Chapter Fifteen: The curse of duality is to love and lose (Night Two)
"Inside each of us, there is the seed of both good and evil. It's a constant struggle as to which one will win. And one cannot exist without the other." - Eric Burdon.
Angela Bellsand, District Three tribute, she/her
Team Lounge, Floor Three HG 87 Tower
6:00 pm, June 24th, HG 87
Nothing better than a staring contest with my mentor.
"So… how was training?"
The rest of the 'team' have been walking on eggshells around me ever since last night. I came back up to some apologies, some sympathetic looks, but it's still just pity upon pity.
"Never do that again, Angela." Ada's jaw is clenched. Not sure if she's more pissed at me or them. "Most tributes aren't stupid enough to kill here but…"
The others exchange glances.
"Each rule is written in blood. I don't want to see you hurt."
"Best close your eyes when you watch the games, then."
The others have shown that they don't owe me kindness. So why I should I provide any?
"It went okay." I don't want to talk to him, but I know Edison will just keep pestering me otherwise. Fulfilling mentor obligations. Probably pissed he can't be out collecting sponsors for Hal.
"Are you sure?" He places his hands on the table. "Ada called, said you came back up here early. One wasn't bothering you, was she?"
"No." I hold in a sigh. "I told you yesterday. She found me on their floor, told me to fuck off. Can't you just leave it alone? Why would I want to be around a bunch of bloodthirsty freaks? She gave me a warning, so I took it."
His lip twitches. Oh, right, he was one of those bloodthirsty freaks. Same as Hal. Volunteers. A concept that once was taboo in District Three. It would've stayed that way if not for them. There wouldn't be whispers of an academy, or at least a program. No idiots dreaming of Threes as Careers.
I don't care. At least Regina was honest with me. I know she's not looking out for anyone but herself, that I'm playing second fiddle. It's the only way forward.
"... You can't just lay down and die." His voice is soft, doing the same thing Kelvin did yesterday. Like I'm some kind of stray animal. "Your family wouldn't want that."
"And what the hell would you know?" I can't help but glare. "If you'd been paying attention, you'd know that my family is gone. What they want doesn't matter. I didn't want to be down there, so I left. Got sick of the Careers throwing their weight around and the freak from Five sizing me up like I couldn't even see him."
"... We told you not to pay attention to any of that, Angela." He rehearses his lines. "You'll only hurt your own chances. I can't help you in there."
As if it matters. As if the minute my back is turned he won't just go running back to his little family. Giving actual advice, focusing on his sponsors. Then turning back around and lying to my face about it. Keep it consistent, Walker. Either only lie, or only tell the truth.
"I'm tired, Edison. I'm going to bed." I shove the chair back, wincing at the sound.
"What? So you're just giving up?"
He's trying to clear his guilty conscience. I won't let that happen. I'm not their fucking charity case.
"I didn't choose to be here, Edison. You did. So whatever Career, volunteer, trainee, whatever background advice you want to give me? Save it. Go talk to your brother. After all, it's your fault he's here. Save face while you still can. Look after him while you can."
He stops like he's been shot. It was obvious as soon as they had that conversation in the elevator. Not like it's a family curse, not like me. Just a string of stupid, selfish decisions. I have no sympathy left for the Walker boys.
"... That's none of your business."
"You made it your business when you decided I wasn't worth mentoring." I open my door. "Good night."
I stop before I can slam it. Lock it before he can rattle the handle and try to convince me to come back out.
"You haven't even-" He lowers his voice from the shout, voice clearly coming through gritted teeth. "You need to eat. You haven't even had dinner. You need to keep your strength up."
Don't care.
I lay down on my bed, still in the training garb. I can't bear to go under the covers, too constricting. I'm not used to them. But I do grab a pillow, and scream into it for good measure.
I don't like to think about them. My parents, families in general. I used to hear the whispers around the community house. The way that some family names are just cursed for one reason or another. Superstition. Historical grudges. Just plain bad luck. Genetic misfortune.
I've never been able to figure out which of them was true.
"Poor lamb." The administrators talk between themselves. "I heard it was a bout of illness. The Daddy got typhoid, and spread it to his pregnant Missus. When they found the little one, her parents'd already been dead for three days. But I just heard that on the grapevine."
"I wouldn't be surprised." The one in glasses looks over at me, and I quickly turn my head, continuing to bind together pages. "You know the Bellsands never make it past thirty. Marry young, die young. Most of them got half that… doesn't look good for the little one."
"My sister used to crush on her father, you know. We had to keep her away. Broke her heart, of course, but it was better like this."
"So sickly too, she only got back from that bout of TB. A trooper but… well they all thought they'd be the exception."
A clamour of muttered 'hmms' in agreements is all I can bear to hear before I tune them out.
Just another story. How can they know when even I don't? How can they expect me to miss something I never had. I've had a grave, but that's all. A paupers grave. I can't even be sure if they're both in there. What kind of sibling I would have had. If my mother was even pregnant at all. What right do they have to speculate?
Even my name… the only proof it's mine is a birth certificate.
