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Flashback

Sometimes, when the action is slow, all of the tributes doing a mix of hiding and sleeping, all of which equaling poor television, they will show 'where are they now' segments of past victors. Short segments about their lives back at home, what they've done since winning. Of course, the shots of nice houses in victor's village aren't the exciting part: the exciting part is the clip show of that victor's games to get them back into everyone's head. It all boils down to their 'strongest moments'. Which basically means all of their kills.

His stomach twisted around when he realized that it was his turn to be featured. If he'd been alone, or just with Brooke he would have walked away and not even flinched. It was easy to just compartmentalize that part of himself and walk away from it. However it wasn't so easy to do that when he was in a crowded room, full of other mentors and potential sponsors he was supposed to be impressing for the sake of the tributes from his district. He flinched when he saw his own arena, a dusty desert. They'd kept everyone together by their only being one source of water: the oasis. It'd been full of mutts- he'd seen another get killed by a rattlesnake mutt with two heads. Of course he hadn't tried to help her.

The remaining three deaths were different. The first kill, at the bloodbath, he'd nearly hacked a girl's head off with a hatchet, which had been resting near his platform. He hadn't liked the weapon enough to go after it, not when he'd seen the dagger he'd use for the rest of the competition on the ground. The last kill had ended up being hand to hand- a boy from one of the poorer districts had managed to knock the blade away from him. Bobby had shoved him underwater at the oasis and drowned him. He'd barely survived it himself, half drowned.

It was the boy from one, Lucite, that had gone wrong. His second to last kill. He'd realized that Bobby couldn't be trusted early on and the career pack had broke apart. By that point they'd both been starved and sleep deprived. When they'd happened upon each other, Bobby was actually on the losing end of the fight and for a second he'd thought that this was it, he was going to die. That was when all of the anger at the situation he'd found himself in had boiled up and he didn't just kill the other boy, he'd torn him apart, even after he was dead. It was when the screen showed the look in his eye, cold and wild that Bobby's stomach turned. He watched the image of himself, covered in blood. He'd been told that the Gamemakers had been just about to sedate him to get the body away from him. Kills were exciting to the Capitol audiences. Mutilating a corpse was unsettling. Luckily, something in Bobby had switched back on and he'd wondered back to the Oasis to clean himself off.

In the present he just pushed off from the couch he'd been sitting on next to Brooke, quietly excusing himself. He walked straight to the restroom and got sick. Everyone had horrible memories of the Games. He'd held Brooke in the middle of the night as her dreams turned to nightmarish flashbacks. However most people didn't choose to go into the Games. He had, he'd volunteered. He'd known exactly what it would mean, too. Killing- and not even people his own age. He was seventeen. There had been twelve year olds in the arena, there always were. He'd killed one of them without even thinking about it. He didn't have the excuse of being reaped and then fighting to survive. He'd gone in like it was a game. He was pretty sure it had stayed a game to him until Lucite had died. That included killing a girl that he'd gone to school with his whole life up to that point.

When there was nothing left in his stomach he stood up, splashing water at his face to try and shake it off. He was fine- great- when he didn't think about it. It was when he stopped and thought about exactly what sort of person that he was that things went off in his head. It wasn't the arena or the Gamemakers he was afraid of, it was himself.

He heard a knock on the door. Brooke. "Hey, it's just me... are you all right?" she asked through the door.

"Fine, be out in just a second."

"Do you need anything?"

He needed to not think and to not have his past shoved in his face. "Can you get me a drink, babe? Something with alcohol in it... nothing fruit flavored or anything." It'd help steel himself at least. He knew some people who went into the arena got hooked on things- alcohol, morphling. He'd never messed with morphling at all and alcohol only socially... however this was a social event and he desperately needed to not think.

He took a deep breath, looked at himself in the mirror and made himself smile. Yes, he could go back to pretending to be normal and like nothing was bothering him at all. He'd smile and return to his fiancee's side, graciously accept whatever sort of drink she'd gotten him, talk with sponsors, keep a close eyes on the kids. That was what he had to do.

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Thunder

He was not opposed to going south with his lord father to pay a visit to Storm's End. His father's wife barely tolerated him as it was, and when his father was away... well, when his father was away, he did a good job of staying out of the way. However he felt incredibly out of place; probably because he had gotten into a fight with one of the younger Baratheon boys after hearing the term "baseborn" not even sure if it was in reference to himself. He hadn't minded being punished- he'd gotten the better of him. Besides, it was sweltering- or at least it seemed to be to him, never having been this far south before.

However that didn't mean that when he wasn't paying attention the wolf didn't wander a bit- wander right over to a girl his age, walking in the shade of a nearby tree. There was no startled yelp from her- just a mild bark from the wolf, probably to get attention-his. "He won't bite you," he called out as he walked over toward her. "He only bites when threatened. Or I am- careful!" She'd reached out toward him. He knew his pet wouldn't hurt someone unprovoked, but was still nervous if someone went near his mouth.

"I wasn't worried he would," she said. She examined the wolf, holding her hand out to let him sniff it before calmly reaching over to scratch his chest. He swore the animal gave him a smug look as the girl with soft looking brown hair and pretty blue eyes fawned over him. He recognized her. One of the Baratheon girls, Brooklyn.

"He likes you," he said as he knelt down beside her, scratching the wolf behind the ears- the dog promptly nipped at him, then turned back to her, licking her hand. "Watch it, mutt."

"Be nice to him!"

"I gave him my last scrap of meat at dinner last night."

"I know," she said before realizing what had come out of her mouth. "I mean, he's a large animal, he's probably getting more table scraps than most."

"You've been watching me?"

"Hush, Robert Snow, you don't accuse a lady. Your pet has better manners than you do. What's his name?"

"Doesn't have one, yet- he's still only a puppy, a few months old. Nothing seems to suit him. He'll grow into something."

She finally did look surprised. "You mean he's going to get even bigger?" she asked, surprised. "I always thought the stories about direwolves were exaggerations. They were really just a little bulkier than normal wolves or something." He was just pleased to have impressed her with something.

"No, he's going to get bigger and fast."

"I wish I could see what he looks like fully grown."

He shrugged. "Maybe you can? Come up North- make your father return our visit. Then you could see what cold actually feels like- does it even snow down here?"

