any way you go you lose | [Jones JB]

[sbeeg]

The second the ceremony ends I move. I leave my parents behind, pulling from their embrace and making my way directly to the justice building. I bump into children scurrying away from their pens and I don't stop to hear their condolences. I find a familiar face, one shaped older by the last few years. Lorenzo looks different than he had on out Reaping, but so do I. I don't say anything, I can't without crying. Instead I grab his hand like we had outside of the museum and drag him towards the looming gray prison.

The doors have barely closed behind the Reaping procession when I march up to them. I feel impossibly small looking up into tinted Peacekeeper visors. I take a breath, grounding myself in order to squeak out an announcement.

"My sister is in there." The pair of guards pause for a moment before pulling the heavy doors open again.

I drag poor Lornezo through the hall before pausing in front of the rotting hardwood door I had sat behind years prior.

"Can you find Mace?" I ask Enzo quickly, trying to gather my thoughts into a reasonable order. "I need to talk to him before the train leaves."

I finally let go of his hand, my fingers popping from the force I'd been clutching it. I feel afloat with it and instantly raise my hand to my mouth, chewing on the cuticle around my thumb.

The door seems miles away but I walk to it, knocking softly against it before opening it.

Kahinta is seated across the room hunched over. She's taller than me now, has been for a year or so, but she doesn't look it in the dim light of the justice building. It doesn't feel right to look down on her. Instead I kneel in front of her.

"I'm so sorry-" my voice is choked off before I can finish and the tears are fresh and hot. I cannot help but feel the weight of all my actions like a boulder in my stomach. Every night out after curfew. Every nasty glance at a Keeper. All the Games I refused to watch. Had they collected all of my sins? Did they keep a tab of every transgression just to punish me?

Or as it just because they could?

I realize I've brought nothing for Kahinta. No piece of home to take into the arena, no piece of wisdom that could help her. I'be brought only my own baggage and sorrow.

"I love you," I struggle out instead. "I love you and I'm so sorry."

table credit griffin^^

[wimdy]

It's a soft knocking on the door that draws Kahinta back into herself, back to center as she feels herself spilling cold and clumsy in her thoughts. She doesn't cry, but that disorientation of needing to collect the sun-scattered parts of herself from the depths hazes her eyes all the same. A moment's pause, and Kahinta looks up just as the door cracks open to reveal Temple.

Temple.

Ripred, she feels like her heart has been torn from her, Temple's eyes glassy with tears as she moves quickly to kneel in front of her, and it is so unfair. What she's done to her sister, to put her here again, to drag her through this pain behind her is so unfair to them both, and if Kahinta could gather her voice in that moment, she would curse the Capitol to the wallpaper and sky above for forcing them into such a corner.

"I'm so sorry-"

There's no hesitation in her movement, hands reaching out to cup around Temple's cheeks as her sister's voice breaks against the shores of her sorrow. More than anything, she wishes she could wipe the tears from Temple's face permanently, sooth the pain of too many lives lived in the wake of her rebirth, but there's only one thing that Kahinta can do to stop her crying and she's not sure she'll be able to manage it. Let them try, she thinks, an echo of her mind as she'd climbed the stairs to the stage, and that cold burn inside her prickles again until she is able to blink back her own tears.

"No, no, there is nothing for you to be sorry for," she whispers, bending down to press her forehead to her sister's, one hand moving back to stroke through the loose wisps of her hair.

"I love you. I love you and I'm so sorry."

Without lifting away, Kahinta shakes her head, shutting her eyes tight at the tide of guilt that sweeps through her. Temple thinks that she's at fault somehow, that she's the reason Kahinta is sitting where she is, is being strung along into the cattle chute. Her fingers tremble as she continues to brush Temple's hair back and away from her face, shushing her quickly.

"This isn't on you," she tells her, voice quiet but steady as she draws back just enough to look her sister in the eye with a firm intensity. A shake of her head, still holding her sister together in her hands as her own mouth tugs into a frown. "This isn't on you, Temple. I should have been more careful. I'm so sorry they're doing this to you. You don't- You've never deserved this. I was supposed to be protecting you. I told you I was going to keep you safe and I can't-"

Her voice cracks, a hushed whisper cut short as she presses her lips together into a thin line, trying and failing to blink away the tears this time as she slips from her chair to kneel beside Temple and draws her sister closer to her than she has managed in the all of the years she's spent running around in the dark.

[sbeeg]

Kahinta's palms are rough against my skin, calloused rancher's fingers that wipe away tears and brush my hair from my face. More guilt weighs me down, dragging me down to the floorboards. It is her and not I being sent off to the slaughter and yet she is comforting me, shushing me, and soothing me. It's completely unfair.

I sniffle as she speaks, trying to ease my bruised ego. I need to be stronger for her, the Temple that existed for the little girl before the 80th. Before redwoods and throwing knives. I needed to be the older sister I promised myself I was.

"This isn't on you, Temple. I should have been more careful."

I look up, my chin pulling from my hands as I stare up into her face. She's attempting to hold back tears as she talks but as the words flow out they slowly begin to fall. But I hear her words as if they're calling from another room as the meaning of her stoic posture and apologetic words take hold.


