thecapitol | [CLOSED] I made my bed, I dug my grave.

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[CLOSED] I made my bed, I dug my grave.

WHO | Sigma and Quintus
WHAT | A traitor has been turned in.
WHEN | After Terezi's interrogation.
WHERE | At the Peacekeeper's Headquarters.
WARNINGS/NOTES | To be added.

Sigma wondered if the chill at work was not perceived, the day they came for him.

When the Capitol knocked, one ignored them on penalty of death. Sigma finds Peacekeepers outside his door in the dead of night and his heart drops into his stomach. There had, indeed, been a pointing of fingers. It had just happened later than the good Doctor anticipated.

He lets them in as one would welcome a friend, asks if he might feed his cat before he goes, and leaves without resistance - but not before being cuffed quickly and without apology. Perhaps they remembered his first and only lapse in judgement, when they had taken Diana from him. Perhaps there would be no more second chances.

He is brought to their headquarters, locked inside an unnaturally clean room and left with his terror long enough to panic. Keeping his breath even, he straightens his back against the chair as if it were rigged to snap shut. He remembers how wet hair had clung to his son's face at the poolside once and asks himself if this was worth it. He wonders where it was in the long chain of his mistakes where he had squandered the Initiate's sacrifice.

When Quintus appears Sigma offers him a cool smile, lifting his cuffed hands as though in greeting. One misstep stood between him and the end of his immortal life. Could the Capitol know his pulse had already betrayed him?

"I do not believe the restraints were necessary. I would have followed willingly and without such a scene." Dignity was the last thing Sigma Klim had and he wished to maintain it. "What can I help you with, Mr. Falxvale?"

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On most occasions, Phi considers herself very good at keeping her emotions on lockdown. On those days, her poker face is on point, and her ability to handle all manner of bullshit without batting an eye is on par with Tibetan monks. At least, that would be her humble opinion.

However, the midnight arrest of Sigma Klim is not "most occasions".

The loud knock on the door rouses Phi from her bedroom, clad in her PJs and half asleep. That is until her eyes lock with the Peacekeepers at the door and she stops in her tracks, turning an alarmed look at Sigma. Her questions are met with vague answers and a request to take care of his cat, to which she almost replied 'Fuck the cat'. But she's been in the Capitol long enough to know that causing a scene in front of the Peacekeepers is a poor decision, and it wouldn't do Sigma any favors for whatever situation he's landed himself in. She agrees to the task and notes his not-quite-promise to be back by morning, and then he's gone.

The next few hours are spent pacing the house and listening to the cat mewl pitifully for its owner. She locks the cat in Sigma's room for a while, but ultimately lets it back out when the crying doesn't stop. At some point, she changes out of her PJs and into street clothes with half a mind to go looking for where they'd taken him--but she vetoes that thought at the last minute with her hand on the doorknob. Even if she did know where they took him, what was she going to do? Bust him out of jail? And where would they go? The pacing resumes.

It's closer to normal morning hours when they come for her. There are no handcuffs for her, and she goes quietly, if only for a chance to finally do something. She doesn't find Sigma, but she is asked about him at length. What kind of person is he? What are his personal beliefs? Has he had any contact with known rebels? Would he be sympathetic to their cause?

Phi answers the questions as best she can--meaning that she answers with as much bullshit Capitolism as she can get away with. It doesn't take a genius to figure out that he's being singled out for something big, and the questions about his loyalty are a huge tip-off. She talks him up as much as she can. He's a stubborn old man, set in his ways. He believes in sacrifice for the greater good, even if that sacrifice came from the people he cared about. He created the Nonary Game to save humanity, so why would he bat an eye at the Hunger Games, when the unity of Panem depended on it? He had placed his own children in the Game, what sympathies do they think could a bunch of rebels could wager against that kind of determination? Though she doesn't outright include herself in that sentiment, she lets that assumption linger without clarification.

In short, Phi milks it for all she's worth; and in the end they thank her for her time and send her on her way. She heads back to their shared living space to feed the cat and pace some more.

He isn't sure who or what saved his life last night, but as Sigma makes the long walk from his escort's car to the front hall early the next afternoon, it sobers him to think that the last of his luck has run dry.

In light of the investigation he's been given a 'reprieve' from work for several days - a suspension, in other words - as his belongings and personal communications are sorted with strict instructions not to move. He was to understand that doing so would be a death sentence not only for himself, but for Phi, as well. Sigma is not concerned over what they will find. A certain AI ensured, with his annihilation, that his masters would not be found guilty.

