@jamiedc-they-them : Could I ask for a tag, please for the part 2 of In Lieu? Glad to hear you like the idea! Thank you fro accepting it!
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In Lieu pt. 2 | Lucy Gray x sibling!reader
Pairing: Lucy Gray Baird x younger sibling reader (platonic/familial)
Type: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Games Trauma, Familial Support
Warnings: PTSD symptoms, nightmares, emotional distress, references to violence in the arena
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The train ride back to District 12 was worse than the ride to the Capitol.
At least before, youβd had hope.
Now you had memories - too many of them.
The Capitol escorts kept trying to talk to you. Asking questions. Congratulating you. Praising your victory.
You smiled when expected, nodded when expected, answered when expected.
It was easy.
Youβd learned how to perform.
That was the worst part, because the cameras loved you, they loved the brave younger sibling who volunteered to protect their older sister, they loved the underdog who somehow survived, they loved the victor.
Nobody cared about the person underneath.
When the train finally pulled into District 12, a smaller crowd had gathered.
Some people were cheering.
Some waving.
Some just standing there watching your every move.
The noise made your skin crawl.
You stepped off the train and nearly froze.
There she was, standing at the front of the crowd.
Lucy Gray.
For a second, everything disappeared.
The cameras.
The noise.
The district.
All you could see was her.
She looked thinner than you remembered, worried, exhausted.
Like sheβd spent every day since the Reaping waiting for terrible news.
Then her eyes met yours and she ran.
Lucy Gray never cared much for appearances. She shoved through people, ignored the reporters shouting questions, and practically threw herself at you.
You caught her automatically.
For one beautiful moment, it felt normal. Familiar. Home.
Then somebody nearby dropped something heavy.
The loud crash echoed through the station and your body reacted before your brain could.
You flinched hard and searched for the source of the noise with your eyes.
Heart racing.
Breathing slightly harder.
Silence followed - confused silence.
The kind that only made you realize what youβd done.
Slowly, you lowered your tense shoulders while Lucy was staring at you.
Not scared, more heartbroken.
You forced a laugh βguess Iβm still a little jumpy.β To which she smiled.
But it wasnβt real.
Neither of you mentioned it again.
The first week home was exhausting.
Everyone from Capitol wanted something.
Interviews.
Parties.
Meetings.
Stories.
And like the golden survivor you gave them exactly what they wanted.
The charming victor.
The survivor.
The brave younger sibling.
The favourite killer.
And every night afterward, you returned home and pretended everything was fine. Mostly for Lucy.
You had an approximate idea what sheβd gone through while you were gone. The fear, the waiting, the helplessness.
You didnβt want her worrying anymore.
So you smiled, you laughed, you told jokes.
You acted like the same person whoβd left.
And you got pretty good at it and suprisingly enough everyone believed you.
Except Lucy.
She noticed everything. The way you sat facing doors, the way your eyes tracked movement automatically, the way you stopped eating halfway through meals, the way you jumped whenever someone touched you unexpectedly, the nightmares.
Especially the nightmares.
The first time it happened, she woke to your scream.
Not a yell.
Not a cry.
A scream.
The kind of sound people make when they genuinely believe theyβre dying.
Lucy shot upright in bed.
βKid?β
No response.
She hurried into your room.
You were sat upright awake unresponsive and terrified.
Tangled in blankets.
Lucy felt her stomach drop. You looked so small, scared, young.
She carefully sat beside you.
βHey, sugar.β
Nothing.
Your mind was trapped somewhere else.
βKid.β
Your didnβt react one bit.
Lucy reached out and then hesitated.
She remembered what trauma could do, how sudden touch could make things worse.
So instead, after a few minutes of silence she started humming.
Softly.
Quiet enough that only the two of you could hear.
An old Covey song, the one sheβd sung for years when you were little, when storms scared you, when nightmares found you before.
Eventually, with time your breathing slowed, the tension eased, but your body refused to stay still and shook slightly.
Lucy remained there long after she helped you settle back down.
Watching.
Listening.
Making sure you were truly asleep.
Only then did she cry.
A few days later, she found you sitting outside behind the house.
The sun was setting, orange and gold light stretched across the hills.
You were staring into the distance lost somewhere.
βMind if I join ya?β she asked.
You just simply shrugged.
Lucy sat beside you and for a while, neither of you spoke.
Then she quietly asked:
βHow bad was it?β
Your shoulders immediately tensed.
βIβm fine.β
She sighed.
βSweetheart.β
βIβm okay.β
Lucy looked at you - at the dark circles beneath your eyes, the weight youβd lost, the way your hands trembled.
βYou donβt gotta do this with me.β
You frowned. βDo what?β
βPretend.β
The word hit harder than you expected. You looked away.
Lucy continued softly. βYouβve been smiling for everybody else.β Her voice shook slighlty.
βBut you donβt gotta smile for me.β
Silence settled between you two, the wind rustled through the grass, a bird sang somewhere nearby and you were so tired.
So unbelievably tired.
Of pretending.
Of performing.
Of acting normal.
Your eyes slowly burned. βI killed people.β The words came out muttered barely above a whisper.
Lucy didnβt react.
Didnβt flinch.
Didnβt look away.
So slowly you kept going. βI can still hear them sometimes.β
Lucy slowly reached over, but slowly enough giving you time to pull away.
You didnβt so her hand found yours.
Warm.
Steady.
Real.
βI know.β
That broke you.
Not pity.
Not shock.
Just understanding.
You started crying quietly. Then harder. Months of fear and grief and guilt finally spilling out.
Without a hesitation Lucy carefully pulled you into her arms immediately like sheβd been waiting for permission.
βSugarβ¦β her own voice shook. βYou donβt gotta carry this by yourself.β
You just buried your face against her shoulder.
βIt hurtsβ the confession hurt more than anything. βI donβt like who I am.β
Lucy held you tighter. βNo.β
You froze.
She gently brushed a hand through your hair. βNo, you donβt.β
The honesty surprised you.
βYou survived somethinβ terrible.β Her voice was soft. βYou changed.β
You swallowed hard.
βThen why do you still look at me the same?β
Lucy pulled back enough to look at your face, her eyes were wet too. βBecause youβre still my sibling.β
The answer came without hesitation, without doubt, without conditions.
βYou ainβt the same person who got on that train.β A tear slid down her cheek. βBut that doesnβt mean I donβt care about you anymore.β
Her forehead rested against yours. βAnd Iβll love every version of you that comes home.β
For the first time since the Games ended, the knot in your chest loosened.
Only a little.
But it was enough to breathe.
And as Lucy wrapped her arms around you again, holding you through the sunset, you let yourself use her as an anchor for the moment.