I told you I was going to keep you safe and I can't-"

Her words trail off and she falls to the floor with me, wrapping me in her arms. I don't hold her back, my mind is still racing as her words click into place.

It begins as a stern question but I cannot hide the desperation in my voice as I grab her shoulders and pull her back to look into her eyes for the truth. "What do you mean careful?"

I can feel the clock ticking away our time together and I realize I have wasted the last five years and five minutes will not help now. It was not my own actions Kahinta is sorry for but her own. I spent every year keeping my mouth shut and hiding away and I thought that would be enough. I did not think she would do anything to possibly put herself in harm's way. But it is a coward's mind that assumes everyone else is spineless.

"Kahinta, what have you done?"

table credit griffin^^

[wimdy]

"What do you mean careful? Kahinta, what have you done?"

It burns, the way Temple's fear breaks the air between them. Kahinta sucks in a wet breath, chest feeling tight as her sister doesn't curl around her in turn, instead choosing to grab her by the shoulders and pull away to look at her. All at once, Kahinta feels like a child again, tiny and staring up at Temple as she's being reprimanded for not getting chores done, for coming home with a litter of kittens in her shirt, for moving too much in bed as they try to fall asleep back to back with an ocean between them.

That desperation, though, settles something in her all the same. This is her sister. This is Temple, and Kahinta wouldn't have been able to live with herself if she had sat idly by and waiting for something else to happen to her when she could have possibly prevented it, could have changed something.

Three years is so little time. She hasn't even brushed the surface, feels like she hasn't managed a single thing. Nothing is promised, but Kahinta has not felt the twist of total loss so keenly, of a future ripped away before it could make a difference, since she was twelve and watching her sister fade while she sat helpless so far away.

Kahinta isn't helpless anymore.

Sniffling, and feeling it deep behind her eyes as the tears continue to fall, she shakes her head and reaches up a hand to wipe roughly at the tears. Kahinta's not a child any longer either; she hasn't been for a long time, so despite the flash of guilt that sucks the air from her chest, there's nothing for that feeling. There's no reprimand that Temple could give that would hurt as much as choosing to do nothing. Her hands wrap around her sister's wrists, holding tight as she trembles and tries to clear her throat.

"I told you the day you came back, the day they brought you home," she says, a quiet, clear intensity to her voice as she lets her sister hold her apart. They have so little time, and the distance between them is still so wide. How many nights had Kahinta dreamed of bridging the distance, and how many more had she dreamed of widening the rift to keep her safe? It doesn't hurt any less to see it all crumble into the dark.

Her voice goes quiet as she leans in, barely whispering in the loud in-between of their breaths. "I told you I would keep you safe. How was I supposed to keep you safe if they could still take you, if they could still take anyone? I couldn't let them take you again."

[sbeeg]

Kahinta rubs at her face to wipe away a tear.

Like she did as a child. A scrawny five year old crying out for the cow that was indifferent to her kindness. A flower in her hand, still offering it as the bell around the old dairy heifer's neck announced it's retreat. Ma was too busy to comfort such useless tears. I wasn't much older but I wrapped her in my arms. I held her close until her breath steadied and we followed the cow through the prairie until Kahinta could finally extend her offering. The cow ate it from her hands and she had giggled, her sorrow forgotten but her eyes still puffy and her cheeks streaked with tears.


"I told you the day you came back, the day they brought you home."

I'm trying to remember what she had said that day. I had been so take aback by her anger I barely took in her words. She had been so different and that change had scared me. I thought I could keep the Games secluded to myself. To consume all the pain of the Jones' family and hide it away.

And yet it was clear now that Kahinta wore that same pain on her face. My suffering was not limited to my own heart.

"I told you I would keep you safe. How was I supposed to keep you safe if they could still take you, if they could still take anyone? I couldn't let them take you again."

Kahinta's voice was just above a whisper but it felt as loud as the anthem shaking the ground below me.

How could I not see this? I should have seen it- I should have stopped it.

My hands are shaking and I cannot steady them. They wrap into the red fabric of Kahinta's dress and make it harder to eventually let her go.

She wanted to keep me safe but it was never supposed to be her job.

"Kahinta, it's okay," I say trying to put on a smile but unsure if my face followed the direction. Tears are rolling down my face and I can do nothing but let them come. There is no stopping them now. "I'm safe. You kept me safe. Th-"

A sob breaks my voice but I push through.

"Thank you so much," I feel the smile finally pull at my lips but snot covers my upper lip. My grin quivers and it feels like if it falls everything else will with it. "Please, just tell me what you did."

Tell me it's all a misunderstanding. Tell me it was a mistake. Tell me it is something I can fix.

Please.

table credit griffin^^ 

[wimdy]

Temple smiles, broken and pained and so, so confused, and Kahinta feels sick to know she has caused this. It has to have been worth it somehow. She has to make it worth it, all of the lies and the distance and the loss, but she doesn't know how to fix this when she has so little time.

