through the glass;

George Benson. 30. Currently living in District Thirteen. Former Victor. Former captive. Engaged to Erica Bradshaw. Recovering.

[eribradshaw]

“Lachlan and Lennox,” She nodded absently at his remark, repeating her brother’s names as though she was liable to forget. In a way, maybe she might. After all, half of her family had died already, one of them a brother she held as dear as the ones that had survived. “They’re good kids.” They’re not really kids anymore, though. A pause, a sharp intake of breath and she was reaching for the flowers George was holding. “These should go in—” It was then that she realised that her hand had clasped over the top of his, and without fully thinking it through, her arm snapped back to her chest. “— water,” She quickly finished, trying to keep herself composed. “… These should go in some water.”

[george-benson]

“Right,” He nodded earnestly, taking great care not to allow himself to be too hurt by her reluctance to touch him even in the most absent ways. He understood, really, he did. The doctors had explained it to him one way or another so many times he was sure he was an expert in his own case by that point, he knew he’d scared her, and he knew it would take time for them to work things out. If they ever managed to do it. “I’ll just—” He gestured awkwardly, taking a few long, quick steps to the first sink he laid eyes on, staring at the flowers intently to avoid looking at Erica. Breathe. He exhaled slowly, finding the closest thing to a vase he could in a brief scan of the room and filling it with water. He dropped the flowers into it and stared at them, holding it out to Erica bashfully, like a child hoping for praise at the completion of a good deed. “Uh, here. I hope they’re okay.”

[eribradshaw]

“You don’t have to,” Erica replied quietly, her hand moving from the door to jerkily reach out to George, dropping it immediately after she thought about her action. Touching George still feel like a foreign concept. It had been too long since she had that she’d forgotten what it had felt like. She wasn’t even sure if she was ready, or wanting to remember. Retracting the hand completely, she stepped back into her apartment and opened the door a little wider for her visitor in an unspoken ‘Come in’.

[george-benson]

George watched her passively as she reached for him, and he made no move to catch her hand before it dropped. They were both out of practice, that much was clear, and he was constantly anxious at the prospect of attempting to get back to where they’d been before the War. “Okay,” He tilted his head in the slightest of nods and stepped into the apartment, searching absently for a place to leave the flowers - if only to give himself something to do. “I met your brothers—” He paused abruptly, wondering if that was the right way to start things. “They seem like nice kids.”

[eribradshaw]

Erica had officially found herself a place to stay in which she was rarely bothered, and she rarely left— which suited her just fine. She had come to move less, eat less, talk less, and because of that the little apartment was her haven. Holly, the twins and Flora were her only visitors aside from the odd old ‘friend’, but could she call them friends when she never made an effort to be one to them? And she supposed if she was any sort of good big sister, she’d make the four kids move in with her so she could take care of them. But she wasn’t, that was the truth of it. She was a recluse, who’d lost most of herself in the Arena and violence.

Today was different. As she struggled to push herself out of her chair to stand, she heard a tap at her door. Odd, especially considering she wasn’t expecting a visitor. Slowly, she inched herself over and opened the door, her expression barely changing as she realised who was there.

“George,” She murmured quietly, licking her lips and shifting her weight from one foot to the other. It took her a full minute to process everything the man in front of her said, her mind preoccupied with flashes and memories of George Benson that had long since past. “You want to talk.”

[george-benson]

He swallowed roughly, shifting on the balls of his feet for a solid thirty seconds before he found it in himself to respond. “Honestly, we really don’t have to. I wanted to see you.” He admitted, holding up the flowers as though they’d save him in any way if she wasn’t happy to see him. “I brought these, but I think they’re more of an excuse than anything and if you don’t want them, well... that’s alright.” His eyes drifted away from her to the toes of his battered shoes and he took a breath, he hated being nervous. Hated feeling anxious where he should have been comfortable. 

There were no other situations in his life at present that set him more on edge than being around Erica, though now that was less to do with the hijacking and more with the fact that he didn’t know how to act around her anymore. He was sure she was dealing with the same issues, and he hated that he could remember seeing her when he was at his worst. When she was scared to be anywhere near him and it was painfully obvious in everything she did. 

He stepped back, trying to give himself some distance. Or maybe he was trying to give her distance, he couldn’t be sure. He felt out of place, and every second that passed made him more and more certain that he probably shouldn’t have come. “I can go,” He glanced up to meet her eyes for a brief moment, settling his gaze somewhere past her shoulder when his eyes dropped again. 

