Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or The Hunger Games.

Note: Huh, I'm surprised that so many of you like the Damian/Cameron pairing. Well then, I shall stick with that! Only a few more chapters before we reach the arena, no worries. Please keep reviewing!

Chapter 10

We are scheduled to appear on television tomorrow night. They want to interview us and broadcast us to all of the Districts, as they do every year. I do not understand the point of these interviews except perhaps to try to get sponsors if we did poorly in the training round of things. That will be our last night here; in two days, we will be in the arena.

My last few days in this world, and I am spending it in interview training.

I'd much rather be riding.

I'd even take working in the slaughterhouse over doing this.

I roll my eyes and grumble as Lindsay and I assemble in our usual meeting spot. "Good morning," she smiles kindly at me, knowing I did not have a good day yesterday. "How are you this morning, Damian?"

"Considering we're going to be killed soon, I'm just fine," I say bitterly.

"Will you stop saying that?" She says, exasperated. "We're not going to be killed, okay? We're going to be just fine. You and I will make it to the end."

"And then one of us would have to kill the other," I point out. "And I will not kill you."

She blinks up at me with those big, blue eyes of hers. "You won't?"

I shake my head. "I could never kill you, Lindsay."

Something ghosts across her face; is it relief? Is it confusion? I cannot tell. "I…I do not think I could kill you, either," she says softly. "I don't think I could at all."

There is a sudden heat between us as Lindsay edges closer to me. "Please get away."

She appears hurt. "Damian…"

"Do you think I want to spend my last days like this?" I all but yell at her.

"I told you, it's not-"

"No," I cut her off. "Haven't you seen the others? Quinn, Puck, Santana? Do you think we stand a chance against them? All you have are your stupid little fires and all I have is a fondness for working with animals. I don't even have that opportunity in the arena. Why don't you just stay out of my way and I'll stay out of yours and we'll just die alone?"

"I thought you were nicer than this," she says, her voice wavering. "But I guess I was wrong." She stands up and stares at me for a long moment before quickly walking out of the room, heading who-knew-where.

I wanted to feel bad.

I wanted to care.

But I just couldn't bring myself to do so.

John walks into the room just then. "Where's Lindsay?"

I shrug. "I don't know."

He sighs. "Did you say something to her again?" I do not respond. "Damian, you've got to stop doing that. She doesn't need to be upset as she goes into the arena. Neither of you do. And you, sir, have to adjust your confidence, or you'll be dead within the first minute."

"Oh, so we're downgrading my odds of survival from ten minutes to one minute?" I snap.

John clenches his hands. "Damian, please go apologize to Lindsay and then bring her back here. I do not have long to turn the both of you into the most likeable tributes."

I mutter some choice words under my breath, but I head down the hall. Lindsay's bedroom door is locked; I knock on it. "Lindsay?"

"Go away," she says in a strained voice.

"Actually, I have been ordered to bring you back to the room. We're going to learn how to be 'likeable' or something like that," I say. She unlocks the door, but does not open it. I roll my eyes and open it for her.

She has been crying.

I can see the tearstains on her cheeks.

Did I really make her cry?

Or has she, too, realized that these are her final days?

"Are you okay?"

"What do you care?" She says in a strained voice.

"I do care. I am sorry for yelling at you. I am under a lot of stress right now. We all are. You have to forgive me for acting the way that I did." I look down. "I really do mean what I said back there. I could never kill you. I wanted to thank you for saying the same for me." I approach her cautiously. "What if it did come down between the two of us?"

She frowns. "I don't know. Maybe they'll let two tributes from the same District win."

A light goes on. "That's actually a good idea. Why not let that happen?"

Her face falls even further. "Oh, that's just wishful thinking. I suppose if we were in that situation, I would let myself starve to death."

"Suicide," my mouth almost struggles around the word.

"Well…yes," she furrows her brow. "Suicide. Has it ever happened before?"

I shake my head. "Not to my knowledge. Some tributes beg for death, but I do not think that any have actually taken their own lives themselves. No one has stabbed themselves, or starved themselves, or cut themselves until they bled to death." I pause, lost in thought for several moments. "It's an idea, though…a brilliant idea…"

"Damian, no," her eyes widen. "You are not going to kill yourself."

"If it came down to the two of us," I say, "I would rather kill myself than kill you."

Her eyes fill with tears. "No," she whispers. "No…I won't let you!"

"Well, you just said you'd do the same thing," I remind her. "Which, by the way, I would not allow you to do."

"You wouldn't?"

"I would not."

"I love you," she says quietly.

I freeze.

No.

No, I cannot do this.

Not with Lindsay.

Not here, not now.

She looks at me, waiting for me to say something.

But I cannot tell her that I love her too, because I do not.

I slowly back out of the room, her eyes never once leaving mine.

I find the door and run away as fast as my legs can take me.

Lindsay calls my name.

But I do not listen.

I lock myself in my bedroom and collapse on the floor, crying myself to sleep.

To be continued…