"I don't think my father would want to make a trip just so I can see a fully grown direwolf and some snow." She looked over at him. "Though you never know?" She gave the wolf a last scratch behind the ears before standing. "Name him, and make sure it's a good one. Fluffy won't do."

Little did either of them know that less than a year later, Brooklyn and her father would be making a trip to Winterfell and he would leave without her- she and Robert would be married. The direwolf would eventually be named Thunder, an allusion to her birthplace and would always prefer her to his master.

[gonnaneedacandle-blog]

Like Breathing

It had started out simply enough. She'd done the laundry- the muggle way, insisting it got things cleaner, but mostly just wanting something to do with her hands. Once everything was clean and dry, she'd set to reorganizing the wardrobe, rather than just hanging their clothing back up. Except halfway through she'd gotten anxious- apparently organizing clothing by type of garment wasn't enough. So she'd split things by color, only to discover that some of their colder weather things were still mixed in, which they wouldn't need for a few more months, so they could really be put away back into storage in the attic.

It was her sister. Or rather, it wasn't her sister because her sister was dead and there wasn't a damn thing Ciara could do about that. But then she kept having thoughts, like wondering what her sister would think of something- should she chance decorating the baby's nursery in blue, because she had a gut feeling it was a boy, but Bran wanted to be surprised so they didn't know for sure or not? Could they convince Mum to move in with her? In the guise of Ciara wanting help with the little one, but really because she didn't like her mother living alone and the inherited farm was so much more comfortable than living with her cousins.

Except she couldn't do that, and Ciara was never going to shake the feeling that it was her fault. And now she got to have the sweet husband and soon would have a baby and the happy little life that she had wanted- but all without her sister. They had been inseparable for 23 years. And now Ciara was going to have to go the rest of her life without her other half. She wasn't totally convinced she could do it.

So she just cried. And cleaned, tears still flowing even once she pulled herself back to her feet and put the closet back together. And then she was back on the floor, trying to decide on an organizational system for the bookcase- she'd gotten half through with alphabetical by title and decided it looked too halphazard, somehow, and was now trying to see if it looked better done by author, and she just got so annoyed with herself that she ended up tossing a book at the wall, with a satisfying bang.

A bang that got her husband's attention, and lead to him coming up to the bedroom- she hadn't even realized he was in the house. "Ci?" he asked, cautiously from the doorway- probably trying to figure out if this was normal!pregnancy tears, a normal Ciara organizational boom, or something worse.

"I was cleaning..." she said, almost numb. She slid another book onto the shelf. "I don't know what happened," she said, voice oddly hollow. Something worse it was, then.

He didn't push it, instead sitting down behind her in front of the bookcase. He gently coaxed her to lean back against his chest and she felt like she was capable of breathing, again. "I miss her so much," she said, tears coming back and filling in the hollowness of her voice, making it sound thick.

"I know, I miss her, too," he told her, leaning so he could kiss her cheek. "Do you want to talk about it?" She didn't answer him right away, trying to figure out if there was anything to even say. She didn't want to keep things from him. She wanted to accept whatever help he could give her, but even now she didn't know how. "So how are we doing the books, this time? Author?" he asked, looking at the shelf. She just nodded, folding her hands in her lap. He kept her in his arms while he organized the books by her system, carefully to ensure that things were up to her standard of precision. 

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Summer Teaser

The last two birthdays he had celebrated had all three occurred in the car, him staring at the dashboard as the numbers slowly ticked over and midnight struck. This one was no different in that regard- they were at a point where they were low on cash and would probably be sleeping in the car until they did something about that fact. It didn't bother him any- he kind of liked being able to see the sky as he was trying to fall asleep and the night was clear. "Happy birthday," his brother said at 12:02 when he glanced over at the clock.

"Thanks," he said, looking out the window at the scenery going by. They always just sort of went wherever the road took them, carefully avoiding any place they had ever previously been. He imagined that it would get harder as time went on, but after three years they were still doing fine. There had been close calls, sure, but never anything terrible. "Sooo..."

"Why do you think I want something?"

"Because it's your birthday."

He gave up evasiveness and shrugged. "Okay, so I do want something- can I drive? Since I'm sixteen, now?"

Jack just gave him a look. "You don't have your license and it's not like I can take you to the bureau of motor vehicles so you can take the test."

"What does it matter whether I have a license or not? If we get pulled over, I think me driving without a license would be the very last thing they worried about." It wasn't really something to joke about. If they got pulled over, Jack would end up going straight to jail and be there for a very long time. Bobby didn't know what would happen to him, exactly- at first, he probably would have been sent back to his parents, though when they had left, Bobby had promised himself that he would just tell them what happened so he wouldn't have to go back and maybe they would realize Jack wasn't hurting anything by taking him. Considering the fact that they had gotten very, very good at robbery, well, he was pretty sure he'd end up in prison, too.

"But you don't know how to drive."

"Well, teach me."

"Go to sleep."

"You know, if you taught me to drive, I could keep driving to wherever we're going and you could sleep."

"Shut up."

[gonnaneedacandle-blog]

Unsinkable

They weren't wealthy, not doing poorly but not wealthy. He knew the two second class tickets to travel were extravagant and more than they could really afford for their honeymoon, but he wanted it for her, anyway. Better to spend the money now than regret it, later, right? It had been his thinking even if his father had said it would be a waste of money. If they enjoyed it, it was worth it, right? Besides, it did have some practicality. He'd gotten a job in America, to start just three weeks after their wedding date.

And enjoy it they did- neither of them had ever sailed before, and although it wasn't quite the finery of the first class cabins, it was still more luxury than they enjoyed in their day to day lives. All seemed well until the fourth evening when there were odd vibrations and then a jolt. Curiosity getting the better of them (and seemingly everyone else on the ship), they went above deck to see what the commotion was about.

He shrugged, relaxed. "Of course, just some ice. This kind of thing has to happen all the time. Do you want to go back below?" he asked, his arm tightening around her shoulders in an attempt to keep her warm.

She shook her head, a bit of dark hair tossing over her shoulder. "No, let's stay up here, I want to see what happens."

"You'll tell me if you're cold?" he asked, and she nodded, nuzzling into his shoulder. He could tell she was uneasy, but they continued to attempt to relax, looking out at the night and listening to the band- surely it couldn't be so bad if the band was playing?

