "I know. But they won't." He gave her hand a squeeze.

"Because I have a bargaining chip."

Secretary Nicholas Wright, 64

"And that's all he wants?"

Nicholas raised an eyebrow, but Judah nodded. "That's all he wants. They all stay together. He coaches. That's the deal."

Nicholas leaned back in his chair. "But do we want him coaching? We told him before that we'd have to rethink whether he should be coaching, and now you want him in that position?"

Judah waved a hand. "We said that because we thought he was our leak."

"And because he's deaf and has trouble even standing on his own."

Judah shrugged. "So we make sure to keep a fan blowing the right way and have plenty of chairs. Plenty of railings, too. Ramps instead of stairs where we need them. Is any of that really so hard?"

Nicholas cocked his head. "No, but I do wonder why he asked you."

"Probably because he already knew I want him involved. People listen to him, Nicholas. Not just the contestants, but the other coaches, too." He shook his head. "And he probably also chose me in order to avoid making it look suspicious. If he'd asked someone like Alvin, it might look like they were conspiring together to keep them all in one place so they could plan something."

"Can they?"

Judah shook his head. "Plan what? Everything they've planned so far has ended up working in our favor. Just look at what happened this year. Going public with the Games was their last-chance gamble, but look what it's done for us. Mack is scrambling to get those colonies sorted out as quickly as possible. People are supporting the Games. They're turning in their mutant friends and relatives. They're practically begging for a solution to what they've finally realized is a massive problem, and it's all because of the Games."

"So you don't think keeping them together poses a danger."

"No. I don't. If I thought having a group of them together was dangerous, I wouldn't have suggested forming a team out of the survivors to protect people from disasters like the ones we saw this year. If having Rick and Penelope together doing that isn't dangerous, I don't think the other four are going to add to the threat."

Nicholas nodded. "So Penelope said yes, and Henry said no. That's about what we expected."

"For now," Judah agreed.

"For now?"

"I didn't exactly present it as a one-time take-it-or-leave-it offer. If Penelope decides it feels too much like the life she was trying to escape from, she can bow out. Once they've fully recovered, if Henry decides they want to give it a try, they're welcome to change their mind. They're not enlisting, Nicholas. It's a volunteer squad, and that's what it should be."

Nicholas nodded. "Have you thought of a name?"

Judah shrugged. "Mack's your man for that sort of thing. What do you think of The Rescuers?"

Nicholas raised an eyebrow. "Isn't that an animated movie about mice?"

Judah sighed. "Probably. I'll see if they've got better ideas. In the meantime … is that a yes?"

"Hmm?"

"To Vincent's proposal."

Nicholas nodded. "We'll need to run it by the rest of the board, but it's a yes from me. We hadn't really given much thought to where we were sending them because we hadn't expected to be moving people to the colonies this soon. I know we'd discussed waiting to move the coaches, at least, until we had enough for each of the colonies to have one – sort of even their odds when it comes to the Games. Choose similar numbers from each colony, and have the coach who's living there coach those contestants – that sort of thing."

"You're worried that it might look like we're giving a particular colony an advantage if we put all of the coaches in one place."

Nicholas shrugged. "I'm sure we can come up with a fair solution."

"I think I may already have one."

Rick Clifton, 19

Everything was ready.

Rick took a deep breath as he settled into a chair on Henry's left. The chairs were big and comfortable – almost jarringly cozy. Across from them sat Mack, with a screen and a remote beside him. Vincent sat off to Henry's left, with Judah standing beside him. A fan had been positioned in just the right spot for Judah to pass on what was said to Vincent, and Vincent to pass it to Henry, in case that was faster than writing it down. Anita was ready with a white board and a marker, just in case.

Henry laid their hand on Rick's arm, and Rick realized his own hands were shaking. "It'll be fine," Henry whispered. "You've got this."

Rick wished he was as certain. But he gave Henry's hand a squeeze, grateful that they were there. They didn't have to be; Rick had made that clear. This interview was something he had to do, that Judah had suggested to him as part of what he had planned, but Henry had insisted that it would be better if both of them were here for this. And maybe it would be, but…

"Now remember, we're not live," Mack reminded them. "If you need a moment to think, that's fine. If you stumble over something, it's okay. Just say it again. Don't feel like you need to censor yourselves; we can always edit later. We just want some honest reactions, okay?"

Rick nodded. "Okay."

"Okay," Henry echoed after the message was relayed.

"Let us know if you need a break," came Alvin's voice from behind the camera. "We're not on a deadline here. We've already waited a while; we can wait a bit longer if we have to."

Rick nodded. It had been a week. A week since the end of the Games. A little more than two weeks since the start of the Games. Three weeks since they'd come to collect him in Kansas. It seemed like longer. It seemed like a lifetime.

For so many, it had been the rest of their lifetime.

"What?" Rick asked, aware that someone had said something.

Mack leaned forward. "I asked if you're ready."

No. He wasn't ready. He would probably never be ready for this. But he nodded anyway. "Yeah. Let's do it."

Mack nodded to Alvin, who gave him a signal. Mack turned to face the camera and began. "Welcome. I'm here today with the Victors of the Second Annual X-Games: Rick Clifton and Henry Helstrom. First, how are you two feeling?"

