Chapter Text
A thunderstorm raged outside. It was the serious kind, accompanied by lightning ripping through a black sky and torrents of rain that caused rivers to overflow and wind that knocked over ancient trees. Or that at least was how Gloss pictured it when he ran into a group of dripping wet maintenance workers who returned from their morning inspection round on the surface level. One had a bright green leaf stuck to his cheek. It was the only dash of color in his whole appearance.
‘A storm?’ Gloss asked.
The worker, a young guy from District 13 he knew from one of the many interpretation courses, shuddered. “Rain? Oh, yeah, like you wouldn’t believe.”
Gloss had not witnessed a storm from up close in ages. He had always been stuck in prisons of some sort. This time, he was underground.
Cashmere had always been terrified of storms. When they had grown up, it had been the only thing that had ever really fazed her. People couldn’t hurt her because people could be swayed but nature was unrelenting, or so she had said when she had still prepared to become a victor. She hadn’t known yet how cruel people could be. Nature hurt the unlucky and the unprepared. People were systematic with the pain they inflicted. But storms had still remained as her oldest fear.
He flinched when he thought he heard the echo of rumbling thunder.
A storm in District 13 didn’t mean that there was a storm back home. The distance was too great. For all he knew, Cashmere enjoyed a warm summer day.
But still, no matter where he was, storms always made him realize how powerless he really was. He couldn’t help her. If she was trapped in a storm, she would have to deal with it on her own. He had promised to always protect her but the moment she had volunteered, he had not been able to do anything for her.
‘I hate storms,’ he said.
The guy from District 13 laughed because he probably didn’t understand.
His first try needed to be perfect.
Communications with the other districts had been established over the last couple of months of their stay underground but from the start, there had been a bias. He had not minded when Luke had ensured that the first victor to be contacted had been his daughter because Luke had done enough to deserve that much.
But then it had been District 3 and 4 and 6 and 9 and 11 and whenever he had asked, he had heard the same thing. District 1 was different. District 1 was harder to approach. District 1 was monitored. No one ever had the guts to be honest about what they meant because in the end, they still needed him and his connection to one of the victors. But that never meant that they trusted him. They had all lost their tongues and were supposed to be equals but he was still considered a potential traitor because of his home district.
There was only one week left until the Reaping. They probably figured that it was too late for him to sabotage anything major because suddenly, District 1 could be reached. Others had months to contact their relatives. Months spent trying different communication tools. Months in which their family members could get used to them being mute.
He, meanwhile, had a week.
He had no room for experiments.
‘I need your help,’ he said after rapping his knuckles on the canteen table to get Peeta’s attention and slid down on the chair across from him. Peeta jumped in surprise, so Gloss gave him a second to calm down before he added, ‘I’m going to talk to my sister after lunch. I need an interpreter.’
Peeta eyed him with suspicion but didn’t immediately refuse. Gloss had banked on that. No matter how little Peeta liked him, he still had a degree of natural benevolence he couldn’t easily shake.
“Why him though? District 13 has a ton of interpreters,” Aaron said from the other side of the table and drew his spoon through his porridge with a bored gesture.
Gloss tried to keep his expression even because he had considered the possibility of this happening. He had prepared for this. It was difficult to catch Peeta on his own but the Brother was still easier to deal with than the Knight in Shining Armor.
‘They’re terrible,’ Gloss said.
Aaron snorted a laugh and turned to Peeta. “See? I told you their whole syllabus stinks. They can write as many dictionaries as they like, it makes no sense if they don’t actually practice speaking to the people they supposedly want to help.”
Gloss slammed his hand on the table to stop them from going off-topic. They both flinched.
‘You could use the machine Glitch built,’ Peeta said after a pause.
Gloss rolled his eyes. Glitch’s machine was barely better than sending text messages because it all hinged on the user to type what they tried to say and then have a machine say the words out loud. It was bothersome. Also, it only came with three possible voice models: robotic male, robotic female, and teenage Finnick.
‘That thing is useless. I don’t want to end up like Jaap,’ he said.
Peeta sighed. In theory, a bad interpreter could be an immense waste of time, too. That had been the whole idea behind the voice transmitter. If anything, it should have been faster and more discrete to type because it cut out the potential misunderstandings caused by the additional human link. The issue was that the system worked for people like Glitch who were fast typers but not for someone like Jaap whose constant misspellings had apparently confused his sister so much that all his calls were now accompanied. Peeta, as the one Jaap usually picked, would understand that better than anyone.
“Right. But what makes you think he owes you anything?” Aaron asked. He always had a casual way of talking that rubbed Gloss the wrong way. As if the whole world was nothing like a joke to him. But sometimes, especially when it was about his brother, there was an edge to his voice. A more real one. “Remember? How we all ended up here after he had to plead with the mayor to spare Finnick after he threw you into a cart with cabbages because you threatened us?”
