Notes: This story involves headcanon created by my friend azelmaroark and expanded on by the both of us. One of the amazing things about The Hunger Games is how much room there is for headcanon because Katniss' POV is so limited in her knowledge and introspection. This fandom is a great place to play around in, but even so, I find myself disagreeing with most portrayals of the Careers I've seen. Either they're straight-up monsters or they're misunderstood brainwashed woobie babies. My personal headcanon is that you can be murderer and victim both, and that this dichotomy is what makes the Careers so fascinating. This story is an exploration of that.

Prologue: Coming Home

He can't feel his feet. Claudius tries to curl his toes inside his boots, something to do with blood flow - that's what you do, right, your blood needs to keep moving and if it stops moving you die? - but he can't tell if they obey. He made a misstep earlier in the parking lot, stepped in what he thought was solid snow but turned out to be a half-frozen puddle, and the water soaked through his boots and socks. He stole the boots from an outside display when the first snow fell back in November, but it's near the end of January now and he tore the soles the time that a freak storm hit and he had to run down the mountain to avoid a rock slide.

It was almost fun in the summer. Not real fun, not super fun, but at least when the weather was nice it was easier. He could sleep under the stars and pretend he was camping, and lots of people left their back doors open to allow for a breeze - not too many bugs up in the mountains - so he could sneak in and crash on people's couches before they woke up. All he had to do to take a shower was sneak into a public pool, and there were fairs and festivals and it was easy to snatch food from open stalls.

Fall means school, which on one hand means having to sit and listen to things Claudius doesn't care about but has to memorize anyway, and kids who make fun of him for his shaggy hair and quickly-wearing clothes. But at the same time it means a place where he can stay for the whole morning, even in bad weather, and nobody asks him what he's doing or where his parents are. At lunch Claudius weaves his way through the classrooms and the yards, asking other kids if they're going to finish that sandwich or do they want that apple, and once he has one thing for free he can trade up for something better, and he usually manages to be full enough by the time it's two o'clock and time to go to the Centre. Nobody ever wants to drink their milk, and Claudius usually gets at least a carton of that without even having to give them something.

Next year he'll get the first strand of his bracelet. Next year he'll be able to start taking other people's lunches if they won't give them to him.

Fall also means apple season, good, crisp apples just hanging from trees. Claudius memorized where all the trees were before the fruit finished ripening, and by the time the apples were round and red and ready to pick, he'd worked out a routine for how to get enough without ever picking too much from one tree at a time. He heard at the Centre that apples have good things like fibre and vitamins and other things that Claudius doesn't know but that kids should be eating. A lot of the houses at the edge of town grow gardens, and so he steals things like potatoes, beans, carrots, and other things he doesn't have to cook. Once he steals a small pumpkin and eats it raw.

Claudius did a pretty good job of living on his own for months, but now it's the dead of winter. Vendors don't sell things on the streets anymore; people lock their doors and seal up all the cracks to keep the cold out, and unfortunately that means it keeps Claudius away, too. The cold seeps into his bones and never seems to leave.

He coughs, and it's wet and rattling in his chest, and once he starts coughing it's really hard to stop. Claudius bends over double, his hands over his mouth, and finally something wet and slimy and salty works its way loose from his throat. He spits it out with relief, because now he's safe for a little while.

It's the weekend, and Claudius is at the playground because there are usually other kids there, playing on the swings and jumping into the snow, or dragging sleds up the small man-made hill. Sometimes if Claudius asks nice they let him have a turn. He sticks to himself, close enough to groups of other kids that people might think he's with them, but not so close that the kids themselves start asking him what he's doing there. Except that his chest has really been hurting the last few days, and if he tries to run he coughs, and his fingers are so cold it's hard to move them.

One of the kids peels off his mittens and tosses them on the snow so he can pack a snowball without it sticking to his hands. His mom scolds him - "Well don't come crying to me when your fingers freeze!" - but turns away to talk to her friend. They're both holding cardboard cups filled with something hot, steaming in the cold air. The kids keep playing.

