Welcome back, I have not forsaken this story for another six months, I promise. I'm actually committed. I have around to part 4 done, and this is only part 2, so this is going to go on, for however long it takes. I enjoy writing tbh, there is something to writing...something that just fills me.

Warning: this might be a bit weird, a bit bad. Anyways, enjoy:

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X-X-Part 2-Chapter 10-X-X

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She met Jacob in the training room. He was already working on it by sparring with one of the instructors. The careers, watching him like vultures would their meal. She hated them for it. She didn't want them to target him as one of the weak ones. No, she needed to be targeted off as one of the weak ones. She wanted to, and perhaps, it would bring some excitement to these games.

So to take their eyes off of him, she picked up a set of knives, being clumsy as she did so, although as her fingers grazed the hilt of one it was like she had never stopped using it. It was like the year that had passed with her not holding one had never really passed. But she was clumsy to pick them up and hold them, going as far as holding it in the wrongest way possible.

She walked into the knife throwing range and made her best to seem like she was tripping on herself, making a loud sound to be sure to attract their attention. Then she set the knives down on the counter, she made sure to make them clatter out of place. Her hands shook and she looked around herself, the careers were watching. Good. Time to embarrass herself.

She picked up one of the knives again and stood at the line, facing the dummies she'd have to hit. They would be an easy hit, of she would try her worst. She would manage to hit them and then some more. But she was not there to prove how good she was, on the contrary, she was there to prove how bad she was.

So she threw and aimed out of the circles of the dummy. The knife hit the outside, but she had thrown it with such little force that it didn't stab into the material. Instead, it clattered to the ground. The blush that appeared on her cheeks was not all fake. She was embarrassed. Call it her hubris, but she was embarrassed. Especially when the male from one started laughing, followed by the male of two.

She'd kill them first. Then the other careers who were looking at her with disgust.

Screw them.

Jacob was forgotten by them, and that was all she needed from them, although…she threw another knife. This one too clattered on the ground. She blushed again, and his her face in shame. Then, without retrieving the knives, she left the room, hurrying away, the careers' eyes trailing after her. They were giving her so much attention she craved for even more.

She walked over to another station, this one was for plants and their uses. In last year's games, she wasn't sure it would have helped, but perhaps in this one, it would. She could only hope so. Soon enough, the boy and girl from Five where there, too. Percy's tributes. She didn't send them away, instead smiled at them fondly and continued with her things. Then, when she felt like they were close to leaving, she talked, wanting to know something.

"You two, I find, are the luckiest," she said in a very girly tone.

They exchanged looks, and the boy, Joseph, said, "What do you mean?"

She rolled her eyes. "Have you seen your mentor? He's so hot. And also, he won the games last year. That must be so much help, I swear. Mine are two old drunks."

Joseph smirked. "Eh," he said. "He hasn't really been of much help, actually. He keeps more to himself, really."

Annabeth cocked her head to the side. Why would he do that? They were from his District, wasn't he supposed to help them in any way he could, unlike what Bryce and Lora had done so far. Those old sots.

"I'm sorry to hear," she said. "Although he's still really hot."

Was there shame in her voice when she said that. No. He was hers, and she could say that about him as many times as she wished. No one would prevent her from boasting about him to others. No one. And there was a lot she could boast about. A lot.

-.-

Percy walked along the mansion, hating his feet from betraying him and bringing him closer and closer and closer to the snake that was the President of this nation. He hated him, and there would be serious trouble when he and Annabeth figured out a way to bring him down. Seriously serious trouble.

One step forward at a time, he made it to the room outside his meeting chambers and waited for the summoning. He wasn't the only one, he realized and quickly enough, one of the Victors from four, Finnick Odair, talked to him.

"If it isn't Percy Jackson," he said with a grin. "Our latest Victor and newest treasure for the Capitol."

"I'm not their treasure," Percy was quick to answer. "But I'm getting the vibe you are."