Rick froze. What the hell kind of question was that? Maybe a pretty standard one, he realized, but not one that he'd been prepared for. Sure, he was feeling better than he had at any point during the Games. His burns were healing. There would probably be some scarring, Anita had said, but with time and physical therapy, he would almost certainly have full mobility in his shoulder and arm – something that, ironically, might not have been the case if the girl at the end of the Games hadn't brought the injury back fresh so that it could heal properly this time. But was that the sort of answer Mack was looking for? What the hell was he supposed to say?

Before he could answer, Henry cut in. "Well, I'd say I'm feeling a bit less, to be honest, since I've only got one hand to do it with." They ran their fingers along the arm of the chair. "But this one still feels pretty well."

Rick was sure he saw Mack breathe a sigh of relief. "I'm happy to see you're in such good spirits. You had quite a close call."

After a moment for Judah and Vincent to relay the words, Henry shrugged. "Yeah, it got a bit rocky there for a while."

Rick couldn't help a smile. He caught Henry's gaze and mouthed thank you. Meanwhile, Mack continued. "You're right, it's been a bit of a rocky road." He turned back to the cameras. "Those of you who have been watching the Games this year might not be familiar with how much work goes on beforehand, so here's a little taste of what our contestants were up to before the Games started."

He pressed a button on the remote, and the screen lit up, showing a series of video clips. Some of them were from the talent show: Frederick melting the floor, Kylena fitting Evelyn inside one of her bubbles and making her fly, Henry's golems scampering out into the audience, Fae singing. Their names appeared at the bottom of the screen. "We'll add background music in post," Mack promised. "Something appropriately somber but anticipatory."

Rick said nothing. There was no good way to respond to that. Somber. Most of the people onscreen were dead now. He had no idea how most of them had died, but he knew he was going to find out soon. Clips from the talent show gave way to scenes of training. Marcus and Manaka racing each other. Savannah shooting lightning bolts, and Coburn shooting fire. Henry's golems fighting the rest of the team they'd been working with. Rick raised an eyebrow. So they had been able to make golems that large all along.

Then he saw himself, sparring with Vi. Rick swallowed hard. Vi had fought just as hard, just as fiercely, as he had. But Vi was dead, and he was still alive.

Then Henry's alliance was back onscreen, and Kiara was bringing back Vincent's broken leg, then healing it again. Rick glanced over at Henry. They hadn't mentioned they'd originally been working with Kiara, and Rick hadn't remembered it. Once he and Vi had teamed up, he hadn't paid all that much attention to which of the others were working together. It hadn't seemed important. But Henry had been working with the girl they'd killed at the end? What had happened?

Then Fae, who had also been part of Henry's group, screamed. Rick's gaze strayed to Vincent, who was sitting with his arms crossed, his cane leaning against the side of his chair. He wasn't watching the screen; Henry obviously didn't need him to relay that. Rick glanced back at the screen, where Henry was talking to Vincent. "Your secret's safe with me."

"Three days of training, and the contestants were ready for the Games," Mack continued when the video ended. "Rick, Henry, tell me, did you feel ready?"

No. No, he hadn't felt ready. But as it had turned out, he had been ready enough. They both had. They were the ones sitting here, after all. "More ready than I would have if we hadn't had time to train," Rick answered, hoping that was good enough.

Mack nodded. "Expand on that. What, specifically, was useful for you?"

"I…"

"It's okay. Take a moment."

Rick nodded and took a moment to collect his thoughts. "At the start of training, some members of the MAAB offered to help us with skills that didn't relate to our powers. Hand-to-hand combat, first aid, that sort of thing. Math, too, although I don't think too many people took Alvin up on that one. Training with Judah, getting some experience with a weapon – it meant I didn't have to rely on my power alone. I think that … that helped."

Mack gave him a thumbs-up and turned to Henry. "And how about you?"

Henry hesitated. "Honestly?"

Mack nodded. "Always."

Henry waited a moment, but then answered. "It was useful getting to know what the people I was working with could do. Learning the extent of their powers. Because the people you're working with during training … those might be people you end up fighting. And I think things might have gone a bit differently if I hadn't known how far both Fae and Kiara's powers could go."

Mack picked up the remote again. "Interesting. Now, we obviously know how everything turned out, but I know you two must have some questions about exactly what happened to some of the other contestants – or maybe even about what happened to each other during the Games. Shall we dive right in?"

Rick glanced at Henry, who waited a moment while the question made its way down the line and then shrugged. "Go ahead," Rick agreed.

Mack pressed a button. "The Games got off to quite a start for both of you – and for some of the other contestants, as well."

The screen flashed to life again, this time showing the bare, rocky landscape around the circle. One by one, contestants started emerging from the tunnels. Some ran. In fact, from the look of it, most of them ran. Some stopped to grab bags first; some didn't. A few of them went after each other, instead. Frederick chased after Evelyn, managing to melt her hair before Makenzie's shadow curled around his hands. Then Sybil came from behind Makenzie, strangling her. Kylena got there in time to shield Evelyn with her bubble, and Sybil and Frederick both ran off.

