Author's Note: This alternate ending's awfully long. Hopefully I can wrap things up within two chapters.


Eston von Bock, District 7

We're busy debating how to go about knocking our rations down a notch when the cannons fire.

Cannons. Plural. There were only two other tributes left—I've kept careful track of everyone. So, now... it's... It's just us?

I don't notice I'm still staring at the last of our food until Amer tries to get me back to the waking world.

"Yo? Earth to Eston!" A hand is waved in front of my face, and I blink, looking up. "You okay?"

"Hm? Yeah, I guess so..." I close my eyes and rub my forehead with a sigh. "You know... That was the last of the playing field just then. We're... We're the only ones still here."

Not expecting this revelation at all, Amer just stares at me blankly as the words try to penetrate the admittedly-thick barrier into his brain.

"The only ones?" he finally echoes, the vaguest bit of realisation just starting to enter his expression.

"Yeah." I shift my legs, feeling a bit restless.

"Well..." Amer crosses his arms. "The Capitol had better let us out right now, because there's no way we're hurting each other!" He glares up at the sky like a hovercraft driver really is going to agree with him and descend to pluck us all out.

"You know they're not going to do that," I mumble, any energy I may have had sapped by the knowledge I've been able to put aside in this alliance, the knowledge I could easily die here, resurfacing. "They'd sooner watch us starve." I stare back down at the little food remaining.

"But... But that's not very entertaining, right?" Amer brings up, his voice a little higher-pitched.

"I wouldn't think so." I look up at the sky. Of course, if they decide that's not entertaining enough, they'd probably sic some muttations on us. And they'd want to do that as soon as possible, so we can put up some sort of a fight in the final showdown.

Or... No... They wouldn't want something... They wouldn't want something more dramatic... would they?

"Well, they'll just have to be... un-entertained, then!" Amer announces. "We'll just have to-to starve, then. But we'll do it as friends!" He crosses his arms firmly and sits, like he's planning to starve in that spot exactly.

"If you really want it that way..." I start, not so confident.

"Well—yeah! Why wouldn't I?"

I look up at him. "Um... Listen, I don't mean to be insulting, but... Amer, you've got about twice as much meat on your bones as either of us. If we sit here and wither away... You'll be the last one standing."

Given the images of the two of us starving to death right in front of his eyes, it doesn't take quite as long for the horror to appear on his face.

"No. Nonono. N-No!" he stammers, getting to his feet for no reason other than franticness. "That—no. That's not going to happen! I-I-I... I won't let it happen!"

"How?" I respond without thinking.

Amer grimaces and sits back down. For once not having much to say, he just looks around blankly. Apparently he notices our other ally's change in mood.

Raivis is just sitting there, curled up in as tight a ball possible, quivering badly and rocking from side to side like a shivering pendulum.

"Are you okay?" Amer jumps in, swooping to his side.

"I'm just fine," Raivis replies in the most unconvincing voice imaginable.

I can't help but cringe. Just when we finally got him acting relaxed... I guess good things can never last long in the Hunger Games.

Amer can't convince him to stop being a quivering pillbug no matter how hard he tries.

"But—I'll tell you one thing for sure!" the 10 cries, desperate to calm down Raivis in some way. "I am not going to hurt you."

Raivis isn't visibly comforted. It's questionable whether he was really listening or not.

"I'm... not going to hurt anyone," Amer mumbles, more to himself as he slowly gives up. "Maybe... Maybe I should just..." His gaze drags over to the armoured glove on the ground. He stares at it for a while, not jumping straight into things for once.

"But... But I can't make you guys kill each other!" he chokes out, gripping the sides of his head. "What am I supposed to do? What am I supposed to do?" Almost at Raivis-level hysterics, he paces madly.

"Well, that part's easy. You're supposed to kill us both. The hard question is, what are you going to do?"

"Yeah... Yeah..." My input about as useless as I figured it would be, he just keeps mumbling to himself. "But... But the only way for you guys to not have to kill each other... is if... I..." I can see the chill travelling down his spine as he stops moving. "N-Nuh-uh. That... No. But..." Gradually becoming less coherent as the idea absorbs him, Amer continues to ramble in broken sentences before stopping and sitting down.

"O-Okay," he starts, addressing both me and Raivis. "Do you..." Voice quavering, he takes a deep breath. "...want me to... kuh-kuh..." He swallows. "...k-kill one of you?"

Raivis Lithu, District 12

My heart stops. So does my breathing and my rocking.

Prying my face away from my knees despite the instinct screaming for me not to leave their comfort, I study Amer. He's shaking a little now, his gaze dropped to the ground in a cringe.

"I... I don't," he finally continues, fighting for every word, "want to kuh-kuh... d-do it, but... if... if it would be better for y-you..."

I just stare at him, a steady flame of increased panic welling up in me that I'm too strained to put out. Amer can barely bring himself to return my gaze, and a little tang of guilt wells up at the back of my throat before he looks back down.

"Would you really do it?" Eston's voice is so quiet I can barely make out the words.

Amer flicks his gaze to Eston. "I'll try my hardest. I mean, we all know I'm not doing it because-because I have anything against you, right?"

"We know," Eston responds.

Amer looks at me desperately, and, breath quickening, I rapidly nod a yes.

"I just can't-can't leave this world knowing I'm making you kill each other, that... That's all..."

We sit in so tense a silence I can't help but curl up again. It's oddly comforting, hearing nothing but your own breath as it puffs up warm against your thighs. It's not comforting enough, but... It's all I've got.

"Okay."

With a gasp that's more of a reflex than a reaction to anything, I pop my head back up to see what's happening.

"Yeah?" Amer says slowly.

Eston closes his eyes. "I'm amazed you would do that for us, Amer. While I... I can't honestly say I'm ready to put my life on the line, I know I could never kill him." He looks at me for just a second before turning back to Amer. "Thank you."

Shaken—figuratively and literally—by the thought Amer's really going to kill one of us, my brain decides to stop working and my mouth to start.

"You can't die!" I blurt out. "N-neither of you! Amer, y-you're too good, a-and Eston! You-you're too smart! You could do something with your l-life, when I... Compared t-to you guys, I'm just... worthless..." My mind finally catches up, and I put my forehead back on top of my knees. "But that d-doesn't mean I want t-to d-die!" Half-choking on tears, I decide to just focus on breathing.

"None of us want to die," Amer mutters. "But I'd rather die than let anything hurt my friends."

"Thank you," Eston says again gravely. He allows for a moment of silence before turning himself to face me.

"Let's decide this, then," he exhales.

"D-decide what?" I stammer stupidly.

He rubs a thumb across his forehead.

"Which of us is going to live."