Claudius edges closer. The mittens are right there, and they're big and chunky and Claudius pretends to trip in the snow and then he has them, and his heart thumps and he's terrified someone will notice and so he edges away from the other kids and then he runs. He doesn't get very far before his lungs give out but he has mittens and it will be okay. It takes him five minutes to get them on over his numbed, cramping fingers.

He's figured out a system to sleep, at least. There's an all-night diner in an okay part of town, not one of the ones where people run around sticking knives into other people but also not where it's clean and shiny and people panic if there's a newspaper on the ground and Peacekeepers carry homeless guys to jail, and Claudius curls up behind it next to the dumpster with a garbage bag. There's a vent connected to the kitchen that blows hot air from the oven, and it keeps him warm enough until morning when the garbage trucks wake him and warn him it's time to run and head for school.

Claudius doesn't remember much of what happens at school the next day. His head hurts, he's prickly and itchy and everything aches, and his eyes feel like they're made out of scratchy wool and somebody's shoved a spiky hairbrush down his throat. He's too hot in his sweater but if he takes it off he starts to shiver.

"Uh-oh honey," says his teacher, and she pushes his hair out of his eyes and presses the back of her hand to his forehead. Her fingers are cool, and Claudius whimpers and has to stop himself from leaning in to the touch. "We should call your parents, have them take you home."

"No," Claudius says, and he forces himself to sit up. "No it's okay. She's at work. I'm going to the Centre after lunch. I'll go to Medical there."

"Well, all right," she says, because nobody messes with the Centre. "Still, I'm going to send you to the nurse's office. You stay there and sleep until it's time." Claudius tries to argue with her but it must not have worked because the next thing he remembers is white sheets.

"I think we should call your parents," says the nurse when Claudius sits up, bleary and dizzy. "You shouldn't go to the Centre like that, you need rest."

Claudius closes his eyes and gives the room five seconds to stop spinning. He grips the edge of the cot and wills himself to steady, and when he puts his feet down on the floor nothing tilts underneath him. "I'm much better now," he says. "It's okay. I'll go back to class, and I'll tell Mom when she comes to pick me up that you said to take me home."

"All right," the nurse says. Claudius smiles at her until he's out of the office, and then he's staggering through the halls to his locker. He grabs his stolen coat, boots, and mittens, shoves himself into them, and stumbles outside. It's still early, but he doesn't think he can walk to the Centre in time if he stays until two.

He's fine, really, after that. The Centre is warm but not too warm, and they're afraid of infections with so many kids in the building so the air is filtered or something, and Claudius does feel better. He drinks from the water fountain until one of the other kids gets impatient and shoves him, and that helps, too. He's fine.

He's fine until they're playing dodgeball, and he has the ball in his hands and it's heavy, way too heavy for something filled with air, and there are kids running and yelling and their shoes squeak against the floor and there's more yelling, yelling at him, someone yelling his name, and he's holding the ball but he can't remember what he's supposed to do with it, and then this time everything does tip over.

White sheets again. Always white. Claudius doesn't like white. They should really change the colours. The sheets are white and the bed is soft and there are things taped to his hands and his arm and voices in the background but at least nobody's yelling and nobody sounds like Her.

" - shouldn't be contagious, but his immune system -"

" - how long do you think -"

" - minor case of frostbite -"

" - insane, how could we have missed -"

" - mother, shouldn't he be -"

"No!" Claudius screams, and his throat is dry and scratchy but he can't, they can't. "Not there! You can't take me there!"

The voices stop. "Can't take you where?" someone asks. "Where don't you want to go?"

"Back there," Claudius rasps, and he knows the word is 'home' but it's not home and it sticks in his throat. "With her. She wouldn't take me anyway. She changed the locks and she said if I tried to break in she'd send me to the Home. The one for the bad kids. Where they know how to treat kids like me." He tries to curl in on himself but there are tubes and things attached to him and he can't, so he turns his face into the pillow. "It's not her fault. I set her plants on fire. She was mad."

"When?" asks the voice again, and it's a lady, a nice lady with a soft voice. She sits next to him and strokes his hair. "When did she change the locks?"

"August," Claudius says to the pillow, his eyes screwed shut. Somewhere above him, a few people make sharp hissing noises, and somebody walks away real fast, their heels hard on the floor. "Don't make me go back. Please."

