We Could Be Heroes {Lethe}

As a child, Klaus had never been lonely. Although surrounded constantly by his brothers and sisters, he kept to himself as much as he could and happily enjoyed his own company for seventeen fleeting years. A deck of cards of hefty paperback could entertain him for far longer than anything with a heartbeat, and unless he was dragged from his room by a well-meaning family member, he stayed there. It was easy. Companions were far easier for the child to deal with when they were two dimensional - characters brought to life with the turning of a page that could live in his imagination for as long as liked.

It was only after the Games that Klaus began to yearn for something more. At first, he thought the aching inside of him was a guilt brought forth from his survival over the death of his friends - but as life moved on and the thrill of his endeavours faded, he stayed. Even his family - who greeted him from the station in a flurry of love and kind words - were moving on with their own lives. As Victor followed Victor, and he faded back into the shadows he had grown up in, the feeling intensified. He had been swept up in the flow and left out at sea. In the year after his homecoming, the boy had followed the same path each morning in the hope of finding some direction. When the boy at the coffee shop had shown a promise of something more than the mundane, every day lives of those around him, Klaus had jumped at the thought. It was only later, when his mind had reeled back through their meeting, that Klaus knew he couldn't see Callum a second time.

Perhaps it was something about living in a world where everybody knew him and their faces registered blank in his mind - maybe it was simply his itching for something more than a room filled with books and a house filled with people he could no longer connect with. Whatever the events that lead up to his decision, Klaus had made it. And now, he was standing in the training center, an hour early for the meeting he hoped would change his life. The truth was, Klaus Goravich was lonely. The boy in his room who could go days without connecting with another soul was gone - he had become a man who yearned for understanding and love. The knowledge that he himself had changed allowed him to forgive those around him for treating him differently. That didn't stop him wishing that his sister would stop staring at him, eyes filled with terror, or his brother would stop expressing a stony respect that he'd never shown before.

Lethe understood. He liked talking to her because she soothed the growing feeling of alone that threatened to burst from his chest, but the time between their visits to the Capitol was too long. He yearned for someone who took him as him, who looked into his eyes without caring about what made them so grey and reserved. Glancing at his watch, Klaus sighed. Only a minute had passed since the last time he had checked it, and an impatient sigh shuddered through his body. Perhaps this wasn't such a good idea. Like Marina had said, maybe he was too selfish to understand anybody but himself since he had returned home. He'd certainly kept to himself more, his previous skittish streak replaced by a strong and silent gaze punctured by the occasional smile. He noticed the nice things in life just as often - yet now he felt the desire to share them with someone else, give them like a gift to the blind.

Squashing the doubts Marina had left to form in his mind, he reminded himself why he was doing this. The list in his mind was growing with each step. One, he needed it. Two, it was the right thing to do. Three, the world was moving on with out him, and it would force him to keep up a little more. Four, Klaus Goravich refused to be selfish, and this was his way of saving someone else. He had been saved enough times by the strangers he called his best friends. It was somebody else's turn now. He repeated the list over and over to himself, checking his watch every couple of minutes and gradually convincing himself to stay put. Pacing would only attract the attention of a reporter of some kind - the following conversation with his fellow Victor was something Klaus intended to be kept private for twelve long months until he couldn't anymore.

"Lethe," he said, breaking into a smile and getting to his feet. "I'm so glad to see you!"