Chapter Text
Secrets are mine to keep,
protected by silent sleep.
I'm not ready for the weight of us.
- The Weight Of Us (Sanders Bohlke)
∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞
"I volunteer," Aimé yelled and even though the plaza had already been silent, he could have sworn people now stopped breathing all together as they all stared at him. One of the escorts of twelve, Copper, cleared his throat, his hand still hovering above the bowl of paper slips. The crowd turned back to the stage.
"Young man, while I find your courage inspiring, I think you have to wait for someone to be chosen to actually volunteer for." He looked unsure at his fellow escort, Moe, but she shrugged.
"Formally, I guess that's required, yeah."
He looked around but no one else seemed to have an opinion so he took a paper slip out of the bowl. "Ilja Ripword"
The heads of the people whipped around, not to the small boy Ilja, but to Aimé.
"So...," Copper said.
"Do I have to say it again or...?"
"I-" Copper started, but Moe cut him off, "Just come up here, boy." Aimé made his way up the steps to the small stage.
"A volunteer, how exciting!" Copper said as Aimé stood next to him. His voice echoed across the plaza.
"And now onto our female tribute." he walked over to another bowl and took out a slip. "Johanna Gauß."
There was a scream but not from the crowd of girls that now parted for Johanna, but from the crowd of onlookers. A young man, too old to be eligible for reaping, was trying to get to Johanna. He was scrawny and looked slightly sickly, even next to the other people of twelve, so the peacekeepers didn't budge even as he threw himself at them with his whole weight, still screaming. Johanna on the other hand looked very collected as she walked up next to Aimé. Out of the corner of his eye Aimé saw her smile softly at the man in the crowd and make a small calming hand gesture and he quieted and stopped struggling.
"Fantastic, Johanna Gauß and- what's your name?", he asked Aimé.
"Aimé Bonpland."
"And Aimé Bonpland. Now that we have two brave tributes from distinct twelve, there is nothing left for me to do except wish you all happy Hunger Games and may the odds be ever in our favor."
Aimé and Johanna were ushered into the city hall, followed by the two escorts and put into separate rooms. Aimé knew this was the part where the tributes friends and family could come and say their goodbyes. He also knew that no one would be coming for him so he just wandered around the room, looking at the paintings and out the window, where people just started leaving the plaza. From the hallway he could hear the man from earlier yell "The capitol can suck my-" before a door slammed shut, muffling his voice. Aimé wondered whether he was a brother of Johanna's, or maybe her boyfriend. Maybe it was better, he thought, not to have anyone. But then again if there was something for him in twelve he'd not have volunteered today.
Will they think I'm brave, he though, to sacrifice myself so no other innocent kid has to, a martyr, or will they just think I'm crazy? While he was waiting, he searched through the cupboards and cabinets in the room for something to drink. He could feel the dull edge of a hangover rushing in and didn't want to be sober ever again. He'd drunk earlier today for courage, and last night because sleep wasn't happening and the night before that because it felt like hunger was eating the inside of his stomach, so now his head was throbbing. There was nothing alcoholic in the room only a carafe with water so he drank that.
They were brought onto the train to take them to the capitol shortly after. It was all beautiful, all like on television, except somehow even more fake looking.
They sat together in the dining car with their escorts, Moe and Copper. Aimé didn't eat, but was nursing a glass of liquor, despite protest from Copper.
Johanna managed to almost look like she hadn't been crying. She also looked like she was going to throw up, but was still wolfing down food with determination.
Clever girl, Aimé thought, We have a fighter. Copper was crinkling his surgically cute nose at Johanna's eating habits. Moe watched, a corner of her mouth twitching up in amusement. "
So, tell me something about yourselves." Copper said sickeningly enthusiastically. Aimé glanced over to Johanna who was chewing while looking none the wiser what to say to this man who clearly had no concept of life in the Seam.
"Who was that young man so emotional about you getting reaped?" Copper prompted obviously assuming that'd be a helpful conversation starter.
Johanna froze mid chewing. Then she held up one trembling hand, revealing a thin metal band around her finger.
Copper gasped, "Oh, darling. No surprise he was so distressed. I am sorry." He didn't sound sorry. He sounded excited. "When did you get married?" His eyes flicked down to where Johanna's stomach was concealed by the table, "You're not-"
"Copper," Moe said with a firm voice interrupting him. "Why don't you finish eating first and we can talk about it later."