Just breathe. You're still here. For now. Every move monitored, every word recorded, but alive. Unharmed. For now.
'The bloodline ends with me.' I'd hear other workhouse kids joking about it. But really, what is there to end? What's left if I go out? A couple past employers, kids with vague school time memories. A plague-filled life and pain-filled death, no one to bury me.
Not… not unless I can find someone here stupid enough to bring me along. Then maybe. Maybe.
And I'm not… there has to be a catch, there always is, it's one of the first things you learn. Kindness is conditional if not an outright farce. Being a victor, there'll be something double-edged. Especially if it's Three. Especially if it's me.
Everyone knows by now there are too many Walkers running around. Too many Three Victors. Hell, if I'm doing the maths right, we're catching up to the likes of District Four. How funny would it be for me of all people to make it? How bad would the consequences of survival be?
There are all these rumours. Some crazy, some simple. That when you win, you dedicate your whole life and soul to Panem. That they plant something in your brain to control you. Pay off your peers to watch you, disappear anyone that causes too much trouble. Not like that's only applicable to Victors.
We had to be so careful at work. All the tech, all the data. If you saw something you shouldn't have, no you didn't. You kept your head down and any time the Peacekeepers came near you shut up. Even low level employees like us, where all you did was bind papers or make spreadsheets, any wrong move could be misconstrued.
Hell, even I know things about other Districts I shouldn't. Small things, unimportant things. Like how the famine in Ten only just started subsiding after their last victor. The construction materials sent to Five to strengthen the levees on the Styx.
I never dared write anything down.
The first time I saw someone die was for treason against the Capitol. An employee of one of the universities, data scraping or something like that. They didn't kill him in the square. It was a District wide feed, played during the mandatory broadcasts in the middle of lunch. A new, 'humane' method of execution. I always thought they must have meant humane for the executioner. It was some kind of gas, something that sent blood and bile and vomit streaming out of every orifice.
I wasn't the only kid in the home that night to have nightmares.
Other times, people would just disappear. At first, I never thought much of it. Three's a big place, and the Capitol will move you to whatever department they see fit. But there were times when it didn't make sense. When project leads would just go AWOL, or when my second manager just up and vanished twenty minutes into the night shift, never to be seen again.
Stands to reason that as a Victor, the knowledge is more intimate, more terrifying. But at the same time… wouldn't they be harder to disappear? Even if I fucked up… you still have the likes of Hertz Walker walking around freely in the District, training his siblings illegally.
The safety wouldn't be guaranteed. But it beats death on the street when I get turfed out at eighteen. A warm bed, stocked cupboards, constantly travelling.
I've never gotten the chance to think about life in the future. Didn't think I'd get one.
I can't get my hopes up. Meeting Regina was a coincidence. Being offered protection was coincidence, and I know she doesn't have my interests in mind. I said I'd give her information, spy on the others. The strong, the weak… as long as it's not me. And… no one said I had to tell her the truth.
The Twelves, Fives, Sevens, Nines… all dead meat. But if I can be the one to convince Regina about where they'll be, who's the most lucrative target… then I can… I will get a little further. The whisper in her ear. These aren't my people. They're not my friends. My mentor made that clear enough.
If I die a rat, so be it. Who's left to spit on my body? Who would care about another kid who died in another stupid way?
And if, if, by all the blood spilled in these games, if I win… why should I be branded a traitor? For playing the game forced upon me?
Evil people have done far more and remained loved. Don't I deserve it too, just for a little while?
Hali Bourne, District Four Tribute, she/her
Dining Room, Floor One
8:00pm
Well. To call this awkward would be an understatement. As soon as Jimmy and I got back upstairs after training, Barry immediately accosted us with an invitation to an alliance dinner. So, here we are.
Jimmy and I are next to each other, he's been glued to me all day, our mentors opposite. One of Two's mentors, the man, sits next to Jimmy, the woman next to Barry. Flavian and Aurelia are opposite one another, each next to their mentor. At the head of the table, the District One mentors. Next to each of them, the Ones. Staring each other down. I'm not surprised.
We reconvene at the centre of the room, weapons at our sides. I try my best to keep a straight face, but Jimmy keeps on joking. Even when we were going around to 'intimidate' (stare at with weapons on hand) the other tributes, he kept on trying to get me to face crack. He finally got me when we talked to the Twelves. Now I can't hear the word 'Cassie' without going into giggles. Jimmy has it pitch perfect, lovesick puppy tone and all.
"So…" Regina starts off before we've stood even a second, clearly eager to get this all started. "We have some decisions to make."
Paxton nods quietly, as if they've already pre-discussed this.
"Such as?" I'm surprised Flavian even showed up. He didn't seem too keen to talk to any of us earlier. Which… fair enough, but still.
"I mean… we do need to decide on a leader, right? No leader, no cohesion, no organisation. No organisation, and we'll be more likely to get our asses kicked by the arena. Or worse, outliers." Jimmy shrugs. "If that's the case, not it. Me and Lee talked about this yesterday, we don't want it."
