Leaving No Signs of Pain, Your Wounds to Mend [Closed]

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

WHO | Howard and Eponine, Howard and Sigma
WHAT | Howard reunites with the allies who didn't kill him.
WHEN | Week 5
WHERE | Tribute Center
WARNINGS / NOTES | Memories of torture/death.


There's one moment between dying and dead where he doesn't want to wake up, because the pain goes away. The puncture wounds stop stabbing, his head stops throbbing, the cold ceases to bite, and he thinks for a moment that it would be okay to be like this forever. But he does wake up, with a headache and a general sense of malaise. They revived him.

He doesn't leave his room for over a day, too scared to go anywhere but under the covers of his bed. He doesn't sleep, nor does he eat, nor does he get up to use the bathroom. He stays there, mostly in the fetal position, hungry, holding it, thirsty, shaking. He knows Alpha shares a Suite with him. He doesn't know if Aunamee does.

He can't face the television screens out there. He knows his painful, ugly death at Aunamee's hands will be fine entertainment, and he doesn't want to hear himself screaming again. He can still hear it in his own head. He runs his hands over the skin stretched over his ribs, looking for injuries that were fixed before he woke up. He keeps licking the inside of his teeth to remind himself he hasn't bitten his tongue off for good, he keeps spitting into the wastebin next to the bed because his mouth tastes like blood. When an Avox comes in to try and deliver chocolates, he bursts into tears.

When he finally does gather the strength to get up, he's trembling less from fear than exhaustion, and the blood rushing to his head makes him so dizzy he needs to steady himself with the bedstand. He listens under his door, but it's the dead of night and no one else seems to be awake, so he ventures out into the living room. The idea of running into Alpha chills him. He keeps alert, moving as quietly as he can to the elevator. The television in the living room is playing out Sherlock getting sliced in half. Howard looks away.

There are two people he needs to see, at least. Sigma and Eponine. So he visits their floors, the third suite and the tenth. He doesn't know how well either will take to a light knock at their door at some ungodly hour, but he doesn't know what else to do and he's afraid to be out and about when Draco or Aunamee or Alpha might see him.

At each door, he knocks lightly three times, and waits, arms wrapped around his skinny body in the plush snakeskin-print Capitol pajamas.

Comments

[makeflowersgrow]

Eponine answers at once. She's on a come-down, and shivering badly, even beneath three oversized jumpers. Her face is streaked with tears and her hair is a mess. It's been a traumatic day for her.

And so when she sees Howard stood there, she doesn't even think twice. She flings her arms around his neck and hugs him tight.

"Howard - I'm sorry. I thought you would win!"

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

In some awful way, it's some comfort to see she's as much of a mess right now as he is. He hugs her back, clinging to her like she's a life raft in a storm, whimpering her name like a prayer. He wants so badly to be angry at her, like he was back in the Arena, but it's such a relief to have her here and tangible. Alive. Both of them alive.

After a moment of clutching her, he lets her go. "You know I'm never going to win one of these."

[makeflowersgrow]

She hugs herself instead, staring down at the floor, suddenly shy.

"I thought, perhaps, with the extra clothes - and my shoes as weapons - and and one less mouth to feed. I thought you'd be safe."

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

"Your shoes as weapons..." he repeats, then makes a sad little laughing sound. His voice, however, is utterly devoid of humor. "I know you meant good, Epsy-Daisy. But don't do that to me again. Don't."

He glances at her doorway. "Do you mind if I come in?"

[makeflowersgrow]

She shrugs. "Better than nothing... and I didn't need them."

Eponine smiles at the nickname - a new one. "Better than 'Pony', Howard.", before moving aside to let him in. Her room's a pig sty. Clothes are scattered everywhere, and crumbs litter the floor and the bed. Eponine's pyjama pants are on the floor, and she drags them on quickly.

"Was it quick, your death?"

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

"I like Epsy-Daisy. I might stick with it." He takes a seat on the floor, crossing his legs and hunching his shoulders. "And no, there was...I think I got tortured. I don't know. I don't know."

He's shaking a little still. "I like your room." His is more orderly, but the room as it is now says its been lived in, that she's had time to adjust again to the Capitol. "Why were you crying?"

