here to kingdom come - Chapter Four: have no place to stay
Title: here to kingdom come
Author: alinaandalion
Rating: M/NC-17
Spoilers: All three books of the Hunger Games trilogy.
Warnings: Drug use, cursing, dubious con, and character death
Characters: Sophie Devereaux, Nathan Ford, Finnick Odair, Johanna Mason, Eliot Spencer, Parker, Alec Hardison, Tara Cole, Katniss Everdeen, Peeta Mellark, various other characters, and minor OCs.
Pairings: Nate/Sophie, Sophie/Finnick, Sophie/Tara, Parker/Hardison, Annie/Finnick, Peeta/Katniss, and Johanna/Gale.
Summary: As a Victor, Sophie Devereaux has spent the last fifteen years of her life trying not to feel. But rumors bring news of rebellion, hope for a better future. A second chance.
Part Two: this is what I chose
“nothing is going on here that I haven’t signed up for. There wasn’t a lot of choice, but there was some, and this is what I chose.”
- The Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood
“She offered herself to the big, bad wolf and didn’t scream when he took the first bite.”
- Wintergirls by Laurie Halse Anderson
“Blood is thicker than water. That’s what they say. But in truth, most things are.”
- The Sweet Far Thing by Libba Bray
have no place to stay
“If it keeps on raining, levee’s gonna break
If it keeps on raining, levee’s gonna break
When the levee breaks, have no place to stay”
- “When the Levee Breaks” by Led Zeppelin
It’s cold and dark when Sophie reaches her apartment in the Capitol. It’s not in the exact center of the city, but it’s close enough. The lights are already on, and Sophie sheds her coat as she steps inside and looks around.
Her Capitol apartment is nothing like her home in District Four. It’s a standard-issue for all victors, sterile white walls, dark grey carpet, and sleek black furniture. The impersonal nature of it doesn’t bother Sophie; it’s just a place for her to sleep at night.
“Isabel?” Sophie calls, striding through the living room and locating her bedroom.
Isabel appears behind her, and Sophie turns around, smiling. Isabel is an Avox, a servant provided by the Capitol. She’s a wisp of a woman, pale with silver blond hair, and she moves as silently as a ghost.
Sophie isn’t even sure if Isabel if her real name, but the way Sophie sees it, if she’s forced to have an Avox live with her, Sophie is going to actually speak to her instead of pretending that she’s not there.
Isabel takes Sophie’s coat and moves into the bedroom, placing it in the closet on the far side of the room.
Sophie sighs, sinking onto the bed. “I had supper on the train, so don’t worry about that. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Isabel nods her head and glides out, closing the door. Sophie wanders over to her window and gazes out over the city. It’s only been two months since the end of the 74th Hunger Games, and the only change has been the increasingly dropping temperature. Lights blink on and off down below; someone is always awake here.
She strips off her light sweater and pants, stretching. Tara will come by tomorrow, and Sophie can find out if there are any other victors in the Capitol at the moment. For now, Sophie glances at the bed and tries to decide on her next course of action. She’s not very tired, and she feels restless. There are plenty of clubs open. She can always spend a night out.
Her front door’s buzzer goes off, and Sophie groans; she doesn’t want a visitor right now, but she shrugs into a silk robe, tying it around her waist as she wanders to the living room. Isabel is already at the door, opening it and standing aside for the person outside.
Nate comes in and gives Sophie a small smile. “I heard you were going to be here for a little while.”
“And where did you hear that?” Sophie replies as she walks to her wet bar.
“You know that there aren’t secrets here.” Nate trails after her. “It is a little late, actually. What took so long?”
“The train was held up in District Three,” Sophie says mildly as she pours a small amount of whiskey into two glasses. “I didn’t pester my keepers with any questions, though. They seemed on edge.”
She turns to Nate, offers him a glass, and he takes it with a smirk; he drinks it all with one swallow and shifts past her to pour more. She sips at her glass and glances over his shoulder to see that Isabel has disappeared again.
“Probably a wise decision.” He walks to her couch and sits down. “How long are you going to be here?”
“Since you’re the one with all the information, maybe you can tell me that,” she teases as she settles on the far side of the couch, pulling her legs up onto the cushion beside her so that her toes just brush against his thigh.
He shakes his head. “I don’t know everything. Almost everything. The difference is important.”
Rolling her eyes, she watches him lift the decanter of whiskey he brought over with him and splash more into his glass. The low light plays over him, throwing his face into sharp relief. He’s more haggard than when they met, older, like life has beaten him down and he’s struggling just to get out of bed, much less bother with actually living.
It’s a problem that she doesn’t care to think about most of the time. She tends to take the path of least resistance with Nate when she can, when she thinks it won’t do any permanent damage. It hurts less that way.
“So are you here for business as well?” she asks quietly.
He pauses, his glass halfway to his mouth, his mouth tightening, his eyes going a little darker. He lets out a short bark of laughter and slings back the whiskey.
“Of course. Why else would I come here?”
“It’s just that…”
“I’m not a normal favorite.” He smiles, but it looks more like he’s baring his teeth at her. “Unlike you.”
She narrows her eyes and sits a little straighter. “What are you saying?”
His fingers fumble along the cut crystal decanter, but he manages to pour more whiskey for himself. She drains her glass and sets it down on the table, letting him give her more; when she reaches for it, the dark liquid sits just below the rim.
“People talk, you know,” she murmurs. “You’ve never fetched a high bid. Not even the year you won your Games.”
His hand tightens around his glass. “Do you feel superior because more people have made you their whore?”
“No, I just think you need to understand that they think I’m worth more for the exact same service.”
She takes her glass, drinks deeply, wincing at the burn. Nate stares at her, his hand still wrapped around his whiskey, his face like stone. She knows this will go one of two ways: He will drink the whiskey, say something awful and leave. Or he’ll drink the whiskey and let the moment pass, slip back into the good part of their friendship.
The former happens more often than the latter. She resents him for that far more than she should.
The furrow between his eyebrows deepens, tightens, then he ducks his head and drinks only half of his whiskey. She lets out a long breath and stretches her legs out more fully, her feet pressing harder against his leg.
He grumbles a little, but he tugs her legs into his lap. Her robe falls open a little; she doesn’t move to adjust it.