Aimé hadn't heard her speak since the reaping and was almost surprised by the hint of gentleness in her voice. She just didn't look the gentle, tactful type with her black clothes that were actually black, not like the black clothes people in twelve wore which were of a dusty black, washed out and smudged with coal, but jet black like you were staring into a black hole.
Johanna continued eating and there was an uncomfortable silence for a few minutes. Eventually Aimé gently put his hand on Johanna's, that was holding her fork. "You should take it slow or it's all gonna come back up faster than you can say Happy Hunger Games. You'll have plenty of time to gain a few pounds before the games."
Johanna nodded slowly and put her fork down. She looked almost relieved to stop eating.
They were brought to their cabins after that to 'settle in'. Aimé wondered what that meant as there were no clothes to unpack and so he was inspecting the colorful strange smelling bottles of soap in the bathroom when he heard a tentative knock on his door.
It was Johanna. Aimé gestured her in understanding that the last thing she wanted to be right now was alone.
"So have you 'settled in'?"
She shot him a defiant look. They ended up watching some Capitol soap opera on the giant television, neither of them really paying attention. Later Aimé held Johanna as she threw up. He found some ginger and peppermint in the kitchen and made her tea to settle her stomach.
"Do you still grow herbs in your garden back home?" Johanna asked him.
Aimé looked up, surprised she knew that much about him. In twelve he was kind of invisible, no family, the people he did know barely friends more acquaintances. He made a decent living from selling the herbs he grew to the pharmacist and some healers and sometimes on the Hub and when he was short on money he could grow some vegetables for himself. The soil in twelve was barren and dusty and things did not grow easily, but Aimé was patient and he had love for all things growing so he managed to coax broadleaf plantain and sage and valerian out of the dirt.
"When my baby sister was teething you gave us some chamomile. She had been crying for days and you said you were annoyed by it and couldn't hear it any longer and you showed me how to boil the chamomile and put it in a piece of cloth and let her suck on it. You didn't even charge anything for it."
"Hm," Aimé hummed but he didn't remember. Johanna was quiet for a while but Aimé could tell she wanted to say something, was considering the right words. Aimé knew what was coming.
"Why did you volunteer?", she said then, looking him dead in the eye.
Aimé held her stare, "Let that be my worry and be glad that it wasn't the little Ribwort boy who I know has asthma and would have dropped dead ten seconds into the games just from the excitement."
"You are going to die." she said.
Aimé shrugged but it didn't come as nonchalantly as he was going for.
She laughed. It sounded hollow. "Oh, don't tell me you don't care."
"It's not about whether I care. It's about whether someone else cares. Yesterday I was thinking, if I got reaped tomorrow, would anyone care? For most of those other kids there are parents having to watch their sons get slaughtered publicly."
Her eyes went soft then and Aimé knew she drew the wrong conclusion. "Oh. That's - that's very selfless of you."
"No, it's not. That's not why I volunteered! I mean I wish it was. That is the kind of person I'd like to be but I'm just-"
Johanna interrupted him, her voice so small, "This is a suicide mission? I mean, it is for everyone. But you're going willingly."
"Don't you think if I wanted to commit suicide I couldn't just take one of the dozens plants I know the exact lethal doze of?" he said but he did not sound so sure.
Johanna did not press the issue. After a moment of silence she said, "Carl was so angry about not being allowed to volunteer for me. He would have on the spot."
"Carl's your..." Aimé nodded at the band on her finger.
"Yes. We married only a few months ago. This would have been my last year of reaping. I somehow had a feeling it wouldn't go well. I made preparations. Carl is a good man but he won't make it alone. He forgets to eat if I don't remind him," she smiled softly, "If I don't make it back, he's gonna marry my best friend Minna, so he'll have someone to take care of him."
Aimé was amazed by how calm and practical she talked about her husband marrying someone else. He also noticed how she said if, not when she didn't make it back, and he really wanted her to win.
Copper opened the door then without knocking and Aimé and Johanna looked up startled. "Moe and I are watching the reaping ceremonies of the other distinct and having a little tea. Would you like to join?"
Aimé shrugged, so Johanna said "Sure."
For Aimé the other tributes were one face after the other with little meaning. He watched Johanna more than the screen and he could see her mentally taking notes on her future competitors. Copper was giving a running commentary on who he thought would be easy to beat and who to look out for. Moe was cleaning her fingernails with a knife.
