archerofdurinsfolk:

Hawke’s outburst struck poor Kili like a physical force. That first explosion had him take a step back, eyes wide with shock in his haggard face. She flew at him, beating at his chest with hands that could have been stingers, for the way they made him jump. “I—-” He tried to speak, to rebut her claims in some way or another, but the words wouldn’t come. “I—-“

What? What could he possibly say to that? She had seen it all, even that which he himself refused to acknowledge, and part of him wanted to cry. He had fought for her, fought long and hard with every vicious little weapon at his disposal… but it hadn’t been enough. And that was the point that she had somehow missed, that he couldn’t articulate: it hadn’t been enough. The evidence was here, right now as she swayed and struggled to remain strong, remain standing after all they had put her through.

They had tried to break her. Again. And he had very nearly let them.

They should not have harmed one hair upon her head.

“Hawke—-” His reaction was pure instinct. Even while his mind still reeled, his body was rushing to her side, moving to catch her before she toppled over once and for all.

She was a warm weight in his arms, trembling until he feared she might shake apart, barely able to stand. In his own weakened state, self-deprived of food and drink and sanity, it was difficult to keep her upright, but support her he did, reassuring platitudes tripping clumsily from his tongue.

When had there ever been a doubt that he would fight for her? Maybe once upon a time he might have been so cold, but the notion felt completely alien now. There was no true choice in it, the alternative to action being to leave her to her fate. He couldn’t do that — and what frightened him the most was that he wasn’t sure why. Her survival, the need for her to remain whole, unharmed, was as integral as that of their Tributes — maybe even more so, much as it shamed him to admit. It mattered to him, as essential and obvious as breathing in and out. Hawke survives. Hawke endures. Somewhere between their fights and quiet moments and that damn piece of red cloth, that had become a fixture, a certainty.

And yet, even as he stood devout in that belief, the other part to it still made him balk. That she in turn might wish to take care of him: someone vicious, angry and unlikeable, who lashed out at her at every turn. The words echoed in his head, mixing with the sound of his heart thundering in his ears, incomprehensible as a foreign language.

Special. To a woman like her.

It was a thousand times worse than owing her a debt, and far more difficult to understand.

I am not worth the ground you walk on. He wanted to say it so desperately, but one look at her face, pale and wracked with pain, was enough to wither the words upon his tongue. His own eyes felt hot and wet, and his throat burned, but he set his jaw and shifted his hold, arms around her waist keeping her upright.

“Come on.” Was what he said instead, his voice hoarse and shaky to his ears. Half supporting, half carrying her, he began the laborious shuffle to her bedroom, holding on tight to keep her from falling. “Come on, you—- you need to lie down. I’ll find Livia—- w-we’ll fix it, just—- just lie down, rest a while.”

Even with his head all in a mess, he could do this, at least.

It’s alright.

I’ve got you.

Hold on.

The words reached Marian in fragments as Kili’s arms encircled her waist, holding her steady while pain lanced her shoulder and robbed her strength. With a light groan, she found his sturdy fingers and covered them with smaller, trembling ones. “Thanks,” she said, determined not to retch, trying to comprehend her own boots zigzagging along next to Kili’s as they propelled her through the hallway to the room the Capitol called hers. “See?” A slight stumble. “I told you we’d–egh–get to dance.”

They squeezed through the threshold of her apartment as one unit, Kili bearing most of her faltering weight. He’d always been strong. Then again, most boys from 7 were, and as he steered her toward the bed Marian found herself thinking of her brother, Carver, piggy-backing her all the way home from Sliver Creek the time she’d broken her ankle. Mother’s subsequent lecture had rang out all the way to District 8, she’d been sure of it.

Suddenly, she had a vague sense of ticking. Like spruce beetles in the pine trees. Big, nasty looking things that bit like something you’d run into in the Arena.

No. Not beetles, loony. High heels. Daffodil yellow ones that could break a baby toe if you weren’t careful. Just ask Prisca.

“Talons!”

Livia swept into the room like a phosphorescent tide. Hawke knuckled the sleeves of Kili’s jacket, quietly pleading him not to correct her.

“Sorry to keep you! Much to do!” Their escort was bubbling. “Oh! Kili, look at you, already here to the rescue. Lay her down there, yes, gently now we just got her back.”

The world shifted again and Livia was fluffing pillows, then yanking off boots. Sometimes Hawke wondered if the host had an extra set of arms under her poofed-out sleeves, the way she seemed to always be fixing ten things at once. “They loved your interview!” Scented palms cupped Marian’s cheeks so hard her lips puckered. “The sponsors are practically frothing! Isn’t that wonderful? Now, Kili be a dear and roll up her sleeve. Arm straight. Perfection.”

There was a familiar pinch, then a rush of warmth, and before Hawke knew it, Livia had swooshed away again, leaving her two ‘sensations’ alone with orders to rest.

Morphling was fast (the kind of instant gratification as only the Capitol could provide) and it wasn’t long before Hawke felt a sort of numb clarity settling over her. Turning to look up at Kili, she pointed hopefully to the in-room monitor. “Can you?”

Just a few hours rest, that’s all she needed. All she could afford. Then she could get back to the observation room. Spend the new donations on bread for Chip and wire for Alder…

She opened her mouth to relay all this to her partner, thought better of it, closed it again. He’d know what to do. “Livia will come for us the second so much as the wind changes,” she said instead, watching him from beneath heavy lids. It was so quiet here with the cannons shut behind a glass screen; stars outside the windows; layers of blankets instead of one that had come down from the sky. She hoped that it was serving Chip well now. “If you want to, stay here.”