I'M BACK!

Did you miss me? Ah, well, whether you missed me or not, the next chapter is up!

Hope you enjoy it!

Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Suzanne Collins.

We're all confused.

We want to find the '12' portion of the clock-arena, but we can't decide where it is. After the wave, everything – the whole arena – seems to have shifted. We can no longer tell which section has the blood-rain, or the lightening, or anything at all until the wave hits again.

We finally decide on a random path and hope for the best – which is not looking likely, since it is the Hunger Games – but I keep my opinion to myself.

I volunteer to get water with Katniss with the spile Haymitch sent them. Johanna forces Peeta to draw another map of the arena on a leaf, even though he insists on accompanying Katniss into the jungle. Finnick mumbles something about 'healing' and 'taking care of Beetee'.

Katniss looks suspicious at our overprotective attitude, but she follows me anyways. I lead her to a tree, around 15 feet away from them. I can tell Katniss is suspicious – she's casting dubious glances at me, and staring off into the distance, as if thinking hard.

I don't know if Katniss is suspecting that we're protecting Peeta a little too much, or if she's suspecting that Finnick, Johanna, and I will overtake our alliance and kill her off.

I won't lie - it would be extremely easy for Finnick, Johanna and I to kill everyone else in this alliance. Though, yes, Katniss does prove a challenge with her skill in archery, with the three of us, we could manage. And of course, I don't want to see Peeta after somebody hurts Katniss. But it would be easy to kill the three of them off, to run away and pretend that there isn't only one winner.

I chastise myself. There are no what-ifs. My duty is to protect Katniss and Peeta and Beetee, and I will not allow myself to turn on them after what trust they have put on me. Well, Beetee's and Peeta's trust anyways. Katniss, well, she still looks wary of us.

I start hacking away at a tree, my back turned to Katniss, so easily exposed so that I let her know she has the upper hand. A sign that I am no threat to her or Peeta. I hack away at the tree, as if I were hacking away all of my 'what-ifs' and worries.

I ask her for the spile, when all of a sudden, she freezes and runs away.

"Prim! Prim!" She shouts, dashing away into the jungle, loud, fast, and completely vulnerable for attack.

I run after her, as fast as I can. There's no way I'm letting her get lost in this arena, to fend for herself against whatever's in here.

"Katniss!" I call out, trying to stop her, but to no avail. She keeps on running, screaming. Whatever it is, it's urgent enough for her to charge at full speed and move with the noise of stampeding elephants.

There are vines and trees everywhere. They swing into my face and slow me down, and soon, I can see nothing but Katniss' long braid.

When I finally reach Katniss, she's wiping moss on one of her arrows, the panic in her eyes gone.

"Katniss?" I pant out, stitches on my side from running after Katniss and running into vines instead. "Are you alright?"
"Yeah." She answers, still wiping. "I just thought I heard – "

But I don't hear the rest of her sentence.

It's a scream. A scream, so horribly familiar and yet so horribly foreign to me because I've never heard her scream like that before.

It's loud and piercing, shattering every thought I had, breaking away any sense I had left. Any reason. Any logic. There is none, not when her safety is concerned.

I run. I sprint as fast as I can, screaming, too, a terrible harmony of my scream mixing in with hers.

"Donnie!" I scream. "Donnie!"

A thousand thoughts are running through my head, wild and frenzied. What if the Capitol just decided to take her now? What if they grabbed her out of our home and decided not to wait for her to be Reaped? What did the Capitol do? What were they going to do to her now? Is she in the arena? What is she doing here? Is she alright?

I run, not thinking about my legs screaming, begging for a rest, not thinking about my alliance behind me, Katniss running after me, Finnick waiting for me.

I can only think about what could be in front of me, the screams that are so clearly hers, that are so filled with pain and hurt that I would rather kill myself than to have something make her make that scream again.

I run for how long, I don't know. I don't care if there are other tributes around, other animals here. All I care about is reaching my little sister before the Capitol can raise another finger on her.

