CHAPTER 11: ALL IS FAIR IN LOVE AND WAR

Yellow diamonds in the light
And we're standing side by side
As your shadow crosses mine
What it takes to come alive

It's the way I'm feeling I just can't deny
But I've gotta let it go

Shine a light through an open door
Love and life I will divide
Turn away cause I need you more
Feel the heartbeat in my mind

It's the way I'm feeling I just can't deny
But I've gotta let it go

We found love in a hopeless place

...

Katniss Everdeen, District 12. Sect 7.

I am the Mockingjay. I am strong. I will not cry.

"You're jumping to conclusions. He might not be dead...maybe it was Enobaria." Johanna says in an

attempt to comfort me. She is still loud and sarcastic but I appreciate the effort.

"I'm alright," I say flatly, even though I'm not. I feel like worry and suspense will rip me apart. I have never looked forwards to the nightly Capitol anthem more than now.

A bark directly behind me breaks the silence between the three of us as Finnick and Johanna watch me carefully. Now, as we turn in unison, all of a sudden not one of us is standing still as we were, we all take on positions of combat.

This animal has blue eyes, and in the inky, thick darkness, I can not see it's body color or features. All there is are those gleaming blue orbs. I feel intense hatred for these beasts now, and my hand is so tight on my bow that if the beast moved the slightest bit closer, I could destroy it as it has destroyed all my hopes.

"Wait," Finnick breathes besides me. He's squinting, his calm sea colored eyes searching for the animal in the darkness. It walks forward, growling growling growling, at all of us, but especially at the District 4 victor besides me. Like the Clove-wolf had, it steps into a patch of moonlight and seems to pause there, waiting for us to look at it and revel at it's twisted beauty.

There is a short breath of despair besides me, and Finnick is suddenly breathing as quickly as I had been. He has reason to, and as I turn back to truly look at the wolf-like creature, I understand.

Its almost invisible, because it blends in so well with our dark surroundings. It has beautiful dark fur, a dewy midnight black. It is a small animal, with thin legs, a slim body, and a vicious muzzle that tapers into a delicate point. If I didn't know that it was a mutation, a hated creation of the Capitol, I would perhaps have lowered my bow.

Rawrrrrrrr. It opens it mouth wide and seems to be speaking as it snarls. But it makes no move towards us, instead fixing it's wide eyes upon Finnick, still growling.

Then I understand. Clove-wolf went to Cato. The dead Peeta-wolf came and attacked me. This one is Rosalie, and it will destroy Finnick if he doesn't run. These mutations are living ghosts of dead people that loved us. Clove is dead, Peeta is dead. The appearance of this creature means that...

"The cannon," Johanna mutters, catching on quickly. The cannon signified Rosalie's death. Not Cato's. Yet I don't feel relieved. I glance at Finnick, whose face is as pale as the moon above us. He understands, he has understood from the moment he saw it standing there.

"No..." he moans, and at that moment, as he drops his trident in an act of hopelessness like I was in earlier, the animal strikes.

It jumps, higher than anything could, and as it soars seven feet in the air towards Finnick, who doesn't even seem to care anymore, I release my arrow. The animal dies with a deafening screech. The body falls at my feet, but before I can even so much as retrieve my arrow, Johanna carefully picks the animal up by its stiff back legs and throws it over a mass of bushes into the valley below. We're standing on a hill, I realize, which explains the gullies and increased turbulence in the area. After several seconds of free-falling, we hear the body thud against the distant ground.

"That didn't help," I snap at her. Finnick has that distracted look flitting across his sculpted features again, his eyes dark and stormy as they focus upon the place where Johanna had thrown the animal across. In addition, she just threw away one of my arrows.

"I guess we're allies now, whether you like it or not," I say,taking command. I grab hold of Finnick's trident and hand it to him. He's still blinking hard, unable to accept what has happened. I feel neutral about Rosalie's death, but it must be heartbreaking for him. He's known her for five years and clearly cares for her more than I could ever care for anyone, even Cato. I find myself regretting ever calling him heartless, because although Finnick Odair may play with women as if with toys, he still is as susceptible to heartbreak as the rest of us. He finally snaps out of his smile as I shove the gold trident into his arm.

"Whatever," he mutters, biting his lip and taking hold of it. He doesn't look like the sculpted sex-god he is known to be, I feel like he's going to lose his composure any moment. "Let's get out of here."

