Chapter 19
DAY TWENTY
His lips were blue.
He was horrified.
As the adrenaline ebbed away, Peter’s eyes flicked between his hands, stained with black blood, and the dead tribute in front of him. Dead tribute. Dead kid. I killed him. I killed a kid. I’m a kid.
The horror was so intense it seemed to mute the pain he was feeling, and at once, Peter collapsed into the snow.
He couldn’t breathe he couldn’t see everything hurt he couldn’t hear and he could only feel pain pain everywhere all at once it was all he could see he could hear why was he breathing he existed just for pain he justed wanted to die
the walls came closing in on him squeezing together and together crushing his chest suffocating him he gasped for air but none came his heart pounded in his ears a deafening cacophony drowning out all rational though his vision blurred swirling colors merging into a chaotic blur
his thoughts raced a jumble of fragments crashing colliding no coherence just chaos
spinning
spinning
spinning out of control he couldn’t escape this he would never escape this it would never stop his body was trembling he was sweating he was freezing he was hot he was cold
something clawed at his chests nails digging into his flesh was it him or the mutt or the dead kid he was desperate for relief desperate for release from the torment so he clawed and clawed and clawed and hope the pain would bring him back
I killed him.
He is dead.
I am selfish.
A light.
A light in Peter’s existence shone in front of his eyes.
“I wish I never turned into this,” Peter sobbed. He couldn’t even hear himself, but the cries racked his body anyway. Warm tears ran down his cheeks. Arms enveloped him, providing a fleeting sense of comfort.. He was vaguely aware of someone dragging his body away from the dead kid but he didn’t want to leave, he wanted to die with him–
A light. A hand stroking the side of his face.
He was in someone’s arms, there was a cheek pressing against his face, a familiar warmth. He felt lips on the top of his head, someone stroked his skin, someone packed snow into his wounds to numb the pain.
Peter’s body convulsed, his cries echoing into the white abyss of agony, until finally, the merciful embrace of sleep descended upon him, enveloping him in its dark embrace.
In the hazy realm of dreams, Peter’s mind became a twisted canvas where reality and illusion melded into a surreal tapestry of chaos.
He found himself standing in an empty arena, the walls towering about him, suffocating his senses. The air was thick with anticipation and tension that seemed to penetrate his very being. Whispers echoed through the shadows, their voices a cacophony of distorted murmurs.
As Peter took a step forward, the ground beneath him dissolved into a pool of shifting colors, morphing and swirling like liquid dreams. He stumbled along, his footing uncertain, as the ground transformed into a labyrinth of color that defied logic and reason. Walls rose and fell with each moment, closing in around him, mocking his attempts to find an escape.
Shapes and figures danced at the edge of his vision, elusive and ever-changing. They taunted him with their distorted forms, their laughter a chilling echo in the empty expanse. Faces he knew and faces he didn’t flickered in and out of focus, blurring the lines between friend and foe, reality and illusion.
Time lost all meaning to Peter as a relentless surge of fear gripped his heart. The world around him warped and twisted. Shadows crawled across the floor, their tendrils reaching out to ensnare him, dragging him deeper into the abyss.
A symphony of disjointed screaming filled his ears – screams, whispers, and wails came together to form a demonic melody. It was a symphony of pain and anguish, each note a brushstroke on the canvas of his fevered mind.
And then, in the midst of the chaos, a figure emerged. A silhouette shrouded in white light, its eyes gleaming intensity, reached out towards him, beckoning with a twisted smile. Fear and curiosity warred within Peter, drawing him closer despite the warning signs.
As their hands touched, an electric surge coursed through his veins, jolting his senses awake.
Peter’s eyes fluttered open, drenched in sweat, his heart pounding in his chest. The remnants of the fever dream lingered, its tendrils clutching at his consciousness, a reminder of what had happened. He felt something cold against his forehead. As his eyes came into focus, he saw Lyv above him. They were on the forest floor – or at least it seemed so from the snow Peter’s hand touched and the forest canopy above Lyv’s head. “Shhh,” Lyv said, her hand pressed against the cold piece of fabric on his forehead. “Good morning, Peter.”