Gloss felt his jaw muscles tighten. There was no point in stupid arguments about things that were already in the past. But he couldn’t solve this with more violence. He had to be calm.
‘I haven’t talked to her in thirteen years,’ he said to Peeta.
It was pathetic to plead but he could tell it worked. Peeta looked uncomfortable and Aaron shut up. If that was what it took, he could be even more pathetic.
‘They put my tongue in a box and gave it to her,’ he said. At that, the brothers seemed visibly sick. Their disgust gave him the momentum he needed. ‘That was the last time I saw her. I can’t waste time on figuring out how to talk to her. I need to know if she’s okay.’
Peeta furrowed his brows and Gloss knew he had him. Compassion was a weakness.
But then, Aaron decided to interfere again. “I’ll help you,” he said. It was hard to read his expression.
‘No,’ Gloss said.
Aaron smiled. ‘You can choose,’ he signed. ‘Me or someone from District 13.’
He could be arrogant because the answer to a narrow question like that was obvious. Aaron, like most regular people who understood sign language, usually chose to speak out loud to all Avoxes, so his signs were less clean than Peeta’s. But still, he clearly understood almost anything. That was all Gloss needed to talk to Cashmere. Aaron wasn't the worst option based on ability alone.
The issue was that the idea of being indebted to him left Gloss with a foul aftertaste.
He threw a glance at Peeta.
“Listen, if you keep looking at him with puppy eyes, he will obviously agree and I wouldn’t dare stop him. He does what he wants anyway,” Aaron said and sounded amused. “But lunch is still hours away and news travel fast. I bet Finnick has been itching for an excuse to push you down one of those old maintenance shafts.”
Gloss glared at him but Aaron just shrugged. “I’m just saying. My brother may be the better interpreter but there’s a catch. If I was you, I wouldn’t shun the kind offer of his diligent disciple who has no one to protect him.”
Without skipping a beat, Peeta helpfully added, ‘Aaron is really good.’
Gloss scoffed.
He didn’t want to agree to that deal but the truth was that he really didn’t have much of a choice.
He doubted Finnick would fight him. They had spent the last couple of months successfully avoiding each other and based on what he had seen, Finnick didn’t interfere with anything Peeta chose to do. He had heard the same thing from others. The only thing that could stop Finnick was a decision made by Peeta.
But likewise, Gloss couldn’t really force Peeta either and anything agreed upon by the Mellark brothers was a fact he had to accept. They were stubborn like that.
So he put on a smile, pretended to be grateful, and tried to tell himself that Aaron wouldn’t be so reckless to sabotage Gloss’ only shot at convincing his sister to join their rebellion.
His hands were sweaty as he watched Glitch and Chrome, the other District 3 technician, set up the screen. He tried to rub his palms against his pants but the gray fabric wasn’t absorbent enough. The more friction he caused, the sweatier his hands felt.
“Nervous?” Aaron asked. He leaned against the wall of the small room with his arms folded in front of his chest. Chrome turned around to him and threw him a questioning glance. Aaron nodded at Gloss with a smirk.
Gloss ignored them.
He wasn’t nervous. But he wasn’t happy either. Part of him wanted to stand up and smash the equipment so that he would be spared from the whole ordeal.
The reality of the moment only slowly sunk in. He had spent so much time arguing for a chance to get a call that he had failed to consider what it would really mean to face his sister.
He had pictured this for years but it had never been more than a nightmare he had woken up from, drenched in sweat, his voice hoarse from his unintelligible screams. He needed to talk to her. He needed to tell her that it wasn’t her fault. But how could he prove that when he couldn’t even speak? When he still wasn’t more than what she had seen last? Not a man. Not the brother she had grown up with but just–
Just a cripple. A thing. The shadow of who he used to be.
The screen was filled with static.
“Where do you want me to stand?” Aaron asked. He was still in front of the wall. “I only assisted Jaap before and he introduced me to his sister but I understand if you don’t want that. I can also stay out of view.”
Chrome signed something to Glitch and walked out of the room. The screen flickered to life but only showed an empty room filled with shadows.
“Gloss?” Aaron asked.
Glitch nodded at Gloss and left the room.
“Gloss, how do you want to do this?” Aaron asked and came a little closer.
Muffled sounds came through the speakers and Aaron stopped to look at the screen.
“There on the chair?” a voice asked. It was warped. Like a sound filtered through water. Still, Gloss immediately recognized it although he had not heard it outside of public broadcasts in a decade.
“Is that him?” Cashmere asked when only her legs were visible on the screen. Someone told her to sit down. When her face appeared on the screen, she asked, “Gloss?”
She sounded uncertain. It wasn’t the usual version of her, the confident one, the one that could take on the whole world, but the one from a stormy day. The one that had told him what the Capitol had asked her to do.
He felt as though he was struck by lightning.
It was her. The same eyes. The same nose. The same posture. The same voice.
