Your Heart Outside Your Body (10/10)
Chapter 10: The District
Chapter 9: The Meadow
Finn's cannon sounded, and a sob wrenched out of Carole's throat. Otherwise the Hudson-Hummel apartment was silent, despite the number of people crowded in.
The Careers on the screen were regrouping. The District 4 girl, Shell, was hurt, and a District 4 boy was nursing a nasty bruise on his face. Others were looting the bodies, taking anything that might be of value. Carole was savagely glad that the boys had nothing on them- just Kurt's knife and his water bottle.
The Careers began to leave, and the hovercrafts came to pick up the bodies. Next to Carole, Burt was sitting as still as a statue, tears streaking down his face. Carole kept her eyes on the screen until Finn's body was gone, and then buried her face in her hands and cried.
Someone turned off the television. No one protested.
Carole's sobs were the only sound in the apartment, and no one knew what to say to break that awful silence.
Burt was the one who stood up. "We're doing this," he said, his voice ragged with pain. "We're doing this, and we're doing it tonight."
***
Ever since the day that they'd put Kurt in his arms, Burt had been afraid of losing him. He'd checked on him twice each night when he'd been an infant, terrified Kurt would somehow smother himself during the night. He'd been worried about playground equipment, the tenement stairs, the Peacekeepers who patrolled the street. That terrible winter when his wife had died, when Burt's stomach had been hollow and Kurt had cried from hunger, had twisted him into knots. The bullying at school, the death threats, the diseases that could sweep District 8, the thefts and killings over food… and then there were the mills and factories to poison lungs and take limbs and work people to death. Kurt's death was Burt's worst fear. And ever since he'd married Carole, Finn's death was second. Not only to lose that son, but to watch Carole experiencing that pain and being able to do nothing….
To have them both taken in the same moment, to watch them both be slaughtered and not be able to do a thing to stop it… that was the culmination of everything Burt had feared from the moment both boys were called for the Hunger Games.
Burt stood in the room that Kurt and Finn had shared. Kurt's bed was still neatly made, Finn's was still lumpy and haphazard. Their clothes were still in the dresser, Kurt's treasured little hoard of grooming products was still lined up on a shelf, and Finn's drumsticks lay on the window sill. Their winter jackets hung unused in the corner, and their schoolbags sat under them. The room looked like it was still waiting for Kurt and Finn to come in, bickering about their day and bringing it back to life.
"A dad should be able to protect his kid- his kids- from anything," he said quietly to the empty room. "I couldn't stop them from taking you. They would have shot you first, then me. Only thing that it would have done was make us all dead. I'm sorry about that- real sorry- but I guess there wasn't anything I could do.
"But now, me and Carole…" Burt sat down on Kurt's bed, running his hand over the blanket. "It's not some grief-mad thing. It's not because you're both gone. It's because you shouldn't be gone, and the Capitol has got to see that. And showing them that is more important than anything else, and believe me, with how much I love Carole, that's saying a hell of a lot."
He rubbed his face. "I was real proud of you boys, you know," he said. "There in the arena. You both could have turned on each other, but you didn't. I would have understood if you had. I know you thought about it, I heard what you said. I don't care. It takes more guts to fight something like that than it does to do it, and you boys fought it. You both died with your souls intact, and that's about the only comfort I've got right now. So, thanks for that. Both of you. Me and Carole, we might not do so good with that bit, but I can't even care. Not anymore.
"I know your mom and your dad were waiting there for you, and you're with them now. I gotta believe that, or I'm gonna fall to pieces right here, before our job is done. And I know all four of you are waiting for us. We're going to do this thing, boys. We're going to get back at the Capitol for what they've taken from us. And then, when we're done… we're coming home. And we'll be a family, all of us, and they're never gonna take you from me again. I promise."
Burt touched Kurt's bed one last time, and then reached over and touched Finn's. Then he stood up, adjusted his hat and left the room. He didn't look back as he closed the door firmly behind him.
***
The night was hot and sticky. The air was humid and stagnant, without a trace of wind. They were crowded in a stinking alley that was strewn with garbage and waste, the flickering lights of television visible in the windows above them. The cotton mill Carole worked in was a block away.
It was a small group. Burt and Carole, Puck, Mercedes, Santana, and Will. The smaller the better, Burt had said, although there were a few others stationed along the route.
"You clear on the plan?" Burt asked Puck and Santana. "Give us fifteen minutes to get into position, and then start."
