A/N This chapter is dedicated to my lovely reviewers who never fail to cheer me up. A Red/Johanna scene for you

Chapter Twenty-One- Rampage

I don't know how long I wander for, but the sky is black as coal by the time I come back to my senses. The District 11 blood still on my hands, and arms, and down my front, I hear voices not far ahead and I know that whoever it is, I have to take them out while I'm still in this state of mind.

I know that at home the screen will be filled with my face and the word 'Rampage' will be in the corner. Claudius Templesmith and whoever his guest commentator is today will be discussing every move I make now.

I slide through the forest like a predator, my bare feet making little to no sound. I get closer to the voices and recognise them. I duck into a bush and watch them.

It's Red and Mary. She's looking bad, propped up against a tree, surrounded by silver parachutes. Obviously the District 4 Mentors have thrown every bit of sponsorship money at her to get her back to full strength but it doesn't appear to have worked.

Red is trying to coax her into drinking some water from a canteen and she's refusing.

"I'm dying Red, don't waste the water on me, you don't know when it's going to rain again. Save it for yourself."

I know he won't.

"I won't Mary, just drink it. I can last."

Another silver parachute drifts down from the black sky and Red catches it deftly in one hand.

"More medicine?" she asks.

"Water," Red chuckles. "Now there's no reason for you to argue, just drink it."

She gives a pained smile and gives in, letting him tilt the water bottle to her lips.

She coughs. "Thanks."

"Better?" he frowns, concerned.

"Yeah, I'll do the first watch. Go to sleep. I'm fine now."

"I don't believe you."

Just as I told him on the rooftop, he's far too good for this game. He could easily win, joined the Careers, and killed them in their sleep. Instead his Game has been spent taking care of a girl who should have died the first afternoon of blood loss.

My heart aches for their situation. She will die; no amount of magic creams and lotions will save that leg. The wound is red and inflamed, except for the seeping yellow pus. The only hope she has is if a hovercraft picks her up right now and takes her to a Capitol hospital, which it won't. Red can't admit this, he can't end her suffering.

I can.

The audience will be waiting to see what I do. Will I charge in and slaughter this poor, unfortunate couple? They all think I'm a monster now. Maybe I am, maybe I will be when this is all finished, but killing Mary, no matter how mercifully I do it, will hurt Red. I can't hurt Red.

As I sit there in the bush, formulating a plan, Mary drifts off to sleep. Red covers her with an extra blanket and finds his own tree to sit against, keeping watch.

They can't have cameras everywhere. There is a thick weeping willow not far from their camp; I reckon there are no cameras that can see in there. When I finally wriggle back to my feet, I slip around the perimeter of the camp noiselessly to check it out. It is very dark beneath the willow vines. I can hardly see my own hand in front of my face, so I use my hands to check the trunk of the tree for hidey-holes that could have cameras stuffed into them. None. Good.

Phase Two of my plan. I silently climb a tree nearby and use the density of the woodland to swing from one branch to the next, one tree to the next, until I'm in the tree right above Red.

There's a rustle of leaves as I crouch, ready to leap.

He looks up at the sound and I throw myself right down on top of him.

We both hit the floor with a joint 'oof'.

Red is up first, in a fighting stance. His curved sword and Mary's mace are next to her but he falters in reaching for them.

"Johanna?" It's dark but he knows it's me, even with my new haircut.

"Told you I'd fall on you from a tree."

"Thought you were joking but ok." He rubs his shoulder. "How's the Game going, we've been out of the loop." He nods at the still sleeping Mary.

"It just got interesting," I say before socking him right in the chiselled jaw.

He grunts and holds his face, which is now an awful picture of surprise and betrayal.

"What are you doing? Why?" He fends off another of my swipes.

"I told you that I'd kill you," I sneer. "Remember my promise on the roof?"

Please remember, I beg. Please remember that I promised not to kill you.

"I…I do." He looks confused. He does remember my promise, but still doesn't know what I'm trying to do.

I punch out again and he steps back again. We do a little dance as I drive him towards the willow tree. My eyes flick to the tree and finally he gets it, and turns to run into its branches. I follow and for the audience, flick my new knife out of my pocket as I disappear from their screens.

I can just about make out Red's shape in the dark but he doesn't come near me. I don't blame him.

"I promised," I whisper.

He edges towards me.

"Then tell me what's going on," he replies echoing my whisper.

I reach down and grab one of the pockets in my combat pants and tear it clean off, taking a square of the pants leg with it too.

"Come here," I say and as soon as he is in reaching distance, I grab him by the collar and crush our lips together. He holds me tightly, like he did on the roof terrace.

I end the embrace by reaching up and digging my nails into the side of his face.

"Ow!" he exclaims.

"We're fighting remember? We need to come out of here looking like it," and I nod to the other side of the willow vines and grab him again. "Hit me."

"No," he hisses, pushing me away.

I plant an elbow into his gut and he doubles over.

"Hit me!" I insist.

He does, right across the left cheek. It's powerful too and I'm thrown to the floor. I moan exaggeratedly, hoping the cameras will get bored of filming a groaning tree soon and find someone else more interesting. Our trackers will tell the Gamemakers if one of us is dying so they'll be able to flick back to us when it gets exciting.

I've bitten my cheek in the fall so I spit blood on the floor.