No the hell we didn't? I open my mouth, but he elbows me in the back. I close it. He side-eyes me once, and I get it. Fine. I'll get him back for talking for me, but he's not wrong. If I suggested myself as the leader, that only puts more pressure and attention on me.
"Does anyone actually want to be the leader? It seems like an awful amount of work…" Aurelia looks between Flavian and the Ones. "I mean… I'm not sure I could take on a role like that…"
"Lucky enough for you, Bijou, you'll never have to. Because I think we all already know who the leader will be…"
"... I could-" Flavian moves to nominate himself, but it's too late.
"Me." The Ones speak in unison, before staring each other down. Yikes.
The rest of us split as soon as we could see the argument starting to brew. None of our business. I spent the rest of the time with Jimmy at the poolside. Cliche, I know, but neither of us are willing to be caught slacking if the arena is water-based. Though I guess swimming is basically slacking. We could both do three whole laps of that pool underwater with our eyes closed, breaths held and hands tied, so maybe it was just the familiarity.
Maybe it was making sure no one could outmatch me there. If someone followed me into the water… their funeral.
Through the afternoon, we kept hearing Paxton and Regina arguing, much louder than they thought they were. The daggers they're shooting each other, it's clearly not been resolved. I do wonder why Flavian didn't push for it though… then again he lone wolfed through most of the day. Maybe he's… but that wouldn't make any sense. Why would a volunteer look to split early on?
"Always good to have a full alliance. A healthy six. No more, no less." Most of the mentors have been ignoring us through eating and discussing sponsor splitting, as well as how to announce the alliance. Barry is no different. "We'll need to keep it that way, I don't like the look of all these outlier volunteers. It's… well."
He leans past Cordelia to the Two Victor.
It's quiet, but I read lips. Sometimes it felt like the only way Abigail and I could communicate at home.
"Smells like rebellion to me, Juno."
The other mentor nods his head, once.
"We've been keeping an eye on them." Regina pipes up from her staring contest with Paxton. Oddly eager to please. Far cry from her earlier attitude. "I doubt we'll have any problems."
"Oh, we've got problems, alright, 'Gina." Jimmy snickers, and I kick him under the table. Indignant, and after making a face at me, he continues. "The Twelves."
"They've been going around looking for allies." Probably my only contribution to the conversation all evening, besides some 'hellos' and 'thank yous' and 'pass the salt pleases'.
"There's my tributes. Always one step ahead, eh Cordie?" Barry nods and nudges my mentor, who, predictably, remains silent. "No complacency. Never stopping. You don't play stupid games with your allies, do you?"
It's in the way he says it, the way the rest of the table seems to bristle. This is why I didn't want to do this. Fuck talking, I'd rather be getting eviscerated.
"... Anyway." Social butterfly as he is, Jimmy breaks the tension. "I think this works well. Good range of weapons. Axes, swords, staffs, knives… and, of course, charm."
He quirks his eyebrows over at Aurelia and winks at her. Isn't he- oh, right. Odair angle. Got it. She rolls her eyes.
"Mm." The older One mentor coughs, covering a laugh. "Well, no alliance is perfect, but I do expect some results of you six. Then again… there's always someone who wants to mess up the best laid plans. What's the Bloodbath scheme?"
Let them fight through the outliers. Get as much as I can carry. Wait for the coast to clear, make sure Jimmy can cover for me. Dip. Don't look back. Even if you hear him get hurt.
Especially if you hear him get hurt.
… Hope he doesn't get hurt.
"We…" Paxton smooths his frown over quickly, it's pretty impressive. "Didn't actually get that far, ma'am. We wanted to scope out the general capabilities of the other tributes first."
Did we now? Every second if this dinner is just reinforcing how much better an idea it is to leave. Am I lying to them too? Yes. But this only justifies it. How can I trust those who lie at the drop of a hat when it was their decision to be here in the first place?
"Well, there's no better time than the present. Go to the lounge, tributes, the adults need to discuss some things. When you've figured out something for the Bloodbath, then come back and we can help you to smooth out any… wrinkles."
No one objects, so we all file out. Thank god. The other mentors were starting to give me the creeps. The fake smiles, the constant looking back and forth between them and their tributes, the little jibes. No thanks. Brings me right back to family dinner with Mom and Abigail, the calm before the storm.
We all go to sit on the couches and chairs. For a moment, an idea flashes my mind, to eavesdrop on the mentors. To find out what Barry meant. But I can't really do that without drawing attention. Maybe if someone else brings it up.
Everyone just looks at one another, unsure of where to start or really, where we stand. With Paxton and Reginas silent eyeballing still going on, it's unlikely they've come to any sort of consensus.
"Personally, I want the Twelves." Goddamnit Marsh, not the time for jokes.
"We all want the Twelves, salt-for-brains. Wait in line." Regina snaps almost immediately, but, hey, at least it got people talking. I can't exactly figure a way out if I don't know what the other four will be doing. Having to factor in the tributes from the outlier districts is already bad enough.
"He's got a point. Thank you, Jimmy." Paxton nods at him. "If anything, strategically, we should be going for any alliances or volunteers outside of our own."