There's a pause, a quick discussion that Claudius can't understand because his head hurts too much. "You're staying right here," says the lady, and this time her voice is a little harder but it doesn't sound like she's mad at him and that's okay. That's okay. "You're going to stay here and get some sleep."

"Okay," Claudius says, and the sobs that have been building up in his chest and threatening to explode out of his face go away.

"Sleep," she says, and she pets his hair until he does.

They make him stay in bed for days, and Claudius doesn't know what's in the tubes or anything but he sleeps a lot and doesn't even care. He has some crazy dreams at first and wakes up screaming, but once he tells the doctors they put something else into his medicine and the nightmares stop.

Every morning, when the doctor comes to check on him, Claudius asks, "Are you sending me back?"

Every morning, the doctor says, "No."

After a few days they give him actual food to eat, not just the stuff in the IV. Claudius knows it's just hospital food and it doesn't actually taste good, but after months and months of stealing things and going hungry until his stomach growls and tries to eat itself, the soup and wobbly coloured dessert stuff tastes like the best thing he's ever eaten.

One day when Claudius blinks himself awake, it's not the doctor sitting on the chair next to the bed. The last of the tubes are gone now and Claudius is feeling less like somebody tried to make him into floor tiles. "Hi," he says. He recognizes her as a trainer but doesn't know her name.

"Good morning," she says. "Are you feeling better?"

"Yes," Claudius says immediately, because if a trainer asks that question you start doing jumping jacks, but hopefully since he's actually in Medical and until now had stuff stuck in him maybe he'll get a pass. He watches her to make sure, because one sign she thinks he's faking and he's out of here.

"The doctors say you're looking a lot better," she says, which is good. Claudius didn't want to say anything, but he was afraid that maybe the sick had gotten into his lungs for good and maybe he wouldn't be able to train anymore. He has no idea what he'd do if that happened but he knows it's not good. "They've decided it's all right for you to move out of the infirmary."

It takes Claudius a second to realize that 'infirmary' means 'Medical', and when he gets it he has to fight down a wave of fear. Medical - the infirmary - isn't the best place to try to sleep, there are bigger kids with nasty injuries in the other beds, and everything is white and smells so clean it stings his nose, but it's better than the snow, and just because they aren't sending him back to Her doesn't mean he'll like wherever it is he's going.

"Breathe," the trainer says, and Claudius gasps for air. "Tell me what's wrong."

"If I'm not staying here, where am I going?" he asks, and he digs his fingers into the mattress, twisting them in the sheets. He wants to tell her that they promised, but it doesn't seem like a good idea.

"We're looking for someone to take you," she says, and Claudius almost laughs but it's easy to turn it into a cough instead. Nobody is going to take him. She said so. The only people who will take him is the home for the bad kids, and that's just because there's a law that says so. "In the meantime, would you like to have a nicer bed than here?"

Claudius frowns. "What do you mean?"

"We're giving you a room in residential until we find somebody for you," she says, and Claudius opens his eyes wide. "It won't be a big room, and there are no toys in it."

"It's okay," he says immediately. "Really, it's okay. Are you sure? I really get to stay here?"

"Not forever," she says, and Claudius does his best not to let the disappointment show. "This isn't somewhere for kids your age to live. But you need somewhere to stay for now, and at least you can have your own room instead of being here."

It's better than nothing, and if they give him his own room while they're looking then eventually they'll see that Claudius is right. Nobody wants him, no one will take him, and then maybe they'll finally understand that. Maybe if Claudius is really good, really quiet, and doesn't disturb anybody, they'll just let him stay in residential anyway. Thirteen isn't that far away. That's only - he counts on his fingers - six years.

"I've already signed you out at the desk, so we can go now if you're okay to walk," she says, and she smiles when Claudius throws off the blankets and scrambles to his feet. "Here, it's a little colder in the hallways, so take this."

She gives him a sweater. It's not a Centre sweater - they don't have those as part of their training uniforms - and it's not white or cream or any of the other standard colours. It's red and blue in stripes and it's made of warm, soft yarn that doesn't itch Claudius' fingers when he touches it. He looks up at her, confused.