"Yeah, I'm clear," Puck said. "You rigged up the remote starters?"
"They're in the mill," Burt said. He looked at Mercedes. "And you?"
"I'll get the rally going, Mr. H," Mercedes said solemnly. "There's a lot of people ready for this, and when that mill goes up-"
"Right. So Puck and Santana, you lead them into the mill and get out the trap door. We'll slam the doors shut, set the remote starters, and with all that cotton, that place should go up like kindling. And when you see it, Mercedes, you get the signal to the others."
"What about me?" Will said.
"Go home," Burt ordered.
"Wait. What?"
"Go home, Schuester. A lot of people are going to get killed tonight." Burt's face was serious. "And when they do, someone's got to be there to make sure their kids are okay. Someone's got to be safe so those kids have someone to turn to. And someone's got to keep the rest of New Directions together, and keep the fight up if we're all gone. That's you."
"But I-"
"Will, please," Carole begged. "You're the only one who can do that. Please."
Will nodded slowly. "All right," he said. "But be careful. Please. Just…" he looked at Puck, Mercedes, and Santana. "Just be careful."
"We will be, Mr. Schue," Mercedes promised him.
"All right," Burt said, slapping his hands together, "let's do this."
***
The streets were eerily silent. Carole wondered if it was her imagination, or if they were always this quiet this time of night. The mills were closed at night, although the fence around the blocks where they stood was merely chain link and not electrified. A good pair of wire cutters and a Peacekeeper population absorbed in the Hunger Games made short work of that. Burt took a bolt cutter to the chain that held the big double gates shut, and they swung open, groaning on rusty hinges. Carole grabbed them before they could make too much noise.
The mill was the first one that they came to. The doors were locked, but Carole knew where the trap door let out, and they were able to sneak in that way. The huge machines stood idle, like sentries watching them creep through the rooms of the mill. They made it down to the front doors and unlocked them from inside, and then went out into the night to take their posts. According to the plan, Puck and Santana would lead the Peacekeepers down to the mill area and into the mill. Burt and Carole would slam and lock the doors, and Puck and Santana would escape through the trap door before Burt hit the remote starters that would start the fire in the carding room. With the shoddy construction, the old wood, and the cotton everywhere, the mill would go up in no time, and then hopefully the fire would be the beacon needed to set District 8 alight. Mercedes would serve as the rallying point and others who were in on this leading their blocks. That was how the plan was supposed to go.
And it went perfectly. Carole had no idea what Puck and Santana did to rile the Peacekeepers (and probably didn't want to know), but they came tearing down the road, a squad in tow. The squad followed them into the mill, and Burt and Carole slammed the doors behind them. Santana and Puck were fast, and in minutes they were out the trap door and Burt pressed the remote. The screams drifted out of the mill, anguished as thick black smoke began to rise.
"Let's get out of here," Puck said, grinning triumphantly.
Carole stood listening to the screams inside, unable to pull herself away. She remembered watching Finn kill that boy Raze, and the look of satisfaction on his face. She'd been appalled at the time, but right now all she could think was, like mother, like son.
Good.
***
There was no riot. No uprising. No rebellion, glorious or bloody or otherwise. People feared the fire and they had too much to lose, and those that might have taken to the streets worried that all they would be doing was sacrificing their own lives. There was only a fire in the mill, eight dead Peacekeepers, and a very angry Capitol.
***
In the silence of the aftermath, with no revolution to fight in, Carole and Burt went back to their apartment. The flames sent flickering shadows against their walls, even this far away.
"We should have known," Carole said sadly, looking out the window. "It was too early."
"It's not," Burt said. "It's just a first step."
Carole nodded. They could tell themselves that, and only hope that it would be true. They wouldn't be around to see if it was or not.
"What do you think we should do now?" Burt asked Carole as they sat down at their table.
Carole pushed her hair off her forehead with her sooty hand. "They'll come looking for us."
"I know." Burt picked up a fork and toyed with it. "We have to step forward when they come looking. Otherwise they'll start shooting people that had nothing to do with it."
"Of course," Carole said calmly. They'd known that all along.
Burt looked up. "You think we can keep the kids protected?"
"We can try," Carole said.
"For all the good it did us with our own sons," Burt said, and his bitterness pierced Carole's heart. For a long moment, she couldn't speak.
