Chapter Text
The Reaping
Lena Luthor POV
There’s a difference between people who are marked for death and people who die unexpectedly: those who die unexpectedly carry a far heavier burden of never saying all they wanted to say, never having the chance to right their wrongs; those who are marked for death have come to terms with what’s about to happen and the burden then falls on their loved ones who can’t cope with the inevitability. That’s what I learned as I watched my mom going through every document in Lex’s old desk looking for some way to save me before the inevitable occurs.
I’ve never been my mother’s favorite. Hell, I was never really in the running. I knew that. Lex knew that. Anybody who really knew my mother and our unorthodox family knew it too. Lex was hers by birth and he was everything she ever wanted from a child: handsome, charismatic, smart, passionate, and ambitious.
After Lex worked his way up and joined the capital mother had been so proud of him. He’d done it, and coming from District 3 no less. Coming from district 3 is more advantageous than most, but we’re still not at the top of the heap. He was a success story like no other. He’d even met President Non.
Me on the other hand, I was just some orphan child she adopted for appearances and because Lex, for some strange reason, urged her to adopt me. I guess he loved me enough to want to be my brother. I tried to live up to every expectation she had for her children and more, but I was never her favorite.
Maybe now, however, I’m her favorite. Lex is dead after all after the stunt he pulled five months ago.
The press called him a lunatic. Of course they did, he tried to overthrow the government and the press is controlled by the government. I don’t think he was a lunatic. I think he just cracked under the stress and unlimited amount of power he had recently been given. But, what do I know. Maybe he was just a lunatic. He did attempt to overthrow the government and become president himself after all.
It disgusts me. Not the rebellion, but the fact that he had the ability to change so much, whether from the inside through smaller regulations to make society just a little bit better for those not in Districts 1, 2, and 4 or even cause a true rebellion of freedom, but instead he selfishly tried to grab power for himself in the stupidest manner possible.
Now, I pay the price.
Everybody from District 3 knows exactly what’s going to happen tomorrow. There are no odds or chances in my favor. Tomorrow, my name is going to be reaped in retaliation for Lex’s stunt. It’ll send out a message to every potential uprising: You will fail and everyone you love will pay the price.
Maybe it’s justice that I pay for Lex’s crimes. Maybe it’s bullshit that I don’t get to prove myself as my own woman. I don’t know and, frankly, I don’t care anymore. Why should I ponder the possibilities over something inevitable? It will only lead to further resentment.
I’ve accepted what’s going to happen to me tomorrow. I just wish that my mother would too. Instead, she is, looking through Lex’s desk for any possible connection he might have left in the capital to prevent my name from being picked at the reaping tomorrow. Despite disliking me most of her life, she’s fighting for me to stay alive. I think maybe this is her expressing that she loves me, in her own fucked up way. Or maybe she just can’t stand to lose another child the way she lost Lex. Either way, I just wish she’d put down the papers and come over here and hug me, assure me that she loves me and that it’ll be alright, even though we both know that’s bullshit.
I glance down at my arm, tracing my fingers over the familiar section of skin: Kara Zor-El. So this is how I die: without a friend in the world (all abandoned after Lex’s stunt), a soulmate I’ve never met and who will never know me as anything more than the sister of the lunatic who died, rightfully, in the games, and a mother who never loved me much to begin with and who, even in my last hours, refuses to admit she might have ever loved me.
What a life I’ve lived.
Kara Danvers POV
“Kara! Alex! The reaping for District 3 is on,” Eliza Danvers calls out from the living room.
“God, I don’t want to watch another one of these,” sighs Alex heavily. Kara could see the toll it took on her family – on everybody – to watch every year. Just another way to remind the citizens of PanNational how helpless they were. It always hit Alex especially hard since her friend Briana Vasquez was reaped 3 years ago, killed in the top 6. It was the Quarter Quell that year.
“I like to think of it as us making sure people’s names are remembered after they get reaped. It’s up to us to remember their names,” I reply.