It was her and he didn’t know what to do.
When he didn’t reply, she seemed bewildered and looked behind her. “Is this live? I think the picture is frozen.”
“Maybe there’s an issue with the connection,” someone said and another pair of legs appeared on the screen. “Maybe we’ll have to try later. They told me this might happen.”
Cashmere kept throwing glances at the camera. She seemed skinnier than before. More pale, too.
Maybe it was the lighting.
Maybe it was for the best if it ended like this.
“Wait, no, we can hear you,” Aaron quickly said. The legs turned around and Cashmere seemed confused, so Aaron walked up to the camera until he was within view. “Hi. Can you see me? There’s nothing wrong with the connection. Gloss just genuinely doesn’t move. He’s like a boulder.”
Gloss shot Aaron a glare.
“Oh,” Cashmere said. The legs left the screen and said something to her but she just stared at the camera.
“I’m Aaron by the way,” Aaron said and sat down on the chair next to Gloss. “I’m here to translate.”
Cashmere furrowed her brows. She must have wondered how this could possibly work. Avoxes couldn’t talk, everyone knew that. “So how…” She touched her mouth in discomfort. She probably thought of the last time she had seen him. “How is he? Is he well?”
Gloss averted his eyes. He wasn’t well. There was no good answer to that question.
“I suppose so,” Aaron said happily. “He’s acting all shy now but he’s usually pretty lively. He even picked a fight with me during breakfast.”
“A fight?” Cashmere asked.
‘Shut up,’ Gloss said.
Aaron started cackling which in return visibly confused Cashmere even more. “Is he talking to you?” she asked. “What is he saying?”
‘Don’t translate that,’ Gloss said, causing Aaron to laugh even harder. This was clearly all a big joke to him.
“So how about you stop threatening me and talk to her?” he asked and nodded at the screen. “I mean, what is this? Am I suddenly a mother who forces her son to talk to a mean aunt? Aren’t you the guy who went around and demanded to talk to his sister because he’s some bigshot who would have become a victor without even trying if not for getting injured before the Reaping?” He turned to the screen. “Did that even happen? I mean, you’re his sister, so you would know, right? Be honest, did he get cold feet and pretended to be sick? He never elaborates on what kind of horrible injury that would have been and if you ask me, that’s pretty suspicious.”
Gloss scoffed and considered throwing him out to end that farce. He had told him before that he had no time to waste. He wasn't Jaap whose whole existence was a comedy routine.
But then something odd happened.
Cashmere laughed.
It was a sound from a faint memory.
When he looked at the screen, he saw her the way he hadn’t in years. She grinned like the girl she had been.
“There really was an injury,” she said. “He broke his thumb when he played with the neighbor’s dog.”
Aaron gasped and pointed at Gloss in accusation. “I knew it! I knew it would be something stupid.”
Gloss rolled his eyes. ‘It was a big dog.’
“What do you mean, it was a big dog?” Aaron asked. “You think that makes it less embarrassing?”
Aaron was loud, so Gloss couldn’t immediately tell that there was a shift in Cashmere’s voice. She still smiled but when he turned back to the screen, her laughter was interspersed with sobs.
He had always had trouble seeing her cry.
‘Are you okay?’ he asked because he was too far away to do anything else than ask useless questions.
It took Aaron a second to understand the cue and repeat his words.
Her smile was forced as she quickly wiped her eyes. “I’m fine. It’s just–” She pressed her lips together. “I’m just so glad. I didn’t know if you were even–” She trailed off and seemed guilty to even entertain the thought that something could have happened to him.
‘I’m alive,’ he said. ‘It's not that easy to kill me.’
As the call continued, he eventually started to forget that it wasn’t just him and Cashmere in the room. Part of him registered that Aaron was still there, and yet it felt as if the last thirteen years hadn’t happened. They were older now but Cashmere was still the same person. Home was still the same place. For a short while, he could fool himself into believing that he had never really left.
But then they were running out of time and Glitch returned and Cashmere said, “Aaron, was it? Thank you so much for your help!”
‘He barely did anything,’ Gloss said and only realized that she couldn’t understand him when Aaron instead smiled and said, “You’re very welcome.”
It was odd to have someone else become his voice.
He had never thought about it. During the last couple of years, he had only talked to other Avoxes and eventually the few others who had chosen to learn sign language. He had never wanted to be like Jaap and Finnick who relied on Peeta to announce their thoughts.
But it was alluring. The idea of not having to try so hard. The idea of having a voice, even if it had a District 12 accent.
‘I will need your help again,’ he said as they stood in the elevator up to the living quarters. He didn’t phrase it as a question because, at this point, he couldn’t take no for an answer. There still were too many things left that he needed to discuss with Cashmere.
Aaron leaned against the opposite wall and furrowed his brows. He seemed about to say something annoying but then only shrugged. ‘All right.’