Finally, she said, "They chose, at least. Puck and Mercedes and Santana. If they… if the Peacekeepers find them, they knew and they understood."
"Yeah."
"They're nearly adults anyway, Burt."
"I know." Burt sighed. "It doesn't make it any easier. They're kids."
"Who wanted to stand up for what they believed. We couldn't tell them no."
"You're right." Burt stood up and paced a little. "What do you want to do while we wait?"
Carole went over to the old radio and put in a music chip. It was a very old one, given to them on their wedding day, and a static-filled rendition of a slow song. Carole turned to Burt. "Just… let's dance."
"All right." He came forward and wrapped his arms around her, and she melted into his arms. He hadn't held her like this since that terrible day that the boys had been taken from them, and if nothing else Carole was glad to have this last dance just for that- just to be together again.
"I love you, you know," Burt said as they swayed. "Maybe I haven't been able to show it much the past two weeks, but I do."
"I know," Carole said, tipping her chin up. "I love you, too."
She kissed him and he kissed her back, and they were still kissing when the Peacekeepers broke down the door.
***
"How long do you think it will take?" Mercedes asked Puck.
"I don't know," Puck said. "They're mostly idiots, until it comes to finding people. Then they're like dogs."
"Bloodhounds," Santana said derisively.
The three of them were huddled in the room New Directions used to practice in the school, a kerosene lamp between them.
"Maybe we should be home," Mercedes said. "So they don't take it out on our families."
"Or we should be here, so our families have no idea of what's going on and can't lie," Santana said. It was impossible to know which route the Capitol would take; the best they could do was hope.
They sat in the darkness, the tension stretching out over them. "It can't be much longer," Puck said, the waiting eroding his calm into frustration.
"We could run," Santana suggested.
"But where would we run to? We can't get out of the District."
"Right." Santana sighed. "Well, let's do something to pass the time, or I'm gonna go crazy and kill you both myself."
Mercedes and Puck looked at each other and grinned. "Only one thing to do in this room," Mercedes said.
When the Peacekeepers found them at 2:23 in the morning, they were still singing.
***
The Games still raged on television, but in District 8, the square was full for another reason.
Will wasn't surprised that Burt and Carole had been caught. Truth be told, he was fairly certain they wanted to be. Burt's face was grim but unflinching as they led him out, Carole's was haughty and defiant. They regretted nothing.
They had Puck and Mercedes, too. Puck was smirking, like the joke was on the Peacekeepers. Mercedes was crying, but she kept her head high and she looked… regal, Will thought. He was proud of them.
No one knew what had happened to Santana. She had disappeared. Will wanted to believe she'd run and that she was somewhere outside District 8. He had the feeling that she wasn't, but no amount of questioning was going to reveal her whereabouts.
The Peacekeepers led their four prisoners onto the stage, and the mayor read the charges. Her eyes flashed with indignation, but she otherwise played her part. Next to Will, Rachel was crying and Mike was softly cursing. He watched each kid, determined to keep them quiet. For now. Just for now. After all, he'd made a promise.
The Peacekeepers forced their captives to their knees. Carole kept her chin up, Mercedes bowed her head. Puck threw the hands off and got down to his knees himself. But Burt looked straight out into the crowd and met Will's eyes. He didn't say anything, but Will could hear the last thing Burt had said to him.
Someone's got to be there to make sure their kids are okay. Someone's got to be safe so those kids have someone to turn to. And someone's got to keep the rest of New Directions together, and keep the fight up if we're all gone. That's you.
He nodded, like Burt had spoken, and Burt nodded back. Then the guns rang out, and the four bodies fell to the stage, and it was over.
For now.
***
The girl looked like Santana. Sue tried to get a better glimpse of her, but the Peacekeepers were herding her off the train and into the Detention Center, and she was gone before Sue could get a second look. She shook her head. Ridiculous. There was absolutely no way Santana would be here.
"I wonder what's going on," Grace said as she, Sue, and Woof made their way into the Justice Building. It was not a place that any of them had ever entered before. Sue didn't like it. It was all cold marble and white stone, and while it looked imposing and would otherwise impress her, right now it looked… bloody. These were the people that held the Districts by the throat.
They were shown into an office, and Sue was startled to see President Snow sitting at the desk. She'd seen him on television and once or twice in person, but up close, he was even more menacing. And there weren't many people whom Sue would ever say that about.
