Chapter 1: The Morning After

Hank Voight

The hospital chair had molded to my spine— hard plastic, cold metal, and the kind of ache that settles deep. I had slept in worse places. Abandoned cars, stakeout vans, the floor of my office. But this was different. This was not sleep. It was a vigil.

Sofia lay still in the bed, her face a bruised map of what they had done to her. One eye was swollen shut, stitches like seams across her temple. Her leg was suspended in a cage of metal and bandages. But she was breathing. The machine was not doing it for her anymore. She was doing it herself.

Small victories.

The sun was starting to bleed through the blinds, striping the floor in pale gold. Night shift had melted into day shift. Nurses moved in soft-soled silence, checking monitors, adjusting drips. One of them— Linda, her badge said— gave me a nod. No smile. Just understanding. She had brought me coffee at three in the morning without asking. I had drunk it without tasting it.

Now, in the weak morning light, I could see the details I had missed in the dark. The way her right hand was bandaged around the wrist, but her fingers were loose. The way her left thumb kept drifting toward her mouth, even in sleep, like it was seeking an old friend. A habit she had fought in the bullpen, a secret she had tried to keep. Now, in this sterile room, it was just… her. No masks. No armor.

My girl.

The door pushed open quietly. Kim stood there, holding two paper cups. She looked tired, but her eyes were clear. She had been here most of the night, too. We all had.

“She wake up at all?” she whispered, handing me one of the cups.

I shook my head. “Mumbled in her sleep. Called for her dad once. Then for me.”

Kim’s face softened. She moved to the other side of the bed, brushing a strand of hair from Sofia’s forehead. “Hey, sweetie,” she murmured, like Sofia could hear. “It is morning. You made it through the night.”

We stood there for a minute, two sentinels in a too-quiet room. The machines beeped. The city outside began to stir.

“They are bringing in a specialist today,” Kim said after a while. “For the leg. And a therapist. The kind who deals with… this.”

I nodded. I knew what “this” meant. The bruises would fade. The bones would knit. But the other wounds— the ones you could not see on an X-ray— those were the ones that scared me.

“She is strong,” I said, more to myself than to Kim.

“She is,” Kim agreed. “But she should not have to be this strong.”

The door opened again, and Jay slipped in. He looked like he had come straight from the district— same clothes as yesterday, shadow of stubble, eyes sharp. He glanced at Sofia, then at me.

“Cullen’s sister talked,” he said, voice low. “Gave us a name. Driver who moved her from the farmhouse. We are closing in.”

A cold, clean focus cut through the fog in my head. “Where?”

“South Side. Abandoned auto shop. Torres and Ruzek are setting up surveillance. We move when you say.”

I looked back at Sofia. Her chest rose and fell. Her thumb rested against her lip. She looked small. Breakable. She was neither of those things, but right now, she needed to be protected. And I knew, with a certainty that felt like stone in my gut, that the best way to protect her was to remove the threat. Permanently.

“Tell them to hold,” I said. “I want eyes on every exit. I want to know who is inside. I do not want this guy slipping away because we got impatient.”

Jay nodded. “We will be ready.”

He lingered for a moment, his gaze on Sofia. Something shifted in his expression— something protective, brotherly. He reached out and lightly touched her blanket-covered foot. “Hang in there, Sof ” he whispered, then left as quietly as he had come.

Kim watched him go, then looked at me. “You are going after them.”

“Yes.”

“And when you find them?”

I did not answer. She knew. We all knew. Some lines, once crossed, did not allow for U-turns.

She sighed, but it was not judgment. It was resignation. “Just… come back. She is going to need you. More than ever.”

I knew that, too. It was the only thing holding the rage on a leash.

Sofia stirred then— a soft sigh, a slight turn of her head. Her one good eye fluttered open. It took a second for her to focus, to find me in the hazy morning light.

“Hank...?” Her voice was a rasp, thin as paper.

“Right here, kid.” I moved closer, my chair scraping softly.

She blinked slowly, confusion clouding her gaze. Then memory seeped in. I saw it— the flicker of fear, the shadow of pain. Her breath hitched.

“You are safe,” I said, my voice low and steady. “You are at Med. Kim is here. Everyone is outside.”

Her eye moved to Kim, who gave her a gentle smile. “Hey, Sofia. You are doing great.”

Sofia’s thumb found its way to her mouth. She did not try to hide it. She just closed her eyes for a second, breathing around it. When she opened them again, there were tears.

“It… hurts,” she whispered.

“I know,” I said. “The nurse is coming soon. She will give you something to help with the pain.”

She nodded faintly, then her gaze drifted to the window, to the slice of morning sky. “They left me,” she said, so quiet I almost missed it.

My jaw tightened. “They will not get the chance to do it again.”

She looked back at me, her eye searching mine. She saw the promise there— the dark, unwavering vow. For a second, she looked like that little girl on the bench outside the district, scared and trying to be brave.

“Do not go far,” she whispered.

I reached out, covering her bandaged hand with mine. “I am not going anywhere, Sofia. Not really.”

And I meant it. Even when I walked out of that room, even when I hunted, even when I did what needed to be done— part of me would stay right here. In this chair. Holding her hand.

Because she was not just my rookie. She was not just Jacob’s daughter.

She was mine.

And I would burn down the whole city to keep her safe.

___

A whimper escaped her lips, quickly choked to a sob. A baby.

Her whole body trembled under the thin hospital blanket. Not from cold— from memory. Her thumb pressed harder against her mouth, the knuckle white.

Kim moved first, instinctual, maternal. She leaned over the rail, her voice dropping into a soothing, gentle register Sofia had not heard from her in years— not since she was ten and scared of her foster parents at the time.