The days on the train went by quicker than Aimé would have thought. He taught Johanna to slowly increase her portions so she could keep her food down. He also taught her what he knew about plants that could come in handy in the arena, which plants were poisonous, which she could put on a wound to ward of infection. Every time she would say how sorry she was that she could barely teach him anything. He said, it didn't matter, he wasn't trying to outlast anyone.
Arriving at the capitol was mainly overwhelming. Colors and smells and sounds all rushed past Aimé, barely leaving an impression. They met their stylist Safran who talked in a voice so slow Aimé had trouble remembering the beginning of a sentence once he had finished it but he was gentle and actually asked them what they would be comfortable with wearing.
Johanna was declared sweet and Aimé roguishly handsome by the team around Safran. Their makeup for the tribute parade was mainly just coal dust around their eyes that in Aimé's opinion made them look like raccoons and their costumes turned out to be mainly sooty ropes artfully draped around their bodies. They didn't look too bad and actually covered a decent amount of their bodies as long as they didn't move too much. After an embarrassing episode in the dressing room where Aimé had tried to pick something up from the floor and the ropes had somehow slipped and disentangled in just the wrong places and Copper had gasped and Moe whistled, he was now trying to stand very still next to their chariot and Johanna who was sizing up the other tributes around them.
"Jo." Aimé bit his lip.
"What?" Johanna didn't take her eyes of the male tribute from two, whether it was to gauge his potential as her murderer or because he was shirtless save a metal chain across his torso like a sash, slick machine oil dripping from the chain links onto his abs, Aimé couldn't tell.
"I have to pee. Do you think there's enough time?"
Johanna looked at him amused, "Yeah, there's still a few minutes. Go ahead, I'll save you a seat."
Aimé mumbled a thanks then went off to look for a bathroom. He didn't get very far, just down a hallway, around a corner - then he found himself crashing into someone. When he looked up it was into the storm-grey eyes of another tribute.
"Sorry," Aimé said. The boy he had run into looked down on himself.
"Shit. Sorry," Aimé said again. The boy's clothes were of a bright warm yellow like the fields of wheat in district 9 but across it were black sooty stripes where Aimé had bumped into him with his coal dusted ropes. The boy opened his mouth to say something, but he was interrupted by a woman walking up to them.
"Alexander, there you are. We're almost ready to go.", she started fuzzing with his hair which was wavy and golden like the wheat his costume was imitating. Then her eyes went to the black smudges on his front, "What on earth-" Her eyes fell on Aimé, his costume, she shook her head slightly, pursing her lips, before she ushered the district 9 boy back to the chariots.
Aimé hurried to the bathrooms and when he came back the other tributes and their entourages were whispering and looking at him, when before they barely payed him any attention.
"What's going on?", he mumbled as he stood next to Johanna but she didn't get a chance to answer.
Copper was coming over gesticulating wildly, "Come on, we're ready to go. Aimé, you'll have some explaining to do later, but for now just please try to look presentable."
They were waiting for the other districts' chariots to go past as twelve would enter the training center's courtyard last. Aimé watched district 9's chariot go by. The girl from nine was small, maybe thirteen, her blond hair in braids made to look like ears of wheat. The boy next to her was staring straight ahead.
Moe was walking around Aimé and Johanna's chariot making sure everything was in place and caught him staring. She smirked, "Nice one, kid."
Aimé wondered what could possibly have happened in the two minutes between bumping into the boy from nine and coming back from the bathroom but was momentarily distracted as their chariot went through the gates into the courtyard were he was blinded by light and noise. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Johanna wave but he didn't trust his costume enough to attempt such a risky move.
After the tribute parade back in their apartment, they watched the replay with Caesar Flickermann and Claudius Templesmith commenting on this year's costumes. When the chariot of district nine appeared, Caesar nodded appreciatively.
"Beautiful costumes on Alexander Humboldt and Suzie Emmer this year. You can barely look at them. They're shining like the actual sun."
"Absolutely, Caesar. Now, dear viewers, if the name Humboldt sounds familiar to you, you might remember the games from three years ago, when it was actually the boy's older brother, Wilhelm Humboldt, who was the victor, can you believe that?"
"Incredible. What are the odds of two brothers being reaped?"
"Well, if I were young Alexander I would worry more about the odds of two brothers winning the games."
They both laughed and Aimé felt sick. The screen showed a close up of Alexander.
Claudius leaned forward, "But wait, what's that on his costume?"
Despite obvious efforts to dust off the stains left by Aimé's costume you could still see faint streaks of coal black.