[george-benson]

It had taken weeks. Week after week of treatments that felt endless to him, he was starting to resent them a little, somewhere in the back of his mind (on days when he could actually process more than a few things at a time without much trouble). He was only slightly relieved that he’d gotten to the point where he could actually think about Erica for a few moments at a time without the painfully familiar knot settling low in his stomach. That in and of itself was a victory as far as he was concerned. Every day that he couldn't see her made him more and more restless, and when the day finally came that someone admitted he could probably try to be around her again, he jumped at it. 

That was how he’d found himself standing in front of her room, poised to knock with a bouquet of flowers in his other hand. He wasn’t sure how the hell anyone had managed to get them for him, and he was sure Erica wouldn’t like them anyway. But it felt a little more normal to him. A little more stable. (He wasn’t going to analyze the psychological benefits of fucking sunflowers when he felt like his chest was going to explode.) 

He took a breath, a slow, shuddering motion that felt far too loud for the quiet hallway he’d found himself in. All he had to do was knock. One time, and then hope she’d answer. It wasn’t complicated, or difficult to carry out in theory, but he felt like he could throw up at any given moment and he wouldn’t have been surprised in the slightest.

Finally, he tapped out a tune on the door, something quick before he jerked his hand away and swallowed nervously, feeling every bit like a nervous little boy on his first date. “It’s me,” He cleared his throat softly, “It’s George. Uh, I f-feel— I feel okay today. I was hoping we could talk.”

[eribradshaw]

Fine. Alive. As you can see.

[george-benson]

That doesn't always mean the same thing. 

... You think we'll get past this?

[eribradshaw]

… Stay away from me. It’s hard to know which… you I should expect. Just— stay there. Please.

[george-benson]

Please don't be scared— I know, I wish I could fix that. I feel okay right now, you don't have to believe me and I won't move, but. I feel okay.

How... How are you?

[eribradshaw]

What on Earth do you want?

[george-benson]

I was just— I mean, I only wanted to— wow, I don't remember it being this difficult. I wanted to say hello.

[george-benson]

"Can I help you? I wasn't planning on having any staring contests today, but I will. If that's what you're looking for." 

[kimtitaess]

[eribradshaw]

"Okay," Erica replied, dubiously, choosing not to say anything else as the boy fumbled his way through his little train of thought. It was a survival technique, really. She’d learnt to keep quiet around his kind. It never worked, though. Something about her always gave away the fact that she loathed the Capitol, the Games, Victors and Careers in all their ‘glory’. It was hard not to see, in the way that she talked, looked, acted. And she supposed with all of that in mind, it was hard to ignore the fact that she was very much ready to hate this boy in front of her.

She would have scoffed at his words, had she not felt the exact same way. Well, actually, she was likely to scoff at them anyway. Erica had always been a raging hypocrite. This time, however, what she let out was something between an amused (and very unladylike, Sera would say) snort and a light chuckle. Erica appreciated George’s blunt statement, truthfully. Not one person in the Capitol would ever say something like that. It was like a breath of fresh air for her and she supposed she wasn’t going to find someone else like that for miles. Even if he did have a rather stupid looking face… Seriously, what was up with that?

"… I’m Erica," She finally caved, and introduced herself. "Erica Bradshaw. I hate these stupid parties, too."

[george-benson]

"Erica," He repeated to himself, it was an easy name to remember and he was sure it wouldn't take him long to do so, especially not when she exuded a kind of obvious apathy that he'd hardly ever seen in the Capitol to begin with. "Who convinced you to come to this one?" He asked curiously, toeing at the ground lazily as he spoke. He'd been practically forced into his suit and Drenan had all but threatened to break his arm if he wouldn't attend the function without a fuss. Of course, it'd given him all the more reason to want to punch the older man in the throat and how either of them interacted without injury was such a mystery to him. "I tried not to come, but apparently that's rude." He rolled his eyes in exasperation, "Dunno why it would be, I didn't ask them to throw me a stupid party." He huffed. "And I hate suits, who even thought these were comfortable?"

He was griping now, plain and simple, but it was true— living in an orphanage didn't offer him all that many opportunities to attend parties and he was more or less painfully awkward around the people throwing them. Had Erica not been around, he was sure he'd have chalked this one up to being stupidly uncomfortable for no reason and gone on with his time in the Capitol without much of a fuss. Not that that would have been any different than usual, he was never really one to complain outwardly about anything. 

