disclaimer - do not own.

. : : c r a z y for you : : .

Part One

It's hard for you to convince yourself that she can manage some things on her own. After all, you want to protect her in every way possible. Even from herself.

Especially from herself.

So it's not that far off to think this way – at least, that's what you tell yourself. It's okay to take extra care of her, to coddle her. To baby her. Because at any second she could collapse. Explode. Detonate.

After all, she's the crazy one, right?

You try and tell yourself; yes, she's the crazy one, not me. Because if she's crazy, and I'm crazy, who will protect us?

You don't want the answer to that question.

You can't think for one second that you're insane, even if you know deep down that you are. You can't allow yourself to think like that, so you just focus on keeping her mind at bay.

It's not too hard, if you have her in your company.

You're the only one she seems to listen to most of the time, and your heart swells and constricts at the thought.

What if I'm not there? Who will she listen to?

You push the thought from your head. File it into the back of your mind that you have so carefully labeled "Insanity". Don't pay attention to it, and hopefully it won't fester and boil over.

Instead, you focus on the simple things: her laughter, her smile. The way her bright green eyes would sparkle every time you look at her. You cling to those things with everything you've got.

You remember when you first met her.

She was always very frail looking, but you remember her before she lost it.

She always had this cheerfulness about her. This sort of full, completeness surrounding her. You didn't see it much, because the Games sucked that cheerfulness from her the moment she stepped into the arena. The Games had that sort of effect.

You decided the moment you saw her that you would protect her with everything you had.

If you couldn't let her keep her innocence, the least you could do is keep her life.

She was terrified after she'd gotten picked. You looked as other girls from District 4 we're eyeing her with envy. Hatred. Coming from a Career district, they were begging to be picked.

But not her.

Not Annie.

After the hour of goodbye's, you decided to take a trip to her room. Mags had already gone off to visit the boy tribute, so you decide to check up on this terrified dewy-eyed girl.

For some reason, you feel this extreme need to console her. To reassure that it'll be okay. Even though you it won't be.

You give her a soft smile as you enter her room.

"Hey," you greet casually.

She doesn't reply, but her eyes are trained on you as you take a seat next to you. You wonder what's going on in her head, but you already know. She's replaying her last moments with her family, clinging onto some desperate unrealistic hope that she'll come back home. Alive.

You don't sugarcoat it. You tell her how horrible it's going to be. You tell her that if she comes out alive, she will never be the same. Maybe if you knew then what would happen to her, you wouldn't have said this.

You tell her you're going to do everything you can to keep her alive.

She smiles at you; with a small 'thank you' and you decide that she needs to be left alone for now. There's a lot ahead of her, and too much at once may be too much to handle.

Part of you is angry with her. How can she be so delicate?

She needs to be strong if she ever wants to make it out alive.

You clench your fists, deciding you will make her strong.

It's not as easy as you initially think. Making her strong. She's so damn reluctant that you want to give up, but you don't because you promised yourself you'd do this for her. For this bright eyed wonder.

You often get frustrated at her stubbornness, but there's no time for frustration because in a matter of days she'll be faced with twenty-three other opponents, all out to kill her.

You coach her through it all, the interview, the ceremony, the training. You think she appreciates what you're doing for her, but you can't really be sure. Part of you is guilty that you haven't spent any time with the boy tribute, but then again Mags had sensed you wanted this girl for yourself so she focused on the boy.

It's almost time to see her off.

Tomorrow is the Games and you won't see her again until she makes it out alive.

If she makes it out alive.

She's a little more confident now, but perhaps she doesn't realize the enormity of what's to come.

As you see her off you give her a reassuring smile, lightly ruffling her hair. She turns, smiling back. But the smile is forced. Fake, like most of the ones she's given you so far.

She's trying to be brave, and you want so badly to see a real smile.

59, 58, 57, 56, 55, 54…

You're looking forward to seeing her lips curve upwards naturally, light like air.

As she disappears from sight, you turn to meet up with Mags, and hope everything you taught her will somehow be enough to keep her alive.

Maybe the reasoning is selfish, but you don't think of that.

24, 23, 21, 20, 19, 18…

You sit down, surrounded by possible sponsors and bloodthirsty spectators and you watch the fear nestled in her expression. You watch, captivated, and for a second it almost seems as though those emerald orbs flicker directly to you.

11, 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4…

You watch, imagining a bright smile painting her face, replacing the one of sheer terror as the sixty seconds count down to one.

You watch.

3, 2, 1…

my first hunger games fic :3 let me know what you think!