[OPEN] And pray there's no one left to fight:

[futilecycle]

WHO| Sigma Klim and you.
WHAT| Sigma watches this entry on television and freaks out accordingly.
WHEN| During Week 5, after his son's arrival.
WHERE| The District 10 common room.
WARNINGS / NOTES| Anxiety attacks, allusions to death, language.


Sigma awoke from death as easily as one wakes in the morning. He found himself far less upset about the circumstances of how he perished than he had expected. It was not that he'd become content with dying, only that he'd accepted it was more a part of an esper's life than any other human being. How many times had this been, now? Twenty nine deaths? Thirty?

The days followed quickly. Sigma did not leave the floor to explore the Capitol, the thought of citizens gawking at him disgusted him. Instead he focused on what he knew would be a necessary evil to succeed in the next Arena: he took to watching the show. The Doctor observed coldly and analytically in the common room of District 10 for hours on end, making a note of the faces he saw.

Indeed, he had been so caught up in his investigation that the introduction of one particular Tribute caught Sigma unprepared.

The tufts of jet black hair peeking around the edges of the parka hood were his first clue. Dark glasses concealed his face, but the Tribute's height and build were oh-so-familiar. Such an innocent man, almost like a child, carefreely playing in the snow, gathering it into shapes... He must have been soft in the head, he was sure some would speculate. How were they to know that he had spent his whole life encased in metal, that he had never seen the sky, never lived with nature, never known winter?

Sigma turned white and found himself unable to breathe. Chilled and his chest tight, the old man collapsed backwards into his seat weakly, gawking at the television. Forgetting where he was, Dr. Klim covered his face and shook, filled with more electric terror than he had felt the duration of the Arena. Let it be a dream. Let this one live...

The one he had seen on screen was his boy.

Comments

[futilecycle]

Sigma opened his mouth to protest, knowing they were always being watched and anything he admitted would be used against him. But he did want sympathy from someone, he decided, if just once. Akane had given him none, and he felt as though he could not face the crushing terror that consumed him now alone.

Dr. Klim only shook his head weakly, not suggesting she had it wrong, but that he did not wish for her to say any more. It was already enough for him to know that the boy who had slept with a stuffed animal until he was eighteen, the lonely child who once snuck into his father's room just to watch him sleep, who as an adult had constantly requested a new story from his 'mother' each night - Sigma would have to watch that man die one more time. Kyle's deaths he had already witnessed had been planned: controlled, even. He had been able to prepare himself for them long before Kyle's birth. But this was not the Nonary Game and he did not need for his son's chances to be said out loud, for he felt that would tear away the last of his composure.

Sigma covered his face with his hands, defeated. "I am sure there are still parents capable of loving their children in Panem, and even here in the Capitol," he muttered beneath his fingers in nearly a whisper, hoping his words fell on Eva's ears alone. "I do not understand how this was allowed to go on. I cannot understand."

[vissernone]

Eva knows not to say any of it out loud. It's only a matter of time, she thinks, until the Capitol invents chips that can reach every treacherous thought, but since that hasn't happened yet what stays unspoken and unwritten is still sacrosanct.

She pauses for a moment and then pulls up her dress slightly, to reveal a small tattoo on her calf. A date in November, some thirty-nine years ago. She hopes Sigma understands the significance; it's her son's birthday. It's clearly not hers. "Panem is not short of parents who love their children."

She looks down at the carpet and lets her dress fall back to cover it. "In fact, quite often a parent's love can be perverted to keep this whole structure standing. People don't fight back very hard when you hold a gun to their babies."

[futilecycle]

Sigma uncovered his face at the rustle of fabric, and his eye still lingers on the fringe of her dress after she covers her skin. He wondered if her son had been a victim of The Games as well. What poor fortune... "It appears... I did not give it much thought, after all." The Doctor found himself jealous of her... if only fate had allowed him to express his love of his son in similar ways, perhaps he and Kyle would be on good terms.

He turned and stared at the wall, thinking of how many parents in Panem were in the same position he was now... a spectator, powerless to stop their children from being slaughtered. Dead if they complained, and their little one as well. Sigma straightened up. For the first time likely in the history of the Hunger Games, he would be able to step in, to defend his child... This time he would not fail.

He took a breath. "I am sorry, it is not my place to be ungrateful of gifts. But if, in the future, if you decide to sponsor me again... if instead you could send him the food you'd have given me..."

It was the only sort of begging he felt would do any good.

[vissernone]

"Believe me, I understand." She smooths out the fabric of her dress and stands up, off the couch. "And I understand how paltry my attempts at consolation will be."

She walks around the couch, looking out the window at the Panem skyline. "There's only so much help I'm comfortable giving to Tributes outside my District. I do have some loyalty to my people, if I have nothing else. But...your request doesn't fall on deaf ears."