thecapitol | [Open] Find my way back

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[Open] Find my way back

Who| Jet and open
What| Jet's going through the motions because that's better than crumbling
Where| Jet's apartment, the training center, the city, just about anywhere you'd want to run into him
When| Roughly four days after the crowning and all through the next week.
Warnings/Notes| Sad cyborgs and cute shenanigans

Jet had been a complete mess when Sam had found him and now, a few days later, he wasn't much better but he was sober. That was an improvement. Every time he thought about what kind of person he'd turned into, avoiding his friends and family, drowning himself in a bottle like his father, he felt sick to his stomach. But he hadn't touched alcohol in days and he didn't think he'd ever touch it again for the rest of his life. This meant he had some free time now that he wasn't spending it drinking, so the hunt for something to distract himself began.

The Apartment) Those first few days were mostly spent with him trying to talk himself into leaving the apartment and not succeeding very well, but he took steps. He showered, brushed his hair (forgoing the hair gel) and actually got dressed. And that was about all he could claim to have accomplished that day. The next, he managed to do the same and then add straightening up the apartment to his list of accomplishments. It wasn't much, but it was more than he'd been doing before. The greatest accomplishment over all of these days was the fact he left the door unlocked for the first time since he'd woken up in the Capitol. It wasn't an open door, but it wasn't a barred one either.

The City and Park) Once Jet had managed to venture outside of his apartment, he decided to try and go for a walk out in the city (during the daylight hours for once). The hustle and bustle was soothing in it's familiarity, even if the people around him were just as ridiculous and irritating as before. He soon found the 'distractions' he could find there weren't distracting enough, they were all food and clothes and entertainment and things too shallow to hold his attention. The Capitol was too shallow. So the next day, he turned to running and running became what he did every early morning, waking up at hours that would have impressed Albert and taking off the minute he was outside. He'd run as fast as his cybernetic legs could take him and keep going even once his organic lungs burned and ached in protest. It was a distraction and it became his new addiction.

The Training Center) The running could only last so long before he'd have to admit his lungs had limits he was close to breaking and had to stop. Usually, this meant retreating back up to the apartment and showering and sleeping for however long he'd sleep. But once he woke up, he'd be faced with an empty room and a full head and nothing to do. This lead him to the training center where he was left with the options of painting the walls for the hundredth time (surly someone would learn some day and simply take the paints out. Until then, he'd take advantage of their stupidity) or actually training. Depending on the day and hour, he could be found doing either.

When he painted, he was careful to avoid faces and stuck to inanimate objects and animals, some of them from home and some of them from around the Capitol itself. Sometimes he didn't paint anything specific at all and simply chose to smear paint along the wall for the hell of it. It was a healthier distraction. When he trained, it was with all kinds of weapons. He'd practice his archery and marksmanship for as long as he could before the memories of who taught him how to use it caught up with him and made him stop. Then it'd be on to knives and slicing up programmed enemies, his movements more often than not as graceful as a dance. He'd occasionally try his luck at throwing the knives instead of fighting with them with mixed results and even picked up a sword when he thought to, though it was clear in his movements and form that he was still learning. This was probably when he felt most open to connecting with others again. At least here he didn't avoid eye contact; fighting wasn't a distraction, it was a comfort.

The Downstairs Kitchens) Approximately two and a half weeks after he'd woken up to an empty apartment, Jet felt a twisting in his stomach he almost didn't recognize, it wasn't a feeling he'd had in so long, even before the arena's end. He was hungry. This wasn't the insatiable appetite he used to have, the one that often made Albert comment about how Jet would eat them out of house and home some day, but it existed and that was new. He'd eaten in the past few weeks, but sparsely and only the couple bites it took to make him feel sick. This time the idea of food actually seemed pleasant and a few things came to mind that Jet realized he'd probably be able and willing to finish. Of course, it also happened to be after midnight.