"I'll carry your backpacks for you," Johanna says to me, and I thank her with a grim nod. She returns my nod by raising her chin rudely. I ignore her and instead stretch my arms and legs for the run-they are so so stiff from my injuries. My back sends searing pain throughout my body when I throw my arms back. I wince. This afternoon was a lifetime ago, eating bread and talking to Cato as if we had no cares is a time long past...this is the Hunger Games. Pain, suspense, and the fear of being killed at any moment. This is when it truly begins.

...

Sect 5 , 2 miles from Cornucopia.

We run steadily for a hour, stopping at intervals so that I can check how far we are from the Cornucopia. Finnick came up with the idea, although he's been so silent and downcast that it's as if Johanna and I are running alongside a ghost. He said that if we make our base at the Cornucopia, we can, or more specifically, I can heal and decide what to do next. Now, as I claw my way up above the forest canopy, I make up my mind- no matter who my allies are, whether I'm with Cato or Finnick, I still need to maintain the Mockingjay ruse. I'm not feeling so sure about the entire thing anymore...it's hard enough keeping myself alive, and if I win and Haymitch and Cato die, will I really want to lead the Rebellion alone? Will I even be happy anymore?

I don't even have any friends other than Gale back at home, and even he's been busy now that he's working in the mines. Haymitch was a real friend and mentor though...and Effie as well, but the only reason I saw her so much this year was because she was so involved with the Victory Tour. And...will there even be the yearly Hunger Games for me to look forward too if the rebellion succeeds? Although the Hunger Games are cruel and horrible, at least they entertain me somewhat. I've never mentored either. I was excited about mentoring tributes of my own, before I found out about the Quarter Quell. I guess it really did seem like a game of sorts at that time.

And Cato...hmph. I don't even want to think about him.

I swing myself up, reminding myself to be careful. Finnick offered to climb the trees in my place because of my back injuries, but I saw that he wasn't in the mood and would probably be so distracted that he would plummet to his death.

So here I am, itching at the edges of my cuts with one hand and hugging the gray trunk of the tree with the other as I look over the enormous expanse of the arena. The stars abovehead seem so far away although the ceiling of the arena can only be meters from the tip of this tree. I still can't understand how everything in the arena is so realistic. It's still the spoke of the wheel, with the 12 sections of sand neatly dividing the forest as well. The Cornucopia shines dimly in the center of the beach, although now that I've moved through several miles of forest, it's a different viewpoint.

I climb back down, and as I jump to the ground, the anthem begins to play for the nightly counting. The hologram of the Capitol seal appears in the sky-it's a bird holding eight arrows and surrounded by laurels. Dramatic music begins to play, as the words "The Fallen" appear.

"You don't have to watch," I say to Finnick. He's looking up at the sky with those famous emerald eyes, and his expression is so pained that I feel horrible for being so cocky and thinking about what would happen when I won. Finnick and Johanna could very well come out as Victor. Especially since they haven't done anything to anger the Capitol like I have, Snow isn't out to get them like he is for me. In fact, during training, District 4 was the popular vote for most likely to win.

" Seeing is believing, " Finnick replies.

The first death of today... my eyes widen as Gloss appears in the sky. Johanna snorts, apparently finding this very funny. I expect Rosalie's face to appear next, but that's it. The anthem plays again as the three of us exchange glances. Johanna shrugs and goes to put her shirt back on.

"What a clever trick," Finnick remarks dryly. He's referring to the way the Gamemakers made us believe that Cato and Rosalie were dead, when they are both actually alive. I think that they just wanted to see what our reactions are. President Snow certainly likes playing mindgames, so I wouldn't be surprised if he put them up to it.

All the adrenaline that's been fueling me for the past day suddenly leaves my body. I haven't slept for more than two days, and I'm hungry too. I didn't feel it before, because my stomach was so full of nervous energy. But now that I know that all my allies- and I guess I consider Rosalie an ally too- are okay, I'm absolutely starving.

Judging from the look on their faces, my companions are in need of rest as well, although they're probably better off than me, "Let's call it a day."

"We're far enough from the mutations, but we need to assign watches in case. Johanna can take first watch, I'll take second, and Katniss can have third," Finnick agrees.

Johanna points at herself, "Don't worry, I can take both your watches."

"Sounds good. I'm hungry though... do you two want anything to eat?" I ask.

"Why yes, I want a steaming bowl of meat stew and fourteen drumsticks dipped in cheese," Johanna replies sarcastically. I don't ask...I've had my fill of sarcasm between Cato, Clove, and Haymitch.

