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 One: such have I never seen
“Old are the shores;
But where are old men?
I who have seen much,
Such have I never seen.”
- “Earth-song” by Ralph Waldo Emerson
“Maybe it’s about who can do what to whom and can be forgiven for it. Never tell me it amounts to the same thing.”
- The Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood
“I don’t deserve consolation. I want to suffer whatever pain might come. It’s my penance, my restitution, and, if possible, my absolution; how else will I clean the bloodstains from my hands?”
- Speaker for the Dead by Orson Scott Card
like tears from on high
“Only love can bring the rain
That makes you yearn to the sky
Only love can bring the rain
That falls like tears from on high”
- “Love Reign O’er Me” by The Who
Sophie holds her fluttering skirt out of the way as the waves wash over her feet. The sun is just appearing over the horizon, its golden rays reflecting off the gently cresting waves, and she flicks some loose hair out of her face. Wiggling her toes in the wet sand, she contemplates the wisdom of going barefoot to the Reaping ceremonies; of course, then her stylist will be highly disappointed.
She asked for sensible shoes, and he sent delicate silver sandals that lace up her calves. She supposes they probably count as sensible by Capitol standards, and she’s just grateful that the sandals don’t have heels like most of the shoes in her closet.
The people of District Four already think of her as more of a Capitol citizen than one of them. There’s no reason to encourage that idea if she can help it.
“Couldn’t sleep?”
Finnick’s arms around her waist startle her at first, but she relaxes back into his warmth, his head resting just on top of hers. It’s almost too familiar, like they’re lovers, but their circumstances allow for a less than usual relationship. She was his mentor when he was sent to the arena, and though she has watched over many different tributes in years past, Finnick is the only one who has survived. It’s bound them together for life, and she knows that there is no one else who understands her in the same way, who can know what to say at any moment to make her smile or drive away the demons that still haunt her, and she can do the same with him.
By almost everyone’s standards, they should be lovers, especially considering that they do have a sexual history that isn’t necessarily in the past. It’s not about love, though, and almost no one understands that. No one except Annie, anyway, which means that things are allowed to continue as they have been.
“Well, you know how exciting Reaping Day is.”
He doesn’t miss the sarcasm laced through every word, and he pokes her in the side. “This the dress you’re wearing?”
She places her hands over his. “It was sent from the Capitol especially for today. Appearances are everything after all.”
“Well, it’s beautiful.” He presses his lips to her head and murmurs, “You’re beautiful.”
It is a beautiful dress, a light sea green foam laced with an intricate pattern of silver thread that catches the light. It has an open back with the soft material flowing down her front and gathering loosely about her slender waist; the skirt stops in waves of fabric just above her knees.
It’s only one in a long line of dresses she’s received from the Capitol for Reaping Day that are shoved in a closet afterward to never be worn again.
“Do you think there will be any volunteers today?” she asks quietly as the water laps higher against her ankles.
“Probably not. There haven’t been any in years.”
Even though she can’t see his face, she knows he’s frowning, can feel it in her bones, the way her mouth twists with an answering bitterness. She indulges the impulse because later will be filled with false smiles and joy at the prospect of dragging two children off to the Capitol to be slaughtered.
“Maybe there won’t be any young ones this year.”
“They’re all young, Soph. Too young. Just like we were.”
“It’s easier when they’re at least fifteen.”
She hates the hard, calculating sound of her thoughts, but there are some secrets they don’t keep from each other; from the feel of Finnick’s arms tightening around her, he doesn’t like what she’s saying, either. But he won’t say anything about it because part of him knows better and part of him agrees.
“Maybe we’ll bring one of them home this year.”
“One of them,” Sophie echoes bitterly. “Only one.”
He sighs. “That’s the way it is.”
She just pushes his arms away and starts walking up the beach to their row of houses, her skirt tangling up in her legs until she lifts the damned dress so high up her thighs that she’s sure Finnick is getting an eyeful behind her.