“Shhh, sweet girl. It is okay. You are safe. No one is gonna hurt you here. We got you.”

The words were a soft blanket of sound. Sofia’s one visible eye, wide and wet, darted to Kim’s face, then back to mine, searching for confirmation.

I gave it to her with a slow, firm nod. “She is right. You are surrounded by steel and badges. Nothing gets through.” My thumb stroked the back of her hand, a rough, steady rhythm. “Breathe, Sofia. Just breathe with me.”

Her chest hitched, trying to match the slow, deliberate pace I set. In… hold… out. Her gaze clung to mine, a lifeline in a stormy sea of flashbacks. The smell of damp earth and diesel. The cold metal of a van floor. The laugh— Cullen’s laugh— too close to her ear.

Another sob, this one deeper, torn from a place of sheer, unvarnished terror. The kind a child feels in the dark.

“I w-want…” she started, then shook her head, ashamed.

“What do you want, baby?” Kim asked, her hand now gently carding through Sofia’s hair, avoiding the stitched wounds. “Anything. You just say it.”

Sofia’s voice was a tiny, broken thing, muffled by her thumb. “Bear…”

Kim’s eyes flicked to mine. The old teddy bear. The one from my desk, Justin’s bear. The one Sofia had reached for on her first day, her eyes lighting up like a kid at Christmas.

“It is at the district,” I said, but I was already reaching for my phone with my free hand. My other remained anchored to hers. I typed a one-handed text to Trudy, blunt and to the point.

Voight: Need the bear from my desk. Med. Now.

The reply was almost instantaneous.

Platt: Already in my bag. On my way up.

Of course she was. Trudy saw everything, anticipated the rest.

Sofia’s crying had quieted to shaky, wet breaths. The panic was receding, leaving exhaustion in its wake. But the childlike fear in her eye remained. The regression was not a choice now; it was a refuge. A place to hide from the pain that was too adult, too violent to process.

“She is coming, sweetheart,” Kim murmured. “Trudy is bringing your bear. You just hold on.”

The door whispered open, and Trudy entered, her usual stern expression softened into something grave and tender. She did not speak. Just walked to the bedside, pulled the worn, slightly frayed brown teddy bear from her oversized purse, and carefully tucked it into the crook of Sofia’s arm, against the IV lines.

Sofia’s fingers, clumsy with bandages, immediately curled into the familiar fur. She pulled it close, burying her nose against its head. A long, shuddering sigh escaped her, and her body went limp, the last of the tension bleeding away. Her thumb stayed in her mouth, but now it was a comfort, not a shield.

She looked, for all the world, like a little girl who would had a nightmare and been given her most prized possession.

Trudy’s gaze met mine over the bed. Her eyes were hard, but not at me. At the world. At the men who did this. She gave a single, sharp nod.

The hunt is on, that nod said. Finish it.

I nodded back.

Sofia’s eye drifted closed, the bear held fast. Her breathing evened out, syncing with the gentle beep of the heart monitor. Asleep. Truly asleep, not just sedated.

Safe.

For now.

Kim straightened up, brushing a tear from her own cheek with a quick, annoyed swipe. “I will stay,” she said. “You go do what you need to do.”

I stood, my bones protesting. I looked down at Sofia— at the bruise spreading across her cheekbone, at the bear clutched in her arms, at the profound vulnerability she no longer had the strength to hide.

The cold fire in my chest burned hotter, cleaner.

I leaned down, my lips near her ear, my voice a low, private vow only she could hear in her dreams.

“Sleep, little angel. Daddy is going to make the bad men go away.”

I kissed her forehead, gentle as I had ever been, and turned toward the door.

The hospital room was a sanctuary.

The city outside was not.

It was time to go to work.

___

It was just so frustrating! Everything was always dumped onto him, the trauma, the unbearable and out of control emotions seemed to be eating him up from the inside- almost like he was drowning and no one was there to fully understand and help him. It seemed as though no matter how hard he tried to reach out no one knew how to help. Being dumped with so much trauma at a young age took a really bad toll on his body and mind. He just really wanted to clear his head at this point- since Connie was busy with her studies, his dad was busy and the gems were busy with other gems.

He should take a walk on the broadwalk or whatever, he could maybe get a bite to eat or see if anyone was around to chat or maybe hang out with him to just distract him and kill time. Maybe he could go to Funland and at least he could try to experience some sort of feeling.

Gosh! It just seemed SO- empty with no one he knew that was around anymore! It was so weird to see everyone grow apart and he- he was practically trying to rip his hair out of his scalp.

" Hey! (Child name 1) do not hit your brother! "

That's when he heard someone's voice yelling at something and he couldn't help but look up to see you. You were seated on one of the benches looking towards the ocean, your sun hat protecting you from the heat while your sunglasses rested on top of the hat/you had your glasses on your face. You seemed to have a magazine or book on your lap, too many bags to count on your side with one filled with toys and one filled with snacks and water bottles and juices.

Steven had never seen you around before in beach city ever before- you were probably a tourist or you had recently moved in. He couldn't help but wonder if his mother would have done the same, if she would have taken him to the beach with his dad and watch him play in the sand, would he have a younger brother or sister? Would things have been easier for him?

Just the thoughts swirling around in his mind made him flare in anger, his gem buzzed as his body contorted and he started glowing pink. He could feel his head pounding in his ears, it hurt -- why couldn't things just have turned differently? Why couldn't he just have something better?! Why couldn't everyone stay and why--

" Hey kid! "

Steven looked up, his eyes darting around until his eyes finally landed on you. You were waving at him, beckoning him to come over and to which he did. He couldn't help but be rather embarrassed- he didn't want his first impression to be you meeting him having a meltdown.