He felt a twinge of anxiety when they started to hear the orders that all passengers were to report on deck to board lifeboats- but this was still fine, surely. That was what they had lifeboats for, in case of emergencies. Just because they needed to use them didn't mean anything dreadful was happening. However at the approach, when he heard the 'women and children first', slight panic started to set in. Why should it matter who boarded first if there were enough boats? He didn't let that affect him though, outwardly. "Go on, I'll get on one of the later boats," he promised her. His eyes briefly flicked up to meet the crewman's who was organizing the passengers onto boats. He knew from the look in his eyes that there would be no later boat for him. He just prayed she didn't realize that.

"No, I don't want to be separated from you."

"Honey, please? We'll be together again when another boat picks us up. We'll be in New York within another few days- just get on this boat, now."

She shook her head. He had half a mind to try and pick her up and put her in the boat, but she would never stay calm then and the crew was already helping other people onto the boat. There was no way they would help him when there were plenty of others willing to get on without a fight. He tried to keep his voice even as he said, "Okay then, let's get out of the way and wait for them to start letting men on the lifeboats?" he suggested.

Except that never happened, as he'd feared it never would. The sound of iron bending in the air. Screams. Some men got on through force, and again he tried to convince her to get on one of the last, rapidly filling lifeboats. "No," she insisted again. "I just married you, I'm not going to be separated from you, now."

That time he did not try and suggest that they would not be separated if she got onto a life boat. "Let's go listen to the band, then?" he suggested, and she had the ghost of a smile on her face and they both knew.

He pointed toward a couple of the abandoned deck chairs nearby, sitting down, pulling her into his arms. "Are you cold?"

"A little," she admitted and he pulled his jacket off to put it around her shoulders. "You're going to freeze," she said, quietly.

"Doesn't matter," he insisted, running one of his hands lightly over her back. "I love you," he said.

"I love you, too," she said, tilting her chin up to kiss him, one of her hands reaching for his. She rested her head against his shoulder and they stayed like that, quietly, everything they needed to say to one another already having been said.

[gonnaneedacandle-blog]

More

His eyes opened when he felt someone shaking his shoulders roughly. "Damn it, Bobby- you didn't even wake up when I opened your door? You can't sleep that deeply when you're in there or you're going to go without even a chance to put up a fight."

He woke up more at that, sitting up in bed and looking at his older brother as he realized where he was and the fuzzy dream place faded off. "Sorry, I didn't realize that we were already in the arena," he said, a little cranky at having been woken on the last day of luxury he was going to have until he got back. He guessed he was supposed to consider the fact that it was possibly the last time he'd ever sleep in a bed, but he didn't see what thinking like that was going to do him.

"Born ready."

"Don't be an idiot, you realize what you're doing, right?"

Bobby almost didn't understand the question. He'd been fed the Career Tribute thing his whole life. This was what you worked toward. One day it would be your turn and you'd bring home a whole bunch of glory home. And so many times he had heard an instructor telling him to aspire to be like his brother and repat the success Jack had im the arena. "Of course I do," was all he ended up saying.

"You've got to win. You've got to go in there and win, I don't care what you have to do to do it." Of course Bobby realized this was important, but he was still a little surprised by the urgency in his brother's voice.

"I will," he said calmly. "I wouldn't have volunteered if I didn't plan to win."

"I still can't believe you volunteered."

"Of course I did, I wanted to since I saw you win."

"Don't you dare say that." Very quickly, Jack swung at him, but Bobby was able to catch his hand before it collided with his cheek and pushed his brother back onto the bed. The two of them just looked at each other for a second, both surprised. At one point, Bobby hadn't been able to even consider being able to keep up with his brother physically. But wasn't this a good thing? That he was ready for this? Why didn't Jack want him to do it? Not that what his brother wanted for him mattered anymore. "Good then," Jack said, but his voice seemed wary. "Your reflexes don't completely suck."

"I'm going to win."

"You'd better- if you don't, you're not giong to be the one seeing your parents' faces." For a second Bobby thought his brother was going to say more but it didn't come right away. Then it was just, "Get some sleep then, and eat as much as you can in the morning, because you don't know when the next time you're going to get to do either is." And Jack just got up then, and Bobby wondered if his brother was going to sleep.

"Okay.... Love you."

Jack turned back toward him, pressed his lips together and again seemed like he wanted to say something more. "Love you, too."

[gonnaneedacandle-blog]

Wrong- AU

He’d made it clear that he didn’t ever want kids and that the just-barely level of commitment they’d briefly had was the absolute furthest he wanted a relationship to go. So when she’d realized she was pregnant a few weeks after breaking things off with him, she hadn’t asked for help. Part of her had wanted to tell him, at least. He’d said he didn’t want kids, but maybe he’d still want to be involved? And she didn’t want to keep her kid away from his father, didn’t want to prevent Jack from seeing his child. But enough of her was afraid that he wouldn’t take it well. She didn’t want to totally ruin her mostly positive memory of him by him not wanting anything to do with his child. And she’d rather her baby just not know his or her father rather than be rejected by him.

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Guilt

In the training academy, there was a small train. He guessed it was a little generous to call it that, it was just to get from one end of it to the other. The actual training center on one end, the school on the other. Bobby had never spent much time in the school. It was for the ones who proved young that they had no business volunteering to be a Tribute. He'd always thought they were weak, although he knew that was harsh. Not everyone could be a Tribute, anyway. Others were needed to keep the District going. They were never the kids anyone talked about, though, or at least it had never seemed like it to him.

Compared to the train to the Capitol, the academy train was wort of a joke. This might have intimidated him, maybe that he wasn't as impressive as he thought he was, either, if he was the sort of person it was possible to intimidate. Instead he just looked out the window, eyes shining with excitement. He was the model Tribute. Healthy and strong, and good to look at, too. Their stylists would have no trouble with trying to sell him and their mentor- his older brother (and the reason he had so wanted to compete, after seeing him win; Jack had punched him in the face after he had told him that)'s only advise had been to not be an idiot.

"Are you going to talk?" the girl, Hannah, finally said. "Because otherwise this is going to be a very long ride."

"Something to talk about?"

"Strategy?"

He rolled his eyes. "I've been thinking about strategy since I was a kid."