Henry's group, meanwhile, was being chased by Florence and Emery. They split up, and Fae screamed, deafening Florence – but also Iola. Your secret's safe with me. Henry hadn't told them that Kiara hadn't been able to heal Vincent. So that was what had happened. Rick opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, he and Vi appeared on the screen.

They went back to the tunnels. Vi went down into one of them. Rick was about to enter the other when the boy – Joseph – poked his head out and looked around. Rick looked away from the screen, but he heard the voice. "Please! Please, just let me go. I won't hurt you. I wasn't going to hurt you. I–"

Rick could feel his stomach churning. He heard the crack of the rock as it struck the boy's skull. Then he heard the girl's screams coming from the tunnel. They probably hadn't gotten much footage of that, but when he dared to glance back at the screen, Vi was dragging her body to the surface. Rick gripped the arms of the chair, shaking. Finally, Judah's voice cut in.

"Okay, let's take a break."

Henry Helstrom, 14

We're taking a break now.

Henry relaxed a little, slumping back in their chair as the screen went dark. At least they had a moment to prepare for what they knew was coming next. It wasn't going to be pretty.

But Rick … he had just done something not so pretty himself. Except he hadn't just done it. He'd done it weeks ago. Henry just hadn't found out about it until now. Neither of them had wanted to talk about the Games. Maybe they should have warned each other about what was coming, but no one else had suggested it either.

Because of course they hadn't. They want honest reactions. That was what Vincent had told them at the start. And honestly … Henry was impressed. Going after a couple contestants at the start while they were still waiting helplessly in the tunnels had been clever. Brutal, but clever.

Not very clever on the other contestants' part. What had they been thinking, hiding like that? Of course, they probably hadn't been thinking. They'd been afraid. And that was perfectly understandable. Henry had been afraid. Rick probably had been, too. But he hadn't let that stop him from doing what had to be done.

But complimenting Rick on the clever strategy right now probably wasn't the way to go. It hadn't been his idea, after all. It had been Vi's. But he had gone along with it. He had been willing to do what had to be done. He'd played the Game the way the MAAB had wanted. They both had. And they'd played well enough to be sitting here, alive. But the Games were over now.

Maybe that meant they could stop playing.

Henry turned to Rick, who was leaning forward in his chair, head resting in his hands. Henry reached over and put their hand on his shoulder. "Hey." Rick looked up. "If you thought that was bad, you're about to see me smash someone to a pulp. Just a heads up in case you're feeling a bit queasy already."

Rick cocked his head. Clearly, that wasn't the reaction he'd been expecting. He turned to Anita, his mouth moving quickly. She handed over the white board and marker. Rick wrote for a moment, then turned it towards Henry. One of your teammates?

Henry shook their head, then waited a moment while the dizziness subsided. That was going to be a hard habit to break. It wasn't a bad guess, considering what they'd done to Kiara at the end of the Games. "No, I left them pretty quickly after the start. They found out that I knew about what happened to Vincent, and … well, they didn't take it well. I got as far away as I could. A girl found me the next morning, and … yeah. It didn't go her way."

Rick wiped the board clean, then wrote, You were alone all that time? Before I found you?

Henry fought back the impulse to shake their head. "No. I was working with Frederick for a while. He was running away from the vampire and the werewolf when he found me."

Rick cocked his head, then wrote, But you didn't smash him.

"I…" Henry hesitated. "A pair of gloves fell out of the sky, and I thought it was a message telling us to team up." They turned to Vincent. "Was it?"

After a moment while Judah relayed the words, Vincent's thoughts came through. Yes. We thought the two of you would have a better chance together.

"You were helping us?"

There was just a hint of a delay this time before Vincent answered. Not just you two, but yes.

Henry hesitated. That didn't quite seem fair, but they were glad they'd teamed up with Frederick rather than fighting. They still weren't sure how that fight would have gone. "Thank you." They turned back to Rick. "What about you? Was it just you and Vi the whole time until you found me?"

Rick took a bit longer writing this time. Mostly, yes. Teamed up with another group for a little while, but it didn't last. Thought five of us would have a better chance against someone shooting lightning. We didn't realize her friend could shoot fire.

Henry winced. "Ouch."

Rick nodded. The other group left us after that. Just the two of us for a while. He erased the board, wrote something else, hesitated, then showed Henry what he'd written. What happened to Frederick?

"I'm not sure," Henry admitted. "We ran into one of the boys he'd been working with before me, and then … then the tornadoes hit. They wanted to head to a cave Frederick had found. I thought it would be better to head back to the tunnels and try to hide inside them. I didn't make it back to the tunnels in time, though. I don't know if they made it to the caves or not, but something must have happened to them because…"

Henry didn't finish the thought. They didn't have to. Something must have happened to Frederick and Seb because they weren't the ones sitting here. Henry and Rick were. Henry hesitated, but decided they might as well ask. They would find out soon enough anyway. "What caused the tornadoes? I mean, I know you did, but … what happened?"

