Hi everyone! I'm actually posting one of my multi-chapter stories that I'm not completely finished, mostly because I'm not sure how much story is left to write! This is actually the same Wiress and Beetee from my "Fern" stories (The Will to Live) but can be read separately. I was writing Fern's story and realized these two needed theirs told first. I hope you enjoy, and please review!

Beetee

Eighteen. It's my last year of the reaping. The last year I have to stand here, worried about myself. I'll never actually be free of worrying, of course. I'll be safe, my best friend Nikola will be safe, but not any of our younger friends, not any of the underclassmen I tutor. And next year, we'll have to start worrying about Nik's little sister, Wiress. No, I can't stop worrying, not as long as I see children playing outside and I know one of them could be chosen.

The escort, a garishly dressed man named Grant, reaches into the mass of papers, reaching for the name of one unfortunate boy. "Beetee Tesla!" I flinch, push my glasses up my nose. Was that really my name? It must be, because Nik is clenching his fists, wide eyed and panicky.

"Don't even think about it," I tell him. We've promised. No volunteering. Well, I was never really going to stick to that promise. He has his sister to take care of. They don't have parents anymore, and my family would happily take her in, but if Nik was called, I would volunteer for him anyway. I try to hold my head up as I approach the stage; try to appear calm for the cameras that are now watching my every move, watching my behavior to see if I'm worth sponsoring. I'm eighteen, I can hold myself together. The girl on stage shakes my hand. I didn't catch her name because I was too worried about the drawing for the boys.

She whispers, "Ada". She has blonde hair, doesn't seem to belong in District 3. Maybe, if I have to kill her, I can pretend she isn't from home. I'm led off stage in a trance. I know people can visit us; I did it once for a girl I was tutoring. She died. Twenty three die every year. We haven't had a victor in almost my entire life; I was only one when Marks came home from the icy wasteland he was stuck in.

My parents rush into my little room, hold me while we all cry. "I love you, dearest," my mom says. They don't plead for me to come home, they don't give me tips for the arena. We all know how unlikely it is that I will be the one who makes it. They are ushered out and I have time with my grandmother. I'm happy to see that my next visitors are Nikola and Wiress. Nik and I don't have anything to say. We know we don't. We're best friends and best friends don't need words. Wiress, however, is clinging to my neck and weeping. She's eleven, her parents are dead. Now I will probably die. It's going to be difficult for her.

"Come home," she whispers into my neck. "You could actually do it." It's the first vote of confidence I've gotten so far, and she's going to make me cry again. "You will be the smart one, I know you can outthink them. Just find a way to come home."

I raise my eyes to Nik's, this is a promise to them both. "I will certainly try."

Wiress raises her head abruptly. "Do you have a token? A district token?" I shake my head, it's one of the last things on my mind right now. She slips a friendship bracelet off her wrist, the kind made with embroidery floss. "I made this. I…maybe you could wear this. If it's not too girly." It's blue and black, her favorite colors. I smile at her, the biggest smile I can pull out of my tired heart.

"I'll wear it." The peacekeepers usher them away, Wiress gives me a kiss on the cheek, I give her one on the forehead.

"I believe in you", she whispers.

Then I say what might end up being my last words to her. "Stay strong, little livewire."

On the train, I experiment with ways to wear the friendship bracelet since it's too small for my wrist. What seems to stay on best is to wrap it several times around my middle finger. I wear it during training to see if it gets in the way at all. It doesn't.

Marks has good tips for me, walks me through some ideas for training, possible locations for the arena, ways to survive without many sponsors, since we can't rely on District 3 fans choosing me over the photogenic Ada. Her mentor, Elisa, is trying to paint her as a pretty girl, maybe not in-your-face-sexy, but the kind you marry. Her interview outfit is reminiscent of a wedding gown, but in light blue. She looks almost delicate, and I wonder if it's going to be a help or a hindrance. I take the stage after her, feeling strong in my new dark suit. I know I'm not charming, but I do seem to get along with everyone, and I try to push being friendly, being smart. I want all of the sponsors to look up, see me as a good investment.

We go into the arena tomorrow. My stylist already has my token, Wiress' bracelet, ready and waiting for me wherever the hovercraft takes us. I'm feeling restless and nervous. Marks gave me something to help me sleep, but I'm too wound up to even think about it yet. There's a knock at my door.

It's Ada. "I can't sleep. This is awful." I don't know if she means the lack of sleep is awful, or the situation is awful. Both, perhaps.

"Me either," I offer.

She swings her hair over her shoulder. It's so much longer than I've seen anyone's before. It would get caught in some machinery if you worked in a factory or something. Ada is pretty, but in such an alien way that I don't quite understand it. "I can't believe I'm going to die a virgin!"

I raise my eyebrows at her. "Is that really the one thing that bothers you about this situation?"

"It's the one thing that I can actually do something about," she says defiantly.

"Marks?" He's twice her age. Okay, that doesn't make him that old at all, but older enough to be weird.

She throws her hands up in exasperation. "You, stupid."

"What." It's not even a question, just the first thing that escapes my mouth. What. She looks suddenly shy, as if she practiced up to this part and now doesn't know what to say.

"Aren't you a virgin, too?"

"Yes." I don't remind her that I'm eighteen, a year older than her, and if she thinks it's odd or somehow shameful to still be a virgin, then I must be awful. I don't remind her that in the real world she wouldn't look twice at some geek engineering student. I also don't tell her that I don't feel some pressing need to have sex in order to feel like I've experienced life so I can be at peace with my death. I don't tell her that watching everyone in training has actually boosted my confidence that I might be able to win.

Instead, I'm a teenage boy, and I kiss Ada.

The 52nd Annual Hunger Games

The tributes stand on their podiums, surrounded by marshland, the cornucopia is on the only fully stable ground within sight, the rest is a maze of holes and swamp. The gong sounds, and the tributes are off. Fortune favors the meek in this case, as the girl from District 2, a career whom many people think will win, immediately sinks into the mire, having run for the cornucopia without watching where she placed her feet. Beetee Tesla from District 3 carefully steps only where the reeds are thickest, where he has leverage and something to hold on to. This makes him one of the first to reach the cornucopia safely, and he has his choice of supplies.

Alliances are formed, mostly small groups of twos and threes, as there just isn't solid land for more than that to even stand together. Beetee allies with his District partner Ada, and a small boy named Bronco from 10. Bronco's size is a benefit in this arena, he is light enough to walk where a larger child would sink and die in the muck. Beetee is the one who truly saves the day, though, fighting off a trio who attempt to catch them asleep and vulnerable. He's not skilled with the lightweight staff he has been wielding, but he puts enough force behind his blows that a knock on the head can be fatal, or at least push them off firm land. His bravery makes him briefly popular, and he receives a silver parachute, full of wires and electronics.

Ada is the first of the alliance to go, she is separated from the group while foraging for food, tricked into going further than she should by the boy from District 2 imitating a bird. She thinks she could bring back a prize, they could eat well tonight, but all she gets for her trouble is a blade in the belly. Beetee and Bronco hear the cannon and immediately know it was for Ada. They abandon camp and go on the run, eager to keep themselves from being tracked. Meanwhile, other tributes are being picked off by the careers and by the gamemaker's mutts. There are large lizards in some of the marshland, with jaws that can snap through bone. All it takes is a tribute bending to get water, and they are pulled under in less than a second. Bronco hasn't seen this, so he's caught completely unaware when Beetee shouts and attempts to grab his arm. Beetee's shocked expression is the last thing Bronco ever sees. Beetee, terrified and now alone, races through the arena, trying to find someplace safe, someplace he can form a plan. He huddles inside the cornucopia and goes through his remaining supplies.

The only tributes left besides Beetee are a group of career tributes and the odd pair of girl from 7 and boy from 11. They all draw near the cornucopia in the hopes of left over supplies or food. It's the only major spot where mutts have not been seen. The careers catch sight of 11, and take him down easily with a thrown blade. His ally screeches and throws herself at them, stabbing ineffectively with the blade she pulled from his body. Her neck is snapped before she even realizes what a dumb move it was. The careers are eager to take out the last kid, turn it into a real fight between themselves. Beetee stands in the cornucopia, looking like an easy target. He smoothly dodges a throwing knife, now the careers are left with close contact weapons. They don't make it two steps before Beetee connects the battery he received in his parachute, and the marshland hisses with electricity. He clenches his eyes shut, holding the connectors as long as possible before he begins to gasp in smoke. He is the only living creature left in the arena, standing on the only dry, solid piece of land.

Beetee, age 18, District 3 victor

Grant steps off the train first, flamboyant as always in his bright purple suit. My eyes must be used to the Capitol by now, because it doesn't seem so bad, and everyone else is wincing at it. He introduces Marks, and then me. I 'm more overwhelmed by this, by being treated like someone special in my own home, than I was at the Capitol. The lights up for the cameras make me squint, and I can't see past the first two rows of people, the ones who winced, but the sounds make me think that there are hundreds more present. I want to seize up, but I remind myself I am a winner now. Not shy. Not the nerd who gets teased. I'm going to be good at talking to people and at being charming and popular.

There's space set aside for family, easy for good camera shots, and Grant leads me there. My parents and Gran are there, smiling and crying. "My baby!" Mom cries out. I'm surrounded by all the reasons I needed to get out of there alive. It's fantastic. After all the hugs and kisses, they step slightly over, and there are the Parsons'. Nik and I thump each other on the back. I'm ecstatic to see him, everyone I care about being safe. Safety isn't just assumed anymore. The second I'm out of Nik's arms, something throws itself at me, knocking some of the air out of my lungs.

"Hi Wiress," I whisper into the mass of awkward preteen arms and hair that is my best friend's little sister. She looks up at me, studying my face.

"You came back," is all she says. She can be a chatterbox when we're in their house, but around all these people and cameras, she's shy and quietly stares at me while I greet other people. Something about her gaze makes me feel awesome. The people in the Capitol looked at me like I was their hero because I killed people and was the smartest. Wiress looks at me like I'm her hero because I came home. As I speak to the cameras, I feel her eyes on me, and I hold up my hand, show her my token wrapped around my finger. She grins. Being a hero feels wonderful.

Wiress Parsons, age 12

We watched everything we could that showed Beetee on his victory tour. Now that it's just Nik and I in the house, we can watch what we'd like as much as we want, so we leave it on and I pretend that Beetee is in the room with us, instead of speaking to the mayor of one of the districts. I don't like the Beetee he has to be during these bits, he isn't my Beetee when he talks like this and his face is sad. I know he's sad because he killed people and saw people be killed and all these things that are horrible, but he had to make it out alive, and if he didn't do those things he wouldn't have and I don't think I'm selfish to be glad I can still run across the field to see him instead of going to some graveyard where he wouldn't even be able to talk back. When I try to think about Beetee if he had died, my thoughts run away so I can't think them. That's how untrue they are.

The big party they throw here for him in the city square is strange because Beetee has to talk to the camera Capitol people and he is television Beetee when he does that, but then he turns around to one of us and he's my Beetee again. I'm wearing my new favorite dress that Nik gave me, it is green and he says I look very pretty indeed because that's what the prince says in one of the books we read together he says "you look very pretty indeed" and I made the mistake of telling him that I think of Beetee as a prince sometimes and Nik is the best brother in the world but everyone knows brothers tease.

There's dancing and music which is lovely because I really like music and I am happy dancing by myself, even though I hear people make fun of me and they think I'm old enough that I should have a partner and dance in a boring circle, but they don't understand that I'm not being silly, I am just having fun and I don't see why it's fun to stand very still and then move your feet like a box.

"Hi, darling!" says a woman and I don't know her. "You're friends with the victor, right? Can we interview you for the show? It would be on the TV, just like things you watch! Wouldn't that be fun?" She's leaning down to talk to me even though I'm tall enough that she could talk to me like an adult. I'm eleven but I'm very smart and I can understand regular concepts without resorting to this sort of patronizing tone. I open my mouth to tell her exactly the science behind how the images she records will be projected onto people's screens, so she knows I'm not stupid, when Beetee joins us. He has a scowly face, which is actually kind of funny except he's serious.

"Leave her alone. I told you what I was willing to do, that's it. Film what you can and leave."

"Now, Beetee," she says, "we need to capture the human aspect as well, everyone will be wanting to see you celebrate, with your friends, and young girls often have the sweetest little sound bites about handsome male victors." She trills a fake sounding laugh.

"You can't just use people," he says, and I want to interrupt again to say that of course, they clearly can. But I don't. I think he knows this already. "Just don't."

"I don't want to talk to you, sorry." I tell the woman. "But I'll let you film us dancing or something. So you have your human element." And Beetee will stop being quite so upset, is the part I leave out. Beetee gives me sad eyes, but we take hands and go to the dancing.

"You don't have to be used like this for me, Wire." He says. "They shouldn't be bothering someone like you for their entertainment." I stay quiet because he's making me a bit ticked. I don't know what he means by "someone like me" but I suspect he means a kid. Even though I'm capable of doing something nice for a friend, like this, and it's only a few months until they can use me for their entertainment by reaping me. I'm not really tall enough yet to look him in the eyes while dancing, so I stay silent and hope he can understand what I feel. He tends to.

"I hate dancing in a boxy circle," is all I manage to say. He doesn't even respond, just holds me fast around my waist and lifts me enough that we sort of swoop, dancing through the crowd, zigging and zagging while everyone else is so much stiller. I can't stop laughing, and my feet aren't touching the ground, and I hope this is the bit they show on the television, it's human if that's what they want, but it's also us. He's being my Beetee and I want that to be seen on the television.

Beetee's last name and Wiress' brother come from Nikola Tesla, an engineer, physicist, and inventor who was a really interesting guy. His generation's Sheldon Cooper, look him up. Wiress' last name is for Charles A. Parsons, who invented the steam turbine. I just thought that was interesting. Also, this story was never intended to be chapters, but once it hit 37k words I sort of figured it needed to be, lol. So some of the chapter breaks might be awkward. I'm trying my best to pick appropriate spots. I will post the next part soon!