Not after all I did.

Not after all I gave up.

For Donnie. For Donnie. For Donnie.

Everything to protect her. I would do anything, would do everything.

Anything to keep her safe.

I finally reach the destination of her screams. It's in a tree – I just know she's up there. They're torturing her up there, and I can't reach her, can't even see her.

I can't climb up. The lowest branch is too tall for me to grasp on to.

I feel helpless. There's nothing I can do to help her without endangering her.

"Donnie!" I scream as loud as I can, wandering around the base of the tree. "Donnie!"

Her screams continue, piercing through me like an arrow to my heart. They go straight through me, ringing in my ears, echoing in my brain. Every scream leaves a scar on me, every second her screams continue is a reminder of what I've failed to do, of what they're doing to her now.

"Donnie!" I scream hysterically. I can feel tears beginning to form, feeling so helpless, so weak for not being to reach her when she is so close, suffering so much.

I try climbing the tree in vain. My nails are all bloodied and raw for grasping on to the wrong parts, but I don't feel the pain.

I don't even notice Katniss shimmering up the tree.

"Donnie!" I wail loudly, berating myself for being such a terrible sister, for being so weak, so useless, so stupid, so hopeless, so…

The screaming stops. A bird drops to my feet, dead. I recognize it as a jabberjay. Muttations from the Capitol that mimicked sounds.

"It's a trick, Anxol, it's alright. It's not really her." Katniss says, jumping off the last few feet of the tree.

But I don't feel any better. In fact, I think I feel worse.

"The jabberjays record the sounds they hear." I say shakily, staring at the mass of blood and feathers in front of me. "How do you think they got those screams?"

I see Katniss beginning to pale. "Anxol, you don't think they…"

I nod, confirming exactly what I think.

Suddenly, another scream starts up. It's a male voice, so full of pain. It's not one I recognize, but Katniss pales, eyes wide with fear and panic. Katniss whips around, and before she can run, I grab her and drag her back in the direction we came from – the beach.

"It's not him, Katniss!" I shout over the screams. "It's not him! It's just some monster!"

But Katniss is still trying to run. I drag her, like she's nothing but a sack of potatoes.

We finally reach the area, the clearing that I saw Katniss in. I see Johanna, Beetee, Finnick, and Peeta all standing just a little beyond the clearing. Katniss and I charge towards them, eager to leave the jabberjays and screams behind. It isn't until it's too late that I see Finnick's hands pressed against an invisible wall.

I crash into it face-first, whereas Katniss sort of crashed into me. We both fall back onto the floor, blood gushing from my nose. I see Finnick and Peeta trying to speak, but no words come out. We can't hear them. Johanna only stares at us while Beetee shakes his head.

More birds perch on a nearby tree, and open their mouths and start screaming.

Donnie's scream erupts from one of them, louder than the rest. They scream, loud and clear, so terrifyingly real even though I know they're birds.

But I still can't help but to think that someone has made Donnie scream like that. That at one time, Donnie was screaming like that, her voice filled with pain.

Katniss empties her quiver trying to shoot the birds, but every time one falls, another swoops in.

"Shut up!" I shriek, my hands in my ears, trying to block out the screams. "Shut up!"

In a fit of anger that Johanna would be proud of, I pull out a sword that I strapped to myself using a vine and start hacking away at a tree violently, as if every stab was a stab delivered personally to the Capitol.

The tree eventually collapses, taking the jabberjays down with it. For a minute it's silent – blissful, peaceful silence – until a new flock of jabberjays land in another tree.

I scream in anguish as Donnie's scream starts up again. Visions, images, run through my head, all equally horrific and terrifying. I cursed my imagination for being able to create these images. I cursed myself for not being able to protect Donnie in time.

I crumple down on the floor, my hands pressed so close to my ears I thought my brain would explode.

I curl up in a ball, close my eyes tightly, and wish that Donnie's screams would stop. Wish that my brain would stop thinking. Wish that I could stop wondering.

I wish that they had hurt me instead. I wish that they could've tortured me in this arena, wish they had some other muttation come after me.

But my wishes never come true. Donnie's voice keeps on ringing in my ears, haunting me, taunting me, mocking me. Reminding me of what she's going through. Of my failure. Breaking me.

I try to cling onto sanity, stop myself from falling into that dark hole of insanity and self-hate. But as the screams erupt all around me, it's getting easier and easier to just lose myself in the screams, let my sanity run free and leave me forever.

I almost wish it did.

.

Finnick's POV

I reach her first.

She's curled up, her hands pressed hard in her ears, body shaking, tears flowing.

I thought it was torturous watching them; watching them scream in agony, watch them give up and just try to block out the screams.

But if I thought it was hard watching them, it was nothing compared to actually hearing the jabberjays.

I pick her up and gently remove her hands from her ears. Her fingers shake, hesitant, as if not believing it was really over.

Her eyes look at me fearfully, tears still clinging on to every eyelash.

I've seen her eyes misty and dreamy. I've seen them cold and filled with hatred. I've seen them joking and playful. I've even seen them with tears in them, sadness reflecting out of those expressive pale grey eyes.

But I've never seen them like this.

They're filled with hopelessness and emptiness, like two unfathomable, void holes.

She has never, ever, given up hope.

I hold on to her tightly, not caring about Haymitch's rule any more. Her breaths come out calmer and she's stopped shaking. She clings onto me like I'm her lifeline, and I can feel her nails digging into my chest.

"They're not real, they're just mutts." I whisper into her ears. "They're not real. It's not them."

She closes her eyes and takes a shaky breath, but the tears do not stop.

"Finn, what if someone did torture her?" She asks in a small voice. "The jabberjays record voices. You know that."

I only hold her tighter and continue whispering words of reassurance in her ears. She relaxes slightly.

Peeta reminds them that the top eight tribute's families are interviewed, and with the top eight being so close, they couldn't hurt them now.

Beetee points out that there is a system in District 3 that is able to manipulate voices.

Slightly comforted, but still weak with terror, we managed to get Katniss and Anxol to stand up. Johanna returns back to the jabberjays to collect the fallen weapons.

We walk back to the camp, though Anxol and Katniss are still a little shaky.

We spend the day like it was a free day, each one of us doing different things, as long as we don't wander too far. A day of relaxation - or as close to it as we can get - to help calm Anxol and Katniss. We can't expect them to fight in this nervous condition.

First, I patch up Anxol's nose as she sits there, as still as a statue, staring off in the distance. Her eyes are distant, empty almost. It disturbs me, and I can't stand to watch as she turns into stone in front of me.

I try teaching Anxol how to weave a bowl and tie a net, even though it turns out pretty disastrous. She even manages a small, feeble laugh at her end result.

In the end, we go for a swim, just lazily floating around. She seems more relaxed, though I know that she still can't get the screams out of her head.

I suggest a swimming race even though we both fully know that I'll win. She agrees anyways, and she splashes in my face when I win again.

"You cheated." She smiles faintly, her voice slightly distant.

"How so?" I challenged.

"You're from 4." She counters back half-heartedly.

"That's not cheating." I respond, raising an eyebrow, a trick I learned from her.

"You have a swimming advantage over all of us." She smiles faintly again. I wish I could take away all of her distant smiles and replace them with her real smiles, the gleam in her eyes, the laughter on her lips.

But I can't.

And like a flash of lightening, Mag's voice returns to my memory, so achingly familiar.

Love is something that is hard to hold on to in this world.

I look back at Anxol, eyes distant and troubled, a small frown on her lips. Is this what Mags means? The Capitol tears away all love in this world. Is this just the start of them pulling us away?

Mag's advice, her voice, her smile, is all too painful to remember. Her twitching body in the smoke, my inability to save her. I was weak. I couldn't save her, let her die.