Sigma can still feel his heart hammering in his chest as he reaches the door, his seventy years caught up with him over a sleepless night. Pale skin like ash, he wipes the sweat from his forehead, massages his cheeks until they have color, and tries to breathe as though he hadn't lived half a day of panic. Prepared as he'll ever be to face Phi, he releases the security locks and makes his way inside. In spite of the hell he feels, he wonders if he might be dreaming.

"...I'm home."

It may be the first time he's said that phrase since adolescence, and it strikes him just how grateful he is to be able to speak it.

The sound of the door opening has Phi's heart leaping into her throat. She doesn't know who it might be. One on hand, it could be Sigma. On the other, it could be another round of Peacekeepers. Maybe this time, they won't ask so nicely for her to come along.

But the sound of Sigma's voice has a surge of relief flowing through her. A second later, as the words register, she lets out the breath she had been holding a moment ago. Tension eases, but her relief doesn't last long. Anger rushes in to take it's place, fueled by the worry that had been gripping her for the past several hours. She doesn't know if she should be mad at Sigma or not, but he certainly did a good job of scaring the hell out of her.

She waits until the door is shut to approach him, still wearing the clothes that she had pulled on last night. It doesn't look like she's slept much either, and her initial question is as eloquent as always:

"What the hell, Sigma?"

At the end of all that, he thinks he might deserve an are you okay? A simple I made lunch, at the very least. He wouldn't object to a little swimsuit time either, but in his old age, those sort of things have become pipe dreams. "Good afternoon to you, too, Phi." He doesn't have the energy to play-fight with her and goes about his routine - hanging up his coat, removing his gloves, petting his screaming cat. It was frustrating to be caught in an argument where he could not justify himself to his best friend. Rather, it was frustrating to be caught.

None of this means he isn't thrilled to see her. Though his face is pale and the wrinkles beneath his eyes are almost black, he gives her an affectionate once-over from his position petting Nye. She seemed completely unharmed, not a bruise on her body nor a hair out of place. He realizes with a start that he hasn't felt so relieved since their reunion at the Test Site and turns his attention back to the floor, hoping she hadn't noticed.

"I was called in for a job evaluation. I apologize that it went later than we anticipated." He hopes he has been transparent enough, for he wouldn't put it past the Capitol to hold deadly business meetings when it came to their Gamemaking staff.

Job evaluation. Is that what he's calling it? It's a cleverly roundabout way of dismissing the severity of what just happened, but Phi isn't fooled. The turn of phrase only serves to make Phi miss the Sigma that she remembers. He wouldn't have put it so finely, couching it in words with double meanings like some kind of secret to be kept. But that look that he gives her smacks a little more of that bygone Sigma. It's hard not to think that it's some effort to protect her--shielding her from the harsh reality of the trouble he's in.

"I'm aware of what it was about, Sigma. They called me in to vouch for you." In not quite as many words, but she understood the situation she was in better than he seemed to think she did. She has no qualms about smashing that illusion for him. She doesn't want his protection if it means staying in the dark while his life hangs in the balance.

What she wants to know is if there will be more of these. Does she have a reason to be concerned? She stares him down, some of the anger easing from her expression, but not being replaced by anything else. She deserves answers, after all the worry he put her through; but she isn't stupid enough to demand them out in the open. Still, she doesn't know if there's anything he can tell her, given the Big Brother-style surveillance that the Capitol employs, and that's frustrating all on its own.

"Are there going to be more? Or was that it?"

Though he can sense her eyes on him, he will not look at her, still bent over the floor. Sigma stiffens, terror working its way from his heart to his bones. They took Phi. They questioned her. His eyes narrow with a darkness that appeared in him only in the worst of times - a darkness that Phi has never seen. At any time they pleased they could have snuffed out the life of the last good thing he had left. His sigh rattles - an angry hiss from a pain that can not be seen. He shakes his head heavily. He hopes the camera might believe that he is disappointed in her.

What can he say that won't send Phi to sleep with the rest of his family? If it was the truth she wanted from him, she would get more than she bargained for. He stands, now, meeting her gaze but watching somewhere beyond her. "No. There won't be more." He can say so with conviction, because he has decided the long con is over for now. It could not be allowed to go on with Phi and Luna in the line of sight. He would bide his time until it was only a gun between him and the fall of the Capitol. "It seems a more active role in this war may be the thing to convince them. So be it. I am going to fight for the Capitol and demonstrate my allegiance." If he'd fallen out of favour, then the game was over. There would be no more second chances for a rogue Gamemaker.

