Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was sunny.

That was the first thing Dick registered, before he even fully realized he was awake. The sun was sipping through curtainless windows. There was no way to hide from the light behind his lids closed shut. Maybe he could turn on the other side, but it would take too much effort and would just destroy the peace he was at. The mattress might have been hard, the springs digging into his back, but he was comfortable, maybe even warm for the first time in months. The blanket he way laying under was thin, and it was scratchy. Each night he was debating sacrificing what little protection it gave him in favour of avoiding its irritation. Today, it even seemed worth it. The air was calm, the atmosphere lazy, it would be a perfect day to just lay, basking in the sun.

It was never sunny in Eight.

Dick groaned, breaking away from the idealistic illusion. The gods, or whatever people believed in these days, must hate him. It seemed like a cruel joke, the way this was the day they chose to change it up from the usual gloom that seemed oh so ever present most days. Maybe they wanted to be poetic — with their literal calm before the storm. No one could deny them the dramatism, although he would prefer not having to play the main role in a tragedy. 

He gave up on sleep. The few minutes he spent lazing in it were probably too much already. A cold shiver went through his body as his feet touched the floor. He didn’t let it stop him, not giving it more than half a thought, absent minded rubbing his arms the closest to recognition it would get. Apparently warm air wasn’t enough to stop the goosebumps, who would have guessed?

The corridors were empty, Dick found after leaving his room. The silence was unnerving, anyone could figure something was happening because of it. He passed the hallways, he spent the last few months haunting, feeling more like a ghost than ever before. There was a heaviness in his stomach, stiffness to his limbs. He hardly felt like a real person at the moment. He longed for a feeling of nostalgia, the sentimentality that only came from leaving a piece of your heart behind.

His eyes were tracking every single movement, muscles tired of tensing at any sound. Dick knew, logically, that this day was different. No one would bother him today, they all succumbed to their own worries. He would scoff, a small amused smile would make its way onto his lips. He would do that, but his own worries unabled it.

As soon as he stepped outside, he barely managed to contain a cough. Most of the district lived from working at the factories. They felt like a giant shadow looming over everyone, never stopping, never resting. They allowed people to buy food, while also slowly killing everyone with air pollution. It’s been months, yet Dick still couldn’t get used to the sharpness attacking his throat. Funny, how toxic relationships worked, even funnier how said toxic relationship was breathing. You choke, welcoming death into your body, just to buy yourself some time.

He was impressed by those people greeting it like an old friend. Dick was an acrobat, he was learning how to take care of his body, since before he could walk properly. He knew how to stretch, how to warm up his muscles so they wouldn’t get unnecessarily injured, he knew how to balance and was constantly aware of the state his body was in. He couldn’t accept the air being his enemy, now when he belonged in it, not when proper inhales and exhales were such crucial parts of the act.

He took a deep breath, ignoring the wrongness that filled him. 

He just couldn’t focus on it. On the way his eyes teared, and his lungs protested. He let his parents' teachings wash over him. His heart ached with guilt and grief, his head hurt from the alarm bells screaming wrong wrong wrong at him. He shoved it all down. He didn’t have time to freak out. He probably would never have the time, but he knew it, he was okay with it. Dick knew he would die ever since his parents fell.

So he was aware of it, had been preparing for it, and now he was ready. Simple as that.

People have already started filling the square. He gave himself one additional minute to calm his mind.

Circus was more than just cool tricks. It was a performance, an act, that relied on their ability to control the atmosphere, to create an experience for the viewers that was unmatched by anything they have ever seen. The stage fright had no place there, not when you needed all your confidence to avoid falling to your death. The secret, that many amateurs wouldn’t get, was that the success depended on you knowing you would succeed. It wasn’t some magic of friendship, it was the trust in your abilities. Dick didn’t have this problem. He was born in the air, flying more natural to him than walking, and he was always meant to be at the center of the stage. It was where he belonged, in the light of reflectors. 

The scene changed, so did the actors and skills required, but the stakes stayed the same. He knew from the moment he would cross the line, there would be no backing down, that lights wouldn’t leave him for a second.

His back straightened, head held high. Dick took one step. When the heavens hadn't roared, lightning striking him, he took another one and another. There were no nerves visible left as the boy took his place in line. He was ready for the performance of his life.

It was weird, seeing so many people dressed up, and yet knowing they were completely underdressed. These were the finest clothes the people of District Eight had to offer, and in the Capitol they wouldn’t be good enough to be cloths. No one there would be caught dead wearing them, feeling like death was a mercy in comparison. 

Here they had to manage with what they had. Granted it wasn’t a lot, but it was clean, and mostly without holes. The special occasion outfits, and what was more special than being on national television (and waiting to see if you’re going to be permitted one more year to live). 

Dick regretted having to be there so early. He caught himself reaching for the hem of his shirt a couple of times already, and each time it took great restraint from him to stop from fidgeting. No one was talking. The silence was deafening. Really, how did it manage to be so quiet in an assembly of this size. More kids were still joining, rustle of their clothes, the only sign of their restlessness. Dick was growing crazy. His foot started tapping. He grimaced inwards (his face remained neutral, he was a professional) and tried his best not to glare at the offending limb.

The camera crew was getting ready. They didn’t even try to conceal their presence. Their movements were efficient, but that was everything they had to offer. In the last few minutes, Dick managed to count at least ten sighs, the tired expressions only slightly better than the disgust visible on their faces. He tried not to twitch. They were talking. Not even whispering. Could they not whisper? Or was it just the stark contrast between them and the silence of the masses that made their voices roar above them. He did his best to ignore them, scratch the need for distraction, boredom was better than the growing annoyance settling heavily in his gut and threatening to spill. Dick preferred not to snap this early into the Game, but it was a difficult feat. He tried not to hear that Gary hated his boss, and that in his opinion it was a crime to get assigned to Eight, that Johnny getting to go to District One in his first year on a job was blatant favouritism, and that Emily’s daughter Suzie was watching for the first time, and Bob, her other son, spent the time at his friends’ where they would take bets on who wins, who loses, and she would much rather be with them at home than here, but at least they saw her as a hero for being on the inside. The boy on his left started frantically murmuring ‘I don’t want to die’ while battling tears halfway through Caleb’s rant.

Minutes passed, the crowd only grew and the energy filling the air was borderline tangible. It was weird. Seeing friends squeezing hands, sending each other small smiles before separating. The older teens giving their younger siblings kisses on the foreheads, trying to stay strong for them, while the kids tearfully begged them for comfort they could not promise. Although some of them did, lying through their teeth. Dick knew those were lies. He wished someone cared to give them to him anyway.

There’s the thing. Your body can only work under a certain degree of stress, at some point your mind just checks out. Dick lacked the theoretical knowledge of biology and physiology — what he did have was the experience of it all. So he didn’t know all the whys and hows, the background of what was happening, only the in-life practical approach. 

It didn’t bother him, all those scientific terms. For now Dick was stuck in a state where nothing could really bother him. He was aware of what was happening, in the same way one could be aware of their broken nail until it inevitably catches onto something.

They say you never forget your first Reaping. The dread filling your body, weighing heavily on your bones, threatening to swallow you whole. The deathly silence that occurs when the Escort’s combing through the names. Air charged from the voltage of prayers. 

He thinks someone might have been crying.

He once heard that the worst feeling in this world is standing right next to someone when they realize they’re going to die. To see them frozen shell shocked. To see fear trembling their limbs. To see the moment of realisation in their eyes. To witness them being led away like a lamb to a slaughter while knowing you can’t do anything to help them escape their fate.

Except you could. There’s a rule in this twisted system saying you can volunteer, willingly choose to go in someone’s stead.  So you could do something. Except there’s the part no one says out loud. The relief. The bitter feeling of being happy to see someone plummel to their death, because at least it isn’t you. The sad truth about humans — their selfish desire to survive above anything else.

Dick thought all of it was one giant bullshit. A narrative created by those untouched by the tragedy making it all about themselves. Worse than being a witness was being the condemned.

It was his first Reaping, chances he would be chosen were supposed to be slim. 

No one cried this time. No one screamed, no one protested or or offered to go instead.

The biggest reaction was relief palpating in the air. People released the breaths they didn’t know they were even holding. Some haven’t yet processed their safety yet. Maybe that knowledge hasn't quite blossomed in their minds, but their bodies knew. He could see it in the dropped tension, the relaxed stances they took. They just bought themselves another year, they should be glad.

He could imagine the eldest, currently looming from the background, were going to celebrate now since they officially aged out, avoiding having their names pulled. It must have been nice. Freeing of sorts. Maybe like finally being able to take a breath after holding it for so long you forgot what air tasted like. They could actually start their lives. Build relationships without worrying the other person or themselves would be sent to the arena. Until they themselves produced children, allowing the cycle to continue.

He took a step forward.

There was an immediate change in the atmosphere. The overbearing relief changed into something more somber. Some people gasped, others turned their heads. No one could bear to look him in the eyes. He could understand it. Logically. He was twelve, not a common age for the Tributes, and it might have been a while since Eight had gotten one. He could acknowledge that objectively he wasn’t a sight to behold. Not that he let it stop him.

If Richard Grayson was anything, he was a performer. 

Dick straightened up, held his head high and with all the confidence he could muster, he walked on the scene. The crowd stared at his back, their heaviness threatening to weigh him down. He ignored them all. Despite their obvious discomfort, no one dared to say a word. No one volunteered. Not that he expected otherwise. 

The escort was a tall man, towering over everyone. The man’s eyes looked sad, almost pitying him. Dick held his gaze. Messenger or not, he wouldn't forget his face. The image they were painting was absurd, Dick looked ridiculously small next to the escort, even younger than he was. He shook the hand of the girl tribute and gave her a nod – it was all he had to offer, a recognition of some sorts. 

He didn’t smile for the cameras, keeping his face serious, but not anxious. He wasn't scared. Maybe it was the fact he had been picked for a slaughter hasn't sunk in yet, or maybe it's just been sinking for the past year ever since the rope snapped and his parents fell to their deaths. Maybe a part of him died alongside them and the rest wasn't afraid to follow.

They didn’t stay there much longer than that, before he knew it, he was being escorted by the peacekeepers to the room where he was supposed to have his last goodbyes.

He slumped in the chair, releasing a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. He was shaking, he realized now. He was on the verge of something, only he wasn’t sure whether what would come out were tears or hysterical laughter. Okay, so maybe he wasn’t as calm as he thought he was. He just hoped- assumed that being reconciled with his faith would allow him to avoid stupid emotions. He knew, ever since his parents’ deaths and him being stripped away of everyone he ever knew and stranded alone in Eight, that they would come back to finish him off. He didn’t have any proof, but the knowledge that would happen was stronger than any gut feeling.

He slumped in the chair, releasing a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. He was shaking, he realized now. He was on the verge of something, only he wasn’t sure whether what would come out were tears or hysterical laughter. Okay, so maybe he wasn’t as calm as he thought he was. He just hoped- assumed that being reconciled with his faith would allow him to avoid stupid emotions. He knew, ever since his parents’ deaths and him being stripped away of everyone he ever knew and stranded alone in Eight, that they would come back to finish him off. He didn’t have any proof, but the knowledge that would happen was stronger than any gut feeling.

Dick’s head snapped as the door opened. He didn’t expect anyone to come see him, he haven’t bonded with anyone in his time here, frankly the boys at the center actually seemed to hate him and he couldn’t help but be glad to never see them again. His parents were dead, he didn’t have any family left, so who would come see him.

“Miss Diana”, escaped him, more a gasp than actual words, and it was all the prompting the woman before him needed, to cross the room in pull him in a tight hug. He felt prickling in his eyes. Huh, tears it was. 

She didn’t say anything for a minute, just letting him cling to her as if it were a lifeline. Maybe it was. He didn't know how much he craved comfort. How long has it actually been since someone held him like that.

“I. I don’t. I want-”

What? ‘ I don’t want to die’? He thought he did. He used to lay in bed wanting nothing more than to be with his parents, to join them, to stop existing, maybe wishing he never was born at all. So why was the idea of dying bothering him so much now? 