“Kara,” she chuckles in a way that lacks any mirth or humor. “That’s a beautiful way to look at it, but let’s be honest. It’s us standing by as we watch others kill each other, just thankful it isn’t us.” With that, she strides past me with her tall, confident strut. The only indication that she was at all affected was the clenching and unclenching of her fists.
I hurriedly run to catch up and take my seat on the couch between her and Eliza as the District 3 announcer, Harrison Wells, begins to speak. “The time has come for us to select one brave young man and woman for the honor of representing District 3 in the 78th Annual Hunger Games.”
Alex’s hand intertwines with mine, although she never looks at me when she does. She just keeps staring head on at the TV, but she knows how important this is to me. This, we found out last year after her brother’s rise to fame, is Lena’s district.
“First, the ladies,” he says. Harrison Wells walks over for what seems like hours, even though I know it’s only seconds, as he picks out a name from the clear, glass bowl.
I shut my eyes tight and send out a prayer into the universe. Please, Rao, do not let him choose Lena Luthor’s name. Let her be safe. Let her be okay. I grip Alex’s hand a little tighter, thankful she’s letting me hold it.
“LENA LUTHOR,” he announces in a loud, booming voice that shatters my entire world. I feel Alex’s hands squeeze mine just a little bit tighter as Eliza’s calming voice coos, “Kara, oh sweetie.”
In that moment, it feels like my soulmate tattoo is on fire. Whether it really is or I’m just imagining it I don’t know but it urges me on to do the thing that has been whispering in the back of my mind ever since I found out Lena’s district.
With sudden speed, I jump off the couch and turn to face Alex and Eliza, my back towards the rest of the reaping happening in District 3. “I’m going to volunteer today,” I announce boldly. My voice sounds confident, just the way I wanted it to and quite the opposite of the way I feel.
“WHAT!” They both yell in shock.
Alex is the first one to recover, immediately responding with a counterattack. “Kara, you can’t. This could completely blow your cover! There are cameras on you all the time. The second you show any sign of being an alien they’ll know!”
“Sweetie, I know this hurts right now but let’s not make any rash decisions,” replies Eliza. She stands up and begins to rub my arm soothingly as if it’ll solve everything.
“I’m not making a rash decision. This has been on my mind for months,” I reply calmly to my mother. “Alex, I’ve lived under the radar my whole life. I haven’t slipped up in years. I can look human. Plus, the fact that I am an alien makes me the most qualified to protect her. Without me, Lena doesn’t stand a chance.”
“Yeah? And what exactly are you planning to do?” If I had a superpower to sense fury, I think I’d be able to visibly see Alex’s. “Only one person comes out of that arena alive! What good does it do Lena if you end up having to kill her?”
I visibly flinch at even the thought of killing Lena. I don’t really know her, but the idea of killing my soulmate is… unimaginable. “I’d be going in there to protect her, not kill her!” I respond in outrage.
“And what about you? If you go in there to save her, you die!” Alex screams, practically at the top of her lungs.
“That is, if you even can die,” says Eliza logically. “They won’t be prepared for your physiological standards. What they throw at you may not kill you and you’d be more likely to end up the survivor of the games with Lena dead.”
“I’m Kryptonian. I’ll pretend to die, get my body taken out of the games, and escape,” I reply.
“Oh, got everything figured out now?” Alex responds haughtily. “Tell me then, what if your little plan to lives goes off without a hitch. They’ll know you’re an alien. Don’t you remember Clark?”
In that moment, I feel utterly too human. As though the Red Sun had disappeared for months and I’d been left powerless. Out of respect, we’ve never said his name except in mourning or remembrance. Now, Alex had just used him as a bullet. “Of course I remember Clark!” I growl. “He meant more to me than he could ever mean to you. He was my cousin! He was the one person on this planet I was sent to protect. I could never forget him! Do not say his name.”
“They found out he was an alien,” Alex continues on despite my threat. “And they nuked all of District 13 just to kill him. Is that what you want to happen? One slip up and that’s what they’ll do!” she yells.
“Kara, this is absurd. Alex is right this doesn't just put you, but countless others at risk!” interrupts Eliza.
