Chapter Text
Anya and Titus had a strict set of rules for their tributes. Diets high in protein, low in fattening foods. Limited interaction between them and the other tributes, except for Echo, Roan and other potential allies. And bedtime straight after the interviews.
But, Lexa and Aden had already broken those rules. So, what was the harm in breaking this one, too?
"I'll see you in the morning, Lex." Anya had said, giving her tribute a rare hug. "Make sure you get enough rest."
Lexa had nodded, hugging her mentor back and making for her room.
She had barely pulled on her favorite pair of forest green pyjamas and slipped under the covers when there was a slight tap at her door.
"Come in."
The person at the door opened it slowly, and a small figure slunk through, lingering at the doorway.
"Lexi?"
If there had been any doubt as to who it was, it dissipated with the shaky word.
"Can I come in?"
"Sure," she said, and Aden's shoulders collapsed as he raced into the room. Lexa pulled back her covers and her younger cousin jumped in, immediately snuggling closer to her.
As she dropped the covers back around them, she tried to keep the surprise at Aden's actions out of her voice. She didn't know whether it would be crueler to ask what was wrong and make him admit his fears or to pull into words what they both knew was wrong and take away any pretense of bravery that he might have been able to maintain. So, she settled for silence. For pulling Aden closer to her chest and pretending she didn't notice when tears began to soak her shoulder.
It took some time for Aden's tears to taper off. She was astonished that he had managed to fall asleep, since her own mind was still racing at double speed. It wasn't exactly that she was frightened, although her heart had begun to beat a million miles an hour. It was more like she was... nervous. She pulled Aden's sleeping body closer to her, kissing his damp hair. Taking a look at her cousin, his typical tiny scowl absent from his face and a strand of drool hanging from the corner of his lip, it struck Lexa just how young Aden was.
How young he would always be.
There was no room for emotion in the Games, but as she thought about the young boy snuggled against her, Lexa found herself crying silently into Aden's hair and praying to any God she could think of that the weapon to end him would be gentle.
Echo supposed that they must've had the same idea. Anyone who sleep couldn't seem to find would've. A warm night, a balcony overlooking a glimmering city, and the promise of some solitude and time to collect one's thoughts. Except, solitude, seemed to be in short supply on District Two's balcony.
When she had slid open the door leading to the only breath of fresh air available to her, it had been to find a broad back facing towards the cityscape, hair pulled into a low bun. Sighing, she turned her back, hoping to avoid a conversation, something which at this point would only serve to distract her.
"Is that you, Echo?"
He hadn't even turned around.
"Yes. Goodnight, Roan. See you in the morning."
"No!" The tone of his voice made her turn and face him, only to find him looking back at her with an air of desperation, the lights of the city glimmering in his eyes.
"Echo," he said. "Will you... I suppose I wouldn't mind some company."
She looked at him, then towards the sliding glass door. Then back at him.
With the thought of sleep still a distant dream, Echo walked forward and plopped down beside Roan. It might, she thought, be nice to have someone to talk to.
"It's a warm night," Roan commented absently. She nodded.
There was no more conversation for a time. The two tributes simply stared at the city, each lost in their own thoughts.
"Echo."
"What?"
"I... You have to promise not to laugh at me. Or to think of me any differently."
"I promise."
The lie came easily- he had to know that in less than 12 hours, any promises they made now or had ever made would lose all meaning.
"I don't really know what's going to happen tomorrow."
She wised he could take the words back. If there was something she'd rather not talk about, it was the fact that she had no idea either. But words, once spoken, tended to linger in the air until they got a response.
"Ro."
He turned to look at her, but she kept her gaze fixed on the brilliant city surrounding them.
"You can't fucking talk like that. Even think it. You know all it'll do is get you killed. Hell, if you said that in there, I'd have to take you out myself just to save a shred of pride for Two."
Roan seemed to wilt next to her.
"I know. I'm sorry, Echo."
She could feel his gaze slide down to study his lap, and the part of his skin that she was touching flushed with what could only be shame.
Awkwardness hung heavy in the air between them as Echo moved her hand ever so slightly so that it rested on her own knee instead of pressed against Roan's side.
"Well," he said, finally shifting and making to rise. "I should get some rest."
As Roan stood, his eyes inadvertently locked with hers.
They stared.
This time, Echo, suddenly feeling extraordinarily naked in her camisole and shorts, was the one to break the silence.
"Stay? I... I think I'd like to not be alone tonight?"
His eyes dropped from hers and locked onto her lips. His mouth opened, maybe to ask for permission, but before he could get the words out, she had leapt to her feet and thrown herself on him.
