the color of truth {jb}{artemis}

Sam had always known in spite of his naiveté that someday Abel's name would have to be put into the Reaping bowls. He'd worked his hands to the bone on the ranch and in the Peacekeepers to make enough to send home, advising his brother never to take tesserae, keep his odds of being drawn as low as possible.

The first year was awful; holding his breath, standing with the other 18-year-olds in his last year, far more afraid for Abel than he was for himself.

It paled in comparison to being sent home for the Reaping, standing on the sidelines with the other Peacekeepers, and hearing Abel's name called out; the Private standing next to Sam caught his arm, not realizing he'd staggered back as his brother climbed the steps to the stage.

It couldn't be Abel, it just couldn't be, they'd been so careful, they'd promised he'd be safe....

... promised he'd be safe from arrest. Not from being Reaped.

How very convenient his name be drawn the Reaping after conscripting Sam.

He made no attempt to properly fall out of ranks, running towards the Justice Building; he'd only get a few minutes with his brother, and as much as he hoped and prayed to who or whatever might be listening that it wouldn't be the case, it very well could be their last.

Abel couldn't have been sitting in the Justice Building for more than two minutes when Sam opened the door, frantic with worry, mind running a thousand miles a minute trying to think what to say; every word vanished like smoke seeing the tears on his brother's face. Abel stood slowly, but seemed unable to move.

"S..Sam. I'm scared."

Sam crossed the floor in a couple long strides, pulling Abel into a tight hug, combing his fingers through his brother's hair; it was the gesture he'd always used to soothe him when he'd been pushed around at school, or missed their father, or scraped his knees. His own heart was threatening to beat out of his chest, but for Abel's sake, he knew he had to stay calm.

Nothing would shake him faster than seeing his older brother, who might as well be his father at this point, crying like he had no hope of ever seeing him again.

Sam needed to believe he'd see Abel again.

"I know." He replied gently, relieved to hear he sounded far more collected than he felt, "But I need ya to listen, and listen good."

It was as much a relief to Sam as it was to Abel to feel his brother relax, if only a little, hearing his words; whatever he said could very well be the last time he ever spoke to Abel, and everything had to count. The Peacekeepers might give him just a minute more because Sam was one of their own, but he wasn't going to count on it.

"Whatever you say, I'll be listenin', Sam. Trus' me on that."

"I'm gonna sponsor you." He started, "I been savin' my money, you ain't gonna be alone out there. I'll be watchin', I'll send whatever I can."

It wasn't an exorbitant amount of money, Sam's salary as a cadet wasn't that high and he'd been sending much of it home to support Abel and Momma, but it was something. Nothing pained him more than knowing he would be unable to protect his brother, but at the very least, he could help Abel help himself.

"Learn to survive; findin' plants you can eat, water that's safe to drink, startin' a fire, learn to patch yerself up if ya get hurt." He went on, speaking quickly so as not to miss anything important before their time was up, "Don't trust the others too much... they want to win as much as you do."

It was a hard, terrifying truth to be reminded that 23 of the names and faces on the big screens today were going to come home in boxes, if there was anything to send home at all; but Abel had to stay grounded, remember that it was him or them.

God, he was so young... What Sam wouldn't give to be able to volunteer in his place.

"Ya got a strategy? Thinkin' about one?"

"Not at the moment, I don't wanna decide what I wanna do before I see what everything is like." Abel replied, "But findin' some people I trust, jus' a little, won't hurt, will it?"

Sam sighed heavily. He wanted to tell Abel there was someone he could trust, but the fact of the matter was, no one in that arena would be his friend for long. Not when it meant they would have to lose their own lives so Abel could keep his.

"You can trust your mentors." He said, unsure where the words came from but being more and more convinced of their truth the more they roiled around in his thoughts. "Tha's smart though... planning as you go along."

He carried on combing his fingers through his brother's hair, unsure how long he'd been standing there, or how long he had left.

"Yer a smart kid... brave too, goin' and prankin' Peacekeepers for fun." Sam managed a tiny laugh, "Just don't be takin' any unnecessary risks, y'hear me?"

The hug became tighter; Sam had never been so afraid in his life when Abel had come racing home, a squad of Peacekeepers in tow, tears streaming down his face and fear in his eyes as he collided with his brother. A Peacekeeper had walked into one of his pranks, and they were mad. Five rifles had pointed at Sam as he shoved Abel behind him, crowding his brother back against the side of the house and jutting his chin out, daring them to shoot. Knowing they probably would.

Maybe that was why they had decided, against steep odds, to conscript Sam instead of arrest Abel; they thought he was brave.

He certainly didn't feel brave, mentally ticking away the minutes, possibly seconds he had left with his brother. Fighting down the hysteria.

"Yer gonna have a piece 'a me n Daddy with ya too." He said gently, knowing Abel would understand he meant the hat that had been passed down from father to sons. "I can't be with ya in the arena, but... yer not alone. I promise yer not gonna be alone. Just... don't get yerself too trustin' and attached to the others? Promise me that."