‘I don’t want to be paraded in front of the whole country as they pretend to get attached to me, feel sad about my death and then proceed to forget all about me not even a day later, when something more interesting happens in the games, as if I didn’t even matter, like I was some silly background character who, honestly, was expected to die. Because it’s all I’m worth. And they’ll put words in my mouth, motivations of my actions. They’ll bend me and twist me until I’m more fictional than a real human being. And in the end, they’ll just throw me away, when they find a better toy to play with’. Maybe he did have more issues with that than he expected.

‘I want my mom’. But she was dead and he was wasn’t a child anymore. He couldn’t be.

“I know, little one”. He believed her somehow, even if he didn’t actually say anything, her sad smile showed him that she actually knew. “I am so sorry, Richard.”

And that, that might have just killed him before the Games even had the chance, sending him through another wave of tears.

“Dick”, he muttered, after having calmed down enough. He got out of her hug, his hands clutching to her arms with all his strength, because he needed for her to understand. He needed someone to know. He hasn’t told anyone, never being close enough to share, but now it was the most important thing in the world. He didn’t want to die without anyone knowing. “My name is Dick.”

Miss Diana looked him right into the eyes, her face serious, not mocking like many people did after learning his preferred nickname. She never made fun of him, never treated him like a dumb kid, young as he might be, but as another human, an equal of sorts. It was the thing that convinced him to her, why he started seeing her as an ally, not an enemy. 

She didn’t get to say anything, before they were interrupted, their three minutes up. 

“Good luck, Dick”, she told him, giving his shoulder a last comforting squeeze, before the Peacekeeper escorted her. And it was so nice, hearing his name from someone else’s mouth for the first time since he lost his home.

No one else came. 

And so Dick curled up in the corner of the room for the last time he could afford to do so. There were no cameras, no people. He was alone.

He was alone.

When they came for him again, to take him on the train and to the Capitol, there were no signs of tears. He was a performer after all and his biggest show of all has officially started.

The clock was counting down.

Six days, sixteen hours and twenty one minutes.

Chapter Text

He should have expected this. Everyone betrays him, he can’t leave his back unprotected, tempting faith and doing nothing but screaming ‘hey, look at me! So defenceless and a perfect way to practice your aim and backstabbing skills, because weren’t they supposed to be allies? Well, if it is war she wants, it will be war she gets. 

Jenny seemed unaffected by the glare he was sending her, she was smiling even, not bothering to hide the curl of her lips, ever so pleased with herself. He grabbed the yoghurt from her plate with a spoon and sent it flying, trajectory perfectly measured. The girl barely managed to blink, not to mention any way of defending herself. He watched with satisfaction as the missile hit its mark, splaying right on her forehead. Dick couldn’t help but giggle, while Jenny seemed to be processing everything in slow motion. Her eyes wide, mouth slightly agape and the yoghurt slowly making its way down her face. He could see the exact moment she caught up — right after the stream passed her eyebrow, but before the big clunk of yoghurt fell onto the table — her expression darkening. If she managed to pull off this expression in the Arena, she might success at making someone piss themselves, in the right circumstances. As they weren’t in the Arena, nothing stopped Dick from laughing as he jumped behind the couch to hide from the rain of cereal Jenny sent flying after him.

“Hey, that’s so disrespectful to perfectly good cereal!” He exclaimed, sounding almost completely outraged, because seriously it was the best food here, with just barely contained hint of amusement, as he risked taking a glance, just to drop down again right after, cereal cluttering on the floor around him.

“You shouldn't have started it then, Grayson”

“Me? You literally took my spoon and started eating my breakfast from my bowl! And I started this?” He could not believe what he was hearing, the audacity, the audacity only a teenage girl could manage was too much for him to handle. He couldn’t bring himself to regret anything, she was literally asking for it, when he leaped from where he was hiding, landing in a superhero pose on the table, devilish grin on his face. And Jenny — poor, innocent, backstabbing Jenny — must have recognized who was the superior predator among the two of them. He could swear, for a moment he saw honest to god fear in her eyes, before she scrambled to her feet trying to get away. It was cute, she thought she could escape him. He grabbed the bowl of strawberries sending missile after missile after the running girl. 

“You’re a beast, Grayson, a literal beast from hell sent here to torment me. What have I ever done to deserve it?” She sounded as if he just insulted her mother, danced on her grave and then proceeded to flirt with her dad at the funeral. Needless to say, he was a bit impressed, by the sheer force of dramatics Jenny was capable of. Must be another teenage girl power and he could respect that.

“Well since you’re asking so nicely, may I please remind yo–” The sound of the door opening efficiently shut his mouth. Both Jenny and him freezing and looking like they’ve just been caught with their hands in a cookie jar. Dick swore mentally. He forgot himself, he was supposed to be prepared, stay vigilant and being seen like this? All hopes of appearing innocent just flew off the table. It was just the train, the consequences weren’t so grave yet, but he should have been better . How could he expect to have a chance surviving the Games if he made such stupid, amatour mistakes. 

Strix’ face looked like they just signed their death sentence. Goodbye, Life, it was nice having you! If he didn’t know the Capitol needed them alive for now, he would seriously worry about not even making it there. He didn’t even notice when Jenny came to stand by him (when did he even get off the table?), the tightness in her face he managed to lift in the last few minutes back with full force, another mistake on his part. Strix’ eyes narrowed as she took in the state of both them and the room they were in, making him flinch despite himself. She projected her observation of the room, making them follow her gaze. He winced. It was a mess. Food everywhere, the floor, furniture, them. Jenny’s hair was a mess, he could make pieces of fruit stuck in it, her clothes completely dishevelled, stains everywhere and he knew he didn’t look much better. He turned his eyes to the floor, looking like a scolded child he was a child and Strix didn’t even say a word. Of course she didn’t need them. Couldn’t have them. The Games took them from her, because her youth, innocence and sense of security weren’t enough. It was never enough. The Games were like a parasite, if they didn’t kill you, they took over every aspect of your life, you were never free of them and there he was, knowing all of this, and still choosing to pursue this path. When the other way was death, there wasn’t much of a choice. 

“We’re sorry” Jenny said quietly and he echoed her words even more quietly. 

The silence was broken once again by the door opening, revealing Clark Kent entering the room. The man stopped right after crossing the threshold — his eyes wide and darting everywhere like he couldn’t choose what required his attention the most.

“Oh my, what a mess!” He exclaimed. As his eyes met Dick’s, his face somehow softened and he sent him, what must have been, a comforting smile. “You should get ready, we’re arriving soon”

Jenny, the traitor she was, only nodded and hurriedly left the room. She probably needed all the time she could get, especially with her long hair, still it didn’t mean she could just leave him alone with Kent and their mentor. Their mentor who, after sending him a sharp look, left as well. He shuffled awkwardly, not knowing what to do. He should take example from them and make himself presentable, first impressions were important after all, but he couldn’t make himself leave. The state of the room was staring at him accusatory. He shouldn’t care. He wasn’t home anymore he didn’t have a home and he was literally about to die in less than a week, so if everything, he should be allowed to do whatever and have the most of the time he had left. He hasn't moved. The shadow of Clark Kent towering over him did absolutely nothing to help. Honestly, what have they fed this guy? With his build he would probably do pretty well in the Games and he wasn’t ugly or anything, so the audience would probably cheer for him, he had the makings of being a fan favourite. Capitol probably mourned the day Kent was born as one of them instead of in the Districts, but he did end up here, didn’t he? A marionette working on the entertainment of the masses, as he was meant to be. Silly, being so close yet so far to-

“Can I help you with something?” The man in question asked, startling Dick. He was so off his game, he wasn’t that distracted normally. What was wrong with him? Why was he failing the moment failure stopped being an option? He normally did pretty well under pressure, but now he was nothing but cracks.

“No, I just…” His head was empty, for once he had no words, no excuses, nothing. He was going to die.

“It’s okay to be scared, you know” The man sounded like it pained him to say that or maybe it was that without his usual confidence Dick looked so much younger, like a child put in the middle of the war zone. So out of place. Or perhaps this right here, with cereal in his hair and strawberry juice on his fingers among the trashed room, was the most in place he would ever be. One of the last glimpses of a kid he is. If it wasn’t for the circumstances. One could almost imagine Dick and Jenny were eating breakfast after a sleepover, playing with their food, without a care in the world, as their biggest problem was a math test next Friday. But at last, the truth was here to hit them in the gut.

Dick didn’t have the energy to lie. It wouldn’t work anyway, so why bother. It was his last chance to not pretend, time running out. He sent the man a tight, tired smile and left to get ready.

He didn’t see the way Clark’s shoulders dropped as he watched him leave or the look of pure heartbreak that crossed his face. He started cleaning the room, just to busy himself and thought about the small boy with sad eyes and the resigned girl who wasn’t fully with them anymore. He wanted to distract himself from the knowledge he was sending them to their deaths. From the guilt he felt and how if he took a slip of paper a few millimetres to the left or right, they would be home sleep and sound. Then he thought about hundreds of other kids gathered at the square and winced. How could he wish that, that other slip of paper was more than that, it was another child, another scared little kid he would be sentencing to their death. He swept the floor, thinking of Richard’s smile and Jenny avoiding his eyes. It was destroying him. He didn’t want to think about it.

(They deserved someone to think about them.)

He did anyway.

Five days, twenty two hours and ten minutes.

Chapter Text

The entire way there Jenny had been a mix of awe and wonder and blatant contempt. And she didn’t need to say a word for him to understand. The Capitol was a lot. It was all colours and shapes and glimmer and technology. It frankly looked like another world. In Eight colours were most present in the factory and in the patches on their clothes. Dick in his short time there managed to learn the basics of sewing, and had done his best taking care of his one pair of pants and two shirts, leaving them a complete mismatch after just a few months of living in the district. Some people there were real artists, able to create masterpieces with their limited resources, but he wasn’t one of them and, seeing Jenny wrinkle her nose at her outfit after they passed a woman in a dress basically glowing and scattering light into a rainbow around her, could say she wasn’t either. It was absolutely breathtaking and completely unnecessary. These words could probably summarise the entirety of the Capitol.

It’s been years since he first saw the contrast in the quality of life in Panem and it still hasn’t ceased to amaze him. Just the idea of these people having more food than they would ever need, while people in lower districts were continuously starving was insane. It hit him then — he was one of the people who knew the exact differences best. That was probably part of the reason he was here after all. Both as a punishment and as a warning. The circus was disbanded after his parents had been framed for treason, the rest of the crew being sent to their home districts and him getting left behind in Eight. His death was supposed to be public and displayed for all to see — a warning, you could never get away, there’s always a way for them to get to you. 

What they probably didn’t expect was that this specific kid was oddly competent. He knew them. His entire life prepared him for that, and really they were fools for not recognising the danger he posed. His chances were slim, but they were also supposed to be that for him to get reaped, yet here he was. The odds were never in his favour, it was good he could juggle them and get the most out of them. For that he had to use everything in his disposal and his biggest tool was his age. He wasn’t one of the older competitors, couldn’t rely on his build, his dangerous demeanour. He wasn’t from the inner Districts, he had no allies or sponsors who would support him as a rule. To get anything, he had to work on it. So he didn’t let his disgust or his defiance show. He couldn’t be scared, couldn’t cry, he couldn’t have any weaknesses — it was a one way ticket for them to shake him off, they would feel discomfort and try to get away from it. He couldn’t have too much confidence, too much skill — it would make him a target and he had no doubt he would not survive a direct confrontation with a Career, not to mention a bunch of them. No, if he wanted to survive he had only one option.

Dick pressed his face to the window of the car. Eyes wide and filled with wonder, mouth slightly opened as he surveyed his surroundings. As they passed another group of the citizens, he moved away a bit, a bright smile appearing on his face. He waved at them excitedly, as only a child could. They waved back.