The air seems to shift. Even Flavian is leaning forward like he wants to get involved, and for a girl so… demure… Aurelia seems pretty enthused about the concept too.
"Someone will need to secure the Cornucopia. Marsh, Layton, that should probably be you. Bijou, Bourne, you two should probably run distraction. As soon as the gongs go, start diving for the outliers. Cause panic." She gives us both a nasty grin. "You can handle that, right? Be a shame to get yourselves killed day one."
I knew she still wasn't happy about having us in the Pack. Lucky enough for her, I'll be gone.
"Shouldn't Flavian run distraction?" Aurelia pipes up, and it's like hell has frozen over. "I mean, he's the biggest, and his weapon choice is best for it. It's easiest to wound tributes for later, even if they make it out. They'll be more scared of him. Probably be better if I go in and get everyone stocked up. I'm much quicker than I look…"
She flushes suddenly over the rest of us staring. It's the first strategic thing she's said all day.
"I mean…" She withdraws back in on herself. "I'm really not sure I'm up to the task… sorry."
I squint at her. I know something's up here, I just can't put my finger on it. Even when we were training earlier. None of these people add up.
"Alrighty then, that puts me and Lee securing the 'copia." Jimmy and I lock eyes, and I fight away a grin. Right where we'll need to be.
"What will you two be doing?" I stay polite, I don't want to piss either of the Ones off.
"Killing Three."
"Taking out Twelve."
In complete tandem, as casually as ordering at a restaurant. I take a breath.
"What do you think they're talking about in there?"
"None of our business." Regina is firm, but her eyes betray her curiosity.
"They're our mentors…" Poke the bear. "Shouldn't everything be our business? We're the ones at risk."
"I wouldn't." Paxton warns, sitting down. "I don't know about you all but you couldn't pay me to risk getting caught snooping. Seen too many first years get their asses kicked for it."
"You know, she's right, 'gina. I know they want their 'adult time' or whatever but… if they're hiding something from us…" Ignoring the other One, Jimmy comes to stand next to me. "Would you rather we miss out on something important? This could be some sort of test… I mean… you're District One, you'd know all about those kinds of things."
And that has to ping something in her brain, because she starts walking back towards the door, left slightly ajar, ear pressed to the gap. Paxton doesn't follow, leaning back into his chair. He grins, smug but relaxed, and crosses his arms behind his head.
"Well, you can't say I didn't warn you." He shakes his head. "I've learned it's best to leave them to their own devices-" Muffled shouting travels from the other room. "-Case and point."
Jimmy stands just behind Regina, face equally scandalised by what he's hearing. I've only caught snippets so far, something about 'rebellion' and 'plants' and 'betrayal'. Doesn't take a genius to assume they're talking about the same thing I've been wondering about, the sheer number of volunteers. It stinks of some kind of plot. Like the attempt in the quarter quell.
I try not to think too hard about a different Panem. I mean… sure, small things. Like if Mom wasn't sick, if Abigail didn't have to take double shifts just to keep food on the table and my only way into the academy was a scholarship. But a Panem without the Games, with someone else in power… I don't like to give myself false hope. There's a reason that things are how they are and trying to change things has only ever ended in misery. The Dark Days are named as such for a reason. The first thing you learn in school is that the Games are the only thing keeping the country together, whether I like it or not. And even if I hadn't even been Reaped… a Peacekeeping salary won't retire Mom and Abi for life… Victordom will. And I wouldn't have picked it. But I am here now. I have to make the best of it.
And the biggest obstacles between me and home are the five people in this room with me. Because they'll be united, while me… I'll be alone. But this isn't a year of sacrificial lambs, that's been made quite clear.
Flavian will be the biggest issue, pacing around like a caged animal in the semi-silence. If anyone in this sham alliance knows what's good for them, they'll jump him as soon as the Games starts. As will the rest of the roster. Quiet people are dangerous. It fucking sucks being stuck against people who all have several years training advantage. Aurelia doesn't count. I can't be sure of anything in a fight against any of them, even Jimmy, and thats just another layer on this fucked up sponge cake of a situation. He's a weirdo, I'm never going to understand what really brought him here and he's loud and he's way too confident but that doesn't mean I want to kill him. As horrible as it sounds… I kinda hope his trust in these guys blows up in his face so that I don't have to fight him. Because a future where I don't win isn't even worth thinking about.
I'll make peace with it when it's done… I'm not about to go to war with myself when I'm destined for a war zone.
Hal Walker, District Three Tribute, he/him
Tribute bedroom, Floor Three
12:10 am, June 25th, HG 87
"Hal?" Cora pokes her head around the door, altered by either the shouting or that twintuition she used to talk about so much.
"Hey, Cee…" I make sure to keep the smile on my face, she can't know, not yet.
"Where have you been?" She pulls me into her arms, heads locked over shoulders and ribs crushed, same way we always did it. "We… I was so worried."
There's the kicker. I haven't seen her… any of them in months. At the beginning it wasn't for lack of want but because I didn't know if I could face them. Face him. Walked out the door and out their lives onto something better, something new. It's best if they think I've been thriving. And physically, I am. Never been healthier, never seen as much life.