" You okay? You seemed to be pink- and I mean you are literally pink right now. "

You had pointed out, your body faced towards him.

" I have some headache pills, don't know if they'll work on people turning pink though. "

Steven looked at you laughing at your own joke and he couldn't help but smile a bit to try and ease the tension. The pink glow seemed to fade away as he relaxed, he could seriously use that pill though, his head was basically killing him.

" I wouldn't mind it- if you have one and if I'm not going to waste it y'know? "

He couldn't help but ramble on, he was just rather nervous as he basked in your motherly aura. It felt so nice he just couldn't help but panic.

He watched you pull out your hand bag/back pack (idk) as you fished out that tinfoil pill holder thing?? Y'know and popped two out, - you held your hand out and he took it slowly, almost like he was scared of touching you.

" I don't bite, it's okay. Would you like water or juice with that? "

" Water will be fine, thank you.. "

Steven took the water bottle from you and he popped the medicine in his mouth and drank that water up.

" It's (y/n), nice to meet you Steven Universe. "

" You know my name? "

Steven couldn't help but stare at you in some sort of shock and confusion.

" Yeah I did my research before coming here, I heard all about you and there was some strange blog called "Keep Beach City weird" it was a real good read. "

So you were just a tourist, maybe you were on holiday or something and just chose Beach City at the worst possible time ever.

" So, where do you come from? "

He couldn't help but ask, he just seemed so intrigued with you. You went out of your way to help him.

" Oh I'm from state/overseas country, just out for a holiday. Needed to get away from the same routine and get out, showing the kids other places. "

You told him more about where you came from, he relaxed at the sound of your voice and the way you explained things with your hands to add more to your stories.

" Hey- sorry Steven-- (child name 2) stop chasing your older sister with the dead crab, do not make me come over there! "

You shouted at your kids and you were correct, it seemed the younger brother was chasing around their older sibling with what seemed like a dead crab, causing them to cry and squeal for them to stop.

" Sorry Steven, kids are a lot and they always have to get on each other's nerves. "

You replied and Steven just laughed nervously, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of sadness when he saw the relationship between you and your kids.. What he would do to have just a moment like this with his mom to at least feel something like this.

" I know I shouldn't pry into anyone's business, but are you okay? "

Your voice snapped him out of his trance and he looked into your eyes.

" It's just-- really complicated at the moment. "

" You can always talk to me, I know nothing about your situation but it'll help to get it off your chest. It's not really good to bottle up your emotions. "

And that's when he just let everything out, he went on and on about every detail, every mission, every horrific thing and every good and bad memory and you listened to him.

He finished after finally catching you up on everything and he felt you holding his hand, he looked up into your eyes once more and he just froze.

" Listen Steven, Im sorry about what happened and no child should have gone through that. You've always been helping other people and putting yourself at risk but- when was the last time you did something for you-- yourself? Why don't you maybe just get away from everything and clear your head a bit? That's why we're here in the first place. "

Steven couldn't help but nod at your words, he had no words as your thumb stroked the top of his hand in a comforting way.

" Have you ever been to a therapist or someone you can talk to? I'd definitely recommend seeing someone to at least get a lot of things off your chest and they can maybe help with some coping skills for you, I know a few how could help. "

It felt like a rush of regret, maybe telling you wasn't the best idea- the thought of seeing a doctor again sort of terrified him after what happened with Connie's mom.

" You don't have to if you don't want to--! "

Steven watched you blurt out, you were really good at reading him but he just stayed silent and watched the waves crash against the sand, your kids building lopsided sandcastles and digging holes.

It was strange.

You let go of his hand and whisked out your phone, scrolling away until you turned to him.

" I'll be one call away if you ever need help with anything. "

Steven entered his number and watched as you smiled, it was strange how you two easily got along.

" I should probably get going. It was nice to meet you (y/n) and I'll definitely think about that call, alright? "

Steven laughed nervously and stood up, holding his hand out for a handshake but you pulled him into a quick embrace and sent him off.

Steven continued his walk, walking around town replaying that whole interaction over and over again. It was awfully strange to him that a complete stranger wanted to help him out that much, was he also like that when he was younger?

It was nice though.

Back then, no one would really notice his absence unless he had had a collab planned. He usually had enough foresight to notify his friends if he wasn't going to be able to show up, so that didn't make much of a difference either. Telling people you had been a little ill usually satisfied them enough to not poke further if you looked well enough by then.

Hermitcraft, as it turns out, is a little different. Grian fell ill after only four weeks on the server, suddenly having been in contact with a lot more people than usual. He didn't think much of it, considering he didn't have anything planned with the others anyway. So he just stayed in his bed, mostly just staring at the ceiling or sleeping, waiting for the fever and pain to pass.

He quickly found out, however, that the Hermits didn't work like that. Within the second day of him being "missing", they begun to worry. On the third day, Mumbo decided to go looking for him, deciding that Grian likely wouldn't be so engrossed in his work for THAT long. Usually, he would at least read the messages sent to him, even if he didn't reply. He found his base easily and dove into the water to check on his friend.

He found the unconscious man lying in his bed, pale as a ghost, hot to the touch and clearly uncomfortable. He freaked out, immediately calling in X to help, as he trusted him a lot more than he did himself. The admin gladly helped him look after his friend and made a mental note to ask Grian why he hadn't asked for help with the state he was in when they found him. The hermits did already have healing potions by now.

When Mumbo first placed a wet rag on Grians head to lessen the fever he was sporting, he startled awake, confused as to why there were multiple people in his room. He tried to convince them that he was fine and didn't need assistance, but did eventually cave and let them help him. He wouldn't admit it, but it was nice being taken care of for once. It certainly made him feel a lot less miserable during his recovery.