It was the first part. He had to be likeable. He had to be charming. He had to show how much he loved everything they gave him, it worked well for their ego, the positive feedback. Nothing screamed ‘one of us!’ or ‘a like-minded individual’ like appreciation. He knew half of them were patting each other on the back, telling themselves how great they are. Him agreeing gave him some positive connotations in their heads, even if they haven’t realized yet.

The entire ride he could see Jenny and Kent stare at him. The girl seemed betrayed, like she couldn’t believe he would ever wave to the people whose hobby was putting children in a cage with a rabid dog. It was the despair, he thought, what hooked them. She seemed disgusted by him and also saddened, maybe thinking he didn’t understand what was going on. He knew of course, perhaps better than she did. Jenny’s chances weren’t looking good. She was tall, yes, but also really slim from malnutrition, her clothes were too big on her, but even here he could see her arms were weak like twigs. She hasn’t done anything interesting, nothing to make them pay attention to her. Her personality, or at least its glimpses the audience was able to see, could probably leave a bitter aftertaste in the mouth. They wouldn’t be able to tell, but would avoid her nevertheless. She needed to do something, catch their attention like a fish on a hook and not let go. Or else she will fade into the background and there is nothing worse than that. Of course being unassuming, hidden from view, was also a valid strategy, but for that you needed skills Jenny did not possess. As far as Dick was concerned at least.

Kent on the other hand looked stricken, as if he was seeing him for the first time. He had to push back the annoyance he felt at that. Who did that man think he was? What did he think he knew about him? He’s just met him. Not to mention it being tainted by the Hunger Games. Dick was a child being sent to his death and this man had the audacity to act disappointed, like Dick did something against the rules, out of character. He didn’t know him. And yet he dared to judge him. That’s what you get for lowering your guard once, he would make sure to never make that mistake again. He could not afford it and nothing Clark Kent did or thought could change it.

Strix on the other hand avoided looking at any of them, but he could just feel hatred radiating off of her. It has been 14 years since her own Games. She spent more time as a Capitol's pawn than Dick was alive. In this time she saw twenty six children to their death, being solely responsible for sixteen of them, when the first and the only other Eight victor died. They were relying on her, she was all they had and yet she couldn’t even talk on their behalf, since the Capitol took it away as well. So no, Dick couldn’t blame her for ignoring them, she probably didn’t want to get attached to the kids who were already dead. They were ghosts haunting her, even if they were still breathing.

It was okay tho, it had to be. He could do it himself, he didn’t need her help to know how to play this out. The only thing he needed from his mentor was to do her job and send him the stuff. She didn’t even have to get him sponsors, he would work on it himself. Would it be easier? Definitely. But he could do it. Alone. Just like everything since his parents’ death.

As soon as they arrived, the chaos began. Kent ushered them out of the car, their crew already waiting for them. Dick managed to smile and greet everyone on their way, but it was a close call. It really seemed like the man tried to sabotage his plan.  

Before long, he stood in front of the room, left alone for the first time. They separated Jenny and him two turns ago, Strix went with her and Kent disappeared right after he deposited him in place. He could run, but he didn’t have where and Peacekeepers everywhere would stop his escape before it even had a good chance of starting. He couldn’t just stand there either. He took a deep breath and knocked on the door. It opened before he even had a chance to blink, hands already on him, pulling him inside. There were five people in the room, at least half of them were taking off his clothes. He didn’t even get a chance to say anything. He suddenly felt young and completely unprepared. Just so overwhelmed and out of control. He knew, logically, what was happening, that these people were measuring him, in a hurry because the time before the parade was running out and they had to sew his outfit for it, along with the other clothes he might need. Still, it didn’t change the fact he was 12 years old in a foreign place filled with strangers much too close for comfort. 

“Hi, I’m Richard Grayson” He finally managed to choke out when the guy was touching his naked chest, and the ladies were touching his legs and it was too much too much too much too much too much toomuchtoomuchtoomuchtoomuchtoomuchtoomuchtoomuchtoomuchtoomuchtoomuchtoomuchtoomuch.

A breath of cold air made him shiver. He had to blink a couple of times before the world came back into focus. He didn’t know when he closed his eyes. There were no people in his direct vicinity and that finally made him take a deep breath. He was shaking, he realised belatedly. His heart was hammering in his chest like it was trying to run away. There was something soft on him. He raised his arms and saw them drown in the sleeves of a robe too big for him. His breathing finally steadied as he was busy studying the fluff of the softest piece of clothing he ever came in contact with. It smelled nice. He wasn’t able to name any single ingredient, but if this was how everything smelled in the Capitol he could get used to it. He would need to ask them for the fabric softener recommendations. If he’s alive to take them, that is.

“Are you with me?” A voice asked and his head snapped in its direction. Right in front of him, but still a couple of meters in a safe distance, sat a woman he hadn't noticed. He hasn’t noticed a lot, like a fact there was a ringing in his ears that distorted the sound, still not gone completely, but faded enough for him to understand. He swallowed the bile. He opened his mouth to answer, but no words escaped his mouth. He frowned, feeling out of his element. He settled on nodding.

“Good” She returned, sending him a smile. Only now did he properly focus on her. Her red lipstick, blonde hair falling into her eyes, dyed blue and pink at the ends. Her outfit consisted of only two colours — black and red, it was a commitment he could respect. He would expect the colours to clash with the hair, but she was somehow pulling it off. He wasn’t sure if it was thanks to the outfit itself, the beauty of the woman herself or just the confidence in which she carried herself, staring as if she challenged anyone to question and being ready to beat the shit out of them and win. Overall she had a pretty intimidating image, but she didn’t come closer, giving him the space to actually breathe . “I’m sorry for them. In their hurry they forgot to care about the comfort of such a small pumpkin”.

It took him a second to realise, he was in fact ‘pumpkin’ and the ‘they’ she referred to were the measurement people who were also nowhere to be seen. Right. It was probably his stylist. Because he somehow managed to forget all about the Games and why he was even there in the first place. How could he forget? He needed to compose himself. He had a plan, he just needed to stick to it. He couldn’t get distracted or all panicky over people just doing their job. He was overreacting. He needed to be better. He was better.

“No need to apologize, I realize we’re on a tight schedule” He straightened up, bottling all negative emotions deep inside. His posture was confident, yet relaxed. He sent the lady a smile. “I don’t believe we were introduced, my name is Richard Grayson”.

He crossed the room, extending his hand in a greeting. The woman tilted her head a bit, looking at him quizzically. Whatever she wanted, she seemed to get pretty quickly, because not a few seconds later, she sent him a matching grin herself as she stood up and shook his hand excitedly.

“Harleen Quinzel, your stylist, but, please, call me Harley, pumpkin and the pleasure is all mine” There was something, a gleam in her eyes that told him she saw right through him, but for now she chose to let him keep his facade and he could work with that.

“Well, Miss Harley, what do you have for me? I can recognize, you have the skills and the vision, so just tell me what you need from me”.

Harley followed his gaze and her face just brightened at the praise, turning that much more genuine than before. She gave him a little spin, obviously, as the outfit-complementing etiquette requires. And Dick politely applauded, as was the only proper response. She put her hands over her heart, showing him how touched she was and he nodded with acknowledgement. She measured him up with her too-much-seeing sight. He felt like he was facing the final judgement. They stared into each other’s eyes, not even daring to blink. Dick was determined to pass this test, whatever it was, and he would not lose for such stupid reason like moisturising his eyes, he’d rather let them dry out. They stood like that for a good minute, Harley’s face a statue, frozen in time, not moved an inch. But something must have changed, because one moment they were in the middle of the most intense stare off he ever experienced, and the next the stylist clasped her hand, startling him from the state he locked himself in. Before he could blink, Harley’s arm was around his shoulder. She tilted her face right next to his ear, as if she was sharing a secret with him.

“We are going to have so much fun, pumpkin” She said in a voice that was too loud to be a whisper, but he appreciated the sentiment. The smirk that appeared on his face was completely out of his control, but he wasn’t worried about it. Harley was the only one who could see it and, if anything, he knew she would appreciate it.

“Let’s get to it then”.

Five days, nineteen hours and thirty seven minutes.

Chapter Text

The parade came and went. It was interesting to say the least. Most of the tributes were looming over him, even those on the younger side had a good few inches on him. The Careers were obviously the most intimidating, not only in their posture and visible skills, they were also radiating confidence none of the other tributes could even begin to muster. Dick spent the entire time observing each and every one of them. Their District was the youngest out of all of them, the average age of tributes was around seventeen, the volunteers heightening it. 

He found five people from the outer Districts who could possess any kind of physical danger, only two of them aware of their look and actively working on seeming as capable as possible. One of the biggest guys in their group, who could rival some Careers, lacked any kind of situational awareness or at least he suffered from some stage fright. A good part of the tributes were completely overwhelmed. They never were in the centre of attention like this, laden bare for everyone to see. People were going to watch them, judge their every move and gossip. There was going to be so much gossip. He already had his first experience with them. Really his entire team loved talking and he listened, prompting them to continue their rants. 

He listened about Amelia cheating on her husband as they were fitting his clothes, he listened about Oliver’s adopted charity cause as they were doing his hair, he listened as they argued about the women Bruce slept with lately as they were doing his makeup. Among other things and a ton of conspiracy theories. Soon they will become the hottest topic themselves and most of them didn’t appreciate what the press could do for them. It wasn’t their fault, really, just a fucked up thing in the fucked up game, but you do what you do to survive. 

He pitied them a bit, part of him wanted to console them, help them. Unfortunately, their survival equaled his death and he really needed any edge he could get his hands on. Still, he introduced himself to some, offered a gentle smile of companionship to others and eavesdropped on anyone he could. He found out that Virginia and James from Five were siblings with him volunteering to stay with her. He had a slim build of a runner, her presence was the most magnetic out of all of them and with their compelling story of siblinghood, full of heartbreak, love and sacrifice, they were formidable opponents. Audience will love them. They have a high chance of being fan favourites, along the Careers. 

That was going to be a problem.

Good thing about representing Eight was the theme they were going with. Fabrics and textiles gave Harley a lot to work with. Unfortunately, with a good stylist others could beat them without a problem. Ones were literally shining, he had a feeling neither of them were going to get rid of the glitter until they went into the Arena. They were probably meant to symbolize some fancy rocks, Ruby and Sapphire if he had to guess, with matching highlights in their hair. Two by comparison looked just plain — yes, they did look respectful, with emphasis on intimidation and them being warriors, but it was just boring there, after the show the Ones put on, and because they always looked basically the same. It was a good, dependable look, that didn’t manage to make them stand out, not that they needed it, their confidence was warranted with a quarter of overall wins belonging to them. The Trees were definitely silvery. He could tell there was some sort of vision behind it, but he couldn’t quite place it. Well , he was sure hardcore Three fans would find something meaningful in it and proceed to praise the genius of their stylist. Four were definitely the most impressive, they looked like the sea personification, standing unshakably in the middle of the storm. He was so glad Five’s stylist had no clue what they were doing. It was just so easy to connect electricity with the light, he couldn’t believe they didn’t think of that. Harley begrudgingly admitted their new stylist was good enough for that, but they fortunately came down with a stomach flu and a smile on the woman’s face as she said it, told him she might have had something to do with it, not that he minded, not at all, their replacement bought themselves the position wanting fame that came with it and had absolutely no idea what they were doing. The other Districts looked poorer with each next. Their stylists’ hearts weren’t in it, no one cared about them, no one wanted the outcasts, most of whom were going to die in the very beginning. There was no fame in it, no satisfaction, they all wanted the winners and you could see it in their works.