"Now, if I'm not mistaken nine's stylist is Aura Lennox. It's not like her at all to spoil a clean classic design with details like this. Maybe it is supposed to symbolize the dirt wheat grows from but for me it just doesn't work."
Caesar nodded, "Yes, but I almost think this detail was not done by Aura. It isn't even on Miss Emmer's costume. Dear viewers, I think we got ourselves a wardrobe malfunction. To me it almost looks like Mr Humboldt ran into a freshly painted wall."
"Well, I'm sure we'll hear all about it in the stylist interviews later today. Stay tuned, dear viewers. Now we have the tributes from district ten and oh, it looks like they've gone for leather outfits again, not the most fortunate..."
Aimé watched the tributes from ten and eleven go by. To him it seemed that by this point the commentators had already forgotten nine's costumes.
"And we are already at district twelve. Now, twelve's Aimé Bonpland surprised us all at the reaping when he volunteered before there was someone to volunteer for. I can't wait for those interview."
"Me neither. Next to him we see Johanna Gauß, who got married only months ago. Look at the reaction of her fiance at the ceremony."
A video popped up on the screen of Carl the moment Johanna's name got called. Claudius wiped a non-existent tear from his eye, "I do like a tragic love story, don't you."
Next to him Aimé could see the muscles in Johanna's jaw tighten as she gritted her teeth but she didn't look away from the screen.
"The outfits from twelve are not the worst I've seen. I believe these are ropes like they would use in the mines."
From his seat on the coach Aimé watched on screen how one horse of their chariot stumbled slightly and saw himself put a hand to his chest to keep the ropes in place. He remembered this happening but didn't think it was a big deal. What he could now see on screen was that as he took his hand away it was streaked with soot from the ropes. The two commentators on screen had seen it too and looked at each other.
"Now I don't wanna draw any hasty conclusions, but that looks like the color of the ropes rubs off..."
"And it almost appears like Humboldt's costume had a brief encounter with Bonpland's."
"Now now, that could have happened any couple of ways. Maybe just from unfortunate costume storage." Caesar was grinning like a wolf, he knew it couldn't have happened that way.
"Still we would like to remind all tributes that any kind of combat before the actual games is strictly prohibited."
"Even the fun kind?" Claudius said and winked into the camera.
"Especially the fun kind." Caesar stilled and listened to his earpiece for a moment, "I'm being told all the chariots are in place and it's time for President Snow to officially open the games. Ladies and gentlemen, please stand up for the official anthem of Panem."
Aimé turned away from the screen and he realized that everyone in the room, Johanna and their team of escorts and stylists, was looking at him.
"You didn't really beat the boy from nine up, did you?", Johanna asked him wide eyed.
"You really think...?" Aimé looked around the room where everyone stared at him slightly uncomfortable. Moe shrugged.
"Did he look beaten up to you? Listen, I just ran into him when I was going to the bathroom. He can tell you that."
"Hm, I don't doubt that. Thing is, you having a fight isn't even the most popular theory anymore." Moe nodded towards the screen, where they were now showing red carpet interviews of celebrities going to the after party of the tribute parade. The reporter was standing next to a glamorous woman, that Aimé recognized as a movie star.
"Very exciting opening. We know you like to do a bit of betting on the victor. Already any favorites?" He held his microphone toward the woman.
"Well, obviously one and two have strong contenders like every year. But I do like an underdog, so I will pay close attention to the boy from twelve."
The reporter nodded, "The wildcard, as people are already calling him. Full of surprises."
"Yes, I'm excited to see more of him. And the boy from nine." she laughed her fake garish laugh.
"I already talked to many people today who think it's more than a premature quarrel. Thoughts on that?"
"Well, I understand that if you're that age and you might have only a few days left to live ... Hmm, all I'm saying is aggression can turn into sexual tension quicker than you think."
The reporter turned back to the camera, "Thank you, and back to he studio."
Aimé's mouth fell open. "What the f-"
"No need for such strong language, young man." Copper interrupted him.
"Actually this is not bad.", Moe rested her chin in her hand, thinking, "Tributes from twelve are so easily overlooked. You're pretty good at bringing some attention to you so far. We'll just have to make a good plan for the interviews."
Aimé buried his face in his hands, "This is not how I wanted this to go."
Moe shrugged, "Well, honey, seems like the odds are not in your favor, tough luck."
Johanna looked at him with disbelieve, "Did you even think this through?"
"Did you?"Aimé countered defensively.
"I got drawn, you volunteered! You must have thought about what that entailed."
