a means to an end [carter oneshot]

[Tom]

Carter Laws would always have Lars' back.

Whether it's pushing the kid in a shopping cart, taking on mutts alone, or riding a train through the district under the guise of mayoral meetings, he would always have the kid's back. A whisper of words on the train from other travelers, some of who he's gotten to know a little too well. Close proximity will do that to people, trapped in a metal car of death speeding towards an end. A hovering sensation of eyes on him is always there with the curiosity of if he truly was the Carter Laws, a tribute who was nothing special, despite the eleven to his name. A friendly fake smile as he laughs off their poison, trying to breathe normally, but failing. Panic attacks shrouding his gaze every time he has to disappear to the bathroom to hide the heavy breaths and tear streaked face.

Carter would walk across the world for any of them.

Lars. Auto. Max.

They were the only ones who carried him when no one else would. The only people who truly had his back in death, something he'll never be able to thank them for. No amount of gifts could be as vital as that. Instead, he rides this train in the tension of peacekeepers and workers who all have an opinion about this or that. Already, he's been questioned about the things he's meant to do. All of which are never the truth, but lying has become second nature to him. A boy trying to survive in a world he didn't belong in. The smile he would give to the peacekeepers trying to hide the pain in his chest or the lack of breath.

District Three was in the horizon, close enough to hear the buzz of electricity thrumming through the buildings around this district. People staring as the train passes, their faceless faces blurring together into a melancholy void of nothingness. Larceny rings across his head as he hopes to help in any way that he can. The worry on the edge of his tongue filling his chest with an empty hole of stress, burning with a cold touch. He had to be okay. He had to be okay. He had to be okay.

Carter needed him to be okay.

No one understood what that could do to him.

What it would do to him.

Fingertips tap gently against the leather of the seat, praying for the train to finally pull into the station of Three. The closer and closer they get to the station, his heart beats erratically. The excitement and worry bubble up in his stomach before he has to close his eyes feeling the train slow more and more, until it stops. A silence filled in the car as he opens his eyes to watch others slowly get off, one by one, until they are halfway done. A silence fills as peacekeepers watch him carefully. A world where he'll never get a chance to breathe. A means to an end not existing in this place.

Instead, he lingers in the back for a moment. The smell of fresh air finally escaping into the train car, where he can see a new freedom from the peacekeepers in the light. Except, freedom is nothing more than an enigma in some frightened boy's head.

The sound of sirens rings for a moment before the sound of a loud boom collides with the train, shaking it vigorously as the blast knocks people back and into him where he falls hard into the carpeted metal floor. The loud thud of his own body crashing into the chair and floor next to him. The sound of a bomb echoing across his skull like the cannon that announced his death. Or maybe it was the cannon in his ear, just like last time.

Auto could have been right, where they were stuck in their form of hell.

As the sound echoes across his skull, he finally catches himself and pushes off the floor, almost daring to leave the train and escape those peacekeeper eyes, all of which were now on him. A moment longer expecting him to know something about this, but he knew nothing other than what they knew. A bomb just went off in the train depot. Someone had to hate him. Knew he was coming. Or it's just a coincidence.

The white of uniforms is all he can see before bodies clash with his own, shoving him harshly to the ground. The loud bang is almost as loud as last time, but this time he can only hear the muffled sounds of voices. The echoes of something not true. Living a lie and suffering the consequences of having a name known by others. The hatred bleeding into his skin as they roughly shove his hands together, holding them in place with poison on their lips.

"Should have never trusted this kid."

The words ring in his ears. Trust. As if anyone could trust him, except Lars, Max, and Auto. Right now, he had nothing to be guilty of. Peacekeepers were nothing more than assholes who shoot before thinking. Nothing more than the white blankness that must fill their head. Instead, they shove him harder into the ground as he struggles to find a more comfortable position on the floor. Voice calm as he finally speaks.

"I did nothing."

The sounds of a gun being slammed into his jaw is the last thing he hears before the world fades away to a blackness. A smiling image of a peacekeeper who happily will knock out an eightieth tribute for the sake of possibilities fills his head and then there's a fire that burns in his chest as he can barely see someone else in the distance. The soft smirk of someone he saw once long ago. Mitchell Laws in that same outfit in which he left him alone.

If they wanted a reason to kill him, then so be it.

A means to an end.