When he managed to convince his friends that he was well enough to get back to work, X requested that he come visit his base before he started work again. "Just want to have a quick chat about something," he had said. He would be lying if he said that it didn't make him feel nervous. His mind was racing to try and figure out what might be wrong. Was he mad? Had he done something? Was he in danger somehow? It couldn't be anything good. Talks like that never were.

He gathered his courage and followed his admin without voicing his concerns. Might as well get it over with. Also, he was afraid he'd try to dip out due to the anxiety if he didn't force himself to do this right away. He was led into the little kitchen in Xisumas starter base, where the admin made them both tea and offered him biscuits that looked homemade. It didn't manage to calm him down completely, but the calm vibes of X and his cute little kitchen certainly did help.

And then it was time to talk. X looked serious, but his eyes were kind. There was, however, worry barely hidden behind his gaze.

"Are you ok? You seem nervous."

Grian nodded and made a quiet sound of affirmation, avoiding looking at the admin at all costs.

He decided to let it go. "Alright. I invited you here to talk about your behaviour."

Grian looked up at that, confusion and anxiety lacing his face. "What?" His voice was quiet and unsure. It made Xisumas heart ache.

"It's nothing bad! We're just worried about you and want to make sure that you know that you can reach out for help when you need it. All the Hermits are always willing and gald to help. You don't need to do everything alone, yknow?" X took a breath, realising that he had been rambling without taking any time to breathe.

Grian was looking at X, hus face not portraying any particular emotion. A quiet "Oh" was all that he managed to say.

"Sorry. Got a bit rambly there." X chucked quietly, rubbing the back of his head. He hadn't meant to talk so fast but Grians anxiety had made him anxious as well. "Just. When you're ill or injured or just need company. We will always be there for you, okay?"

"Yeah." Grian was nodding, finally having understood why he was here. "Sorry about not asking for help. I kinda forgot that was an option.." Now it was his turn to scratch his head and chuckle awkwardly.

X looked concerned: "Wha.."

"It's not you." He interrupted X quickly, sensing what he was thinking. "I've been living alone for so long I just... forgot, I guess? Just got used to having to tend to myself alone." He gave a small smile and a shrug, hoping to convey that this wasn't a big deal.

"Oh." X looked thoughtful, as if searching his memory for something. He shook his head lightly and smiled, saying, "That makes sense, then. I was worried you didn't think we would be willing to. Just know that we would love to help, yeah?"

"Yeah." He nodded and was a bit surprised at himself, as he had not expected to trust these people so quickly. But everyone here was so sweet and considerate that he somehow didn't doubt it for a second. It would take some getting used to, but he was willing to try.

Both the men felt relieved. They fell into a comfortable quietness, both sipping at their tea occasionally. Eventually Grian remembered that he had actually meant to ask X about a couple things he had noticed, so they chattered on about random observations and funny stories for a while after both of their mugs had been emptied.

                                                   Vexing Hexes

The Graveyard Shift was starting to quieten down. The customers leaving in dribs and drabs until only Klara and her new friends were left. Nik was alone at one end of the bar, nursing a drink, while Ivy and Krom sat together a few seats away. Garrus bustled around them all, cleaning up the now empty tables.

Klara was in a booth on the opposite side of the bar. Just moments before, it had been filled with laughter and conversation from a group of girls out for a night on the town. Klara had noticed them the moment they arrived. Their brashness and carefree attitude drawing her in as they moved confidentially into the bar.

Approaching the table, the round of shots she’d offered had earned her a place in their group. She’d hoped to get lost in their party atmosphere. To pretend there wasn’t a cursed entity out to kill her. That ghosts and goblins and whatever else weren’t real. That she was normal. And it had worked, for a while. Their fast-paced banter and acceptance grounding Klara, allowing her to stay in the moment with them. Until they left, Leaving Klara in a bar with a nighthunter, an undead goth, a member of the fae and a troll.

It was like the beginning of a bad joke, she thought mirthlessly. Knocking back the last of her drink, Klara sets the empty tumbler on the table, wincing at the loud bang. Looking up, she can see Krom and Ivy glance over at her and feels her gut clench uncomfortably. She has nothing against them – quite the opposite, in fact – but they were a visual reminder of her recent upheaval. As he meets her eyes, Krom turns away, but Ivy smiles at her, beckoning her over.

Klara hesitates, her eyes briefly sweeping over the empty seats around her. Shaking her head, she hauls herself up from her seat, only to trip over the table leg. She only just catches herself – her hand gripping a nearby chair as her vision swims in front of her. Maybe that last round was a mistake, Klara thinks, smiling wryly even as she feels her ears grow hot. Fidgeting, she straightens her clothes, running her suddenly sweaty hands over the thighs of her jeans before she feels steady enough to move.

Thankfully, she makes it to the bar without further incident and falls into the seat beside Ivy. There’s a sudden silence and a shifting in seats as she sits, an atmosphere that speaks of a swift end to a conversation that Klara hopes was not about her. Feeling hot, Klara clenches her hands against her legs. She doesn’t think she could take anyone asking after her right now. Quickly, before Ivy can ask how she’s feeling, Klara spits out the first thing that comes to her.

“If you were going to curse someone, what would you curse them with? Not a big curse. It would be more of a mild inconvenience. Like…” casting her eyes around the room, Klara snorts as sees the booth she’s just came from. “Always tripping over when you stand up!”

She knows she’s rambling; and worse yet, slurring her words. Knows it’s probably inappropriate to discuss curses with someone who gave up most of her life to save the world only to end up ‘undead’. It’s why she can’t quite meet Ivy’s eyes and faces the bar instead.

Thankfully, Ivy doesn’t take offence. When she laughs, Klara’s head snaps up to look at her, a small smile on her face. “That’s a hard one,” Ivy muses. “What do you think?” She asks Krom, her purple eyes shining with amusement.

Krom tilts his head, his gaze moving from Ivy to Klara as he mulls it over. “What if, their hands were always sticky?”

“Hand sanitizer would fix that!” Garrus interjects, winking at Krom. “What about this: they always take the wrong information down. Phone numbers, orders…that type of thing. No matter how much they check and double-check, it’s always just a little wrong.”

“Oooh, that’s evil!” Klara crows, delightedly. Garrus grins at her, clearly pleased.

“Getting an itch, just when you get comfortable,” Ivy adds, her head nodding in emphasis. “I used to hate that.”

“Road works or a flat tire whenever you really need to be somewhere,” Klara suggests, laughing.

“Or the bus or train breaking down if you don’t drive,” Krom adds, smiling.

“And it’s raining!” Garrus calls out.

“What about,” Nik declares loudly. “What about, an eye floater that never goes away.”

“They’d always be twitching,” Klara says, her tone thoughtful.

Titling his glass in her direction, Nik grins, crookedly. “Exactly, rookie.”

“Hmm,” Ivy muses. “People always mistaking them for someone else, but not in a good way.”

“Or mistaking other people for someone they know. They’d always end up being embarrassed.” Krom adds.

“Oh, I know!” Klara exclaims, almost bouncing in her seat in excitement. “No matter how much you straighten your hair; it’s always frizzy!” Sitting back, she grins at all of them, clearly pleased with herself, until a small frown creases her forehead. “And vice-versa, of course.”

Laughing, Ivy raises an eyebrow at Klara. “That’s your ultimate mild inconvenience?”

“You have to admit it’s frustrating?” Klara defends, and she can’t help but run a hand through her hair distractedly.

“Yeah, I go through that every day.” Nik deadpans.

“We can tell,” Garrus says, looking pointedly at Nik’s hair. Nik merely rolls his eyes, refusing to take the bait.

“These curses,” Nik starts, turning to Klara. “Are they petty on principle?”

Opening her eyes wide, Klara gasps. “You think our ideas are petty?” She asks, using her hand to cover her mouth with an audible slap. At seeing Nik’s shocked expression, Klara has to bite her lip to stop herself from laughing. Not being much of an actress. However, the look of shock is short-lived, quickly turning into a scowl.

Grinning cheekily, Klara winks at him. “Less petty, more of a vexing hex.” Klara giggles at this, delighted at her attempt at a pun.

“A vexing hex?” Nik repeats. His jaw works a moment as if sounding the phrase out. “You drunk, rook?”

Taken aback, Klara momentarily tries to catalogue what she’s drunk, quickly losing count. The group of girls she had sat with were big on shots, she knows that much.

Seeing her confusion, Garrus smirks at her. “I’d be surprised if you weren’t. Your friends seemed to be making their way through the drinks menu.”

“Eh,” Klara shrugs. Placing her hands on the bar, she pushes herself to her feet. Or at least, tries to. The sudden motion makes her stagger, her hip banging against her stool, making it rattle against the floor. Looking up to see the others staring, Klara’s hands twitch at her side as she fights the urge to bury her face in her hands. “Ok, maybe I’m a little drunk.” She concedes, her ears burning once more, and she knows her face has gone blotchy in embarrassment.

Ivy smiles at her reassuringly while Garrus chuckles. Hearing a snort, Klara glances at Nik to see him shaking his head. Downing the last of his drink, he stands up. “It’s getting late,” Nik states, beckoning for Klara to follow him.

He doesn’t even look, just expects her to follow. Feeling her mouth go dry, Klara scowls. Was she at his beck and call now? They’d only just met. He had no right to tell her what to do. She wasn’t the one who hired him, after all. If that story was even true.

“It’s not that late,” Klara challenges. Wincing as her words come out more petulant than she’d hoped for.

Nik raises his eyebrow, his lip twitching into a small smirk, and Klara can hear a rushing in her ears as her pulse races. Is she a joke to him? She thinks. Her fists clenching at her sides as she envisions slapping the smirk from his face.

It’s then Klara notices that Ivy, Krom and Garrus have averted their eyes, busying themselves with other things and avoiding her gaze. Relaxing her hands, Klara sighs as she runs a hand over her face, her anger quickly fading. She can’t remember the last time she felt so worn out. Looking up at Nik, she sees him watching her, his face unreadable. “You’re right,” she says, smiling ruefully. “It is late.”

Face still passive, Nik holds his hand out to her once more, watching her carefully. ‘C’mon, rook.” His tone is almost pleading, and it makes Klara’s decision for her.

Walking towards him, Klara stumbles a little; her ankle turning over and sending her lurching to one side. She’s stopped from falling by Krom’s quick reflexes as he grabs her arm. He holds onto her, making sure she has her footing before letting go.

She can barely meet Krom’s eyes as she stutters through her ‘thank you,’ and it amazes her that she can go from never wanting to leave the bar from wanting the whole building to disappear around her in such a short space of time.

Ducking her head, Klara watches her feet in concentration as she closes the distance between herself and Nik, each step feeling like she’s wading through mud. Thankfully, she makes it there without further incident, Nik’s calloused hand coming up to clasp her arm tightly.

