huff and puff {it does no good} | [rowan/gavin] blitz

She should have known something was coming when she slept safe and soundly last night. Nothing good ever stays in her head for long before turning to ash in her sleep. Still, she had hope, of course. She always does. Strangers names floated through the District Square and her shoulders sagged with relief - safe and sound after all. Now to go back home and watch the poor souls on television and wander through the next year until another name is called, or worse-

"I volunteer!"

- a howl.

She does what she always does best.

She runs.

---

Her Gran will be fretting but she's already sprinted up the steps and torn through the halls past Peacekeepers and Capitolites, a blur of guessing directions and heavy breaths. In her dreams her friends and family are snatched away but not like this. They don't willingly go to their dooms, that's her job, she's the sacrifice to save their skin. She's not sure whether to be sad or angry or a little bit of both, but the door opens and she finds herself staring at a glassy-eyed boy whom she once frightened almost to death, and now it's her turn to feel shivers down her spine and to swallow her fear.

"Rowan?"

"You never fail to surprise me" she says, unable to hold herself back from throwing her arms around his shoulders and holding him tight. (There's a corpse in my arms, the thought sinking in her stomach.) Her only friend, off to die instead of her, far too soon for her liking. She pulls out a handkerchief and hands it to him with a sad smile, pale hands shaking underneath her stern shell. "Oh Gavin," she sighs, furious and bitter and understanding all at once. "Why, you idiot? Why?"

She won't be running from the wolves tonight. She probably won't sleep at all. For the next week she will be paralysed - stuck in time, frozen in a state of disbelief. Perhaps she hasn't woken up yet, but the way her head spins and her insides hurt and her lips stay pressed shut let her know that she isn't dreaming. She can move and breathe and run away at any moment, but she chooses to stay regardless. Tonight, she won't run at all.

Instead she'll sit, and stare, and think and pray and hope (hope is a fickle thing in a place like Panem but there's a goodness in her, something that longs to see the best when all that surrounds her is the worst) that her friend will come home again. Nobody's come home from Seven yet - nobody's come close. She can't remember their names, only their faces as they fall. She'll remember this name, however. And this face will stay with her until the day she dies.

"It was only fair, right? Besides, no one here will miss me anyway."

"I'd miss you," she admits with a frown. "I would. I will." For a day, or a week, or the rest of his short life and hers longer. (It's not fair, she thinks, swallowing down her words. You're wrong. It's not fair at all.)

But he chose this. She has to remind herself that this was not by force. He chose this fate and nothing in the world could stop him. Off he goes to die, head held high and unashamed. She's hardly ever angry but at this point she is - she's furious. At him, at his choices, at the world they live in. Were the monsters out to get him too? Were they so far into his head he couldn't chase them away? Eyebrows knot together and she steps away, not sure what she should believe. Was there nobody here who cared enough if he lived or die?

("He has a family that needs him and I'm... well, I'm me.")

"I could be your family, Gavin."

I would. I will.