I Won't Just Survive // [Kay's Victor AUs]

A year. A year since he'd kissed Klaus goodbye. A year since he'd held Mahlah as she'd fallen asleep for the final time. From a window in the foyer he stood and watched the summer storm. He knew that he if walked out onto the recently finished porch, the rain would slick off his freckled skin and stain his red hair. It would be warm, but not as warm as it had been a year ago on the tropical shore. The patter could never match the rhythm of Leblanc's footfalls, never smell as sweet as Mahlah's hair, never thunder as loudly as Jae in battle.

Elon bowed his head, breathing in the memories, before he opened the door. On the porch, a few camera flashes flickered. Below, in the rain, twenty or so people gathered, huddled beneath threadbare umbrellas. He saw them and it twisted his stomach. No matter how much wealth he and Mace had amassed, it was never enough for everyone.

But today, it would be enough for a few.

"Thank you for coming despite the weather," he spoke softly into the microphone. A year of giving speeches and he was slowly improving. He glanced down at his notes. "I'm honored today to formally open the Shea-Liggens-Moreno Orphanage. As many of you know, this victor house behind me has been under renovations since I returned home last summer. Since then, my brother Mace and I have taken in many orphans in District Ten, to the point where he and I slept on couches in the living room. It's been a joy for both of us to share our home with those most in need. I'm proud to say that today the children won't have to sleep four to a bed any longer. We've designed the orphanage - which I have to admit the children have nicknamed the SheLigMo - " He smiled tightly as the crowd chuckled. "To be a haven. We can accommodate newborns up to adults, and my sister will be running an employment program."

He looked once more at his notes, knowing what came next. But the words blurred in the haze of tears. He tucked the piece of paper in the pocket of his black coat (the only color he wore). For a moment, he stood silently, twisting a bit of red electrical wire around his thumb. "The project is near and dear to my heart. Not just because I grew up in an orphanage, but also because a year ago, I came to know twenty-three other children. Each of them has deeply touched my life and I could think of no fitter way to honor them. When you go inside, you'll find the halls lined with their faces and stories. I hope you'll read them. Of course the three for whom the orphanage is named figure most prominently. You'll find them when you first enter. Instead of photos, I had portraits of Mahlah Shea, Jae Moreno and Walker Liggens commissioned. My gratitude to the wonderful artist who has brought a piece of them back to life."

He took a deep breath, stilling the threatening tears. Slowly, vertebrae by vertebrae, Elon lifted himself tall. He'd grown a few inches since returning to the District and today, he felt them all. He dropped his hands to sides and stood, an adult and an entrepreneur. "Please, come inside. The children have prepared snacks for us. Have a look around. The children can answer any questions you have. I hope today you learn something new about the Sixty-First and especially about my allies. Their memory is the very best part of me."

As he stepped back from the microphone to let the reporters and crowd inside to meet the children, Elon put his hand over his heart and counted twenty-three steady heart beats.