#th:kai

It was a relief to find the space empty as far as he could see. Everyone was probably tuned into the Games as they went into the tenth day. The last twenty-four hours felt like they’d been longer than the rest of the Games, though. 

Chip bent forward to lean his forearms on the railing, flicking some of the ash into the forcefield and watching the little specks get zapped. He wondered if Ravenite would even let Evie come to the Tower, so Chip could try to at least see her during the Games. He wouldn’t put it past Ravenite to be so cruel; and he also wouldn’t put it past the man to parade his daughter with a victor around like she was a doll.

The cigarette went flying into the forcefield and Chip lit another one as he watched the remnants get zapped and fall away. He started to pace. Kai had custody of two kids, right? Chip knew his own history was likely filled with more extreme mistakes, but that didn’t mean Kai was an angel. He was a married man, after all.

Fuck, he was a married man.

Would it be the first time Chip aided and abetted (or abedded?) in infidelity? Hardly. But there was a difference between fucking someone who was married and you saw them once a year at a party, and having sex with a married friend. Still...He tilted his head to the side as he considered what could be his regrets and concluded he had none. Zephyr wasn’t there. People didn’t just fuck around on their spouses for no reason. And selfishly, Chip was relieved to have slept with someone other than Shava without needing drugs or alcohol in his system for the first time in a long time.

Then a concern struck him - would this kind of gossip be held against him in a custody battle? Ravenite was a sponsor, and one who was in favor with Battenberg, at that. Chip was the kid who didn’t deserve to win the 110th. 

The cigarette quickly burned up and ash fell off the edge as Chip sucked in until he thought he might never breathe again. The smoke escaped his mouth with a harsh sigh. 

What did it mean to be undeserving?

Ravenite was definitely deserving of the punch that broke his nose.

Evie was undeserving of being deprived of a relationship with her uncle.

Chip felt he was karmically deserving of the lost contact.

Electra was deserving of her release from the Games.

Nova was undeserving of what happened to her in the Arena. 

Belle was deserving of a life with her family in Three.

Olive was undeserving of the coward she’d found in Chip when the Peacekeepers closed in on her. She wasn’t deserving of his anger, either, even if it bubbled up again at the memory of what happened the night before. But how could she know what it meant to lose family and still be the catalyst for him to lose the only family he had left?

Perl was undeserving of her death. Perl was undeserving of all the hell he’d put her through. Perhaps the only reason he’d gotten out alive was because she deserved it. 

And his parents...his parents were undeserving of their execution.

Chip walked back to the railing, taking deep breaths between long pulls on the cigarette. He needed a third before long. 

Edison and Dayta...what would they think of their son now? Would the two rebels be ashamed their son was too scared to join a rebellion? Had he ever done anything that could make anyone in his family proud? Was the time to start really when they were all dead?

All dead. And here he was, the least deserving of them all to be alive. The one who stayed alive through overdoses, car crashes, and a whole fucking arena. 

Here he was. The victor of the Foster family.

Chip rubbed a hand over the top of his hat. He had no regrets for what he’d done that night, but that was nothing compared to the stack of regrets from his life that grew higher everyday. Evie couldn’t be added to them. Not after everything he’d put Perl through; not after everything Ravenite and Panem put her through. Perl had to step up to raise him, now it was his turn to step up. It wouldn’t be easy and it wouldn’t be comfortable. But he had a card he could pull that Ravenite never could. 

Taking out his phone, Chip scrolled through his contacts until he found the number for the Games liaison in Battenberg’s office. He was surprised to hear someone pick up at that hour, but they were probably getting calls from Sponsors and victors all throughout the Games.

“Hello, Mr. Foster, how can we help you this evening?” 

“I-I need to talk to Batt-ttenberg or someone in her off-ffice,” Chip explained. “A pers-sonal m-matt-tter I need some h-help with.”

“Well, Mr. Foster, as you can imagine, the president and her entire office is very busy with the Games. We can try to schedule something in September, maybe, when-”

He paused, taking a drag on the cigarette as he considered his options. The best option seemed clear.