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Lucy Gray is pressed up against a wall, her shaking hands grazing the cool, smooth marble. She’s panting like a dog in the summer, and her desperate gasps for air will surely draw attention.
Reaper’s footsteps echo louder and louder in her ears and her hand flies to her mouth to quiet the sounds of her labored breathing. He would corner and kill her in no time if she stayed put. Her eyes search frantically for a way out, the only option being the dark tunnel straight ahead.
In a spilt second she turns and runs forward, bounding over bits of rubble strewn about the dusty marble ground. She knows she can’t outrun the long-legged beast, but maybe she can evade him just long enough to tire him out.
The footsteps cease and she thinks she might have lost him, but at the sound of something clattering in the distance she turns her head to look behind her as she runs. Though distracted for only a second, her foot strikes a wayward chunk of metal and she falls to the ground with a sharp thud.
Lucy Gray scrambles to stand up, but as she regains her balance a loud clash behind her steals her attention. Her head whips around and for a moment she sees pitch black nothingness. Out of nowhere, Reaper flies into her view and his mangled hands claw at her face. She stumbles backward in an attempt to get away, but her legs won’t let her turn around. She trips again and lands on her back, her head slamming into a broken pillar. Her weak attempts to rise are in vain, and Reaper stomps over to her, pulling a large dagger from his pocket that she swore he didn’t have five seconds ago. He stares at her for a moment before raising the weapon, and for some reason she can’t look away.
His glassy, wild eyes are the last thing she sees before the world goes black.
Lucy Gray wakes up gasping for air, her feet thrashing about furiously. She’s thankful for the pain she feels as her head smacks into the wall behind her- it lets her know she’s alive, in a room on a bed, all alone. Eyes wild, hair matted with sweat, she heaves and sputters as she scans the room, settling her gaze on a slice of moonlight cutting though the window and drapes. She’s at the small inn on the edge of the district, in a comfortable but lonely bed, all by herself. She’s suddenly consumed by the fact- she’s alone, and she doesn’t like it. Falling asleep is tough for her now, and she suspects it’s because she’s by herself, because of the games- as is everything. She’s turned into a herd animal, requiring the presence of someone else to keep her sanity intact. And not just any person- no, they needed to understand why she had jolted awake in the middle of the night, paralyzed in fear and a lick away from asphyxiating to death.
The idea presents itself swiftly- Coriolanus is right down the hall. In his own bed, likely asleep, and she knows it’s against her better judgment to wake him up. He’s busy tomorrow, and what does she have to do? But seeing as her heart rate has been increasing with every attempt to breathe, Lucy Gray is sure he won’t mind some company- sure he will understand. He kept her alive, now he can try to keep her sane.
After a brief moment of deliberation, she folds- throwing back her duvet and swinging her legs to the cold, dusty ground. She pushes open the heavy door as quietly as she can and pads down the hallway, running her hand over the walls to avoid waking into one. Past an end table topped with a cracked vase, the outline of a rocking chair, and a foreboding heirloom grandfather clock, whose ticking frays at her already worn nerves. Within a few more steps she arrives at his room, taking a moment to hastily comb through her tousled hair with her fingers and rubbing away the tears that have welled up in her eyes, but haven’t fallen. His door is cracked open, like hers was. It felt strange to her, as he seemed like the kind of person that would have his door locked and perhaps bolted shut at night. But she doesn’t dwell on that any longer, instead lifting her chin and walking into the room as the door slowly opens. Unfortunately, the creaking old hinges wake him right up.
“Who’s there?”
His voice is gravelly and threatening, but after a second he seems to recognize her silhouette.
“Lucy Gray- is that you? What’s wrong?”
She opens her mouth to explain to him what has happened, but her voice is now destroyed from all of the choking and half- screaming. Instead of a word she manages to form something between a whimper and a yelp, similar to the sound a dog makes when its owner steps on its tail. This is enough to worry Coriolanus into standing up and stumbling over to her in the dark. Upon reaching Lucy Gray, he extends his arms out toward her, but she instinctively backs up and her eyes widen, resembling those of a preyed-upon wild rabbit.