It didn't matter that they were on a 2nd floor balcony, where anyone with half decent eyesight could see them. All that mattered was the pure physicality of it- Roan's hands wrapping themselves around Echo's braids, using them to pull her closer. Echo's fingernails marking red trails as they raked down Roan's back. The weakness of their knees causing the kiss to fall down to the balcony floor.
As they pulled apart to take a gasp of air, Roan's low voice wound its way into Echo's ear.
"Anything you don't want?"
She didn't even have to think before she was wrapping her legs around his waist, feeling the beginnings of his erection poke at her ass.
"Just fuck me."
Permission was all he had been waiting for. The balcony became, just for one night, their safe space. A place where it didn't matter that they were going to the Games in the morning, where they might have to kill each other. All that mattered was his cock as it slid inside her, and how it felt to fall asleep in the warm night air, her head curled against his shoulder.
She must have taken the radio apart twenty times by now, each time trying to make it into something new. But it always ended up as a radio again. There was really no better use for it than to tap into the Capitol airways and listen to whatever counted as music for those people. She hadn't even taken off her interview dress yet, the red fabric still clinging to her in a way which showed far more of her breasts than she had wanted exposed to the Capitol's prying eyes.
That dress, that interview... they both faded to afterthoughts in her mind as she tinkered with the one simple machine that she could access without disturbing anyone else on the floor. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, so as to be out of her face as she worked.
For some reason, this calmed the racing thoughts in her brain. She supposed that it reminded her of home, of the day when Sinclair had come up to her and told her that he had been so impressed with her work in school that he was taking her on as an apprentice. He had saved her then, given her a purpose that wasn't just waiting for her mother to use her to get sympathy and food.
He couldn't save her this time.
She turned the last screw into place, and the radio blared back to life again.
Louder than she'd meant it to.
A beat pounded through the speaker and Raven swore, reaching for the dial to turn it down several notches. Wouldn't it just be fantastic if she managed to wake up Monty?
When there were no immediate sounds of anyone else stirring, Raven let out her breath, trying to focus on the music. She wondered who recorded it- it was a marvel that any of the citizens of the Capitol even had jobs, since all they seemed to do was wait for a new batch of children to roll into their city for the slaughter.
But, someone had to have recorded this garbage, and it sure as hell wasn't anyone in any of the Districts.
A tap on the door interrupted Raven's thought process, and she swore.
"Who is it?" she asked, praying that it wasn't Monty. The last thing he needed tonight was to be woken up by a district partner who had forgotten that she needed to adjust the volume on her speakers.
"Sinclair. Open up, Reyes."
Fuck, she thought to herself. There was a part of Raven that was dying to open the door, but a bigger part of her knew that all it would get her was a talking to about turning out her lights and trying to get a good night's rest. And that was the last thing she wanted right now.
Unfortunately, her choice vanished when the door slid silently open to reveal her mentor, clad in a sleeveless shirt and a pair of pyjama pants. She slammed her hand on her radio's mute button, then looked back at Sinclair to find him staring at her.
"Let's have a chat, Reyes."
Without bothering to ask her permission- which seemed to be a theme for him tonight- Sinclair sat down on the edge of Raven's Queen sized bed and gestured for her to join him. She considered it for a moment, then turned her attention back to fiddling with the machine in front of her.
"Mature. Okay, I'll talk. You listen."
Raven nodded, still not turning around to look at him. She could sense little waves of frustration rolling off of him- not enough for him to be mad, but definitely present.
"I understand, Reyes. You have to believe that I understand exactly how you're feeling right now. I know it's difficult to find sleep, but you need to try. Because if you go in there at less than 100 percent, I can promise you that they will notice. And then you're an easy target. That's not you, Reyes. I... You can't be a target."
Raven tried to stop her hands from moving as she finally turned around to look at her mentor sitting on her bed.
"I know, Sinclair. But I can't fucking sleep, okay?"
He nodded, rising and making his way to the still-ajar door.
"Can we get an Avox in here?"
There was no reply, but of course there wouldn't be. Instead of returning to sit on the bed and wait, Sinclair walked over to the desk chair where Raven sat and put a hand on her left shoulder.
"Go to bed, Rae."
Rae. She hadn't heard that nickname since he first took her on, and somehow it was exactly what she needed to allow herself to be pulled from her chair and towards the bathroom. Sinclair ruffled through her drawers and tossed her a pair of pyjamas, clearly signalling her to get ready for bed.