“How is life in District Four?” he asks, shifting uncomfortably as he moves his hands from the couch’s arm to his neck.
She shrugs. “Chilly.”
The whiskey has started to go to her head, and she feels warm, languid, more aware of the ways she can seduce him. His fingers skitter up and down her leg, nervous. She drinks more from her glass and licks her lips.
Nate watches her, his eyes wide, and he moves to his feet in a sudden motion that nearly sends her to the floor. He rubs his hands along his legs and clutches the curls on the back of his neck nervously.
“I should go. It’s getting late,” he stammers.
She follows him to the door. He pulls it open, starts outside, and turns back. As she steps a little closer, the heat rises in her skin when he sways slightly in her direction. The seconds stretch out between them, a moment that will shatter if she moves first. With a shake of his head, it dissipates into nothing, and his lips quirk into a stiff smile as he turns to leave.
When he’s gone, she closes the door and leans heavily against it, surveying the room. She sees the open decanter on the table and his half-finished glass. Sighing, she walks to the glass and picks it up, swirls the liquid around, considers.
She places her mouth over where the glass had touched his lips and finishes off the whiskey.
***************
Two nights later, she goes out. Nate asked her to meet him at Vices, which she still doesn’t understand. He certainly has his own addictions, but he doesn’t fit in with the loud bass beat of the music or the slick crowd that revolves in and out of the doors.
Still, she doesn’t protest. When it’s not Hunger Games season in the Capitol, they all have a little more free time, their appointments spread out over a longer period instead of crammed into a series of days.
She has three weeks to spend in the Capitol this time around, with about fifteen appointments already scheduled. She might gain a few more, but those come from much lower bids. This means she only has to stay a few hours compared to all night with her more expensive clients.
She sits at the bar in a tight black dress with an open back, sipping her fruity drink, the soft fabric sliding pleasantly against her thighs when she crosses her legs. Vices is still the most popular among the victors and the more powerful citizens of the Capitol. This translates to more privacy, which in turn means a steady underground drug trade and secret meetings.
Johanna appears at Sophie’s elbow, her short black hair in stiff spikes, her hazel eyes raking over Sophie’s body.
“I was expecting Nate,” Sophie says mildly, motioning to the bartender to bring a fresh drink for Johanna.
Johanna shrugs and hops onto the closest bar stool. “He’s busy with a client. He said as long as I’m sleeping on his couch, I could meet with you for him.”
Johanna takes the dark red cocktail from the bartender and gulps it down while Sophie watches her. Johanna has her own apartment, just like all the victors, but she never uses it. Johanna seems to prefer Nate’s apartment for some reason, but Sophie has wandered out to her own couch some nights to find Johanna there.
“So, what are you supposed to tell me?” Sophie asks, finishing off her drink.
Johanna slides off her stool and grabs Sophie’s hand. “Come on, let’s go to the back rooms. I can explain there.”
Sophie snags the new drink the bartender just placed in front of her and follows after Johanna to the back. There are rooms kept back here for clandestine hook-ups to discourage sex in the bathrooms or in the back alleyways; but it also caters to a clientele of a higher class, so the accommodations are not monitored by microphones or cameras.
Johanna picks one of the middle doors and drags Sophie inside. When Sophie moves to lock the door, Johanna waves her away.
“No, we’re expecting someone else,” she says impatiently. Then Johanna flings herself onto the bed and stretches provocatively. “We can be putting on a show for him when he does get here.”
“I didn’t sign on for kinky sex tonight,” Sophie replies as she sits down on one of the cushioned chairs. “Who are we waiting on?”
Johanna smirks. “It’s a surprise.”
Sophie swallows half of her cocktail in response. The door opens slowly, and she stiffens as Plutarch Heavensbee walks in.
“You invited a Gamemaker here?” Sophie hisses, glaring at Johanna.
“Relax, it’s not anything weird,” Johanna says with a roll of her eyes. “Maybe.”
Plutarch gives them a wide smile. “Good, you managed to come. Where is Nathan?”
“Business,” Johanna replies shortly. “So, we can get on with things.”
“Of course, of course,” Plutarch says good-naturedly as he sinks into the chair opposite Sophie. “My, it’s been a long day.”
“I’m assuming that this clandestine meeting has something to do with some sort of illegal activity,” Sophie says slowly, downing the rest of her drink. “So, please, tell me what is going on.”
“Panem is on the verge of a rebellion.” Plutarch leans toward Sophie, his eyes shining with excitement. “And, unlike last time, we’re prepared to take down the Capitol. I’ve been laying the plans for this for years.”
“What’s caused this change?” Sophie asks, already wondering if this has anything to do with the Girl on Fire and those damned berries.
“Katniss. Holding those berries out is being seen as a moment of rebellion against the Capitol that all of the Districts are latching onto,” he explains. “We want to use her as the figurehead of this new rebellion, a symbol of the resistance. The Mockingjay.”
Sophie sits back in her chair, crosses her arms across her chest. She’s not blind; she’s heard and seen signs of rebellion in several of the districts over the past months. She knows that even District Four has not been immune to murmurs of discontent over increased quotas.
She wants to instantly sign onto this rebellion, throw everything she has into it. Except that she has Finnick, Annie, and Mags to think about, not to mention all the people in her district that Snow can use against her. She has to be sure.
“How are you going to accomplish overthrowing the Capitol?” she asks. “The Capitol has the superior weaponry, more manpower. We can’t fight them.”
“We have District Thirteen,” Plutarch tells her with a grin.
“And he isn’t bullshitting you,” Johanna puts in from where she is lounging on the bed. “I always thought that place was a bombed-out wasteland, but apparently they’re living underground.”
“If I did agree to join the cause, what would you expect me to do?” Because that is the real question, and it doesn’t matter how selfish it makes her look. It’s always better to know what’s ahead than to trust authority blindly.
“Watch over Katniss and Peeta. Their Victory Tour is starting soon, and though I don’t believe they will be sold like the rest of you right now, they still have the pressures of their faked romance. Snow is furious with that girl, and he’s looking for any excuse to get rid of her.” Plutarch sighs and rubs a hand against his forehead. “Not only that, but they’ll be acting as mentors for the Quarter Quell, which is never a pleasant Hunger Games regardless of what’s going on. It’s going to be even worse now.”
