From The Treaty of the Treason. In the penance for their uprising each district shall offer up a male and female tribute between the ages of 12 and 18 at a public reaping.

These tributes will be delivered to the custody of the Capitol then transferred to a public arena where they will fight to death until a lone victor remains.

Henceforth and forevermore, this pageant shall be known as the Hunger Games.

Chapter 4

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Natasha's P.O.V-

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Steve stares at me for a couple of minutes then turns his attention to stare at something in the far distance. His face crunches up, as his eyes harden and his mouth pulls into a thin line. Biting my bottom lip, I slip my hands under my knees and absent mindedly run my hands through the sand as I stare at him. He seems be in a trance. My only option is to wait.

I watch as his fingers trace along the slightly damp sand and enclose around two small daisies. He scoops them up and presents them to me. I reach out to take them cautiously Once they are wrapped in my hands Steve speaks, in a small whisper staring out into the sky.

"I don't know… I guess I felt like I had to." My eyebrow creases.

"Why? Why did you feel like you had to? My brother, why did you spar his life? I'm truly grateful, you don't know how grateful I am, but I just want to know why."

Steve gives me a rueful smile before brushing back a stray strand of hair from my face. "The Russian Lullaby."

I do a double take, my eyes zooming in on his blue ones. The Russian Lullaby? "What?"

Steve chuckles at the puzzled expression on my face. Before I can say anything else, he goes on to explain. "We were five years old. You were wearing a plaid red dress with your hair in two braids instead of one. It was the first day of school." He reaches up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. "My father pointed you out to me and told me, 'See that girl. I was going to marry her mother, but she ran off with a miner.' I was confused and naive and I asked him why she would choose a miner over him. And he told me 'Because when he sang, the birds stopped to listen." Then later, during the assembly, the teacher asked if anyone knew the Russian Lullaby and your hand shot straight up. You went up, sat down on the stool and began singing and I swear all the birds outside stopped to listen." He shrugs. "After that I knew I was goner."

When he stops speaking, it's clear that he's staring at me waiting for a response. But I have none to give. I sit, puzzled as I try to piece together his words. Everything he said checks out. I did wear a plaid red dress my first day of school, my hair was in two braids and my father did take me to school. Later that day I did sing the Russian Lullaby, a song known to District 12. My father taught me a lot of songs in our time together and we spent it singing these beautiful tunes. But after my father died, all the songs that used to be sung in our house were stored away in my brain. After his death, I didn't want to sing again and my mother didn't want to hear it. Occasionally when Aiden was having a bad night, I would sing softly into his ear to sooth him back to sleep.

I stare at him and lean back on my hands, thinking. He paid attention to me. His father pointed him out to me. Has he liked me since we were 5 years old?

Steve continues when I don't say anything, "Ever since that day I've been trying to come up with the courage to talk to you, but I had no such luck. Then after your father died, something died inside of you that day too. You became isolated, broken and hardened. But you were still beautiful and I still liked you, but I was such a coward. And… when Aiden's name was called, my gaze automatically went on you. I knew Aiden was the only person in this entire world that you completely loved with all your heart. I knew it would wreck you if he went into the games and you'd do everything in power to make sure he lived. Of course you didn't notice when I looked over at you, your face was full of terror and misery. Once I saw you on stage, the memory of-" he stopped, unsure how to continue. But eventually he just pushes through, but his next words make chills run down my spine. "It reminded me of when I gave you the bread and I knew I had to do something. So," he shrugs with finality, "I volunteered."

I feel like he just dumped a bucket of cold water all over me and I stiffen, my eyes staring downcasted, unable to meet his eyes. He does remember. He didn't forget. He does remember that night he gave me the bread. But the question remains; why does he want to throw his life away to save my brother? He said he liked me, but this is a little extreme. He has to be doing this to get away from something. Anything. Because if he did all this for me, the guilt and debt I would owe him would be astronomical.

"Please tell me you didn't do all this," I gesture to the train, to the two of us. "... all because of a childhood crush. Please tell me you didn't sacrifice your life for me and my brother." I can feel the large knot settle in my stomach, awaiting his next words.

Steve immediately starts shaking his head in protest. "No. I can assure you that I didn't volunteer and risk my life in a deadly arena all for you. Even though you were a big part of the reason I volunteered, this wasn't all for you."