"Well I've only got bread..." I take my backpack from Finnick and find the two loaves that are left. Both are the seaweed kind from District 4. Finnick raises an eyebrow, obviously finding this strange. This is technically his bread, because the District 4 sponsors sent it, but I'm too tired to tell him.

It turns out that he and Johanna have bread and cheese as well, also from the District 4 sponsors. Being beautiful has its perks. We share our food with each other, chewing thoughtfully. Finnick is considerably lighter in spirit now, and I notice that although he is always polite and charming in the presence of others, he doesn't eat differently than I do. While Cato is picky with his food and Johanna likes to rip her bread into dozens of pieces before eating, Finnick and I eat quickly and efficiently. He and I might not be all too different after all.

"We only have one sleeping bag between us, so I guess you two will have to fight it out," Johanna declares. She gets up and climbs to the top of a boulder that juts out of the ground, and sits down on the gray surface, calling downwards, "I'll wake you if anything happens."

"You can have the sleeping bag," I tell Finnick. I wish that I had my own sleeping bag with me, but it's in Cato's backpack. At least he'll be comfortable at night. Suddenly I think of how Cashmere was pulling him along like a dog on a leash, and the way she looked at him during training. Now that they're together, who knows what will happen? The problem is that Cashmere is actually intelligent while Glimmer was stupid.

"No, you should have it, Katniss," Finnick replies. When he sees my expression of disgust as I think about Cashmere and Cato, he interprets it as my refusal of that idea. "Or, since we both insist on being courteous, shall we share it? As friends of course?"

I hesitate, looking at his beautiful eyes and confident, charming smile. Do I really want to sleep in such close proximity with Finnick Odair? The notorious womanizer? I'm not even sure if we're actually allies either, so he and Johanna might even kill me in my sleep.

"What's wrong?" He grins at my indecision and shakes his head, catching on to my thoughts. "Don't worry...I don't mess around with girls that don't love me."

Pshhh. I don't trust him...the dozens of women that he's gone through testify enough proof. It doesn't even matter that he's always been kind to me, or that he's the most attractive man in Panem. I don't want to put myself in such danger. But he's also right...it's cold tonight and I'm injured. If I refuse his offer, I might freeze.

I nod curtly. "Fine, but I swear, if you try anything, I'll slap you upside the head. And possibly kill you."

"Fair enough."

I pick the sleeping bag up and lay it in a relatively moonlit area of the small clearing, so that if he decides to do anything, everybody watching the broadcast will see. Finnick watches me with passive eyes, masking a smile but occasionally grinning a little. He finds me funny, but I'm not trying to be. I honestly just don't want to be molested by anybody tonight.

I climb into the small sleeping bag first, wriggling as far to the left as the rough material will allow. Finnick comes in next, and as he carefully settles himself, he accidently elbows me in the ribs. Our legs are touching and it's uncomfortable. Moreover, my wounds keep on rubbing against his shoulder blades.

Finnick clearly doesn't think anything of sleeping next to me, but being the gentleman, he respects my space and plasters himself against the right of the sleeping bag so that I'll have more room. I lay there, tense, thinking of last night when I was in a similar situation with Cato, while Finnick's breathing slows until I'm sure that he's asleep. When I turn to see how Johanna is doing, I nearly bump noses with him. He has dark curled eyelashes and his lips are so close to mine that I immediately turn back on my side to avoid possible contact. I'm afraid to do anything.

A while passes until I finally nod off. My dreams are empty.

...

Cato Greene, District 2. Sect 7.

If you love somebody, let them go, for if they return, they were always yours. If they don't, they never were.

It's something I heard long ago. I never understood it...but then again, the ones I loved had always been close by. There was Clove, who never left my side; and there was the other girl, the one that I have covered with so much emotion that even if I tried to remember the time we had together, I couldn't. All I know is that we were happy. She made me feel the way Katniss sometimes does...like I could die and be content at that moment.

But now, as I stroke the animal's chocolate fur and gaze into it's glassy eyes that are exact mirrors of Clove's, I understand. Every lingering scream that pierces the air from the other end of the jungle hammers stakes into my chest. That's Katniss' screams. She's being hurt, whether by another tribute or one of these mutations, it doesn't matter...I haven't felt such longing for anything in years. I want to break away from these ropes and run to her...to save her again, but if I did, Enobaria would follow and we would both be dead.