Jet wrapped himself in a robe that was too big across his shoulders but a bit too short in the sleeves for him and snuck his way downstairs. Well, it wasn't really sneaking, he didn't anticipate running into anyone, but he moved silently anyway. Once he was in the downstairs kitchens, he began rummaging through the supplies for something he could sling together that wouldn't end in setting off the fire alarms.

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"Gee, I wonder why," Leo shot back with a slightly menacing grin. He might not be as tall as some (if not most) of his Tributes but he was an absolute terror when it came to the Training Center and devoted to his loyalties in District 2. He was not a Capitolite and damn proud of it, no matter what certain coworkers would have him think otherwise. Born from the stone and reliable as such. "Though you could sell it as a publicity stunt, might net you some D2 sponsors while we're at it."

The coach nodded approvingly at every shot, "Definitely a marksman, and adaptable to boot." Jet was the Tribute he'd try to push towards the Sponsors, the man had a style that not many had, even those Candidates back home.

"I prefer hand to hand combat myself," Leo admitted, twirling the knife in his hand, "Not much for the theatrics, get in, get the kill, and get out. Might not be as flashy as the District 1 tributes but it gets the job done."

In three swift jabs, the coach targeted the carotid and both femoral arteries. He does grab a nearby spear. "But if I were to pick a weapon, I'd pick this. Might be unwieldy but it's got distance between you and the opponent." And for a man whose stature wasn't the best, Leonidas knew that if getting too close wasn't an option, then disabling was the way to go.

Jet watched and was noticeably impressed by the display. At least Leo was definitely not the 'all talk no action' type, Jet could appreciate that. He could also appreciate the lack of BS in Leo's attitude and words, unlike some of the mentors and prep teams. Leo and Torin had that in common and it definitely lent to Jet respecting them more.

When he picks up the spear, there's a small thread of anxiety mixed with anger that slips through him, but he quickly dismisses it. It wasn't Leo's fault Jet had a less than favorable association to spears. He puts the bow and quiver away and crosses his arms loosely to watch any demonstration Leo wanted to give.

"I can't remember the timing of when you showed up, but there used to be a tribute in 2 by the name of Nasir. Guy was a real bastard, threw hot oil in my eyes one of the arenas, but he wielded a spear too." He was also short, but Jet kept that to himself. Of course, depending on how attentive Leo had been to those games, he might already know that bit.

"It was a bitch to fight against, especially since the best I can do with one is to throw it or hit people with it like it's just a stick." He'd only gotten through the spear's reach by throwing his knife at Nasir, but if the guy hadn't run, Jet would've been doomed for sure.

Leo wielded the spear with a sort of grace that came with years, as if the long reach was part of his arm. Vital areas would be punctured with a quick jab and turn to not only free it from the flesh, but also wreck the surrounding tissue. "That was before I came around, or I'd call him out on wasting resources and penalized him for harming a fellow District 2 Tribute. I don't tolerate that shit," that last word was emphasized with the spear going through the dummy's right eye, obliterating the imaginary opponent. A kick to the dummy's chest was needed to pry it out of that one.

"District unity is key, or else...well, we already saw the mess District 7 unleashed-"

One wrong step and Leo found himself hissing in pain and using the spear as a cane, "G-goddammit." That last action made his knee act up, even with the internal prosthetic keeping it structurally sound.

"Yeah, got you're point." Leo's moves were pretty impressive, for sure, Jet didn't doubt he meant what he said.

When Leo hissed and noticeably leaned on his spear, Jet stepped closer, hands out stretched as though to offer support, though he didn't make actual contact. He didn't know Leo that well, he might not take kindly to the offer. Better to let the help be accepted than just give it without warning.

"You alright? What's wrong?"

Leo may be a proud man but the level of pain his little mishap caused, there's no shame in grabbing Jet's hand to stabilize himself. "Kneecap's acting up, pushed it too far," he grunted and sat down on the nearest chair. "Get me the first aid kit, there should be a brace around here."

Screw politeness, he had to put his knee back in place at this rate. A large scar can be seen, where the surgeons had worked on to rebuild the bone but being from D2 meant it wasn't a full restore. His father, Rafael, could not afford the Capitol's treatments and bore the shame of not doing enough for his would-be Tribute.