“So we’re basically just babysitting a couple of teenagers,” Johanna says in a bored voice. “I want to be in on the fighting part of things.”
“One step at a time, Johanna,” Plutarch says with a laugh. He looks at Sophie. “Are you with us?”
The answer comes to her readily, but the words die in her mouth. If she agrees, she is making a decision for Finnick, Annie, and Mags, a choice she is almost sure they will support, but it still feels like she will be no different than Snow and the Capitol. She knows Finnick, though; she knows how eager he has been at the idea of an uprising in District Four. Mags will call her a fool if Sophie goes home and explains how she passed up a chance at freedom to stay in relative safety. Annie will follow Finnick to the ends of the earth, so, honestly, the choice really is Sophie’s to make.
Sophie sighs and shrugs her shoulders. “If only because I know everyone I care about will jump at this chance. I’m in.”
Plutarch grins and bounces to his feet. “Oh, good, I had hoped you would join the cause. Now, I have another meeting tonight, so you ladies will have to excuse me.”
Johanna rolls her eyes as Plutarch leaves the room, and she props herself up on an elbow. “So, if you want to wait here, Nate was supposed to meet up with us sometime soon. I have a half-decent looking guy out there who keeps buying me drinks, and I think I’m going to see if he’s still hanging around the bar.”
“I’ll wait here for Nate,” Sophie says quietly, smiling a little as Johanna shimmies off the bed and tugs her dress a little too low over her breasts.
Johanna winks at Sophie as she saunters past. “Just don’t wear him out too much. He is getting on in years, after all.”
Sophie rolls her eyes and waves Johanna away. When she’s alone in the room, Sophie takes the time to examine her surroundings. She’s never been back in this part of the club; she doesn’t have sex with random strangers in the Capitol, at least not when she has a choice about it.
It’s a simple set-up, two chairs and a bed, dim lighting to set the mood. The walls are painted a light gold that glitters oddly in the glow of the lamps. She smirks a little bit when she notices the black bedspread and sheets.
She hears the door open behind her and she turns to send the intruder away. The words die in her mouth when her eyes land on Nate. She moves toward him, a warm smile on her face, but she stops a few feet short of him.
He’s shaking with some sort of nervous energy, his eyes dilated too much, every movement jerky and uncontrolled.
She’s seen him like this before, fresh from an appointment and still high on Ecstasy, but they’ve never been alone; she feels a desperate need to have Johanna back here, acting as a buffer between the two of them.
His mouth curves into a slow smile, and he walks in her direction. His strides are slower than normal, as though he has to remind himself how to walk.
“Did you have a busy night?” she asks, skirting around him when he drifts closer.
Nate shrugs. “Same as usual.”
His hair is a tangled mass of wet curls, and he keeps running a hand through them, making it an even bigger mess. But that means he went home and showered and then decided to seek her out. This isn’t random, and she finds the thought disturbingly pleasant.
“I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he says in a low voice.
He moves forward, and she takes a few steps back before realizing that he’s effectively herding her against the wall. His hand lands on her arm, and her back hits the wall with a soft thud, the shock pushing the air out of her lungs. His other hand moves to the skin her dress’s open back exposes, his fingers trailing along the faint knobs of her spine.
“Is that so?” Her voice is too breathy, and she swallows against the dryness of her throat.
His right hand moves from her arm to her hip, and he rubs his thumb against the soft silky fabric, his fingers almost grazing the skin of her thigh where the dress stops. Her whole body strains towards him even as she tries to get herself back under control.
This is utter insanity, but when he finally kisses her, his lips rough and aggressive, she finds that she doesn’t really care.
She slides her arms around his neck and pulls him closer; his fingers dig hard into her hip, so deep that she’ll have bruises there tomorrow. Moaning, she opens her mouth and lets him slide his tongue against hers as she slips her hands underneath his shirt, rakes her nails down his back.
He’s not coordinated enough to hold her up against the wall, which means they’ll end up on the floor soon if she doesn’t move them somewhere else. Not that she really cares, however, especially when his hand on her hip starts pushing up her dress, fingers tracing along the line of her underwear.
The arousal coils painfully inside her, burning, consuming, and she fists a hand in his hair, the other working his pants open with surprising speed and stroking his erection through his underwear. His hips jerk into her, the hand he has pressed against her back wraps around one of her dress straps and pulls, ripping the fabric, the silk shifting against her body. He slips his fingers inside her panties, brushes his thumb lightly against her clit.
She whines in the back of her throat and pushes forward against his body, twists her hand around his cock gently, dragging his bottom lip between her teeth. He slips one, two fingers inside her, curls them forward.
His mouth falls to her neck, and he murmurs her name, Sophie, his teeth pressing into her skin, his tongue smoothing over the marks. Her breath catches, and her mind finally catches up to her raging body.
“Wait, Nate, stop.” She pushes him back with a firm hand against his chest.
He starts to lean in towards her anyway, so she hits him with the heel of her hand. She doesn’t know how far he might go, especially with the drugs in his system. He clenches his fingers into a fist, then releases them, letting his arms hang loosely at his sides. Fumbling with his pants, he leaves.
She’s shocked by his lack of protest, but now that he’s gone, she sits down on the bed, her shoulders slumping. Her dress falls down her chest, exposing her left breast. She fumbles with the torn strap, but she can’t get a good enough grasp on the destroyed material to fix it.
Groaning, she presses her fingers against her temple.
“Having a little trouble?”
Sophie looks up and rolls her eyes at Johanna’s smirk. “Just a wardrobe malfunction. What are you doing here?”
“Saw Nate leave with a hard-on. Figured something must have happened between you two, and when you didn’t come out, I thought something bad had happened,” Johanna replies.
Johanna walks to the bed and leans over Sophie’s shoulder, pulling the torn strap tight and tying the loose ends together.
“Thanks,” Sophie says softly, her cheeks coloring with embarrassment.
Johanna shrugs. “Sure, whatever. Come on, let’s get you back to your place.”
“Do you want to stay the night?”
“Well, I’m not going back to Nate’s apartment while he’s still high. No way am I fucking his old ass.”
