In Order to Survive
Chapter 10

Disclaimer: This work of fan-fiction is not intended for personal profit. All characters utilized herein which are not creations of myself belong to Suzanne Collins.

History of Panem.

As Evan sat at the wooden desk, he gazed in interest around the history teacher's classroom and noticed a lot of posters showing past leaders, both of District Seven and the Presidents of Panem. No one he knew, of course. A yellowed, fading picture of a less-grotesque and slightly younger President Snow was the closest this class would get to familiarity for him. There were maps, but only those which showed the evolution of District Seven from a small logging town to its present state of logging, sawmilling and papermaking.

Caitlin sat to his left; they were in the middle rows, not too close to the teacher, Mrs. Deming who had simply handed Evan a textbook and said, "Take a seat," a few minutes ago.

Mrs. Deming was now hand-writing his name on the attendance roll as other students filtered into the room, and when the bell rang, she said, "Okay, let's begin. I've been asked by the principal to remind students that being absent without excuse will merit severe consequences."

A murmur went around the room, and a couple of people looked at Evan. Mrs. Deming barked, "Allen, Edward!"

After the names were called and all people recorded present, she said, "Today we'll continue with the history of the growth of District Seven and, in doing so, analyze why it is that our use of technology is very limited. Please turn to page thirty-seven of your books, and we'll cover the highlights of the growth of forestry here after the Great Rebellion."

Evan grudgingly read along, as Mrs. Deming summarized each section, reminding the class to take more detailed notes for a quiz to come up in a week. He had to ask a question after Mrs. Deming said, "And so, you can see that it was already clear by thirty years after the Great Rebellion that if we were to use too much electricity for technical gadgets that we have no need of, we would be unable to serve the Capitol with all the wood and paper products they require of us. Electricity may not be wholly unnecessary, but government experts are correct in that an excess has more potential to be destructive than helpful."

He raised his hand. Mrs. Deming seemed surprised by the gesture after such an apparently obvious point, but nodded and said, "Yes, ah, Evan?"

Trying to avoid sounding too different from the other District Seven kids, Evan said, "Why isn't it possible to just make as much electricity as we want? The Capitol uses all kinds of technical gadgets, Mrs. Deming."

He tried not to let himself get angry as she said, "That's because the Capitol is wise enough to use its electricity well. We here in District Seven would simply waste it. Do you really think we need more lights than the two bulbs that light this room? Or more electric lights for the streets?"

Arguing with teachers, he knew, needed skills that rivalled those of submarine captains navigating among mined waters.

"But, Mrs. Deming," Evan countered, trying to keep himself from getting too upset. "What makes the Capitol any 'wiser' than we are? I mean, for one thing, people there are too impulsive to keep their skin one color all the time! And on top of that, they rely on us for their wood and paper!"

Mrs. Deming shot him a withering look. "Mr. Williams, you will keep your tongue in my classroom. Your argument has nothing to do with electricity. I will ask you once to focus on the lesson and keep your head before you dig yourself into some real trouble."

Mrs. Deming smiled in that thin way which Evan had seen on teachers before, which meant 'end of discussion, and if you continue, detention, young man'. Caitlin was casting a concerned look in his direction. He tried to avoid her gaze.

To the class as a whole, she said, "If you recall, long before the Great Rebellion, even before the formation of Panem, the oceans rose and the Earth changed. Some researchers into pre-Panem society believe that reckless use of technology was a contributing factor to this wholesale destruction."

Evan flushed a dull red as he realized there was enough truth to that accusation. It still didn't mean he had to sit quietly while the teacher filled their heads with the ideology of subservience to the Capitol.

/\/\

At lunch, Evan avoided the school cafeteria and wandered outside to the grounds, aimlessly walking on the grassy field as other people spilled out of the school, clustering in groups as they ate sandwiches or fruits.

Evan noticed Amber from the Home was looking at him, and her expression clouded a bit when Caitlin touched his shoulder to get his attention. She smiled and said, "Hi."

"Hey."

"Are you hungry? I could split my apple."

Evan looked into Caitlin's eyes and saw her earnest expression. Still... "Nah. You keep it."

His stomach begged to differ, but unlike at her house, she couldn't hear it growling. She hesitantly took a bite out of the apple she held in her hand and looked at him apologetically as she chewed.

"How bad is the food at the Community Home, Evan?" asked Caitlin tentatively.

