HUNGER GAMES AU

[retributivejustice]

( what if frank castle and jessica jones lived in panem? )

Comments

[underachievement]

Shut up. [ He knows she didn't do it out of the kindness of her heart. Her turn to mentor is coming around again this year. Kids from Six rarely stand a chance, even with the sponsorship gifts that become mysteriously more abundant when Jessica Jones is in the Capitol. Their district lacks the resources to imbue them with skills that are both useful and unique, depriving them of the edge tributes from districts like Five and Seven have. At the same time, it's not so destitute that they have to cultivate resourcefulness themselves. ]

[retributivejustice]

Lin's kid is twelve this year. She said she refused any tesserae. The odds...

(He doesn't finish, because no matter what, a lot of kids are going to die this year. He wonders if his kids would have had a better chance if Jessica Jones wasn't their mentor.)

[underachievement]

[ She tries to prepare them. As horribly as it hurts, she always tries. Her sister has even given her tips on media coaching so they know what to say to Flickerman. It's more than they'd get from one of the morphling addicts but it's never enough. So what would be the point in telling anybody? Let the townies assume she's as useless as the rest of them. They're not wrong. ]

Are bullshit. [ Jess burns her tongue with more coffee. ] Trish stopped getting tesserae when she was fifteen. I had twice as many. [ Not that Miss Walker knew that. She wanted her daughter's name in the ball as much as it could be. Once Jessica joined the family, she took her share and her sister's, and they lied to their dear mother about the odds. And it changed absolutely nothing. ]

[retributivejustice]

You said it.

(He sighs and looks down at this styrofoam cup, picking a little at the edge.)

You hungry? We got some instant oatmeal.

[underachievement]

[ She's not, but it might help to have something in her stomach. As long as it stays there. If not, he only has himself to blame for offering. Or Speck can blame him. Whoever has to clean it up. ]

Sure.

[retributivejustice]

(Frank clears his throat and stands up, trying not to grunt. Getting old is a privilege around here.

There's a small kitchenette in the station, and Frank mixes up some dried up flakes (that are supposed to be apple-cinnamon flavored) with some hot water. He moseys on back to the drunk tank, which he didn't even lock. He holds it out to Jess like he's scared of her (because he kind of is))

Don't throw this up on me.

[underachievement]

[ As he goes, she notes that the door is all but left ajar. Somehow, it helps. Her shoulders slump against the corner and she catches a couple winks against the wall. Her senses have been drowned dull such that she becomes aware of his return a scant second or two before he speaks.

Her heavy-lidded eyes open and she takes the bowl with both hands, refusing to sit up. ]

No promises. [ She cradles it in her lap while it cools. ]

[retributivejustice]

What happened, Jess? What made you get all belligerent and such tonight?

(Not as if she does this a lot. Victors have to cope somehow, and he doesn't blame her.

It's strange talking to her, knowing she was the last person to talk to his son and daughter. What are the odds that both your kids are reaped? Well, pretty good.)

[underachievement]

[ The warmth seeps into her hands. It’s so pleasant, she wishes all her other senses would fade out and she could waste away in the moment. Frank calls her back to reality, her vision sharpening on the cement floor.

What did set her off? Oh yeah. ] Someone said some shit about Trish. [ She can’t remember exactly what. Something about how she would do Jessica’s job better. ] I’m so sick of everyone thinking they know everything. [ Here, in the Capitol. There’s nowhere for her to go where she isn’t told who she is. ] Nobody knows a goddamn thing.

[retributivejustice]

(His voice lowers greatly when he goes onto the next part--)

Then let's leave.

[underachievement]

[ She’s lifting the bowl, the spoon in one hand, to have a bite of it, and pauses mid motion. ]

What? [ She heard him. But... What? ]

[retributivejustice]

(He leans in, and it seems this isn't the first time he's considered this.)

I always thought I'd make Speck promise not to tell, and punch him to make it look like he tried to stop me.

(sip of now cold coffee)

Take the SUV, drive towards where 13 used to be.