He chuckled. "Don't lie to yourself, Percy. It's not good for the soul."

"Why are you here?"

"President Snow summoned me," he replied. "Isn't that the same reason you're here?"

Percy actually shook his head. "Actually no, I asked for a meeting with him. I'm lucky I guess, that he deemed me worthy to abide to my request."

"Skilled fighter with a smart tongue," Finnick said. "Is there something you're not good at?"

He steered the conversation away from him. "I don't know. But what I do know, is that you're just as good. After all, you're here, aren't you?"

Finnick cocked his head to the side. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Snow mentioned you, Finnick Odair, Victor of the sixty-fifth Hunger Games, when he told me about the job offer." He knew Finnick knew exactly what he was talking about. "And, who was the other one? Oh, yes, Gloss, right?"

The Victor from Four grinned. "I guess we're the same then?" he said as the door clicked and slid open, a woman stepping out and calling Percy's name.

Percy lingered next to Finnick, not turning yet. "Not even similar."

Then he turned and…— He stopped breathing for a moment. He stopped understanding. He stopped feeling. Because the woman that had called out his name was no woman at all, but a monster, an empousa, Kelly. He took a slow breath, and his thoughts and feelings came back. Rushed back into him. An empousa was here.

His legs locked. He couldn't move. Finnick was looking at him oddly and Kelly…gods she was grinning, exposing her fangs, yet Finnick didn't see them. He was oblivious to the monster in front of them. Then he felt it, the presence, inside the room where Snow was in, where he was due in. The presence that compelled him to go there, a soft lullaby ringing at the back of his mind. The aura that even with a wall in between was so clearly there. He could feel her. His captor.

Gaea was behind those walls, waiting for him.

"Mr. Jackson," Kelly's voice was a shrill to his ears. "President Snow is ready to see you."

He took a step back. He jerked back. His head shook slowly from side to side, in denial. His eyes were wide because—because he was afraid. As bad as the previous year had been, as tormented as his mind had been…he'd thought of it before that perhaps being beaten into oblivion was better, but now, that he seemed so close to going back to being locked away…

He was afraid of it.

He didn't want to go back.

He was…he wasn't sure. He just didn't want to see her. Not now. Not today, not ever.

He didn't care that Finnick was so close to laughing but was keeping it in because he knew the person next to him was so deadly. He didn't care, he just wanted to be out. To have never requested this meeting, to never have had to come here and inadequately meet her.

"Jackson, are you okay?" Finnick asked him, the smile on his voice.

He glared at Kelly, a new form of bravado upholding him. "As ready as I'll ever be."

Then he took his quick paced steps to the door, and stared at Kelly in the eyes, not daring to yet look inside the office, where that enemy aura was pulsing against his own, pushing him into submission. "Last time I saw you, you were dead," he said in Greek. "Her majesty found you worth her time?"

She laughed, then grinned, tracing her finger against his scar on his cheek. "I've always liked you best, Jackson. If you're free, you could always take me up on my offer."

He stepped through the threshold, not daring to step further inside. "I think I'll pass."

Then she shut the door behind him, locked her fingers around his neck and shoved him towards them. Towards President Snow and Gaea. He straightened himself out and held his head high, chin high. His eyes were avoiding hers as much as he could, and instead, they locked on Snow's green ones. Snake.

"I'll thank you for agreeing to meet me today," he started, ignoring Gaea who seemed to be getting affected by it.

Snow cocked his head to the side. "Aren't you going to wonder about our…guest. Surely you're interested."

He controlled his breathing and kept his eyes on Snow. "Unless she's here to kill me, or try to lock me in a cell again, then no. I'm not interested as to why she's here."

Not fully true. He was dying to know what she was doing here. But he wasn't going to give her the satisfaction. Not ever.