"I know…" I bump my head against hers. "I just came by to wish you good luck at the Reapings… couldn't leave my little sister all alone, could I?"
"I'm literally the oldest, dick." She snickers. Completely ignoring that she doesn't need luck. They won't touch her. We never did know who the oldest was, but I think we've all claimed it at some point. Usually it just depended on who was winning the argument.
"Yeah, you keep telling yourself that-" She opens the door wider to let me inside, and I breathe better in the shade. "Where's Hertz-"
And there they are on the couch. Watching some random program on the TV, Ford's head in Edison's lap, the way we used to be. Both Ford's work boots and his regular shoes are in the hall, which only confirms my suspicions. Guess moving in got easier when he jumped ship. But god, it's almost worth it when Ford turns to me and his jaw drops. He looks almost ill, scrambles off of my triplet's lap to sit up ramrod straight, just like when I caught them. Ed barely even registers it. Hertz' telltale footsteps come thudding down the stairs, gait uneven. Deathly hungover. As usual. I've long since stopped asking… it's one of the few things I can understand about him.
Cora puts a hand on my shoulder as she guides me to the kitchen, insistent on at least getting me a drink while I'm here. It's already been such a hot summer, I must've had a growth spurt since I was last here, and can she get my new address to write?
There's all these little details. The cupboards are still set up the same way as they were before, the same way dad taught us how to do it, he's alive in the details. Cora hands me cocoa in his favourite mug, the one we four decorated for him on his last Father's Day. The wooden spoon on the pot on the stove, the trick he taught me when pasta kept boiling over.
But elsewhere, beyond Cora's awards and my brothers' messy laundry in the basket, Ford's influence looms large. His work schedule pinned on the cork board. A picture of him, Ed, and an older couple. The parents it was always 'too soon' for me to meet. The conversation I can hear from the other room, how he knows Hertz' favourite hangover meal and how he really should cut down.
And I'm forced to come to terms with the fact that we're just not each other's person any more. That even before I walked out for good, before I caught them… maybe it was never going to work.
I don't have to go through with this. I've paid off Peacekeepers to keep an eye out for any antsy kids in the crowd who might try to volunteer, but I don't have to. Some other kid can go, from some other broken family. If Dad was here, he'd talk me out of it. If Cora knew, she would too.
But Dad isn't here anymore, and this is for Cora, not to spite her. For me, for us to get our brothers back, to find those broken family pieces scattered across arenas and fix it. Walkers are inventors and scientists by nature. If this doesn't fix us… nothing will.
It's hard to sleep, it's hard to stay awake. My mind's too loud. I only noticed that recently, how often i get lost up there. The beds here are almost too plush, too comfortable. The same thing happened when Hertz first moved us all into his house in Victor's Village. For the first time, we kids all had separate rooms, but it still ended up a huddled pile in a pillow fort.
It puts me on edge. I've been doing my best to just rest my eyes, back turned to the door. Someone keeps opening it to check on me, every hour on the hour. Angela's door hasn't opened, I'd've heard it. She mustn't've figured out that if you mess with the controls you can soundproof your room, because I've heard her crying. I haven't bothered to. I'm more than used to silence and solitude.
Kelvin and I spoke earlier, my cousin oh-so-earnest as usual, ruffling my hair, as if it's just another day. He thinks my strengths are best used only for myself, that if I have to take someone's deal then I should cut them loose as soon as possible. He means well, and hell, he sounds like he believes in me… but it's easy to tell he has no idea what he's doing or saying. His words don't carry the same weight, the same certainty, as Ada's, Hertz', or hell, even Edison's do. But they've all told me that new victors have to mentor during their first year, so I'll take what I'm given, pray it's enough. He's seen us all at our worst, after all.
When Hertz was reaped, he and Auntie Margaret had us spend the whole three weeks at her house. We were all inconsolable, but she pulled it together. Turning away Dad's inventing rivals, kept us fed and clean when poor Dad was stuck in a fugue state and we were barely old enough to comprehend the danger. Kelvin was barely any older and yet that fountain of positivity never seemed to stop.
Then, again, Dad's funeral. By then, Hertz' victory had put us into Victor's village, but that didn't make it any easier. Again we were bundled to their house. All the legal paperwork, all the issues around the autopsy. The funeral. I can never seem to block it out.
Edison's games. I used to sneak out to see Kelvin, we'd go and smoke, cool as we thought we were. Shit talk my brother and the selfishness of going into the Games by choice after Hertz had expressly forbade it. And if me and Cora ever caught each other crying in his arms, well, neither of us ever spoke about it.
And then… Kelvin's Games. Reaped. Ed's victory had made it clear that the Capitol shouldn't touch me or Cora, that if they wanted to try anything funny it would only be thrown back in their faces. So they took Kelvin instead. Since Ed and Hertz were required at the Capitol, it was only me and Cora trying to look after Auntie Margaret, and every time she saw Kelvin in the games it damn near killed her. But we managed. And Kelvin came home. We were all safe, and alive, and close to happy and almost free.
