The training hall was full of nervous, determined and bewildered teenagers. Hal stood amongst them, trying to look like he was listening to the instructor who was droning on about berries. Who cared about that, really? His eyes were continuously drawn to where the sets of silver weapons stood like well-groomed soldiers, reflecting the blue electricity of the room. Time was running low already and yet he felt compelled to stand with the others and at least look like he cared about plants.
The girl from district seven was standing near him on his right, face pale and her eyes wide. On the other side of her was a young boy with a perpetual frown gluing his eyebrows together. Sure that they were from the same district, Hal drifted away from them as the instructor finally stopped talking.
He and the other careers all seemed to have the same idea and there was a vicious scramble for the weapons. Not wanting to get caught up in a fight just yet, he stood a little back and just reached a hand into the fray and pulled out whatever metal object he first touched. It was a light sword which, if he was honest with himself, felt too small for his hands. But he wasn't going to complain so he made the most of it and spent a solid… five minutes practicing with an instructor.
His eyes wandered around the room, searching for something he couldn't quite place his finger on. And then there it was – a head of short hair and two wide eyes. The girl from seven was talking with a boy from eleven who looked too young to be surrounded by teenagers who were being trained to kill.
He wondered what they were talking about.
The girl from his district – Daisy – called his name. Sighing inwardly, Hal stood the sword back on its stand and turned to her.
She wanted to get to know the other careers.
Maybe they could make an alliance.
Sure, he said. Maybe.
The few days they had in the training hall – or gym, as the other careers called it – were too short. The only thing Hal was concerned about was the climate of the arena, and apart from knowing how to source water there wasn't much he could do to prepare for that. So he amused himself with weapons and listening to the big-headed gossip passed between some of the tributes.
And with watching the girl from seven.
He couldn't remember her name, but damned if he was going to ask someone.
So he waited patiently for the television interview.
Being the male from district one meant that he went on stage first. He was dressed in a crisp suit made of a light material that reflected the hot studio lights. There was moderately excited applause as he stepped into view and he flashed a small smile towards the first camera he saw.
Caesar Flickerman, the ridiculously excited host, took Hal's hand in his and shook it firmly. Having planned to be cheery and friendly, Hal found it difficult to keep the look of horror off of his face.
They sat down and the questions started rolling in. Was he excited? Tremendously. What did he like most about the Capitol? The people. Did he miss home? Of course, but everyone was so welcoming and accommodating he felt like the Capitol was a second home to him. There were rumors that he was a bit of a ladies man. What, me? Oh, I wouldn't say so – Aren't I right, ladies? Much screaming. Hal blessed them by smiling towards the ground and looking up slowly. Maybe when I win the games I'll find a wife from the Capitol.
More screaming. His stomach was churning and he was more relieved than he could say when Caesar stood up and wished him luck. He skedaddled and sat broodingly in one of the chairs reserved for the tributes, hardly acknowledging the appearance of any of the others. He was waiting for the girl from seven.
The boy from seven was called Tom and it suited him. He was entirely uncharismatic, uninspiring and unimpressive. His few minutes dragged and the girl's flew by like silk threads in a storm.
The captivating Alex Millar!
Ah, so that was her name.
Alex strode onto the stage in high heels that looked like they could be used as weapons. She was wearing a dress which held tight to her torso and had capped sleeves that made her neck look even longer and more elegant than it was already. The dress flowed downwards as several separate sections of material, making her look almost like she was floating.
The applause that greeted her mirrored the thundering of his heart when they, by complete fluke, caught each other's eyes.
She sat down opposite Caesar and her time began.
She answered perfectly and smiled and made herself look completely gorgeous. Not that it was a difficult task. She was radiant, but the audience didn't give her the final applause Hal thought she deserved.
Never mind. She'd made a much better impression than the boy from her district, so there was always a chance that sponsors who favoured district seven would help her.
She sat down at the end of the row he was seated on, not making eye contact with anyone. Not even the boy she'd travelled with. It was understandable, of course. The real games had just started.
Unlike Daisy, who was positively buzzing beside him.
He ignored her and everyone else for the rest of the night. The next time he saw them – in the arena – he would be a different man.