“Annie will be up by now,” she calls over her shoulder. “She’ll want you with her today before we have to leave.”
He catches up with her, grabs her by the elbow, and kisses her cheek.
“Just try to make it through today,” he tells her with a slight smile.
She watches him go, unable to help admiring the easy roll of his gait. Pushing her hair back out of her face, she trudges her own way to her house, a breeze whispering against her back as she steps inside.
***************
When Sophie sat down across from Finnick, he stiffened in apprehension. She wrapped her fingers around the edge of the couch and watched the fear creep into his eyes. She thought to start speaking, but the words stuck in her throat, clawing and swelling with their horror.
“As a victor, there are certain duties that are expected of you. The ones you know about are acting as a mentor during the Games and as an example in your district.” She stopped and took a deep breath. “The other is to offer your body to the use of Capitol citizens for a price.”
Her voice cracked and she fell into silence. He stared at her for a long while before licking his lips and leaning forward; she saw the faint trembles in his hands.
“Like a whore?”
It felt like he had slapped her, thrown those words in her face like they had been so often before. She nodded her head, though, because it was true.
“Why are you telling me this now?”
She felt a wave of nausea wash over her and shame clenched deep in her stomach.
“Tomorrow night, President Snow has arranged for your first appointment with Larson Smith.”
She passed him a thick card with beautiful flowing words printed upon it. She had her own stack in her bedroom and it was hard to remember now how she felt when she received her first one. They all looked basically the same after all, and memory had a way of blurring over the more unpleasant parts of the past.
“He waited until you were sixteen so that he couldn’t be accused of selling a child.”
She babbled on, not even sure what she was saying because she had somehow lost control of her mouth. She ended up explaining about the other victors and how some “clients” could be kind, and the whole time, all she could really hear was the roar of the ocean in her ears and the thunder of anger and sadness in her veins.
“What if I refuse?”
She couldn’t even look at him when she gave him the answer. “They’ll kill your family. As long as you cooperate, they will remain safe.”
He nodded like he understood, as if any of this made some sort of sense. His body tensed and relaxed, his legs shuffling like he was thinking of breaking into a run. She felt tears pricking at her eyes and forced them back. She would offer anything, had offered anything, to keep him from this.
“Will it hurt?” His voice came out like a whimper, and it hit her in a rush that he was still so young.
She moved without thinking to his side, her hands smoothing over his curls, her lips whispering past his ear. He crumpled then, crying and shaking, and she just held him. Her arms wrapped around him with familiarity, her fingers sliding under his shirt and pressing hard into his skin. He was her friend, her equal now, and that meant she couldn’t lie to keep him from being afraid.
“It will hurt,” she murmured. “But you are not the only one.”
“Does that make things easier?”
She cupped her hand against his cheek. “I don’t know. But, it’s something.”
As he wiped his tears away, he glanced at her, and she felt warmth steal into her cheeks. She had been aware of his crush on her when he first came to the Capitol as a tribute, but she had made their boundaries clear. Now, though, he was looking at her like something fundamental had shifted in his world.
He kissed her, and she followed her first reaction to pull away. He just moved closer and pressed his mouth to hers. His lips fumbled, hesitant in their boldness, and she closed her eyes to consider her options. He remained persistent, and something inside her snapped. She opened up to him, taking hungry control, slanting her lips over his, slipping her tongue into his mouth and swallowing his surprised moan.
He molded himself to her, following her lead, and she imagined that she could taste his lingering innocence with the press of her tongue against the roof of his mouth. She pulled out his grasp abruptly and waited for him to open his eyes.
“What do you want?”
Her voice was pitched low because she needed her intentions to be made clear. She was willing to give if he wished to take.
“I want you.” His voice broke, and his hand fell to her thigh, slipping along the heated skin her dress exposed. “I want my first time with someone to be my choice.”
