A/N: Alright, bear with me, this is a long one. I could have split it up into more chapters, but *shrugs* why make you wait? I hope you enjoy this.

This is officially the end of Fair Fights.

Even though it's just a twoshot, it certainly is nice to have a completed story back under my belt. Please review!

I don't own Legend or its plot or characters – Marie Lu does. I'm just playing with them.

I'm still stunned in place, feeling like I'm breathing someone else's air. Metias's air. I can't see his body through the dust anymore. I know I have to run. I know Thomas will see the dust and put it together.

He murdered my brother. And he knows I know.

I turn and fall to the ground below, letting the impact numb me. Even though there's a whole building between Metias's body and mine, I still see him clearly.

I run. I run as fast as I can. I let the oxygen rip through my body and burn my lungs, burn me from the inside out. I want to scream. I want to ignite.

As soon as I feel that I'm a good distance away (roughly 2.7 miles), I climb up on the nearest building and jump from roof to roof, making my way quickly to Ruby. I know I'll only have so much time to grab the necessities. I don't know where I'll go, but I know I'm going to have to live my life on the run. Why did he kill Metias?

No. I can't think about that. I have to get to safety.

The next building is mine. I'm a couple floors short from our - my - apartment. I jump from the roof onto a balcony a few stories from mine. I pause to take a breath before I start climbing and that's when I hear the car skid to a stop at the entrance of the building. I instantly crouch down, letting the shadows hide me and hoping the owner of this balcony doesn't come out here to investigate.

I watch as soldiers come out of the car and instantly salute. Then Commander Jameson exits. I hold my breath.

I want to laugh. Less than an hour ago I was the predator, chasing a criminal. Now I'm the prey, maybe even a criminal. No one at Drake ever taught us military protocol if your family is betrayed and killed by one of our own.

I can't see Commander Jameson anymore, but I'm certain she's making her way up to our apartment. Part of me considers ditching the hope of gathering supplies and leaving. Another part of me wants to know why they're here. Surely if they were here to kill me, the soldiers would be making rounds instead of just standing at the entrance.

I'm not ready to turn my back on the Republic yet. I need to know why.

I sigh and make my way up to my balcony. Opening the slider door, I'm unsurprised to see that Commander Jameson has already invited herself in. I do find a small sense of satisfaction when she turns with a tilt of her head towards the slider. The one sure sign I caught her off guard. It's gone as soon as it came though.

"You let Day get away."

"Thomas killed my brother."

We stare at each other. Evaluating. Analyzing.

There's not much for me to analyze, but I still do anyways. I've analyzed Commander Jameson ever since Metias was inducted into her command, making her instantly one of my role models. I know my talent would still be an uphill battle against her experience. I'm not looking for a fight with her. Not yet.

It's a shallow victory when she breaks first.

"What were you going to do, Little Iparis, just run away?"

"I wanted to collect my thoughts. I needed to. I deserve to."

She sighs, but nothing else about her demeanor gives me any sense of sympathy.

"Your brother was a traitor to the Republic."

I raise my eyebrows in a silent challenge. Jameson rolls her eyes and glares at me. "I don't order my best soldiers to be killed for no good reason. You know as well as I that the Republic needs its best fighters. I didn't want to lose Metias."

So. She ordered it. She ordered Thomas to kill him. And Thomas did it. After they kissed.

I struggle to reign in my anger. We wait a few minutes, both letting my breathing calm down. When I speak again, I'm grateful my voice is cool.

"Why?"

"He hacked into the deceased civilians database. He told Thomas that he began to get paranoid that the Republic had involvement in the deaths of your parents. That it was a conspiracy. He told Thomas that he didn't find anything though. Then he started asking questions and people were getting suspicious. He started spreading propaganda about the Republic to others. June, he committed treason." Her words are terse, lacking in feeling. Tears slip from my eyes. Angrily, I wipe them away.

That's not Metias.

I know it. I know it like I know the Republic pledge. But I can't trust Commander Jameson. I need time to process and research. So, for the first time in my life, I do what anyone would expect from a fifteen year old girl.

I let myself sob. I let myself be helpless, weak. And it's easy to act.

Commander Jameson buys it. Her mouth thins from the tight, straight line to a softer frown. She sits next to me on the couch and pats me on the back, albeit awkwardly. After ten minutes and sixteen seconds, I slow my breathing enough to look up at her with wide, teary eyes.

"Why did he do it? He knew he would get caught." The tears spill over.

"He clearly never got over his grief. It happens." It's the best she'll get at comforting me.

I nod though, acting like I put all my trust in her. I know she's noticed how much I look up to her.

She sighs, "Little Iparis, you and I are alike. And I'm down a soldier. I know you're hurting, but I would like to graduate you early and put you under my command. What do you say?"

I'm careful here. I keep my expression hopeful, careful to show some level of excitement about this. Is this why she came here? I try to keep my act convincing.

"I-I-I'm honored, Commander, but I don't know that I could work with Thomas, I mean Lieutenant Bryant."

Jameson tilts her head, a sympathetic gesture. "Understandable. You wouldn't be in his unit for obvious reasons. And of course, I'll give you some time to grieve. But Iparis, you nearly caught Day tonight. You're the only one who's seen him. We think you could catch him."

It's her highest level of praise. I bow my head as a sign of gratitude, "I appreciate that. Then yes, I would very much like to be on one of your patrols. And I would very much like to help capture Day. How did you know it was him?"

"It's my job to know, Iparis. Great. I will need you at Batalla Hall tomorrow however to give a full recount of your meeting with Day."

With that, she exits.

The next few months come and go in a blur. Commander Jameson helped me plan Metias's funeral and it was stunning. Grudgingly, I let Thomas come - if only to keep appearances up with Commander Jameson though. He knew better than to speak to me.

I began my drills with my new unit as a cadet. I graduated. I am given my first mission. Jameson assigned Day to someone else since he knows my face, but I've been tracking some Patriots and giving the person on Day's trail tips.

But most importantly, I've been searching for a hint of what Metias left behind. I've lifted every floorboard in the apartment, plastered and re-plastered the walls. I've spent every night this week reading his old journals in tears.

And now, I finally found it. I read his virtual journal entries closely. Tears slip over my eyes. Surprise and shock fills me. But I know, without a doubt, that it's all true. I think back on every memory and connect it to these words. I can't believe how stupid I've been. We've all been.

After I finish reading, I delete it immediately.

That night I spend hours just staring at the ceiling.

It takes me another month to prepare and gather supplies.

I've slowly sold all most of my belongings. Small things that wouldn't raise suspicion. I've also cut my hair, keeping it tucked away in a cap. I put in contacts to make my eyes green. I have blue too. It's not much, but it'll throw people off for a bit.

I've gathered clothes that will let me blend into the streets while creating hidden pockets for extra Notes. I've disabled tracking devices in whatever weapons I can to sell on the black market later. I've stashed weapons and clothing all over the city in places that hopefully only I can find. I know it's little use to carry all of this at once though.

I can no longer be a Republic soldier - not like this. I will disappear as easily as the Republic made my mom, my dad, and then Metias disappear. The Iparis's will be gone from this world. I've made my peace with it.

I haven't made my peace with leaving Ollie though. He's what's taken me so long to leave, but I know I have to. I've cried into his fur nearly every night for the past two weeks.

After one last crying session, I pat Ollie's head one more time. Fill his bowls one last time. Then I leave the rest of his kibble out, knowing he'll get into when he needs it. By the time that brand new bag is finished, they'll have no doubt realized I'm gone and ransack my apartment. Hopefully Ollie will be taken care of after that. I gulp and close my eyes.

I turn to the balcony without another glance, ignoring his whimpers, and climb to the rooftops. I intend to make my way to the slum sectors at first. They'll be the easiest place for me to stay hidden.

For a couple of weeks, I stay just inside the slum sectors. Far enough away that the soldiers leave me alone, but only so far in where I can still adjust. There's a small part of me that resents myself for abandoning my station and my home, particularly the part of me that likes chicken. But I do alright.

I try my best not to think about how I've turned my back on the Republic, but it's hard to when four to seven times a day, my face pops up on a JumboTron with the bol letters. Each time, I can't keep the shame at bay.

I don't know if being "missing" is a sign of forgiveness or if I'm just being optimistic, but sometimes, when I've hardly eaten and I miss Ollie, I think that I could just turn myself in and maybe everything could go back to normal.

That's when I started finding myself in Lake. Particularly the apartment complex ruins. The ocean breeze gives me a respite from the Los Angeles humidity from the height and the salty taste nearly fills me some days.

Besides, it only took a few visits before my hair lost the shine and tameness the picture of me in the JumboTron displays.

From that point, I found myself in Lake more and more, as well as the other slum sectors like Winter and Alta. I preferred Lake though and its proximity to the ocean.

After five months, one week, and four days, I've officially run out of the Notes I started with. Don't get me wrong, I haven't been foolish enough not to come up with ways to get more - odd jobs here and there, never staying too long in one place, betting on Skiz fights (who would have thought I'd enjoy watching a Skiz fight?) - but I am now officially on my own. My picture shows up less and less on the JumboTron now (usually three times a week, two when the Colonies are winning). And I look less and less like my picture on the JumboTrons.

It took me about five weeks to start selling the weapons I hacked. It was also five weeks when I got into my first fight when someone had found a weapon I had hid and was looking to sell. Didn't end too well for the other guy.

Eight weeks and three days, a young girl gave me a dust bomb. When I examined it for too long, she put her hands on her hips and boldly declared that I had no idea what it was. After a bit of a stare down, I admitted that I didn't know. The fear was keen still at that point and I was ready to make a run, eyeing all exits, noting all the people. Then the girl grinned and said she was going to teach me. That's when I made my first dust bomb.

On my 79th day (about two months and eighteen days), I finally stole my first item in a bazaar. The only thing noticeable about the act was my nervousness. If the owner hadn't been so busy, I would have certainly been caught. Now, it's second nature. On the couple of occasions that I have been too cocky or nervous, I've gotten away unscathed. The first time, I outran the owner (pretty easy seeing as leaving his stall would undoubtedly leave him the victim of more thievery). The second time, the stall's owner's son caught me. Luckily, he didn't alert his dad and we found. . . alternative methods of payment.

So yeah, my first kiss as one of the slum sector's poor was the second time I got caught stealing, or my 126th day in the slums. The first kiss of a whole new life.

It was about two weeks after that, my 141st day, when I dug through trash for food the first time. It's still as gross as it was then, but sometimes there are some good gets. Every single time though I am so thankful for my vaccinations, even if they aren't up-to-date anymore.

And finally, 19 days later, the only trace of my original life was the four knives I hid - two in my boots, one tucked into my waist, and the smallest laid in my pocket. I kept the two in my boots hidden for emergencies as they were military-grade and would certainly draw suspicion.

I was partially in relief. I was completely starting over now. I carried dust bombs, I stole, I scavenged, I traded on the black market. It was all becoming second nature.

I understood a lot more about the poor than I ever would have prior. Fights are worth it over the smallest knife you have to sell. A loaf of bread that likely makes or breaks the month's rent is a grudgingly acceptable loss. Asking for help to prevent bandits only results in soldiers robbing your stall. Trying to solve the problem on your own likely resolves in a broken bone and more stolen products.

The one thing I ached for though was running. I missed being a soldier, the training, the fighting. I couldn't be as active as I wanted here without being noticed, so instead, I found small pockets in the shadows to train at night. And during the day, I slowly found myself investigating more. I stayed quiet, listening in on conversations - even the smallest complaints revealed things I had never even considered before. I went to Skiz fights and eventually was able to pick out the Patriots when I saw them.

And then one day in Lake, I found the metal plates in the wall with numbers on them. I knew this must have been what Metias referred to in his journals. I traced as many of them as I could without being noticed. Sometimes spending weeks away so as not to draw attention.

But the one thing I could not find - no matter how hard I searched - was the gorgeous vigilante Day.

I don't know why I found myself looking for his blond hair in every crowd. Part of me wanted that familiarity. He reminded me of my old life. Sometimes I blamed him from launching me into this one. I can't blame Metias. He's dead. Blaming myself leaves me a mess. Blaming Thomas makes me irrationally angry, and then sad. And blaming Commander Jameson is like blaming the Republic, which makes it the hardest when I still feel chained to it. So, when I need to blame someone, I blame him. I blame the gorgeous angel that was trying to save someone and cure them.

And that leaves me with a whole bunch of confusing emotions.

On my 183rd day in this new life, we pretty much stumble into each other. We're both leaving a bar, pretty tipsy. He's holding the door open for his companion (girlfriend?) and as she exits, one of the gamblers from the Skiz fight in the back gets rambunctious when his pick loses, shoving me into Day.

"Hey!" I shout, but it's lost to the defeat, and I'm too busy trying to stop the world from spinning under me to try again.

An arm wraps around my waist and his breath is warm on my neck as he chuckles.

I look up and give him a sheepish smile, "Sorry."

He shrugs, his hand still resting on my waist. "Not your fault, sweetheart."

I blush, remembering the pet name from another boy in another time. Drunkenly, I realize that this boy looks remarkably like that one. I falter.

The boy, Day, gently pushes me out the door. I'm suddenly grateful that my drunkenness masks my shock.

"You gonna be okay?" Day asks me, looking me up and down. When his eyes meet mine, I smirk. His answering wink confirms that he did indeed indulge himself during his inspection.

Carefully, I rest my hand on his chest. The gentleness and nearness makes us both draw in an extra breath. "Yeah, I'll be fine. But you should probably go find your girlfriend." I smile, taking a step back and giving a little wave. As I turn around, he shouts, "She's not my girlfriend, ya know?"

I turn around, my smile bigger, "Yeah, I know."

He shakes his head. "I'm Daniel, by the way!" He calls. I pause. Daniel?

I tilt my head in surprise and I know he doesn't miss it. I laugh, hoping to play it off, "June!" I tell him.

His eyebrows come together and then he's jogging to catch up to me. "How do you know who I am?"

I bite my lip. "Perhaps that conversation can wait until the next time, Daniel."

We're both just drunk enough to let it go. After another moment of staring, my body suddenly ablaze, Day stretches his hand out.

"A date then. It was nice meeting you, June. Until next time."

I relax and smile, "Likewise."

For weeks after that, Day is all I can think about. When I sobered up later on, I was finally able to process the fact that I just re-met Day. And we flirted!

Not that that's anything too special, but wow, he is just as beautiful as I remembered, even with dirt dusting his cheeks and smudging his halo of hair. Our meeting somehow felt inevitable though, so I'm not too surprised that our paths did finally cross once more. I'm just grateful they crossed when I'm in this new life, this new June.

It takes all I have in me not to return to that same bar every day.

33 days after our re-meeting, he finds me.

"June!" I spin around instantly. It's not often that someone calls my name.

And there he is. Casually leaning against the wall, sun bathing him. He's not an angel. He's a god.

I give him a small smile, "Day," I pause, "Or do you prefer I call you Daniel?"

He smiles, "You're cute when you're nervous, sweetheart," he singsongs. I raise my eyebrow at his avoidance. He shrugs.

"If I recall, you owe me some answers too, yeah?"

He walks over to me, a good eight inches taller than me. "If I recall, you owe me a date, yeah?" I mock, crossing my arms.

His chuckle warms my body, "Quite right. It's not fair you seem to know about me and I know so little about you, June." His voice sounds so intimate. I shiver. He cocks his head in amusement. "A date's a great way for me to get to know you too, don't you think so?"

I nod, not trusting my voice. The blush gives me away anyways.

"How did you find me?" I wonder as we walk through the street bazaar, sharing slices of oranges from a can.

"Ah, I think I get the first question," He grins at me with raised eyebrows.

I laugh, relenting, "Yeah, yeah, fine. What do you wanna to know?"

"Well first of all, how do you know me?"

I roll my eyes, "Everyone knows who you are."

He stares at me, waiting patiently. My nerves are starting to get the best of me as I scan the crowd, my subtle way of fidgeting. I sigh.

"We met once. You didn't tell me your name, but I figured it out. And before I say anymore, I need you to know that I was a completely different person then. . . Despite the fact that what I'm about to tell you completely contradicts that."

His stares stays on me and he looks thoughtful. I know he's trying to place me. I move us into the shadows and quickly remove my green contacts.

"My hair was longer - in a high ponytail. I was wearing a Republic cadet uniform," I whisper.

Our eyes meet. He squints, trying to imagine me with similar features and longer hair. I see the recognition literally open his face.

"You were trying to arrest me," He muses, "I hurt your brother."

My heart flutters and I squeeze my eyes, "Yes."

I breathe in and out slowly, and thankfully, he doesn't immediately demand more from me. He gives me this moment. Carefully, I put the contacts back on and we return to the street. I take a few more seconds to compose myself before I look at him.

"You called yourself a 'legend' and combine that with the fact that you were a one-man operation trying to obtain plague cures and suppressants, I put it together. Too professional to just be anybody. Too kind to be a Patriot."

He snorts at that, "Yeah, damn right. Goddy trots." We smile and walk in silence comfortably for a few minutes. "But what about you? You were a soldier, goddy hellbent on taking me in. Absolutely relentless," he mutters quietly enough so only I can hear. I'm thankful. No need for anyone else to know.

"You got away when I was distracted," I take a deep breath here, preparing for the next part, "Distracted by my brother being murdered by his second-in-command, his best friend, and well, likely lover."

Day whistles under his breath. "Dramatic, yeah?"

I smile just a bit, "Yeah. . . Anyways, that was when you used the dust bomb. And I was just so. . . stricken. I didn't know what to do. So I started running home. By the time I got there though, Metias' - my brother - Commander was there. She's cold. She gave the order to kill him. And she wanted me to graduate early to fill his spot. I didn't know what to think, so I just cried for a bit and tried to process. Eventually, I agreed and began my training and mission."

Day looks at me wide eyed, "Goddy Republic trots. I'm so sorry. That's. . . horrible."

I nod, "It was."

"Why did she want your brother killed?" Day asks hesitantly.

I look at him and smile as best as I can manage right now. By the look on his face, it's not much. "He learned some things about the Republic he wasn't supposed to. Did some things he wasn't supposed to to get that information. They thought he was a threat, treasonous. When Commander Jameson told me this, I didn't believe it. After I regained enough energy to begin training and processing again, I tore our apartment apart, searching desperately for answers. All while trying to act like I wasn't going insane.

"Eventually, I found it. It was in his journals. A bunch of misspelled words, all missing one letter. When I unscrambled them, it led me to a website I knew he left for me. So I hacked into the Internet and found it. He left six journals entries for me. He left me everything he knew." I trail off, feeling small.

Then I turn to Day, "I imagine you want to know."

He surprises me when he shrugs. He pulls me into him gently by the wrist. "Sure," he muses, "It'd be nice to have all my suspicions confirmed, but that can wait until later. Today, I just want to get to know you, June. I meant it when I promised you a date. Nothing you said has changed that."

I smile at him and his hand tangles in my fingers as we keep walking. We're getting closer to the docks and I can see the ocean. Day leans down and picks up some sea daisies. "My mom loves these," he murmurs. "For you."

I blush, "Thank you. Sea daisies have become one of my favorite things about my new life."

"Mm. . . So why did you leave your rich life behind?"

I sigh, "I don't quite know. I just. . . I just couldn't pretend to love the Republic once I found out they took away my brother, my mother and my dad. I never even got to know my mom and dad. I figured it might be best to leave before they get me too. And," I pause, trying to find the words then sigh, frustrated and shaking my head, "I don't know. I was just different after all that and needed to take a different path. I still feel annoyingly loyal to the Republic, but more loyal to the idea of a new Republic, you know?"

I shake my head, "I'm sorry. This sounds so bad. Don't get me wrong, that life was easy and good, and I may have even been fine. But I didn't feel loyal like the way I was expected to and I worried it would get me killed. At least here if I die, it's by my own doing."

Day takes a few minutes to respond. It's agonizing.

"That's a hard situation. On the one hand, you chose to be impoverished and I think you're a fool for that, but," he shrugs, "You feared for your life. You wanted control. I get that."

I nod, slowly, "It's easier to hide here. And easier to find things out. I don't know, maybe someday we can change things. I believe that we can here. I never believed it before. Hell, I never even considered change before."

I smile, "The people are on our side here. I love that."

Day gives me a sideways grin, "Yeah, yeah they are. . . You really think we can change things here? More than those rich trots?"

"Oh yeah," I laugh as I lean against the wall, looking out to the ocean. When I look back at Day, his eyes pierce me and his arm above me forces me to stay in place. I blush once again, and he chuckles. His hand reaches out, traveling down my arm slowly, then teasingly playing with the pads of my fingers. I turn my hand to capture his. He tilts his head and grins.

I whisper as he nudges closer, "So tell me, how did you find me?"

He smirks against my jaw line, planting kisses up to my ear, before whispering against it, "I just searched for the most beautiful girl I had ever seen." I shiver.

"Are you referring to the way I looked when we met in the alley or the bar?" A small moan escapes me as he moves down to my neck. He hums against my neck in thought and it drives me crazy. My hand tightens in his. "Both, but I think I preferred the way you looked at the bar."

I smile despite myself.

"Is June your real name?" He asks, surprising me.

"Yes. Is Daniel yours?"

"Yeah."

"Why did you tell me to call you Daniel?"

He shrugs, "I don't give out my street name lightly."

"Makes sense. Which do you prefer I call you?"

His smirk is suddenly as dangerous as our first meeting.

"Whichever you end up screaming, sweetheart."

And with that, his lips are on mine, hungry. The sugary taste of orange juice lingers and makes me crave more of him.

And as the sunset sets, a single syllable escapes into the air loudly.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed the read! Maybe I'll make a smut off of it, but for now, I'm pretty satisfied with the ending. Review and let me know if you were!