Her voice, completely deadpan. "Oh. I must be so behind, then. I've never put any thought into strategy until this I got into this train car. I suppose I should have before now, considering I volunteered before you did."

He grinned. "What did you have in mind, then?"

"Well, obviously we aren't both winning, however I can't help but think our chances would be improved if we at least waited on actively attempting to kill each other."

His eyes flicked over to her. Cocky smile. "You are a worthy adversary." The words sounded so stiff it sounded like a joke as it passed from his lips. "I'm not into the whole team work thing- seems a stupid way to go about it, but how about this? Until the final four or so, we don't kill each other?"

She looks at him- he guessed to determine if he was lying. "All right. We can work together until the final four. Then we split up, give it a few hours, then we're fair game to each other."

"Sounds fair. Better that someone from our District won than anyone else, right?" he said as if he wasn't talking about one of their deaths. Like he was discussing some sports strategy. He sort of was, for him the game was sort of some massive sporting event.

"Right."

--

First night, after the Bloodbath. The only ones confident enough to sleep were the volunteer tributes. Himself, Hannah, the others, arranged in a little circle guarding their supplies, daring anyone to come near. It would be suicide. He laid down, flat out lounging on the grassy ground, a hatchet resting on the ground by his feet, his pack filled with knives and a canteen beside his head. He rolled over to glance at Hannah, wondering if she was actually going to sleep or not. "You're going to impale yourself if you try to sleep with that knife in your hand."

"Better than someone else trying to impale me."

He rolled over so he was facing her. "No one is going to hurt you while you sleep. Relax." A bright smile, he knows the cameras are on them. He pictured Capitol girls swooning at the line. He wonders how they were selling them on television. He'd flirted with just about every girl he'd come across since the reaping, Hannah included (actually, that wasn't a whole truth, he'd flirted with just about every girl he'd come across since his twelfth birthday). Did the camera catch that? "No one is going to try and kill you while you're right next to me."

She puts the blade down by her feet where she doesn't risk stabbing herself in the stomach with it, should she roll over in her sleep, but he's not sure she ever actually shuts her eyes. He does, and wakes up, sure enough, the next morning to the bright sun.

--

It's done on an impulse while her back is turned. "What happened to final four?" she asks with the gasping breath.

"You're actually competition. I couldn't let you get that far." The words aren't rough or taunting, he's actually just explaining his own actions. He pulls the hatchet out of her back and helps her roll over onto her back into as comfortable position as she could be in, when he's basically positive he punctured one of her lungs.

"Finish it," she says, almost as if she's not referring to her own life. He grabs one of the knives from his pack and slits her throat, blood spurting at him. She spazmed and then lay still. It was the only kill he felt guilty for, of all eleven of them. Just under half of the other tributes died at his hand. Her death was the one that made him realize he had to win, because he wouldn't let her blood be on his hands for nothing.

[gonnaneedacandle-blog]

Sleep

He didn't know what they were really doing anymore. During the Games, he had just been so focused on getting her out of their alive. He hadn't let himself think about why that might be. It was just something he would deal with, if he actually got the chance to deal with it. And he had.

Once she had won, he'd focused on just getting her back to their District in one piece. The camera had cut away from the close up just before she'd won, when she'd started screaming- you didn't know she was unless you were paying attention to her emotions, not just her actions. They said the silence had been to intensify the excitement of the moment, and the long shot was because they knew it would be the last few shots of that year's arena and they wanted to show it off. Not to hide their victor's screaming and sobbing. When they won instead of staying on her, they'd cut away to show film of her triumphs- basically each of her kills, some shots of her running, and some more glamorous things that had been filmed before she had gone into the arena, like her in her interview dress. All in a big montage with soundbites extolling her virtues-including a couple from him, ugh. They hadn't shown her screaming, half mad until they'd gotten her into the hovercraft to sedate her.

The complication was that they'd kissed, once, on her doorstep. It had been a week. That kiss had lead to more, and they hadn't talked about any of it. Every day since then, they'd spent at least the evening together, if not the rest of the day- but he had gone home after dinner. They had not spoken of it, or what it meant. That the two of them would be used against each other if anyone knew what they were doing. What they could do, what they had the potential to do. That when he'd held her after she had been released from the hospital, the idea of marrying her had popped into his head. That kissing her had made him think about raising children with her. He knew that he'd never do that. He'd learned the hard way that being linked to a Victor was dangerous. Even if the Capitol loved the two of them together and used it as propaganda, they could still be used against each other. And any children born to them would be little pieces or propaganda that could be used to control them, and thrown into the Arena.

So they couldn't have that, but maybe they could have some secret something. But even putting her at risk scared him, so he was trying to just get out the door after dinner as quickly as he could. But something in her face stopped him, and he had to ask "You alright, Brooklyn?" as he was reaching for his jacket.

She shrugged, and her face is almost open. More open than it probably would be to anyone else. "I don't think I've slept much the last few nights." And he realized she really meant that she hadn't slept at all.

"Want me to stay?" he asked, before quickly tacking on, "I could sleep on the floor or something." He doesn't want to force himself on her. But even more than that, he doesn't want to link them so much, because that could only mean danger and he isn't sure he has the heart to put her in any more danger than she already has been.

Something in her face half looks relieved but then falls again, but all she says is, "Okay, there's an armchair in my bedroom."

So they go to bed. She changes, and curls up under her blankets after tossing a pillow and an extra blanket at him. They say goodnight and there's nothing much after that, and he's relieved when her breathing goes slow and she stops shifting around in the bed so much. He's pretty sure he nods off, too, because he suddenly woke up when he heard her scream. His eyes are open and he's on his feet in an instant in which he didn't quite know where he was. The reaction had been born of his time in the arena and screaming meant death. But there was no danger in the room, just in her head. And he realizes exacly why she's looked so tired.

He grabbed her shoulder, giving her a gentle shake. "Brooklyn?" He wasn't so sure that you were actually supposed to wake people from dreams, but it seemed cruel to not pull her out of whatever dream that was tormenting her. She doesn't seem to recognize him at first and he wonders what she sees. Some other Tribute in the middle of the night, waking her with a knife to her throat so he can kill her?

