thecapitol | Remind me what the point of all this is?

Entry tags:

Remind me what the point of all this is?

Who| Ian Gallagher and you
What| Ian wakes up and all those good intentions go out of the window
Where| D 6 suites, Tribute lounge, around the Capitol
When| Late week 3 into week 4
Warnings/Notes| Alcohol and drugs, mentions of arena stuff including Ian C's death

Waking up from death never became normal. Or maybe it did, it was only the third time Ian had died, fourth he guessed if he counted the time in the candy arena before he went to the desert. But it was still a shock, a few hours of feeling displaced. He hoped it never did become normal, because that would be creepy.

He was released pretty quickly and flopped onto his bed. It was another thing that he could never get used to, he came back after the arena and his brain told him he should be exhausted, he should be starving. But he wasn't, he felt fine. There was no physical evidence at all, the scars were gone. Like it had never happened.

But then he closed his eyes and all he could see were flames. He sat up, got up. He would go crazy in this room, he had to be out. Around people. Preferably people who hadn't spent the last month watching him fight, struggle to survive and die but beggars couldn't be choosers.

So he would take noise and people, a reminder he was alive. He went down to the main lounge, after sticking his head in the common area of district sixes floor to see who was around. He got a drink at the bar and sat angled away from as many televisions as possible.

Really, he thought, he should stick to just the one drink. He had been out of shape last arena, a result of too much drink and the morphling. Now, new made as he was it was out of his system, it was practically a new chance. He could stop it all, train hard. Work out some plan. Get stronger.

He heard a scream from nearby and closed his eyes, seeing the burned features of Ian again. "Fuck this." What exactly was the point? Why should he fight? To stop one of these people, who were just as trapped as he was from killing him? To kill them instead? To do the same thing again and again just because people found it amusing.

He got a second drink, and a third, which led to a fourth, which led to the clubs of the capitol, the louder the better. Dark and loud where he could forget everything.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Ian had been keeping an eye on the arena - it was hard to miss what was going on in any case - so he knew the other Ian had died and had been trying to decide whether to seek him out or not. He'd compromised by hanging around the place and then one day, there he was in the bar.

He was just getting a drink and Ian sighed, not wanting him to be going out and getting drunk again, not that there was much Ian could do about it. But he went over, so Ian would see him, but kept far enough way that the other Ian could just walk away if he wanted.

Ian had downed the first drink and was drinking his second slower when he saw him. Somewhere in the list of the things he wasn't doing anymore was; talking to Ian. But seeing him brought a surge of anger, of guilt, of grief. Made his breath catch because even though he knew he would be back, again, just like last time, it was still a shock. Seeing someone you had seen dead, so dead and destroyed that if he hadn't known who it was he would not have recognised him, seeing him alive now. Just sat there, like nothing had happened.

Ian stood, picking up his drink. Another promise to himself broken. Though he should have known, he couldn't just promise himself to not care about anyone anymore.

"Is being back here everything you fucking wanted it to be?"

So Ian wasn't happy. Ian didn't think he would have been, but he still sighed at the question. "No." Being back here wasn't that great, even if it had advantages over being in the arena. "But at least no one's going to try and kill me out here and I'm not expected to kill anyone else either."

"Yeah." He glared at him and downed that drink as well. "But I'm sure it isn't worth fucking setting yourself on fire for." His voice is a little too loud for this to be a private conversation, but he ignores any staring.

"Or am I missing something?"

His eyes were on Ian's glass as he downed his drink, but given his manner, Ian didn't dare intervene. "I wanted to be noticed," he explained quietly, so he wouldn't be overheard. "Dying slowly wasn't going to accomplish that."

"Yeah well." Ian's hands curled into fists, "Well I noticed you." He glared, "I noticed you being a fucking coward and I'm sure others did too."

Ian laughed at that, he couldn't help it. Of all the things, burning to death was not the coward's way out. "Is that really what you think of me?"

"Yeah." No it wasn't, well sort of. But really he was just angry, because he hadn't been able to stop him. "You couldn't take it, you wanted out. What happens if they take you literally? Just don't bring you back." He shook his head.

He shrugged. "Then at least I won't have to worry about this place any more." Not that he wanted to be dead, but he could think of worse things.

Ian just stared at him for a moment, and shook his head. "Fuck you." He put out a hand to order another drink.

"There's better ways to get noticed."

"Like drinking yourself into a stupor?" Ian asked mildly. At least his strategy made sense.

"I never said I wanted to get noticed." He shrugged, and took the glass when it came, drinking again.

"No, you just want to drink yourself into a stupor." He sighed and wished Ian could see that what he was doing wasn't helping.

"Yeah, and I'm doing a good job of it." He grinned, "You going to tell me off for being self destructive? After what you fucking did?"

Ian opened his mouth to point out that being self destructive wasn't going to get him anywhere and then closed it. The other Ian was right - it would be hypocritical. "All right, so we both have self destructive tendencies. But next time, when I tell you to leave me, do it."

"Yeah? So that someone else can stumble upon you instead?" Ian's drink came and he took a mouthful. "What if it had been one of the kids," there were some really little ones. "That sort of shit would fuck them up badly."

Ian shook his head. Not because he was disagreeing, but because he didn't want one of the kids to see that. "There shouldn't be any kids in the arena." It was off the point, perhaps, but something Ian felt passionate about. He didn't dare point out that Ian was one of those kids and it clearly wasn't doing him any good. "There's all sorts going on in there they shouldn't be a part of."

"Yeah well, it's not like they have a choice." Ian told him. It wasn't like the Capitol cared how old someone was. As long as they could hold a weapon. "But you have a fucking choice about what you do, and what you let them see."

"I didn't let anyone see," Ian snapped, getting irritated, even though he knew he shouldn't. "You didn't have to watch."

"It was a fucking open floor, anyone could have walked in." Ian snapped back. Because he was angry too and he clenched his fists to try and control it.

"You can't expect me to just fucking... leave you to die."

He shook his head. "Why not? That's what I wanted." He was still stuck on the fact that he felt Ian should have walked away when he told him to.

"And you would have done that if it had been me? Just been able to walk away?" Because somehow he doubted Ian would.

No, he wouldn't. Of course he wouldn't. He sighed, his irritation turning to remorse. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "I didn't intend for anyone to see." No one in the arena anyway.

"Well that backfired." Ian told him, he knew he was sulking but still.

"Yes, it did," he agreed with a wry smile. "I can't promise not to do it again. I'm not going to let myself be pushed around."

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject