A/N: God, this chapter was hard to write. So heartbreaking.

A huge thank your to the anonymous viewer yo. Your reviews were wonderful and insightful and I can't wait to see what you have to say about this chapter.

Also, thank you to Sarah303 who has also been rather faithful in her reviews, and as always, thank you AnneSilverfire. I'm so happy to have such dedication from my readers, even if it really is just you three.

Chapter 10: When the Banner Falls

"You wanted me as a partner in a Game of life and death because you liked my hair? And I'm the insane one?"

With a cry of rage, Lyria drew her arm back and launched the knife into the air.

This time, there was no sickening slow motion. Lyria didn't have to watch as the knife hurtled towards her, every second seeming to take years. No, she released the knife and in the blink of the eye, it was embedded in the other girl's chest, the blade completely sheathed in her flesh. The hilt jutted out, protruding from just above her breasts, slightly on the left, directly over her heart. Lyria hadn't aimed for the heart - she hadn't aimed at all.

Tears began to blur her vision as what just happened truly sunk in. Ryanne would be dead in a matter of moments if she wasn't already. One of the few people in this world who she knew cared for her and she was gone now - struck down by a girl no older than she was. She wasn't the one with the knife in her hands. Why did that damn girl shoot Ryanne and not Lyria? For the first time since her parents left, Lyria was filled with true pain. Pain and anger that consumed her until she saw red.

Lyria dashed forward. Why was the girl still standing? Why hadn't she fallen to the ground? Why wasn't she dead yet? Why wasn't she crying out for help or screaming in agony? Lyria didn't understand! Lyria would make her fall - for Ryanne!

The world around Lyria had faded to vague shapes that meant little to her, the tears making everything foggy except for the girl - the murderer. With another cry, this one sounding far from human, Lyria launched herself into the air and tackled the girl. They both fell to the ground and the girl began fighting. Lyria grabbed the knife in her chest and twisted roughly, taking satisfaction in the way her face contorted in pain. Ryanne might not be coming back, but neither was she.

The girl continued to fight, despite the pain and the fact that she was already dying, slowly. Her heart must be in shambles right now. The fact that she could move at all was astounding, but Lyria wasn't in the mood for miracles. She grabbed the knife again and pulled, hoping she would bleed faster.

Elsie was in extreme amounts of pain and she could feel the blood draining from her chest. She was wrestling against the 11 year old, trying to get her off, but she had more strength right now. Elsie saw the rage in her eyes and how something else that had been sane a moment before in those sea-jewel depths had broken. She'd broken it and now she would pay the price. But Elsie couldn't give in.

The blond's hand came up to grab at Lyria's throat, constricting around the pale freckled throat with as much vigor as she could muster, but Lyria hardly noticed the lack of oxygen. Lyria jammed the knife into her side and the girl gasped in agony as she pulled it out again.

It was then that Elsie realized that Lyria was saying something, her mouth moving against a broken smile. "Why her, huh? She couldn't hurt you. Didn't even have a knife out... had a family... care... wrong person." Elsie could hear less and less of what she was saying, though if it was because she was slowly dying or because Lyria was losing the capacity to speak, she didn't know. She just knew she'd made a horrible mistake.

Lyria's eyes had blazed with anger, but suddenly, something snapped back into place. She halted her attack on Elsie's body. All color flooded away from the younger girl's face and Elsie was able to make out one final thing - a horrified utterance; "I'm sorry." Tears streamed down her face, blood stained from the tussle and Elsie saw the remorse in her eyes. Realizing what she was sorry for, Elsie froze. A block of ice formed in her chest and her hand slipped away from the other girl's neck. She was sorry for killing her. And in this, Elsie's final moments, she regretted taking the life of the other girl. It had been necessary, but she regretted it

Elsie whispered the only thing she could think of; "It's alright."

Lyria nearly couldn't follow through, hearing the forgiveness in the girl's voice. Remorse coursed through her veins like blood. She'd become a senseless killer, set on vengeance and she'd almost lost a piece of herself to the madness. Compassion filled her. This girl was already dead and suffering because of her. The least she could do was... Lyria ended it. The life slipped from the girl's eyes and Lyria gently closed them.

The young girl stood, covered in blood that wasn't her own, sadness coursing through her, mixed with remorse. A canon shot sounded. Lyria hadn't wanted to kill anyone before and now that she had, she felt like she'd lost something integral to herself; something she could never get back. And she regretted it.

"Lyria," a voice asked weakly. It was so faint, it could barely be heard over the wind.

But Lyria heard it and her heart swelled. She nearly tripped over herself, trying to get over to where Ryanne was laid out on the ground, calling her name again. She scrambled when she stumbled, crawling on hands and knees towards the little incline Ryanne had been standing on.