He couldn't judge. He'd done that sort of thing. He killed his own district partner, stabbing her in the back. He realizes his district partner could have easily been Brooklyn. He was just about a year older. If they had gone in the same year, he would have killed her- or even if he didn't, he wouldn't have stopped someone else from doing it. He shouldn't be the one she looked to for safety, but her eyes change once she realizes where she is- in her bedroom, at home. And she stops screaming and does seem to breathe.

And then he slips into bed with her, and whispers, "I'm right here," and lets her curl up against his chest, gently rubbing her back until she's calm again. He doesn't ask if she wants to talk about it, because he already knows it was some hellish Arena flashback. He just presses a kiss against the top of her head and eventually they do both falll asleep like that and there are no more nightmares.

[gonnaneedacandle-blog]

This borrows something from the film that wasn't in the novel, although I would hardly call it a spoiler. But anyway, enjoy!

In some ways this was worse than going in yourself. He knew that while Brooklyn's life was in her own hands and she was capable, a lot of her likelihood of survival was dependent on her chances of getting sponsors to get her help when she needed it. An infected wound could be treated with medication. Dying of thirst and a sponsor could send water. And a lot of a tribute's ability to get that was based on how well their mentor was able to talk them up so people were willing to spend money on them to help them win. 

But was it really a mistake? If it was making him so much more determined to save her life? He just wasn't allowed to think of what her living would mean. It would mean nothing- District 1 had another Victor, she would go about her life and so would he. That was all. Well, not that the life of a Victor was ever simple or involved any freedom. Maybe he was just bitter with his own life. 

That all didn't matter then- then he just stared at the screens and kept a close on where she was and how she was doing, panicking at every close call and wincing at every cut and scrape she got- which was sort of ridiculous because in The Hunger Games, a scrape was a non-issue. Still, when one of the sponsors offered to send the girl a bit of water- pleased with how strong the girl was, after her interviews prior to the games had mostly emphasized her beauty- Bobby had jumped on it to send to her. He just hoped that it didn't mean that if she got injured, people wouldn't be less likely to send her medication, saying they had already spent their money.

No matter, because he was mostly just pleased to see her face and that she actually half-smiled when she caught the little parachute and read the note he'd tucked in with it, 'Just four more, keep your head up. I'll see you soon.'

[gonnaneedacandle-blog]

Suffering

She had never had the same fear of the Hunger Games as most adolescents in Panem. May the odds be ever in your favor- they were in hers. Yes, her name went into the drawing just like everyone else’s, but she was the daughter of the mayor of the wealthiest district in Panem. Her name had gone in the bare minimum, she’d never needed to apply for tessera to keep her family from starving. Besides that, her district was known for volunteers. There was a good chance that if, against all odds, her name was chosen, another girl would step up, anyway.

In her lack of concern for her own affairs was when it happened- something she had stupidly not even considered as a possibility because to her it wasn’t a possibility. Losing him wasn’t a possibility. He’d never volunteer himself for it..

But then Jack’s name got pulled from the drawing and she realized that even though she didn’t anticipate ever having to go into the areana didn’t mean the Games wouldn’t burn her, too. And although she prayed for it, there was no boy willing to step into the arena voluntarily that year, either losing their nerve or thinking that maybe it would be better to wait for another year so they would be stronger.

She cried. Of course she cried. She cried every single day for weeks and refused to move away from the screens. She barely slept and lost ten pounds because she just didn’t have the apetite to eat anything. Her mother told her she was being silly to allow herself to sink into a depression over a boy who was doing something that could bring pride to District 1. However Emmaleigh just wished it was another boy, not the boyfriend who always seemed so strong and protective and was meant to just be there with her. Everyone at school gave her a wide berth and she didn’t walk to anyone.

And then she managed to get him back, against all odds, all over again. But this wasn’t the same boy as the one who’d left and when the disease that the radiation from the arena he’d been in finally cost him his life early, it was all too clear that the ones who suffered weren’t just then ones who lost their life in the arena.

[gonnaneedacandle-blog]

It was always something, it seemed. Since he'd been sixteen years old, the Capitol had owned him. Well, his whole life, really. He just hadn't realized it until he'd actually been in the Games. He still hated the fact that he'd actually been stupid enough to be a volunteer tribute. So really, it was his entire life, since he'd been a kid and bought the propaganda that winning the Hunger Games was the greatest glory you could attain. No, it was the thing that had ruined his life. Even though he'd lived, even if he was far from one of the most broken souls to exit the arena- it had ruined his life and refused to let him go. Sometimes he wondered if it would have been better if he'd lost, even though he knew that meant death.

He hated going to the Capitol. It didn't seem so terrible when he was allowed to just stay in his nice house in District 1 and not talk to anyone but Brooklyn for days. Then he could pretend that things were normal. It wasn't so bad when he laid in bed with her at night. It was just the other sixteen or so hours of the day when he was forced to face the world. Or at least himself. That was pretty hard some days. He didn't let her see that, though. He knew that the Brooke that had gone into the arena wasn't quite the same girl that had come out. It worried him a little.

"No," he said gruffly when they tried to tell him that it wasn't stopping, it was going to continue. It wasn't uncommon for basically every time he went into the Capitol he'd be forced to entertain the Capitol residents who paid for it. "I'm not going to do it, what are you going to do?" he asked, bitterly. His mother was already dead. His sisters. His father. All accidents, poorly timed illnesses. At least, that was the official story, he knew better. It always had happened when there was something they wanted him to do. "Kill me, this time?"

"Don't be stupid," the Capitol official said- oh, so there was no smoke and mirrors, no one pretending they didn't know what was going on. Good, he liked that better than when everyone pretended that none of this was happening. "You're worth more to us alive than dead... but hmm, an accident of sorts, wouldn't that be a pity?"

"To me? No, go for it." He wasn't quite sure if he was bluffing or not. He didn't think he wanted to know.

The official rolled his eyes, like Bobby was the dullest creature in Panem. "No, but maybe something to the girl."

"What girl?" But that time there was a slight tremor in his voice, losing the detached nonchalance.

A smile. It made him feel sick. "Your tribute, the one you mentored, who you stay so close to all of the time." Not for the first time, Bobby wondered if there was a wire or something in his house that led straight to the Capitol. It gave him a sense of dread, and clearly the damage was already being done. "What if something happened to Brooklyn, that would bother you, wouldn't it?"