Sophie laughs a little at that and stands up slowly. Johanna grabs Sophie’s hand and holds on tight as she leads Sophie back through the club, skirting the crowd on the dance floor. The cold night raises goosebumps on Sophie’s skin, and she shivers as Johanna hails a taxi and pulls Sophie into the cab after her.
When the taxi starts down the street, Johanna turns her head to study Sophie. “So, why didn’t you fuck him? Everyone knows how much you want to.”
Sophie exhales sharply and gazes out at the busy street, the excited hum of the nightlife leaking through the windows.
“It wouldn’t have meant anything,” Sophie says finally.
Johanna doesn’t reply, and when they get to the right building, a sanitized white structure that looks like so many others all over the city, Sophie leads the way up to her apartment, glancing over her shoulder to make sure Johanna is following.
Sophie lets them in and walks in the direction of the wet bar. “Would you like something to drink?”
The lack of response catches Sophie’s attention, and as she turns back to Johanna, Sophie just catches a blur of movement on the edge of her vision. Johanna’s hands catch Sophie about her waist, twisting and pulling the fabric of her dress. Sophie tries to push Johanna away at first, but Johanna presses her up against the wall, a mirror image of what has just happened with Nate.
Giving up the struggle, Sophie places a firm hand on Johanna’s shoulder and pushes her down until she is on her knees in front of Sophie. Johanna grins as she hikes Sophie’s skirt up over her hips, thumbs dragging down her underwear.
“I can smell how horny you are,” Johanna mutters. “It’s pathetic.”
Sophie gasps and Johanna wastes no time and shoves two fingers deep inside Sophie, curling them forward, pulling them out and thrusting them back in. Johanna’s lips trace along Sophie’s hip where Nate’s fingers had dug in earlier, and Sophie arches her back and moans with how good this feels, the fucking without caring.
“This doesn’t mean anything,” Johanna murmurs, her fingers passing over Sophie’s clit.
Sophie just twists her hand in Johanna’s short hair and closes her eyes.
***************
“You can’t do it, Finnick,” Sophie says sharply.
The wind sweeping along the beach blows Sophie’s hair into her eyes, so she can’t see Finnick’s face. She pushes her hair into a ponytail and fastens it; the weather is only getting worse, and her hair is too long to be free in this sort of wind.
“But my entire family is going to participate.” Finnick’s eyes flash as he looks at her. “They’ll think I’m on the Capitol’s side.”
“You’re recognizable in a crowd. Even if you disguise your face, it’s very likely the Peacekeepers would see you.” Sophie sighs and pulls her sweater tighter against her body. “Your family can be punished for your actions. You can’t be harmed by their decisions. You’re more valuable to Snow than them.”
“So I’m supposed to let my family protest the Capitol by ransacking the Justice Building, but I have to stay on the sidelines.” He presses his lips into a thin line as he turns to look out at the ocean. “Fuck that.”
Sophie sighs and walks a little ahead of him. Her foot catches on something in the sand, her ankle turns, and she almost falls except that Finnick is suddenly beside her, his arms wrapping around her waist and supporting her weight against his body.
“I think I’m okay,” she says slowly, pushing him away enough so that she can test her strained ankle. The pain is only a mild twinge.
“Are you sure?” He tightens his grasp, and she rolls her eyes even though she knows he can’t see it in the darkness.
“Yes, I can walk.”
He releases her waist, but he grabs one of her hands as they start walking again. She glances out to the ocean, the waves rolling in fast and furious, one after the other. Finnick’s father and older brother are still at sea on a fishing boat; they should have returned by now, and there is a rumor circulating that the boat has sunk.
It will be the second boat lost if that’s true. With the higher quotas, the fishermen stay out longer and go further out because it’s almost impossible to catch enough fish for the Capitol’s demands. In addition to that, boats are being sent back out with inferior repair jobs since the prices of the wood needed has skyrocketed.
She’s surprised that there haven’t been more losses. By the time summer comes, she expects that more and more boats will either sink or they will lose parts of their crews to the raging ocean.
“They should be back by now,” Finnick says quietly.
“We could wait on the dock if that would make you feel better,” Sophie offers. “So you can watch them come in.”
“What if they don’t?”
She tightens her fingers around Finnick’s hand. “They will, Finnick. Your father has lived through times as bad as this.”
She wishes it doesn’t have to be her standing here with Finnick, but Annie is sick and feverish; normally it would be the three of them waiting for news on the beach, and Sophie misses Annie’s quiet calm that tempers Finnick’s nervous energy. All Sophie can offer is a hand to hold.
“We still haven’t heard anything from Plutarch about the rebellion,” Finnick says, running his free hand through his copper curls. “When are we going to be able to do something?”
“Hopefully soon, but we have to wait.” She leans into his side as a particularly violent gust of wind rushes past them, chilling her straight to the bone. “Too much is riding on this for us to do anything foolish.”
He frowns. “I don’t like waiting. I feel like I’ve spent the past ten years just waiting for…something to happen. Something to change.”
She turns her eyes away from him to watch the sea as it churns under the dark sky. If she waded into the ocean now, it would drag her under and swallow her into its depths. She’s so used to the peace the waves bring that it’s hard to remember the violence that they possess, the way the water can rise up like a sentient creature and destroy those who dare to think it is safe.
A call comes from further up the beach, but the words are lost, caught up in the wind. All that reaches their ears is a mournful yell; Finnick stiffens at her side, and they turn to see the approaching figure with a flashlight. The light shows that the figure is Finnick’s younger sister, and the words finally break through the wind’s barrier.
“They’re all right! They just anchored at the dock, and they’ll be home in a little bit.”
Sophie watches Finnick’s face relax with relief, and he rushes away with his sister to wait for his father and brother to return to the house. Sophie watches them disappear up the beach, their figures fading against the larger backdrop of Victor Village.
Looking to her own house, she notes the two windows illuminated with light. Mags will be sitting up, waiting for Sophie to come back with news; but there’s something suffocating about the idea of returning to a house where only a frail old woman is looking for her.
Sophie looks back out at the ocean, gathers her sweater closer to her chest. The waves frighten her now. Slowly, she turns and makes her way to her home, the blackness of the night pressing in around her.