While that does make me feel better, my curiosity is peaked. Why did he volunteer then? What was the other reason? Could it be because of his family? Everyone knows that because he is the youngest of the two brothers, he would not be inheriting the bakery when he grows of age. His oldest brother would be taking it over. His second brother is already seriously dating the shoemaker's daughter and so he pretty much has a guaranteed career and future. Steve isn't dating anyone and he's not getting some business in the future. But that can't be it because he has plenty of options like Madge Undersee, the mayor's daughter who's has a thing for him for a while. Or Sharon Carter, a merchant girl whose family owns the clothing store. Everyone knows she's been pining after him for a while.

Was it because of his mother? She's a vile person and I can't imagine having to deal with her for 16 years. Maybe he reached his wits end with her and the abuse she inflicts on him.

Unsure of what to say next, I speak the first thing that comes to my mind. "Steve, I know about the abuse." It probably wasn't a good way to start off, but I was never one for being a smooth talker. "I know that your mom hurts you and your dad doesn't do anything to prevent and neither do any of your brothers. You're the only one that gets hurt." I pause, biting my bottom lip, before continuing. "Answer this one question for me." I take a deep breath, reaching out to grab Steve's hand giving him a slight squeeze. "Did you volunteer… to escape the abuse? To get away from how they treat you?" His head snaps towards me and I can see the pain in his eyes. He starts to protest and I raise an eyebrow in his direction which causes him to sigh in defeat. He can't lie to me. He knows that I already know he would be lying. He gives his head a small nod and I press my lips together, disapprovingly. He catches my disapproving look and holds his hands out placatingly,

"You can't judge me. You don't know what it's been like. Being the only person to be picked on and constantly degraded. By your own mother, no less." he says running his hand through his perfectly combed hair before dropping his hand in his lap. "I couldn't take it anymore. I figured this was a win-win. By volunteering, I get away from that awful woman, I spare Aiden from being in the games and I get the chance to talk to you. Besides, there is no way I am getting out of this." He looks into my eyes imploringly, obviously trying to get me to see things the way he sees them. "Your brother Aiden is safe and he can live. So will you." Steve whispers, muttering the last part. I almost scoff. I won't live. I have no chance in these games, but he does. He's strong, he's an excellent wrestler and would keep many busy in physical battle whereas I, if I get jumped I'm dead! I grip his hand harder forcing him to look at me again.

"Steve, there is 24 of us and only one will come out."

"Yes," comments Steve "and it's going to be you." I open my mouth to protest, but stop short of breath when Steve's blue eyes gaze back into my green ones capturing me in a hard lock stare. His eyes are just perfect shade of blue and so hypnotizing. He told me he liked me. I've known for a while my feelings for him. Who wouldn't like him? Everyone at our school did. I can feel my inner teenage girl swooning over this cute boy who I've had a crush on forever and knowing that my feelings are reciprocated makes me giddy with joy. My palms start getting sweaty causing the flowers in my hand to drop and my hands search around for them, but end up holding Steve's hand, our eyes never breaking. His eyes, for a split second, flicker to my lips as mine does his.

He starts to lean in.

I take a deep breath and hold it for a couple of seconds debating if I should meet him or tell him no. I can't find the energy to say no and I really want it. Why deny myself this? I'm going to die soon anyway and what better way to leave by having my first kiss be with Steve Rogers. The perfect, husky boy everyone at school would want and crave to be with... including me.

I lean in too, closing my eyes and breathing in deeply capturing Steve's sweet scent of honey and cinnamon.

My lips brush against his for the slightest second before I lean in more to deepen the kiss. His lips are warm and soft as opposed to the rough feeling of his hands on my face. All those years of baking has made his fingers and palm rough with callouses, although his aren't as bad as mine from being in the woods. My breathing hitches and my heart starts beating so loud that I'm pretty sure Steve can hear it.

His lips taste like cinnamon and honey, and he smells magnificent. I'm mesmerized by his scent that I don't even notice I've started pushing him down to the ground. I lean over him, our lips still touching and my hand resting on his chest, over his heart. It feels so amazing and so right. I take a deep breath and press my body against his, finally opening my eyes and realizing our position.

Immediately the kiss stops and I pull away slightly. I can feel my cheeks grow hot. Taking a deep breath to gain some of my senses back, I smile slightly in embarrassment, sitting up as I apologise. I scramble to my feet and he follows suit, but grabs my hand before I can walk away. Steve places a hand on my shoulder shaking his head. "Don't say sorry. I enjoyed it. Thank you." I can feel my inner fangirl let out a squeal, but I resist and settle on a small smile.

The whistle of the train brings us back to our senses making us freeze as the dread sets in. We're not just two teenagers on a fun vacation with the ability to make out with whoever we want and do what we want. We're two teenagers heading to our deaths and that train is our transportation. Steve's eyes harden again and the once gentle boy before me is gone in an instant leaving a man in his place. "We're keeping them waiting…we should go." I nod in agreement and secure his jacket around my shoulders more. When we stand, Steve immediately offers me his hand and I hesitate for a second before taking it. Taking it represents one thing about us; we are a team. Having that knowledge that I can trust him and that he's on my side makes the heavy weight on my chest lift up slightly.

We rush back to the train, hand in hand, waiting for the warmth of the train to enclose us. I sigh in contentment once the train doors close, but frown when the train starts moving. Tomorrow afternoon we'll arrive at the Capitol. Tomorrow we're going to the place that wants us to die for their entertainment.

Steve walks me to my bedroom and once we arrive at the door I realize I must have stopped the circulation in his hand because I was squeezing so tightly in my silent brooding. "Sorry" I whisper embarrassed and pulling to take my hand away, but Steve reaches back out and grabs it. He presses my knuckles to his lips, giving me a wink that makes me blush harder.

"It didn't bother me." I slip off the jacket with a smile and hand it over to Steve. Steve takes it and we stand in comfortable silence. I can't understand how it's not awkward, but, then again, everything with Steve can never be awkward. He's Steve.

My mind wanders off to the situation at hand. The games, our competitors. The slight possibility that Steve and I will have to keep each other alive now that we've become a team. I know I shouldn't be moping over my district partner's life because only one of us can win. But I don't want to have the last two people in the arena be Steve and I because I know I can never kill him. I visibly shiver at the thought killing Steve, I wouldn't be able to. Besides, even if I did kill him I'd never leave the arena. I'd stay there forever trying to figure out a way to escape. No one leaves their games. It follows them wherever they go.

Again I look towards my closed bedroom door. Right now I'm with Steve, his hand held tightly in mine. If I let go and close the door between us, creating a barrier, I'm subjected myself to a night promising terrible night terrors. Some of the games, of my father's death, of Aiden's and now Steve's.

"You okay?" Steve asks sensing my distress with a concern look on his face. I nod my head reassuringly, crossing my arms over my chest, knowing that if I speak my voice will betray me. Although I do my best to look convincing, I'm dreading the time when Steve will have to walk back to his room and I'm left to face the night alone. I was no stranger to nightmares before the games, but I'm scared that's all I'll be enduring once my head hits that pillow. Steve, watching me, gets the message even though I try my best to keep my face blank from emotion. "Hey, do you want to go get something warm to drink?" He gives me a warm genuine smile reaching his hand out to me. There are many Capitol people on this train that could get it for us. They cook for us, wait for us and guard us; taking care of us is their job. They could probably make it, but I'm not very fond of them and don't plan on using them to my advantage. I actually want nothing to do with them considering they are making us comfortable before throwing me into an arena to die. I'm sure Steve would want as less to do with these people as much as I would and just gives me a shake of his head. With a small grateful smile I nod my head. His hands feel so warm against my chilly ones and I melt into the heat. Steve pulls me closer to him once feeling how cold I really am. We walk to the main car and once we arrive we find the screen of their flat screen T.V. on and playing. Walking in closer we realize it's the channel where they broadcast the reaping and any other events dealing with the Hunger Games. It's a called a recap when they replay the reapings from all the other districts today. Effie made us watch it after dinner. I stiffen when I see it's on district 12.

They are playing the entire thing.

There at the part after they've called my name and Effie has just spoken Aiden's name. My eyes immediately go to the slight movement in the boy's section of the crowd.

Aiden.

I start towards the TV at the sight of my baby brother, looking so small walking up to the big stage. It's an extended view so that you can see everything and, from the far distance, you can see, barely visible, the back of his shirt has come loose from his pants creating a little duck tail. That ducktail causes my eyes to start watering. Seeing him makes me imagine what my home must look like with its shutters drawn tightly. What are they doing now, my mother and Aiden? Were they able to eat supper? The fish stew and the strawberries? Or did it lie untouched on their plates? Did they watch the recap of the reaping on one of its many broadcasts? Surely, there were more tears. Is my mother holding up, being stronger, for Aiden? Or has she already started to slip away, leaving the weight of the world on my brother's fragile shoulders? Aiden will undoubtedly sleep with my mother tonight. Even the thought of that scruffy old ugly looking cat we kept named Buttercup looking over him at night comforts me. If he starts crying, Buttercup will nose his way into his arms, curl up in his side and stay there until he calms down and falls asleep. I'm now glad I didn't cook that ugly beast. Before the recap is completely over, the T.V. suddenly turns off leaving the car black with the moon being it's only source of light.

Looking over at Steve through what little light we have I find him holding the remote. I nod my thanks, raising my arms to nonchalantly remove the tears while pretending to turn around and look at the car we're in. But Steve already knows and he's pulling me for a tight hug. After a few seconds I feel a wet spot on my cheek and curse myself for being weak. His hands come up to rub my back comfortingly and that's when I break down. If I had any time to cry, now would be the time to do it. Although a part of me wishes Steve wasn't here to see me like this and another thanks him for his presence and comfort. I grip him tighter and feel myself being moved until I'm seated on the couch on Steve's lap.

I lift my head to find Steve staring back at me. My bottom lip starts to quiver and shoulders start to shake. "Hey, it's alright to cry. There is nothing wrong with showing weakness. Everyone cries. No one should hold it in, especially in front of people that care about you and want to make things better." I stare up at him, tears still streaming down my face. Steve cares about me? He wants to help me? Well he practically already told me outside the train, but it's nice to hear it again as a confirmation. My eyes flicker to his lips again impulsively and I shrug.

He likes me. I like him. We're both going to die soon. What exactly do we have to lose?

Before I know it I throw my arms around his neck and pull him tightly to me, my lips brushing against his amidst my sobs. He kisses me back, his hands coming to caress my cheek and his thumb swipes across my cheek bones to wipe the tears away. The gesture is so enduring and sweet that it makes me cry harder. I pull away a moment later and just lean forward to sob into his neck as he whispers nonsense in my ear that I know will never cheer me up. I never allow anyone to comfort me, but Steve is different. Steve is different the rest of the world. Maybe, even, Gale can be counted as an exception, but it's different between us. Gale and I were brought together through the desperation of survival, to keep ourselves and our families alive in this corrupt world. Steve and I were forced together in a game we will never come out alive.

Taking myself out of my thoughts, I realize how sleepy I've become from sitting here. I feel my eyelids start to get heavy and force myself to look at up Steve. He smiles at my attempt to stay awake. "Go to sleep. It's late anyway." He whispers brushing my hair from my face. I want to stay up and speak with him, but cant find the strength to do so. Also, I don't want him to leaving me here alone. A yawn breaks through my lips and I cuddle closer to the warmth of Steve's body smile when his arms encircle me, gripping his hand tightly, squeezing once hoping he'll get the message. Thankfully he does. "Go to sleep. I'm not going anywhere" He whispers.

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Steve's P.O.V-

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I stare down at her as I watch her sleep peacefully, admiring how beautiful she looks in her sleep and how gorgeous her smile is.

While growing closer is probably the opposite thing we should be doing, this is the girl that I've had a crush on since we were 5 years old. You can't blame me for seizing the opportunity. While she hasn't said that she reciprocates my feelings, I know Natasha is better with actions with words. She prefers using her actions to speak for her. If the previous kisses said anything about how she felt, it's safe to assume that she has some form of feelings towards me. I may not know the extent or how long she's felt like this, but that's okay. I don't need to know.

When we were sitting there on the sand in the moonlight, she looked so beautiful. I couldn't help it. She was sitting there, in my jacket, smiling at me with the moonlight lighting up her face making her even more beautiful than she already is. Impulsively I leaned in. Luckily I stopped myself halfway, afraid of the rejection and afraid that I'm was being too straightforward. I was waiting for a punch in the face for a second until I felt something far more amazing.

Her lips pressed against mine.

Once our lips made contact it felt as if the whole world stopped spinning and everything around us froze. As if it was just us and nothing else mattered. I know I don't just like Natasha Romanoff. I think I might actually be in love with her. I think I've been in love with her since we were 5 years old. Leaning down I press my lips against her forehead, intertwining my fingers with hers. I pull her up more and rest my head back on the couch and fall asleep the soft sounds of the fast moving train.