As for them, the vision was colours, a ‘fuckton of colours’ according to Harley to be precise. Jenny was in a long dress, narrow with a cut for her leg, embroidered in lilies. The outer layer of the dress was flowy and dragging behind her with butterfly wings pattern glowing in the light in all colours of the rainbow. He couldn’t help but be reminded of the lady they passed on their way to the Tribute Centre. From the look of her face, he could tell Jenny thought the same, smug knowing hers was just better in every way. Dick was put in a matching outfit. He had a sleeveless shirt based on a lily, a cape shaped like butterfly wings on his shoulders. When he raised his arms, they spread out in all their glory. He was shocked Harley managed to pull it off with such a limited time frame, but she just shook him off, telling him most of it was pre-planned and started long before they were announced as this year’s tributes. Lilies are common funeral flowers, alongside symbolising purity and innocence. They attracted the butterflies which are connected to rebirth and according to their stylist used to be associated with death and souls of children. She said it like she was making a meaningless comment, almost like an afterthought, but it did matter to her — he saw it in a way she waited for them to be alone before she said it, and how she glanced at him to check his reaction, he could feel it, the seriousness behind the light tone she used — and it did matter to him. Of course most of the people wouldn’t see the meaning behind any of them, willingly turning a blind eye, choosing to be ignorant in favour of their comfort. After all it was so easy to say ‘oh Harley just loves colours’, ‘oh, it just means we finally have a chance to bloom and spread out our wings and hey it’s shiny! You love shiny, don’t you?’ and it’s so simple there’s no reason for it to be anything more to it. But he’ll know. 

Needless to say, their entrance made quite the impression. Dick, for his part, started looking rather shy, with a caught breath, amazed by the sheer magnitude of everything, not so subtly admiring everything, raising his hand to gently wave at people’s applause, a small smile on his face getting bigger with each passing second, uncertainty being replaced by sheer confidence. It didn’t take much time, it was just long enough that people could see his transformation with their own eyes. He visibly brightened, his energy contagious and uncontainable. He raised his eyes to the sky and arms to the people — his wings spreading. People went crazy. He then looked directly at Jenny and she, sensing his gaze, locked her eyes with him. Not breaking eye contact Dick took her hand and kissed the back of her hand. He took a flower out of his pocket and tucked it behind her ear. She smiled at him, gently but genuinely and when he held her hand, she squeezed it in a gesture of support, and when he put them up, she grinned alongside him. People loved it and haven’t missed the fact that after lowering their hands, they still didn’t let go of each other. 

What they didn’t see was how displeased Jenny was afterwards, how she dropped his hand as if it burned her or how she threw the flower back in his face. She didn’t let her emotions loose there, she was smarter than this, she waited until they were back in the apartment before blowing up. Her face was red from anger. 

“I’m not dumb, you know” She finally said, words escaping her as if she didn’t plan on them, but it didn’t make her falter nonetheless, if anything it was all she needed to actually start going. “I see you. I saw you on the train and I saw you in the car ride, and I saw you on the parade. And I know you’re doing it on purpose. And honestly? I don’t care. You can play your games with the Capitol all you want, their little doll doing whatever they want. I. Don’t. Care. But do you really have to use me? Because that’s what you did. For a moment there I thought you were actually on my side, that you were the same guy I threw cereal on the train, but you’re not. Don’t lie to me now. I saw that look in your eyes. You used me. You used me”.

Her voice broke by the end. She didn’t look angry anymore, just resigned and hurt. Her mouth was pressed tight, eyes fixed on the ground. She was avoiding him and doing her best not to cry. She looked smaller like this, younger, more vulnerable. And he was at fault for that. And the worst part was, he couldn’t even deny it. He did use her. Made her an unwilling performer in his play. It wasn’t fair to her, he could acknowledge that. He hasn't even realized what was the exact moment he stopped thinking about the other tributes for what they truly were — children, taken away from their families and locked in an inhumane game for the sake of sick entertainment. He had to, if he intended on surviving it. It didn’t lessen the guilt that threatened to choke him. He cared. That was the problem. He has always genuinely cared, but now it was standing in the way of an ultimate goal — living. Jenny deserved at least a little bit of honesty from him.

“I’m sorry” He started, cautious of his next word “I did use you, but hurting you was never my intention. I just. We are the youngest, we look defenceless like easy prey. And we don’t have the size or the strength, or the training. They are better equipped for this than us, Jenny, in any way. We don’t stand a chance against them and everyone can see it. It is as clear as a day. We don’t matter. And we need the sponsors. The problem is they don’t care. And Strix, I respect her, of course, she did go through what we will, but she can’t even talk for god’s sake! They don’t like her, they don’t like the reminder that the Games did it to her, they don’t want to see their few days of fun have physical consequences on top of the shitload of trauma. It taints the picture of a Victor they painted. And I refuse to die because of it. You think I like it? Of course I fucking don’t! But for whatever it’s worth, I am going to make them care. Even if I don’t make it, I want them to sit there, feel sad and miserable and pity themselves, but they won’t forget me. They don’t get to brush my death under the carpet and proceed like nothing happened. If I die, I’m going to haunt them. But I really, really don’t want to.”

Dick tried to stay calm, explain his intention, and make it clear on what he wanted. He didn’t even last two sentences before frustration took over. He was just so tired and angry, and he hated everything about the society they were trapped in. He started gesticulating wildly, crossing the room in circles multiple times. He hasn’t even realized how much anxious energy accumulated in him and it was nice to finally have some outlet for it. He wanted to walk on his hands, make cartwheels, somersaults, he wanted to fly and bend himself in a way people’s bones would start hurting from even thinking about. He could recognize it wasn’t a place or a time. He had more important things to worry about, like a girl in front of him and her reaction to the words he hid so carefully and which were making his chest ache. Now that all of it was out there, Jenny seemed… he couldn’t actually tell what she was feeling and it unnerved him, made him feel vulnerable and out of control, he could in no way lead a conversation if he had no idea what he was working with. The girl was definitely lost in thought, but that was all that was obvious.

“Her name is Mary, you know,” she said quietly, surprising him. Dick had no idea what she was talking about, but that didn’t deter her, if anything it made her bolder as she looked at him, seeming much older than she actually was. “Mary Turner. They nicknamed her Strix after her games. Maybe it was too bland for their tastes, but now no one even remembers her name. They didn’t just take her voice. They took her in her entirety, broke her and crammed all the unfitting pieces in the mold. It doesn’t matter if you don’t die, you cannot leave this Arena whole and it will never leave you.” 

She took a deep breath. She was shaking and definitely crying now, her arms tightly wrapped around herself. 

“I’m not letting them destroy me.” It was so quiet, he almost missed it, but there was also so much conviction, he shuddered. “I forgive you, but you can’t do it anymore. Just do your thing and I’ll do mine”.

She sounded so sad, so tired, he could feel something inside him shatter. He wondered if it was what heartbreak felt like. She turned to leave, but he couldn’t let her. Not yet, not like this. He crossed the room from where he stood frozen. He grabbed her arm, turning her around. She had a frown on her face, but he could tell she wasn’t truly mad, from the way she let herself be turned. And then he sent her the widest smile he could muster, that was visibly a little much to the left, to be a truly happy one.

“Dick Grayson.” He said, extending his hand.

She looked at him for a moment, before snorting. It was his turn to frown, feeling truly offended.

“Dick? What kind of name is that?” His reaction only made her laugh harder and he couldn’t help but grumble.

“Shut up! We’re not dead yet, so might as well spend these last few days doing something other than mourning ourselves. So”, he waved his extended hand in front of her face “Dick Grayson. Wanna be friends?”

She looked a little bit shocked, but her features softened quickly. She took his hand, her grip strong.

“Jenny Noblesse.” A smirk creeped on her face. “You’re it!”

She was long gone before he moved to follow.

When Clark and Strix came back, the room was filled with laughter, giggles followed by streams of obscenities even he wouldn’t use. His companion left in silence. The price of Mary being there was herself and that well was a long time dry. He turned his attention to the children and his heart broke again for a different reason. He didn’t linger too long, afraid they might stop upon seeing him and he wanted to give them this. This one moment of serenity. 

Just kids being kids.

Five days, six hours and fifteen minutes.

Chapter Text

Training for Dick was less about training itself, and more about studying people and planting his seeds. He was sure his skills were sharp as ever, they were coded in his blood. Besides, his goal was to be overlooked. He believed in the mentors, and their knowledge of the games. They would definitely notice his public presence. He could only hope they’d write it down to his personality, not deliberate action. For now, as long as he doesn’t stand out as a physical threat, they would most likely ignore him in favour of discussing more visible threats. His only worry was his form, it wouldn't do him good to be winded up after a little bit of running around. But it was a secondary problem, he could just run around while taking care of the priorities. The first order being survival skills — he had no way of knowing what kind of Arena they were about to head into, and he would prefer to avoid choosing between starving and poisonous plants. The second part was socialising, he needed to find allies and establish his position. The most he was counting on was the tenacious treaty of ‘not killing on sight’, and becoming a low-priority target for both tributes and their mentors. 

Careers, as expected of them, made a bee line for a weapon station. Going over there at that moment was probably suicide, he didn’t want to intrude or make them defensive. That was one way of getting enemies. They were kinda like dogs who pissed there to mark their territory, ready to bite anyone who dared to intrude. Most of the other teenagers scattered across the room. Some went for the other weapon areas, a few groups beneath climbing walls, the fire-making station caught a lot of attention, one brave soul even joined the Careers. He could feel the weight of their stares from all the way here, may she rest in peace.

Except for him and Jenny, only the couple from Three was still standing in place. He measured them up. The boy didn’t look like much. If he had to describe him in one word it would be ‘nerdy’. He had dark blond hair and brown eyes, glasses covering most of his face. Poor sight, Dick noted, and he hated himself a little bit more for it. The boy looked young and completely anxious. His sport attire only highlighting how out of place he really was. He didn’t look like a killer, which didn’t mean he wouldn’t do it, but he might hesitate especially in the beginning, especially if his opponent was smaller than him, making it seem more like a murder than a self-defense. Dick could work with that. 

His partner was bigger and taller than him, she had the kind of attitude that made her seem like she belonged and knew exactly what she was doing. But she wouldn’t fool him. He saw it in how she moved, the uncertainty radiating off of her in the way you wouldn’t be able to tell from her posture alone. She was towering over both of the boys, taller even than Jenny. Older, too. If he had to estimate, he would say she’s around the middle of the pack. That was a good sign for him, because a gang of children wouldn’t help him too much. It was a good starting point, though. The girl also had long red hair, in a shade some would describe as strawberry blond. He didn’t really care much for all these shades, but he heard some took their blondes and strawberries pretty seriously, so he didn’t want to endanger himself to their wrath. Jenny, who could rock strawberry black hair in a more literal ‘strawberry’ sense, was also lingering. She claimed she had to watch over him, so he wouldn’t make a fool of himself or fall off the stairs and die, but he knew she just didn’t want to be alone and he could appreciate the sentiment. They were now friends after all.

“Hi, I’m Richie, and this is Jenny” He introduced them, ignoring the scowl the girl was sending at his back. If you want to have fun, you have to make friends and it means introducing yourself to people, you’ve got to deal with it, Jenny. “What do you think about checking out the survival station first, just to get the feel of everything?”

They exchanged glances, and somehow it was all it took for them to make the decision, the girl nodding and taking the lead, just how he knew she would. Interesting, it probably meant they actually knew each other before ending up here. This, or she just established domination this quickly. He didn’t doubt her skills, he doubted if it was in character, tho. 

“Sandy Cole and Craig Rockland.” She introduced them, and then took the leadership of their little group. Dick didn’t really mind, since they ended up at the plant-identifying anyway. It was, bluntly saying, awkward. No one was saying anything, Jenny kept tapping her nails bored and Sandy kept sending them suspicious glances. And Craig kind of looked like he wanted to die, just from being in their close vicinity. As always, it fell upon him to achieve anything. He let there be quiet for a few minutes, while he focused on committing everything to memory. All the differences between the seemingly identical plants. When he managed to get a perfect score, with some lucky guesses, he wouldn’t trust his judgement in the area yet, he let a proud smile appear on his face. 

Then he made a comment about how cool all of this technology was, and how he wished they had something similar in Eight. It was simple and wouldn’t make anything any more weird than it already was, if he messed up his assessment. He didn’t, because apparently it was all the prompting Craig needed, but it was still nice to have some contingency plan. The boy suddenly shut his mouth when he noticed Dick looking at him. He seemed scared and guilty, he was probably getting bullied for his nerdiness. The younger boy didn’t let him worry too long, asking follow-up questions about some details he mentioned. The relief was palpable and so the rant continued. Sandy also visibly relaxed from the warning glare he pretended not to notice, she had sent him earlier. 