"Are you having any fun at all?" He quirked an eyebrow curiously, "I find poking fun at their outfits passes the time."

[eribradshaw]

Sera had dragged Erica along to this particular party; her trips to the Capitol were as few as possible, but she hadn’t been able to think up an excuse to weasel her way out of this one, this time. Of course, she’d protested, rather loudly, at the thought of being dressed up once again for a party that she rather cared nothing about, but there was no dissuading her. So standing in a dress that was far too shimmery for her liking in the middle of a room full of people that she despised, Erica Bradshaw made sure to keep her scowl on her face in order to let Sera know that though she may have won this battle, she was still going to make sure that people knew that she did not want to be there.

She really wished Sinclair was here. At least she’d have someone to talk to that she liked. Of course, the old man was able to worm his way out of these things and deprive her of decent conversation. She, on the other hand, was hot news— still. Erica was the first person from Eleven to win in over ten years. As if that was something to be proud of. She scowled at the thought, again, and began to wonder if she could slip away from this fancy dress fiasco early.

Lost in that thought, Erica barely noticed the boy looking over at her. In fact, she barely noticed him approach her, only turning to look to him as he started to stutter out a greeting. ”— Benson,” She finished his name for him. “District 2. Sixty Fourth Games Victor.” Erica recognised George Benson from the countless replays of the latest Games almost immediately and relayed off his quick facts without realising. Her guard was always up, even more so for Career Victors and so she carefully allowed her expression to become neutral. Of course, she also had to remain polite. He was, after all, the newest member of the sickest hall of fame in history. “To what do I owe this pleasure?” Her tone was soft, with just a touch of frost to let him know that she was not someone to be toyed with.

[george-benson]

He blinked in the face of her immediate pronouncement of facts, it wasn't difficult for him to recognize the immediate tension that settled in everyone's shoulders as soon as they realized he was from Two and he felt the familiar sinking feeling that settled like a rock in the pit of his stomach at the sight. Just once, he thought absently, just once he wanted someone to look at him and just see the awkward kid who was still growing into his skin for Christ's sake. Whose hands were still too big for his frame, the kid who was so terrified of screwing up he hardly ever spoke to anyone in the city that exalted him, the kid who'd volunteered to take his brother's place because there was nothing else he could have done. Just once, he wanted people to meet him and see a person. 

"I hate these stupid parties—" He blurted out suddenly, frowning as though he couldn't quite believe that's what had come out of his mouth. It wasn't a lie, he was profoundly uncomfortable when surrounded by all of the people who expected him to be impressive because he was from a Career district. He wondered how disappointed they were when they gazed upon him in all of his lanky, awkward glory. Some people didn't mind all that much, if his most recent meeting with the Levines were anything to go by. He swallowed convulsively, offering Erica another smile, this one slightly more relaxed than the first, "I just wanted to say hello," He amended his earlier outburst as diplomatically as he possibly could, "There's hardly anyone our age here."

He cleared his throat, "And quite frankly, if I have to hear one more person talk about what a 'striking young man' I am, I might shoot myself in the foot." He deadpanned dryly— his sense of humor was often lost on the people in the Capitol, who could hardly imagine any reason at all why he shouldn't like being exactly where he was. It was a saving grace for him though, he relied on it to catch people off-guard and give him time to actually breathe long enough to function like a normal human being. "So, really, the pleasure's all mine. You're saving me from an earlier grave."

[george-benson]

This is a terrible idea, an absolutely fucking terrible—

"Georgie!" 

The aforementioned boy turned on the spot with a vague grimace darkening his otherwise cheerful aspect. His grimace faded minutely before he managed something that looked more like a pained expression than anything that resembled a smile as he stared back at the burly man who'd taken it upon himself to be George's mentor. "Hello, Drenan." He greeted meekly, adjusting the collar of his suit jacket anxiously before his fingers tapped out a nervous beat on the fabric, "Could you please," He began softly, "Could you please not call me 'Georgie'?"

The older man simply grinned and ruffled George's hair, mussing up the carefully coiffed locks that he'd had to spend three hours sitting perfectly still to let stylists put it into place. George resisted the urge to pout as his eyes drifted among the faces of the folks milling around them at the stupid Capitol party a few of the younger Victors had been roped into attending. There was a girl three feet away who looked just as put out about the party as George did, though he was sure he wasn't quite so obvious about his displeasure— Drenan never seemed to stop telling him how impeccable his manners were, he figured that didn't take much considering Drenan was three sticks short of a bundle.

He remembered the girl's name vaguely, he was sure someone had introduced them before but he was also sure she wouldn't remember him— he tried his best to blend into the background in the Capitol. "D-Drenan," He stammered shortly, flushing at the sound of his voice and scolding himself for perpetually sounding like a twelve-year-old. "Who's that?" He raised a hand to point at the girl as discreetly as he possibly could. The older man quirked an eyebrow, "Her? Erica something, I think. One of the newest kids from Eleven. Terrible mouth on 'er." He grinned crookedly, in a way that made George want to punch him in the mouth. 

Finally, he took a deep breath and crossed the short distance to the girl, smiling shyly. "Uh, h-hi. I'm George."

[i-love-stelena]

[george-benson]

Spoils of War → PARA 007

[eribradshaw]

When George’s arms tugged her closer to him, Erica nearly gasped. His face tucked neatly in the crook of her neck and it was all she could do to wrap her own arms around his broad shoulders. His laughter sounded so odd, so out of place- but not unwelcome. The solidness that was George Benson was definitely not unwelcome. He laughed, and even Erica couldn’t help but join in. She laughed, too, laughed and laughed until at some point they both ended up with tears dripping down their cheeks. Licking her lips, she tasted the saltiness and quickly moved a hand to wipe them away. “I-” Erica sniffed lightly and began to try to talk, trying to think of the best answer she had for her fiancé.

"Let’s get out of the street." So, she walked with him. Her apartment was close by, and her feet thanked her for living so near to the station. It was a small place, only really for one person. Then again, that’s all she’d needed. One corner was kitted out with what ‘baby’ supplies she had been able to get her hands on.

George’s apology all but fell on deaf ears as she fell into her thoughts. It was supposed to be a happy day, the day that he’d come back. The ‘I love you’s echoed in her head and she blinked a few times, allowing herself to come back to the present.

"I know." Erica said, instead of the three words she’d been dying to say to him since… well. Since her death in the Arena. It was sick to think about, even now. It would be sick to think about of the rest of her life. Her heart had stopped beating, her brain had stopped firing synapses- she had died. But she was still here, walking, talking, breathing- even goddamn well looking after another human being.

"I could love them," She started, hand on her belly again, after a long moment. "This- kid. I wouldn’t have given them up. I couldn’t have." It wasn’t a lie. This baby- her baby, she had to keep reminding herself, was the only link she’d had to George. She could never have given up, lost or done without her child. It was a selfish reason, though, and she wished she’d had the strength in the last nine months to love the baby, too. But she hadn’t. The war, her losses, her almost complete loneliness had drained her of any positive feeling.

[george-benson]

George tried not to let her reluctance to say "I love you" upset him, it really shouldn't have mattered in that moment - he should have been able to push it to the side and ignore it, compartmentalize and wait to deal with it until he had some time to do so. He smiled thinly, even saying he loved her felt hollow when he couldn't even tell her why he'd had to leave. Well, that wasn't entirely true, he could tell her - he could tell her and lose her just like that and he'd deserve it. At least in his mind, he would. He resolved to tell her as soon as the moment felt right, but the moment now, when his thoughts were mostly filled with her and their unborn child, it wasn't the right time. 

"I didn't think you would." He muttered simply, the thought had never even occurred to him. He felt confident in the fact that he knew Erica well, and he knew how much she cared about her own family - it made sense that she would care about her own child more than a lot of things. Even if he'd known before he'd had to leave, he never would have entertained the idea that Erica would give up the baby, it just wasn't in her nature. He couldn't seem to find the right words, everything seemed to get stuck somewhere in his throat before he could get it out and he stepped closer, taking her hand gently before he rested his forehead on the top of her head. 

The silence felt like the best thing for both of them, and it settled around them easily - he didn't feel the need to speak, to break the silence at any point. It had always been the way he'd felt around her and it felt magnified now that he'd been away from her for so long. "I'm kind of surprised you haven't hit me for anything yet," He mumbled suddenly, kissing the top of her head lightly after he'd spoken. He wasn't being malicious, just stating a fact, he'd expected a much more violent reaction to his return considering how suddenly he'd left to begin with. 

[george-benson]

Spoils of War → PARA 007

[eribradshaw]

Wife.

That word was still a relatively new one. She’d said it to herself a few times, in the early months of George’s absence. She’d promised that if things went south, if she never saw the man again, she would change her name. Pretend like it had actually happened. With her heart in her mouth, she took a glance around. The crowd seemed to disperse once George all but wrapped himself around her. His hand passing over her stomach made her chest explode with butterflies and, not for the first time, she cursed the day she ever developed feelings for this man.

"I know." Just as he didn’t dare really grasp her hands, Erica felt almost scared to take his, herself. It felt too unreal, too good to be true. The last nine months really had been one cruel joke after another. One more raid. One more interrogation. One more day of captivity. It was in the last month that she’d been essentially released, free to travel back to her own District, and find a home for herself. Question was, where could she stay there? The riots in Eleven, from before the Quarter Quell, had left her wondering how much family she had left. Were her parents alive? Her siblings? Her uncles, aunts, cousins- she had been looking after them as best she could for over fifteen years, now. And so, for the first time in all those years, selfishly, she refused to go back. She knew that at least someone would be lost. At least someone would be injured, sick. There would be questions for her, too. Questions that she couldn’t answer. The answers would have been too much to face.

George led her away from the station, and she numbly followed. The Capitol was overly familiar at this point and she despised that she knew without really paying attention exactly where she was going. Somewhere along the line, the wrecked city had become her new home. Nothing could have disgusted her more. “Small place. Not far.” She mumbled, but made no move to start walking again. George’s hand was on her stomach again, she did her best not to react. ”I’m pregnant,” She replied, dully, as her gaze dropped to her midsection. It wasn’t like she needed to go into the specifics. The evidence was plainly there. “It’s yours.” Erica wasn’t sure why she added the last bit- who else was it going to belong to?

[george-benson]

George laughed.

He couldn't help it. He buried his face in her neck and laughed until there were tears streaming down his cheeks and everything felt a little more manageable, like it would be okay as long as he never let go of her again. As long as they were together. He pulled away after a long moment, wiping at his eyes as he studied Erica with a half smile that made the corners of his eyes crinkle. "Are you--" He paused, unsure how to phrase the question. He wanted to be happy about the baby, happy about the fact that he was going to have a family with the woman he was so madly in love with, but he had no idea how she felt about it. And reacting without knowing that simple fact didn't sit well with him. "How do you feel about it?" He asked finally, reaching out to trace his thumb across her cheek, like he still couldn't grasp the fact that she was okay. 

As he waited for her to answer, he started walking again, eager to be able to have the conversation in something that resembled privacy. Finding her place again was like doing something he'd been doing for years, all memory and nothing but ease - still, it felt odd to be in the Capitol and know that no one was going to try to hurt either of them again simply to prove a point. Knowing that they'd finally gained the kind of freedom they'd been craving for years was a heady feeling, and he was determined to appreciate it. Later, when he wasn't so focused on his fiancée.

He took a slow breath when they finally entered the apartment Erica had been living in, well, the one she was living in. It was her home for the time being, and George didn't have the energy to ask her if she wanted to come and live with him in Two - that would be a conversation for another day. It had to be. "I love you... I just want you to know that. I'm so... sorry, that I had to leave you." He announced softly, he'd explain everything to her if that's what she wanted, but before he said anything - he needed her to know those things. He could only hope she knew how sincere he was, how much he meant everything he was saying. The thought that she might not terrified him, and everything was already so confusing. "I love you so much, Eri."

[george-benson]

Spoils of War → PARA 007

[eribradshaw]

Erica was tiny, especially compared to most of the people standing on the platform. In any other situation, though, she might have barged her way to the front, demanded attention and ultimately seemed bigger that she was. Grimacing at the cruel irony behind that thought as she was jostled slightly by the others around her, Erica did her best to keep to herself. Maybe she was growing soft, she mused as the time ticked down. That was entirely plausible, especially given her circumstances.

The train she was waiting for would be here soon. Pressing a hand to her not-so-flat stomach, she swallowed hard and looked to the railway, following the snaking track until it became nothing, just a speck against the landscape of the city that had become her prison. Staring at the particular spot, she noticed a flash-

Train.

People began to push forward, slightly. Feeling a sudden surge of her old spark, she mustered the strength to elbow people back and away from her. “Watch the pregnant lady,” She growled at everyone within earshot. Sure enough, a few backed up. Some just didn’t care. The carriages pulled up, one by one and without realising, Erica was beginning to search for that one familiar face. The reason she was here, today. She caught a glance, she pushed forward- and then suddenly, there he was. Right in front of her. She almost couldn’t process this. This had to be a Capitol trick. A new form of torture. But he was speaking, he was breathing, he was being. And yet, Erica still wondered if she reached out to him, would he really be there?