Jet isn't bothered by the bluntness of the 'request' and helps Leo to the nearest chair before moving to get the first aid kit. He'd needed it a few times in the past, so it wasn't too hard to find.

When he came back, he opened it and offered it's contents over for Leo to look through.

"What happened to it?" Maybe it wasn't polite to ask, but Jet wasn't the most polite sometimes either.

As Leo tore the kit apart, he answered Jet's question, speaking between grinding teeth and strain,

"Shattered by training injury when I was twelve. I was on the road to be one of the District Tributes when my sparring partner landed the blow. My father couldn't afford the Capitol's treatment so we had to settle for what District 2 had." He paused for a moment,

"He never lives down that he couldn't make the money to restore me in time. Even after I forgave him."

Rafael was a loyal man to the Capitol but because Leo was too young, too fresh-faced then, there were no sponsors to back him up. But the way the coach spoke, he never once blamed his father for it. "They did the best they could and now you have me as your coach."

That sucked, like some big name baseball player having to quit for an injury...except it wasn't a game of life or death baseball players played.

"Better outcome than going on to compete and risk your life. We might not have any coach in that case." It wasn't defiance or even a shot against the Capitol in Jet's opinion, just pure fact. If his knee hadn't been damaged, Leo might have gone on to be a tribute and died anyway.

"But you're working for the Capitol now, right? Can't you get it fixed better here?"

"Pre-existing conditions make it harder to repair, and this technology is only good for recent injuries," Leo was opening up, little by little to Jet but an understandable snarl slipped at the thought of missing his chance.

"I could have been a mentor," he growled before a sound erupted from his knee. "But then you'd be right: I would not have been here to meet the Tributes I am prepping to fight." A mixed bag really.

Jet felt bad for him, he could hear the anger in Leo's voice and how this had clearly ruined a lot for him, whether Jet agreed with his plans or not. He knew that anger and it was one of the most frustrating things in the world.

Of course, thinking about it brought him back to the idea that the reason he was frustrated was that Leo had wanted to participate in the Games. That part he didn't get. How could someone look forward to something like that and be disappointed they'd lost their shot at death when they lost their ambition? Unless they had some kind of death wish, which might not surprise Jet as much as he'd like it to, but maybe that wasn't it either.

Maybe it had more to do with the fact D2 children went into a kind of 'tribute school' or something, maybe it had more to do with the idea that this was what he'd been meant to do and having that taken away from him was what caused the frustration. If you couldn't do what you were good at, then what good were you beyond that? But still.

"Wasn't there ever something else you wanted to do? Something beyond The Games?" He thought back to Torin's mechanical dinosaurs.

The question Jet put out was one that Leo heard many times before by Capitolites who seemed to have nothing but contempt for his presence. As if they were dealing with a leper than a human being from the districts, a virus...

"To be chosen as a candidate to become a Tribute is the biggest honor a family can have in District 2, I was raised in this. This was my everything-And fate broke its' promise to me."

The language was laced with venom, not with Jet, but with the way the world tried to break him down.

"There's not a lot of honor in death. At least, it certainly isn't worth the dirt you'd be buried in at that point." He shrugged. "You'd be dead and none of it would matter anymore. It'd just be a waste."

He ran a hand through his hair. He wasn't trying to imply Leo would have definitely died, but the odds definitely wouldn't have been good.

"I am sorry, though, that you feel cheated. That roman 'die with honor' crap just never made much sense to me. It makes more sense to live with honor, at least then you can make the best of life with it and maybe leave a mark bigger than blood in the grass when you go."

The cyborg had a point that even Leonidas couldn't deny was valid: he could have died. With honor, yes, and he makes no attempts at hiding that disdain to offworlders. He's pretty sure he put that forward quite well the first time they met.

"You must have heard many of my lot in your world then," he came to that conclusion, "People who died in old fashioned wars...have you told them that?"