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Author: alinaandalion
Rating: M/NC-17
Spoilers: All three books of the Hunger Games trilogy.
Warnings: Drug use, cursing, dubious con, and character death
Characters: Sophie Devereaux, Nathan Ford, Finnick Odair, Johanna Mason, Eliot Spencer, Parker, Alec Hardison, Tara Cole, Katniss Everdeen, Peeta Mellark, various other characters, and minor OCs.
Pairings: Nate/Sophie, Sophie/Finnick, Sophie/Tara, Parker/Hardison, Annie/Finnick, Peeta/Katniss, and Johanna/Gale.
Summary: As a Victor, Sophie Devereaux has spent the last fifteen years of her life trying not to feel. But rumors bring news of rebellion, hope for a better future. A second chance.
Part Two: this is what I chose
“nothing is going on here that I haven’t signed up for. There wasn’t a lot of choice, but there was some, and this is what I chose.”
- The Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood
“She offered herself to the big, bad wolf and didn’t scream when he took the first bite.”
- Wintergirls by Laurie Halse Anderson
“Blood is thicker than water. That’s what they say. But in truth, most things are.”
- The Sweet Far Thing by Libba Bray
have no place to stay
“If it keeps on raining, levee’s gonna break
If it keeps on raining, levee’s gonna break
When the levee breaks, have no place to stay”
- “When the Levee Breaks” by Led Zeppelin
It’s cold and dark when Sophie reaches her apartment in the Capitol. It’s not in the exact center of the city, but it’s close enough. The lights are already on, and Sophie sheds her coat as she steps inside and looks around.
Her Capitol apartment is nothing like her home in District Four. It’s a standard-issue for all victors, sterile white walls, dark grey carpet, and sleek black furniture. The impersonal nature of it doesn’t bother Sophie; it’s just a place for her to sleep at night.
“Isabel?” Sophie calls, striding through the living room and locating her bedroom.
Isabel appears behind her, and Sophie turns around, smiling. Isabel is an Avox, a servant provided by the Capitol. She’s a wisp of a woman, pale with silver blond hair, and she moves as silently as a ghost.
Sophie isn’t even sure if Isabel if her real name, but the way Sophie sees it, if she’s forced to have an Avox live with her, Sophie is going to actually speak to her instead of pretending that she’s not there.
Isabel takes Sophie’s coat and moves into the bedroom, placing it in the closet on the far side of the room.
Sophie sighs, sinking onto the bed. “I had supper on the train, so don’t worry about that. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Isabel nods her head and glides out, closing the door. Sophie wanders over to her window and gazes out over the city. It’s only been two months since the end of the 74th Hunger Games, and the only change has been the increasingly dropping temperature. Lights blink on and off down below; someone is always awake here.
She strips off her light sweater and pants, stretching. Tara will come by tomorrow, and Sophie can find out if there are any other victors in the Capitol at the moment. For now, Sophie glances at the bed and tries to decide on her next course of action. She’s not very tired, and she feels restless. There are plenty of clubs open. She can always spend a night out.
Her front door’s buzzer goes off, and Sophie groans; she doesn’t want a visitor right now, but she shrugs into a silk robe, tying it around her waist as she wanders to the living room. Isabel is already at the door, opening it and standing aside for the person outside.
Nate comes in and gives Sophie a small smile. “I heard you were going to be here for a little while.”
“And where did you hear that?” Sophie replies as she walks to her wet bar.
“You know that there aren’t secrets here.” Nate trails after her. “It is a little late, actually. What took so long?”
“The train was held up in District Three,” Sophie says mildly as she pours a small amount of whiskey into two glasses. “I didn’t pester my keepers with any questions, though. They seemed on edge.”
She turns to Nate, offers him a glass, and he takes it with a smirk; he drinks it all with one swallow and shifts past her to pour more. She sips at her glass and glances over his shoulder to see that Isabel has disappeared again.
“Probably a wise decision.” He walks to her couch and sits down. “How long are you going to be here?”
“Since you’re the one with all the information, maybe you can tell me that,” she teases as she settles on the far side of the couch, pulling her legs up onto the cushion beside her so that her toes just brush against his thigh.
He shakes his head. “I don’t know everything. Almost everything. The difference is important.”
Rolling her eyes, she watches him lift the decanter of whiskey he brought over with him and splash more into his glass. The low light plays over him, throwing his face into sharp relief. He’s more haggard than when they met, older, like life has beaten him down and he’s struggling just to get out of bed, much less bother with actually living.
It’s a problem that she doesn’t care to think about most of the time. She tends to take the path of least resistance with Nate when she can, when she thinks it won’t do any permanent damage. It hurts less that way.
“So are you here for business as well?” she asks quietly.
He pauses, his glass halfway to his mouth, his mouth tightening, his eyes going a little darker. He lets out a short bark of laughter and slings back the whiskey.
“Of course. Why else would I come here?”
“It’s just that…”
“I’m not a normal favorite.” He smiles, but it looks more like he’s baring his teeth at her. “Unlike you.”
She narrows her eyes and sits a little straighter. “What are you saying?”
His fingers fumble along the cut crystal decanter, but he manages to pour more whiskey for himself. She drains her glass and sets it down on the table, letting him give her more; when she reaches for it, the dark liquid sits just below the rim.
“People talk, you know,” she murmurs. “You’ve never fetched a high bid. Not even the year you won your Games.”
His hand tightens around his glass. “Do you feel superior because more people have made you their whore?”
“No, I just think you need to understand that they think I’m worth more for the exact same service.”
She takes her glass, drinks deeply, wincing at the burn. Nate stares at her, his hand still wrapped around his whiskey, his face like stone. She knows this will go one of two ways: He will drink the whiskey, say something awful and leave. Or he’ll drink the whiskey and let the moment pass, slip back into the good part of their friendship.
The former happens more often than the latter. She resents him for that far more than she should.
The furrow between his eyebrows deepens, tightens, then he ducks his head and drinks only half of his whiskey. She lets out a long breath and stretches her legs out more fully, her feet pressing harder against his leg.
He grumbles a little, but he tugs her legs into his lap. Her robe falls open a little; she doesn’t move to adjust it.