The light was dim. He could barely see the people either side of him and this worried him – but only for a moment. Darkness wasn't a problem for him – not really. Instead, the whole situation made his blood flow through his veins so quickly his fingers twitched.
He was ready for this.
The countdown began. Few moments later they were released and he saw vague shadows thundering towards the cornucopia. He was hardly aware that he was joining them until he saw the whites of someone's eyes.
It could have been anyone. Without thinking he shot his right palm up into the air and twisted their head sideways, catching his breath as a slick crunch rattled up his arm. A canon sounded.
His eyes were becoming more accustomed to the light and he recognised Daisy somewhere to his left. Something a few yards in front of him caught his eye and his eyes widened.
It was a sword of some description. And, scattered around it, were a flock of short knives.
No one except the first person seemed to notice him. He had chance to scoop up the sword and three knives before anyone else even came near him.
He turned towards the attacker, ready to thrust a knife deep into their ribs.
But it was Alex.
He dropped the knife immediately and raised his hands, stepping backwards. He hardly knew why he did it but he couldn't murder her. He knew she was worth more than a quick jab to the lungs.
"Leave." He heard himself say. She stumbled to a stop, clutching what looked like a sack. He bent down and picked the knife back up. "Take this and run."
Without answering, she took the knife, turned and ran into the darkness.
He hoped the cameras had picked that up.
Someone called his name. It took a second for recognition to kick in and he tore his eyes away from where Alex had disappeared. It was Daisy.
It seemed an alliance had formed. The two from three and one from five were standing in a huddle. Daisy was a little to one side of them, looking uncomfortable.
He crossed to them, picking his way over several bodies and piles of abandoned equipment. Funny. He hadn't heard many canons.
They asked him if he wanted to join them for a while. Why not? Safety in numbers. And it wouldn't last long – he knew that much. Maybe he could take a few of them down – that would make it easier for Alex, at least –
Wait.
He paused mid step and stared back the way he'd walked, re-evaluating what he wanted to achieve from this game. He had wanted to win – his whole life had been spent in awe of the victors and he'd planned out what he'd do when he won almost down to the clothes he'd wear. But now that didn't seem important.
He hated himself for it.
It had made him weak and he'd let her slip through his fingers. Pretty much pushed her away from him in an attempt to keep her alive.
Oh no.
He turned back to the group and they were discussing who got what weapon. Instinctively, he clutched the sword he'd grabbed back from the floor to his side. The boy from three nodded towards him and asked him if he was alright.
Of course. I've already chosen what I'm using.
Oh, and I have some throwing knives Daisy can use.
He handed her the knives. Told her there were more just over there. She was grateful and scampered to get them.
Everyone was looking at him through the gloom. What? She's good at throwing. I've known her a while.
They carried on, each of them choosing a different weapon. One guy chose a heavy looking axe. The girl from his district had a short bow which looked small enough to lose. The other – the guy from five – was carrying what looked like a cross between a knife and a two handed sword. The blade was short and thick and the handle had plenty of space for his two big hands.
An impressive array.
They found sleeping bags and, as it was still so dark, set up first watch.
Hal and the girl from three sat awake for two hours in stony silence. She tried to make conversation at the beginning but all he'd answer with was yes or no and she quickly grew tired.
He was sure she actually fell asleep at one point.
His mind, on the other hand, was far too busy to turn off.
This was it. This was the Hunger Games. From the reaping to the moment he stepped off the plinth had been one massive blur interrupted only by odd moments. Catching a glimpse of Alex's smile. First touching the cool metal handle of that first sword. The intense volume of the studio audience.
Time in the arena had been much more vivid. He still wasn't sure who it was he'd killed, but the memory of their vertebrae snapping apart was still chasing him. Seeing the sword and the relief that had filled him for a moment. Complete horror when he realised he'd nearly stabbed Alex. Utter confusion at why that mattered.
The awful realisation that the churning feeling in the pit of his stomach was nothing to do with nerves or hunger or excitement.
Maybe it was a mixture of all three, but they came under the broad category of longing.
And that was it. A longing to not be here anymore – to be somewhere else where he'd either never seen this girl from seven or where they were going to both be allowed to live.
He'd buy her wine and take her out to big events where she'd be able to wear wonderfully tailored clothes and experience the most magnificent music and food.
He'd show her the night life of one. He'd show her how great it was to be somewhere like the Capitol all the time. Maybe she could teach him about… about trees.
He was willing to bet that she was stronger than he was. Women from seven had a reputation for being well built and Alex had a stable sort of strength – she was elegant, certainly, but there was a toughness in her shoulders and general countenance that made him believe it would take more than one blow to knock her to the ground. He hoped she got chance to show off that strength in the arena – sponsors loved that kind of thing.
The guy from five woke up and offered to swap with him. Deciding he may as well try to get some sleep, Hal agreed and lay down on the grass slightly away from the rest of the group.
He didn't fall asleep for a very long time.
Alex had run as far as she could, but the panic and confusion and weight of the sack had eventually slowed her. She dropped to her knees and lifted her head to the sky, silently telling it to hurry up and lighten. If this games was going to be completely in the dark she was going to be furious.
She was still clutching the knife the boy from one had given her. Now that she was in a silent, forested part of the arena, she let herself think about what happened down at the cornucopia.
She'd been sure that she was about to die. He'd turned on her so quickly – like a scared cat – and that knife had been so close to her stomach it made her feel sick. And his face!
Oh.
She'd watched him in the training room but he was with the careers, as was expected. So she fully expected him to be a ruthless killer who enjoyed this kind of thing.
But he'd looked genuinely pained. Like it was he who'd had a knife touched to his waist.
She couldn't afford to think at all kindly towards him because he, or one of his friends, was almost guaranteed to kill her soon.
She hadn't seen Tom since the bloodbath and she secretly hoped he'd already been taken down. It would save her the guilt of either killing or betraying him.
But that thought made her feel bad. He was such an innocent… child. He didn't belong here.
She got back to her feet and continued walking. She wanted to look into the sack she'd grabbed but she was so afraid of someone creeping up behind her that she couldn't stop for long.
She became tired soon after her break, though. And she had to think about where she was going to sleep.
Climbing a tree was, of course, no problem. The part of the arena she'd ran into was full of them and she only hoped that they weren't trapped or anything as she selected one and clambered up the trunk, sack swung over her back.
It was a good choice.
She checked the sack and found a thin blanket and some wire, some funky glasses and some thin rope. And, most importantly, a tiny book of matches.
Pretty satisfied, she made sure she was secure on her branch and fell to sleep slowly.
The anthem burst through the air, waking them both up suddenly.
At the Cornucopia, Hal was very aware that he was still alive and that he now had to interact with these people he would eventually kill.
In the tree, Alex was aware of how bright the light had got. They weren't going to have a completely dark games, after all.
Six faces flashed across the screen. None of them were Tom. And none of them were Hal, the boy from one.
This was annoyingly satisfying.
Hal recognised some of the faces but the one he was looking for wasn't there. Good. Maybe he could break away from this pack of wolves and find her.
In the night he'd decided he'd like to talk to her even just once before they inevitably died.
So, when the anthem ended and the sky-screens turned off, he got to his feet and started walking away.
An idea hit him after a few steps. He asked if anyone had seen a movement somewhere far to their left. No? He was sure he'd seen something. He was going to check it out.
Boy from three was going to go with him.
The rest were going to stay and guard their hoard.
They crept slowly towards the point Hal was insisting he'd seen movement. Did you really not see anything?
No.
Ten meters from the cornucopia. Twenty. Thirty. Fifty and it was time.
Hal apologised. The boy started to ask what for but he was silenced by a well-aimed chop to the throat. Blood gurgled up and out of his skin, spraying over Hal like water splashed from a puddle.
It took the three remaining at the cornucopia a few moments to realise what had happened.
The canon fired and Hal heard horrified screams from behind him but he didn't look – he just ran. He sprinted as quickly as he could into the trees, trying to stay out of range of Daisy's throws.
Caesar Flickerman would be loving this.
Hal leapt over a high hedge, only vaguely wondering what it was doing in such a strange place. The gamemakers, no doubt, had some sort of plan for it. He was glad when it disappeared into the distance behind him.
This hunt was going to last all day. Hopefully he'd be able to pick a few more people off and hopefully the cameras would watch him. He needed people to be speculating about his motives because that was what he was doing every moment that he ran forwards.
He didn't have a clue.
He paused for a moment to work out how closely he was being followed. Apparently, not very. He could hear nothing so slowed to a brisk walk, eyes scanning all around him. He was ready for a fight now.
He wondered whether the boy from five had followed him, too. If he had it would have left the cornucopia open to anyone who was lying in wait.
That could be interesting.
He almost wished he was at home watching it instead of living it. But he'd spent so long dreaming about this that it would be in poor taste to go backwards now.
So he thundered onwards, powering through the low vegetation and hoping he'd run into someone soon. The viewers would grow bored of a chase if it lasted for long and he needed the attention to be on him.
A movement above and to the right caught his eye and he stumbled to a stop. There, almost perfectly hidden, was the boy from seven.
They made eye contact.
If Hal had killed him there and then it would have shown ruthlessness but it was too difficult. He only had a sword and he wasn't going to risk throwing it or climbing the tree to get to the boy.
No. He nodded once and continued running, feeling strange.
Onwards he went. His lungs were burning now and his legs felt like foam but the others still hadn't caught up with him. Maybe they'd given up.
He'd completely lost his bearings that was for sure.
Two canons in quick succession made him skid to a stop again. Someone was fighting. The cameras weren't on him.
He sat down and tried to restore some oxygen to his brain.
It would be nice to know where Alex was.
He realised, sitting there, that the sun was already going down. The arena, apparently, had a different idea of what constitutes a "day" than he had.
He realised something else, too. Traditionally, the anthem was played at night to signal the end of the day. In these games it had been played with the sun.
He leaned against a tree and breathed slowly. Here was another problem; he'd never planned on sleeping away from the cornucopia.
He hissed in annoyance and got to his feet again, walking once more into the gloom of the forest. Maybe he could just avoid everyone until the very end.
Something landed behind him.
He was going to turn to face his attacker, his hand tightening around the handle of his sword, but something sharp dug in between his shoulder blades. It hurt and he took a deep breath, about to say something when they beat him to it.
"Why didn't you kill me?"
He could have cried.
It was Alex.
Instead, he swallowed around the lump in his throat and blinked his eyes rapidly. He prayed that the country was watching them.
"I want you to win."
The pressure on his back dropped for a second, betraying her surprise. "What?" She pressed what he assumed to be the blade of the knife he'd given her further into his skin, drawing blood. He could feel it soaking through the light shirt he was wearing and squirmed uncomfortably.
"I didn't kill you because I want you to win." He repeated, licking his lips. "Can I turn around?"
"No. No, you'll do something – "
"Are you deaf, woman? I said it twice. I want you to win." He spat, shaking. "I'm not going to hurt you."
"If you go back on your word the whole of Panem will hate you forever." She said, clearly trying to convince herself that he was telling the truth. She dropped the pressure again and took a step backwards.
Hal bent to put the sword on the ground before turning to face her, hands raised.
"Trust me." He whispered.
She was silent and her eyes were wide.
"Have you killed anyone yet?" He asked quickly, incredibly nervous. Her eyes were reflecting the diminishing daylight and making it difficult for him to think.
She squinted at him. "No. Have you?"
"Two." She looked a little shocked at this. "I have a plan – "
"I don't want to hear it."
"Please." He reached for her with a half-smile, as he would to someone he'd known his whole life. When she took another step backwards and raised the knife he couldn't blame her. "Hear it."
"Why? You can win this easily and go on to live happily ever after in the Capitol – "
"I don't want to."
"Neither do I!"
"You could just stay in your district. You could win so much food for those people – "
"So could you with yours."
"One has enough victors." He chuckled, stepping a little towards her again. "You can kill me in a moment if you want, but let me say what I'm thinking first."
He waited but she didn't move. She was stone.
"We work as a team until everyone else is dead. As soon as the last one is dead you kill me."
"As if you'd let me – "
"I would." He said sincerely, dropping slowly to his knees. "But let me do most of the fighting. If you got yourself killed it would be for nothing – "
"No." She shook her head, stepping back again. "There's Tom."
"Tom?"
"The boy I came here with."
"Oh, yes. He's fine – I saw him not far from here."
"So I could kill you now and form an alliance with him."
"But could you kill each other?"
"What?"
"You have no love for me." He was surprised at how difficult this was to put into audible words. "But you two grew up together – you know each other's families – "
"If it came to it I could do it."
"But it doesn't have to come to that."
"So you want me to kill you instead?"
"Yes."
They stared at each other for a minute. She was buying none of it and Hal could almost feel the cold dagger blade slicing through his throat.
"Be honest with me, Hal."
"Always."
"Why are you doing this?"
"Because your face is a pretty one." He licked his lips, trying to not choke on the tension in his throat. "And your personality is one which I admire. Whenever you were in the room I tracked you with my soul and I saw your patience and understanding and determination. You would make a good victor."
The cameras better have caught that.
Finally, he seemed to have touched her. She stepped closer again, the hint of a smile tickling her face in the ever growing darkness. "You're pretty hot too."
He laughed, relief bursting from his chest like water from a dam. "Thank you."
"Is that it? You – what – fancy me?" She laughed and sat in front of him. "That gives me an awful lot of power, you know."
"I know." He laughed and sat down too, leaning towards her slightly. "But I think you'd be powerful even without my weakness."
She sighed heavily and held her head in her hand. "How will I kill you?"
"Don't worry if you can't do it." He laughed again, trying to keep it light. "If it comes to that and you aren't up for it I can deal with it."
"What?"
"Trust me. It would be a blessing to die."
Alex stared at him. What a strange, sad boy. He seemed four times her age but he couldn't have been more than two years older than her.
She supposed that the only problem with this arrangement would be when she admitted to herself that she liked him more than anyone else she wasn't related to.
Quickly, so that he wouldn't have time to react, she cupped his face and kissed his cheek.
And she jumped away when a canon shot thundered through the air.
They stared at each other, too bewildered to react.
Another.
Another.
"How many is that?" She whispered, lips buzzing. He shook his head.
"Eleven?"
Another.
The silence which followed was a weight that seemed to press them down under the shrubs. The air was dark and almost sticky.
It was a moment before Alex realised she couldn't breathe.
They scrambled to their feet without a word, Hal stopping to collect the sword, and stumbled as far as they could as quickly as they could. It was like running through water and Alex was terrified that when she next tried to draw breath she wouldn't be able to.
Hal kept pace beside her for as long as he could but she quickly dropped back. It would be ridiculous to lose her to some trick played by the gamemakers after confessing his… if not love, his deep admiration for her. He took her hand and dragged her forward, certain that they would break out of this suffocating air any moment.
When they did, just before he thought he would like to give up, there was a physical relief in pressure around them and they crumpled to the floor. He felt light headed and he couldn't see or hear.
"Alex?" He tried to say, coughing and gasping. The only response for a long while was a slight increase in pressure on his hand.
"What the fuck was that?" She asked weakly, rolling onto her back. Her chest was rising and falling and silhouetted in the darkness of the twilight.
"I don't know. I think we should move further away." He coughed again, removing his hand from hers and trying to not look at her.
"Did you hear any more canons?"
"No." He crawled a few more meters away from the barrier of thick air, trying to drag her with him. "But I couldn't hear anything."
"Me neither."
"You have to move!"
"Give me a moment." She hissed, slapping at his hand. He smiled, despite himself.
She did eventually craw away from the danger zone, collapsing again to the floor beside him. "Do you want to just stay here tonight?"
He laughed. "It's a bit exposed, isn't it?"
"I don't care." She turned to face him, just the whites of her eyes visible now. "There's only a few of them left now. Chances are we'll be fine."
"That's quite a risk, playing this game with chances." He muttered but he was smiling. "More importantly: have you found anything edible in this place?"
While they were searching for food – there was an abundance of plants which Alex swore were edible – they heard another canon fire. Neither of them said "oh, I wonder who that was" because there was no point. They'd find out who was dead soon.
They didn't run into anyone for two whole days, during which the canons fired a grand total of five more times. That was a lot – added onto the six from the first day and the seven from the second. They each wondered silently whether the gamemakers were purposefully pushing them to being the only two left.
Despite this, Hal thought the games couldn't have gone better.
Alex had accepted him. Begrudgingly, but that was expected. Ultimately she'd decided he was at least useful and had let him stick by her for a while. They had spent the two days completely in each other's company and now they were talking as if they'd known each other forever. This was probably foolish, but he couldn't regret it.
"What's your favourite colour?" He asked quietly on the fourth night, eyes scanning the trees around them. She was lying with her head near his knees, staring up at the sky with a strange expression.
"Green. Or purple. You?"
"Red." He said quietly, looking down at his nails for a second. They had chipped, somehow, from the few hours of fending for himself.
"Red?"
He looked at her.
"Isn't that a bit in ya face?"
"Hey, I didn't tease you for your choice." He laughed, flicking a lumpy berry at her. She winked and turned her eyes back to the sky.
The air was still and he could hear her breathing. He could so easily touch her now – he could just rest his hand on hers or on her waist. It worried him.
Not as much as the movement of clothes far to his right.
He leapt lithely to his feet and put a hand on Alex's shoulder, keeping her hidden behind the tree he'd been sitting against. The night was drawing in again and darkness was creeping in around them.
"Hal, you twat."
"Daisy." He straightened his back for a moment but then reconsidered. She was lethal.
"What are you doing?"
He looked around, suggesting it was obvious. "I'm surviving."
"Why did you leave us?" She asked quickly, obviously hurt. He raised his eyebrows.
"To survive."
"But we could have worked together. You didn't even give us a day!"
"We'd have to kill each other eventually. What happened to the others?"
She just smiled.
"And, as you're here now, I'm going to have to kill you. I'd hoped someone else would do it because it will be difficult to return to our district with your family there but I'm sure they'll understand."
"You won't be going anywhere." She hissed.
He hoped the cameras were on them. The Capitol would want to see this.
Daisy slithered towards him and Hal had to move closer to the tree to conceal Alex. It was a useless move because it gave her away but he'd at least shown some intent. He hoped she appreciated that.
"Oh, who's that? Hello there, behind the tree. Come out, honey. You may as well join in." Daisy cooed, stopping less than three meters away from them.
Alex stood up slowly and Hal didn't need to look to know she was scowling.
"Did you seriously think he'd stay with you?" She asked Daisy, staying behind Hal. He was glad – she couldn't see him grinning.
Daisy saw, though. And anger glittered across her eyes.
"Who the hell are you?"
"She's going to win this, once I've killed you." He said quietly, holding his hand out to the side slightly as if to hide Alex from view.
He could feel her bristling like an angry cat behind him – he could practically hear her hissing and knew she'd spring forward as soon as she got the opportunity.
"You really think so? Oh dear."
There was a tiny moment where the arena stood still and Hal didn't know whether someone was expecting him to make the first move or not when Daisy flicked her arm out towards him, eyes wild.
But he knew her. He was expecting it and dropped to the floor before her arm had extended. He heard Alex drop too – she'd obviously seen the attack coming and followed his lead.
"You tried." He muttered, sweeping up his sword from the floor beside him and lunging forward. The distance was short and Daisy was slow. And Hal was defending Alex.
She died in an instant, blood frothing up in her mouth and shooting out of her stomach where Hal had thrust his sword. It was a quick death and she crumpled to the floor with the canon fire.
Hal wasn't even a little bit sad for her.
But he was expecting someone else to be nearby. There couldn't be more than five of them left in the arena now – the deaths had been heavy each day.
He whispered Alex's name, not daring to take his eyes away from the trees around them.
Silence replied.
Absolute ignorance shone on his face for a few seconds more until he looked at her lying still on the floor.
"Alex?"
The darkness was filling the arena now and he scrambled back to her side, trying to see her expression.
"Alex, I got her. She's dead but I think – " His words stopped in his mouth and backed into his chest, retreating from the handle sticking out of her chest.
He thought they'd both missed Daisy's blade.
The knife must have been three inches deep into her chest, slightly towards her left shoulder. It was a good hit and Hal wondered whether Daisy had actually been aiming for her all along.
He touched the wound lightly and his fingers became heavy with her blood. But the canon hadn't fired yet so her pulse was still beating and the tracker still considered her alive.
"Alex?"
She turned her pasty face slightly towards him.
"Alex? Alex, open your eyes."
He was panicking.
"Alex, look at me."
He touched her cheek with a shaking hand, feeling a narrow stream of warm water.
"Alex!" He hissed her name and crouched down beside her, putting his face next to hers. "Alex, you don't have to die. If you just hold on – "
"You idiot." Someone said loudly from behind him. One hand still tenderly touching her wound, Hal turned with a blind rage and tore the knife from her chest and flung it at the other tribute.
It was a good hit.
Tom fell to the floor with the knife sticking out of his throat, gurgling with the canon fire.
Turning back to Alex, he realised the awful mistake he'd made. Blood now flooded over her arm and onto the floor beside her and it seemed impossible that her canon hadn't fired yet
Her eyelids fluttered.
"Alex – "
She looked up at him and her eyes were bloodshot. Her lips parted and a long, rasping breath tore from between them. Hal was so close that he could feel the warmth fluttering against his cheek and, in the distraught panic, he lifted her in his arms and kissed her.
The canon fired.
The whole arena seemed to be holding its breath, watching and waiting to see what the young man would do. His eyes were closed and he'd hidden his face in her short hair, as if hiding from the scene would stop it from being true. Hal's pulse rattled through his ears and he wished that it would stop to let him become engulfed by the awful moment.
He dropped her to the ground and stumbled backwards on his heels, catching himself on his palms.
Well. There were two more people in the arena.
The hovercrafts would want to take Alex, Daisy and Tom away soon. They were probably already thinking of a way to push him away from the bodies and towards the living tributes.
He wouldn't be pushed. He leaned back towards Alex and touched her cheek lightly. He could hardly see now – the darkness was as thick as her blood on his hand – but he was close enough to see that her eyes were staring up into the sky.
How he longed for her to blink.
He sat there dumbly for a few minutes, just touching her cheek with his fingertips and thinking about how warm her skin still was.
A shiver ran down his back and he realised he couldn't stay. They had to take them away and fix them up and prepare them for returning to their districts. People who really knew her would mourn her and bury her…
And he would win the hunger games.
He pushed her hair off her face so he could see her properly. He took her hands gently and lay them by her sides, trying to conceal some of the awful blood. He was frozen there for a moment more, tears filling his throat and locking his muscles.
He stood up roughly and stormed a few steps away, gritting his teeth.
No.
He turned back and walked shakily back to her, completely confused about what he was doing. He was going to leave and never look back but here he was, drawn back to her like she was a magnet.
He dropped to his knees beside her head and touched her hair again. Slowly, so he had chance to stop himself if he'd wanted to, he bent down so his lips touched hers again.
They were turning cold.
It physically hurt him when he stood up again. He could feel the edges of her skin turning cold and he wanted to stay with her to keep her warm, even though he knew that was useless. So he tore himself away again and ran – he ran into the forest, away from the three dead bodies and towards the two living ones.
He'd find them. He'd kill them. He'd be the most depressed victor there had ever been. He'd make sure people knew he hadn't wanted to win.
Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he heard the hovercrafts take away the bodies. He wouldn't think about it now.
He focussed on moving forward. He ignored the tears that burst from his eyes and he ran forward, aiming unconsciously towards the cornucopia.
There they were. Two people battling it out, maybe thinking they were the only ones left.
He didn't have a clue who they were. It was one boy and one girl and the girl had long hair that fluttered around her as she danced around, avoiding the boy's knife thrusts which glittered in the darkness. Hal didn't even slow down. He powered onwards and crashed into the girl, who was facing the other way, and knocked her to the ground.
He broke her neck swiftly, kicking out at the boy at the same time.
As the canon went he felt the boy topple down on top of him. He was heavy and would have completely winded Hal if he hadn't been so full of adrenaline but he was quick and had kept hold of the knife.
Aware that the blade was nearby, Hal reached upwards for the boy's neck. He couldn't see. All he could do was grope with his fingers and twist quickly, before the knife could find a way to pierce his skin.
The canon went.
Hal shoved the boy's body from him and the cornucopia flooded with light, blinding Hal and reminding him that he was covered in tears and blood.
How many people had he killed?
The anthem deafened him and he rolled over to face the ground, hiding his face as he fought off the last few sobs for Alex. He heard some announcement. He heard the hovercraft.
He sat up and forced a smile, looking straight up into the hovercraft for as long as he could. The lights were horribly bright and the thought of having to be around people made his head hurt.
But he smiled, all the same.
He smiled and was taken away to the Capitol where they would clean him up and make him presentable again.
It was a week later. He hadn't seen his family yet but he didn't want to. He hadn't seen anyone except the Capitol staff and he had learned to make his smile convincing which was a good job really – it was time for his victory interview with Caesar Flickerman.
The lights were dazzling but he was used to that now.
He stepped onto the stage, dashing in a fully black suit, and batted a timid smile towards the audience.
The stage was large and he walked slowly, steadily. By the time he reached Flickerman the audience had become more subdued, eventually picking up his mood.
Caesar, too, was less jovial than usual. "Our victor, everyone." He said with an uncertain gesture towards Hal. This gesture extended to a small pat on Hal's arm which he found oddly comforting.
"Do sit down." Caesar said gently, waiting for the victor to sit before taking his own seat. The studio was silent.
"First of all, I have to congratulate you on winning one of our shortest hunger games." Caesar said with a smile towards the audience, who obligingly cheered. "I must say, you were a vicious tribute."
"Well, I had to be." He said softly, voice amplified by the tiny microphone taped to his jacket. He wouldn't have to raise his voice too high to get himself heard, which was a relief.
"Now, I know this is going to be difficult for you." Caesar said softly, genuinely looking sorry for mentioning it. "The girl from seven."
"Alex." He said softly, blinking slowly and looking down.
The studio sat under a very heavy hush.
"Yes. As you can imagine, we are all very interested in how your feelings for her developed."
Hal looked at him steadily, wondering whether it was worth a fight if he refused to say another word.
No. It was best to get it over and done with.
"I saw her at the reapings. She was powerful from the beginning and then when we were training she was so… she was so calm. She was talking to people like they were going to be friends forever and she seemed to make everyone love her." He laughed quietly. "I suppose it's what you'd call love at first sight."
There were some noises from the audience which he knew would be echoed across the whole of Panem. Oohs and aahs and muttering about how sad it all was.
"She was stunning in her interview."
"I think we can all agree there." Caesar said softly, leaning towards Hal again. "Tell us – how did you feel when you first saw her in the arena?"
"You mean when I nearly stabbed her?"
"Yes. We were all shocked to see a tribute from such a competitive district being so generous with life."
He wasn't sure he liked that.
"She was already important to me. When I think about how close I came to killing her before we'd even got to speak – " He shuddered, looking down again.
"And what about later, when she nearly did the same to you?"
Hal laughed. "Oh, I loved it. You could see how wonderful she was – she was fully prepared to stab me in the back right there but when she understood me better she…" He trailed off, smiling wistfully. "It should be her sitting here."
"But you did all the work – surely you deserved to win." Caesar said carefully, not looking at the audience. That was nice – it was like he was trying to make it a private, personal conversation.
"I wanted her to live. Not me." Hal said shortly, feeling the eyes on him despite Caesar's best efforts. The host realised this and sat back in his chair, moving the conversation on.
"Talk us through your kills. It's been a while since we've seen a tribute so… handy." He said with a small wink to the audience, producing a few shakey giggles. Hal offered them another smile.
"The first was in the way. The second, I needed to get away. The third…" He just shook his head. "The fourth was anger. Five and six were because I needed everyone else to be dead."
"Don't take this the wrong way, but killing those tributes seemed very easy for you. What was going through your mind?"
He hardly needed to answer.
Instead, he sighed and looked down. He looked at the audience – a sea of expectant, unfamiliar faces – and licked his lips. He turned towards Caesar again and just shrugged.
"What do you think?"
The studio was silent again.
"Well, then." Caesar said awkwardly, clapping his hands to his knees. "I'd love to spend more time talking to you – this is a truly heartbreaking tale and we all feel desperately for you – but we have to let you go to the President's party now."
"Of course." Hal got to his feet, looking at the audience again.
"We will join you again when you've settled back into your district but until then have a wonderful time and try to not be too sad – I'm sure Alex would want you to be happy."
Hal laughed openly and took Caesar's hand in a firm grasp, flashing a glistening grin to the audience. As they clapped and cheered he looked back at the host and let his smile fall slightly as he whispered –
"You know nothing."
All Hal had to do now was to smile for the rest of his life and put on a brave face for the whole country. This was easy, seeing as within an hour of leaving the President's party he had left the land of the joyous living and had joined Alex.