“It’s just me! Dear god- what’s happened to you? Are you alright?”
She wants to throw herself into his arms and scream at the top of her lungs what the matter is- but she can’t bring herself to.
He gently places one arm on her shoulder and tries his best to look her in the eye. She ducks away from his gaze though, and he tentatively reaches a hand to her face, giving her time to shy away. But she doesn’t, instead raising her head slowly and allowing him to lay his palm onto her cheek.
His thumb swipes softly at the skin under her eyes, brushing away fresh tears.
She tries to regain her composure with a shaky deep breath, but it does nothing to help her case. Though it’s difficult to see, she can just make out the worried look on his face that hasn’t gone away.
“Whatever’s troubling you, it’s alright now- I’m right here, nothing can happen to you- I promise.” She doesn’t think she’s ever heard him speak so softly before.
Promise. Lucy Gray knew that word. It didn’t like her very much.
She chooses to ignore the intrusive thought and instead focus on anchoring her mind back to reality, to the concerned boy in front of her, to the warm hand on her face.
Seconds later, her mind snaps back to the present at the removal of his hand and then his arm, and she wants to scream at him to put them back! She needed him- he said he would stay right here! Where is he going?
She begins to panic, eyes blowing wide again, but is quickly soothed as he wraps an arm around her and pulls her against him, tight enough to where she can hear his heat faintly thrumming in his chest. He lifts his free hand up to hold her head just under his chin, and the tension in her body slowly begins to fade.
“See? Right here”.
She simply nods, unable to form a coherent thought.
For a few minutes, they stand in the middle of the the room, neither one of them saying a thing.
After a brief while, he steps back from her but keeps his hand on her hair and reaches down with the other to intertwine their fingers.
“It’s the games, isn’t it? They won’t leave you to sleep, will they?”
For a split second, a flash of anger hits Lucy Gray. Of course it was the games. It was almost stupid to ask, really. What else could have made her this upset? She wasn’t an especially sensitive girl by any means. But she quickly comes to her senses- he was trying to reassure her, to help her feel better while her mind was out of commission.
“I’m so sorry, Lucy Gray. For asking, for the games, for all of it. You didn’t deserve that.”
But the others did? Part of her wants to ask.
That’s not what he meant though- she’s sure.
Instead, she attempts to speak again, and this time she’s able to:
“Thanks,” she says at barely a whisper. Then, “Sorry for waking you.”
She almost doesn’t mean it. It’s selfish, but she needs him.
“It’s no trouble- sorry for not getting to you first.”
“S’okay,” she mumbles.
“You’re obviously exhausted- you should really try to go back to sleep. You’ll need it for that beautiful voice of yours.” His fingers graze her chin and lift it up to meet his eyes.
Any sense of safety she’s felt since waking up immediately vanishes. There was no way in hell she was going back to that dark, lonely room. No way.
She begins to shake her head almost violently, panic coursing through her body.
Her voice wavers as she begins to protest: “I can’t go back to my bed alone- I just can’t! Every time I close my eyes I hear footsteps belongin’ to someone who wants me dead, and-“
“Hey!” He whispers sharply, almost harsh. She quits rambling to look at him, stunned.
“It’s okay! You can stay with me, if you like.”
She sighs in relief and nods vehemently as he takes her hand and leads her over to his bed.
He sits down and then shifts over, lifting the covers and allowing her to slide in next to him. Lucy Gray doesn’t hesitate, climbing onto the bed and settling herself against him. She drops her head onto his chest and heaves a sigh of pure exhaustion as he pulls the blankets up to her collarbone, tucking her in.
He raises a hand to her head and begins running it lightly through her hair, at which she immediately closes her eyes.