"I missed you." She forced the words out, her voice thick. It wasn’t like it was a lie. She’d just never had to say those words to anyone in her life. Anyone who left her, left for good.

Erica honestly wanted nothing more than to yell at the man in front of her, hit him, ask him why he had left her like that for so goddamn long. She wanted to make a scene, she wanted to cry, she wanted to do everything that the Erica before the Quarter Quell would have done. What was she supposed to do? To want to do? Hug him? Kiss him? Act like he hadn’t left? Yeah- she wasn’t entirely sure she could do any of that right now. Folding her arms slightly defensively over her chest, she nodded once at George, not sure what else to do.

[george-benson]

Trying to process everything going on around them all at once was something of an insurmountable ordeal, and the only thing he could focus on was the fact that there were throngs of people getting closer and closer to them. "Will everyone please get the hell away from my wife?" He growled loudly, shoving a few people for good measure before he stepped in front of her protectively, his hand drifting towards her stomach without much thought. He almost couldn't grasp the fact that she was pregnant, it had been the first thing he'd noticed when he'd taken the time to look at her and he wanted to be excited about it, he truly did but it was almost like the shock had knocked any possibility of that straight out of his system.

Apologizing felt like it would be hollow, but he wanted to do it, he wanted to tell her how very sorry he was that he'd had to leave her, that he'd deserted her during a time she genuinely needed him because he'd done something he hadn't even told her about. A thread of remorse was starting to creep up through all of the other emotions battling in him and he frowned deeply, reaching for Erica's hands like he just couldn't believe she was real. Like the thought of her standing in front of him, alive and healthy was some twisted joke or trick of the light or his imagination running wild. 

His hands had started to shake and he trailed his fingers over her knuckles gently, as though he was worried she'd break if he really got hold of her. "I'm sorry," He croaked finally, it wasn't enough and he guessed it never would be but it was the only thing that felt right to say. The only thing that didn't feel like too much or not enough or just wrong in general.

He wanted to hug her properly, and explain everything that had happened right then and there but he couldn't. Instead, he adjusted his tenuous grip on her hand and started walking, leading her away from the station and the crowds of people and further into the Capitol city he hadn't seen in months. He tried to focus, tried not to let his eyes drift to the bombed out buildings or the ever present construction projects going on in one corner or another or the people milling around who looked like they were either rebels or not, there didn't seem to be much in between.

"Where are you staying?" He stopped walking, finally, angling himself until he could look down and meet Erica's eyes. Every instinct he had was screaming, telling him to just stop and hold her for a while but he was determined to wait, neither of them were quite ready for that - although he imagined their reasoning would be quite different overall. His hand drifted to her stomach again, and he pressed his palm to her belly gently, glancing down at his hand with a smile that was half disbelieving, "You're pregnant," It was a stupid thing to say, he knew it, but he still couldn't stop thinking about it and it was the only thing he could manage. 

[george-benson]

Spoils of War → PARA 007

The war hadn't lasted as long as everyone had imagined it would, he wondered quite often why they'd have wanted it to drag on any longer than it had. Months was enough. Months was all it had taken to rip apart the entire country, and on the heels of the war they were all struggling to settle into some new dynamic that didn't feel like the Panem of their memory. For his part, George wanted to return to his home in District Two as soon as humanly possible, with one hopefully meaningful stop along the way. 

They'd repaired the train tracks that spanned the country enough to send renovation materials to various places and his fingers tapped out a nervous beat on his thighs - sitting on the edge of an open freight car wasn't particularly relaxing to begin with but it was his destination that made him anxious. He hadn't stepped foot in the Capitol since the war had begun and he wondered whether he would even have bothered if Erica hadn't potentially been there. He shook his head at the thought, she had to be there, he didn't know what he'd do if she wasn't - although no one had been very forthcoming with news either way. 

A handful of people tried to speak to him as the train drew closer to the Capitol but he'd become mute during the short ride and seemed not to hear anyone until someone was tapping at his shoulder to tell him they'd arrived. Stepping into the train station again felt like some awkward coming of age and he scanned the waiting faces in the crowd with a lump in his throat, picking Eri's face out of the crowd wasn't difficult and he pushed through the crowd without a word until he was standing in front of her.

"I missed you."