D4 | Rafe Archer | finished

Rafe isn't particularly good at patience when there's nowhere comfortable for him to settle and daydream. So despite the fact it's only been five minutes, the wait in this bland mirrored room is beginning to itch at him. He wriggles in his too-large shirt. 'Can we just get going?'

As if on cue, the door swings open just in front of him and Rafe, startled, falls back on his butt with a yelp. "Come in," says the disembodied Author, and Rafe is hasty to comply without even dusting himself off.

He scrambles in. The Author gives him an annoyed look and he blushes. The gender-neutral spectre in front of him looks amused and scribbles in its notebook, muttering to itself, "Impatient... Easily embarrassed... easily afraid."

That's not true, he wants to protest, blush deepening to the shade of a ripe tomato. To his shock he finds he can't speak. Panic overwhelms him abruptly, and he tries to catch the Author's attention, but it's too busy writing away. 'Okay. Breathe. It's not that bad. He just can't speak. That's not so bad at all.

He forces himself to calm down slowly before leaning forwards to see what the Author is writing. 'Neurotic... Sarcastic to self' He's none of those. Is he? The Author pauses and adds, muttering aloud, "Also in denial with the rest of them." He shrinks back to himself.

There's a long silence while the Author's pen scratches across the paper. Leaning over again, Rafe sees the words, 'innocent,' and 'sad'. He flushes, but this time more out of fear that it's obvious. Rafe leans back before he has to see anymore, feeling his heart clench. He knows he's sad. He doesn't know so many parts of himself, doesn't know whose flesh and blood he comes from. But he knows he's sad. Rafe's cried into his mother's shoulder often enough without rhyme or reason to recognize this.

"So," the Author says at last, breaking him out of his own head, "You're kind of insecure about everything, aren't you? We'll say you're extremely shy about yourself and your... hopeless personality." The Author looks down at the page of notes. Rafe feels like he's failed the Author somehow and hangs his head quietly. "Do you really hate being ordinary?"

'It's not 'ordinary'. I'm a freak for my district. Just look at me.'

"We'll say you can go on the trapeze, the circus will take you in." Pages ruffle. "You're messy, a little bit irresponsible, and it says here you like to daydream." The words are beginning to fade into the background. "You're a coward, but you'll love to help anyone and everyone in your path. You keep to yourself quite a lot, prefer reading over swimming..." 'Birds are the most beautiful creatures. Free to fly, free to be away from others. Eagles... I love eagles.' "Rafe?"

Dreamily, he thinks, 'If I could be an animal I'll want to be an eagle. Not a fish or an oyster, they smell funny. Taste funny too. But an eagle can do what it likes-'

"Tendency to go off topic," mutters the Author.

Rafe is left in a room with pictures of his family. He's slightly unnerved (where did the Author get these pictures anyway?) but he doesn't disobey, staring blankly at the still images of himself.

The pictures begin from when he turned six. He supposes it's because he doesn't remember anything before that age (and he can't help but wonder if the Author knows). His first memory consists of warm, large hands curling his baby fingers around a bowl of warm soup, and then a lined but gentle face that he couldn't help but trust. Dad raised him as his own, always handling him as though he might break (staring at the pictures, he wonders why he hasn't yet). Mom taught him to dance (badly, he's nowhere near as graceful as the rest of his family), and encouraged him to take up music (he rather likes the flute, though he finds it difficult to blow for a long period of time).

Casadee arrived a year later; mom was already pregnant with her when they found him abandoned and asleep. Casadee is the life of their house, and while she's clearly the alpha between the two of them her bite is usually aimed at their enemies. She bullies and protects him both, for which Rafe is grateful. It's because of her that Rafe has not had a single thoroughly bad day.

Rafe remembers secretly wanting to find out who left him for his mom and dad to find. Although they didn't want him... he wants to know them. Sometimes he'll imagine that they had to leave him there (because he's always been a sickly child, he's had three times as many illnesses as Casadee), or he'll die wherever they go. (He has to believe that, not the rumors people spread about him, about the Wanderers mating with cripples and whatnot. He has to tell himself that there's nothing wrong with being crippled.)

Every night Rafe gives his thanks that he hasn't been reaped that year. He's afraid of death - he's afraid of most things, even the water that his peers so love. (The first time he went swimming, he recalls nearly drowning, the reef clinging to him wickedly, dragging at him, leaving thin but angry red marks on his skin for days later. He's terrified of the water). Rafe doesn't want to die.

(And most nights he wakes, dreaming of blood, knives and tears and angry shouts before he falls down, down. He always wakes before he hits the ground.)