tectonic plates {patricia, lethe, kirito}

It was the gentle morning that Lethe turned to, not the warm arms of her husband nor Phelix’s quiet puffs of breath. She slipped outside into the cool breeze, drawing her robe tighter around her, stepping out onto their balcony to survey the Capitol. Of course, there was a television out here and she could see the huge screens that circled the city’s center like specks below her, but she kept hers off and tuned the others out. She and Patricia—truly both of them this time—had failed yet again, but what did it matter? Lethe’s words to them, her pieces of advice were fragile as glass. They dropped them off their plates, as soon as they arrived, and stepped in the shards. The District Five tributes were yet again dead and Lethe felt the hot flashes of blame rising in her like fire as hard as she tried to convince herself that it mattered little. They were destined to be ghosts from the beginning—and did they truly want the life of the Lethe Turners, the Klaus Goraviches, the Arbor Halts, the Saffron Lowes…? Of course they did. It meant they’d be alive. Lethe and Patricia, sole survivors, would carry their remains home, to families with dead eyes and unspoken words: you could have done more.

Her limp blonde curls responded to the breeze, stirring against her neck, and Lethe shivered, stretching her hands to the cold balcony railing which warmed instantly under her touch. The sun was just peaking the building before her, sending golden rays down its reflective exterior, blinding Lethe in one eye and she squeezed her good eye shut, her eyelid blazing red. Alone to her thoughts, she found herself praying Jasper wouldn’t wake and join her, slip his hands around her waist, kiss her neck, whisper into her ear, as if his voice could erase the tumultuous hot hatred swirling round and round her head. There was no denying the pain she was in—even when she tried, she failed. Does Patricia know now? This was the stomach clenching, the heart stopping, the tears rising, the breath catching in the throat—the deep-seated pain that Lethe had tried so hard to avoid. Now, it crept for her, waking her from her sleep, dragging her from her husband’s arms, pulling her outside, to breathe. Just breathe.

She pressed her weight against the railing, hanging her head over the side, blonde curls tumbling off of her shoulders, sucking in the cool, clear air. In and out. Just breathe. Sometimes it was hard. These were the moments where the thoughts of death came to her—Arena death, death before she left even more damage in her wake. Eden would remain a tiny little speck, Phelix even less while Lethe’s very existence would be Patricia, Jasper, Eric’s afterthought. Safe. Someone else would bear the burden that threatened to topple her over this railing, someone else would feel their heart tear every time another was lost. Someone else would worry for their child. There had been people in Lethe’s life who had wished for her death—but they were gone now. Lethe remained, tears streaming down her cheeks, nose breathing in, mouth breathing out, pressing herself against a balcony, face upturned towards a sun that pushed her further back into reality the higher it rose. Behind her, Jasper stirred, Phelix began to whimper and Lethe turned, a smile plastered upon her face, the same red smile they’d painted upon her lips years ago.

*********************************

“You’re sure you’re okay by yourself?” Jasper asked again and Lethe nodded slowly, careful not to disrupt Mel who was styling her hair with her curler. “Okay. We’ll be back for dinner.”

Jasper was taking Phelix out with him for a day. Perhaps to fill the Eden void in his heart, perhaps because he was a good father. Either way, Lethe was glad for the sight of both of their retreating backs. She had thought that Jasper’s presence would be welcome, but instead, yesterday, she wished he had never been coaxed into coming. The Capitol had had him brought in by train, saying they were doing a special on Victors and their spouses and Lethe had excitedly waited up all night, grateful for an excuse for Jasper to warm her bed.

But, it had all been a trap. When conversation went from reminiscing about their marriage and careening into Eden’s world—“She’s twelve now, but, oh man, did she miss out this year. Of course, you, her parents, would be so proud of her if she were reaped, right?”—Lethe was powerless to stop it. All she could was silently signal to her husband to play along, a part he played rather well—“Well, Caesar, she is too young now. Remember, my wife was eighteen when she won. We would be so proud, of course, but we think she needs a few more years to bulk up. Here, look at that photo, you ought to compare it to Lethe as a kid. A twig, right?”—and Lethe smiled blandly, willing her eyes not to betray her horror.

Exhausted, they fell into their bed that night, but Lethe evaded his touch. Even his space in her bed was overwhelming and she retired to Phelix’s room before long, rocking him in a rocking chair long after she heard Jasper finally drift off, having sat up several times to gaze at her through the slightly ajar nursery door. He knew better than to try and coax some kind of feeling out of her. She had gone mute, staring straight ahead, impassable, a state she stayed in in the days following, even when she got the chance to call Eden to be soothed by her excited tween voice. Even that couldn’t erase the thought.

Mel didn’t know better. She chattered on and on about Lethe’s beautiful green eyes—but wouldn’t she like blue? She knew a doctor who could do it—even give Lethe a new working eye! And Phelix was getting so big! And Eden, a teenager now! And Lethe’s stretch marks were gone and didn’t she tell her that the injection treatment would work? Lethe smiled on and off, answered when needed and thanked her long-time stylist when she finished and gave Lethe a gentle head pat on her way out.

Now, off to someone else who also knew better and acted like she didn’t: Patricia. Even when she was silent, Patricia exuded a cold air that chilled her to the bone. And she was accompanying Lethe to dinner.
As expected, there was a stiffness between them as they joined the Sponsors, Victors and Capitolites in the lavish dinner hall. Lethe gulped in another deep breath and put her smile back on as they drifted through the crowd, giving hellos here and there, until Patricia stopped so suddenly that Lethe nearly walked into her.

"Ah fuck, that's Kirito." And Lethe saw him. He is pale, hollow-looking, ghastly, even, staring straight ahead. Lethe knew that look and inside, a familiar, painful jabbing stirred.

"You should say something, y'know? You lost a sibling not long ago."

Patricia nudged Lethe forward and Lethe felt herself take a step forward. Deep breaths, in and out. Those eyes loomed before her. They were glassy, black, dead and yet…there was something. Patricia gave an impatient little sigh behind her and so, Lethe spoke, in a whisper. “Hey Kirito. Are you okay?” Lethe could practically feel Patricia’s burning gaze on the back of her head. She took a gentle step forward, entering Kirito’s space, fingers brushing his hands hanging at his side. They felt cold. “It’s…it’s going to be okay,” she lied through her teeth, staring into those eyes. Something was behind them, but she couldn’t place it. “I know what you’re going through…with my brother…” Her voice drifted out and in that moment, Patricia stewing behind her, Lethe knew she had to do more. Without asking, she lifted her arms and wrapped them around Kirito’s cold body, trying to warm him with an equally icy hug. She felt nothing, and she doubted he felt the same, but she held tight. Perhaps they could relate. She told her final lie: “I’m here for you.”

Lethe tried to feel Kirito, but all she felt was Nell and Sol and Erebus and Luna. The dead were stuck between them, like shards of glass, digging into their palms, breaking their hearts.