Klara tenses momentarily but relaxes as Nik squeezes her arm in reassurance. She murmurs her goodbyes as Nik calls out his goodnights, and then they’re heading out, Nik leading her gently beside him, keeping her steady and upright. With his guidance, Klara’s steps feel a little less cumbersome, but she still stumbles as they come to the stairs, her toes jarring painfully as they hit the riser, forcing her to lurch forward.

How many times can I trip in one night? Klara thinks, as Nik’s arm snakes, it’s way around her waist to pull her close. She allows herself to lean against him, her head on his shoulder as he hauls them up the rest of the stairs. Her eyes start to close half-way up, their heaviness getting harder to fight as everything seems to blur around her.

They come to a halt in front of the door to Nik’s apartment, and Klara can hear Nik curse under his breath as he struggles to get the keys and open the door. Taking in a breath through her nose, Klara hums a little as she lifts her head. “Do you need a hand?” It comes out mumbled, masked heavily with sleep and Klara clears her throat to try again.

Nik chuckles dryly, his arm tightening against her. “I think I’ve got it.”

Humming happily as the door opens, Klara settles back against Nik, her hand coming up to grasp at his jacket as she nuzzles into his neck.

“Klara!” Strangely, Nik’s voice comes out strangled, and Klara’s head snaps up, her eyes wide as she scans the room.

“What’s wrong?” Klara asks as she turns from the empty room to face Nik.

His eyes are on her, his gaze travelling over her face, searching…but for what? The thought makes Klara frown as her mind races, struggling to clear the drunken fog that’s settled over her. They’re close, close enough for Klara to smell the alcohol on his breath and as the moment drags on, it builds with an intensity that Klara knows is important but can’t quite grasp.

“Nothin’,” he smiles, breaking eye contact with a small sigh. “It doesn’t matter.”

Although she smiles back, Klara feels a sense of loss fill her. Her confusion making her hold tighten on Nik’s jacket.

“You can have the bed,” he announces, smiling crookedly at her. “The couch ain’t good to wake up on if you have a hangover.”

Klara opens her mouth to argue, but the thought of sleeping in an actual bed, with a mattress and pillows soon takes its hold, stilling her tongue. “You sure?” She asks.

Raising an eyebrow, Nik chuckles as he guides her into the bedroom, squeezing her waist once more. “What kinda gentleman would I be if I let you sleep on the couch…again.”

Klara merely snorts, allowing herself to be led through the apartment as her mind focuses on thoughts of sheets and covers and sweet, sweet sleep. When they get to the bedroom, Klara detaches herself from Nik to throw herself onto the bed, snuggling into the pillow and groaning in delight.

“Dammit, Klara. At least take your boots off!”

Klara hears Nik’s scolding, but it sounds too far away to bother with, so she turns her face further into the pillow, hoping to block him out completely. Her breathing soon evens out, and she can feel herself tottering on the edge of sleep. When she feels the bed dipping, she thinks it’s the effects of the alcohol, making the room feel spinny and out of place. But dizziness doesn’t usually take the boots off her feet, handling her legs with care and placing them back on the bed. It doesn’t normally brush the hair tenderly from her face and cover her with a spare blanket before placing a warm kiss on her forehead.

I can’t do this anymore. I’ve no one left, except Greasy Sae, but I’m not really in the mood to talk to her. ‘’Breakfast is ready,’’ she calls from behind me. I turn from the window and walk towards the kitchen table. She has made me eggs and toast, like almost every morning. I’m going to sit and start eating the food, very slowly. All the hunger from the past few years, gone. Somehow I manage to finish my plate. Greasy Sae always makes sure I do, by sitting there until I’ve eaten it all. After that, she does the dishes and leaves. I’m alone again, sitting by the fire. The flames make me remember all of it. The forest fire. The outfits of the Games. The hospital. The bombs. It hurts, but it makes me stay focussed.

A couple of days later I feel it’s going to be a different day, but I’m not sure if it’s a good thing. I can see Greasy Sae standing in front of the stove, again making me some eggs and toast. It goes on and on. Her coming over. Me waiting for something. But nothing special ever happens. ‘’Spring’s in the air today. Why aren’t you going outside? I’m sure it will cheer you up. Maybe you can even go hunting.’’ It takes a few seconds before I realize she’s talking to me. I haven’t left the house since I came back from the Capitol. And why should I. It isn’t the same anymore as before. Everything is different now. And I definitely do not like it.

‘’I don’t have a bow,’’ I answer. ‘’Check down the hall,’’ she says. After she leaves, I decide to leave the kitchen and make my way down the hall. I end up in the study room. All the memories come back right at me. Those stupid berries. I should’ve eaten them and die, like I was supposed to. It would’ve saved me a lot of effort and pain. And all those people would still be alive. But now, they’re all dead because of me. And the worse part is that I am still here.

I look around and find a box with my father’s hunting jacket, our plant book, my parents’ wedding photo, the spile Haymitch sent in, and the locket Peeta gave me in the clock arena. The two bows and a sheath of arrows Gale rescued on the night of the firebombing lie on the desk. I put on the hunting jacket and leave the rest untouched. I’ve accepted the death of my father, but I can’t get myself in contact with the other stuff. I lay down on the sofa, trying to clear up my mind, when I fall asleep.

I find myself dreaming. Or well, it isn’t exactly a dream. It’s a horrendous nightmare, where I’m laying at the bottom of a deep grave, and every dead person I know by name comes by and throws a shovel full of ashes on me. Glimmer. Marvel. Rue. Clove. Cato. Cinna. Mags. Wiress. Gloss. Cashmere. Leeg 2. Mitchell. Boggs. Messalla. Finnick. Prim. And so many others. I try to call out, begging them to stop, but the ashes fill my mouth and nose and I can’t make any sound. Still the shovel scrapes on and on and on…

I wake from the sound. The scraping of the shovel continues. It’s hard to breath. Was this really just another nightmare? I run down the hall, out the front door and towards the sound. This can be it. Death. And I’m ready for it.