"Vile," replied Evan. His face screwed up in disgust at the thought of that oatmeal.

Caitlin held her apple out and said, "Take it. I mean it, Evan. You can't go eating only that disgusting stuff, if your expression's anything to go by."

Evan reluctantly reached for the apple, accidentally brushing Caitlin's fingers as he did so. After Evan swallowed his bite of the apple and offered it back to her, she shook her head. "I can get another one from the cafeteria. School lunches are free, Evan."

Evan groaned and smacked his forehead. Caitlin giggled and abruptly put her hand over her mouth, trying to stifle it.

After she stopped laughing at Evan's expense, Caitlin said, "What was that in Mrs. Deming's class, anyway?"

Evan, full to the brim with his knowledge of the true state of affairs in Panem and still feeling a bit miffed about the History teacher's dismissiveness, spat, "Do you really expect me to believe we've got to drive old cars and constantly scrounge for food when the Capitol has so much?"

Caitlin looked terrified. In a small voice, she said, "Evan... please. You'll get whipped if you talk sedition."

She held his arm, willing him to back off. Evan let out a gust of breath. "Look, it's just... I've seen the Capitol on television once or twice. In the Home, it's kinda hard not to wish we had some of that too." He shrugged. "Hey, I'm not going to be starting an argument every day in class. Don't be worried, okay?"

Caitlin seemed a little less agitated. "I've seen those shows, too, after the night-time recaps of the Hunger Games, where they show the places the tributes stay in that fancy hotel of theirs. But that's just how things are, Evan," Caitlin stated. Even with that bald-faced truth, Evan found it hard to accept that a lot of District people believed the Capitol's teachings that they were inferior and deserved less because of it.

/\/\

A couple of weeks after that, Evan was sitting in the cafeteria with Caitlin at one of the tables when a dark-haired girl with a bit of an aggressive expression sat at the same table. Evan had felt as though he should know her, but couldn't figure out why. Something about her hair, shorter than the typical style of the district, and her annoyed expression.

A boy had come up and sat next to her. He said, "Hey, Johanna."

She'd looked sourly at him and said scathingly, "Just because you're my big brother doesn't mean you have to babysit me, okay? So go away, Andrew Mason. Find someone dumb enough to sit with you and stay there."

"Ow! Harsh! My own sister, telling me to leave. How'll I ever stand it?"

Caitlin giggled and Evan chuckled. Just then, he did a double take. This girl was Johanna Mason?

Johanna looked at them, seemed to dismiss them, and looked at Andrew, who looked like he might be thirteen or fourteen. Finally, he relented and grabbed his apple. "Look, Mom and Dad just want me to make sure you're okay. You don't talk to 'em much."

Johanna rolled her eyes. "And who's going around blabbering every detail of our family to everybody else in this place? Some brother you are."

Andrew sighed and took off. Johanna glared briefly at Evan and Caitlin, then went back to her own lunch.

Evan quietly asked, "Who's that Johanna girl?"

"Oh, she's a grade below us. I sort of know her a little bit, because her dad buys wood from mine occasionally." Caitlin shrugged and went back to eating.

That, however, explained to Evan why he hadn't met her before, as they were in the ninth grade while Johanna would be in the eighth grade.

Even at twelve, Evan could see the hints of the strong girl she would become – the Victor of the Hunger Games who would eventually help Katniss escape, at the cost of her capture and torture in the Capitol. Evan shuddered at the idea of nearly drowning a girl then shocking her to force her to give up precious secrets the Capitol wanted so desperately. He suppressed a sudden desire to tell her something. What could he say, anyway?

Besides, if he dared tell Johanna, let along managed to convince her of anything, what catastrophe might he wreak on Panem? On District Thirteen? Could that war – that rebellion – be lost because of his actions?

These unsettling thoughts stayed with him for a while afterwards.

/\/\

Aside from the sudden surprise of meeting Johanna Mason, the days and months passed in dreary monotony for Evan. Eating the same foods, doing the same jobs, seeing the same people over and over again.

Two sets of people did break the monotony from time to time: Trevor and the other guys who inhabited the same bedroom as Evan, and Caitlin Collins.

Early on, Cobie and Evan had quietly broken into the bakery where he had been dropped off. A twinge of remorse had gone through Evan at the sight of the empty cash register, but he managed to quell it – mostly, anyway. They had managed to make off with enough money to get his hair cut at a barber's. The barber had taken one look at Evan's hair, and promptly made him dunk his head in nearly-scalding hot water with pesticidal shampoo. Then the barber had broken out a shears and shaved Evan's head, saying, "Better to do it this way, kid."

That night, the "Brain Gang" had laughed themselves sick. Jeff had started it off by blurting, "Your face looks like the moon!" Fir and Oak had had to hold each other to keep from falling over, and Cobie had clapped him on the shoulder, saying, "Well, at least you can see, right, Evan? It's just too bad that this is what's in the mirror."

That caused some good-natured shoving, after which Evan had asked, "Haven't any of you seen a guy with short hair before?"

Chip had shaken his head. "Not really. We don't usually get good haircuts and not very often at that." He tugged at his own straggly hair and shrugged.

That night, Evan had dreamed of the girls he had known in what he was beginning to think of as his 'old life' berating him for getting a crew cut – something they'd always insisted wouldn't look good on him. Somehow, it left him just as melancholic in the morning as his dreams of his parents.

When he'd shown up for water-boiling the next morning, all the girls had stared at him in astonishment. Eliza's frown had been a bit less hostile, but only for that one morning. Evan suspected it was just due to sheer surprise.

Evan finally learned that Peter's secret mission with Trevor had been to slip into a hardware store and "liberate" a pipe needed to feed water into the boiler. The old feed pipe had broken that morning. Had Trevor had to get Mrs. Drewson to fill out a requisition, or forge his own, the hardware store would have taken its sweet time getting paid by the District government before letting them have the pipe.

So Trevor and Peter had quietly found the right length of pipe in the hardware store, and after several back-alley trips, shown up in the boiler room to give it to Jim Saxon in exchange for six of Jim's tessera-bread pieces. One of Jim's people, a pipefitter at the pulp mill, got it fixed in time for the next morning's showers.

Evan, astonished, had said, "And Peter had it on him while a Peacekeeper stopped you before crossing the road?"

Trevor had grinned. "He didn't even look at Peter. He just barked at me about 'loitering', slapped me upside the head and walked on."

Luckily, whatever Jim's gang might think of Evan, by the Community Home standards, he had gotten off lightly. Occasionally, one of them would purposely shove Evan out of the way if they happened to pass by. He'd only had his ass grabbed once, accompanied by a mocking, "Girls at least like it when I do that, you know."

Evan had glared daggers at the guy, who just grinned and waved a piece of bread at him. Evan had not had any further trouble from him, but then again, he saw one of the girls from the center table over by that guy at the older teenagers' table the next morning, which told him all he needed to know about that guy's pressure tactics.

The girls in the Home, upon realizing that Evan and Caitlin knew each other, occasionally made snide comments about "hanging out with a townie". Evan had protested, "Look, before I came here we knew each other. What's wrong with that?"

Twig, apparently the most vocal opponent of the 'nicer' town girls, had spat, "C'mon. She's just bein' a little rebel. As soon as her old man finds out, the Peacekeepers'll storm through here like a logging truck blowin' through this place, you'll get whipped, and we'll lose our food again. Sorry if I ain't happy for your little romance."

Martha had been the only detractor, piping up and saying, "But if he's nice and she's nice, shouldn't they be happy together?"

Eliza, by now grudgingly accepting that Evan truly intended no harm to any of the girls, had laughed bitterly. "I could tell you stories about how that goes wrong, Martha. Go on and play with the girls upstairs for a bit, okay?"

Eliza rarely let Martha play with the other "babysitter girls" on the floor just above the main floor, but as the eight-year-old always seemed happy when she came back, Eliza allowed it. Evan noticed Eliza seemed to stiffen a little when Martha wasn't near, and he concluded that some instinct in the District 2 population manifested in protectiveness and loyalty. Presumably, this instinct was typically honed to make District 2 people fanatically loyal to the Capitol. In Eliza's case, she would, if necessary, kill to keep someone from hurting Martha.

On that occasion, apparently wanting to take her mind off that slight uneasiness, Eliza actually talked to Evan while he boiled water.

Her expression, he realized, had changed enough so she didn't look at him with barely-hidden hostility anymore. "Look, I understand you might not mean to hurt that girl, but you gotta know you could. If her parents find out, I mean. Just the word 'Knot' sends a lot of woodcutter dads up in arms."

"It's kind of a long story," muttered Evan. "But they sorta already know."

She sighed. "Fine. But Twig's right, though. We can't go around getting noticed. When we do, bad things happen."

Evan said, "But isn't it better than me and someone here, though? If I start dating her and then break up, it doesn't make a mess here, right?"

Eliza guffawed. "Romance. Hah." She seemed to shake herself out of the benign mood she was in, and said, "Get the laundry pots moving."

Caitlin had taken to eating lunches with Evan, either in the school cafeteria or out on the field, and upon seeing Evan's shaved head, had blushed and asked if she could touch his hair. Her fingers felt nice as they rubbed his skull, and truth be told, he didn't mind her occasional touches on his arm or shoulder.

To pass the time at lunches or after school, he would sometimes tell stories he claimed to have read in books, but which were real tales of his home life. He found, though, that as much as it felt like therapy to talk of his old life and relive old memories, he would end up spending a sleepless night feeling homesick, and often woke up with suspiciously wet eyes, feeling inexplicably guilty.

/\/\

On a week in late October, Caitlin, smiling widely, said, "Evan! Have you heard?"

Confused, Evan scratched his head and said, "No, what?"

She dragged him to a poster. There was a Fall Festival dance coming up at the school in early November. Evan, having noticed how District Seven seemed like an odd hodgepodge of the 1930s and 1950s, realized she was hinting for him to ask her to the dance. But...

He said, "Oh. Um, I... might be busy that night."

Caitlin, disappointed, said quietly, "I thought you would want to go."

Evan leaned against the wall and looked at the girl. He decided, suddenly, that Caitlin's smile looked really nice, and didn't feel very good that her face had such a dejected, sad expression right that moment. Worse, it was his fault.

In desperation, he said, "Look, I can try to get out of it, okay?"

With the corners of her mouth lifting, she said slowly, "So you'll go?"

Evan replied, "Will you come with me to the dance, Caitlin?"

She grinned widely and said, "Thank you so much!"

This time, when they hugged, Evan didn't hesitate, though he had to hurriedly move his hand up a bit when she leaped a little higher than he expected. She didn't seem to mind his accidental touch, though.

It almost hadn't been worth it when he disclosed this to Shelby, Twig, and Amber, who had, by now, begun to put up with him. The day before the dance, he had guardedly asked if, by any chance, they had some extra-good clothes.

Amber held up the clothes – a white collared shirt and black pants – then frowned and said, "And why do you need these again?"

Evan blushed and choked out, "Um, there's the school dance... you know... I want to look nice..."

The girls all giggled loudly.

Shelby, behind Evan, barked, "D'you think we should help him, girls?"

Amber yanked the shirt and pants back out of reach, and pontificated, "You know, you dating that town girl is just asking for trouble."

Evan, confused, said, "Wait a second. How did you even know that? All I did was ask her to the dance!"

Twig came around to face Evan and rolled her eyes. "Amber and me, we see you with her every day at school. It's more like a matter of when, not if."

Evan sighed. "Look, her parents know about it already."

The girls giggled again, and then Twig seemed to recoil in shock. "Wait. They know? Ew! Is she your sister or something?"

Evan just stared at Twig in confusion.

She snorted. "I bet that's the only reason she's going out with you. Nobody knows you're related, huh? Ooh, doubly forbidden!"

Shelby laughed. "We can keep a secret!"

Evan groaned, put his hand to his forehead and growled, "No. She. isn't. my. sister!"

"The more you deny it, the faker it sounds," Shelby said skeptically.

Evan looked despairingly at her and decided to just go in his ratty clothes. Amber, apparently sensing this, relented and said, "Fine, okay, you fooled her parents good and they like you. Here. We'll clean these clothes. They came from some guy who never wore 'em after the day he came here because he worried they'd get stolen off him."

Shelby's slightly mocking tone disappeared as well as she said, "Look, we get it. You wouldn't be this desperate to look good for your sister anyway, unless it was some stupid family thing. Not that we're totally ruling that out."

Evan snorted, his false back story coming easier to him now. "Shelby, my parents're likely dead. Caitlin's family only took me in for a little while so I could do some odd jobs for her old man. But after I got beaten that day—"

Twig softly said, "I understand. I got kicked out for something like that, too. It's worse when it's your own family instead of just someone you work for." She brightened up as she said, "And really, don't freak out. This is just how we have fun, okay?"

The girls, as good as their promise, washed and dried the clothes Evan needed. He, in turn, made sure their water pots were hot as possible and every request they had, he moved as quickly as he could to fulfill. The episode did a lot to soothe relations in the hot, humid laundry room, though the girls had, Evan thought, been slowly warming up to him even before then.

Caitlin was shocked, but surprised, to see Evan show up at the school in his good clothes. She, in turn, was wearing the nicest one-piece dress she owned, which hugged parts of her Evan didn't mind admiring from the back.

They had made their way to the school gymnasium, and luckily, he wasn't that bad of a dancer and the music played by the live band was somewhat similar to instrumental jazz from the 1940s, so he picked up the right pacing easily.

After the dance, they had kissed for the first time. Kissing had led to a little touching, but neither Evan nor Caitlin wanted to let it get to the point of clothes coming off, and with some difficulty, they managed to avoid any more delays getting Caitlin back to the Town Square, where they would part ways.

After that, they became an item. He had his first girlfriend!

/\/\

A month away from the Victory Tour, winter had set in hard. Christmas had just passed, and it had been difficult for all the Home's kids, but especially for Fir and Oak. Oak, his voice breaking, said, "Why couldn't Mom and Dad come visit us, Fir?"

Fir swallowed hard and looked at the floor. He roughly said, "Oak, they've never cared for us. If they did, we wouldn't be here. C'mon, little brother, forget 'em, okay?"

Trevor kicked his bed, shaking Evan, who had been laying on the upper bunk, surveying the somber boys from his height.

Evan leaned over and quietly said, "You okay, man?"

Trevor shook his head, sighing gloomily. "I don't remember Christmas as well, but my Mom had to have celebrated it with me when I was a kid, didn't she? Can't remember, really. Damn it!"

His punch to the sideboard of Evan's bunk seemed more resigned than angry. Even Cobie, who had joked the entire time he and Evan had sneaked into and out of the bakery, hadn't seemed up to joking. The Home was draped in an air of melancholy that was hard to shake off, especially as Evan's thoughts turned frequently to his own family. Even the girls in the laundry room were resigned, and Eliza in particular was less snappish, but seemingly in compensation, she refused to let Martha from her sight if she could possibly avoid it.

January passed by without much notice, except that Evan finally got a look at the mysterious Mrs. Drewson. He was trudging downstairs one day before Eliza was due to wake everybody else up, and happened to catch something out the corner of his eye just as he raised his hand to knock at the laundry door.

He saw the old woman exiting through a door that he had never really paid attention to before, as it was always locked. She was a mousy, faded sort of woman, with a curve to her spine and a frail look about her. As he stepped closer, he could see that her eyes were a watery blue, which seemed to have trouble focussing on him. She wore a faded blue dress that had stains on it, which Evan assumed to be from alcohol she hadn't cleaned off of herself.

Her voice seemed to creak from disuse as she said, "Young man, you shouldn't be awake at this hour. Go on, back up those stairs!" She fluttered her hands, shooing him even though she couldn't possibly have been able to shove him anywhere. Grudgingly, he went back up the stairs, but just enough so she would think he'd left. Sure enough, she furtively looked up and down the hallway, then extracted a key from a pocket in her faded blue dress and quietly slipped into her office, which Evan remembered from his first night at the Home.

It was a sobering reminder of the cost of the Hunger Games.

/\/\

The Victory Tour kicked off with a bang, as four large televisions, protected against the elements, were mounted in the Town Square. Every person in District Seven without a television (and even some with televisions, if they seemed insufficiently excited about it) was required to crowd in the Town square amid a fresh snowfall that had deposited a good six inches of the stuff overnight.

Evan, along with the other kids from the Home, had had to trudge for forty-five minutes up the sidewalk to arrive in the chilly Square by nine o'clock on a Saturday morning.

He wished he was with Caitlin, but that thought didn't hang around long as the screens went live, showing the highlights of Finnick Odair's Hunger Games. Evan was amazed as he heard squeals of delight and awe from the girls and some of the women crowded around the large televisions.

The camera views showing Finnick's athletic and fighting prowess during the Games had clearly been selected to maximize his physical attractiveness. No fourteen-year-old, thought Evan, ought to have a chest like that. Everything about the boy was perfect. He'd seen models in his own time who would have looked plain next to Finnick, airbrushed and all. He realized with a sinking feeling that warning Finnick about what was to happen to him might be like trying to hold back an ocean with a thimble.

As the Game highlights faded away, a Capitol announcer's face appeared, his voice booming out over the loudspeaker system.

"Ladies and gentlemen! Viewers across Panem! You've just seen the amazing Finnick Odair as he fought to victory in the 65th Hunger Games!" He leaned forward a bit and said, "Now, let's quickly go through the Victory ceremony before we switch to the live feed and see young Mr. Odair kick off his Victory Tour!"

The squeals of delight redoubled in volume as the display shifted to show Finnick rising up onto Caesar Flickerman's stage from below. Evan, who wasn't attracted to boys, nonetheless realized how Finnick's appearance was crafted to elicit a response from anyone who wasn't a complete robot.

The shouts from the audience in the Square rose to a deafening level as Finnick sat in the chair, smirking out at the viewers. Evan wondered if he could ever afford to be so breezily unaware of the deeper undercurrents of the Hunger Games and its Victors if he were in Finnick's place.

Evan knew all too well the uncertainties of fourteen, even with the lack of expectations that came with living in the Home. Given this, and Finnick's behavior, he decided Finnick had to have been a true Career tribute. No fourteen-year-old with that level of self-confidence could pull it off unless he'd been trained so hard that he knew he could win, especially once he got his trident – his special, lethal weapon.

The shock came when President Snow walked out to crown Finnick. The white-haired President, his lips a little too red to be natural, even the way his beady, calculating gaze landed on Finnick before vanishing in false bonhomie as he announced the Victor, all combined to give Evan the most crawlingly repulsive feeling. It strongly felt as though the man was physically present, and Evan wanted nothing so much as to be anywhere but in the Town Square.

Thankfully, Snow's presence wasn't the main attraction; It's all Finnick, all the time, Evan reflected. The show crashed into the final interview session after the Games, playing choice snippets where Finnick seemed to take unique delight in relishing winning over his opponents. Evan decided the Capitol's media people must know their art well.

The view changed again, showing the live feed from District Four. Evan didn't know if this was normal, but the view seemed calculated to play up District Four's proximity to the ocean. Glistening bright blue-green water in the background, with waves gently crashing against the shore, provided a backdrop against which Finnick and his stylist team stood, grinning and waving for the cameras. Finnick was dressed in a sea-green suit and pants. He had a white shirt and a dark green tie, and his hair had been styled in a fashion not too far removed from popular hairstyles in the 1990s and 2000s.

Mags, the old woman Evan had read so much about, stood near Finnick, waving occasionally but otherwise standing serenely, unaffected by the loud applause from Finnick's fellow people in District Four. She had a vaguely empty stare, but the camera did not dwell for long on her.

Apparently, every high official in Panem wanted the photo opportunity, because the procession of men and women who walked onto the stage with Finnick to briefly shake his hand and grin for the cameras seemed endless – the mayor, Seneca Crane, and on it went.

Eventually, however, Finnick was due to board his train, which would take him to District Twelve for his first stop. The cameras couldn't get enough of him waving and blowing kisses to the crowd at the train station before he finally boarded the train and closed the door. Evan could only imagine what went on from there. Did the boy sigh in relief at being away from the stifling crowds, or simply congratulate himself on a job well done? Evan had no way of gauging Finnick's true personality. Katniss's image had been an elaborate façade, but he was almost certain that Finnick's carefree personality was no act. That said, he did, after all, love Annie Cresta.

And surely Finnick was already experiencing the nightmares, stress and unease that came with never truly leaving the arena?

The display went back to the announcer, who gushed, "And that's the start! We'll return to you tomorrow as Mr. Odair visits District Twelve to celebrate his stunning Victory!"

After the high pressure of the television show was over, Evan was able to think long and hard about what he ought to do when Finnick Odair visited District Seven. At the rate the Tour went, if the books he'd read were any indication, it sounded like the Victor would spend a day or two per District, and that was not including the day or less of travel time between each District. So figure three days per District – that put Finnick into Seven in two weeks.

Two weeks for Evan Williams to hatch a plan.

Author Notes: Thanks a million to Claratrix LeChatham for extensive beta work on this, and thanks go to SkyWriter9 as well for looking this over and nitpicking it. :)