But no one was ever the same after their trip to the Games… and no one made that more clear than Edison did.
I drop the paper cup in my hand, cocoa streaming down my skin, my clothes. Behind me, I can hear Cora's breath hitch in shock. The cup hits soft carpet. I can't even bring myself to express the pain of the burn.
Ford has his lips on Ed's neck, their hands all over each other as my boyfriend drops himself into my brother's lap like it's routine. And suddenly it makes sense. The amount that Ed purposefully walks in on me and Ford, the way they're closer to each other than Ed's ever been to one of our mutual friends.
It takes my brother damn near ripping the buttons off his shirt for either of them to notice.
Ed locks eyes with me, then with Cora, freezing to the spot. And Ford whispers something in his ear in that honeyed tone he only uses with me, noticing somethings wrong. He turns around too late because by then, I'm five strides into the room, staring down at them both. He jumps away, landing gracelessly against the other arm of the couch, like he's about to run, but there's nowhere to go.
"Ed, what the fuck?" Cora's rage has always been so much more vocal than mine or Ed's. Me and him have communicated with our fists since Hertz started training us. And given the glare, the clench of his hands, that might just be what'll happen next.
"Hal… I'm…" Ford can barely talk for breath, but I'm not looking at him.
"It was an accident, Hal… it just happened. You… you're never home." Edison knows how lame he sounds, laughing incredulously the way he does to fill silence with jokes. "And once I… we just couldn't help ourselves. We… we were drunk the first time. Celebrating me coming back."
But they're not drunk now. And nearly two years they've been sneaking around, and he has the gall to look shy.
"I'm sorry Hal… we didn't want you to find out this way. I wanted to break it off with you first but we… I love him." Ford tries to touch me, maybe a hand on an elbow, I don't know, I don't care.
I'm done. So I do seemingly the only thing I know how to do. I walk out.
As I go down the stairs, I can hear Cora tearing Ed a new one, footsteps behind me as Ford tries to follow me.
"Don't." I turn to him, unable to trust my voice above a whisper. "Just don't."
I carry on downwards, passing Hertz on the landing, face filled with confusion and flushed. Tipsy. Typical. I don't even take my coat or my keys, or close the door. I only go straight forward to the house opposite, where I can see Auntie Margaret cooking through the windows. For good measure, I give Edison's house a glare. He didn't even have the decency to do it in the house the Capitol gave him. No… it had to be Hertz' place, our house, Dad's house. I don't even know who my brother is anymore.
I knock and before I know it Kelvin's opened the door. He brings me into the hall, into his arms, and I can't do anything but cry.
He and auntie Margaret said I'd always have a place with them, but I couldn't bear to be that close to the others. Too accessible. Three's a big place, it's easy to disappear… I'd essentially been living in between that Wardenclyffe workshop and Ford's place since Ed's games… so when I walked out for good on our eighteenth… it was an easy choice.
I almost regret it. Before we came here… I'd almost forgotten what it was like having family around. Not the constant noise of discovering the affair, or the shattering silence of afterwards. Just the regular, domestic noise of a household with four kids and a cousin constantly visiting. Someone is always talking, or playing cards, or on the phone. Like when Dad was alive.
My door opens again, and I screw my eyes closed. But instead of it closing, soft footsteps approach. My bed dips slightly, as someone sits.
"Sometimes I wonder if it'd been best for me to die in there… you know?" Hertz. Voice lacking the usual slur. Sober? "It set off such a chain reaction. I never could be Dad. I tried… I hope you know that. I thought… I hoped I could keep you safe. I promised him I would… you know? When we found you three at the door. A gift. Three baby siblings, for me? Snow, I was the luckiest kid in the world."
It's soft, but I haven't heard him laugh properly for so long. He puts a hand on my shoulder, gentle. Nothing like after Dad died. When he used to have his nightmares, he'd come storming to our rooms, shake us awake, just to make sure we were still there, that we weren't gone too.
"He loved you, you know that right? All three, all equal. But you took after him best. Eccentric was his word but… creative always fit better. Intuitive. A mind unto himself. You understood him best. You wouldn't remember, but I do. He made a three-baby pram, fit for purpose, but you always cried unless you were in his carrier where you could see him. And I know…" And he's doing his deep mouth breaths thing just to get through the sentence. "He was so, so fucking proud of you and everything you did. And I was always so scared of losing any of you three… that the last bit of him would die too… but I still managed to fuck it up. I tell you both not to go to the games, you go. I tell you to stop fucking about with electricity, you keep on at it. I tell you to come home… and here we are."
I have to stifle my own crying. He pulls the covers over me tighter, ruffles my hair.
"I know you're awake, Hal. Good night. I love you. We all do. Don't… don't forget that, okay?"
What the fuck have I done?
Jimmy Marsh, District Four Tribute, he/him
Tribute bedroom, Floor Four
3:00am, June 25th
Another long night. I've been finding it hard to sleep ever since the train.
Maybe I'll ask about meds tomorrow, but I don't want to show weakness. Not in front of our victors, and definitely not in front of Lee. We need each other right now, pieces of home.