A sad smile played with her lips as she leaned back into him.
***************
Sophie throws her sandals into the far corner of her compartment as soon as she steps through the door. Her skin is still sticky with sweat, so she strips off her dress, not even caring that it rips; she drops it to the floor and heads to the bathroom, pulling the heavy silver comb out of her hair, curls spilling down her back.
As she turns on the water and steps into the shower, she hears someone moving around in her room. She shrugs and presses a button to adjust the water’s temperature to near scalding.
“Hey.” Tara peers around the edge of the shower door and smiles.
Sophie smiles back. “Hi.”
“Don’t forget to come to supper.”
“I won’t forget if you’re here to remind me.”
Tara raises an eyebrow. “Are you sure you want me around right now?”
Sophie shakes her hair out of her face and moves back under the spray. “I haven’t seen you for months, darling. Come on.”
Tara bites her bottom lip and starts pulling off her dark blue shimmering dress; she steps into the shower and wraps her arms around Sophie’s waist, kissing her softly.
“I missed you, too,” Tara murmurs, pressing her mouth to Sophie’s neck. “Maybe this year’s Games won’t be as bad as the last two.”
“I don’t want to talk right now.” Sophie turns her head and captures Tara’s lips with her own.
Tara moans a little and pushes her back against the wall, her hands slipping along Sophie’s body, fingers dancing over slick skin. Sophie closes her eyes and tries not to think about where this train is headed, the envelopes she found on her bedside table, the two frightened children who will more than likely die in that arena.
She just needs her mind to stop, so she slips her fingers between Tara’s legs and lets it all go.
***************
The silence is almost deafening, and Finnick fidgets beside Sophie, drumming his fingers across his thigh and then hers. She barely notices, more concerned with what they have just seen.
Everything has gone as expected so far. Except for that volunteer from District Twelve. Familial love doesn’t normally run that deep when it comes down to the almost certainty of death in the arena. Besides, the action is so unusual that it can upset everything, pull sponsors from other tributes, their tributes, because the sponsors are nothing if not gamblers at heart who won’t mind throwing away large sums of money to see if this girl has what it takes to win.
“Should we be concerned yet?” Tara finally says.
“I don’t know.” Sophie slaps Finnick’s hand away from her leg and shakes her head. “It could just be that she’s protecting her sister. What sort of skills could she have anyway?”
“Something she learned illegally.” When Sophie glares at him, he shrugs. “The Capitol kind of ignores District Twelve. It’s possible.”
“Well, even if she gets the highest score after training, we still have a group of sponsors who always choose to back District Four. Our kids won’t be left out in the cold.”
“Tributes,” Tara corrects lightly.
Sophie narrows her eyes and frowns, and she settles a little more into the couch; Finnick looks from her to Tara. It’s almost like the two women are feeling each other out through glances and a sideways conversation, and it’s something so common now that he can pretty much ignore it as he chooses.
He doesn’t play these games very well, after all. He’s not a stranger to subtlety but he’s never been able to manipulate it to his own will.
“Regardless, we still have the Careers to worry about,” Finnick puts in. “It’s the same every year. They almost always win because they know what they’re doing and have been prepared for this. Ours, on the other hand…”
“Know how to tie knots and fish,” Sophie finishes with a wry smile. “Which, while beneficial, will only keep them alive for so long.”
When she stops talking, the silence comes back, and Finnick returns to his impatient drumming along Sophie’s leg. Sophie lets it pass; he doesn’t do well with quiet and stillness when he’s without Annie. It’s as if he’s afraid that if he’s not in perpetual motion, the earth might fling him off its surface. Tara watches him while he fidgets, her eyes narrowed just a little at how close Sophie is to him.
Tara doesn’t like anyone else to touch Sophie. Sophie knows this, and she doesn’t care.