[makeflowersgrow]

She plops down next to him, dragging the blanket off her bed to drape round both of them, and she puts her arm around him too.

"Tortured? Like... they teased you before they killed you?"

When he mentions her own tears, Eponine hastily wipes her face.

"Something today played a trick on us. They made me think Marius was here. I tried to kiss Inspector Javert... and the man who killed me. They - he let me think he was Marius. And now I have done bad things. Javert will have me arrested for sure, Howard. I don't want to go back to prison."

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

"Yeah, kind of like that." He's sure she'll see it on one of the TV's eventually. The Capitol's just going to eat up a handsome older man pinning a struggling, screaming, bleeding, wetting himself teenager down and butchering him while he whispers sweet nothings in his victim's ear.

He leans into the crook of her arm, and his head rests on her bony shoulder. Marius, the guy she's in love with. He forgot about that.

"You won't go back to prison. There's some kind of...deniability, right? You'll be okay." The cynical part of him emerges. "Besides, if you're in prison, your every televised move is going to be really boring."

He reaches over to take her hand. He wants to promise her that he'll protect her from that, but he knows full well he can't do that. He couldn't even protect her from herself. He couldn't protect his own body from agonizing torture.

[makeflowersgrow]

"Who did it this time, Howard? Not the pale man - I shouted at him - YOU! I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU KILLED HIM. AND YOU SAID IT WAS FOR ME! HOWARD, I DO NOT NEED YOU TO SAVE ME OR KILL PEOPLE FOR ME."

Her anger explodes as she suddenly remembers, and she scoots away from the poor lad. Her hand is, of course, snatched back.

"He was SO cross, you know? He will go after BOTH of us now. You have already signed my death warrant. Are you happy, Howard?"

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

He looks stunned, then deeply hurt, then angry in turn. He'd come to her looking for solace, looking for a friend, looking to comfort a friend in turn, and instead he's being yelled at and rejected. His cheeks flush red.

"No, I'm not happy!" He grits his teeth in the back before continuing. "Just because you don't play the game, Eponine, doesn't mean no one else is. I didn't even mean to kill him, I just wanted to scare him..."

A pall seems to come over his face, so he squints his eyes and looks away. He doesn't want to remember it. He gets up as if to storm out of her room and feels the dizziness come back, thinks better of it and sits back down.

[makeflowersgrow]

"Yes, well, maybe I should play the game and slit your throat whilst I am there. It would stop you getting me into bother with that man, no?" She spits her reply back.

"I am FED UP with this place. With all these people, kill kill kill - and you - Howard, you are my only friend - and I don't understand why you go to kill him. Valeria says I am here to make up for being bad in Paris. But what about you? Or Madame Lottie? Or Inspector Javert? Howard, you should be more careful. I do not wish to see you die."

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

He cringes away from her at the threat, unable to parse whether or not she's serious. There's something dark and scared in his eyes, that she's turned on him too, like everyone else he's placed any trust in here.

He doesn't know how he'd survive that. It preoccupies his thoughts even as she changes tactic and tells him she doesn't want him to die.

"You think I didn't have to be bad back home?"

[makeflowersgrow]

She sighs and shrugs, before sitting down a few meters from him.

"I do not know. It is different, no? You were all on your own; you HAD to break into houses. Me..." She shakes her head.

"I was not joking when I said I was a bad girl. I am a horrible girl. I always have been. I wish it were not so, but..." She shrugs again.

"I do not like the idea of you killing though. Especially not that man. Because he will come after you. He is like Montparnasse that one. He holds a grudge. He's dangerous."

[futilecycle]

"One moment," the deep voice on the other side calls. A television powers off. Sigma answers the door in no better a state, a nervous twitch in his eyelid and a face creased by insomnia. Still in his daily attire, he'd chosen a plain but military-like outfit from the wardrobe they'd provided as if to make himself look dangerous. It seemed uncharacteristic of him, considering his commitment to nonviolence. And for all the Capitol products available to him, his hair is notably greasy from the time he'd spent clutching fistfuls of it.