For a moment, Rick didn't write anything, and Henry worried that maybe they'd asked the wrong question. When Rick did start writing, he wrote slowly, but finally, he turned the board to face Henry. –The–vam–Florence found us. She went after Vi. I tried to help, but I wasn't fast enough to get by the boy she was working with. Vi knew he was going to die, so he told the MAAB to turn his collar off. His power made him unlucky, so I guess he figured that if something bad happened to him right then, it would happen to Florence, too. Or maybe he saw the storm starting to form. He told me to run, and the tornado swept them up. –I–didn't–thi– –We–didn't–reali– I just wanted to live.

Henry's eyes lingered for a while on the last word. Live. Rick had just wanted to live. That was all Henry had wanted, too. Neither of them had wanted this. Henry reached over and gave Rick's hand a squeeze. "And you did. We're both alive. It's going to be okay." Maybe if they said it often enough, they would both eventually believe it.

Rick nodded, then slid his hand out of Henry's and wiped the board clean. He thought for a moment, then wrote, Did Fae find you after the tornado?

"Yeah." They waited a moment, but Rick didn't start writing. Maybe he didn't want to press the question if Henry was uncomfortable. But he was going to find out anyway. What the hell. "She and Kiara found me. Kiara could tell how bad I was hurt. That's part of – was part of her power. But she couldn't get to me because the golem was in the way. But Fae started talking, and … you know what I said earlier about knowing the extent of Kiara and Fae's powers?" When he nodded, Henry continued. "I knew that if Fae could make me lose control of the golem, I was done for. You remember how soothing her music was during the talent show? We'd practiced while she was singing, and it was hard to concentrate. I figured if I could get her to scream first…" They trailed off.

Rick blinked. After a moment, a thought came through from Vincent. So it was deliberate.

"Yeah. Yeah, I meant to. I meant to make her scream. I knew what it would mean, but I…" They slumped back in their chair. "I just wanted to live."

This time, it was Rick who reached over and took their hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Henry held on tightly. They'd wanted to live. That was all they'd wanted.

Slowly, Henry sat up a little straighter, gripping Rick's hand as the room started to spin. They closed their eyes for a moment, getting a grip. Ha. Getting a grip. They were alive. That was what mattered. They had survived. They and Rick were the survivors. Victors – that was the word Vincent had passed along from Mack. But that word didn't feel right. They didn't feel like they'd won. They just … hadn't died. But that was good enough.

It would have to be good enough.

Henry took a deep breath and opened their eyes. Rick was waiting patiently. "And I guess that brings us both up to speed," Henry finished. "We know what happened after that – to us, at least. You found me. We headed for the mountain. And … we made it." There. That would make for fewer surprises. They still didn't know what had happened to some of the other contestants, but no more mysteries about each other. "I guess we can probably get started again, huh?"

Nothing for a moment, and then a thought from Vincent. I don't think we really stopped.

Henry glanced over at Mack for the first time since they'd taken a break. Mack was leaning forward in his chair, hands folded, watching the pair of them. Henry's eyes flicked over to Alvin, who was still pointing the camera directly at them. Henry glared. "You got all of that, didn't you."

Alvin nodded. Mack nodded. Vincent's thoughts had a hint of a sigh when they came through. He said he wanted honest reactions. Your reaction to something horrible was to open up to each other. That's about as honest as it gets. I'm sure it'll make a good video. The next thought was quieter, as if Vincent was trying to keep it from anyone he didn't want to hear it. Don't tell them it also looks very, very human.

Henry glanced over at Rick. Had he heard that? Had Anita, who was sitting on his other side? Henry grit their teeth. Maybe the Games didn't really end. Maybe they just got a bit less deadly. Henry sighed. Okay, then.

"Let's get this over with."

Rick Clifton, 19

There were still some surprises.

Rick and Henry watched silently as the rest of the Games played out on the screen in front of them. He'd wondered occasionally what had happened to Jaime and Kylena after they'd left him and Vi to fend for themselves. As it turned out, the pair had gone after Seb and Alphonso, who had settled down in a house Seb had created. They'd had shelter, food, guns, and even a guard dog – but none of that had mattered. They'd been careless, and Jaime and Kylena had taken advantage of that and killed them both.

Except … not entirely, as it turned out. Seb reappeared a safe distance away after writing his name in his own blood. Clever. He made his way to Frederick and Henry, but then the tornadoes appeared. Henry split off from the two boys and made their way back towards the circle. Rick watched as the golem formed around them out of the ground, acting like a suit of armor as they were picked up by the tornado and hurled to what would have certainly been their death if they hadn't had that sort of protection.

The tornadoes also came close to Liv and her group. She managed to disperse one before another appeared, scattering debris everywhere as Elena scrambled to protect the other two by turning into metal. But she wasn't big enough to completely shield them both, and Liv's leg was hurt. But she fared better than Elio, who was swept up by the tornado after using his power to shove Lea to safety. The tornado threw him mercilessly to the ground, but from the look of his body, the debris in the funnel had killed him before he even hit the rocks.

Another tornado swept apart the house that Seb had created, but Kylena's bubble protected her and Jaime from the debris that the tornado had scattered. Iola wasn't so lucky. She shielded Kiara and Fae with her own body, protecting them from the worst of the storm, but she died while Kiara was healing Fae.