Red immediately starts for me and reaches for my hand. I take it and he yanks me into his arms again.

"I'm sorry," he breathes into my ear.

"Don't worry about it, I started it," I reply into his. "How are you?"

"I'm fine, a little thirsty, but ok. Glad to see you." He squeezes me tightly again. "Are you alright?"

"Peachy," I say grimacing. "I'm on a rampage."

"What?" He pulls back to look into my eyes.

I nod. "Didn't you hear the cannons?"

"That was you?" I nod again. "Both of them?"

"I think the Capitol will agree that I've been drastically underestimated," I try to smile.

"But why Johanna?" His handsome face looks worn, tired, and worse, disappointed. I can't stand him looking at me like that. I put my hands on either side of his face and force him to look into my eyes as I tell him,

"Because I want to go home Red, because I'm not the pathetic piece of fodder everyone thinks I am, because I want to teach them all a lesson."

For the first time during this whole horrendous ordeal, my eyes fill with tears. Don't let them see you cry, my uncle had said. To be fair, no one could see me, no one but Red.

The tears spill out down my cheeks and I turn away to wipe my face with my sleeve.

"Why did you come here then Johanna?" he asks gently. "To kill me and Mary?"

"No, I promised you."

"But you didn't promise Mary…"

"She's dying anyway Red."

"She's not some runt in a pack that you put down because it's the 'kindest thing to do'!" He bursts. "She's strong."

I turn back to look at him. He's shrunk down into a squat, fingering patterns into the dust. I kneel down in front of him and take his hands in mine.

"I know, I know. But she's really hurt, and she's not going to get better. It doesn't matter how many parachutes Finnick Odair throws at you, she's not living, she's just surviving."

"I can't leave her Johanna, not after what she's done for me, how much she's helped me." Now he has tears in his eyes and he sits back. "I can't let her die."

"I can," I say, vocalising my own thought from earlier. "We've been fighting in here, I chase you out, see Mary. I'll do it quickly. She won't even wake-up I promise."

"No, no." He shakes his head, he needs a little more encouragement so I straddle his lap and kiss his forehead softly.

"If you stay here with her, the Careers will come through and kill you both. If you let me help you, you can be out of here and stand a chance."

I can see him start to relent; he tilts his head and kisses my lips again.

"Will you do me a favour though?" he breathes. I nod and he whispers into my ear what he wants.

"I will."

We kiss a couple more times before we hear the rain start again above us.

"Go now," I say. "The rain on the leaves will mask the sound of your movement."

"Will you find me after you…" he trails off.

"No," I say firmly. "You can't go from one damsel in distress to another. We're better off alone."

"You sound just like my uncle," he says with a smile and strokes my cheek. "If you do win, you two should hang out, I think you'd get on. He's only a few years older than me because my Mom's his way older sister. I'm the good-looking one in the family though."

"I don't doubt it," I grin. "Now get out of here." I push his chest just like on the rooftop before the Game began.

Before he goes, he holds me again. This time there's a desperation between the two of us. We know that we won't see each other again.

"It's a real shame that this is how we had to meet Johanna Mason. I could have really taken a shine to you."

"No you wouldn't have. You would have stayed in District 4, married a mermaid and been happy bringing up your part human, part fish children," I say with a smile. "And I would have stayed in District 7, married a guy that I thought was beneath me and spent the rest of my life belittling him and making both our lives miserable."

"Well you've got to have a dream," he laughs. "Maybe when you win you can move to District 4 and find a good hearty fisherman to teach you what's what."

"Maybe." I hold up my knife. "Remember we've been fighting."

He kisses me one more time, takes the knife and cuts into his bicep.

"Nice aim," he says to me as he gives the knife back. He then holds his other shoulder, like it's been dislocated and limps out into the rain. It's almost torrential and he's soaked within seconds. He turns back to pick up the mace and a pink backpack of his own but doesn't look at Mary who is still asleep, sheltered by the tree she is under.

I take a deep breath, grab my bag and go out into the rain. I try to look as though I am following him but I 'see' Mary.

When I get closer to her I see just how bad she is. She's pale and I can smell her wound. I don't know how Red has managed to live with it.

I realise that the knife I have is not big enough to do the job that I promised. Uncle Fern always used a big knife on the animals in the butchers. One fast cut with a big knife becomes several lingering cuts with a smaller knife. Now I see why Red took the mace and not his knife.

My feet are starting to squelch in the mud but I push through and pick up the knife. I kneel down next to Mary and push her hair back from her neck, placing the knife under her left ear at her throat.

Her eyes flutter open and a seizure of fear and guilt rushes through my veins but her eyes aren't accusatory or angry, they seem soft.

"Thank you," she breathes and before I can second-guess myself I sharply bring the knife around to her right ear. I'd sunk it deep so hopefully she hadn't felt anything. I prop her forward though so that if I have made a mess of it she doesn't die choking on her own blood. I don't hear a sound from her and her cannon fires quickly. After a couple of minutes I do as Red asked. I lay her on her back and search through her pockets for her token. It's a shell from the beach near her house. Red has an identical one. I put it to her lifeless lips and then place it on her brow, between her eyes, a death ritual from District 4.

"Be at peace," I whisper to her and move on quickly. Don't want the nation to think I've gone soft.

Before I've taken five steps I hear the sound of weapons clashing not far away.

Oh no. Red.