It would be a lie to say that Phi isn't taken aback by the intensity of Sigma's stare. The darkness she finds there is the furthest thing from Sigma that she's seen so far. It's jarring in way, like watching reality warp right in front of her eyes. To have that look sent in her direction leave her wordless for a moment.

It dawns on her that his expression isn't meant for her. He stares at her, but he sees something else--something that has his determination held with rapt attention. What that something is, she's not sure. He pledges his allegiance to the Capitol, and that sits unwell in her mind. Does he really mean that? Or is it another persona that he's pulling on? All she knows is that she doesn't want declarations of loyalty. She wants to know what's going on.

Her momentary surprise and alarm turn to barely visible disappointment before shifting to her usual expression of disinterest. She moves past him, headed for the kitchen. "If you say so." She raids the cupboards more for something to do than any desire to eat. "If you need me to bail you out again, you know where I am."

Once again this was not the support he had wanted. Sigma's chest tightens as he watches her go, knowing her turning her back was not dissimilar to walking out of his life. She would not be the first nor the last. For the first time since her betrayal, he has the impression that she doesn't understand him... and that could hardly be considered her fault. Sigma had not once made his intentions clear and it was cold of him to expect her to deduce it herself.

He follows her into the kitchen awkwardly, boots still on, at a loss for what to say or do. He watches in silence a moment, Phi floating around the room in slow-motion, there, but not with him. If he misspoke they were both dead, but if he let things continue at this pace, he would lose the last thing he had regardless. He thinks to consider what Phi would do in his shoes. When he decides that she would make a leap of faith to include him in her plot, the choice is made. He has already begun speaking.

"Phi..." The anger has drained from him and he has lowered his voice to a dead rumble. All he knows now is exhaustion. "You must be as tired as I am. ...Why don't we go out to eat? Have something... made for us." It was the start of setting things right, but he has an inkling that the Capitol would not make it easy - he had already sworn not to move from his home. He watches her, eye wide, pleading. They would need to make haste.

Edited 2016-03-16 21:53 (UTC)

Phi doesn't know of any promises made already. All she knows is that Sigma says her name, and she turns to look back at him. He looks a world different than he did a moment ago, not dark and angry but tired and old. Like with some small concession he had aged a span of ten years. She's caught off guard by the look that he gives her, as if he thinks she might have the capacity to say no. She wonders if she should tell him that the begging isn't necessary, even as she's already answering his question.

"Sure. I don't feel like cooking anyway." The cabinet doors are shut, and she's moving out of the kitchen. There's a small urge to give him a look or to touch his arm, something to convey the feelings of sympathy and concern that she's finding difficult to express. But in the end, she bottles that, too.

She's already dressed, and she doesn't care to change her clothes again, so she only has her jacket to grab from where she had tossed it over the arm of the couch. "Lead the way."

Though he's relieved to find he has been pitied, the worst of Sigma's anxieties have only just begun. The instant Phi is next to him he shoves open the door, hands shaking, cybernetic precision breaking down as his strength is spent. He needs to sleep, but much more than that, he needs Phi on his side. They wouldn't be long. There wouldn't even be time to call for a driver.

Leaving his coat behind in his haste, he's down the path like a man possessed, hoping it isn't too soon for the Peacekeeper trucks to turn around and catch him. Once he hits the sidewalk he carries himself as fast as he can without running, spending more time looking over his shoulder at Phi than watching where he is going. She cannot know their destination, nor the reason for his terror, lest he be arrested on arrival.

When they do reach the Speakeasy, the old man is almost too winded to talk. There's certainly no room to joke, and it's with complete sincerity that he holds the door open for her.

"...Come. Consider it my treat."

It's possibly the least characteristic statement he's made since her arrival.

Edited 2016-04-25 00:59 (UTC)

Being a good deal shorter than him, Phi has to nearly run in order to keep pace with Sigma. She doesn't understand the sudden reason for his haste, and that uncertainty is alarming in itself. What makes it worse is the way that he keeps glancing back at her, convincing her that she has every reason to be paranoid. He's running from something, and she's aware of what the obvious answer is.

"Sigma? What's going on?" She doesn't like this, but she doesn't have any choice but to keep hurrying after him. If she stops... She's not sure what will happen, but she gets the feeling that she won't like it. When they finally stop in front of the Speakeasy, she's not sure where their real destination is supposed to be, but she knows it can't be this. She stands out of breath, waiting for an explanation with wide eyes.