“Better?” He asks, the words whispered almost directly into her ear.
She mumbles back an answer, already beginning to feel tired again, a true tired- not one tainted by nightmares waiting to ambush her at her weakest.
And she feels warm, and safe, and like nothing can get to her now. Except…
“You’ll never have to set foot in that arena again- I promise.” Softly and gently, like he means it.
But there was that word again. As much as she wants to believe him, he really needs to stop throwing it around like confetti.
And really, could he promise that, even if he wanted to? She believed enough that he’d try his best to keep her safe, but if it really came down to it, would he be able to? Would the higher powers surrounding them drag her away one day as they did at the reaping for some kind of late retribution at their unfair advantage? Would they shoot at Coriolanus if he tried to save her? Knowing that, would he even try to save her? She wanted to believe it. But there was always a chance she’d end up back in the arena- maybe not the specific one she’d managed to escape, but anyplace could kill her with enough tries- she wasn’t invincible.
These unsettling thoughts begin to dig at her newly established comfort, but she forces herself to be acutely aware that he is right here- reaching for the hand that is resting across her back and holding it tightly. And it seems to work for a few minutes, until another thought crashes through her head: what if he gets reassigned? What will she do with herself? It doesn’t leave her alone. Her breath begins to quicken as she tries to convince herself that this is ridiculous, but it doesn’t appear to be working.
It all becomes too much. Feisty little Lucy Gray, becoming codependent- ha. She would’ve laughed at the thought had she the energy. Instead, she fists her free hand onto his shirt and sighs. But her breath catches, and her sigh turns into a distressing little half sob that prompts him to press his lips to her hairline, instantly lowering her surging anxiety. Never would Lucy Gray have thought she’d need to rely on someone else to keep her sane. Sure, she panicked a bit before the games, confessing her pressing, primitive fear of death to him- but that was a moment of raw emotion. This, this was her life- and try as she might to rid herself of them, every blood soaked, poison-laced, fear laden memory from that awful arena was engraved into her mind forever.
Coriolanus knew none of this, of course. How could he? She certainly didn’t expect him to, and though she knew he tried his best to soothe her shaking, exhausted self it wouldn’t ever be the same- because in truth they both faced the games with different ideals. He wasn’t the the Capitol’s little minion, not yet anyway, but anyone could tell he wasn’t morally opposed to them the way most sensible folk were. Still, Lucy Gray supposes, he was raised different, and she’s willing to accept that for as long as he stood by her. Forever, she hopes, then almost laughs at herself- nothing is forever.
Somewhere in the depths of her mind, Lucy Gray knows she can’t fully trust him- nor will she ever. She may not allow herself to recognize it yet, but she knows- she just does. She is too clever a girl not to. But for now, he is the only higher-up who seems to care in the slightest about her after the games, and so by extension the only one willing to save her from her own mind; the lives she’s lived. She had the covey, and they cared about her, yes. But they couldn’t truly protect her anymore, and she knows it.
Sleep finally begins to pull at her, though. Her head and limbs grow heavy, separating her from any semblance of consciousness she’s had since waking up. His lips are back on her forehead and her breaths become slow and deep, almost relaxed. Tomorrow, he’ll have to leave and return to his life, kept away from her behind barbed wire.
Tomorrow night, she’ll be in bed alone. Perhaps Maude Ivory will try to join her- but though she loves her darling little cousin, her small body curled up next to Lucy Gray’s doesn’t soothe her the way being wrapped in his arms does.
Her life will revert to normal once the sun rises and her eyelids flutter open. He’ll probably be long gone- maybe giving her a kiss before she leaves, but it won’t make him any less gone.
For now, though, this pocket of bliss that they’ve created is enough to keep her sated.
The last string of words that swirls through her mind before she’s consumed by her dreams presents a glimmer of hope that she knows better than to believe:
You’re mine and I’m yours. It’s written in the stars.