And they knew. They knew the two of them were involved. They knew she was important to him and they were willing to use that against him. And he knew it would work. It was probably terrible, but he had been defiant enough while his parents had been killed. He wasn't willing to risk her. He would do what they wanted him to to ensure her safety. He hated it. "Fine. Give me the names and where I'm supposed to meet them, or are they coming to me?"

[gonnaneedacandle-blog]

Secret

Almost every night, like clockwork. He knew she always just had nightmares, and it always seemed like in the middle of the night, they'd get to be too much for her and she'd stir, kicking and thrashing a bit in her sleep, frantic mumbled words and watered down screams. He knew you weren't supposed to wake someone from sleep walking. Was this sort of the same thing? At first he'd considered letting her wait it out- if he didn't wake her and she didn't wake herself, she wouldn't even remember it come morning. However it wasn't just a few minutes before she settled back down and like always, he wasn't able to take just watching her anymore so he rolled over, gently shaking her shoulders, softly saying her name. "Brooke? Brooklyn. Come on, wake up- you're fine. Honey, it's just a dream," he said, trying to be comforting and gently rouse her as quickly as possible.

"It's always a little different," she said. "Not one specific part of it, but the whole thing... flashbacks and stuff." She rolled over so they were facing each other, his hand moving to rest against her waist, wanting her to come closer to him, in the hope of offering some sort of comfort. "You never have nightmares. Did you ever and did they stop?" she asked, almost hopeful that it was the case and hers would pass as well.

"Yeah, it got better with a little time," he lied. He wasn't going to feel bad about a little white lie that gave her some reassurance. He generally didn't have nightmares. He tended to have frequent sleepless nights, begging for sleep so his tired brain would stop replaying images of those he'd killed in the arena. Especially the boy from Two, whose body he had mutilated. He'd later been told by his mentor that the camera had cut away once it was clear that the boy was dead and they'd been half afraid that he'd lost it and he'd do something like try and eat his heart. He wasn't so sure that wasn't the case and it was probably pretty smart of them to sedate him before he had a chance to lash out at anyone. It still sort of scared him, what he knew he could have done. But no, he didn't have nightmares. Not dreams, either, when sleep did come. Just brief stretches of rest in which his mind was finally blank. "The worse of it really is over." Probably another lie, he couldn't know for sure or exactly what the future would hold. He knew that every time he went to the Capitol and people paid to spend an evening with him- well, that was just as bad in a way. He'd do basically anything to make sure they didn't do that or something similar to her. He brought her hand to his lips and kissed the back of it.

"We can't really be together," she said after a minute- he didn't know what was going through her mind and almost protested, buet let her finish, first. "If the Capitol doesn't like it they'll rip us apart and we won't be allowed to see each other. Or if they do like it, they'll use us as the the poster children for the happy little victors who fell in love." The more he thought about it, the worse it sounded- they'd already been used enough. He hoped they never tried to use her in the ways they had used him. Not that he could really do anything himself to protect her from it, he was just a pawn in the Capitol's game. He wasn't about to allow their relationship to be used for some sort of positive publicity tour. What would even come from that? The president would throw them an extravagant wedding and shove cameras in their faces- probably force them to time it between that year's Games and Victory tour, for media's sake. Then they'd have a couple of cute little kids and they'd spend every year praying their kids were never reaped. He wondered if they thought that would make good television, the child of two victors competing in the Games. He never wanted to find out.

"You're right. We won't, we'll keep it a secret." Even worse than all of that- if the Capitol realized they were together, they could be used as bargaining chips. If the Capitol ever wanted him to do something, all they would have to do was threaten to hurt her and they'd have him. He already knew it would be a more effective tactic than threatening his parents. That was probably terrible but it was true. "But it'll be okay. I'm not going anywhere," he promised.

"Neither am I."

They curled up again, him pulling her close to him, her resting her head against his chest and eventually they both slept, this time through the rest of the night.

[gonnaneedacandle-blog]

Hunger

He raised his head up when he heard the front door open and her footsteps. "Lazy," she teased, looking down at him, sprawled on his back on the cot. As she said it she peeled off the boots she'd been wearing, tossing her jacket to the side, landing on a chair. "Really, I can't believe you decided it would be better to just lie around rather than go out with me."

"I was tired!" he protested. "I haven't gotten a good night's sleep in weeks," he said, teasing, sitting up a bit.

"Hmm, but you don't have any trouble sleeping all day." She sat down on the edge of the cot, near his feet. He sat up so he could kiss her, tasting the blood on her lips. It was almost as good as the kiss itself. She'd been successful, then. "Did you drain him or let him live?" He asked once satisfied, leaning back a little, one of his hands finding her waist as he shifted around on the bed, letting one of his feet find the floor to keep them balanced.

"Let him live. I'd had enough after about two pints."

"You're going soft. You don't normally let them live." He'd watched his tiny little wife snap the neck of a man both taller and heavier than him before- he still wasn't quite used to it.

"Maybe I don't let them live because normally I'm trying to feed someone else as well as just me... who apparently decided they were too lazy to get food."

He put his other hand around her waist and pulled her closer to him. "So that's it, then? You do all that to provide for me?"

"Someone has to," she said, almost like it was before everything had happened and feeding him meant a trip to the kitchen, not the two of them driving out of town, to the middle of nowhere and jumping whichever poor soul they happened to find. "You're going to be whiny when you get hungry," she said as she leaned over and put her arms around his neck, a few inches between their faces.

"I can take care of myself," he insisted, even if he knew she was sort of right- and that while they didn't have to drink all that often, if more than a week or two passed without a feeding, it was a lot harder to control impulses and pretend to still be human. It could end up deadly, not just for his victim if he slipped up. He'd make sure to feed within the next day or two and all would be fine. "Come here," he said, pulling her closer for a kiss- this time it being more than just a greeting and he let his hand slip under her long sleeved black t-shirt, resting against the cool, smooth skin of her back. Eventually he felt her break away from his lips, her mouth moving down to his neck, against the scar she'd left there when she turned him. It still hurt, sometimes- but just then, the feeling of her lips against his skin was just pleasant.

"You sure you're not hungry?" she eventually said.

"I sort of had a few other things on my mind just then, dear," he said- and yes, then he was whining. And not because he was hungry, at least not for blood. "Well, maybe a little," he admitted.