Instead the dark, deep hole I expected, I see him. I reduce my speed and make it to a walk until I stop. It can’t be. I’m sure it’s another trick. Maybe I’m still dreaming. His face is flushed from digging up the ground under the window. In a wheelbarrow are five scraggly bushes. I can’t make out what kind of bushes from this distance. What is he even doing? ‘’You’re back,’’ I say. He looks up, right into my eyes. It’s right at that moment that I know it’s not a dream. He’s real.

‘’Dr Aurelius wouldn’t let me leave the Capitol until yesterday. He wanted to make sure I could handle this,’’ Peeta says. He looks so well since the last time I’ve seen him. Still thin and covered with those pink burn scars like mine, but his eyes have lost that clouded, tortured look. He almost looks like the old Peeta, staring at me with those same blue eyes that used to meet mine and then flit away at school. Only now he holds my gaze. He’s frowning slightly while he does. I come back to my senses and realize I must look like a mess, because I am one. I try to push the hair out of my face and feel the clumps that are formed over the past few weeks. I feel ashamed. This is not how I imagined to meet him again. Not that I ever thought that I’d see him again. I push the feeling away and walk closer to him. ‘’What are you doing?’’ He relaxes his face. ‘’Yesterday the hovercraft landed on a small field with flowerbeds just next to the Victor’s Village. I saw these in the corner of my eye when I got out, but it was pretty late so I decided to come back in the morning. I dug them up and thought we could plant them along the side of the house. For her.’’ I want to yell at him. Tell him how ridiculous it is. At the moment I open my mouth, I see the bushes behind him and the name of the plant comes to me. Primrose. I close my mouth again, trying to look normal, and give him a nod of assent. I turn and start walking back towards the front door. When I’m around the corner I start running.

I slam the door shut and lock it. This can’t be happening. I sink to the ground, my back against the door. I want to scream. After a moment, a shiver creeps over my back. It’s not the plant or Peeta I’m angry with, it’s everything that happened in those last two years. Then I remember it. The poisonous thing upstairs in my bedroom. I force myself to rise and run up the stairs. When I enter my room, the smell’s still there. Not as strong as before, but it’s there. I walk towards the table, grab the vase, stumble down to the kitchen and throw the terrible thing with the rest of the dried flowers into the fire. Full of disgust and hatred I watch the flowers burn. The white rose, however, bursts into a blue flame, destroying it completely. Good. To make sure everything’s gone, I smash the vase on the floor. It shatters into a dozen pieces, spreading all over the stone tiles.

I run back upstairs to my bedroom and throw open the windows to make sure the smell gets out. But it’s already everywhere. On my clothes. In my hair. In my pores. I can’t take it anymore. I tear my clothes apart, walk towards the shower and scrub the horrible smell out of my hair and body. I wipe myself dry with the first towel I can find and walk back to my bedroom. I find something clean to wear that doesn’t smell like roses. Back in the bathroom I try to comb out my hair, without any success. I take some scissors from the drawer and start cutting it. Most of it was burned anyway.

I walk downstairs, back to the kitchen, when I see Greasy Sae, making breakfast. I walk towards the fire and throw the ripped clothes into the flames. Between the bites of food, I ask her, ‘’Where did Gale go?’’ ‘’District Two. Got himself a pretty good job, working for Panem’s new government.’’ That means he won’t come back to Twelve. Good.

‘’I’m going hunting today,’’ I say after a moment. Greasy Sae looks up to me and smiles. I wonder how long she’s been waiting to hear that from me. I take a bow and arrows from the study room and walk out of the front door, intending to go to the Meadow. While I head towards the town, I see dead bodies everywhere. Some people are trying to clean them up. I try to avoid their eyes and walk straight towards the Seam. From the ruins of my old house, I can see it. A deep pit has been dug, the bottom already filled with bones, a mass grave for the thousands of people of Twelve. Even this beautiful place had to change in something horrible. That’s it. The Meadow’s gone.

I try to walk towards the lake, but it’s too far. I stop at my meeting place with Gale and sit down on a rock. I close my eyes. Hoping it was all just a really long nightmare. Hoping when I open them again, Gale will be sitting next to me like he used to. But when I do, nothing has changed. Gale is still in Two and he won’t come back. Ever.

By the time I make it back to the fence, it’s almost dinnertime. I’m walking back to the town, trying to ignore the dead, but I can’t. I start running. When I’m at my front door, I collapse. I wake from a hissing sound. For a few seconds I don’t know where I am. I look around and see that I’m laying on the sofa. How did I get here? When I turn my head to the other side, I can see him in the moonlight. How did he get here? He’s probably come on foot, all the way from Thirteen. ‘’She’s not here. Go away,’’ I tell him. Buttercup hisses again. ‘’She’s gone. You won’t find Prim anymore.’’ At her name, he looks up, starting to meow hopefully. ‘’She’s gone! Get out!’’ I sit up straight and throw a pillow at him, but he dodges it. ‘’Don’t you get it, you stupid cat? She’s not coming back! And she never will! She’s dead!’’ I feel myself shaking. It’s the first time I said it out loud. It feels so real now. Suddenly, tears come streaming down my face. I sink to the ground, take another pillow in my hands, and I start rocking back and forth, back and forth. After all these weeks, it finally comes to me. Reality. ‘’She’s dead.’’ I’m crying and sobbing. Buttercup crouches beside me, wailing as well. Who would’ve ever thought there would be a time where we’d comfort each other.