I'm reluctant to call it love. I know that Katniss wants me to reciprocate her feelings...but I am her first, the first she has loved. She doesn't know the feeling of loss, when the one you care most about disappears. I know the feeling well.

I see the hurt in her eyes when I refuse her, but if I let myself loose, it would be ten times worse. Maybe if I show her that she doesn't need to care about me or worry for me, she won't be so hurt when I die.

I stand up, casting one last glance at the animal that so resembles Clove, my nerves on end. Gloss' body lays two feet away, ripped apart and bloody. It was a spectacular death, if I say so myself. First his stomach was slashed in two, and then as Cashmere watched, frozen, the animal decapitated him. After that, Enobaria had had enough, and she killed it with her spear.

"We should clear out so they can collect the body," I order the two remaining Careers. They are both in shock, even Enobaria is wide-eyed as she watches Cashmere sob over her brother's body. If we don't leave the area soon, the scent of blood will attract more of the creatures. I don't want to know what will be next.

"Let's go," I say. Cashmere is still shaking and weeping uncontrollably, and I pull her to her feet with the rope. She falls onto me, still crying, and I push her off of me. "Let's go." I repeat again. This time when I begin to walk, she is the one to follow.

The cannon goes off as we walk away from the scene. Cashmere is still too upset to keep up, and she keeps on falling on her knees because the tears blur her vision. A year ago, I would have gotten angry at her incompetence, but I've changed, and I know what she feels. Her closest friend, her younger brother, is dead.

The anthem plays and Gloss appears in the sky as Cashmere begins to cry again. The hovercraft pulls in above us, hovering for a brief moment as it collects the body, before rising up into the night clouds again.

"Remind me of your plan again," Enobaria says, pulling us forward at a fast trot. She may have been tongue tied before, but now she takes charge. I step back and let her... she may not be my mentor anymore, but I won't forget that she is the one who taught me all I know, and is therefore more eligible Regardless, I'm technically supposed to be the prisoner that follows along, not a leader.

...

Sect 9 , 3 miles from Cornucopia.

"The plan?" Enobaria asks again once we stop walking hours later. We had lapsed into a silence that allowed each of us time to think and reflect on the recent turn of events. Cashmere has stopped crying, but her eyes are still red and puffy. Enobaria is as emotionless as usual, and has spent the past half hour rubbing at her teeth with a finger as we walked.

"Well..." I scratch at my wrists, which sting as they chaff against the rope.

"We can leave for the Cornucopia in the morning. Then..." An old streak awakens in me, and I smirk coldly. "We hunt."

Since Enobaria is the only one among us who is fit to take the nightly watch; with my injuries and Cashmere's emotional turbulence and whatnot, she tells us to rest.

When Cashmere goes to lay down, Enobaria pulls me aside. I feel like a child again, and she's my mentor.

"Let me have a look at that," she gestures at my chest.

"What happened? There was so much blood back where you left us that I figured you were dead. You don't look too good."

She doesn't mention being drugged to sleep, although the likelihood of her forgetting is nonexistent. She just doesn't think it important enough to fight with me about. I'm glad, I have a pounding headache that clashes with fatigue.

I bring both hands to my temples and run them over my eyes.

"I guess love isn't meant to be skin-deep," I sigh vaguely as she helps me take off my bandages.

Enobaria smirks, and I am reminded of how much we are alike.

"In other words, Rosalie seduced you," she snickers. She looks at my chest. "Hmph, this isn't as bad as it looks. Way to be melodramatic, Cato."

She licks her finger and slides it against my cold skin, and then scrutinizes the smear of blood with her dark, olive eyes. I feel small again. I feel like the little boy sniffling as his mentor ties his broken fingers together. I was wrong, what I told Katniss is wrong. I do care for Enobaria. She gave me purpose, pushed me through sweat and blood... shared with me her world, the world of glory.

"This is bull, Cato. You're fine, go to sleep!" Enobaria shoves me away, muttering about exaggeration and me being a drama queen at heart. I smile, then grin behind her back. If only she knew.

The skin of my wound is indeed healed, but I know that injuries, like love, are rarely skin deep. My heart could be leaking and my lungs could be spliced into a dozen pieces.

"All the better." I smirk, speaking out loud. Better for Katniss and I both... no heartbreak or lifelong regrets. Just the agonizing but humiliating death of Cato Greene through internal flesh wounds.

I laugh quietly but angrily at the thought, my hands tearing at the skin of my neck. I don't realize what I'm doing until the bloody scratches begin to sting.