"My son outgrew it last year," she tells him. "You can keep it."

"Did you make it?" Claudius asks as he pulls it over his head, and she chuckles.

"Definitely not, that's not something I'm good at." She tugs the sleeves down over his hands and adjusts the hem. "There you go. Come with me and I'll show you where you're staying."

Claudius has never seen the living quarters before. The little kids stay in a completely different part of the Centre and aren't even allowed in the building. He tries to look mature and like he isn't dying of excitement, but that's hard when his heart is running like they just made him do laps and his legs are a little shaky from being in bed for so long.

She leads him down an empty hallway - the other kids are in training, Claudius guesses - to a room at the very end, and after swiping a card key against the lock, opens the door and lets him in. It's small enough that the bed touches three of the walls, and the only other furniture is a small table and a dresser, but Claudius bounces on his heels anyway. This is residential. He bets no kid under thirteen has ever been here.

The trainer is watching him, and Claudius catches himself and tries to stand still. "I really get to stay here?" he asks, trying to shove down his excitement. He's learned that sometimes when you really, really want something, it gets taken away from you. Sometimes it's better to hold back.

"Until we find you someplace better."

Claudius wraps his arms around himself, letting his fingers run over the soft material of his sweater. "Can't I just stay here then? There isn't anywhere better. Not for somebody like me."

She puts a hand on his shoulder. "Let's get some lunch, and then we can talk about what you mean."

On the way to the cafeteria, she tells him that her name is Laverna, and she's worked at the Centre for over ten years. Claudius counts on his fingers again, and that means that more than one of the kids she saw in training in the 7-9 group like him have gone into the Games. He wonders what that's like, if any of them were victors, but he doesn't think so. She didn't let him watch the Games because she said it would give him ideas, but he thinks he would remember if a Two won anyway.

"We need to get you back up to weight," Laverna says, and she hands Claudius a sandwich that he needs both hands to lift. He stares at it in awe. "While you're eating, why don't we talk about what you said."

Claudius shrugs, though it's difficult with his elbows on the table and his hands full of sandwich. He's trying to use good manners, but it's hard to remember because the sandwich tastes amazing and he doesn't think he's ever eaten one so good. "You're not gonna find anybody," he says, and his shoulders hunch a little but he tries not to let it get to him. "My mom said so. Everybody wants nice, cute kids, and I'm not nice and I'm not cute and when I'm mad I hurt people. She said -"

And yikes, Claudius must still be full of medicine that makes his brain loopy, because normally he knows not to say that. He shoves his mouth full of sandwich and pretends he didn't say anything at all.

Laverna isn't stupid. She waits until he swallows, and then she reaches out and puts her hand on his arm so he can't take another bite. "Tell me what she said."

Claudius sucks in a breath. His heart pounds again, and his whole body feels all trembly. "She said I'm a monster," he says, and he can't look at her. He knows that part is true. Nice boys don't set things on fire. "She said - she said only other monsters would take me. And that's why she sent me here."

Laverna doesn't say anything for a second, and when Claudius finally looks up, she's pressed her lips into a thin line. "Do you believe that?"

Claudius shakes his head so hard he gets dizzy. "Not about you! You're not monsters. You help kids like me. But she was right, other people wouldn't understand me. She doesn't understand me. I don't want to hurt people all the time, it's just when I get mad I do. I get mad and then I hurt people." He frowns. He remembers the interview with the recruiter who came to the house, how mad she was that she couldn't sit in the room with them to make sure he answered right. "I told this to that other guy, um, Ravel? It's in my file."

"I've seen the file, but I still want to talk to you," Laverna says, and Claudius doesn't like reading either and would much rather talk to people so that makes sense. "What if we did find you somewhere? Would you want to go?"

Claudius sinks back down into his chair, kicking at the table leg. "You won't."

"Humour me," she says, and when Claudius frowns, she apologizes. "That means, just pretend for a minute that you believe me. What would you say?"

Claudius clenches his jaw. "When you said you'd take me, they told her she would get money every month. She said she didn't want the money, she just wanted me out of the house. She yells at Jeremy all the time for not making enough because the house has a - a something." It starts with an m, he knows the word if he hears it but he can't remember it. "A mora-something. They need the money. But when I tried to come home she said if she took the money she'd have to take me and they would find another way." He looks away. "Maybe you could find somebody if you paid them more money, I guess."

Laverna shakes her head. "Someone who'd take you for real."

Claudius scowls. He can't help it. "Sure, but I still want to come here. You understand me and there's lots of kids like me and I don't have to - to hide. Or pretend to be good just so somebody will like me." Laverna nods, slowly. "Like, you're not scared of me, right? She was scared. She said anybody would be scared but you're not. That's all I want."

"So, when we find you someone, you still want to stay in the Program?"

"Yes!" Claudius sits up straight. Without thinking he closes his fingers over his wrist, the one where he'll have his bracelet once he finishes his first year. "Yes, I want to stay. I want to stay and train and learn how to be strong and when I'm old enough I'm going to go into the Games and I'm going to win."

Laverna gives him a small smile. "That's thinking very far ahead. For now, why don't I just show you the exercise room? You need to start getting your strength back after being sick."

Three months, four foster families, and two group homes later, Claudius drops to his knees in front of the rehoming committee. "Please," he begs, and he's crying and he knows that Careers don't cry, not even the big kids when they break a bone, but he can't help it. He can't.

At the last group home they asked him how many places he'd been, and another kid laughed at him and said what did he expect, he's ugly and mean and no one will ever want him, not even the killers or they wouldn't keep sending him away, and when they finally pulled Claudius off him his face was a mass of red and white.

"I'll do anything," Claudius begs. "I promise. I'll live in a closet. I'll clean the floors. Just don't send me away again - please."

He cries so hard he has to brace himself with his hands against the floor, and his chest aches and his stomach heaves and he thinks he's going to throw up. He cries until he feels a hand on his shoulder, and he looks up to see Laverna kneeling next to him. "C'mon," she says. "Let's get you to your room."

Claudius gasps when she opens the door. "This isn't mine," he says, heart hammering. And it is his room, that is it's the same door in the same part of the hall, but this room has a soft, red blanket and lots of pillows on the bed, enough that he could make them into a pile and sit and feel warm and cozy. The dresser drawers are open just enough to see that there are clothes in them, not just training uniforms but actual clothes, so he could finally go to school and not get teased. The blue-white bulb in the ceiling light has been changed to something softer, orangey, that glows instead of glares.

"It's not mine," he says. There's a box of things on the table by the bed and his fingers itch to go look in it.

"It is," Laverna says. "The trainers donated some things. You're seven, not thirteen, and there's nowhere else for you to go. If you're going to stay here, you might as well make it home for now."

In that moment, Claudius knows that the Centre is his saviour, and there will only ever be one way to pay them back. Calm soaks through him as though someone cut a hole in his head and slowly poured ice water into it.

One day, Claudius will graduate and become a volunteer. He'll take everything the Centre has given him and show them - show all of Panem - it wasn't a waste. One day, either he will win for them, bring home the crown and the victory and everything, or he'll die doing his best to bring honour and pride to the Centre and District Two.

"Thank you," he says. "I won't let you down. I promise."

"Don't worry about that right now," Laverna tells him. "You just do your best during training and that's all that matters."

"I will," Claudius says. He's never been more sure of anything in his life.

Laverna stays with him, to get him used to living at the Centre. She takes him to school in the mornings and picks him up in the afternoons; escorts him to meals outside of the main times, right at the end of her shift before everyone else eats, so he won't be in the cafeteria with a bunch of angry seventeens. She shows him all over the compound, including the big room with the huge TV where the trainees watch and analyze the Games, the library with all the grownup books but also a whole shelf about the history of Panem in big letters with lots of pictures. She takes him to watch the 10-12 group with weapons training after the 7-9s are finished for the day, and Claudius isn't allowed to join them or touch anything but he can watch and ask questions and she answers him. She tells him to come to her if he has any problems.

Claudius knows it's wrong, but he can't stop wondering if this is what it's like to have a mom.

A few weeks in, Laverna stays late and takes him to the cafeteria while the older kids are eating. "They'll need to get used to seeing you eventually," she tells him, and Claudius swallows hard but holds himself up straight. "I'll wait here while you get your food."

He knows it's a test, to see how he handles being surrounded by thirteens and fourteens and fifteens and sixteens - not the Seniors, they're kept separate from everyone else - and if he starts crying. He's not going to panic. Claudius waits in line like he's not half the size of the next kid in front of him and lets the lady fill his try.

He's almost back to his table when a bigger kid - one of the fourteens at least, he has two red beads on his bracelet and Claudius knows what that means - gets in Claudius' way. "I've heard of you," he says, crossing his arms. "You're the kid so crazy not even the homes will take you."

Claudius narrows his eyes. He knows what she would want him to say - "excuse me", or "please let me through" - but this isn't her house, this is the Centre. "You're in my way," he says. He's careful not to make it snotty, just a statement, because it is.

"Is it true, though? That your parents didn't want you and all the foster homes didn't want you and the orphanages too? That's some deep shit right there."

Claudius wonders if they resent him because he's an exception, and the Centre almost never makes those. His breathing quickens, not because he's scared, but because Laverna is watching, and this might not have started out as a real test but it sure is now. If he makes the wrong answer they might send him away again. The Centre is letting him live here, sure, but that's only as long as he's good enough to stay in the Program.

Claudius looks up at the boy and keeps his face calm. "You've got a red bead," he says, which is clear enough. You've killed people. He's not supposed to know that, not at seven, but it's impossible to live here early and not pick up stuff. Anyway, it's a good thing. Whatever the rumour mill says Claudius has done, it won't be anywhere near as bad as what that kid did to earn that bead.

"Yeah," he says, and he leans down, getting in Claudius' face while still looming over him, and Claudius hates big kids sometimes. He thinks of the big kids in the orphanage and how they thought they were so great just because they were taller. When Claudius is taller he won't be like that. He'll be nice to the littler kids, at least until they stop deserving it. "And you know what? My Ma cried when I left for residential. I heard yours paid the Centre to take you away. You might think you're hot shit just because you're here early, but you know what that means? It just means you're so fucked up nobody wants you, and that makes you more fucked up than everybody else here already. By the time you get out of here, they're gonna have to put you down."

Claudius drops his tray and lashes out before he's finished thinking, feeling the crunch of bone under his fist. The boy falls - nobody ever expects a seven-year-old to fight them really, just like she didn't expect him to pick the lock on her bedroom door and stand by her bed with a knife asking why'd you lock me out mom, are you scared of something mom, just like the Home people didn't think he would hit back when they brought out the belt, and they're all just stupid, stupid, stupid -

"That's enough, Claudius," says Laverna, and Claudius freezes instantly at the command. He blinks, and there's blood on his hands and on his teeth and the bigger boy is moaning on the floor and Claudius isn't sorry, he isn't sorry at all. He knows what dangerous injuries look like, and this isn't one of them. A couple of days and he'll be fine.

"Ha," says another boy, and he has three orange beads but no red ones which means he's still thirteen, animals but no people yet. "Man, I was gonna get on Dart's case for thinking picking on a seven makes him a big man, but uh, I think he got the message." He flings an arm around Claudius' shoulders, and Claudius is still tense from the fight but this kid, at least, doesn't look like he means trouble. He gives Claudius a friendly smile with a dash of wicked in it. "You're all right. Welcome to the club, kid."

Two of the sixteens get Dart up between them, his arms around their shoulders, and start dragging him away to the infirmary. Claudius looks around, wary, to see if anyone is going to turn on him next, but they all seem to think the boy got what he deserved.

Laverna winks at him, then picks up her tray and takes it to the counter. "See you at training," she says to Claudius, and he realizes with a jolt that she's decided he's all right, that he doesn't need a handler anymore.

For a second Claudius is tempted to burst into tears or something just to convince her to stay, but the urge passes. The whole point of the Centre is that things change; the trainees grow, move on. They're supposed to be loyal to the Centre, not to specific people in it.

It's time to grow up. Claudius turns back to the new boy. "So what do you guys do for fun?"

Note: Next chapter, we skip forward 10 years.