Kiara and Fae found Henry, lying where the tornado had thrown them. Kiara was shouting, but it was Fae's voice that had frightened Henry into their desperate gambit. "You could have done something," Fae whispered, and there was something disarming about her voice, even on the screen.

"Yes, I could have done something," came Henry's reply. "But I didn't. I made a choice. I chose to protect myself. I'm not going to apologize for that."

Fae screamed. Rick glanced over at Henry, who gave his hand a squeeze. Goading Fae into screaming had also been a choice. A choice that had probably saved their life. Even knowing what it had cost, they clearly considered that a good bargain.

Frederick and Seb, meanwhile, had found the cave they'd been looking for – and found Kenji. After a tense standoff, the three of them decided to work together, and Kenji went off to explore the caves. That part was only audio, maybe recorded by the boys' collars. "No cameras in the caves," Mack explained with a shrug.

Rick raised an eyebrow. Maybe they hadn't known the cave was there. They certainly hadn't known where it led, because when Kenji returned, he revealed that he'd found a way out, and sent Seb off alone with some directions that made no sense because none of them could see what he had been pointing to. Rick couldn't help a smile. Clever. So maybe he and Henry weren't the only survivors.

The last surprise came when envelopes dropped for the contestants, containing numbers that led them towards nearby contestants. Rick raised an eyebrow. He hadn't gotten one, and neither had Henry. At the time, of course, they were probably the nearest contestants to each other, and had found each other anyway, so that was probably for the best.

It was certainly better than what happened to most of the contestants who found each other. Liv, Lee, and Elena attacked Kylena and Jaime – an attack that only Liv and Kylena survived. That left Liv by the circle and Kylena running off into the distance. Savannah found Liv at the circle, and the pair of them teamed up. Kiara and Fae, meanwhile, had decided to ignore the note entirely, heading off in a different direction.

Everything moved quickly after that. The rain and the hail began to drive the contestants to higher ground. Kylena found Lea and finished her off. Frederick was injured by a falling tree, and Kenji set out on a desperate attempt to find and kill the other contestants in time to save him. It didn't work. He found Savannah, who had been practically broadcasting her location, but he wasn't quite fast enough to escape her lightning, leaving Liv alone high up the mountain.

Then Kiara and Fae found Kylena, but didn't realize she had a gun until it was too late for Fae. Kiara killed Kylena, but the gun and the other supplies had been swept down the mountain. Rick shook his head. How different would things have been if she'd had a gun at the end of the Games? He probably would never have even known she was there.

As it was, he hadn't known how long she'd been there. She'd arrived at the final fight shortly after he'd charged Liv, and she'd waited. Waited for him to drop his knife, because she hadn't had a weapon of her own. Only then had she attacked Liv from behind, and then gone after Rick.

And Henry had saved him, dropping their own armor, forming a golem around Kiara, and crushing her. Then Alvin and Anita parachuted in, and Rick could hear clearly now what he'd only been vaguely aware of then – Judah's voice telling him to focus, ordering him to focus, and the storm clearing enough for him to be able to land safely – and take off again.

Henry gave his hand a squeeze. "You didn't tell me about that."

Rick shook his head. Between the pain and the dark and the confusion, he'd been so out of it that he wasn't even sure if that part had been real or if he'd imagined it. "Thank you," Henry said quietly.

Rick nodded and picked up the white board again, then wrote, You're welcome. Thank you for saving me.

"You're welcome."

I made a choice. I chose to protect myself. That was what Henry had told Kiara. But that wasn't what they'd chosen at the end of the Games. They'd chosen to protect Rick. And he was alive because of that choice. Things could have gone so differently…

But they hadn't. He was alive. And Henry was alive. And the Games were over, but Rick knew they weren't done here. He turned to Judah, who nodded. "Ready?"

"Probably not," Rick admitted. "But go ahead."

Judah nodded crisply to Mack, who pressed another button on his remote. "Now, Rick, we've been focusing so far on events inside the Games themselves. Would you like to see a little of what's been happening outside the Games?"

No. No, he didn't want to see it at all. But this was the reason they were holding this little interview in the first place. This was what he'd let Judah talk him into, so they might as well finish it. He nodded, which was apparently good enough for Mack, who pressed a button.

The screen lit up again – this time with images rather than videos clips. Buildings leveled. Roofs blown away. Walls collapsed. Trees uprooted. Rescuers digging through the rubble, searching for survivors. People being carried on stretchers.

There wasn't much footage of the actual tornado – just a few choppy videos, probably from cell phones. Power lines snapping. Flashes of lightning. Mack nodded. "It was the middle of the night, so most people saw nothing. But someone managed to shoot this." He clicked another button, and a video finally showed the tornado, a dark, towering shape against the night sky. Rick stared, silent. What was there to say? What could he say? Even what he and Judah had planned for him to say sounded hollow in his head now.

Mack turned the screen off, then looked directly into the camera. "Nine people in Grand Junction, Colorado lost their lives as the result of the devastating EF4 tornado that struck with little warning in the middle of the night. Nearly a hundred people were injured. Homes were destroyed, families devastated. Do you have anything you'd like to say, Rick?"