“One of their mothers came up to me after the Reaping.” Sophie keeps her voice quiet but it seems to echo back to her. She can feel their eyes on her, but she can’t look at them. “She asked me to make sure her child comes back home. Alive. And I wanted to tell her that if I chose one over the other, I would be killing one of them.”
“It’s understandable,” he murmurs. “No mother wants to bury her child.”
“Our worlds are so narrow when we’re in pain, when someone we love is in pain.” A bubble of pain wells up in Sophie’s chest and she pushes it back down because there are some things they never talk about. “We would sacrifice anything. Anyone.”
“Is it such a bad thing to care so much for someone?” Finnick flattens his hand on Sophie’s leg and squeezes, reminding her that they’re never truly alone. Everything they say makes it back to the Capitol eventually.
“At the price of an innocent person’s life?” Sophie shakes her head. “What right do you have to make that kind of choice?”
“None,” he replies softly.
Her eyes are damp when she looks at him. “We’re all damned.”
“It will be a busy day tomorrow.” Tara’s voice cracks, and she clears her throat. “We should all try to get some rest.”
Sophie kisses the side of his head and whispers, “Good night, Finnick.”
She slips out from under his grasp, and he smiles up at her. “Good night, Sophie. Tara.”
Sophie lets Tara take her hand and lead her away. The walls press in around her, and Sophie breaks free from Tara’s grasp, panting for breath. Tara just sighs and keeps walking to her compartment.
Sophie clenches her hand into a fist and makes her way along the length of the train until she reaches the end where she can step onto the back and let the cool air wash over her. The train barrels along the tracks as the stars flicker past in little flashes of light.
***************
Sophie sinks onto the bed in her compartment and sighs as she looks around. Everything is the same as the previous year, the same as it has always been. She wonders sometimes if her father slept in this same compartment when he traveled to the Capitol each year for the Games.
It’s a morbid belief, but she feels tied to him this way, like she is following in his footsteps as a victor, a mentor, and as a whore. It’s painful to know that if he could see her, he wouldn’t be proud.
Tara slips onto the bed behind her. “Do you want me to stay tonight?”
Sophie pulls Tara’s arms around her waist and nods. This isn’t a night she wants to be alone.
The morning was quiet when Sophie woke up. She stayed in bed, eyes closed, listening. Her daddy was home, and that normally meant she could hear her mama singing while she cooked breakfast and Daddy helped her.
But, she couldn’t hear anything that day. Sophie opened her eyes and frowned when she saw Mags sitting beside her bed.
“What’s going on?” Sophie untangled herself from the sheets and sat with her legs crossed.
Mags looked sad, but she smiled. “Your mother is busy right now. She asked me to sit with you.”
“But, Daddy’s here.” Sophie shook her head. “What is he doing?”
Mags opened her mouth as if to reply but she shut it again without making a sound. Sophie sighed; she hated being ten years old a lot of the time. She wanted to be an adult and be allowed to share in the secrets that people always started talking about around her before stopping themselves.
The house was too quiet. It didn’t feel alive like it always had before, filled with murmurs and sighs from the wooden walls, the gentle tread of her mother’s footsteps, her father’s heavier gait. A shiver went up her spine, and she swallowed back the choking feeling that blocked her throat.
“Come here, child,” Mags said softly, opening her arms.
Sophie crawled across the bed and settled in Mags’ lap; the room was warm from the summer sun, and she blinked drowsily against the light and the heat. Mags smelled like the lavender water she bathed in, the dirt from her vegetable garden, and the lemon flavored water she preferred to drink.
She really wanted to be curled up with her daddy, her nose pressed to his shoulder so she could smell the peppermints he always sucked on and the soap from his freshly washed clothes.
Marcus Starke poked his head inside the room and waved to get Mags’ attention. “Hey, they want you to come downstairs.”
“What about me?” Sophie asked, clinging harder to Mags.
Marcus frowned. “I don’t think…”
“Come on, child,” Mags said calmly, ignoring Marcus.