It was like he had passed a test, an invisible barrier lifting. Dick ended up listening more about computers and electricity than he expected coming in there, plants falling a bit to the background, however not being completely ignored as he was a multitasking king. He tried to reason with himself, that he wasn’t being manipulative, that he genuinely enjoyed the conversation, interested in the things Craig was telling him. He loved listening to passionate rants, no matter the topic, and yet it did nothing to lessen the pang of guilt in his gut. But really it was for the best. Jenny was already bonding with the other girl. She started complaining about how they reminded her of her younger brother. It was a mix between exasperated light-hearted sibling banter and early mourning. He didn’t even know she had a brother. Sandy seemed to relate, despite being an only child herself, she said she looked after a lot of younger kids, and apparently she took Craig under her wings. Dick was sure the boy would blush at that, but luckily he was too busy to pay attention to the girls’ conversation.

Lunch came in the blink of an eye. Their group managed to shuffle, each one having a chance of a conversation. Sandy was in the middle of retelling a story, when the argument started. The entire way to the canteen was spent in wild gesticulation and laughter. They were definitely the loudest group out of everyone. He could see the Careers glaring in their direction. He would need to work harder to get in good graces with at least one of them, but that was a problem for the Future Dick. He couldn’t do anything with them all grouped together like that anyway. He inspected the room. Some people were absent, but most seemed to choose one of two options — either sitting alone with their district partner, or at the big table with other tributes, alone together in their silence and absolute focus on their own plates. 

He noticed a lone girl, ignoring everyone else. Dick smirked, the devilish smile that would be absolutely terrifying if met upon in the dark alley. Allas, he made his expression more neutral and led his possible allies in the clear direction, the rest following him absentmindedly too engrossed in the conversation. He put his tray right in front of a short, petite girl. She looked strong, better built than any of his current friends company. They didn’t even seem to notice her, just taking seats around him. He took care to keep his face serious, but the facade see through, especially with amusement gleaming in his eyes. 

“Let’s get an opinion from the outside, shall we?” He asked, glancing beside him, before returning his gaze to the girl from Seven. He allowed a corner of his mouth to lift a bit. He pointed to the girl on his left. “Sandy here was just telling us about this guy from her school, who apparently is a major asshole to everyone, but according to her he’s actually a secret sweetheart who just needs someone to help him get out of his shell. She called Craig delusional for thinking the guy just had a crush on her, and if people like him refused to help Jeff, that’s his name by the way, then it fell on her to do something about it. She thinks he’s a bully, because of his own insecurities.”

“He shoved me in the locker.” Craig mumbled, but Dick politely ignored him, Sandy on the other hand had no such resistance.

“It’s where the insecurities are from! I can bet he’s actually a secret nerd, but he’s just too afraid to appear weak, just like with his softness. He is a really nice boy, once you give him a chance.”

“Because he’s in love with you!” He threw his hands, apparently outraged all over again. The redhead looked offended as well, so Dick had to cut in before things escalated. Again.

“So as you can see, Jeff is a pretty controversial topic here.” He mouthed ‘Please help me.’, wide eyes nothing but begging the blonde. His smile turned a bit apologetic.

“This is bullshit.” The Seven said, successfully shutting everyone up, and making them stare at her. Craig and Sandy apparently only now actually seeing her. Her tone might have worried Dick, if he didn’t know he had already won, when she didn’t interrupt or leave as soon as he started speaking. “Don’t go down this road, girl. This is like the red flag if I ever saw one. You never get involved with the guys you think you could ‘fix’, it never ends well. He absolutely wants to fuck you, and when you deny him something, he will turn on you completely. That's a one way ticket to ending up somewhere in a ditch.”

“That’s what I said!” Jenny exclaimed excitedly, before backing down when it got her attention. “I mean the red flag part.”

She looked like she wanted the Earth to swallow her whole. He felt like he was watching a ping pong match. When the Seven girl smiled at her, he could swear she blushed. Oh that was absolutely perfect, teasing material practically writing itself.

“See, Sandy?” He found himself actively nodding in agreement. “You’re outnumbered. Jeff fooled you with his ‘misunderstood teenage boy’ charm, but we’re here for you. It’s okay, you can cry, we won’t tell anyone.”

The girl in question sent him a glare, but it was half-hearted at best, so he just shrugged, deciding it unnecessary to comment on.

“Well since that’s settled, thank you for your assistance by the way, your insight much appreciated, is this soup good? I debated taking it as well, but I’ve never tried it, so I just stuck with the safe option.” She seemed a bit confused at the sudden change of topic, the others equally taken aback, only now realizing they completely forgot about their own food which got cold already. The coordination in which they all grabbed their utensils, impressed him. They had to either practice it, which he knew they didn’t, or just hunger took control of them all at once.

“Don’t mention it, I am all for beating the thoughts about dumb boys out of pretty girls’ minds. You could say, it is my calling. Good thing I don’t need to worry about you, it seems”. Oh, she just totally winked at Jenny. This was just getting better and better. “And yeah, want to grab a bite and try for yourself? I’m full anyway and I promise it’s not poisoned or anything”.

He took the spoon and unceremoniously put it in his mouth. He nodded, ignoring the judgemental stares.

“Oh this is good.” He declared, mouth still full. The judgement turned into pure disgust, as one could see in the terrified faces. Okay, prudes. At least Seven looked understanding. See? She got him. He swallowed, more deliberately than absolutely necessary. “I’m Richie by the way, this here is Jenny and I’m sure you already caught it, but these two are Sandy and Craig.”

“Claire, nice to meet you, soup boy and co.”

Sandy started denying with all her might, Craig looked equally surprised and glad to be included and Jenny sent her a shy smile. Dick joined the banter and Claire laughed at them. It was good.

When they stood up from the table, they did so without needing to discuss anything prior. Claire blended in with them seamlessly, offering them help at the fire making station.

Four out of twenty three. It was a pretty good start all things considered.

Sandy — she was strong-willed and had the ability to command any room she walked into. She had the height, but lacked any physical abilities, she told them she used to avoid the PE classes like fire and now regretted it. She had the wits tho and was pretty quick on her feet. She was really decisive and capable of making choices without hesitation, a useful trait in a stressful environment. She was seventeen, the oldest of their little bunch. It made her seem like a leader of their group, and he would gladly let her take the position. He had already seen the ways others started looking at them, Careers didn’t like the way their groups were almost the same sizes. While they could probably tell they didn’t pose much threat to them, they still didn’t enjoy their alliance. Unofficial as it was, its sudden appearance made the balance of power uncertain. 

Craig — he didn’t look like much. Short, weak and anxious, a poster boy for the victims of bullying. He was nice tho, usually. More importantly, he was hilarious, his timing was immaculate and just so smart. He had the ability to insult you without you even catching up to it, not to mention finding a right answer. He had a mean strike, that in Dick’s eyes was only ever a positive, since he used his evil powers for the greater good — it being funny. If anyone cared to hold a single conversation with the boy, they could have easily realized what a genius he was. The fact that he, at fourteen, shared a few classes with much older Sandy, only proved it. His specialization might be computers, but he had such vast knowledge, it was not to be underestimated.  

Claire — she was their group’s biggest muscles. It was sad, really, being dependent on someone who’s only fifteen, but they didn’t have much of a choice at the moment. She was strong, potentially lethal with an axe. It also made her more likely to be decent with other weapons. She would probably be pretty good at climbing, although he suspected she would rely too much on her arms, neglecting the legs. He could probably tell her that. She already gave them a few tips for lightening fire. She was the only one from the woods-based District and that would mean life or death if the Arena was anything like that. She definitely was leading in the field orientation department. There were so many survival skills they had no hope of matching her. Claire was a crucial member of the team. 

Dick could already see the way other kids were stealing glances at them. They were starting to look formidable, even if he himself was nothing but a mascot in their eyes. Elliott, the boy from Seven, was another possible candidate for an ally, or at least an ally-in-law with him and Claire being from the same District. That made half the tributes shared between them and the Careers. He had to be careful from now on in how he proceeded. This whole thing might snow ball yet, he designed it, but it was already gaining a life on its own. He should be cautious or it might turn out he just created his own demise. 

That’s why before the day reached the end, he strode away from the group and made his way to where the pair from Ten attempted the climbing wall. He gave them a few basic pointers, instructing which rock to reach for, and cheered along the boy, when the girl managed to get to the top for the first time, beating her fear of heights.

He offered to spot the boy from Twelve and threw tennis balls so the girl from Six could shoot them. He sat in silence next to the girl from Five, just keeping her a bit of company. He laughed at the boy from Eleven’s jokes and offered his water to the guy from Six whose bottle came up empty.

He tried to do it as subtly as possible, but he caught the girl from Two observing him. It was not good. Of course Dick knew he wouldn’t avoid catching any kind of attention, but it happened sooner than he had hoped for. More than that, he really hoped it wouldn’t be her. Talia Al Ghul won only three years prior, and since then has proven herself to be as skilled and formidable a mentor as she was a tribute. She hadn’t taken any Victors home, but she was close every time. For now though, the girl kept quiet, but he wasn’t fooling himself he could avoid the confrontation forever.

He came back to where Sandy and Claire tried their skill at sword fighting. He draped his arm around Jenny, and together they laughed at Craig’s sassy commentary. 

“Listen here, you little shit.” Whatever the blonde wanted to threaten him with got lost in the sound of her yelp, when Sandy hit her arm smirking with superiority. “Oh you asked for this.”

The smile fell off her face, as the Seven attacked her with such vigor she ended up backing up, forgetting all about paring she was supposed to practice, but wasn’t good at in the first place, until she tripped and fell right on her ass. Claire seemed pleased with such a development, the tilt of her pointed at the other girl’s throat. She could do nothing but put her hands up in surrender.

Their laughter echoed throughout the training room.

Four days, eleven hours and five minutes.

Chapter Text

Strix- Mary. Mary was using sign language. He knew, of course, of its existence, but he had actually never learned it, hadn’t attempted to even just want to. It was in no way useful so there was no need for him to know it. And yet he watched the two adults communicate completely entranced. He had no idea sign could be so expressive. Kent and Strix sat at their dinner table talking animatedly and, from the way the man kept stealing glances in his direction, Dick had a pretty good idea what the topic of the conversation was. It was annoying, really. They didn’t even try to hide it. It was insulting, that’s what it was. He scoffed, refusing to comment, opting for another lap around the room. His arms were starting to hurt a bit. He wasn’t sure whether he was disappointed or not, he lost count some time ago, getting a bit lost in thought. Training for the day was over. Elliott didn’t actively join them, but he did hover around most of the time and others seemed to already include him in their group. Claire argued with him about something Seven-related and Dick caught Sandy smile, when he laughed at Craig’s running commentary. So, reluctantly or not, the guy was officially part of their little alliance. The girl from Nine also seemed attracted to them as a moth to the flame. Sandy basically immediately adopted her, taking her under her wing, which in turn brought the girl’s District partner and sparked some kind of fight for dominance between those two. Ron, as he was dubbed by a whining ‘Don’t be such a killjoy, Ron’, wanted nothing to do with them. The little brunette — she introduced herself as Louanne — was thrilled when Dick joined in on her complaining session. 

“And yeah I know he’s older than me and took it upon himself to look after me or whatever, but must he be so annoying while at it?” She threw her hands agitated. “He’s acting like I can’t take care of myself. Like I’m some incompetent burden, but when I try to get off his hands, he goes and does that. Seriously, what is his problem? Is he just determined to be an ass?”