"Sorta. There were two major wars in my time, one of 'em I was born at the very end of and the other I never it's end. There were lots of people who talked about 'honor of this or that' after the Big One, but a lot of them had built it up in their heads or never saw the front lines themselves. The ones who're there always told me about how terrible it all was. That second war, I was about ten when it started and timelines get complicated after that, but there wasn't a whole lot of grandeur around it. Like people'd realized they were wrong from before. Or maybe the cause just wasn't as 'worthwhile.'"

Even once he'd woken twenty years after the end of the Vietnam war, he'd heard the same thing: World War II was grandiose, Vietnam...less so.

"I was too young to really talk to anyone about them, but it's something I learned for myself. There's a whole lot of other things better than honor that are worth dying for."

"Like your husband? Was he worth dying for? You two were allies in your world, were you?" No harm or ill will came from Leonidas, he was trying to peg down just what made the man think.

Talking with Jet made the once rabid Career think more about his legacy. Had he been in the Games, there would have been another Victor, not him. The odds were always up for grabs and in that Arena, D2 lost terribly.

There was a catch in Jet's breathing that gave away his surprise and his eyes fell away from the coach for a moment. The barb that had been lodged in his chest the past few weeks twisted painfully, but he kept breathing and regained that calm he'd had a moment before.

"Yes. I've died for him before and I would have again. But I'll live for him too, cause I know that's what he'd want." Even if, on some days, that felt like the hardest thing he could imagine doing.

"I've died for a cause before, twice actually, but both of those times, it was with someone I cared about in mind. Family is always worth dying for."

He looked up again. "Don't you have anyone like that?"

That question hit something Leo had no experience of his own, or at least to the same level as Jet did for someone outside of family. There wasn't much to get attached to when those dates were only for one night, two at most.

"No, not that I know of. Given a side job I had before all this, fidelity would have been an issue," At least he admitted he was a bastard when it came with relating to others. "There hasn't been a need, my job has made sure I'm not without focus though. I would lay everything down for my family, for their safety."

And yet...Leo would be lying if he didn't want someone out there. Eh, sentimentalism was for the foolish.

"You may not be from my District, only assigned, but I expect you to hold that promise to your husband," he added with a level of respect to that bond.

He caught the underlying meaning in the comment about having a side-job and while his curiosity had him wanting to ask more, he kept silent about it. There were some aspects of Capitolite life Jet knew about through rumors and whispers and he had no interest in learning the details he could guess at.

However, he could understand someone who felt that way for their family, it was a point of similarity between them and one Jet could respect along with Leo's other experiences. Which was why, if it'd been some other coach or mentor or capitolite, Jet wouldn't have responded very well to having his actions and motivations assumed for him, but in this case, it didn't bother him too much.

"I will. If I didn't, I'd be a hypocrite and he wouldn't be very impressed by that."

A rare genuine smile, though small, graced through Leonidas' face, "You truly do love that Albert man, don't you?" That part about sentimentalism being for fools? Well, even the coach allowed himself to be that sort of silly every now and again.

He briefly wondered if Calendius had ever managed to bond with their Tributes, to get to know them past the nutritional charts and exercise routines. It was his job after all...but then Cora realized that he had to make this all on his own.

Correction: with the offworld tributes that Snow brought in. He only wished they were as professional as Jet.

Using the spear as his cane one more time, Leo stood up and nodded slightly to the android, "I'll get this tended at the Infirmary. Thanks for helping me."

[[shall we wrap up here?]]

Normally, something like that would have Jet's cheeks turning shades of red and send him sputtering. But with Albert gone...there didn't feel like a reason to be embarrassed about what was true. He did love Albert, more than anything.

He nodded when Leo gave his thanks and offered a small "Don't worry about it." In return, then stepped aside to let the coach through. Even if he went back to his training, it was with a slightly clearer head or, rather, one full of things that weren't just grief. He sent a silent mental thanks to Leo for that one.

[[Sounds good!]]

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[Open] Find my way back

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