“How is life in District Four?” he asks, shifting uncomfortably as he moves his hands from the couch’s arm to his neck.
She shrugs. “Chilly.”
The whiskey has started to go to her head, and she feels warm, languid, more aware of the ways she can seduce him. His fingers skitter up and down her leg, nervous. She drinks more from her glass and licks her lips.
Nate watches her, his eyes wide, and he moves to his feet in a sudden motion that nearly sends her to the floor. He rubs his hands along his legs and clutches the curls on the back of his neck nervously.
“I should go. It’s getting late,” he stammers.
She follows him to the door. He pulls it open, starts outside, and turns back. As she steps a little closer, the heat rises in her skin when he sways slightly in her direction. The seconds stretch out between them, a moment that will shatter if she moves first. With a shake of his head, it dissipates into nothing, and his lips quirk into a stiff smile as he turns to leave.
When he’s gone, she closes the door and leans heavily against it, surveying the room. She sees the open decanter on the table and his half-finished glass. Sighing, she walks to the glass and picks it up, swirls the liquid around, considers.
She places her mouth over where the glass had touched his lips and finishes off the whiskey.
***************
Two nights later, she goes out. Nate asked her to meet him at Vices, which she still doesn’t understand. He certainly has his own addictions, but he doesn’t fit in with the loud bass beat of the music or the slick crowd that revolves in and out of the doors.
Still, she doesn’t protest. When it’s not Hunger Games season in the Capitol, they all have a little more free time, their appointments spread out over a longer period instead of crammed into a series of days.
She has three weeks to spend in the Capitol this time around, with about fifteen appointments already scheduled. She might gain a few more, but those come from much lower bids. This means she only has to stay a few hours compared to all night with her more expensive clients.
She sits at the bar in a tight black dress with an open back, sipping her fruity drink, the soft fabric sliding pleasantly against her thighs when she crosses her legs. Vices is still the most popular among the victors and the more powerful citizens of the Capitol. This translates to more privacy, which in turn means a steady underground drug trade and secret meetings.
Johanna appears at Sophie’s elbow, her short black hair in stiff spikes, her hazel eyes raking over Sophie’s body.
“I was expecting Nate,” Sophie says mildly, motioning to the bartender to bring a fresh drink for Johanna.
Johanna shrugs and hops onto the closest bar stool. “He’s busy with a client. He said as long as I’m sleeping on his couch, I could meet with you for him.”
Johanna takes the dark red cocktail from the bartender and gulps it down while Sophie watches her. Johanna has her own apartment, just like all the victors, but she never uses it. Johanna seems to prefer Nate’s apartment for some reason, but Sophie has wandered out to her own couch some nights to find Johanna there.
“So, what are you supposed to tell me?” Sophie asks, finishing off her drink.
Johanna slides off her stool and grabs Sophie’s hand. “Come on, let’s go to the back rooms. I can explain there.”
Sophie snags the new drink the bartender just placed in front of her and follows after Johanna to the back. There are rooms kept back here for clandestine hook-ups to discourage sex in the bathrooms or in the back alleyways; but it also caters to a clientele of a higher class, so the accommodations are not monitored by microphones or cameras.
Johanna picks one of the middle doors and drags Sophie inside. When Sophie moves to lock the door, Johanna waves her away.
“No, we’re expecting someone else,” she says impatiently. Then Johanna flings herself onto the bed and stretches provocatively. “We can be putting on a show for him when he does get here.”
“I didn’t sign on for kinky sex tonight,” Sophie replies as she sits down on one of the cushioned chairs. “Who are we waiting on?”
Johanna smirks. “It’s a surprise.”
Sophie swallows half of her cocktail in response. The door opens slowly, and she stiffens as Plutarch Heavensbee walks in.
“You invited a Gamemaker here?” Sophie hisses, glaring at Johanna.
“Relax, it’s not anything weird,” Johanna says with a roll of her eyes. “Maybe.”
Plutarch gives them a wide smile. “Good, you managed to come. Where is Nathan?”
“Business,” Johanna replies shortly. “So, we can get on with things.”
“Of course, of course,” Plutarch says good-naturedly as he sinks into the chair opposite Sophie. “My, it’s been a long day.”
“I’m assuming that this clandestine meeting has something to do with some sort of illegal activity,” Sophie says slowly, downing the rest of her drink. “So, please, tell me what is going on.”
“Panem is on the verge of a rebellion.” Plutarch leans toward Sophie, his eyes shining with excitement. “And, unlike last time, we’re prepared to take down the Capitol. I’ve been laying the plans for this for years.”
“What’s caused this change?” Sophie asks, already wondering if this has anything to do with the Girl on Fire and those damned berries.
“Katniss. Holding those berries out is being seen as a moment of rebellion against the Capitol that all of the Districts are latching onto,” he explains. “We want to use her as the figurehead of this new rebellion, a symbol of the resistance. The Mockingjay.”
Sophie sits back in her chair, crosses her arms across her chest. She’s not blind; she’s heard and seen signs of rebellion in several of the districts over the past months. She knows that even District Four has not been immune to murmurs of discontent over increased quotas.
She wants to instantly sign onto this rebellion, throw everything she has into it. Except that she has Finnick, Annie, and Mags to think about, not to mention all the people in her district that Snow can use against her. She has to be sure.
“How are you going to accomplish overthrowing the Capitol?” she asks. “The Capitol has the superior weaponry, more manpower. We can’t fight them.”
“We have District Thirteen,” Plutarch tells her with a grin.
“And he isn’t bullshitting you,” Johanna puts in from where she is lounging on the bed. “I always thought that place was a bombed-out wasteland, but apparently they’re living underground.”
“If I did agree to join the cause, what would you expect me to do?” Because that is the real question, and it doesn’t matter how selfish it makes her look. It’s always better to know what’s ahead than to trust authority blindly.
“Watch over Katniss and Peeta. Their Victory Tour is starting soon, and though I don’t believe they will be sold like the rest of you right now, they still have the pressures of their faked romance. Snow is furious with that girl, and he’s looking for any excuse to get rid of her.” Plutarch sighs and rubs a hand against his forehead. “Not only that, but they’ll be acting as mentors for the Quarter Quell, which is never a pleasant Hunger Games regardless of what’s going on. It’s going to be even worse now.”