"Kahinta, it's okay. I'm safe. You kept me safe. Th- Thank you so much. Please, just tell me what you did."

There's no time. There's no time, and no amount of explanation can fix the hurt, can put her name back into the bowl. No matter what she does, there's no going back to before. Her only option is what comes after.

The thought of coming home is almost worse than leaving.

"I- I can't," and it's the first full sob she's let pass her lips, stuttering from her chest and winding her in a way nothing else is able to. All of this wasted time, all of these bridges burned, and Kahinta keeps on torching them all the same. She can't stop, even as she holds her sister close enough to see the burns. "I can't. I can't! I'm not done. I'm not done, Temple, I'm not done. I can't be done. I can't, please-"

It's been a long time since Kahinta has let herself crumble, but three years of work on building her walls isn't enough to learn how to seal all of the cracks, how to hide the imperfections. On that stage, she'd felt so young and so old and every age in between, but here, now, with her sister, she is seventeen. Kahinta Jones is seventeen, and scared despite the anger that had found its home in her chest at twelve years old. She's scared, and she feels it rising in her like a tide, washing out everything else as it hits her that despite everything she will try to do to get back home, this could be the last time she ever sees Temple.

They're trying to get rid of her and she's terrified that they'll manage it and that she'll just be another name to add to the list, another person ferried to their death far, far from home surrounded by nothing but strangers and the remnants of lives cut short.

Her whole body shakes as her foundation cracks, and she leans forward into her sister's arms as she shuts her eyes tight, clinging to Temple hard enough that she feels her fingers ache with the force. With a shake of her head, she tries to speak through the thickness of her throat, her voice raw and uneven.

"I can't tell you. I can't- I can't keep you safe, and I need to keep you safe," she cries, pressing her face into Temple's neck and speaking as low as she can manage. "You need to- to find Bette. You have to keep each other safe. Please, please, she'll… Tell her- You have to tell her that I haven't forgiven her. I haven't forgiven her, but if she keeps you safe, it doesn't matter anymore. She owes me that. She owes me."

[sbeeg]

Kahinta breaks and I feel my heart breaking with her. She's sobbing and all I can do is hold her close. I smooth her hair down, trying to soothe her while also trying to piece her together.

She shoves her face into my neck, hot tears smearing against my skin. I have a vague memory of carrying her upstairs after a long Reaping day when she was still too young to be considered. It's not a comforting memory, it's taunting. How thankful I was that her biggest worry was exhaustion and not the Games.

It's not fair.

"You need to- to find Bette..."

My heart falls into my stomach.

Bette stands in our family barn, her shoes caked with mud, with a crate of weapons behind her.

Kahinta leaving as the sun goes down. She says she's meeting friends but I never hear their names.

"Bette?"

She's saying Bette owes her. I didn't know they had more than a single conversation. They didn't tell me anything.

I want to push her further. I want every detail I can get but I only have minutes left with her.

Instead I rub my hand across her back as another sob shakes her body.

"It's okay," I say quietly. "It's okay, Kahinta. I'll find her. I'll be safe."

I'm staring at the wall and the aging floral wallpaper slowly blurs into a mess of faded green and yellowing lilies.

"But you have to come home."

I hold her tighter as if that might keep the Peacekeepers from dragging her from District Ten and onto the train. As if the stylists can't break my embrace to curl her hair and make her up as a character instead of a young girl. As if I could ever keep the world from treating her harshly.

"I can't lose you."

table credit griffin^^ 

[wimdy]

"Bette?"

And Kahinta can hear the dawning realization in her voice, the waver of uncertainty before it solidifies into stone. Her arms wind tighter around Temple, and she nods, heavy heart and heavy head against her sister's shoulder.

"I'm so sorry," she mouths, the sound hardly passing her lips, lost in the warmth of Temple's quiet reassurances that she'll find Bette and be safe. It's all Kahinta has wanted for so long, for so long. Temple will be alright. Bette will make sure that Temple will be alright.

"But you have to come home. I can't lose you."

Kahinta will make sure that Temple will be alright. Before Temple is even done speaking, Kahinta is nodding into her neck, trying to soak in the comfort while she has the promise of it and trying to match it with a promise of her own.

"I'm coming home," she whispers, words careful in their cadence, each one soft enough for promise and sharp enough for dare. "I'm not letting them take me. There's too much-"

Drawing back, Kahinta stops speaking as she takes in Temple's face, the raw, unfocused quality around her eyes. She thinks of hours spent in damp basements, staring at brick walls until she can see the march of bloodied feet against the shadows, and of months of smuggling herself and others through the dark to the tune of her own hurried footsteps. Days and days and weeks of work, trying to keep an eye on everything around her and everything that may affect the group and everyone who may get in their way.

There's too much here I have left to do, she had been about to say. None of it matters. It all pales in comparison to Temple.

A deep breath, and Kahinta releases her hands from her sister's shirt to lift to her face instead, tear lines to match her own rubbed away with gentle strokes of her thumb. "They don't get to keep the Joneses," she vows instead, words heavy on her tongue with the most solemn promise she has ever made.

Kahinta intends to see it through.