“So we sacrifice somebody’s life because they’re less important?” I reply righteously. The two of them don’t respond because yes. The answer is yes. We must admit that even when we fight for good, we are on the side of the morally reprehensible sometimes.
I feel my shoulders cave as I collapse onto the sofa. “Guys, I was sent here to protect Clark and I failed. Now, Lena needs my help. She needs protection and I can give it to her. She is my chance at redemption. She is my chance to protect somebody the fates themselves decreed,” I say, holding up my wrist. “I know it isn’t perfect. And I know it’s risky, but I’ll be careful. I have to do this. I don't think I could live in a world knowing that I had the opportunity to save my soul mate and just let her… die,” my voice goes horse. I can feel the tears threatening to fall. “But I need your guys’ help if I’m going to pull this off.” I look up at the two of them. Eliza’s face is falling apart, the look of a mother watching her child go off to war. It kills me to look at. But Alex’s. Alex’s is even worse because she’s looking at me with a fiery anger. If she doesn’t agree and I do this without her, I’ll have hurt her forever. “Are you with me? I need you to be with me.”
Eliza doesn’t respond. She just stands there, mouth agape and unsure what to do. Alex, on the other hand, stomps away furiously.
***
The reaping is incredibly tense this year. I can see Alex, stony faced and glaring at me every second of the way. I know her. I know what she’ll do if I try to volunteer. She’ll volunteer in my place. I can see it. I have to be faster.
To my left are Lucy and Mike. I can literally see the sweat coming off of Mike. He had to put in his name an extra 15 times for more food rations, keeping his brother’s name in there only once. Lucy, on the other hand, looks calm and focused. I know she’s scared, but being the daughter of a Peacekeeper gives her an advantage in the games and she’s never been one to let her fears get the best of her. If she were chosen, she’d take it in stride.
Cat Grant steps up to the podium, every click of her heels thundering in our ears. I wonder what it must be like, to look down at a crowd and have to spout off some rhetoric about how honorable the games are as every face in the audience looks at you in sheer terror, the both of you knowing every word from your mouth is a lie. I wonder how it must feel to send kids off to their death without a choice.
It must break your heart.
“The time for us has come to select one valiant young man and women for the honor of representing District 12 in the 78th annual The Hunger Games,” she says in an almost bored tone of voice, as if perhaps this is all above her.
“For the girls, the tribute is,” she walks over to the glass bowl filled with names, the obnoxious clacking of her heels probably driving every on-edge potential pick mad. “Iris Allen.”
As soon as her name is called, I yell out, “I volunteer as tribute.”
In my echo, I hear Alex’s voice attempt to say it faster, but she fails.
“Oh,” says Ms. Grant in genuine shock. She looks almost… impressed. “It seems we have a volunteer. Come on up!”
I glance over to Mike and Lucy who are both looking at me in shock and fear. Neither knows I’m an alien. Neither knows I was going to do this. I wonder if they know why I am doing this. Lucy knows who my soulmate is after all. I shoot them a brave, steely smile as I mouth a promise to Winn that Eliza will explain everything.
Eliza is standing off to the side, hand in her mouth and tears in her eyes. She looks… mournful, but not wholly surprised. I think she knew that with or without anybody’s approval this is what I was going to do.
The last person I look to is Alex. What I see scares me more than anything I fear from the arena. It almost scares me as much as the idea of Lena dying on my watch because there’s my older sister – the girl who has always had her life together, always had a plan, even in the face of adversity or fear she put on a brave and confident face – and she’s lost and terrified without a clue what to do.
That strikes the fear of Rao into me. I never lose her eyes, trying to do anything at all to silently reassure her that everything will be alright, as the Peacemakers escort me up to the stage.
“And what is your name?” Ms. Grant asks.
“Kara. Kara Danvers.” My eyes don’t leave Alex’s as I say my name.
“Hmmm,” she looks me up and down with curiosity and a glint in her eyes. “Well, you’re certainly an interesting one.” Almost immediately she turns her attention on the rest of the ceremony as if whatever was interesting about me was of almost no consequence to her.
“And now, for the boys.” She walks over to the glass container filled with boys’ names and picks one out at random. “James Olson.”