Lyria hated the sight before her when she found Ryanne. She was sprawled on the ground with the arrow feathers sticking out of her chest. Lyria could just imagine someone in the Capitol seeing this and making it into the next trend. The thought made Lyria sick. The smaller girl crawled closer, no longer having the strength to stand, so that Ryanne could see her. Lyria felt like crying when Ryanne smiled at her and reached for her hand, which Lyria grasped with a note of desperation. "Stay with me?" Ryanne asked quietly.

Lyria nodded, too close to sobbing to say anything coherent and moved so that she was behind Ryanne. She sat down on the ground and managed to lift Ryanne so that her head and upper shoulders rested on Lyria's lap. Ryanne continued to hold Lyria's hand, her thumb absently swiping over the back of her knuckles, silently comforting and quieting the younger girl. Lyria found that rather backwards; she wasn't the one dying.

Ryanne reached up with the hand that wasn't joined with Lyria's and tugged on one stray, matted red curl. Blood and dirt stained most of her hair and skin, but this one had managed to retain the original shade of Lyria reddish-gold. "You know, you have the most beautiful curls, Little Red," Ryanne said, her voice thoughtful as she tugged on the curl and it sprung back into place. "I've always had straight hair but I've always been a little envious of people with curls. There's something elegant about them." Ryanne angled her head back to look Lyria in the eye. "You know, your curls are part of what drew me to you."

Lyria nearly snorted at that. "You wanted me as a partner in a Game of life and death because you liked my hair? And I'm the insane one?"

Ryanne chuckled which quickly turned into coughing. Lyria, who'd relaxed a little when Ryanne started talking tensed up, her face clouding over in worry. But it was over soon enough and Ryanne resumed; "No. Well, not exactly. It was just... you reminded me of someone. She had curls too, though they weren't red. And every time you spoke, you reminded me of her more and more until I could hardly discern the two of you anymore."

"Who was it?" Lyria asked earnestly, not liking the way her voice was wavering. Lyria wasn't ready for her to leave yet. Not yet... "Who do I remind you of?" she repeated.

"My sister, Briza," Ryanne replied with a note of sadness in her voice. "She was the sweetest little girl ever. Everyone loved her and she loved everyone. She had the sweetest smile and gorgeous brown curls. Not particularly strong or athletically gifted, but so, so smart. She could talk circles around our teachers back in District 7." Lyria smiled, knowing that she had done that a time or two herself. "From the moment I laid eyes on you, I saw her. Briza with red hair and freckles. I felt like I had her with me again and it would all be okay if only I could..."

Ryanne trailed off and her thumb stilled in it's ministrations on her hand. Her eyes had a far off look. Lyria, desperately trying to pull her back before she could slip too far out of reach, gently shook her. "Ry, everything would be okay if you could what? What do you have to do to make everything okay?"

"Protect her," Ryanne whispered, her voice breaking and tears beginning to stream down her face. Lyria had never seen Ryanne anything less than Olympian in her strength. Even when she'd been crying and calling her a stupid brat for nearly dying, she'd had an inner strength that kept her in a single piece. Now, seeing her prone and vulnerable, Lyria was more frightened than ever. "When she was about your age, a guy became a little too interested in her; started sending unwanted gifts and giving her attention. She was too young and it scared her." A shudder wracked Ryanne's body and Lyria was painfully aware of how the thick, dark red spot expanded across her shirt. "O-one day, she went to visit my dad at work in the lumber yard and h-he was there. He tried to follow her home and..."

Lyria nudged Ryanne again, shaking her a little. "And?" She wanted to know - she had to know.

"She ran," Ryanne managed, though her voice had disintegrated into shaky, whispering cries. "She ran from him and towards the edges of the District. The Peacekeepers saw her and they didn't realize what was going on; they thought she was trying to escape." Another shudder ran through Ryanne and her grip tightened on Lyria's hand. "They shot her. I got there before they could take her anywhere. I sat with her, talking to her while she died." A weak laugh found it's way through the obvious pain that had seized her. "I guess there's a certain symmetry. Through you, she can do the same for me. Thank you, Lyria."

Lyria nearly laughed at that. It was so ridiculous! "Thank you?" she asked, a waver in her voice that sounded a little manic. "What the hell are you thanking me for? I'm the reason you're dying." It should be me. "It was my stupid plan. If we had waited, outlasted like them like we first agreed-"

"One of us still had to die in the end," Ryanne interjected. Her voice was calm and firm again and more gentle than Lyria had any any right to expect.

It should be me.

Ryanne sighed and Lyria tried to ignore the faint gurgling sound that came with it. "Y'know, Little Red, I think I actually came to think of you as a second sister."

Lyria leaned down and kissed her on the forehead as her eyes slowly slipped closed and her breathing began to slow. Lyria knew she couldn't keep her here anymore. It was time for her to go. "Thank you, Ryanne," she whispered. Tears slipped down her cheeks as she bowed her head over the lifeless body that still rested it's head on her lap. Lyria could have sat there forever, clutching the body of her first friend and waiting to waste away or for another tribute to find her and put her out of her misery. She could have - it even appealed to her, on some level - but she wouldn't dishonor Ryanne's memory like that.

That's why she slowly lifted the girl and edged out from under her. Lyria tried not to notice how the head lolled back, as if it were barely attached. She gently set the corpse back on the ground and set the hand that had held hers right over her heart.

An odd desire took possession of Lyria and she reached for the arrow in Ryanne's chest, breaking it off where it jutted out from between two ribs. Lyria could still see the rest of the rod lodged in her chest and the splinters of the broken wood, but aside from that and the big pool of red that had spread from the wound, she almost looked as if she were asleep.

A canon firing in the distance proved that to be anything but true.

Lyria took a look at herself, covered from head to toe in blood, none of it hers. She felt dirty and horrible, looking at the liquid red clinging to her skin, already drying in some places. Now that they adrenaline was starting to wear off, she could feel where Elsie had clamped her hand around her neck. If she hadn't already been bleeding out by that point, she might have succeeded in killing Lyria. As it was, her neck hurt and she knew there would be little finger-shaped bruises later. Perhaps it would be possible to use that to her advantage, but for now, she had to go back to camp and grab some supplies.

The small girl took one final look at Ryanne's body and smiled to her. "You're not going to like this," she said with a bit of her childish air returning to her. "I'm going to get an earful from you whenever I see you again. But I hope it makes you proud."

Lyria disappeared from the site without looking back again.

~Sacrificed With Love~

Tristan jerked awake at the sound of canon fire, looking around with bewilderment. Nothing around him and he realized with relief that the canon wasn't for him. But then he remembered where he was and who was in here with him and cursed himself for falling asleep. He scrambled to get up and grabbed the staff he'd actually become quite adept with in the last couple of days. He was far more handy with the staff than the blade Lyria had left for him, actually.

Speaking of Lyria...

Tristan dashed towards the little camp the girls had claimed ever since Lyria's little blunder with the acid rain. He steps were long and lithe, but still quiet enough that he wouldn't draw attention from the girls or anyone else hanging around unless they saw him directly.

He came upon the campsite, abandoned. A couple things were missing, though most remained. Lyria's jacket was gone, as were her knives and one of the canteens. Everything else was right where it had been the night before as he watched over them. He tried to think of rational reasons they weren't there. They'd run low on food and gone hunting. They were looking for a better water source. Lyria had run off again and Ryanne was out looking for her. They saw someone coming and ran. They were dead...

Tristan shook his head and berated himself for even thinking that way. No, they were both fine. They had to be. He crept towards the camp carefully in case they were hidden nearby and thought he was a threat, but no, nothing girl-shaped came flying out at him.

Another canon fire froze the blood in his veins.

Two canon shots, two girls. No, no, no. It couldn't be. They couldn't be gone. There were five other people. The odds were against it being them - 2 out of 7. But... the odds. Something twisted inside his chest and Tristan felt like he was going to be sick. The odds were never in the favor of those in the Hunger Games, were they? What did that mean for Ryanne and Lyria? He hated himself for falling asleep and for not watching out for them like he promised he would.

Tristan couldn't just stand there anymore. He had to get out there; look for them and find them if he could. If they were out there to be found. He picked up one of the packs and looked inside of it. The extra blanket, a canteen - he checked it and found it was full - and a baggy of little crackers. If they came back, they would be pissed with him for taking their supplies, but he'd take living pissed off girls over dead or dying girls any day of the week.

He looked for any sort of clues that would indicate where they'd gone, but found nothing. So he set off in the only direction that made sense for Lyria - if not so much Ryanne - which happened to be the forest. "The things I do for you," he mumbled to himself as he set off in that direction.

Tristan wandered through the hills, keeping a keen eye out for any enemy that he might face. It was more precaution than actual paranoia that he might run into someone or he might have been followed. So when he actually heard a voice snap the silence, he was startled into alertness and brought the spear/staff thing in front of him to defend or attack. But no one appeared and he didn't hear anything else for a moment, but then that voice again. "Damn it!" the voice swore. It was decidedly male and pissed off. "I can't kill her if she's dead."

Tristan felt something icy slide down his spine. She. If his memory served, there were only three girls left in the Games. That meant that the likelihood of whoever the guy was talking about was one his girls. He crept closer and realized that whoever the voice belonged to was not alone.

"I don't understand you," the second voice droned, sounding almost bored; Tristan recognized the monotone as belonging to the male tribute of District 12, Marris. It was hard to forget after his interview, where he'd basically delivered a death threat to all the other tributes without so much as a waver to his steady, emotionless voice. "She never posed a true threat other than the fact that she's likable. Likable doesn't save your life out here."