Dick joined in, agreeing how adults just tended to mark him as useless, and how he hated being treated like a little child. Louanne nodded excitedly, because he got it and later left feeling understood in a way no one else did. They were soulmates, that’s what they were. Secretly, he thought Ron was smarter than the girl gave him credit for and his overbearing probably came from his worry. Their group was growing rapidly, appearing out of nowhere, and they were basically children led by a seventeen year old. He was scared they’d use Louanne and didn’t trust them with her. He couldn’t join himself, because he probably realized his twenty-year-old self would endanger Sandy’s position of leadership and she might not take such a threat lightly. He was right, of course, as proved by their pointless spat.  

Anyway, Jenny didn’t come back to their apartment with him, without telling him where she was going, so case in point — he was bored, hence walking on his hands. He hated the fact it gave him too much time to think and nothing to do. He could feel the anxiety curling up in his gut. Distracting himself wasn’t working. They were running out of time and he wasn’t ready. He wasn’t ready. He started cartwheeling. It was already nearing midnight, the last day of training and the evaluation was the next day, then there was the interview and that was it. Then it was all over, one way or another. He lifted one hand. He was trying to pretend like he was in control, like he had a plan, which he did, but a drowning man clutches at straws. He couldn’t stop tho. It was all he had. He had to pretend he believed in the possibility of survival. Delusional, thinking his ‘charming personality’ could save him. He knew it wouldn’t help if he got stabbed five minutes in, or if the environment was disadvantageous,  and the gamemakers were definitely against him. He switched hands. There were just so many factors, so many things that could go wrong. And if they went well? For all his considerations of others’ strengths and weaknesses, worrying about all the ways they could betray him, he willingly ignored that winning the Games meant killing these people. Was he actually ready for it? He tried so hard not to get attached, knowing nothing could ever come out from the relationships. He had already befriended Jenny, but he didn’t think he’d stand losing more friends than them and their possible ‘betrayal’ would only hurt so much more. Dick wanted to cry.

He started doing push-ups. Single-handedly. With his legs in the air. 

Why wasn’t it working? Why wasn’t it working. He just wanted it to stop. He was twelve years old and he was so tired.

Kent’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts. He didn’t stumble, he was too much of a professionalist for it, but it did shake him up. He flipped, landing gracefully on his feet before turning towards the man. He looked tired. The kind of tired you get after fighting the world and never achieving anything. It was weird, seeing him like that. Dick supposed, he always saw him through the Capitol filter – here stood a man who never had to fear the Reaping, who watched each year with excitement without ever facing the consequences of the real world, the grief of the family, the trauma of the survivors. But when Dick looked at him now, he realized Clark would only age out of the Games himself a few years ago if he were from the Districts. This entire time he was also serious and solemn, not at all like a Capitol representative the boy would imagine. What exactly was Clark Kent’s goal in this?

“Hm?” Dick prompted, not at all hiding his lack of attention. Kent wasn’t the only one who was tired. The man seemed to have changed his mind, deciding not to say what he came here for. He gave Dick a long, sad look as if he could see him, that made his skin crawl. He hated this kind of attention, of being seen and vulnerable, and weak. Right, he couldn’t afford being tired just yet, he still had much to do. He just wished he could catch a break, but if it equaled Kent so openly pitying him, he had to step up his game.

“Are you okay?”

Well, and what could he say for that. Dick summoned an easy smile on his face, relaxing his entire posture.

“Just peachy and totally whelmed.” Kent obviously didn’t get it, but he didn’t inquire, choosing to keep looking at him like that, and, Jesus, can he just stop? Keep to your fucking lines, man, and stop screwing up the script. Dick knows how to handle oblivious idiots, excited fans, raging losers, worried mothers trying to pinch his cheeks. He doesn’t know how to deal with this. “You get it? Like people are always either overwhelmed or underwhelmed, but no one ever is just whelmed and wouldn't the world be just better if we learned the art of whelming?” The man remained unphased and Dick contained an urge to shuffle under his gaze. He cleared his throat. “What did you need?”

The charm seemed to break, freeing Kent from whatever influence he was under and almost making Dick sigh with relief. Almost.

“We were wondering maybe we should start talking strategy? The last day of training and the evaluation are tomorrow, and the interview is the day after that-” and then the Arena . It went unspoken, but Dick could hear it clear as day. He felt anger rise up in him, because really? Who did he think he was? Did he think Dick didn’t count the hours, didn’t know how much time all of them had left? He was the one going into Arena, he was aware of the deadline ever since his parents died and he realised the situation. He’s been planning and he’s been training. He found allies in some kids who were already calling him a friend, meanwhile he already knew he would betray them and stab them in the back. They were trusting him and he would get them killed. And for what? So he could go back to Eight where he had no one? So really, what did Clark fucking Kent think he could tell him?

He swallowed the anger, bottling it up and putting it away. It was useless at the moment, not doing anything for him. He allowed himself to remain a bit annoyed, because strategy was good, strategy could save Tribute’s life, if only they bothered to discuss it earlier.

“We found some allies, they might not be the strongest, none of us are Careers obviously, but I trust them not to kill us on sight, so that’s something?” 

He decided not to include the fact he didn’t trust some of them not to kill him in his sleep, granting him some kind of quick death as a mercy. He hoped they wouldn’t, but he couldn’t risk his life on hope. 

Kent, to his credit, looked disturbed. Dick couldn’t understand it. The man did want to talk strategy, he shared (part of) his strategy, where was the problem? 

“Right…Uhm, do you know where Jenny went? We should include her in this discussion.”

Dick shrugged. “I dunno, she’s a teenager, she’s probably doing some teenager-y stuff. I’ll let her know you were looking for her, when I see her, this works for you?”

He knew it wasn’t what Kent expected or wanted, not by the long shot, but it was all he had to offer. So he just turned away, choosing to walk away, before the man could change his mind. He could feel his sight lingering on him. He could hear the quiet, defeated “Sure” as he opened the door to the apartment. He couldn’t stay there any longer.

The problem with the Capitol was that it wasn’t actually huge. The way they portray themselves makes them feel bigger than the entire world, but Dick is one of the people who had actually seen how small in comparison to the districts it really was. They outnumbered them, they provided all the supplies to them. They could live without the Capitol, it was the Capitol that depended on them. And wasn’t that funny? In a morbid, depressing way.

Right then though, the Capitol didn’t seem small. It was a giant casting its shadow onto all of them, with holes that would swallow you whole and falls that would snap your neck. Dick was normally pretty good at blending with the shadows, but here shadows were as dangerous as the light. What Capitol lacked in terrain, they compensated for in height. There weren’t any woods, people didn’t live in small houses. The building they were stationed in reached higher than he ever went before.

Finding the roof was easy, getting there even easier. One would think the security in a place of such importance would be higher. In Dick’s professional opinion it was either shit or they just didn’t care enough what their tributes did before the Games. 

The door creaked as he got it opened — first sign of usage and passing time he found since stepping onto the train. Cold air hit him head on, sending a shiver down his spine, and for the first time since it seemed like forever Dick Grayson released a breath he had been holding. Just him, the roof and the night sky.

He was losing time, the day of the reckoning shined at the horizon, and he still had just so much to do. He needed to train, he needed to strategize, he needed to work on people, he needed to learn as much as he could. He should do all that, and yet he didn’t. He couldn't. Because he finally managed to press pause on his life. He could just sit there and breathe, even if it was for just a few mere minutes. No thoughts of Arena, of the upcoming slaughter. Just him, the stars miles above, and the ground below him.

He missed it. He missed the feeling of wind in his hair, cold air kissing his numb cheeks. It was wild to think that he used to hate the winter, always chasing the Sun. He never expected it to happen. But now the cold basked his last memories of his parents, and the stuffy Capitol air made him sick. Those warm evenings used to mean picnics, bathing under the Sun and sleeping under the stars. Right now life worked hard to take from him even this, new memories overwriting the old ones.

There was time that he could just be in the moment, exist and nothing else. Not think about anything, nothing. He hadn’t appreciated it at the time. If you asked anyone at the circus, they would probably tell you that Dick Grayson couldn’t just sit in one place. He always needed to do something. Wherever you looked, there he was, feeding animals, learning new tricks, asking questions or telling new stories.

His parents would just smile softly at that. The circus was his family, but only his parents knew him like that. Only they recognized his silences as well as his words. They would hear him, but they would also hear him. The three of them spoke the language of their own. He frowned, they gave him tea. His father’s eyebrow twitched, there was his mom’s gentle hand on his shoulder. His mom got the sad faraway look on her face, and they would hug her, and sit together in silence. They worked. They trained, they lived, they breathed together. They were attuned to every movement, a minute change. If they wanted to fly, they needed to know each other. And they did. Did know each other, did fly. Until they didn’t.

So now there lay a single Flightless Grayson. Alone and unknown. 

His head was hurting. His hand touched something wet, when it reached his face. Weird. There was no rain that night, not even a drizzle. His brows knitted together in confusion, and he started looking around for the source of the water. Why would it be- Oh. Right. He was crying. That made so much sense, he wasn’t sure why he hadn’t thought of it sooner. The breakdown was a long time coming.

The bullet point of his plan, saying to avoid showing any weaknesses, crying listed as an example of such, came blaring alarms in his head, but he decided to cut himself some slack. He managed everything pretty well, all things considered. Besides, it was good to let his emotions loose once in a while, bottling it all up could only work for so long. 

Time passed differently, up on the rooftop of the Capitol’s tribute centre. The entire city was covered in a light glow, making only single, the most stubborn stars visible. The crying certainly didn’t help in assessing the time he spent there. It was long enough for the tears to dry out, but not the crying induced headache to cease. Dick was lost staring ahead, without a thought in his head. He had barely registered the door opening, but it was what woke him from his stupor. He only became consciously aware of someone’s presence once said person joined him, sitting down next to him.

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere, you know”, Jenny said instead of a regular greeting. He could feel her eyes on him, studying the state he put himself in. He should get defensive or ashamed, but it was Jenny, and he was too tired for it. Still, it didn’t stop him from stubbornly looking at the horizon. She hummed, as if his ignorance told her everything. Dick personally doubted it, they might have decided on being actual friends, but he usually prided himself in being harder to read than that. Or maybe the girl had something more to herself he was unable to see. 

“Have you ever kissed anyone?”

The question was so out of pocket, Dick actually forgot about his brooding, and whipped his head to stare at her. This time Jenny was ignoring him, staring into the few visible stars.

“What kind of question even is that?”

But she didn’t hear him, or at least pretended not to. Her hands were trailing patterns he couldn’t see. 

“I haven’t. I’m sixteen, and I’ve never kissed anyone. Used to believe in a great love, wanted my first kiss to be the one . With a person I’d spent my entire life with. It was supposed to be magical, like I’ve been looking at the world from underneath the water, not from behind a smudged mirror, and meeting this person, kissing them, loving them… That would be the breath of fresh air, seeing the world in all its glory for the first time. Can you believe that?” Jenny chuckled. She then turned and looked at him with the kind of intensity that he found himself unable to look away. “I was fucking pathetic. Poor little Jenny, believing in magic and true love. Poor little Jenny, so worthless, that the only thing she’s good for is biting the fucking dust.”

It wasn’t often that Dick found himself frozen, but he was now. Jenny wasn’t looking at him anymore, and he followed her example, staring into the city below him.

“I don’t think it’s pathetic”, he confessed, the night their only witness. “I don’t think I could ever be with a person who I couldn’t imagine spending my life with either. My parents were like that, you know. If true love or soulmates existed, they’d be the proof. They just belonged together. They were two halves of the same whole. Everyone could see it. You’d have to be blind not to notice it in their performance. But it wasn’t just big and showy. Not that their flying, their holding and catching each other, being the only thing standing between life and death wasn’t impressive. Because it was. I can tell you that as a person who’s had the first row sit their entire life. But it was also the little things. Our cabin was tiny, and yet they could just move in it with so much grace, it looked like a dance. They could communicate without words. And you know, once my mom was teaching me how to make flower crowns. My dad tried to help, he spent an hour picking flowers, just for the stems to be too short. I don’t think I’ve heard my mom laughing like that. Next thing you know, my mom and I were sitting there in our flower crowns, while my dad was learning how to make his own. I swear he was more concentrated than when he was training. This? This is what I want.”