“So we’re basically just babysitting a couple of teenagers,” Johanna says in a bored voice. “I want to be in on the fighting part of things.”
“One step at a time, Johanna,” Plutarch says with a laugh. He looks at Sophie. “Are you with us?”
The answer comes to her readily, but the words die in her mouth. If she agrees, she is making a decision for Finnick, Annie, and Mags, a choice she is almost sure they will support, but it still feels like she will be no different than Snow and the Capitol. She knows Finnick, though; she knows how eager he has been at the idea of an uprising in District Four. Mags will call her a fool if Sophie goes home and explains how she passed up a chance at freedom to stay in relative safety. Annie will follow Finnick to the ends of the earth, so, honestly, the choice really is Sophie’s to make.
Sophie sighs and shrugs her shoulders. “If only because I know everyone I care about will jump at this chance. I’m in.”
Plutarch grins and bounces to his feet. “Oh, good, I had hoped you would join the cause. Now, I have another meeting tonight, so you ladies will have to excuse me.”
Johanna rolls her eyes as Plutarch leaves the room, and she props herself up on an elbow. “So, if you want to wait here, Nate was supposed to meet up with us sometime soon. I have a half-decent looking guy out there who keeps buying me drinks, and I think I’m going to see if he’s still hanging around the bar.”
“I’ll wait here for Nate,” Sophie says quietly, smiling a little as Johanna shimmies off the bed and tugs her dress a little too low over her breasts.
Johanna winks at Sophie as she saunters past. “Just don’t wear him out too much. He is getting on in years, after all.”
Sophie rolls her eyes and waves Johanna away. When she’s alone in the room, Sophie takes the time to examine her surroundings. She’s never been back in this part of the club; she doesn’t have sex with random strangers in the Capitol, at least not when she has a choice about it.
It’s a simple set-up, two chairs and a bed, dim lighting to set the mood. The walls are painted a light gold that glitters oddly in the glow of the lamps. She smirks a little bit when she notices the black bedspread and sheets.
She hears the door open behind her and she turns to send the intruder away. The words die in her mouth when her eyes land on Nate. She moves toward him, a warm smile on her face, but she stops a few feet short of him.
He’s shaking with some sort of nervous energy, his eyes dilated too much, every movement jerky and uncontrolled.
She’s seen him like this before, fresh from an appointment and still high on Ecstasy, but they’ve never been alone; she feels a desperate need to have Johanna back here, acting as a buffer between the two of them.
His mouth curves into a slow smile, and he walks in her direction. His strides are slower than normal, as though he has to remind himself how to walk.
“Did you have a busy night?” she asks, skirting around him when he drifts closer.
Nate shrugs. “Same as usual.”
His hair is a tangled mass of wet curls, and he keeps running a hand through them, making it an even bigger mess. But that means he went home and showered and then decided to seek her out. This isn’t random, and she finds the thought disturbingly pleasant.
“I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he says in a low voice.
He moves forward, and she takes a few steps back before realizing that he’s effectively herding her against the wall. His hand lands on her arm, and her back hits the wall with a soft thud, the shock pushing the air out of her lungs. His other hand moves to the skin her dress’s open back exposes, his fingers trailing along the faint knobs of her spine.
“Is that so?” Her voice is too breathy, and she swallows against the dryness of her throat.
His right hand moves from her arm to her hip, and he rubs his thumb against the soft silky fabric, his fingers almost grazing the skin of her thigh where the dress stops. Her whole body strains towards him even as she tries to get herself back under control.
This is utter insanity, but when he finally kisses her, his lips rough and aggressive, she finds that she doesn’t really care.
She slides her arms around his neck and pulls him closer; his fingers dig hard into her hip, so deep that she’ll have bruises there tomorrow. Moaning, she opens her mouth and lets him slide his tongue against hers as she slips her hands underneath his shirt, rakes her nails down his back.
He’s not coordinated enough to hold her up against the wall, which means they’ll end up on the floor soon if she doesn’t move them somewhere else. Not that she really cares, however, especially when his hand on her hip starts pushing up her dress, fingers tracing along the line of her underwear.
The arousal coils painfully inside her, burning, consuming, and she fists a hand in his hair, the other working his pants open with surprising speed and stroking his erection through his underwear. His hips jerk into her, the hand he has pressed against her back wraps around one of her dress straps and pulls, ripping the fabric, the silk shifting against her body. He slips his fingers inside her panties, brushes his thumb lightly against her clit.
She whines in the back of her throat and pushes forward against his body, twists her hand around his cock gently, dragging his bottom lip between her teeth. He slips one, two fingers inside her, curls them forward.
His mouth falls to her neck, and he murmurs her name, Sophie, his teeth pressing into her skin, his tongue smoothing over the marks. Her breath catches, and her mind finally catches up to her raging body.
“Wait, Nate, stop.” She pushes him back with a firm hand against his chest.
He starts to lean in towards her anyway, so she hits him with the heel of her hand. She doesn’t know how far he might go, especially with the drugs in his system. He clenches his fingers into a fist, then releases them, letting his arms hang loosely at his sides. Fumbling with his pants, he leaves.
She’s shocked by his lack of protest, but now that he’s gone, she sits down on the bed, her shoulders slumping. Her dress falls down her chest, exposing her left breast. She fumbles with the torn strap, but she can’t get a good enough grasp on the destroyed material to fix it.
Groaning, she presses her fingers against her temple.
“Having a little trouble?”
Sophie looks up and rolls her eyes at Johanna’s smirk. “Just a wardrobe malfunction. What are you doing here?”
“Saw Nate leave with a hard-on. Figured something must have happened between you two, and when you didn’t come out, I thought something bad had happened,” Johanna replies.
Johanna walks to the bed and leans over Sophie’s shoulder, pulling the torn strap tight and tying the loose ends together.
“Thanks,” Sophie says softly, her cheeks coloring with embarrassment.
Johanna shrugs. “Sure, whatever. Come on, let’s get you back to your place.”
“Do you want to stay the night?”
“Well, I’m not going back to Nate’s apartment while he’s still high. No way am I fucking his old ass.”