She got back up- annoyingly out of his reach. "Come on then... we'll come back to this later."

[gonnaneedacandle-blog]

Priorities

Balancing running a business (especially one that involved teaching children), a hefty rehearsal schedule, and actually occasionally being around to see his family wasn't that easy. However he was actually having fun, and if nothing else, it was better than when he'd been in high school and balancing school, a job and Vocal Adrenaline's rehearsal schedule. It was a little strange to think about the fact that his role in a professional production that he was getting paid for didn't require as much of his time as his high school show choir, but so be it.

It was The Last Five Years. He'd auditioned on a whim- he' done a handful of shows since leaving high school. It was a time crunch, but otherwise he missed singing and he wasn't so good at just sitting around in the evenings, anyway. It was a paid gig- that'd happened for him a couple of times in the past. Certainly not enough to support himself and his family off of, but a little extra was always nice and the dance studio brought in enough money to keep them afloat.

It was a Regional theatre company, but that didn't mean that it wasn't good- especially not because the director had previously assistant directed a Broadway show. That didn't do anything to diminish his shock when he'd heard that the producers had found backers for a New York run- off Broadway, for the time being. And that they wanted Bobby to reprise his part in New York. They had told him he could have a few days before he told them if he wanted to take it or not. 

So he drove home after that evening's show, mostly sure he would take it. He didn't really see a reason not to. Even if Brooke and Jack didn't want to move right away, he could always move himself, first, and if things looked like they were going to work out, they could join him later. He didn't like the idea of moving to another city, alone, even on a temporary basis, but it could work. That was what he was thinking as he parked and came into the house: he'd do it.

“I've got something important to tell you,” he said as he walked into the house, heading straight for the kitchen, leaning over to kiss Brooke's cheek when he found her doing the dishes from dinner. A plate for him was sitting on the stove.

She turned off the water and turned around to look at him, smiling. “Actually, I have something important to tell you, too.” 

The words could have made him nervous if she didn't look so happy. “Ladies first, then,” he said, now selfishly eager to hear what she had to say, too- he already knew what his news was. He grabbed a fork from the drawer and stabbed it into a carrot before he even picked his plate up to move to the table while they talked. Luckily, they were actually able to afford real food at that point.

“No, really, it's important,” she said, smacking the fork away from his hand so she'd have all of his attention. She looked up at him, a little nervously, it seemed, swiping a stray lock of dark hair out of her face. “So I didn't want to tell you until I was pretty sure- I didn't want you to be disappointed if I wasn't, but,” her smile brightened and she shrugged, a little awkwardly. “I'm pregnant.”

For a second, the ability to do the word- thing went completely out of his head. They'd been trying- a little over a year before they'd decided they were ready to try for a baby. If nothing else, they were doing well enough financially at the studio by that point to support a baby, anyway. Whether that meant they were actually ready to be parents or not was another story entirely- but one they were willing to risk. He'd sort of assumed it would happen quickly. It wasn't like their, ahem, personal life had changed much in the time since they'd been teenagers- but then the first couple of months passed. They were both getting a little too good at pretending to not be concerned about it.

However apparently that wasn't an issue and all he could even do was say “Really?” like it was something she would joke about and hug her tightly for a minute before pulling back so he could kiss her, then hugging her again. “I mean, wow...” Yeah, he was failing the words thing and just hoped that she was understanding the 'excited' sentiment. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she said, nuzzled against his chest. She looked up, clasping her hands behind his neck. “What did you want to tell me?”

Despite his previous excitement, he suddenly realized that he was not going to do the show. He'd been concerned enough about how difficult it would be for Jack to get around in New York City- he wasn't going to try and make Brooke deal with a pregnancy and a move at the same time. Besides, in Akron they had a nice little house with a fenced in backyard and were well acquainted with the school system- all good things for raising a child. They didn't have that security in New York. And him going for a few months while the show opened was out of the question- maybe it would have been an option, to see how things were going to work out, but not if Brooke was pregnant. He wouldn't want to be away from her for more than a few hours.

That was when it occurred to him: he wasn't disappointed as he might expect to be. Or at least how others might expect him to be. Considering the fact that he'd had anything to say upon walking into the kitchen upon hearing Brooke's news... well, it was clear that it really didn't matter that much. “Actually, now it doesn't even matter.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yep,” he said. He'd tell his director he couldn't take the role and they should audition for someone else to take over the part for the New York run- he'd finish the run in Ohio. He had far more important things to be concerned about. He didn't realize that this show would be the last time he ever performed on stage. After that he'd always have something more important to deal with. However even if he'd known that, he would have made the same choice, all over again.

[gonnaneedacandle-blog]

Survival

She was quiet as they sat in the living room of her house in victor's village. She'd survived. That was what he'd promised her, that she would survive. Even that wasn't a promise that he should have made her- he'd had no way of ensuring it came true. It'd all been on her that it had worked out. He hadn't made any promises about what would come afterward and she had to deal with the pain and the guilt. It was just the two of them. Her mother, who she'd lived with wasn't really around- she'd let Brooke take care of herself with money sent home for a while already. Unkindly, he wondered if the woman had paused her busy life to actually watch the games and see if her child lived or died. “So this is it? Live in luxury, and then every year you train someone to be slaughtered?”

There was more to it than that, but he didn't think she really needed to hear that. ”The Victory Tour in about six months. Can't have the people of Panem forget the Hunger Games in the off season.”

She just made a very unimpressed sound. “How do you do it?” she asked. They were both picking at food, plates on their laps. It was just the two of them and there wasn't much desire to actually sit at the kitchen table, properly.

“Do what?”

“The mentor thing?”

He shut his eyes. He'd gotten lucky- of the two years since his own Games, he'd already had a winner. The way it traditionally went, she would have taken her place as one of the mentors for District 1, but he had a feeling he wasn't going to let her, and just do it himself until someone else won. He smirked a little when he opened his eyes. “Don't get too attached.”

“Shut up.” She threw one of the throw pillows from the couch at him, but he caught it before it hit his face, without dumping the half plate of food out of his lap. He considered tossing it back at her, but instead just sat it back down.

“So what would you like to do, now?”

“Immediately or with the rest of my life?”

“Either.”

She shrugged. “I didn't know before, I really don't know, now. You?”