Rick hesitated. Only a moment, but that was long enough for Henry to cut in first. "Maybe if you didn't want something like that to happen, you shouldn't have stuck someone so powerful in a death match in the first place. What did you think was going to happen?"

There was a snort from behind the camera. "You tell 'em, kid," Alvin mumbled, and Rick hoped that would make it down the communication relay to Henry. They were right, of course. It was the MAAB's fault.

But that didn't mean it wasn't also his fault.

Mack leaned forward. "The MAAB is taking responsibility for our role in this tragedy. Clearly, future Games will need to be even more isolated from innocent populations. Indeed, tragedies like this are the reason mutants in general must be isolated from the general population – for their safety, and for the safety of those whose lives are threatened when mutants lose control of their powers."

Rick clenched his fists. Great. More ammunition for the "move mutants into colonies" camp. He'd known that, of course, but it was a bit different hearing someone like Mack say it. Someone who was actively working to make it happen. Rick glanced over at Judah, who nodded. Mack was also giving him an opening. He just had to take it.

Rick turned back to Mack. "You're right. I lost control. Maybe I didn't really have control in the first place. We only had three days to train, and that's not a lot. If I'd had more training, maybe I would have been able to calm the storm down after using it to save my own life. Everything after that was … unintended. I never meant to hurt anyone outside the Games. But whether I meant to or not, I did. And now I have to live with that."

Rick leaned forward. "But now I have a chance to try to make up for it. Judah– Colonel Burgess is putting together a team of mutants – of survivors who want to help protect people from exactly these sorts of disasters. Imagine if I could create a rainstorm in an area where there's a forest fire, or where there's a drought. Imagine a mutant like Penelope absorbing the energy of a volcano, like she did at the end of the Games last year – but instead of using that energy to destroy an island, channeling it into something useful. That's the sort of thing we can accomplish if we have the right training – training we'll have time for now, under proper supervision."

Mack turned to Judah. "Proper supervision. Tell us a little more about how important that is."

Judah nodded. "There have been attempts at something like this before, but they all had one major flaw: the groups were answerable to no one. They picked their own battles – and sometimes picked the wrong ones. We won't be fighting battles here. We'll be tackling natural disasters, providing relief where it's needed. We're not a combat group, and it's not a full-time commitment. Think of us as more like … volunteer firefighters, even if it's not always literal fires. We'll be there when people need us, but only then. We'll answer calls for help, but we won't go out looking for fights."

Mack nodded. "That sounds like a very worthwhile endeavor. One more question, Rick. It's true, is it not, that you weren't certain you were a mutant until you were selected for the Games?"

Only because none of you bastards ever came to tell me my mother was a mutant. But that wasn't going to help. Rick glanced over at Vincent, who seemed just as unsure about where Mack was going with this. "That's true," he agreed. "I had suspicions, but … I wasn't sure."

"And what would have been different about your life if you had been certain at an early age that you were, in fact, a mutant? Do you think it would have helped you learn to control your abilities? Would you have been more prepared for an unexpectedly stressful situation? Would you have been less likely to, as you said, lose control?"

Rick raised an eyebrow. "I guess. I don't know what would have been different, but … yes, it would have been nice to know sooner."

Mack nodded. "Of course it would. You may be aware – or perhaps not, depending on how closely you follow the news – that there is a plan to start resettling the mutant population in colonies. Those assignments will be made partly based on the danger posed by their power. Someone who can make their shadow come to life, for example, probably doesn't need as much supervision as someone who can, say, melt an entire building, or flood a whole city. Agreed?"

Rick said nothing. It made sense, but what did that mean for him and Henry? Vincent had promised they wouldn't be split up, but…

"And we can all agree that it's helpful to identify mutants as early as possible – potentially even before the mutation itself is apparent. The mutant gene can be identified quite early in children even before there are any outward signs. Some studies have suggested it might be possible to identify mutants at birth."

Shit. That was where he was going. "So your plan is to start testing … kids? Babies? And putting them in camps, too?"

"Colonies," Mack corrected. "And yes, that is what is being proposed."

The question was hanging there in the air, obvious. So he asked it. "You just said mutants would be assigned to cam– to colonies based on the level of their power. What about all these … kids who don't know what their power even is?"

Rick could tell from Mack's expression that he'd asked the right question. Or at least, the question Mack had wanted him to ask. "Mutants whose powers have not yet developed will be housed in an intermediate colony, where they will be monitored, and where professionals will be stationed to help evaluate their powers when they do become apparent. Three of your coaches have some … experience in dealing with young mutants, and have volunteered to assist us in that area. We were hoping that our Victors might also be able to lend their expertise."

Rick glanced at Henry, who seemed just as baffled by the sudden sidetrack in the conversation. But then a thought came through from Vincent, loud and clear. I guess that's the public excuse for keeping us together. Play along.

Henry shrugged. "I'd love to lend a helping hand. Just one, mind you. I'm a little short on extra hands at the moment."

Rick nodded. "Count me in." It wasn't quite what he'd been expecting, and he still wasn't quite sure what to expect.

But wherever they went, at least they would be together.

Dr. Alvin Mendelson, 61

"You were planning to do that anyway."