"Howard," he says with controlled surprise. He grimaces, the boy's brutal death had been all he had seen (and intended to see) of Howard's appearance in the Arena since Sigma woke up in the Capitol. It appeared that he, too, had no shortage of allies willing to betray him. "...I did not believe you would want to see me again."

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

"You look awful."

Howard's taken somewhat aback by Sigma's appearance, which seems, to him, less human than some sort of cardboard ghost. Then again, he hasn't looked in a mirror, but he's sure he doesn't look much better: dark circles, lip bitten bloody, a tremble that runs down one wrist but not the other.

He wonders how Sigma died. He didn't watch, and he doesn't feel as if right now is the appropriate time to ask.

"Who else would I go see? Everyone else I talk to..." Well, they either kill themselves on him or try to kill him, sometimes successfully. His voice is hushed, and given that he doesn't know which suite Aunamee lives in, if he's back in the Capitol, he keeps looking over his shoulder. "Can I come in?"

[futilecycle]

Ignorant of his appearance and mistaking Howard's comment for snark, Sigma raises an eyebrow. When it does dawn on him that Howard was merely making an observation, the Doctor ignores it, concluding that the boy is the one in greater need. He briefly wonders if it would be worth keeping an eye on him outside of the Arena as well as in. Softening, Sigma steps aside.

"...I would appreciate it if you did. Can I get anything for you?"

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

Howard enters as if he wishes he were a shadow, hugging the wall and sinking at the knee, body language that makes him seem even smaller. It's as if he would disappear entirely if he could, or slip through one of the cracks in the floorboards. He finds a seat and sits with arms locked, shoulders hunched, knees drawn partway up protectively.

"No, I'm fine, I just, I just don't want to be seen if he's back yet." He doesn't know if Sigma saw what happened. He hopes so, if only because he doesn't want to explain it. "I wanted to, um..."

It's strange. Even though he's undeniably looking for counsel, like a child waking up from a nightmare and looking for their parent, he feels the need to pretend Sigma's the one who needs tending to. It makes him feel more in control of the situation.

"First arena's rough. Wanted to make sure you're okay." And Sigma clearly doesn't look it.

[futilecycle]

Sigma nodded in understanding. To return them to the Capitol after a fight to the death and to expect them to be cordial was ridiculous. Rules or not, he imagined there would be blood shed even outside of combat, especially from those who were... unhinged. "There are a few in particular I would rather not see, myself." He shuts the door. "But do not worry, there is no one after my head. For the time being, we are safe here."

As for Howard's half truth, Sigma looks away with a shrug. "I do not suppose it will get better, Howard. The Game has changed me." He does not expand on this line of thought. On Sigma's bed is a large notepad, the open page filled with heavy black scrawl. Sigma walks by and closes it discreetly.

"I am sorry you did not win," he deflects. Undoubtedly had Aunamee not killed Howard, he would have stood a very good chance against the girl who had been victor.

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

"Okay, good." He breathes a sigh of relief. He really does need to go back over the tapes, memorize who to trust, who to avoid, but the idea makes his stomach turn, and he knows he can't do that quite yet. He can't rewatch Alpha pinning him down, can't rewatch trying to breathe life into Eponine, can't rewatch stabbing Draco to death, can't rewatch Aunamee sticking him with a knife like a wriggling, still-alive butterfly into a collection. "Actually, do you have water? I haven't had anything to drink since I got back."

Thirty-five hours ago.

He notes the notepad, but it's too far away to see the text, and he interprets the way Sigma closes it as refusing to let the conversation take that direction. He just shrugs a bit at the comment about winning - he doesn't want to think about being set up against Wyatt, or even Momoko. Just because he doesn't like her doesn't mean he would be able to kill her.

"I thought you already went through a game like this. For your powers." Then again, he survived one arena too, and it didn't hit him as hard as this last one. Again, he wonders what Sigma saw, how he died.

[futilecycle]

Sigma quietly retrieves Howard's water, a little irritated by the insensitive question. He wasn't particularly happy about having killed his companions, but he remains calm with his guest. Placing a water bottle near the other Tribute, he puts a finger to his chin and decides what to say.