Peter wildly glanced around. He propped himself up, finding his body tucked deep into the sleeping bag. His jacket was draped over top Lyv’s shoulders, and she smiled down at him. He furrowed his brows. “Lyv? Where are we? What happened?” All of the noises he heard seemed a little muted, a little distorted like he was listening to things through a thin layer of water.
Lyv sighed, pulling the cool cloth from his forehead. Peter realized that there was a gnawing, piercing hunger in his stomach. On cue, it rumbled ferociously, drawing a chuckle from Lyv. “Your appetite is already back, I see.” She sat back and leaned against a tree nearby. “I tried to get you to climb a tree, but you were delirious and shouting and fighting me – eventually we got here and you passed the fuck out. Ingrid sent me this–” Lyv tossed a needle over to Peter, and he deftly grabbed it from the air, turning it over in his hands. The needle itself was empty, but there was still a white note card glued to it. This will help. - I.
Peter stared at the needle for a few moments. He didn’t think Ingrid would actually come through on something like this. “It seemed to help the fever and slow the infection a little, but…” Lyv’s voice trailed off. She had torn off a piece of Peter’s shirt and tied it around his wound, packing the wound with bits of soft fabric from one of the backpacks she must’ve doubled back to retrieve. Peter didn’t even want to look at it. It still hurt, but the pain was dulled.
Suddenly, everything came rushing back to him in a flood of memories. The screeching, the Mutt, the dead tribute, the blue lips, the panic attack – all of it. His pupils dilated as he remembered, and Lyv must’ve noticed, because she leaned forward and pulled Peter into a hug. “It’s okay, Pete. You did what you had to,” she murmured.
“Only-only I didn’t have to,” Peter moaned into Lyv’s shoulder. “I didn’t have to do that.”
Lyv pushed him away and stared deep into his eyes.
“Yes, you did. And that’s the end of that.” Her tone was short and snappy. Peter had heard Nat talk like that before, and from his experience, if someone came back at them nothing good happened. So, he let that be. Instead, he began to focus on his body. His leg was still screaming in pain, but it was dulled, and the fire that ran through his veins seemed just a little less cooler. His body itself felt normal again. The piercing cold still chilled his bones, but not in a feverish way. The sweat that had been on his head was already dissipating. His arm, as Peter glanced down to it, was still bent at a sickeningly odd angle. He grimaced. It was still incredibly sore, but a little more solid – it must’ve healed a little bit. That had happened to Peter before. If he wanted it to be better, he’d have to re-break it and set it, but he wasn’t sure he had the strength or energy to do that here. If he was going to die anyways, what did it matter?
With a sudden realization, he reached up to his ears. He anticipated dried blood to be crusted around them, but Lyv must’ve cleaned them. His ears were already better… Peter wondered if the medicine had anything to do with that. Or– “Lyv, how long has it been?”
Lyv glanced at Peter and pressed her lips into a tight line.
“You’ve been out for two days, Pete.”
Peter grimaced and immediately shook his head. “Lyv, I’m sorry, I-”
He found Lyv’s finger snaking up to his lips, silencing him as she gently pressed her index finger on his lips.
“You have nothing to apologize for. Nothing.”
With that, Lyv quickly recapped the past two days. She skirted around the part where she’d found Peter in the middle of a panic attack. Neither one of them wanted to relive that experience. She’d gotten the kid to move, knowing that somebody most definitely heard the Mutt, and stumbled with Peter to this area that was a ways away. Under the cover of darkness, Lyv immediately retraced their steps and eventually located their original tree before anyone else could retrieve their bags. It had taken her some time to find a way up, as flying wasn’t an option, but she eventually figured it out.
Apparently, Lyv had been force feeding him freeze-dried fruit and meat and melted snow for the past two days. She skipped right over the tree bark. Ingrid had sent the medicine on the second day, and now… here they were. It acted quickly. Peter noticed his head felt much clearer and he had a raging appetite which he stifled by scaring down the tree bark, figuring it was more expendable than the rest. They had three rations left from Shayna and Allen’s bag, and all their freeze-dried meats and fruits. Lyv hadn’t started a fire for the past few days. With Peter out and no powers to fall back on, she admitted how afraid she was.
Peter felt a wave of guilt wash over him for leaving Lyv to face all of that alone. The thought materialized in his mind. Lyv must’ve seen that kind of thought manifesting itself in Peter’s brain and quickly swatted him alongside the head, sending both of them into a fit of laughter.