Alvin settled back into his chair as Mack nodded. "Of course. It makes sense. The sooner we detect mutants, the better it is for everyone. And once mutants have been identified, it's safer for everyone if they're isolated from the rest of the population. They get to be among their own kind, and non-mutants are protected from the possibility of some sort of disaster when their powers do start to appear. It's a win-win."

Alvin shook his head. "Then why bring Rick into it? Why bring up anything at all about the fact that he didn't know he was a mutant? If this was the plan anyway–"

"Because there was always going to be some resistance to the idea. Oh, not from everyone, to be sure. What parent wouldn't want to know at birth whether their child is a mutant? Whether that baby they're holding in their arms is going to have a normal life or … something else? Wouldn't you want to know?"

Alvin shrugged. "Not a parent."

Mack sighed. "Not the point. Why do I even bother?"

"Because you like to hear yourself talk."

"Look, you asked. Most people would want to know, but some would have a hard time reconciling that with the human instinct to love their children unconditionally. If they're going to love their child anyway, why does it matter if they're a mutant?"

"So…"

"So we frame it as something that's best for the child, too. We point out that the kids would also want to know. If Rick had known he was a mutant earlier, his whole life might have been different. Hell, if his mother had known when he was born that he was a mutant, too, she could probably have given him some pointers – or pointed him to other people who could, once she was gone. But she never got that chance."

"So this … intermediate mutant camp–"

"Colony."

"So this camp is just going to be full of children waiting for their powers to appear, with no families to help them deal with it? That's your plan?"

Mack shrugged. "Not necessarily. If their families decide to move there with them, that's their choice. Same goes for the other colonies. We're still working out all the details, but we're not going to actively separate families that want to stay together."

"How kind," Alvin muttered, pouring as much sarcasm as he could into the response. "So not only does the rest of society get rid of mutants, but they're also rid of anyone who might be sympathetic enough to join their children in voluntary exile. Very neat. Very tidy. And everyone will think it's a good thing."

"It is a good thing," Mack insisted.

Alvin shook his head. He really believed that. Mack leaned forward in his chair. "Look, you're not a parent, but I am. My son turns ten in a few weeks. He's not a mutant; we've had him tested. But if he was, I would want what's best for him. And what's best for children like that is to be in a place where their powers don't pose a threat to themselves or to others. It's that simple. We want to keep people safe. That's it."

"And would you be joining him?"

"What?"

"In this hypothetical scenario. If your son was a mutant and he was taken off to one of these camps, would you be joining him there?"

"No. But we'd visit – my wife and I. We'd keep in contact. He'd still be our son. This isn't some bottomless void we're sending them off to, Alvin. Think of it as a … a boarding school. Of course, there will be some families who choose to cut contact, but that's what they would have done anyway. Look at mutants like Emery, whose father abused her because of what she was. Mutants like Iola, who ran away from a similar situation to find others like her. Mutants like Alannah, who ended up in an asylum because of the damage her powers had caused. Or look at Vi. His life was miserable because of his power – and that misery extended to everyone he got close to. That's the alternative. Maybe what I'm proposing isn't a perfect solution, but it's better. I'm sure any of them would have preferred life in one of the colonies to the way they grew up."

Alvin shook his head. "You're cherry-picking, and you know it."

"You think they're outliers?"

"I think there's a sampling bias. I think if you're looking at mutants who are more likely to be on our radar, mutants who are logical choices for the Games, you're going to find that a fair portion of them have had less-than-ideal childhoods. Because the ones who grew up in loving homes, the ones whose powers aren't a threat to anyone, the ones who have had the privilege of being able to keep their heads down – they're less likely to have been noticed so far."

Mack waved a hand. "Mutants like Makenzie? Like Fae? Is that who you mean?"

"Yes. We knew about both of them because they registered themselves. Not everyone is that trusting. Once this testing is implemented, once it's required, I think you'll discover there are more mutants in their position than you might think."

Mack shrugged. "Then we'll adapt. Like I said earlier, colony assignments will be made partly based on the threat their powers pose. If that means we end up with a few colonies of mostly harmless mutants, I don't think that's necessarily a problem."

Alvin sighed. "Of course you don't."

Mack nodded. "And I'm sure you do. Because you think everything is a problem. But the thing is, you never seem to have any solutions – just criticism for any idea that someone else offers. Any choice involves a risk, so you'd rather just sit back and not make any decisions at all. But that's not an option for all of us. Some of us have work to do."

Alvin watched as Mack left. Things were moving quickly now. The fire was spreading. And Mack was right; he didn't have a solution. Not anymore. Not now that too many things were already set in motion. He couldn't stop the fire from spreading, but…

It depends on where the drops fall. That was what Anita had said. Maybe there was something he could do. A little thing – something Penelope had mentioned by chance a few days ago. Or maybe it hadn't been by chance. Maybe she'd known he would remember that little detail.

Alvin sighed. He was good at details. Details that other people missed. Little things that they dismissed as unimportant. Maybe even Penelope hadn't realized that something like this might actually make a difference.

But sometimes it was the smallest things that did.

Henry Helstrom, 14

They'd just needed to be alone for a little while.