Gaea chuckled and the sound…it chilled him to the bone. How many times had she chuckled, literally holding his life in her hands? How many times had she chuckled, after seeing him break down? He clenched his jaw and scowled, his mind starting an internal battle, trying to make him submit to memories he didn't want to remember.

"My," her voice made his blood run cold. "After spending as much time as you did in my dungeons, I'd have thought you'd begin to understand that this sort of attitude gets you nowhere."

He amended. "I do my best to impress."

"As I have witnessed, on countless occasions," she said, sitting down leisurely into the chair behind the desk. The one he had no doubt was really Snow's. The President didn't say anything, instead walked to stand next to her. She delicately gestured to one of the two chairs in front of her, in front of him. "Take a seat. Let's talk like civilized beings for the time being. A small truce for this hour, before you go back to hell."

Take a seat. It compelled him to do so. To sit in front of her and actually be ready to listen to what she wanted to say. To have this moment of truce, between him and her. This moment of peace where he didn't need to fear what she was going to do. He hated the idea, of doing what she was asking him to. Yet, he sat, right where she was indicating him to sit. A smile graced her lips. A scowl his features.

"How do you fare?" she asked casually. "Is Panem to your likings?"

He didn't respond. He didn't want to give her the slightest response, but there was this feeling within him, pushing him to respond to her. To tell her the awfulness of it all. Pushing him to ask her to end it. For him and for Annabeth.

He fought against it.

He wouldn't break.

He knew the feeling, he'd felt it for so long during those torturous months under her watch. Under her pressure. He was familiar with it, with how it bent his mind to do what she wanted. To tell her exactly what she wanted to hear. And he was unfamiliar with how to block it, to not listen to it. Give in to it.

"Would you like to go back?" she asked him after the pause became too long. His heart beat faster. "We're right here, I doubt there would be complications. Or maybe…I could take Annabeth and leave you here. How would that feel? Would you fight back?"

His jaw clenched, muscles bobbing. "What do you want me to say?" Was he giving in by allowing her to feed words in his mouth?

"I want you to beg," she said. He'd already given in, long before this moment, he just didn't want to admit it to himself. "I want you to beg to have her close to you. To have her survive her games." She leaned in, over the table. He was close enough that they now stood mere inches form the other. He didn't move back. Something kept him there. A force too big for him to fight. Strong enough that he didn't move away when a nail caressed his sharp jaw. The more he stayed in the room with her, the more he was starting to feel like he owed her something.

He disgusted himself.

He jerked up, standing up, her touch leaving him. He looked away. "I will not beg," he told her defiantly. "Not to you, or any man."

"What happens when all that's left to you is that? Or her death?" Gaea asked him, the gentleness leaving her.

He didn't look at her. "Then, I'll see when that time comes."

He forgot what he had come here to discuss with President Snow. Her presence betrayed him, betrayed his plan. He couldn't stay here much longer without slowly falling apart. His mind already fighting a battle, he couldn't afford to keep it going for much longer. He had to get out. Screw his request.

"Now, if you'll excuse me," he started. "I'll get back to the training center."

He saw her looking behind him, signaling for the empousa to keep him there. He focused his senses, the particles in the air that belonged to his terrain to feel her movements. He turned, in time to grasp her hand, coming down with the hilt of a sword on his neck. His metallic arm much stronger than her flesh one, he was about to force the sword from her grip when she kicked him with her own cybernetic limb. Right on the shin.

He let go of her wrist and took steps back. "I am not here to fight," he told the Earth Mother.

"Get him down," Gaea said, ignoring him, to Kelly.

The empousa struck again, swinging her sword at his neck. He crouched down to avoid it, his hand grabbing his pen, and the next time Kelly made to strike him, she found it blocked by Riptide. Parrying the blow and going as far as to hit her with the flat edge of his blow across the stomach. Winding her. She still lunged with her talons, making a wide arc in front of her.

He cut off her hand. She yelled, then hissed at him. "I will have your head!"