Moe sneered, "You've seen him, you can bet he makes shit up as he goes."
Copper gasped and Moe shot him an annoyed look, "Oh, come on."
Aimé could see Copper blush even under all his makeup as he fuzzed with his electronic timetable.
"We should get going. They want you down in the training center in a few minutes."
After going down an elevator for what felt like half an hour they met the other tributes, dressed like them in sleek active wear, black with neon highlights following the latest capitol trend. Sports clothing was an unknown thing in twelve, where you didn't waste precious calories on unnecessary running about. Aimé got a glimpse of Alexander, the boy from nine. He almost didn't recognize the girl next to him as Suzie, because now she had mouse brown hair, that they must have died blonde for the ceremony to fit all the wheat. Alexander's hair was still golden blonde though and it clashed beautifully with the neon pink collar detail on his shirt. There was a short introduction by one of the trainers, in which area they could train which skills and the like.
Aimé didn't know where to go at first, so for a while he watched Johanna carve a blow gun and darts out of wood.
"You can make these deadly if you know which plants to use," he told her, "Curare is the traditional poison of choice in this case but just about anything from nightlock to water hemlock will do the job, even oleander."
"Oleander is very ineffective," someone said from behind them and Aimé and Johanna spun around. It was Alexander, from nine. He picked up one poison dart and poked the tip with his finger. "With oleander you leave plenty time for them to find you because you just revealed your location, and kill you before they even start to vomit. Also you need your darts to be sharper. These won't even pierce skin, let alone clothes." He stabbed the dart at his own chest to prove the point.
"I don't believe we've met." He put the dart down and extended a hand to Johanna who took it hesitantly. "Alexander Humboldt, pleasure."
He also held his hand out to Aimé, who kept his arms crossed.
"I believe we've met."
Alexander didn't move his hand an inch, "Yes. Not so easy to forget when you're the reason we had to redo my entire interview strategy. Still, we haven't been introduced."
Aimé took his hand but made sure to squeeze his fingers hard.
Alexander didn't flinch, "I have to compliment you on your knowledge of plants."
"Likewise." Aimé said. He felt a strange tension between them that he was not sure he wanted.
"Although you should have known that oleander despite it's reputation is hardly ever deadly."
"Thank you for telling me. I have very little first hand experience with that particular plant."
"You're welcome. I conducted an extensive series of experiments with oleander a few years ago."
"Good to know."
Next to them Johanna cleared her throat. Aimé looked at her, then down where he was still holding Alexander's hand. Two of the careers that had been training nearby were snickering. Alexander let his hand go like he burned himself.
"It was nice meeting you, Alexander," Johanna said gently, breaking the uncomfortable silence.
"Do you have an ally yet?" Alexander blurted out.
Johanna blushed and smiled at Alexander apologetically, "The point evaluation hasn't even happened yet. We'll have to consult with our team first. Right, Aimé?"
One of the careers, the boy from one, who had a three o'clock shadow and looked too old to should have been able to qualified for the reaping, wandered over from his training station. He was still playing with a butterfly knife, snapping it open and closed and spinning it around his fingers.
"Hey, Humboldt, I watched your brother kill a guy three years ago. Think you got it in you?"
In that moment Aimé realized that the boy from nine didn't. He didn't know how he could tell but just like he was sure Johanna could kill if something depended on it, he also knew Alexander would never. There was a softness about him, shielded poorly by an illusion of composure. Aimé could also tell that the career had come to the same conclusion.
"Hope that you don't find out." Alexander said but it was empty talk and he knew it and so did the career, who grinned and walked back to his station to throw knifes at a target with an ease that made Aimé's skin crawl.
"I'll have to excuse myself. I promised Suzie to teach her how to make fire." Alexander inclined his head slightly towards Johanna and Aimé and wandered off.
"Have you seen the games his brother was in?" Johanna asked quietly as soon as Alexander was out of earshot. Aimé nodded. Compulsory viewing laws didn't give you much of a choice.
"His brother looked just like him." Johanna said but Aimé couldn't remember, the games blended together over the years.
Aimé spent the rest of the afternoon making himself familiar with the cross bows they had at the training range. At first he didn't expect the recoil and it made him stumble much to the amusement of the tributes from two who had probably held their first gun before they had learned how to walk, but after a few times he managed to hit the target dummy in the chest. The bolt went in easy and even though the dummy was just a torso and head, without a face or limbs, Aimé found himself dry heaving in the bathroom.