"..That is correct. But you should understand that out of over twenty-five rounds, I only won twice," he says carefully. Winning the Nonary Game did not make him a skilled killer, nor did he possess Akane's iron will... he still feared death, especially those of his loved ones. "I can- could- travel through time, Howard, even after my death. Knowing what would happen, I set the murders to occur in such a way that it didn't appear to be my fault, so I did not blame myself, not at first. Things are not so simple any longer."

He scratches his hair, looks away, watches the blank television screen. That wasn't quite it, of course, only an excuse and an extremely simple explanation of the game he made himself play. But it serves to warn the boy that he will no longer take to the Arena with a passive role. That he will make himself a target. "Next time I am afraid I will have to kill, Howard," he says wearily. "I am given no other choice."

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

Howard takes the water bottle in his hands but doesn't yet drink from it. As thirsty as he is, he still feels the nausea of panic in his gut, and the idea of swallowing is hard. He hears the way Sigma's response is measured, holding back while divulging, and wonders if he's done something wrong. The idea of another ally turning on him makes him shiver, and he hunches more into himself as he listens.

"That makes sense." Howard's a big fan of rationalizing, and a good portion of his time spent in bed breathing into his pillow has been spent trying to explain to himself why it isn't his fault that Draco Malfoy and Alpha died in the last arena. It was their fault, for attacking first, when he was only stealing. He only meant to steal...

He chews at his lower lip again. It bleeds, but he doesn't dare wipe or lick it. "So you're going to play to win?"

[futilecycle]

It is Sigma's turn to become nervous. He does not want to lie to the boy, but telling the truth risks being overheard. It is observing Howard's unease that decides it for Sigma. He knows Howard's sense of security can not take another blow of betrayal, and it is obvious to Sigma that Howard came here to be comforted.

"Not for myself," he says cryptically. "There is someone I want to win." He looks at Howard pleadingly to stop this line of questioning, to tell him he has said too much already. But it is clear from his expression that the person Sigma has chosen is not Howard.

"I do not wish for this to change our alliance," he quickly reassures him. "I will still have your back - and Eponine's. I swear it."

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

Howard wasn't expecting Sigma to be rooting for him at all, really, but it still stings. He knows, logically, that he and Sigma haven't known each other very long, that the camaraderie forged by the cold and hunger don't extend to the warm luxury of the Capitol. And he knows that the world rarely - that the world never - hands out shelter and protection with one hand without holding a lit match in the other.

But Sigma's reassurances still fall flat. Howard looks down at the water bottle and forces himself to take a tiny sip, reprieving himself from that line of conversation. He looks like he's trying not to gag on it.

"Right." If Sigma wants to let it drop, Howard will let it drop. "I'll have your back too, but I'm not...I mean, if you're going to shaft me for whoever you really want to win, at least give me a chance to run, alright? At least give me that."

[futilecycle]

"Howard-" Sigma had been ready to promise he would not hurt his ally under any circumstances, but a chilling thought stopped him. If it came down to Howard and Kyle, the choice was obvious. He nodded gravely. "The chances of that happening are extremely slim, Howard. But, yes. It is a promise."

With a sigh, Sigma glanced to the carpet. He had warned Howard in order to make him aware, in hopes that it would protect him. Sigma planned to threaten a particularly powerful tribute, and it could put Howard at risk if he was not careful. Now he was wondering if he had destroyed what may have eventually been a friendship. The Capitol certainly had a way of putting you under their thumb...

"...Speaking of the girl. How is she?"

[iselldrugstothecommunity]

He nods. He's grateful for the honesty, rather than denying that the worst-case scenario could happen. That would have severed whatever trust they've been carefully braiding together entirely.

"She's, um. She's okay. The Capitol is..." He takes another sip from the water bottle. "It's not easy for me and her. People like us."

By which he doesn't mean Tributes, but street rats. There's a special set of challenges for them, ones where they feel more under the microscope than others, where their neuroses bloom into ways that get dismissed not as typical Tribute fare but as uncouth, ill-mannered, dirty.

"She's afraid she'll go to jail because she got drunk or something and made out with a chair," Howard says in a deadpan, then laughs weakly, then looks guilty for laughing, because he is, in fact, taking it seriously. "But she's okay, I think. She's alive, that's the important thing. That's always the important thing, right?"

He sounds as if he really wants to believe the last statement.