Maybe if I sneak into one of the Capitol Team's rooms I'll find something. They're all hopped up on who knows what all the time.
I can't do much to amuse myself. Work out? There's space, but that's all you really do in training. Watch out the window or fuck with the screens? I got bored of that on the first night.
Bug Lee? Could be a shout but… nah. I don't really wanna get caught wandering the tower at this time of night. Barry will kill me if he catches me out of bed. Structure and discipline are important. I can't fuck it up now. Sneaking onto the drink cart on the train was bad enough. Impulsive.
I'm distracted but I don't even know what I'm distracting myself from.
And when I do get sleep, I've been having weird dreams. Hence just waking up.
Coarse grains rub against my face. All I see is the sky… water lapping against my feet. The beach again? I'm… I'm home.
A hand on my chest.
"You fell asleep again. Thought I might keep you company."
Cal. He hoists me up like I weigh nothing, always did, puts my head in his lap so that I'm facing the sea. But I can't see his face. How did I get here?
I can't talk. Why can't I-
"Can't believe you'd just lose yourself out here again. We're having that dinner with the parents, remember?" Patient. Quiet. Like he knows how much my head hurts. "It's alright, there's still time to get ready. We can stay here a little while."
He spikes my hair up in random directions, humming quietly. I remember once, we were swapping stories. That's the lullaby his mom used to get him to sleep.
"Maggie swam round earlier. Planning the flowers, the venue, the clothes. And I know it's gonna be fine. You were worried but… I think we're ready, Jim."
One hand locks around mine, but I stay limp still. Why can't I see him?
"Nothing will really change of course but this… it feels right, doesn't it? And we'll always have here. The beach, the docks… nothing can take that away."
I look at the sun in the sky. Shouldn't it be high tide by now? Yet we're both dry. I think.
But the blue… it's not really the sky at all… it's water. And the realisation I can move- we're in a bubble? No, a dome.
"Like it? Happy anniversary, Jimmy."
High tide. Safe. Secure. I drift back off.
And as nice as it is to see Cal again, even in dreamland, Something about it just isn't letting my brain go back to resting.
Fuck it. If Barry catches me he catches me. For all I know every Career Victor is getting their asses kicked for fighting. They sent us back, no explanation. We'd had about ten seconds to get out of the way before him and Two's mentor went crashing through the door, fists flying.
Thank Snow the doors don't creak. Sneaking around with Cal leant itself to stealth, although there are likely cameras everywhere. Not like anyone but the security guys would know. By time any of it gets reviewed, I'll have won the games. And technically it's not against the rules. No one said shit about a curfew. No harm no foul.
No one in the lounge, no one in the kitchen. Nothing to do. Fuck it, I need air. The fire doors are locked, the windows aren't enough. Surely this place has to have a roof?
No movement in the elevator… at least there's little chance of getting caught. The buttons only go up to 12 but… there's no hurt in checking.
God, their view is so much better than ours. It's never this bright in Four, not even in the square. But somehow, it feels like home. Two sets of stars, above and below the horizon. There's so much movement and life here. No sleep, no rest, no respite.
I'd hate living here full time but it doesn't hurt to admire it while I can.
The doors open, and I don't hesitate to step out. What are the odds I run into anyone? Twelve's mentor's a notorious alcoholic and the most an escort is going to do is scold me. Snow forbid I run into their tributes, whatever would I do then?
"I've been doing this for thirty years, kids. Lemme let you in on something. Even before 74, 75, whatever, my advice stayed the same. You want easy blood, someone no one will miss? You take out Twelve. No one leaves there and comes back alive."
Barry always seems half-crazed when he's doing big lectures. All gestures and spitting. He's not so bad in smaller groups.
"But they're boring. Scrawny. You wanna pick at the soft underbelly of the outliers? You take Nine. Gateway to the other harvesting districts. The farmers tan, the rougher hands. Workers, but nowhere near the strength of a Seven lumberjack or Ten farmhand. Rarely the troublemakers that Eleven churns out. If you wanna split the outliers, be strategic, you take Nine. But if you wanna take out your anger, practise a little macabre, then it's Twelve you want. What's better, is you can let them get away. You can let them run. In earlier days, they could fake their way into the mines, and might have some meat on them. But now? Target practice. They can run, someone else will get them. I guarantee it."
A small voice pipes up from somewhere in the lower seats. A second, maybe third year. The firsts are too scared to talk to him.
"But… didn't Abernathy win a couple years before you? Like… in the Quarter Quell and everything."
He turns, smiling darkly.
"He did, yeah. Slipped through the cracks. And what has been happening to his tributes since then? Exactly. The best thing we ever did was convince those outliers that they were made weaker by sticking together."
Couple of weeds like those two couldn't take me blindfolded.
To the left of the elevators is a flight of stairs. I don't bother masking my footsteps. If anyone's lurking, maybe they'll think the place is haunted. Heh.
The concept of death wouldn't be so odd if we actually knew what came after. But I gotta admit being a ghost would be pretty cool. Get to spook all the new tributes… wait no they'd get a new tower. I'd get to scare any of the Capitolites that visit these places when the games are over. That works too and-
Who the fuck is that?