[underachievement]

[ She’s not imagining things, isn’t dreaming. He’s talking treason. Her heart thuds against her ribs, percussion booming through her head. ]

I can’t leave without my sister. [ The hiss of her whisper shoots sharply back through her throat, into her brain. Jess recognizes the mounting cacophony for what it really is: Panic. ]

[retributivejustice]

Whoa, whoa. We don't have to leave right now.

(Implying that his plan is just changing a little. Not completely, or throwing it out the window.)

[underachievement]

[ Is he also implying that they could take Trish with them? No, it doesn’t matter. She can’t allow herself to think about this or she’ll really do it.

There’s a reason people don’t run off in search of Thirteen every other day. The three of them could survive well enough to make the journey, if they weren’t caught. The Capitol would make sure that they were. A victor trying to escape her district? They’d have to make an example of that.

Jess shakes her head, disgusted with herself. She sets the oatmeal down on the bench, made nauseous by her fear. ]

I can’t. If they catch us — You don’t know what it’s like there. What they’ll do to her.

[retributivejustice]

Okay, okay. Chill out. It's fine. Forget I said anything.

(Nope, Frank, can't put that pringle back in the can.

He stands up and gathers up the cups.)

I'll let you sit.

[underachievement]

[ Jess glares at being told to chill out AKA calm down. No big deal, it’s just treason! She’s far too drunk to empathize with the disappointment he must feel. The oatmeal boal skids along the bench as she shoves it to the opposite end, where he’d just been sitting. Crossing her arms huffily, she slouches against the corner and rests her head to the wall. She’ll fall asleep like that, and the odds are equally good that when she’s roused it will be by a nightmare or a peacekeeper. ]

[retributivejustice]

(Both, perhaps? Frank nudges Jessica's shoulder.)

Hey, wake up. You're havin' a nightmare.

[underachievement]

[ She wakes up violently, swinging blindly in the broad direction of the touch. Jess flails herself off balance and off the bench and braces herself on the wall to keep herself from faceplanting. ]

Jesus — [ Her free hand goes to her head. She can’t tell if her eyes are open or closed, everything is blaring and blurring. Still an improvement from a moment ago. ]

[retributivejustice]

(Frank is like a ballet dancer with how quickly he gets out of the way of her (un)happy ass.)

Hey, you want me to walk you home? Boss says you're free to go.

[underachievement]

[ Words take a longsuffering moment to register as such, first hitting her head as broad, bulky sounds. Something about walking her home. She’d ask what happened to the truck but she’s sure it’s a matter of prevention. Good call: She definitely would throw up in it.

Jess grunts inarticulately as she straightens up. He can work out what it means through elimination. A rejection would sound deeper. She wouldn’t mind sleeping in her own bed and having him with her as a spotter is her best chance of getting to do that. ]

[retributivejustice]

(He keeps his hands to himself, but hovers around her in areas she needs to move away from. Like herding a hungover sheep.

They make it out into the air and Frank finally speaks.)

About what I said last night...

[underachievement]

[ What he said last night... Oh yeah. The treason. ]

Peacekeeper bullshit. Interrogation bullshit. Trying to get me as a traitor on record. [ Jess doesn’t believe any of that, as betrayed by her tone, but it’s a good story for them to get straight, in case they were overheard. She got his kids killed and gets caught up in his professional life. Who wouldn’t buy that he’d conspire against her? ]

What about it?

[retributivejustice]

No-- I was hoping I could trust you not to mention it to anyone. Especially if I come up missing.

(His hands are shoved in his pocket, his voice low and rumbling in his chest. He's soft spoken when he wants to be.)

[underachievement]

[ Maybe it's her hangover speaking but she sort of likes that tone of voice. Hers is a little softer in turn. ]

I won't. [ What's one more secret? She's already protecting him. She protects everyone in this whole damn district whenever she hops on a train and puts on a smile. At least this time, he's aware of it.

Seeing as she doesn't know exactly what he means by "missing" -- of his own volition or disappeared for seditious talk, she mutters, ] I see people, you know. In the Capitol, that had the same idea. They're servants. Workers. Tongues cut out.