He kept his sword high, leveled in front of him. Then looked at the Earth Mother. "I won't fight you!" he said loudly. "I've done what you asked me," he said to President Snow. "Just let me be with her. I haven't done anything wrong. Not since I got here…Let me go."

"I would have an oath from you," Gaea said.

"Screw you," he said without thinking twice about it.

The Earth Mother nodded. "Good enough," she said to herself before turning to the President. "Next time you call me here I will not tolerate him this way. I want him on his knees," she hissed at him.

Snow bowed his head. "As you wish it."

Percy watched as the Earth Mother and Kelly both dissolved into sand granules and then vanished. Leaving behind the sand to fall on the floor. He let out a deep and shaky breath, lowering his sword. His breathing erratic. Not for the squabble he'd had, but for her words. His fight might yet not be over.

"Leave," Snow said as he sat down in his chair. Took up a pen and started to read the documents in front of him. When Percy lingered he then added, looking at him, "Do not think this a kindness. Your girl is still going to participate in Games. That might break you still."

Percy approached the President. "If she dies," he said, his voice shaking. "I swear on the whole fucking universe I will destroy everyone within this damned city. And I will kill you, slowly."

Snow only grinned. "I will not repeat myself again," he said. "Leave. Go to your woman's embrace. While you still have the chance."

He lingered again, but Snow didn't say anything no more. So he touched the end of his sword, shrinking it back into a pen. Placing it in his pocket. Then he left without another word.

The moment he was outside the office he stopped for a moment, he felt the anger, at being so weak in her presence. He felt the ache to kill someone just as he stood there. He felt horrible. It felt horrible. He felt weak. Weaker. His bones felt like lead. Yet there was someone else in the waiting room. Another Victor. Someone well known. He had to act like the new him, arrogant and cocky.

He couldn't though. He punched the closest wall.

"Are you good," the other asked him.

Percy only glared. "Leave."

-.-

He didn't see her until after he'd had his dinner and said goodnight to Genevieve, and the two tributes.

They kept his distance, and when he told them that someone would be meeting him after dinner, and to please not be present, it hadn't taken long to convince him. They all dispersed to their rooms, or perhaps Joseph and Eileen would spend some time together, before leaving to their own rooms. It's what he'd done every night with…her.

Someone, he didn't have the heart to think about.

Not now that Annabeth was on her way.

He felt her outside of their quarters before one of the peacekeepers had a chance to tell him. He went to open the place up to her on his own. When he saw her, it took control not to simply flung himself onto her, instead, grab her hand and lead her through the floor, until they reached his room.

The moment the food was closed behind them, they moved in synchrony, like they were expecting the other's movement. He picked her up under her legs at the same time she jumped on him, her legs wrapping around his middle. Their lips met, and he crashed them onto the wall.

This was happening like it was happening.

Perhaps it was lust at this point more than it was love, but he needed it.

She needed it too, it was clear.

He was happy to know that.

His mouth left hers, instead of trailing down her neck, on her chest, as hers ventured the same path.

When his arms started straining due to the harsh force, he walked them to his bed, and placed her on top of it, getting on top of her in the same movement. His lips didn't move from her neck, she, on the other hand, stretched it out, and entangled her fingers into his scalp. They grabbed his black locks possessively. He loved it. His hand reached for one of her legs and ran down the length of it.

He wanted to feel her skin. Her soft skin beneath the track pants she wore.

Honestly, he wanted to feel her.

He was so ready for it.

She seemed to be on the same train of thought as she pushed herself up, and then her hands were on his chest. They were unzipping the zipper and they were pulling it off, all the while, their lips never parted. They remained glued to one and the other. It was like there was a part of him —of both of them— that disabled them from separating.

His sweater fell on the floor, then, he stopped their kiss, pulled her shirt off and then shoved her back onto her back. This was it. He told himself. He wriggled out of his own shirt and…things went off from there.

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That was once a thing.

Anyways, thank you for reading.

Hunter