Henry took a few more careful steps down the hallway before collapsing into one of the chairs that had been placed at short intervals along either side of the hall. The others had been reluctant to let them go wandering the halls by themself, but they'd insisted that they wanted to be alone for a little while. And that was true, but what they really wanted was some fresh air.

Weird, really. Even after more than a week of being nearly killed in the fresh air, it hadn't taken long for the indoors to become uncomfortably stale again. But the chances of them being able to sneak outside without anyone noticing were slim. Not like the Wheelers' house. Or any of their other foster homes, for that matter. They'd never really had much difficulty getting away when they just needed a moment to themself.

Henry leaned back against the wall, catching their breath. Their ribs still ached, and the dizziness didn't seem to be getting any better, but at least those things felt real. The rest … it hadn't quite sunk in yet. The colonies. The team Judah was forming. The fact that Rick had actually wanted to join him. The fact that they had been the ones to actually survive the Games. It was just … a lot. They were still alive, but it didn't quite feel real yet.

Maybe they just needed time. Henry ran their fingers along the railing, waiting while the dizziness subsided. Slowly, they got to their feet again and started to make their way down the hall. Time. Yes, that was it. They just needed time. Eventually, it would feel real. Maybe it would never feel normal, but what was normal anyway? Normal had never really been an option for someone like them.

A shadow ahead of them made Henry look up, and their hand closed around the railing as the sudden motion sent the hallway spinning. They managed to steady themself and looked up – slower, this time – as Alvin hurried towards them. "I'm okay," Henry insisted, eyeing the next chair, which was still a good distance away. Alvin must have noticed, because he scooped up the folding chair and set it beside Henry. "Thanks," Henry muttered, sinking gratefully into the chair.

Alvin grabbed the next folding chair in line, brought it back, and sat down across from Henry. Only then did Henry notice the white board and marker in his hand. Henry raised an eyebrow. "Are you all just carrying those around now or what?"

Alvin scribbled for a moment, then turned the board. I was looking for you.

Henry cocked their head. "Thought you could track us with these." They tapped their collar.

Alvin wiped the board off, then wrote, Not looking for you because we lost track of you. Just wanted to talk to you.

"Okay."

I'd like your help with something.

Henry scoffed. "I'm not joining Judah's little team." They'd thought about it. Maybe they weren't personally in the best shape to be rushing into dangerous situations, but it wasn't hard to imagine scenarios where their golems could be useful without putting themself in harm's way. Judah had compared the team to firefighters, and golems wouldn't be hurt by rushing into, say, a house fire to rescue someone trapped inside. They could clear away rubble faster than any human. The golems could be useful. Henry could be useful.

But they didn't want to be useful – not to the MAAB. Henry didn't owe them anything. Not that Rick did, either, but he obviously felt guilty about what his tornadoes had done, and wanted to do something to make it up to the people who hadn't had anything to do with trapping him in a death match. And that was fair enough. Henry hadn't tried to persuade him not to join Judah's team. That was his choice. But it wasn't something they wanted for themself.

The trouble was, they weren't sure what they did want. Weren't sure what life would look like in the colony once the six of them moved there. What would they be doing with their time until it was time for the next Games? Henry winced as their ribs reminded them that part of what they would be doing would be recovering. And that would take some time, but once they'd fully healed…

Except Judah had made it clear that what he was planning wouldn't take up all of Rick's time, either. Penelope had been very insistent about that before she'd agreed. And Maria, Ian, and Vincent certainly didn't have powers that would be useful for his team. So what were they supposed to do?

Live. That was what they'd fought so hard for. They'd wanted to live. But what did that mean, now that they actually had the chance?

Henry looked up, and saw that Alvin was waiting with the board turned towards them again. That's not what I want help with. He can do his own recruiting. Want to step outside for a moment?

Henry kept their face as neutral as they could, trying not to show that that was exactly what they'd wanted. "What for?"

Got an errand to run. Just to town and back. We'll be back before anyone knows we're gone.

Henry raised an eyebrow. "The last time you interrupted me while I was out on a stroll and told me you wanted me to come with you, it wasn't exactly a picnic."

Alvin quickly wrote, I never said it would be.

That was true, at least. In fact, he'd said quite the opposite, back when he'd found them wandering around Exeter in the middle of the night. If nothing else, Alvin had been honest about what he was doing. So maybe he was being honest now. "Would you tell me if you were going to dump me in the wilderness like you people did with Piper?"

Alvin nodded, and Henry let it drop. For all they knew, he had told Piper. "So why do you need my help?"

Alvin wrote for a moment, then turned the board. Didn't say I needed it. Said I wanted it. If you don't want to come, that's fine. Just thought you might want to get away for a little bit.

Henry gave in. That was what they'd wanted. Slowly, they got to their feet. "Errands, huh? Got a shopping list? Did we run out of groceries? Need to drop off the mail at the post office? Stuff like that?"

Alvin smiled, wiped off the board, wrote something, then turned to board towards Henry. It was a list – a rather short list. Henry blinked, put it together, then nodded.

"I think I'm the perfect choice to help with that."

"Humans will learn to respect you."
"I would rather they fear me."
"They'll do that, too."