They spent the rest of that day napping. Lyv must’ve slept less than she’d let on while Peter was out, because the moment Peter decided he was well enough to keep watch, she crawled into the sleeping bag next to him and almost immediately fell into a deep sleep.
The rest of the day passed rather uneventfully. Lyv made it seem like nobody else had died over the past two days, and so far, Peter hadn’t heard any cannons since he’d woken up. He supposed the Gamemakers considered the action they’d endured sufficient for now, but he knew it was only a matter of time before something else came. With the dwindling number of tributes, Peter wouldn’t be surprised if the Career pack set their sights on him and Lyv. There were few non-Careers left, and the tension among the remaining survivors was palpable. Perhaps, soon enough, they would turn against one another in a desperate bid for survival.
Lyv woke when the sun began to set. She forced Peter to split a ration with her, and they hydrated it over the fire. Though it was the same repetitive combination of chicken, rice, and veggies, each bite melted on Peter’s tongue like a taste of heaven. He reasoned that it must be nourishing for his battered body. Speaking of which, pain continued to course through every fiber of his being. His leg throbbed relentlessly, his arm screamed with soreness, and his hearing remained muffled and distorted. His stomach still ached, and his fists bore the evidence of blood and bruising. Whatever was on that sword must’ve messed with my healing, Peter reasoned to himself. He glanced down at the makeshift bandage Lyv had made around his leg wound, not wanting to confront the extent of his injuries.As nightfall blanketed the forest, Lyv and Peter allowed the fire to dwindle, its flames reduced to shimmering coals. Seeking warmth, they nestled close together in the sleeping bag, their bodies pressed up against one another. Their heads rested on their hands as they gazed up at the sky. The familiar melody played softly in the air, but tonight, no faces appeared. Once the seal of the Galactic Authority faded, only the stars remained, twinkling in the expanse above. Peter couldn’t help but question the authenticity of the distant lights; he clung to the belief that they were real.
Besides Peter, Lyv shifted in the sleeping bag, her body pressed against his. Peter took a deep breath before he spoke with a touch of uncertainty in his voice.
“Lyv, I gotta promise you something.”
“What, Peter?”
“We’re going to be rescued,” his voice was laced with determination. “Once we get out of here, I… I kinda want you to come to Earth with me. We can figure things out, if that makes sense? And if you want, I-I’d be willing to go to your planet too. We can explore new worlds and have adventures. It’ll be amazing. Just like Star Wars. You can meet the team, and… yea. I just, I thought I’d ask.”
Lyv’s expression softened, her façade momentarily slipping to reveal a vulnerable teenager. She gazed at Peter, her eyes filled with a mixture of fear and longing as they reflected the stars in the sky, but she mustered a smile. “Sure, Peter. Sounds like a plan.”
Though her heart ached with doubt, Lyv pretended to believe that they’d get out of here. She could tell Peter thought it might be true. She knew the odds were stacked against them, but she couldn’t bear to shatter his hope.
Lost in their conversation, Peter’s thoughts wandered, and he voiced one of his worries aloud. “Do you think we’ll have nightmares again? We could really use the sleep without them,” he pondered.
Lyv looked away from Peter as she recalled the tribute Peter had slain with his bare hands. “Um… so, Tribute Twenty-two, the one… the one from a few days ago, I think he followed us for a while,” she explained gently. “He could induce nightmares. But don’t worry, Peter. I don’t think they’ll be so bad anymore.”
Peter winced at the mention of the tribute he’d killed. He hadn’t even wanted to think about him, and he knew Lyv deliberately didn’t talk about it to save Peter’s conscience. Still, it felt a little relieving to know that the stretch of terrible sleep and nightmares they’d had wasn’t because of internal issues. It was because of that tribute.
And now he’s dead, and it won’t be an issue.
Peter’s stomach twisted in anxiety – there were so many things that could happen, so many things to say. There were so many things he hadn’t done.
“Lyv, just in case, I just wanted to tell you-”
Before he could finish his sentence, Lyv reached over and gently placed a finger on his lips, interrupting him.
“Peter, stop right there,” she said, her voice soft but firm. “There is no ‘just in case’. We’re going to make it out of here, together. I won’t entertain any thoughts that say otherwise. We’ve come this far.”