Sophie laughs a little at that and stands up slowly. Johanna grabs Sophie’s hand and holds on tight as she leads Sophie back through the club, skirting the crowd on the dance floor. The cold night raises goosebumps on Sophie’s skin, and she shivers as Johanna hails a taxi and pulls Sophie into the cab after her.
When the taxi starts down the street, Johanna turns her head to study Sophie. “So, why didn’t you fuck him? Everyone knows how much you want to.”
Sophie exhales sharply and gazes out at the busy street, the excited hum of the nightlife leaking through the windows.
“It wouldn’t have meant anything,” Sophie says finally.
Johanna doesn’t reply, and when they get to the right building, a sanitized white structure that looks like so many others all over the city, Sophie leads the way up to her apartment, glancing over her shoulder to make sure Johanna is following.
Sophie lets them in and walks in the direction of the wet bar. “Would you like something to drink?”
The lack of response catches Sophie’s attention, and as she turns back to Johanna, Sophie just catches a blur of movement on the edge of her vision. Johanna’s hands catch Sophie about her waist, twisting and pulling the fabric of her dress. Sophie tries to push Johanna away at first, but Johanna presses her up against the wall, a mirror image of what has just happened with Nate.
Giving up the struggle, Sophie places a firm hand on Johanna’s shoulder and pushes her down until she is on her knees in front of Sophie. Johanna grins as she hikes Sophie’s skirt up over her hips, thumbs dragging down her underwear.
“I can smell how horny you are,” Johanna mutters. “It’s pathetic.”
Sophie gasps and Johanna wastes no time and shoves two fingers deep inside Sophie, curling them forward, pulling them out and thrusting them back in. Johanna’s lips trace along Sophie’s hip where Nate’s fingers had dug in earlier, and Sophie arches her back and moans with how good this feels, the fucking without caring.
“This doesn’t mean anything,” Johanna murmurs, her fingers passing over Sophie’s clit.
Sophie just twists her hand in Johanna’s short hair and closes her eyes.
***************
“You can’t do it, Finnick,” Sophie says sharply.
The wind sweeping along the beach blows Sophie’s hair into her eyes, so she can’t see Finnick’s face. She pushes her hair into a ponytail and fastens it; the weather is only getting worse, and her hair is too long to be free in this sort of wind.
“But my entire family is going to participate.” Finnick’s eyes flash as he looks at her. “They’ll think I’m on the Capitol’s side.”
“You’re recognizable in a crowd. Even if you disguise your face, it’s very likely the Peacekeepers would see you.” Sophie sighs and pulls her sweater tighter against her body. “Your family can be punished for your actions. You can’t be harmed by their decisions. You’re more valuable to Snow than them.”
“So I’m supposed to let my family protest the Capitol by ransacking the Justice Building, but I have to stay on the sidelines.” He presses his lips into a thin line as he turns to look out at the ocean. “Fuck that.”
Sophie sighs and walks a little ahead of him. Her foot catches on something in the sand, her ankle turns, and she almost falls except that Finnick is suddenly beside her, his arms wrapping around her waist and supporting her weight against his body.
“I think I’m okay,” she says slowly, pushing him away enough so that she can test her strained ankle. The pain is only a mild twinge.
“Are you sure?” He tightens his grasp, and she rolls her eyes even though she knows he can’t see it in the darkness.
“Yes, I can walk.”
He releases her waist, but he grabs one of her hands as they start walking again. She glances out to the ocean, the waves rolling in fast and furious, one after the other. Finnick’s father and older brother are still at sea on a fishing boat; they should have returned by now, and there is a rumor circulating that the boat has sunk.
It will be the second boat lost if that’s true. With the higher quotas, the fishermen stay out longer and go further out because it’s almost impossible to catch enough fish for the Capitol’s demands. In addition to that, boats are being sent back out with inferior repair jobs since the prices of the wood needed has skyrocketed.
She’s surprised that there haven’t been more losses. By the time summer comes, she expects that more and more boats will either sink or they will lose parts of their crews to the raging ocean.
“They should be back by now,” Finnick says quietly.
“We could wait on the dock if that would make you feel better,” Sophie offers. “So you can watch them come in.”
“What if they don’t?”
She tightens her fingers around Finnick’s hand. “They will, Finnick. Your father has lived through times as bad as this.”
She wishes it doesn’t have to be her standing here with Finnick, but Annie is sick and feverish; normally it would be the three of them waiting for news on the beach, and Sophie misses Annie’s quiet calm that tempers Finnick’s nervous energy. All Sophie can offer is a hand to hold.
“We still haven’t heard anything from Plutarch about the rebellion,” Finnick says, running his free hand through his copper curls. “When are we going to be able to do something?”
“Hopefully soon, but we have to wait.” She leans into his side as a particularly violent gust of wind rushes past them, chilling her straight to the bone. “Too much is riding on this for us to do anything foolish.”
He frowns. “I don’t like waiting. I feel like I’ve spent the past ten years just waiting for…something to happen. Something to change.”
She turns her eyes away from him to watch the sea as it churns under the dark sky. If she waded into the ocean now, it would drag her under and swallow her into its depths. She’s so used to the peace the waves bring that it’s hard to remember the violence that they possess, the way the water can rise up like a sentient creature and destroy those who dare to think it is safe.
A call comes from further up the beach, but the words are lost, caught up in the wind. All that reaches their ears is a mournful yell; Finnick stiffens at her side, and they turn to see the approaching figure with a flashlight. The light shows that the figure is Finnick’s younger sister, and the words finally break through the wind’s barrier.
“They’re all right! They just anchored at the dock, and they’ll be home in a little bit.”
Sophie watches Finnick’s face relax with relief, and he rushes away with his sister to wait for his father and brother to return to the house. Sophie watches them disappear up the beach, their figures fading against the larger backdrop of Victor Village.
Looking to her own house, she notes the two windows illuminated with light. Mags will be sitting up, waiting for Sophie to come back with news; but there’s something suffocating about the idea of returning to a house where only a frail old woman is looking for her.
Sophie looks back out at the ocean, gathers her sweater closer to her chest. The waves frighten her now. Slowly, she turns and makes her way to her home, the blackness of the night pressing in around her.
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven