{| misguided ghosts |} [chaos, blitz]

The Justice Building was designed to be uncomfortable, I'm sure of this much as I try to find some sort of solace in the stuffy-over furnished room. Trogon was the first one here, and I suppose maybe that's good so I could get the hardest part out of the way, but then they all just kept coming, Trace and all the kids from the community home and Lyd... Oh God, just when I felt like I couldn't handle any more. It's bizarre and ironic that my sister has somehow risen from her grave just as I'm about to step into mine, and despite all the years that have passed she still fits in my arms the same way she always did, only the feeling of salty moisture leaking through the front of my shirt is different, tears from someone who used to be stronger than anyone I know.

"Lydia, don't, okay? Please don't cry." All the sadness is weighing me down with the most depressing density imaginable, and as much as my heart broke in saying that last goodbye to Trogon (I'm not coming home, please just try to accept that as soon as you can, I'm so sorry, I love you so much), fumbling hands and words that would never, never be enough to tell her just how much she means to me, I can feel the final remaining pieces beginning to fracture as the smaller form of my sister shudders against me.

"I-it wasn't your fault. The fire. It was me, and I got scared and I ran and I forgot everything, I'm so sorry, Denver, please don't hate me." The news should make me angry or at the very least shock me, but the knowledge of my impending demise brings with it a weird serenity that I've never known before, and all I can feel is this deep, resonating sadness as I wrap my arms even more tightly around her dancer's frame and try to re-memorize the other half I thought I'd lost (the selfish part of me hisses that maybe now she'll see what it's like, losing the one person who was always supposed to be by your side, but I shove the thought down so deep that I'll never find it again).

"I don't. I don't hate you, it's okay, I just... I can't believe you're alive."

She blinks up at me a few times before bursting into fresh tears, this anguished sound blooming from her lips in a way that threatens to shatter my soul. "It's not fair, you shouldn't... They can't -"

"They can, Lyd." I cut her off, slipping back into the same speech I've given everyone else. "They can, and they did, and I'm not going to be coming back. It's not fair, but that's how it is." And with that, the Peacekeeper is back, latching a hand around her arm and leading her away in sobbing mess, although she manages to croak out a strangled "I love you" and I can get out a whispered "Love you too, Lyd," before the door slams shut. And in my new solitude, I don't have to be strong anymore. Sinking to the couch and planting my head in shaking hands, I force myself to at least try to hold it together because the Games are already on and I can't cry or seem weak or I'll be done before I even get started. Breathe in. Breathe out. Don't think about what I'm leaving behind. Don't think about how much dying is going to hurt. The door creaks open, and raising my head has never taken so much effort. "Jess."

Just when I thought things couldn't get any harder.