Lyria.

It had to be here. Ryanne wasn't widely hated or anything, but to describe her as likable was a bit of a stretch. And the girl from 8 hardly opened her mouth and didn't stop stuttering during her entire interview. Tristan felt bile rise in his throat. Lyria was dead. What did that mean for Ryanne? And why did he feel as if the worst had already happened? He shouldn't care about her fate - at least, not over Ryanne's. But wasn't this better? She got out before something truly horrendous happened. And she could be free, without Capitol restraint and cruelty. But he still wished she was here, fighting with him. Even that emotionless glare of hers would be a welcome sight.

The first voice, sounding notably more vicious than before barked, "She took every chance I had. The sympathy vote, the charming personality and even the worthy fighter with that damnable 10 in training." There was a bitter laugh before he added, "Even my mentor preferred her."

It was that kid from her district. That smarmy boy who had practically burned her with his eyes at the interviews. Tristan had noticed his distaste for the youngest tribute then but hadn't noticed how deeply it ran at the time. And the dynamic of his distaste was vastly more complicated than Tristan could ever have guessed.

"Well, she's no threat now. In fact, unless that hovercraft picks her up soon, she's nothing more than maggot food," Marris deadpanned.

That piqued Tristan's interest. The hovercraft hadn't picked her up yet? Did that mean that they were too close to the body? And what did that mean of her killer? Where had they gone? He hadn't been able to see anything, but now having a vague idea of where his two competitors were, he circled around one of the hills to avoid their gazes but perhaps manage to get a good look at them, and if his luck served him, a final look at Lyria. He managed to find an angle where the two tributes were easily seen, but should they look his way, he'd be ready to drop down in order to remain hidden.

Marris looked as if he were already in the early clutches of sleep, deep rings around his eyes and lids resting half shut over his grey eyes. His longish black curls hung around his face in a lank mess, mussed and tangled beyond management. Tristan couldn't recall the name of the young man who stood across from him, but he was easily recognizable and was in fact, the male tribute for District 2. A scowl twisted his features into something ugly and Tristan thought he could see waves of hate radiating from his form as he stared at something in the distance. Lyria's body wasn't anywhere close to them but it was easy enough to find, following the angry man's gaze.

There she was. Something stuck out of her chest, one of her hands was thrown back awkwardly and her leg looked disjointed, bent to the side in a way that was unnatural and painful to look at. Even from here, he could tell she was covered in blood. Those once beautiful curls were sprawled around her, covering her face, twisting around her neck and laid across the ground where she'd fallen, like he own personal veil of death.

Tristan looked away, the pain tightening in his chest just a little more at the sight.

He focused back on the two males, knowing they were the true problem right now. He could mourn her and look for Ryanne later - if didn't get caught and killed by these two first.

He witnessed the sick, twisted smile that crossed the tribute from District 2's face. It was vile, seeing someone take that much pleasure from the death of someone else. "Yeah, guess you're right," he said, his tone practically dripping in satisfaction. He turned to his partner. "Guess that means I don't need you anymore, now that little miss sunshine and company are out of commission."

Marris shrugged, as if it were no big dead. "No skin off my back," he drawled easily and promptly turned and walked away. Tristan was half expecting the kid from 2 to stab him while his back was turned, but he just followed at his own easy pace. They headed toward opposite ends of the opening forest, 2 away from Lyria's body and Marris towards. Marris stopped and looked her over, shook his head and continued on. This display left Tristan confused as he stood, finally abandoning his hiding spot.

None of it made much sense. What were they doing over in the hills? How had Lyria been caught out there of all places? Tristan supposed there could be reasonable explanations for any of the above, but there was one thing that still bothered him - where was the hovercraft and why hadn't it picked her up?

Resolve burrowed deeply into Tristan's chest and he set forward, towards the corpse rather than away like the reasonable side of him wanted. He didn't want to see that, did he? To see her lifeless eyes staring at everything and taking nothing in? To see her own blood splashed across her skin and clothes like paint on a canvas? But he had to because he had to know.

It took forever and yet no time at all to reach her. Up close, she looked even worse. He could see the hardened blood, an unsightly crust over her freckled flesh and he could see that the thing sticking out of her chest was an arrow.

And yet...

"What are you doing?"

"Playing dead."

A/N: Had you guys scared for a second there, huh?

Nah, she's not dead yet. Otherwise the story would be finished and we all know I'm not through with this. There are just way too many untapped opportunities. This is going to be fun!

So review! Tell me what you think! You love it? You hate it? How'd you feel about Ryanne's death scene? About how ballistic Lyria went? What are your theories on how this is going to end? How do you want me to end it. I take all into consideration when I write, so if you want it to end a certain way, tell me and you may get your wish. Ta ta, darlings. See you next chapter.

Happy Hunger Games~

Madly Yours,
Jassabella