Peter stared at Lyv, his eyes reflecting a mixture of gratitude and relief. He nodded, understanding the strength behind his words. A genuine smile tugged at the corners of his lips, and he gently reached out under the sleeping bag to take Lyv’s hand in his own. He didn’t respond, only smiled.
Lyv’s cheeks flushed slightly, a hint of blush coloring her face. She squeezed his hand, mirroring his smile. “You’re stuck with me now, spider-brains. No matter what happens, you can’t get rid of me,” she teased, her voice laced with affectionate sarcasm. She snuggled up closer to Peter’s body, the touch keeping him far warmer than any body heat could.
In that moment, underneath the scintillating stars, with their fingers and hearts intertwined, they found solace in each other. The uncertain path before them filled with death and looming shadows seemed a little less daunting, knowing that they would face it together. Peter’s earlier promise to himself to protect Lyv now expanded to include himself, for he realized that his own survival held an equal importance – for her sake. The Avengers, once Peter’s lifeline and family, now felt like distant echoes and fairy tales from another universe. They were light-years and galaxies away, irrelevant in this moment that was defined by the profound connection between Peter and Lyv. All that matters was here and now.
Under the stars, they fell asleep hand-in-hand.
Peter swung through the city alongside the team, their powers intertwined in a symphony of strength. The rush of wind against his face, the exhilaration sensation of swinging through the city, it all felt so vivid, so real. The team moved with seamless coordination as they battled villain after villain, threat after threat. His muscles rippled with strength. This was his element.
Here, Peter’s heart swelled with a sense of belonging. The weight of the world seemed a little lighter when he was with the team. They were not just his team, but his family. This was a moment of pure bliss, a taste of his own personal slice of heaven. But as good things often did for Peter, it took a turn.
The sound of Thor’s thunder abruptly merged with the discordant symphony of a broken sewer line below him, shattering the dream’s ambiance. The burbling noise pierced through the air, interrupting the harmony and signaling a jarring shift in reality.
Peter’s eyes snapped open, his heart racing as the blinding light of day engulfed his senses. A surge of panic coursed through his veins as he realized the burbling sound was not a mere product of his dream. With a sudden sense of urgency, Peter turned towards Lyv, only to discover her several yards away, a chilling trail etched in the snow where she had been forcibly dragged on her slumber. She was laying on the ground under several figures with their backs to Peter.
The burbling was the sound of Lyv choking on her own blood.
The sound of her struggle shattered the dream’s illusion and plunged Peter into reality – SHE WAS CHOKING ON HER OWN BLOOD. Her hands scratched at her throat and her body writhed as she attempted to breath.
“Oh, look, the little spider-bitch is awake.”
Peter’s world spun in a chaotic frenzy as panic and grief threatened to overcome him. Numbness spread through his limbs, his heart weighed heavy at his chest, and every bone and muscle and brain cell in his body screamed at him. DANGER-RUN-HIDE-FIGHT, DANGER-RUN-HIDE-FIGHT, DANGER-RUN-HIDE-FIGHT
With a final gesture, Lyv’s head fell to the side, her eyes locking onto Peter’s. In that desperate moment, all she could convey was a silent plea, her wordless mouth forming the single command: “RUN”.
Before any of the figures could make a move, Peter’s senses defied his screaming consciousness, his aching heart and forced him to scramble out of the sleeping bag and begin sprinting through the snow as fast as he could. He heard shouts and cheers and cries behind him as the hunt began. Arrows whizzed by him, but Peter’s body jerked him out of the way without fail every time. Branches lashed at his face, and the frigid air clawed at his skin, but the pain was a distant echo. Lyv was dead Lyv was dead Lyv was dead –
Peter’s heightened senses, hone through countless battles, cut through the mental strife like a sharpened blade, urging him to focus. The chorus of tributes echoed behind him, but none possessed his speed. Peter’s realization turned his stomach: they reveled in this hunt, releasing the prospect of tiring him out and having him beg for his life before they delivered the final blow.
He ran, his legs burning with exhaustion, the world reduced to a blur of white. Time blurred, lost in the relentless sprint. Minutes felt like years, each stride a reminder of everything he’d been through and everything ahead of him. Their taunts and jeers blurred, their voices twisted and distorted in his broken ears.