I've just come to a door, open just a sliver. There's rooftop access, and there's someone up here, just leaning on a railing. Letting out short, shaking gasps and sobs.
Oh. Twelve.
He doesn't even turn when I open the door further, and light spills out towards him. No instincts to be found.
"…Cassie?"
Oh cry me a fucking river, Twelve. She never even looks like she wants to touch him, and I know that from, what? A couple onscreen appearances and telling them both just how easy my staff glides through skin.
"If that would make you feel better, then sure."
I hear a vaguely audible 'shit' before he turns around, eyes wide. Coward. As if I'd do anything before the games. The rules are in place for a reason. No fighting beforehand. And a little weasel like him is likely to go running his mouth.
"What do you want?" Oooh, temper temper. Like watching a wet cat spit at you. "Didn't you get enough out of bullying us earlier? Get out."
"Nah." Well… might as well have some fun while I'm up here. See if I can get in his head. The others will appreciate the info and… well… I've never said I'm not a gossip. I kick the door shut and make a direct line towards him, and all the bravado melts away. Twelves always look so young, so scared, it's pathetic, really. His eyes dart around, searching. But I'll outpace this kid any day.
"Let me in on a secret here Twelve, just between me and you. What gives?" He flinches as I stop. Not too close. Maybe… three steps between us. Too much to lunge at him, really. But you'd think I had him caged in a corner.
"…" His jaw clenches. "None of your business."
"Maybe not. But, one volunteer to another..." I don't even try to fight the grin on my face. Comparing us is laughable. "You've gotta be a certain calibre of person to come here voluntarily. And… excuse the nosiness but I like to know what makes a person tick. Because you, my friend, don't make a lick of sense."
"What's there not to get?" He sneers. Stupid and ballsy, bad combination. He could at least humour me. "Or do you just wanna know more so you can kill us?"
"Oh please, Twelve, you think so lowly of me." I have to stoop to meet his eyes. "I don't exactly need to know anything to do that. And between you and I… you could do a lot worse than me targeting you. See, the others, they're not really as nice. I'm not a torture guy, too dramatic. Heck, I'd even let you and your girl pick who dies first of you-"
"If you even touch a hair-"
"Oh? You gonna stop me, Twelve? Do tell how the power of love will protect you from a blade through the throat. I'm giving you a chance to endear yourself… and as far as I've seen you're not doing a great job at it. I could do your memory some good. Eulogise you on my victory tour so your family can show their faces in public. If she dies first then maybe you failed but hey, you're Twelve. It'll be a miracle if neither of you die before reaching the Cornucopia."
"Don't threaten her."
"Or what?"
"I'll rip your head off your shoulders."
…
I can't help but laugh. Looks like someone pissed in his cereal.
"Got a lot more shit to say than earlier, huh. What, something happen? Go on, you can tell me. It'll be our secret."
It's like looking at a stray dog, biting and growling but with no real power. Begging for any kind of attention, driven by instinct alone. Living by fear.
"You're not the only ones who can… can use numbers, Four." Bless his heart, he's trying so hard. "You can't just come up here and threaten me. We outnumber you. All we have to do is exploit that."
Outlier alliances aren't new. But these guys wouldn't do it. I mean… six against a united eighteen means we're fucked, but the lovebirds couldn't drum that kind of support up. Not without us noticing… could they?
No. The little cave rat's just too big for his boots.
"Get over yourself. Outliers like you, think all of Panem should just revolve around you. Throwing yourself a pity party. What's the point? And besides, let's be honest with each other. This isn't your game to win. Just rehashing the same plotline, recycled, almost makes me think you're one of those plants the nutjobs talk about. But no… you don't even know what the rules are, let alone how to play."
"I'm stronger than you think, Four. It's happened before, it can happen again. It's your game to lose."
The door creaks again. Light floods towards us both. I don't bother attempting to hide, I'm not a small guy, and I don't have to scatter every time someone looks at me.
"Jet? Are you…" She's ashen and grey. The Capitol hasn't been serving the other Twelve well. Not surprised. "What the fuck are you doing here."
"It's public property, sweetheart. I can go where I like. But I wouldn't want to stop you lovebirds from seeing each other." My walk is slow, predatory. The kind of thing you spend hours perfecting just to see the fear in your opponents eyes.
"Don't let me catch you up here again." The bravado almost masks the yawning. Well, good to know I'm not the only one who's had trouble sleeping.
"Don't worry, Twelve. You won't catch me." I slip past her, and she turns as I do. Never showing her back. Well, at least sometimes they have their heads on straight. "Oh, and… Jet, was it?"
"Leave, Four."
"Game on."
It's a petty thing, I confess. But fast forward a couple weeks, and they'll both be dead. Fast forward a couple years, and this will all be another distant dream.
AN: uhhhhh insert joke here. enjoy the chapter
Also ill probably start crossposting to ao3 when I get that started idk I'll keep you posted most of you are in Verses anyway.
Next chapter's training day 2. Be safe drink water etc.