I make a sound between disgust and scorn. Enobaria mirrors it, watching me with interest.

Cashmere abruptly sits up, her hair mussed, squinting at me. Then she groans sleepily.

"Shut up Gloss, will you?" She turns in her sleeping bag and immediately falls back asleep.

I stare at her for a moment, then walk past her sleeping body to place my own sleeping bag down.

I calculate the position of the stars as I drift asleep, hoping that they will fall into formation and solve this cruel puzzle that we are pieces in.

...

The Capitol, Gamemaker Control Center, 8 miles from Arena.

Coriolanus Snow grips the arms of his chair tightly as he watches the turn of events. Katniss Everdeen is still stirring rebellion, even though she is in the arena.

"How can this be?" he snarls aloud, spit angrily flying forward. The hologram screen showing Katniss Everdeen asleep flickers. "SHE SHOULD BE DEAD!"

The Gamemakers in the level below shift uncomfortably. The President is glaring at them evilly from the balcony above. Even through the glass partition they hear him roar. Plutarch Heavensbee gets up from his leather seat and paces a full circle around the room, checking on the teams of Gamemakers in charge of each sect.

"Sit down," Taye orders nonchalantly. The young man has one hand gracefully resting on his chin in a thoughtful position. He sits at the head of the Control Room, in the place where President Snow would usually occupy. A legion of Peacekeepers stand alert at his side, daring anyone at all to oppose them.

"How are the tributes?" he asks the Gamemakers as Plutarch reluctantly takes his seat. Without waiting for an answer, he continues speaking in the same quietly powerful voice. "Ensure that the Careers and the Mockingjay arrive at the Cornucopia simultaneously. It'll make for a good show."

"Yes, President," the Gamemakers cry in unison, shooting nervous glances up at Corniolanus Snow's angry figure in the balcany. They know that recognizing Taye Helistin as their President is treason, punishable by death. But the young raven-haired man also controls the entire Peacekeeper multitude, so they're safe, right?

Plutarch Heavensbee sighs."And shall we continue to execute your earlier request?"

"Yes, keep both District 4 tributes alive." Taye looks at his watch, then runs his dark eyes over the row of holograms keeping tabs on each of the remaining tributes. There are a dozen or so, which means that half are dead.

Katniss Everdeen sleeps beside Finnick Odair. The Careers are two miles away. Haymitch Abernathy's group is directly across the arena, not asleep, but heatedly discussing what they should do. Beetee is operating alone, feverishly perfecting a device he's made from wire that can detect nearby water.

He stands up and gestures for the two Peacekeepers flanking him to follow. The other five Peacekeepers will stay in the Control Room and ensure that his instructions were being carried out. As Taye presses his palm against the door's sensor, he glances up at the balcony. His uncle is staring down at him with murder screaming in his beady snake eyes.

He leaves the room and begins to walk down the hallway to the hovercraft outside, slightly unnerved.

"How is the rebellion, Captain? In District 10 are they still emptying the storehouses?"

The blonde Peacekeeper clears his throat and speaks in a deep voice, his eyes as piercing as ice. "No sir, District 10 is currently being tightly controlled, as are the other districts."

"Good, good. But Captain, I've heard reports of tear gas and public whippings as- what did you call it? Control."

Velorum Greene's jaw tightens. He has been Captain of the Peacekeepers for years now, and not once has he been questioned like this. By such a brat as well, a lovesick one at that. He wants to sneer, but instead the Captain politely dips his head and answers.

"Sir, without such events it would be impossible to control the population."

Taye smiles slightly to himself as he receives the answer. Of course. Fear is more effective than love, but somehow he couldn't bring himself to exercise it. Would he not be the same as his uncle then? Corniolanus used fear as his scepter and sat on a throne of oppression. Is that not the reason why the people rebelled in the first place?

Yet, what did he care if the people loved or hated him? As long as the ones he cared for were safe, Taye could throw away the entire world. However, he needed to maintain control over the Peacekeepers to carry out his plan. As long as he controlled the Peacekeepers, the Districts, the Capitol-his uncle...they were all in the palm of his hand.

"If your son was killed in Quarter Quell, would you end your allegiance to me, Velorum?" he muses.

"No, President."

"Good."

/Authors Note: Thank you for the reviews! I really appreciate them and always look forward to them, although I would appreciate it if you didn't call me or my characters names. I tried not to be so flowery with my writing this time, hopefully the chapter is easier to read and understand.