Gradually, the treeline loomed ahead, and Peter pushed himself beyond the forest he’d called home for twenty-four days, reentering the vast expanse of snow that had given birth to him. With the Cornucopia to his right and an intricate maze of icy walls and spires straight ahead, a glimmer of hope emerged. If he could reach the maze, he might find a chance to lose them, to elude their relentless pursuit.
He sprinted across the icy expanse. Peter didn’t even realize he’d been crying until his tears started to freeze in the unforgiving, whipping wind of the mostly flat landscape. The other tributes called out behind him, mocked him, made fun of Lyv’s death, but Peter tuned all of it out as his senses all focused on surviving. He sprinted with every ounce of strength left in his failing body, teetering on the brink of collapse. Hunger gnawed at him, a constant reminder of his weakened state. He had barely recovered from his debilitating fever, and now this – a brutal race for his life.
Eventually, Peter made it to the labyrinth.
He had put a good amount of distance between him and the other tributes, but he was too easy to track from his footprints in the snow. Glancing wildly left and right, Peter decided to head right into the labyrinth. As he ran, twisting and turning through the icy walls and spires, the cries and hunting cheers of the tributes chasing him echoed and bounced off the walls all around him. These were the people who killed Lyv. These were cold-hearted, brutal murderers –
Peter was going to kill them all.
No, Peter. That’s not who you are. Don’t play their game. A voice of reason. It sounded like Lyv.
No longer having the advantage of sprinting in a straightaway, the cheers seemed to grow closer, though it was difficult to discern with Peter’s dulled senses and the echoes bouncing around the icy and stone walls and spires around him.
Panic threatened to overwhelm him until he stumbled upon an imposing stone wall, bringing him to an abrupt halt. It was a dead end – a cruel twist of fate. The pursuing tributes would turn the corner at any moment, sealing his fate in a deadly confrontation.
Or…
Peter turned back to the wall. He gazed up at its tall expanse. It was tall, that was for sure. He estimated it to be around 500 feet.
He glanced back. It was either this, or face them defenseless and injured.
Peter began to climb the wall. His hands and feet gripped the stone surface easily, and Peter began to crawl up the wall with blinding speed. He heard the echoes stop and become more solid, indicating that the tributes had turned the corner. Peter was about fifty feet up now, and arrows began to clank against the stone uselessly below him. He didn’t look down, and only focused on the top.
“Where you going, Parker?” A voice called out, full of condescension.
“You can’t run from us, spider-bitch!”
Peter ignored the jeers and continued to crawl upwards. He had to be at least three-hundred feet up now, scaling this wall at blinding speed-
Oh.
Oh no.
Peter’s hand slipped.
Peter’s heart leaped out of his chest as he plummeted down the wall, his screams blending with the laughter of his pursuers. Miraculously, he managed to reach out to the wall and just barely regain his grip, pulling himself back and panting heavily from the close call. He glanced upward, only to realize that the upper half of the wall was coated in a thick layer of ice.
Peter couldn’t stick to ice.
He was trapped.
He glanced back down. There were four tributes below him. Peter recognized Two, Four, and Five, but he didn’t recognize the fourth tribute. The Career pack had found him, and Lyv was dead because of it. They all stood below him, crossing their arms and glancing at each other. It must be too high to use their powers, Peter thought to himself. He glanced back up and climbed as close as he could to the ice, trying to stay as far away from them as possible.
He had no idea what he was going to do.
Below him, the tributes began to talk amongst themselves. Peter could just barely hear their distorted voices.
“He has to eat at some point, right? He’ll come down, or he’ll get too weak to stay up there. Either way, he’s toast. That’s two-hundred feet of ice above him. No way he’s getting up that.”
“Brogned, think you can go up that far?”
“Not up stone, idiot. Can you just go around teleporting three-hundred feet into the air? No? That’s what I thought, Five. We’ll wait him out.
Peter’s stomach twisted. They were going to wait him out.
At least it granted Peter a momentary reprieve, time to gather his thoughts, bury Lyv deep away in a place he could unpack later, and devise a plan. But the realization of his predicament settled in his gut like a stone. They had him cornered, and his options were rapidly dwindling. He was trapped, but he refused to surrender.
He’d find a way to get out of this.
For her.