"Woof. Grace. Sue." President Snow smiled. "Have a seat. Please." He gestured to the three chairs in front of his desk. "Well. What a Hunger Games we've been having so far, wouldn't you say?" None of them answered, but Snow didn't seem to care. "As exciting as this has been, there's been quite a bit more excitement back home."
That caught Sue's attention. "What's been going on?"
"It seems that some people were dissatisfied with the results of the Hunger Games this year," President Snow said, sitting back and meeting Sue's eyes squarely. "They have been dealt with, but the unrest lingers in the District like the stench of garbage. It requires a steady, practiced hand to dispel it. Three steady, practiced hands."
"What do you mean?" Grace asked.
"The Peacekeepers can ensure that the violence does not flare again," Snow said, picking up a crystal rose from his desk and toying with it. "However, it would be beneficial to us to have people working in the District to soothe the wounded feelings. Now, we're all friends here. Let's talk frankly. I'm not going to pretend that the people in the Districts are in love with the Capitol. But our lives certainly go more smoothly when they pretend that they are. I need you three-" he looked at each of them in turn- "to essentially do damage control. Sure, we can send all the propaganda and reprisals that we want, and we will. But people from the District itself- heroes from the District itself- will be far more effective."
"No," Sue said flatly.
"Not on your life," Woof said.
"Absolutely not," Grace added.
President Snow smiled a little at the crystal flower. "You know," he said, "the tributes from District 8 this year were so touching, especially the step-brothers. And it was their parents who were the cause of the trouble. I suppose that shouldn't be a shock, mind you. We do so cherish our families. Our nephews and nieces," he said, looking at Woof. "Our husbands and children," he added, looking at Grace. His eyes then locked with Sue's. "And our sisters. Think what your life would be without them. Think how you would feel if your actions resulted in their demise."
Sue's stomach turned over. Grace gave a little cry and Woof's shoulders slumped. "Have I made myself clear?" President Snow said.
No one answered. They didn't need to.
"Good. I'm so glad we had this talk. So go. Return to your quarters for the remainder of the Games, and when you get back to District 8, I expect great things of you."
The three of them left the Justice Building in silence. Justice Building. Sue spat on the steps.
"It's not like we have a choice," Grace said, quietly.
"It's not like we ever have," Woof agreed.
Sue didn't answer. She'd cursed Kurt for not betraying Finn, and now she understood exactly why he'd done it. Screw District 8- she wasn't letting anything happen to Jean. If she fought, nothing would get accomplished, she'd lose Jean, and the kids from District 8 would lose the only mentor that could help one of them win. If she went along with it, it wouldn't change much, but it would keep Jean safe.
There were things you had to do to protect the things you loved, and Sue Sylvester was going to do them.
For now.
***
The four Hudson-Hummels were all buried together. The Capitol took a sick sort of pleasure in bringing back the four dead tributes, and they had to do something with the other bodies anyway. Puck and Mercedes were buried with them as well, although their graves were unmarked. The tributes had been buried with the usual amount of ceremony, but the other burials had been done quietly as the District was required to attend an elaborate ceremony for the eight Peacekeepers killed in the fire, all of whom were hailed as heroes.
Will stood on the edge of the graveyard, looking at the six fresh graves. Keep the fight up if we're all gone, Burt had said. Will didn't have the first idea how to do that. Not without landing here in the graveyard himself, having accomplished nothing.
"Mr. Schuester?"
Will turned around to see the remainder of New Directions standing there, watching him. "Guys. What are you doing here?"
"We saw you weren't in the square," Rachel said. "We thought you might be here."
"I know," Will sighed. "But I shouldn't be. None of you should be."
"Maybe not," Quinn said. "But maybe we should. Maybe we should start thinking more about what we're told not to do."
"Maybe we should have done more the other night," Sam said.
"Guys, you would have gotten killed," Will said.
"Well, maybe not the other night," Rachel amended. "But maybe… maybe with better planning."
"A lot of planning," Mike added. "Maybe even years of it.
Will looked at their young faces, stony and determined. Keep up the fight, Burt had said, but he didn't mean today or tomorrow. Plan for a future- maybe a future decades in coming- with people who could live long enough to see it through. Take their time, construct their plans, check and double check everything. Planning had never been Will's strong suit, and he thought that Burt could not have possible chosen a worse successor. But the faith in the kids' eyes made him nod.
"Come on. Let's pay our respects and then go back to the choir room. I think we've got a lot to talk about."
Epilogue: The Victors