He could remember this day so well. His dad swore, calling Mary a witch. She just hit him with her shawl, scolding him for saying such things in front of impressionable youth. John started muttering, and she made him start on his crown again. They could act cross all they wanted, the smiles on their faces were betraying their true feelings.

They fell into silence for a bit after that. Dick focused on the sight of the city. There were still some people milling around, with their expensive outfits and careless attitude. So blind and oblivious to what was happening around them. It seemed even telling them directly, highlighting in neons, pointing directly was not enough to actually make them see . He was a bit jealous, he had to admit, of the sheer amount of ignorance they were capable of. On the other hand, he couldn’t scratch away a feeling that he would hate becoming it. He’d rather be dead than stripped away from everything him , just to become them. A mindless puppet.

Jenny’s voice came as a surprise. He forgot she was there for a moment. He might have thought she had left, if he hadn't heard any sound. 

“I kissed Claire.” The confession was so sudden and out of the blue for Dick, whose mind already drifted from the topic they had been discussing, that it took a moment to properly settle, but made him whip his head towards her immediately anyway. “And I don’t mind a little peck of the lips kiss, I mean a real kiss kiss, a full on makeout session.”

A laugh escaped her lips, that made him shiver. There was no joy behind it. It wasn’t a companion of a teenager’s in love giddy love confession. It was empty, eerily so. Not just from the lack of happiness, but from the lack of anything . Dick didn’t sense any anger, that would be so in place right then. Because Jenny should be angry, she deserved to feel angry. At the world, at the people, at the injustice that put her in that situation in the first place. Because it was all just unfair. If Kent’s hand pulled a slip of paper even millimetres to the right or left, up or down, if he mixed them all a second longer or shorter, she wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place. She would be able to wait for her happy magical first kiss with the love of her life, who she would spend then the rest of her life with, they would grow old together and be happy. And now Dick was getting worked up, angry on her behalf, while she just sounded completely and utterly empty. 

“I think she’s pretty. And she was funny, and nice, and definitely flirting with me. Don’t get me wrong, I really do feel like if I was able to know her longer, I’d actually really like her. It’s just the time is running out, and I don’t know what else to do. So I kissed Claire, that’s what I did.” Her breath hitched. Dick could see how her fingers tightened on the roof, like the girl was trying to ground herself. “And you know what the worst part is? I didn’t even like it that much. There was nothing magical about it, and the feeling of her saliva in my mouth was kinda gross. So do you want to tell me that this is what I wasted my entire life waiting for?”

And Dick? Dick didn’t know what he was supposed to say to that. He’s never kissed anyone, they’ve already established that. He was also fairly certain that he, at the ripe age of twelve, wasn’t just equipped to be giving this kind of advice. He didn’t know what to say, if there was even anything he could say, but Jenny… She looked like she was about to fall apart. As if she was bottling it all up, and now it threatened to spill all over. So Dick, he did the only thing he could, he shifted closer, and put his arm around the older girl. 

She didn’t react at first. Just froze the second she felt his touch. It lasted only a second, but it was almost long enough for Dick to pull away, thinking it was a mistake. Almost. Before he could retract, a sob burst out of Jenny, and between one moment and the next, she melted into his embrace, grabbing onto his shirt. Falling apart. 

Whatever walls she built, whatever strings were holding her together, it all came crumbling down in a flood of tears, snot and screams no one would ever hear. Jenny had been trying so hard, all she wanted was to live. Live like tomorrow would never come because it wouldn’t. Their executions varied completely, but the tactic underneath all of it was the same — keep busy, don’t let yourself get a chance to actually think about what was to come. 

“I lied,” her voice was quieter than a whisper, he could have blamed it on his imagination, if he didn’t know better. “It- it wasn’t the worst part. Oh the kissing itself is disgusting, but then we pulled away, just barely, and I looked into her eyes. I swear they were sparkling. And they were just so warm. For a moment I forgot how to breathe. Then she smiled, and I just had to kiss her again, you know? I wish we could just hide underneath the blanket and pretend the world wasn’t real. That it was just her and me, and the air we shared, and the glances we stole. So this is worse. The fact that I wish I could just kiss her again.”

Two days, sixteen hours and thirty five minutes.

Chapter Text

The silence was tense. It sat heavily, wrapped around their shoulders, choking them, pulling them down under its weight. One could assume that gathering so many children was bound to make noise. Be it excited chatter or nervous scattering, there was supposed to be noise. That’s the law of nature, that’s how the rules work. So now its absence was a clear sign of wrongness that surrounded them.

Someone shuffled, and immediately all eyes were on them. Waiting, hunting. The boy seemed to try making himself look smaller, but it was useless. He was a prey, and he’s just revealed his presence to a room full of predators. It was easy like that — to forget. Before he moved, they were all one and the same, but now the roles were assigned. Still, no one moved, desperate to keep the status quo. 

They were all Schrödinger's cats, predators and prey, always in superposition, forever until they moved. They were a wave, everywhere at once, until someone decided to look, to draw their names, and turned them into particles, so easy to shoot, so easy to kill . 

One by one, the box opened, and there was one cat less.

Maybe the most bizarre thing wasn’t the silence, but the laughter that pierced it abruptly. It wasn’t a warm sound of joy or even a drizzle of relief. No, it was a cold sneer, that had no place in their box. It was a sound of a predator, amused by their pathetic attempts at remaining still. He was itching, invisible bugs crawling under his skin, everything begging for him to ride, to hide from the watchful gaze of a predator. The silence, the stillness — they were supposed to protect them, hide them from the unwanted eyes — alive and dead, predator and prey, but the boy from One seemed to defy the rule. He looked at them, through the box, and saw nothing but weak prey. 

Dick held back a shadder that wanted to rip through his body, a membrane trying to depolarize after an impulse hit it. He didn’t. But it was a close thing. He knew how important it was not to react. Examining reaction was a crucial part in reading people. The rule was, that as long as they kept still, they were an unknown, if Dick reacted to the provocation, a blatant bluff, he’d move, therefore breaking the rule and sealing his role as a prey. 

Unfortunately he was one of the few. 

The most unimpressed group remained the Careers. Most of them huffed, the guy’s District partner rolled her eyes at him. He must be doing that a lot then, if he managed to annoy his allies to that extent. Confident, braggy, a kind of person that would definitely underestimate him. The same couldn’t be said about the girl from Two. As soon as he looked at her, their eyes met, and Dick knew he had made a mistake. 

A truly rookie mistake, he got caught gauging everyone’s reaction. To be fair, the girl did exactly the same, nevertheless she could afford it, he could not. She was dangerous, she was smart, and everyone knew it. Truly, he didn’t need to know anything, but the fact she’s been mentored by Talia Al Ghul to know that. He should have lowered his eyes, acted abashed, like a scared child looking for comfort in other people’s reactions. He didn’t. He met her gaze straight on, not backing down. It was a gamble, unnecessary risk.

There was silence. This time not from the lack of sound, he was pretty sure the One guy was still making ruckus, and somewhere in the back of his consciousness he registered as the girl from his District got called on, but that didn’t matter. For a second or two, realistically speaking, even though it felt like much longer, they were locked in a tense battle, just the two of them, an isolated system.

She nodded, and Dick could finally breathe. He wasn’t sure what conclusion she’s reached, but the noose has loosened, the day of judgement prolonged.

He wasn’t so obvious as to let out a sigh of relief. Now you may call him stupid, repeating the same old trick, expecting a different result. Sue him, for wishing that at least one thing in his life could be easy. Jenny looked furious, ready to wipe the smug grin off of One’s face. For a moment a thought crosses his head. ‘I’d pay to see it’ , he thinks, and then immediately guilt comes flooding in. A stupid, naive thought. There’s a taste of bitterness in his mouth, because that is exactly what they do. People pay to see them beat each other up, and then die one by one. And he’s not so much different than them after all.

Craig and Louanne both seemed shaken up, Sandy on the other hand tried covering her distress up with distaste. It was a good strategy, although her mask required more work in order to actually fool everyone. And Claire was looking right at him. Dick tensed, he knew better, but that didn’t matter, because Claire saw . It was dumb, he hadn’t even done anything, but that hadn’t helped the guilt from flooding in. 

This time it was different. The world hadn’t frozen, locking them in the battlefield, weighing their worth. Dick looked away first. Because just as Claire had seen his previous struggle, in that quick eye contact he’d seen suspicion in her gaze. He didn’t know why it was weighing so heavily on him. No one here had been suspicious of him, but it wasn’t as if she’d been wrong. He was suspicious, he was a traitor. He thought he came to terms with it, but there he was, succumbing to shame under Claire’s unrelented watch. 

It didn’t stop. He could feel her observing him the entire time. The waiting room, previously entirely filled with nervous Tributes, started emptying out. He should focus on himself, on the game plan. One of the most important events pre-Arena was near, and somehow his stupid heart was beating too quickly, and his attention kept drifting to the girl in the corner of his eye. Only the sudden movement from her side broke the spell.

It disturbed him. From all his allies only Jenny and Louanne remained to be called upon. He hadn’t even noticed when Sandy and Craig left. He hadn’t focused on the Careers and their behaviours. He’s lost time, it’s made him more unsure of himself than anything yet. The girl from Two was still there. She could have left hours ago, yet there she was. Standing there, waiting. 

He knew why she was there. Getting lower scores was a sound strategy, getting underestimated could really do wonders. It was awful news for him. The girl had to be skilled, that was for certain, but she was also smart, she lacked the arrogance of the others. Half of Dick’s strategy relied on him being seen as charming, yet harmless. She was making it really hard for him. But he was Dick Grayson, he wouldn’t back away from a challenge.

The easiest way to fool someone was to play into their ego. She didn’t trust his act, so he’d provide her with a weakness. He let his eyes subtly fall on her, and immediately fixed his posture. It wasn’t a big change, no one not currently observing him would notice. His back was a little bit more straight, chin raised slightly higher, but his fists had tightened, before he deliberately loosened them. He was a good actor, she could see that, but she also believed to be able to see through him. Unfortunately, he wasn’t a good actor, he was a great one.

“District Eight, Richard Grayson”, the real show was about to begin.

Before he could get up, Jenny’s hand struck towards him, grasping his wrist. His gaze followed their linked hands until it reached her eyes. There was so much sincerity there, he barely managed not to recoil. It scared him, in a different way than everything else here did. Because Jenny was the third person in a short time span who looked at him, but – unlike the others – she seemed to see through him. No armor, no wall around him. No figuring out his secret intentions. He felt so horribly young at that moment, and he hated it. He didn’t pull out though. 

He squeezed her hand, and she let him leave without any objection. 

The room was giant, now when he was the only person there. Just passing the threshold itself made him feel like a wave of pressure just fell onto his shoulders. He’s been so focused on intertributes dynamics, he kind of forgot what was waiting for him. His real enemies were sitting above, drowning in luxury, drinking wine, and laughing. Most of them haven’t even paid any attention to him. And that, that was unacceptable. He couldn’t afford being forgettable. Dick felt a pang of anger rush through him. How dared they? Come here, carrying the weight of two dozens children's lives, and somehow not care at all. Not even look at them, while they tried their damndest to prove their worth. These people were bored, talking about whatever rich fucks like them talked about, all their attention gone after the first few Districts. They probably didn’t care for anyone after the Careers performance, deeming them unimportant. Dick stood tall (or as tall as his less than 5 feet of height allowed him) and graceful.

“Ladies and gentlemen, my name is Richard Grayson, and it’s my utmost honour to be here representing District Eight”, the words made him want to gag internally, the foul taste of his lies weighing heavily on his tongue “I present you a fraction of what a skilled acrobat is capable of.”

It was a tightrope. He was used to balancing on one, he could do that in his sleep. Both now – here in front of the sponsors, and back in the circus, losing his footsteps might cost him everything. Just get enough of their attention to make them care, but not enough to make them look too closely, to burn him like an ant under a magnifier. Just a tightrope. Same old trick.

So he should be fine. He should smile and do his job.