Sophie grabbed onto Mags’ hand as they left the room, and they took the stairs at a much slower pace than she would have preferred but she stayed behind Mags. It felt like something horrible was waiting down there, and she wanted to run back to her room and hide under the covers until her daddy came to tickle her and laugh with his big voice.
Her mama was sitting at the kitchen table. The shades were still pulled down over the windows, and nothing was on the stove. Daddy’s boots were missing from beside the door; Sophie wandered up to the table and put her hand on her mama’s arm.
“Did Daddy have to leave again?” She tried to act like a grown up, make it only a question even though the idea of him leaving without saying goodbye to her made her want to cry.
Her mama turned to her and sighed. Sophie shrank away from her mama’s pale face and her red eyes.
“He’s dead, sweetheart.” Her mama’s voice was flat, listless, and she held a hand out to Sophie like she would pull the girl up into her arms.
Sophie nodded her head like she believed the words, and she sat down in her mama’s lap and wrapped her arms around her mama’s neck.
Right now, this was a bad dream, and when she woke up, her daddy would be sitting beside her bed with a smile. She felt her mama’s tears soak the back of her dress, but she could only stare at the wall in front of her.
***************
It’s still early morning when they pass the outer edges of the Capitol. The sun reflects back off the sides of buildings, but the tinted windows of the train’s cars keep it from bothering their eyes.
Sophie wraps her arms across her waist, pulling the loose white dress she threw on earlier closer against her body. Finnick comes up to stand beside her, and they watch the landscape pass by, the train slowing as it trundles closer to the heart of the city.
“I dreamt about him last night,” Sophie says quietly, not even turning her head to look at Finnick.
“Are you all right now?”
She smiles a little at his response, the bitterness mixed with relief. They’ve done this often enough that he doesn’t need to ask for details anymore, and she wishes this could be different.
She weighs the words carefully in her mind before saying, “Yes. It’s gotten easier now.”
“Because you’re not sleeping alone?” He’s looking at her, she can feel it even as she keeps her eyes trained on the smooth concrete and steel slipping past the train.
“No.” She keeps her voice even, doesn’t allow even a twitch of her lips.
He sighs and spreads his palm against her back; the warmth sears through the thin material of her dress, and she lets a long breath escape her mouth. This is what she needs right now. The quiet, the familiar understanding from having seen the same horrors and survived.
There are nights when Tara can wrap her arms so tight around her, and Sophie just feels alone. A touch from Finnick on the small of her back is enough to keep her rooted, make her feel safe.
“Do you want to know what I was thinking about the first time I saw the Capitol?”
Finnick’s voice pulls her back to the moment, and she shakes her head. “What?”
“I had never seen anything like it. It was so big. Not like the ocean is big. Men made this place. It was so beautiful, so much…more that I forgot what I was coming here to do.” He speaks in a gentle murmur, the cadences of his voice pulling at her.
She can remember that morning as well, standing beside a wide-eyed fourteen-year-old boy who occasionally snuck shy glances at her; he was the most beautiful boy she had ever seen, with a mop of dark curls, hazel eyes. Perfect features, full lips, a mischievous smile that only the innocent truly possess.
“Do you feel the same way now?” She asks the question already knowing the answer, but the train is slowing even more and this story, like all others, needs to have an ending.
His face is almost unreadable. Not for her, though, and she lets her eyes travel to the hard lines around his mouth, the softness that lingers in his eyes. She knows him too well and it’s too late for either of them to pretend otherwise.
“No, I don’t,” he finally replies.
The train has almost stopped.
“Do you want to know what I thought about that morning?”
His fingers press a little harder into her back. “What was that?”
She meets his gaze. “That you were the most beautiful child I had ever seen. And that they would all eat you alive if they could.”
When the doors open on the train and the cheers of the crowd gathered outside reach their ears, his hand slips away from her, and her heart aches a little at the loss.
Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven