(A/N: I'm going to law school in a week! Going to try to write some more before then. Sorry for delays.)

(Katja's POV)

I sat numbly as my stylist entered, chattering meaningless words I barely heard at all. All I could hear was the hard resolve in Tegan's voice, and underneath it, undetectable to anyone unless they had my talents, the tiniest quaver of pain and trauma.

Alamo, my district partner, and I, are cows again. This stylist has been here for ten years, and under him, we've never been anything else.

But this year, not cows in the ridiculous, full-body suits that have been the fashion of the past few years. It's hard to draw the crowd's eyes to cow costumes, he explained, but we need to show your district's industry. And you're young and fit.

I knew what my costume would be before he told me. But I remembered what Dalton said. I didn't object.

I choked on the fumes that evening as he carefully spray-painted black-and-white spots, designs, and brands over my body. I was wearing a white bikini, so I was technically covered enough to be shown on live TV, and an additional accessory I almost objected to on the spot. A huge, golden-horned helmet. It weighed at least ten pounds, and just keeping my neck upright under its weight was an effort.

But I had always been such a private person. My face flamed at the thought of being shown like this, wearing so little in front of all of Panem.

Black-and-white spotted nails. Black eyeliner, white eyeshadow, glittery powder on my cheeks, my eyelashes curled, darkened, lengthened. When I caught the first glimpse of myself in the full-length mirrors of the studio, I had to stifle a laugh. Then smiled for real. I looked really stupid, but maybe Tegan would appreciate the view.

Stop it, I snapped at myself a second later. Don't think like that. You have no future with her. She wants to die in the arena. You can't save her- only save Jack and Abby.

Something flashed- at least, that's the best way I could think of to describe these things when they happened- in my brain. I could never explain them, and usually understood what they meant only after the fact. They were the future. Well, yes, and no. Ever since I was a really little kid, I would get these rare flashes. An image of myself somewhere, or doing something, would pop unbidden into my head. These images were so split-second, and usually didn't show any people or familiar objects, that I wouldn't know what they meant until months or even years later. Then, I would find myself looking at the object I had seen in the flash, or doing the thing I had seen myself doing. I had only just realized the last time it had happened, that these were a kind of future sight.

Tegan's spiky but soft hair was mussed against against a thick white pillow. Most of her body was tucked carefully under light blue sheets, except for one arm carelessly thrown out of their confining warmth. It was scarred, but I hardly noticed. Leaning over, I kissed her forehead.

I pinched myself to stop thinking about the flash. That was no future sight like the others had been. I just liked her so much that it was messing with my unconscious.

Only one of us could live. With difficulty, I forced her out of my mind as my stylist explained how we would behave during the chariot rides. "You've been working a determined angle, and Dalton told me your…special skill at manipulating people. So I want you to look strong, determined, as you always have been so far. And you're pretty. What with your costume, you could be provocative."

I snorted.

"Or not," he backpedaled. "Dalton said to leave how you act on the chariot ride up to you, since you're good with people."

(Tegan's POV)

My costume was finally ready, after hours of consultation and examination. I felt like I was going to scream if those Capitol people looked at my scars for another second. Taylor had originally wanted me in a black dress covered with lights that blinked and flashed colorful patterns according to the wearer's mood and heart rate. But it was sleeveless, so that option was out. And anyway, I wouldn't.

"I am not wearing a dress!" I had spat at her earlier as we "discussed our options." I knew Beetee had told us not to fight with our stylists, but this was the one thing I was standing my ground on.

"But at your reaping, Theo thought you were a boy!" she had laughed. "Surely you don't want that mix-up again?"

"I. Don't. Care. I'm not girly! This is my identity you're messing with by trying to tell me how to dress!"

We'd argued for several more minutes. Finally, she had acquiesced. "The Capitol's gay community would like me better in a suit anyway," I told her, trying to smooth things over a little so she wouldn't completely ugly me up.

She was prepping and dressing my marred body now, completely silent, scowling. Maybe she was afraid if she talked, she'd give voice to her revulsion. There was something like fear in her eyes. Between seeing me punch Fuse on live TV and seeing now the viciousness I was capable of, even if only directed towards myself, she saw me as unstable. Mad. Fierce.

But that was the girl from 2's territory. I had a different angle. Katja could help with that, but mainly, I was counting on what was in my head, not in my muscles, to make sure she won.

I sighed with relief as Taylor had me put my outfit on. That long exposure, scrutiny, all those people seeing, was an experience almost as intensely uncomfortable as being "out" in my district was.

She had gone with the suit after all. I felt a surge of gratitude. It covered everything. All of Panem might know now that I was queer, and my romance with Katja might have to play out under hundreds of cameras, but at least I could keep my darkest secret. It was simple- black, well-tailored, body-hugging, but unusually heavy, feeling like it had weights in it. I didn't see how this represented my district at all. It just looked like rather drab by Capitol standards of formalwear. "Wait!" she chirped, turning off the lights in the room. I stood confused in front of the darkened wall of mirrors until she reached for my wrist. I was about to jerk it away when I realized the cufflinks were buttons, and she'd just activated them.

I gasped aloud. Patterns of ever-changing twinkling and glowing lights in several shades of blue covered the suit from head to toe. "Thank you," I said, for once sincere. "This is incredible."

"Isn't it amazing! It's my own design, I'm so proud! You'll match Fuse, but depending on the circumstances, you may end up being different colors from each other. See, the lights are hooked to magnets in the suit which are hooked to biological sensors on the very inside of the lining. So every time your mood changes, the colors will change! It's a technological marvel, really shows off what Three does!"

I scowled. I did not want to match Fuse. I did not want to ride in the same chariot with him. Even be in the same building. But this costume would catch people's attention. Maybe, just maybe, give me an edge.

My suit blazed, suddenly bloodred. "That's anger," Taylor said quietly. "It has several emotions and colors. Try them."

I thought of Katja. Her piercing eyes, her long, soft hair, the feel of that instant of her hand in mine. I was only trying for "happy," to see what color that would be.

But my suit turned a deep pink. I blushed several shades darker than it. "What's this? I was trying to see what happy looked like."

"That's not happy, dear," Taylor said, more kindly than she'd spoken to me ever before. "That's in love. Did you leave some girl back home?"

"You'll just have to see what happens," I said mysteriously.

Before I could try any more emotions, it was time to go. As soon as they made me stand next to Fuse in the chariot, my suit flashed bloodred and stayed there. His was a blotchy purple. Excitement and anger. "Going to hit me again, sweetheart?" he leered.

I couldn't now. Everything was ready. "You just wait for the arena," I growled. "If I do nothing else, I'm killing you. And because it's you, I'll play with my food before I eat it."

He laughed in my face. We stood apart, pretending the other didn't exist, as the chariot rolled out. I could see right away that we were getting a lot of attention. I saw another rainbow banner, one with my name on it, somewhere in the crowd. At first only that small group was shouting my name, but then many other Capitol people find mine and Fuse's names in the programs. Now to start my angle.

"Thank you!" I shouted at the banner-holding knot of people. "I'm here, I'm queer, and I can do this!" But it was of Katja I thought to force myself to keep waving and smiling.

Finally, we were at the City Circle. Only now could I see all of the chariots and other tributes. My eyes were immediately drawn to Ten and Katja. She was wearing almost nothing, and blushing fiercely under my gaze! I was a bit shocked, but found myself enjoying the view. Toned, painted flesh, strong and supple- but I couldn't help but think she'd be prettier without all that Capitol makeup.

Before I could stop myself, I'd shouted her name. "Tegan, your suit!" she called back.

It had just changed back to that pink, which found itself competing with the red of my anger, making a deep, beautiful hue like the desert sunset. "Thank you! You're not so bad yourself! You make a good cow!"

Big laughs from the Capitol crowd. I'd just helped her. Her costume hadn't stood out, but this exchange would. She knew just what to do. Smiling, she batted her eyelashes and mooed at me, then said, "I'm sure my little niece and nephew back in Ten are laughing at me now! I told them I'd be back, so they aren't worried."

We would have continued acting, but then Snow took the stage. A long, dull speech. Then we're back to the Training Center. I jumped off before the chariot fully stopped, eager to get away from Fuse as fast as possible. Without really considering it, I ripped the sleeve of the suit to yank out a few of the magnets. You never knew what might be useful.

I hung back from the other tributes and their entourages going up; Katja saw me and did the same. We both pretended to be so enthralled with our costumes that we couldn't stop checking them out in our ghostly reflections in the mirrors. Finally, there were only a few people left.

(Katja's POV)

What did Tegan want? I wanted the time alone as much as she did, but what did she have to say? The elevator came back down, empty, and I slipped in, motioning for her to follow. One of the mentors from another district tried to get in, too, but I tripped him. By the time he got to his feet, the doors were an inch from closed.

"Too bad," I smirked. "So."

"So." Tegan repeated. "You're six inches taller or so. Bend down. I need to tell you something."

I did as she asked, lowering my head and shoulders. I had never been this close to her eyes before, and just now noticed they were flecked with gold. "I can't talk loudly here," she whispered. "Put your face closer."

(Tegan's POV)

It was working, it was working, it was working! My suit flashed back and forth between a dozen different colors as my heart flung itself against my ribs. Katja's blue eyes were an inch from mine, her long, fine auburn hair tickling my shoulder. But, more importantly, her lips were close, too. I stared into those blue eyes, and saw her realization.

(Katja's POV)

I had always been so good at reading people! How could I have missed something this obvious? It clicked into place now. And we only had a minute together. I put a hand gently into the gel-spiked hair at the base of her skull, and she took my shoulder to steady herself. We both pulled closer.

It was impossible to tell who had kissed who. All I knew what that my lips met hers for a brief, blissful few seconds. The feel of her hair, the smell of her even under all those Capitol scents, her impossibly long eyelashes, her lips chapped from the desert heat, were overwhelming.

How sad, I thought, that she wants to die. But at least I've given her this- well, not given her. I wanted it just as badly.

(Tegan's POV)

It had worked! I stifled a gleeful grin as I pulled myself closer, and she guided my head to hers. Her hands, so strong and calloused, felt unbearably gentle in my hair. At least I would get this before death in the arena. Maybe if the odds were in our favor, we might survive a few days in it. But the opportunities for kissing there would be close to nonexistent. My suit felt warm, as though it would overheat from having to turn so many different colors all at once.

It was only a few seconds. Her lips were so soft, unlike my dry, chewed ones. Underneath all the perfumes, she had a clean, crisp, soft scent that I couldn't get enough of. Her hair was like glowing silk in my fingers.

At least I had this. But don't love me too much, Katja. You'll have to be able to kill me in the end, if it comes to that.