Except he wasn’t.

Dick used to think he was above that. There was no room for nerves, not in the performance, where they were more likely to kill you than an honest mistake. You had to go up there, shut off your mind, and do what you do best, trusting your body, because it could do it, just as it had a million times before. Of course it hadn’t stopped the ropes from breaking, and maybe that was a reason why now Dick was stressed (because he wasn’t scared, he wouldn’t admit to that, stress was the best he could do), even though he knew better.

Most of the time he would close his eyes and think about his parents, smiling and encouraging, knowing he could do it even before he did. It wasn’t a possibility now. From that moment all he could think about were brains and blood and broken still bodies.

But maybe that was alright. His parents made a beautiful show before they died. If they knew what would happen, they wouldn’t get in the air in the first place, but frankly Dick didn’t get that choice. Neither did they in the end. 

The audience roared as Dick smiled and waved, welcoming them to the show. The circus music echoing loudly in his ears, the familiarity taking over. His parents, the other performers were all there, ready to show the work of their life.

(His name had been called during the Reaping.)

While Zitka and other elephants charmed the audience, Dick slowly made his way on the ladder. Up, higher and higher, above the tribunes, hundreds of feet in the air, one rung after the other. Up.

(He arrived at the Capitol, and took part in everything they set him up to do.)

He was the tallest boy in the world, looking at the ants that were people far below, standing at the edge of the world. The music was reaching crescendo, he’s been doing it his entire life, and he knew his cue was approaching unforgivingly. He looked behind him, but the ladder was gone. There was nowhere else to go. The show must go on. And so Dick did the only thing he could — he leaped.

His routine had to be adjusted. He started by doing a back handspring. Followed by another series of complicated flips, one after the other in quick succession. But he wasn’t in a gymnastic competition, his skills, while impressive, would not win him too much favour, deemed useless in what was to come. Dick took a running start, evolving into front handsprings, until he vaulted himself at the wall just below the lounge. He made a quick way of scaling the wall, up until he reached his audience. Only his head and upper torso reached above the edge, when he waved at them, before backflipping into the open air behind him. He grabbed a rope hanging from a ceiling, making his way down quickly albeit gracefully.

His hands touched the trapeze, and the rope held. It wasn’t the end, though. He still had to go through the show, and the rope had been slowly tearing, sabotaged even before he got on the scene. Still, he couldn’t back down, just go through with it one flip at the time. He’s been doomed since the very beginning. He would fall, that much was for certain, the only thing he didn’t know was when. This story was always going to end bloody, mingled on the ground.

In another universe he would send the sponsors a glare, he might have even thrown a dagger straight at them. Cursing them out, fighting the show they put him in with all his might. As it was, Dick just smiled, a small shy thing, that somehow managed to look cute on children.

In another universe he would still be a child, held by his parents far away from this place.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t this one.

Two days, two hours and four minutes.

Chapter Text

He felt exhausted. The entire day of social interactions has completely drained him. (Dick tried to not think about the fact that talking with people used to be one of his favourite things in the world.) There was a shame underlying all his actions. (So he failed at not thinking about it, so what?) He was currently laying on a couch of their District’s apartment. They had been waiting for score announcements for what felt like hours, and Dick had been grounded by a positively annoyed Jenny, apparently his pacing was ruining her vibe, whatever that meant. 

Unable to walk himself in circles, his foot started shaking on its own accord. Dik barely restrained the urge to grumble at his unfair treatment, just a reminder that he was supposed to be charming, keeping him at bay. Jenny was one lucky girl that the circumstances they were in allowed her to avoid his wrath. The force he unleashed after anyone tried to keep him still was legendary. The Capitol would not survive him.

“Can you just stop?”

Dick turned, plucked away from his thoughts by Jenny who apparently didn’t appreciate his mercy. So ungrateful.

“I’m literally not doing anything.” His brows furrowed from confusion. And also annoyance, but mostly confusion.

“I can hear you thinking from way over here, it’s annoying.”

“Well that, dear Jenny, is called having a brain. Maybe you’d be able to do that if you had one.”

She rolled her eyes at him, in the biggest, most exaggerated way possible, if it wasn’t aimed at him, he’d be impressed.

“And your foot keeps shaking, I’m beginning to worry it might fly away if you don’t stop.”

“Oh excuse me for trying to move a bit, god forbid someone doesn’t sit still like some gargoyle. I’ll have you know, I was not meant for this, I was born-”

“‘-born in a circus’. Yeah, I know, you’ve said it only like a hundred times.” 

“Well then maybe if I say it a hundred more, it’ll finally register in that head of yours.”

The adults stood in the kitchen observing the bickering children. It was weird — seeing them acting so their age, they had gotten used to the somber reality. But there it was, even the time running out didn’t manage to extinguish the light inside them. It seemed like Kent wanted to say something, but was too worried that it might ruin the fragile moment.

Dick could see their faces in the corner of his eyes. Kent looked weirdly content, as if they weren’t on the opposite side of the conflict here, as if he cared about them. That was insane. But so was his soft smile, feeling oh so pleased at their behaviour. Shortsighted, that’s what it was. Foolishly naive. Mary was cut from a harder stone than that. She looked like she was trying her best not to hear them. That was the biggest difference between the two of them — Mary remembered that come tomorrow she will not see one of them ever again, probably either.

A loud noise came from the TV stopping all of them dead in their tracks as the program meant to showcase the Tributes’ scores started on the screen. As much as Dick’s been fidgeting, unable to keep himself still as they’ve been awaiting this moment, he found himself completely still, eyes glued to the screen. Jenny straightened on the couch beside him, moving just slightly towards him. Dick’s brain barely caught up to it as most of his attention was focused on Vicky Vale smiling at him in 2D. He didn’t even notice that Kent moved until his hand touched the backrest a few inches from the boy’s head.

“Welcome, everyone, on the night we’ve all been waiting for. This year’s Hunger Games have already proven to be of amazing quality. From the moving and absolutely breathtaking Reapings, to then seeing our lovely Tributes in the most outstanding costumes, provided by the best stylists Panem has to offer. We spent the last couple of days rewatching the highlights of the previous Games, and speculating what we may expect this year. Everyone’s been wondering how our dear Tributes compare when they have such big shoes left to fulfill from their predecessors. Well, ask no more, tonight we come to you with the news we’ve all been waiting for. Earlier this day our competitors had a chance to prove their skills to the selected judges who then scored them on a scale from one to twelve.” 

Dick’s stopped listening when Vicky introduced her panel of guests who started speculating. It was dumb. They didn’t even have anything to speculate on yet. Really they could just hurry up and give them the scores, so they can have an actually meaningful discussion, instead of repeating the say shit they’ve been saying this whole week.

It felt like too long, and yet he stayed there staring at the screen, even when any information flew right above his head. That was it. That was the moment when it would be decided if his plan had any chance of succeeding. If Dick Grayson had any chance of support, or if he’d be left completely alone. He was so close. 

There was a warm presence beside him, and when Dick finally managed to tear his eyes away from the TV, he saw Jenny, her shoulder pressed to his, grounding him. Right, they still had a little bit of time. He tried sending her a grateful smile, but what came out was a half-formed grimace at best. It didn’t seem to matter, because Jenny just caught his hands in hers, stopping them from shaking he hadn’t even realized they were doing. She didn’t return a smile of her own, but that was okay, he knew her. 

“And now, for the moment we’ve all been waiting for”, they both turned their heads when the time had finally come.

It started pretty predictable. The boy from One got the lowest score, that said the “lowest” score was still an eight. His District partner got a nine, just as the next boy from Two. Talia’s Tribute got a ten. Of course she did, of course her confidence wasn’t baseless. But that wasn’t surprising, he knew it was coming. Dick involuntarily stopped breathing, waiting for these next scores to be revealed. It was dumb, he wasn’t supposed to care for these kids, nothing good would come from it. (He convinced himself it was for the wellbeing of their alliance).

“Male Tribute from District Three, Craig Rockland, Six”. Of course, he shouldn’t have doubted Craig, for being small and unassuming, he still had some wicked technological skills, and he took to the survival training as fish in a water. He probably got underscored as well. Craig in his full potential deserved a seven at least. Now he wasn’t sure if it was a tactic or just a result of pressure.

“Female Tribute from District Three, Sandy Cole, Four”. Dick couldn’t help but cringe a bit. Unfortunately, that was also a logical score for Sandy to get, for all her wits and confidence, she didn’t have any real skills to showcase during the assessments.

Time flew agonizingly fast and slow simultaneously. District Four came and went in a blink of an eye, same as Five and Six. Dick still took note of each of their scores, trying to compare what he saw on a screen to what he knew about them. He saw most of them in training, but obviously didn’t believe in them. They could easily be hiding some skills from them (just like he did). He ignored the pang of guilt, telling him that they were some random kids who weren’t criminal masterminds.

“–even, Claire Shipman, Eight”.

He stared with wide eyes at the screen. Of course Claire had the highest score out of all of the outer Districts, on par with some Careers. She was good, he knew that from the moment he first approached her. Maybe that would help their alliance get some more credibility. His mind was reeling to start planning some strategy around it, but his body was unable to move. His primary focus was on the screen. He must have stopped breathing at some point. Claire was a girl from District Seven which meant…

“Male Tribute from District Eight, Richard Grayson, Seven”.

Relief spilled out of him with powerful waves. He did it. He did it! He managed to get a pretty high score which combined with his unassuming posture, should ideally at least intrigue some people, and show them that their guilty pleasure little kid choice had a chance in this competition.

He didn’t let himself celebrate too early, he still needed to note the other Tributes’ scores, and plan his way around them. Most importantly right after him was Jenny.

“– Jenny Noblesse, One”.

Oh no, Jenny, what did you do?

The silence that came after it was deafening. TV was forgotten, following announcements falling on deaf ears. Dick stared at Jenny, his mouth slightly agape. He didn’t notice how Mary and Kent were also watching the girl, all his attention searching her face. She refused to look at him, stubbornly glaring at the screen. 

The alarm bells were screaming in his head. “Why would you do that?”, he wanted to ask. He wanted to shake her, wanted to force her to just look him in the eyes and tell him it was wrong. He wanted her to scream, he wanted to scream himself. He wanted to scream at her until he got a reaction, any reaction from her. Did she want to die? 

And that, that right there, is what made the storm in his head stop. Because he knew the answer to this question. Jenny was nothing but transparent in that regard, he just chose to ignore it. Dick visibly defleated, all the anger, all the fight draining from him, leaving him with sagged shoulders and a pain in his chest that just wouldn’t stop.

He couldn’t stop a “Jenny–” that escaped his lips.

Maybe that was a pure heartbreak in his voice that made her finally turn towards him. It just made him wish she hadn’t. Jenny felt much smaller than she was. Her lips trembling were just a prequel to her entire body shaking. Dick could easily see tears gathered in her eyes, that she stubbornly kept from spilling out. 

“Look at that, Boy Wonder, you actually did that, huh?  Proved everyone you’re better than me.” She laughed. A poor, broken imitation of it. Completely humourless despite her attempt at joking.

Something in his chest tightened, threatening to strangle him from the inside out. He marched through it, of course he did. For a moment tears glinted in his eyes before he forced them back, there was no need for them. 

“Has there ever been any doubts?”, Dick asked cockily, flashing his most blinding smile. It could feel wrong and insensitive in some eyes, but Jenny thought she could pride herself in actually getting to know him, her friend, in the last few days. She saw it, the minute change in his face, a carefully placed facade. But still, in that moment, that small silence in between them talking, he looked at her. Really looked at her, making her shadder, feeling naked on display. Even now, behind the easy smile, there was something intense hidden in his eyes. She could ask, make them talk about their feelings. She was old enough to realize that keeping it all bottled up wasn’t healthy, but just this once Jenny wanted to be selfish. So it wasn’t much of a choice at all. She smiled back sharply, mind busy searching for best insults, drowning out the everpresent all-consuming fear.

Just a few more minutes.

One day, seventeen hours and forty eight minutes.