As she shucked off her interview dress and pulled her hair from it's hairspray laden ponytail and into the messy bun that she slept in, Raven heard Sinclair quietly thanking someone. The Avox, she supposed.
Exiting the bathroom, he handed her a cup full of water and a large pill.
"Take this, Rae. It's a pill for sleep- dreamless sleep. And I'll see you in the morning."
Casting one last glance towards her radio, Raven took the pill and the water from Sinclair's hand and slid into bed.
Luna knew that sleep was useless. Especially for her. Which was why she was avoiding it like a nest of Tracker Jackers.
Besides, meditation was just as good.
Her legs were crossed, one above the other in a lotus position. Her palms were flat on her thighs, and her eyes were shut serenely as she tried to empty her mind of any thought which tried to sneak in and interrupt her.
In, out.
Controlling her breath was important, probably just as important as keeping any image of blood, of death, of Derrick, out of her head. She had sworn to herself that she would never think of that moment again, even if it was the moment that was the one bound to destroy her in the end.
In, out.
She pushed Derrick out of her mind for what must have been the hundredth time that night, and a new image took his place. Herself.
Not the Luna on the floor. This Luna was surrounded by trees, and by boulders, and around her was... carnage.
It was the pile of bodies again. The nightmare even worse than the memories she already had.
And the reason that she was going to die soon.
In, out.
Whoever designed the Tribute Center really should have thought better than to let teenagers order whatever they wanted, and whatever time during the day they wanted. Murphy guessed that they probably thought that any tribute who had even the barest of chances to survive the Arena wouldn't use it too frequently. Or too late at night, especially on the night where they needed sleep more than any other.
But, those idiots hadn't counted on him.
Murphy was currently surrounded by three empty beer bottles and was twisting the cap off of a full bottle of vodka, bringing it up to his mouth to take a swig. The burn of the alcohol sliding down his throat and into his stomach, where it splashed on top of all the liquid that was already there.
It tasted extraordinarily bad- worse than the stuff that Murphy and the other orphan kids had managed to sneak out of the cabinet where the useless man who ran the group home thought they wouldn't find it. He coughed, shoving the cap back on the bottle.
Couldn't the Capitol at least afford to flavor the shit that would get him blackout drunk?
Because there was nothing else he really could do, after that interview.
Everyone in the group home had known not to bring up Murphy's parents, because they would either get a black eye or be blocked out of the bathroom the entire next morning while he threw up his hangover. Neither option was pretty.
Despite the foul taste, Murphy took another swig of vodka and flopped back down onto his bed, head spinning and pounding at the same time.
Thoughts of his father, so carefully suppressed all the time, always flooded out when he was drunk. Which usually happened whenever anyone made him think of his father.
Suddenly, all Murphy could think about was him. Alex Murphy, the man with the kind eyes and the big smile and the warm arms that always made his son feel so safe and protected, despite the horrors that happened each and every day in District 5.
The man who had taken a bullet in the back of his skull for saving his son's life.
Vodka bottle forgotten and left dripping onto the floor, Murphy grabbed the closest object to him- a pillow which was already splattered with alcohol- and pulled it to his chest. Suddenly, a wave of terror crashed over his brain and into his chest.
The last time he had been this scared, he had been dying in his bed. He'd had strong arms to protect him, to ultimately die for him. There was no one who was going to do that this time.
"Dad," he whispered, slurring his words. "Daddy, help me."
The tears came like a tsunami and he cried himself to sleep imagining that his father was holding him. At least he'd see him soon.
They didn't have sex.
Jasper couldn't blame Maya for not wanting to- sex wouldn't erase what would happen in the morning from either of their minds. The only thing that could do that was, unfortunately, the thing that would bring it ever closer. Sleep.
They had known right away that neither of them was going to be able to sleep on their own- they had slept in the same bed every night since they had boarded the train to the Capitol, and neither would have been willing to spend apart what may be their last night on the planet.
So, just like every night, Maya was curled up against Jasper's chest, arms wrapped around the back of his neck, snoring gently. The medicine the Capitol had given her to help her sleep had taken effect quickly. Jasper was considering calling for some of his own.
But somehow, it felt more important to stay awake. He knew, rationally, that he had to sleep. If he didn't get sleep, he wouldn't be able to protect Maya in the morning.
She sniffled quietly in her sleep, and Jasper felt tears well in his eyes. Here was the most important person in his life, and he was terrified that there would be nothing he could do to save her.
"I love you," he whispered, kissing her gently on the forehead. "Sleep tight, My. I'll be here in the morning, and for the rest of our lives."
It took him a while to drift off to sleep, still holding Maya against his chest.