Morning falls and there’s a knock on the door. I stand up, walk past a mirror and take a moment to look at myself. My hair falls just over my shoulders. My eyes are red and swollen. I look awful. I turn away from the mirror and open the door. On the other side are Peeta, bearing a warm loaf of bread, and Greasy Sae. I step aside and head towards the kitchen. I’m trying to hide my face, so I keep looking down. While Greasy Sae is making us breakfast, I walk towards the phone. I dial the phone number my mom wrote in her letter and talk to her for the first time in weeks. I also decide to call Dr Aurelius. When I’m done, I walk back to the kitchen again and start eating my breakfast.

I’m quiet. I’ve always been quiet, but not like this. Peeta notices it and I feel him staring at me. I rise from my chair and walk towards the living room, avoiding his eyes. I’m going to sit in the seat, my legs dangling over the armrest. I’m looking around the room. It feels so empty without them. Buttercups is laying down on the carpet. I’m sure he feels it too. After an hour or so, I hear the front door close. They left. I stand up and walk towards the kitchen to make me some tea, when I see him. Still sitting on the same chair as earlier today.

‘’I thought you left, too,’’ I say to Peeta. Now he is avoiding my eyes. I try to pretend he’s not there and find me some mint leaves. When I pour the boiling water into a cup, he calls me by my name. ‘’Katniss, we need to talk. No excuses. No running away.’’ He’s looking at me. His perfect blue eyes locked with mine. ‘’Okay,’’ I say hesitantly. ‘’Let’s go sitting in the living room.’’ This is it, I think. Maybe death would’ve been a better option.

When he sits down, his eyes are still focused on me. ‘’What do you want to talk about?’’ I know I can’t run away from this. After all, this has to happen once. I’m sure he has been thinking about this conversation, because he doesn’t talk that easy like he used to. ‘’I know I did things to you and others that were out of my control. And I’m sorry. Dr Aurelius helped me to figure out most of the things in my head. He even showed me the Games again, how it really happened, and all the interviews. Of us, of our families, all of it. It was hard, really hard, seeing the people again that are now gone. And even though it was painful, I’m glad he made me do it anyway. It made me realise something as well. I know that nothing will be ever the same as before, not even if all those people were still alive. The Games and the war changed us, and we can’t do anything about what happened anymore. The only thing we can do is move on. And I’m sure it will be hard, but maybe, just maybe, we can be the same like before. Haymitch, you and I. We can be a team again. Trying to get through this. Together.’’

It feels like he slapped me in the face. Does he really think I can do this? His eyes don’t leave mine. The look of them, I recognise it immediately. Hope. He has lost his entire family and almost all of his friends, and he still has hope. And when he can have it, why not me? I give him a true and honest nod. When I think about what he said, I get an idea. We have to make a book, to write down all the things we can remember about the people we lost. It’s like the plant book, were my family and I recorded the things that we can’t trust to our memory. Before Peeta can ask me anything, I’m dialling the number of Dr Aurelius again, telling him about the plan. When I’m finished I walk back to the living room and tell Peeta about the plan. A couple of days later, a large box of parchment sheets arrives on the train from the Capitol.

In the months that follow, Peeta and I are working on the book. The page begins with what the person used to look like. A photo if we can find it, otherwise Peeta sketches or paints them. Underneath the picture, the name and dates of birth and death are mentioned. On the next page, I write in my most beautiful handwriting all the details we can remember about them. The first time Prim tried to get milk from her goat, Lady. The places my father and I used to go to in the woods. Peeta’s father buying my squirrels. Finnick’s sea-green eyes. Cinna’s most craziest ideas with only a piece of silk. The way Rue could sneak up to you. Madge giving me the golden pin. On and on we go. After several weeks Haymitch finally joins us, adding the names of twenty-three years of tributes he was forced to mentor to the list. The additions run out. Sometimes there’s an old memory that comes to surface. A dried primrose is being kept between the pages. There’s even a photo of Finnick and Annie’s newborn son in it. Without them we wouldn’t be sitting here today. And because of that, we promise to make their deaths count.

A year after the Games Twelve has been almost fully rebuilt. The signs of the war are nowhere to be seen. Even the Meadow turned green again. Peeta and I are laying in the grass. Beneath us are thousands of our people. Our friends, our family. Dead. We don’t talk about it, but we know it all too well. However, the Meadow is a beautiful place. The birds are singing and we can even see flowers here and there. Dandelions. The ones that always gave me hope, and they still do, since that day at school, years ago.

It’s true, what Peeta said earlier. We moved on. We got through this. Together. Peeta and I even grew back together. No, we’re not the same as before, and we never will be. Peeta still hasn’t fully recovered from the Hijacking. Sometimes he’s clutched to the back of a chair, screaming, until his mind is good again. One time he even tackled me because of the flashbacks. But he’s doing better every day. There are still nights where I wake up screaming from my nightmares. Sometimes I even run away, like those days were my mom had dying patients on our kitchen table. But it’s different now. I want to run away from my thoughts, but I can’t. Luckily I have him. The boy with the bread. The dandelion in the spring. The one that’s always there for me. And no matter how bad our losses are, life can go on. It can be good again. And we are the living proof of that.

We don’t say much. We’re just laying there, my head on his chest, both looking up to the perfectly blue sky. I’m so happy to be here. I’m so happy to be here with him. I would’ve never imagined ending up here. I always thought I’d now live in fear. Afraid Prim would be picked at the reaping, while I wouldn’t be able to do anything anymore. If someone would’ve told me I’d end up like this, I wouldn’t believe it for a second. But now I’m thankful for it. For all of it. I’m finally happy again. All because of him.