It's when he holds the door open for her that she realizes he really meant to take her here. "What?" Who was this and what had they done with Sigma? There was no way he would invite her to a place like this... But there's still a sense of urgency, so despite the confusion clearly written on her face, she hesitantly enters the establishment at his request.

Eventually, this is going to start making sense. It had better.

He's grateful that Phi has the sense to hold her tongue. "Hurry and take a seat," he gestures towards a table at the back as he follows Phi in, transitioning it into a wave to get the bartender's attention. He wasn't a regular and didn't know how the establishment ran, but was certain they wouldn't ignore the whim of a Gamemaker. This was fortunate, for they had mere minutes remaining.

As they find their table he practically throws himself onto a chair, credit card brandished to indicate he would tip well for fast service. "I don't have time to argue with you, so pick a drink you think you can finish quickly." He drags a hand down his face, drawing out deep wrinkles in his skin. He lowers his voice: "Don't think I like it, but I can make up a more convincing story if you drink."

Edited 2016-05-17 22:29 (UTC)

Normally when offered the choice of picking her drink, Phi would easily reach for the most pricey and alcoholic one that she felt she could manage. She knows her liquor well enough that she knows what she can tolerate, but with everything that's happened lately, she's not so sure that she wants to end up roaring drunk right at this moment.

Her choice is much tamer than Sigma might have expected: Just a fruity cocktail drink that looks like it might significantly buzz a girl her size, but looks can be deceiving. She slides her choice over to him, one finger pinning down the drink on the menu.

"You realize I'm pretty close to twenty-one by this point anyway, don't you?" Not that numbers really matter right now, but the banter feels more natural right now than being pulled into a dive like this by her straight-laced ~~father~~ friend. She doesn't let the concern show on her face--at least not as much as it did outside, but that doesn't mean it's not there.

"Are you going to tell me what's gotten into you?" Does it have something to do with your arrest? she wants to ask, but that feels a little too straightforward to voice, even back here with the din of the speakeasy surrounding them.

Sigma doesn't seem to notice what Phi has decided, his thoughts are somewhere else. "We'll have to celebrate, then," he answers fakely, making a point of being overheard as someone comes to take their order. Sigma looks directly at them without seeing, rattling off Phi's cocktail and his whiskey drink, smiling a manufactured smile. As soon as the waiter is gone it vanishes, and he stares blankly at his friend. There isn't an ounce of joy left in his soul.

He lowers his voice to a growl so they can speak without hunching together. "I will need to be blunt. I told the Peacekeepers I would not leave my home. It has been bugged with cameras from the start, and they'll want to be listening..." His organic pupil bores gravely into Phi - he trusts her with the truth, but an ounce of indiscretion will be the end of them both. Maybe his clothes have been bugged, too. Maybe he's already dead. But would any of this have mattered without Phi on his team?

May as well get it all out there. There was already no going back. "I have been a mole for the Rebellion for almost a year, now. The Arena breach was a scheme of my design." He knows he's giving himself too much credit on that front - if he'd thrown his scheme into the void and no one had been waiting to catch it, there would have been no need for Blickwinkel to die, no need for a mole at all. But nevermind. For the sake of his explanation, it was easier this way. "It was going well until Quintus Falxvale figured me out. It was his word against mine-" He rests his cheek in his palm and lowers his elbow onto the table- "Until it was yours, too. I don't know if it has been enough. I am certain they are still deliberating on how to quietly 'retire' me. But that's not what's important right now..."

Now his grave, exhausted expression warps into desperation - the hopeful kind Phi might be familiar with, too optimistic to survive. "I need you to understand that there is a reason for everything I have done and everything I am about to do. I may have to lie low for some time, but these people will run themselves into extinction with the Capitol in power. I can't let that happen..." There's an unsaid 'again,' but it hangs in the air. His eye flickers away from her - he has noticed that someone is returning with their drinks. He raises his voice: "I have your future to think about, too."

Sigma seizes his whiskey the moment it touches the table and lifts it to his chest, common etiquette for high ranking members of the Capitol. Then he raises his glass until Phi is obscured from his sight, the circular cube cracking slowly through the centre. In earshot of bar staff, he isn't Sigma Klim. "Happy early birthday, my dear. To many more," the Gamemaker laughs.

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[CLOSED] I made my bed, I dug my grave.

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