“Survive. It's worked for me so far.” He didn't have any ambitions bigger than that. He had been a volunteer tribute and had spent his childhood preparing for the day where he was ready- old enough and no other boy from District 1 stepping forward. All he'd done in the games was survive- so, kill. Since then he'd mostly just existed and gone wherever his life seemed to take him. He wasn't so good at thinking about things more than a week or two out. Sometimes he didn't think he'd be alive that long, anyway. He wasn't sick. He wasn't going to die, soon, like his own mentor had. But sometimes it was hard to see him making it through another year. He wasn't about to tell Brooklyn that, though. “And for the present?”

“I don't think I know that, either.”

“My plan is still just to survive.”

They sat there, quietly. He didn't really feel awkward just sitting beside her. It was a little strange to not be worried about anything pressing. He wasn't training this girl to survive the brutal Games. He was trying to get her used to her real life, again. It might have been uncomfortable, but it wasn't and he didn't feel a need to babble to fill the air. Eventually she got up, took his plate from him and he could hear her scrape them semi-clean before setting them on the sink, not bothered to actually wash them.

“I should get out of your hair, thanks for dinner,” he said, standing up.

Something changed in her face, but he didn't call her on it. “Right,” she said, quietly. She reached into the little closet next to the front door to grab his jacket for him, however before she handed it over, she asked, “So your house is the one two down from mine, right?”

“Right. You're welcome whenever,” he said, nodding. “It's messy, though- it's just me living there.”

“Yeah,” she said, quietly. She had her hand on the door, but didn't unlock it to let him out. He didn't prompt her to and hadn't taken his jacket back from her. “Don't go?” she said, and he realized he suddenly didn't want to. That was when he finally took the step forward to wrap his arms around her and didn't pretend he was simply her mentor and looking out for her best interests. He kissed her, finally and she kissed him back. He was sure, then that the Capitol would have something to say- either discourage it and try to do something to cover it up and keep them apart, or spin it into some romantic love story and force them to get married on television, broadcasted throughout the nation. He wasn't focused on that, then. He was just surviving.

[gonnaneedacandle-blog]

Saved

She knew that as soon as she saw him, that her... she didn't know if it was an ordeal or an adventure, or simply a situation she had found herself in. More like thrust herself into. No matter what it was, it was over. She didn't know how he'd found her. Probably dumb luck and an educated guess. She knew better than to do something stupid like stomp her foot and demand to be allowed to stay, because she was more than sure that if she tried to protest, he would just pick her up, sling her over his shoulder, put her in the passenger seat of the car, and drive her home, even if she whined the whole way.

She sort of wished she'd been smart enough to know how bad this non-plan was in the first place.

So she got into the car with Jack- he didn't force her. He didn't ask questions, either, other than when the last time she ate was- if she could wait to eat or if she was starving. She told him she could wait, although it'd been over a day and she was pretty sure that if he knew that, he would have insisted on stopping somewhere and making her get something. And they didn't really talk. What was there to say 'so, how was your day?' 'oh, not bad, I tried to go for a job interview, when they realized I was sleeping in the subway station they made me leave, you?' 'I spent the day wondering around Chicago looking for you, half convinced you'd gone to New York instead'. No, that conversation didn't happen, it was just Leigh looking out the window of what had originally been her car at the highway, watching the sun set, and then night take over. [b]”We're still about three hours from home, but I think we should stop for the night,”[/b] he eventually said after a couple of hours.

So they got food- out of a drive through, which was a little gross, but the past few weeks had stripped her of her aversion to fast food. Then a stop at a hotel. She was slightly disturbed to realize that she was sure that the manager thought they were booking it to have sex. Perhaps not, though, considering she was a wreck and didn't really look like anyone's idea of a good night. Sure enough, as soon as they get upstairs, he hands her a towel and nudges her into the direction of the bathroom and asked if she needed anything from the convenience store across the street.

She washes her clothes in the sink, hanging them up to dry on the towel wrack. Good enough. A real, hot shower is more than she's had in a month and she stays under the hot water for over an hour, and when she finally reemerges she's not even completely sure she's satisfied, but doesn't want to hold it up any longer.

She dries off once it's his turn, notices he's set out a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt on the bed- probably what he'd bought from the store while she'd been in the shower. She changed quickly and sat on one of the two beds in the room. She has her phone charger plugged in and is considering charging it and turning it on, but she's afraid to. She already knew hundreds of texts and phone calls would be waiting for her. Her girlfriend, her best friend, Jack, the rest of her friends... she ultimately doesn't turn it on because she's a little too afraid of who might not have called. She realizes that if there's no missed calls from her mother or father, she'd refuse to go back to Akron. So she just doesn't look.

She hears the shower shut off. She's not doing anything, just sitting on the bed, studying the pattern of the bedspread and not thinking about what had happened. Not happened to her- what she'd done to herself. That only lasts until he emerges, sits down on the bed, and says, “So we have to talk, and you know I'm no good at that, so you go, just everything, spill.”

She knows it's not just a 'hey, let's talk about what happened?' it's a 'we are going to Talk about what happened and you're going to try and make me understand why you scared everyone who loves you half to death'. So she talks. She explains that school freaked her out. How she felt like she was wasting money on a degree that wouldn't really help. How the school made her feel a little trapped and stuck in the next chunk of her life. She talks about how she hadn't wanted to come home in defeat. She didn't want help, she knew she'd just get dragged home, and no, she doesn't mind going back to Akron now, because she'd had enough. She explains that her money ran out, she was sleeping in the station and eating as little as possible, trying to find auditions and job interviews, but nothing was working out and she was starting to feel like nothing was ever going to work out for her again. 

And because this was Jack, and he'd once again ridden in on his proverbial white horse to save his very platonic princess, she told him that she'd been afraid her parents wouldn't even care, and she didn't know if she could go back knowing they didn't. She cried- of course she cried. And she apologized for scaring everyone and knew that this time, apologies were definitely in order. He asked her if there was some non-Akron place she wanted to go. Cincinnati crossed her mind, but she couldn't go back there- she'd dropped out of school and everything. So she said no, she'd just figure something out at home.

It's when she's safe and under the covers of one of the beds, and Jack's turning off the light and climbing into the other bed that she says “Thank you,” and he just tells her “You're welcome so long as you never do this again,” that she starts to feel like it'll actually be OK.