I remember her teaching me how to swim. Giving me sugar cubes when I felt the world was bitter. She trained me during my own Games and held me when I cried in fear and held me when I sat in shock after I won.

And now she's gone. And it's my fault. I can feel tears pricking the corners of my eyes, and I turn away, to Anxol.

Do you love her?

Mags' voice haunting my head, echoing and reminding me so much of home. Anxol, breaking and troubled in front of me. There was nothing I can for her. There is nothing I can do for her.

I sit behind Anxol, biting my lips so hard I can taste blood. I will myself not to cry, force myself to; you are the mighty Finnick Odair and they are all watching and you cannot be weak when she needs you, she does not need her wall to crumble when she needs it the most.

My fingers are not swift and deft like Mags'. They are clumsy and shaking, not at all skilled and flying from piece to piece like Mags' was. But I try anyways.

Anxol sits still, unmoving. I take strands of her long white-blonde hair and twist, turn, and braid it, the way I saw Mags do it so many times. When I am done, I look for a pin - no, a hook, Mags always used a hook - to fasten her hair, but I find none. Anxol turns slightly and gives me a faint, sad smile, holding out a small, crooked hook. It's not as sharp and fine as the ones Mags' used to make, but neither is my braid, and no one could make hooks and braids like Mags.

I fasten Anxol's hair tightly to the other side of her head and step back to see the handiwork. It's clumsy and uneven, but it resembles the braid Mags used to make for her.

Anxol pats the braid gingerly and turns to me, smiling faintly, her eyes finally here with us.

"Thank you." She whispers. I smile sadly and sit down next to her, slinging my arm over her shoulder. She leans her head on my shoulder, and I can hear her sighing softly.

We sit in silence, holding on to all we have left of Mags in this world.

.

That night, the seven faces light up in the sky.

"That's two-thirds of us." Anxol whispered, horrified that fifteen of us – including yesterday's eight – could be wiped out so easily.

"They're really going through us." Johanna says. "Who's left? Besides us and District 2?"

Peeta quickly points out the Chaff is still alive.

Suddenly, a parachute floats down. It's bread from District 3.

Finnick counts each one and lays it down neatly. There is twenty-four pieces.

We decide to eat some of it tonight and save the rest for tomorrow morning. Peeta and Katniss volunteer to take the first watch, obviously wanting time for themselves. Anxol and I volunteer for the second watch, and Katniss and Peeta agree to wake us up in a few hours.

Everybody falls asleep easily, sleeping soundly. Anxol crawls next to me and curls up next to me until there's no more space in between us.

I feign sleep as I wait for her to fall into an uneasy sleep, tears silently trickling through her closed eyelids.

She blames herself. I know she does. For her whole life, she has been protecting Donnie from the Capitol. From the Games. She killed and she sold herself for Donnie, and yet she thinks that even though she has done all these things, it is futile. That she is too weak, too useless to shield Donnie.

I gently move the white-blonde hair away from her face and sling my arm around her waist, holding her tightly, protectively.

I will protect her. I won't be able to live myself if I know I didn't.

Thanks for reading!

Extra long chapter just to try and make up for the past few days!

I hope you guys all liked it - and yes, I know that some major parts in this chapter is different from the book Catching Fire, but keep in mind that I will be changing some things in future chapters and sub-stories to slip in Anxol and her story as well. And yes, I used some direct lines from the book and changed it up a bit - all of those, I repeat, belongs to Suzanne Collins.

Perspective change, yes, I know. I still don't know if you guys like the perspective changes or not, so, well - if you don't, then I'm sorry, and if you do, then that's great! I just wanted to get Finnick's point of view about the situation and more about how it affected Anxol.

So, what did you think of the chapter?

Any questions? Comments? Feedback? Suggestions? Feel free to leave it as a review!

And thank you so much for all the reviews and favorite and alerts on any of the sub-stories! It was really nice to come back to all these amazing messages. I'm really happy to be back and posting once again!

And now, as per usual, next chapter will be up tomorrow!