Back so soon, I know. But these chapters are mostly fillers. So why not.

Enjoy...

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X-X-Part 3-Chapter 18-X-X

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He had asked whether or not the reaping could simply be skipped, after all, there was one male Victor, and also only one female Victor. It was no surprise, to anyone, who the two tributes for the third quarter-quell were going to be. For no one, and he doubted people in the Capitol would even be surprised. But the mayor, as well as Elizabeth had told him, that no, the reaping had to occur as it had to be filmed so then it could be viewed by everyone because every district mattered and they wanted it known properly.

He didn't argue with them, simply stood there on the stage, as Elizabeth placed her hand in an empty bowl with a single piece of paper, and called out Genevieve's name, and then, for the boys, she called out his name. Then she presented them both carefully, almost hesitantly, as if she cared, and for a moment he really thought about it. This woman, who had seen Genevieve as a mentor for so many years, was now going to see her go into the arena, and probably never come back. Okay, Elizabeth was not a bad person. She was not the reflection of the Capitol. On the contrary, she was sweeter and understanding, as she had found many of the Capitol women were not.

He liked her, he was just mad, he guessed, giving a reason for his thoughts. Mad at her luck because she had never needed to grow up with the fear of her name being in a glass bowl, and the possibility of it being picked up, and then needing to go to the Capitol, needing to enter the arena, or else. She instead, grew up watching the games and then wanting to be an escort for the tributes. If she didn't know her personally, she would have probably thought of her really badly, but…deep down she was a good woman, with a good heart. He would hate the moment he'd need to say proper goodbyes to her.

There were more guards this time round, double the amount as the year before, and he wondered what the reason for that was. He understood it when his arm was grabbed immediately afterward, and he was pulled back into the mayor's house, and no one got to say goodbye to anyone this time. There was no time. New plans, they called it. Straight to the train. He didn't fight the guards as they pushed him around, but he also could not fully accept their manhandling.

Then they were on the train, with nothing but the clothes on their backs on them, and the doors were closing, and then the train was moving, and district six was soon in the distance behind them. He looked over at Genevieve and embraced her. He knew this was harder for her than it was for him. He understood that in the way her arms shook, and in the way she was unusually quiet, so still as well. He led her to the lounge and had her sit down around the table, which was full of food and refreshments already. He took a cookie to set an example and imply she should as well.

He sat back on one of the counters on the walls of the smoothly moving train. "Think about it this way," he told her. "You get to have great food, great company, me. And then also get to see a wonderfully luxurious city. See old friends and then perhaps get to go to heaven once we all die. I mean, you're going to heaven, I'll probably find myself rotting in hell for all eternity."

"You can win," she told him, her voice was really soft, but she hadn't shed a single tear since their time at the beach. She was stronger than she looked. "You're the son of a god," she said even softer. "You could kill everyone in this damned place. I have no chance." She said, but then, she also gingerly took a cookie as well, and put it in her mouth. "This is a shit place. I wish I'd never been born at all."

He smiled, actually smirked. "Really?" he asked her, and then he walked over to her and got down, so he was lower than her. He picked up a cookie. "But then you would have never got to taste such delicacies," he said as he put it in his mouth. He made a pleasing sound. "I mean, it dissolves in your mouth. Such sugars. Hot chocolate. Pasta. Meat, steak. Would have never gotten the joy of love, and the grief of pain. Being human is hard, but…being human is magnificent. I mean look at us, intelligent creatures who instead of joining together and building something to last forever, kill each other. Such wonders."

She actually laughed at the poor attempt to make such a joke. It wasn't a joke though. It was true. Humans had the smartest brains. They had managed to turn from cavemen to men creating super tech and flying birds and supersonic trains, hell, send men to the moon and back. They were smart, but they fought for the most futile of causes. Craved power and once they had it, abused it so people wanted to overthrow them. Craved for power and then turned tyrannical. Humanity was weird indeed. It was wrong and messed up in every way that it could be. Instead of love and peace, they kept on waging wars and causing death.

"I'll go take a nap," he told her then. "You should too, I'll wake you up to see the reaping from the other districts. How about that?" He asked her as he started moving out. She nodded in agreement and then he was walking down the thin aisle of the train until he found a room, that had his name on it. He got in and then, taking off his jacket, he threw himself on the bed and thought about what she had said.

Technically, he could use all his power, and flood the whole of Panem, killing every last one of them, but then what. With no real leader what would happen then? A civil war between the districts to get a leader on top, and what would that leader be? A tyrant? Would there be a democracy, as there should be? Or would it be a simple repeat of what was going on now, perhaps without the hunger games? No, he could not do such a thing, he could not help them and give them this illusion of safety and freedom when then another war would start all over again. A civil war.

The rebellion was going to be a civil war, either way, he told himself.

Then another scenario would be that a civil war wouldn't occur, but if he wasn't a prisoner to Snow anymore, why would Gaea leave him here, after all this was his prison as well as Annabeth's. She would pluck them out of the masses and she would then throw them both in the deepest cell in her palace, and would never take them out again. Ever. His days where the light shone on his skin would be over, and this time, it would be for real.

So could he really do anything? But play the games they told him to play, and hope for the best possible outcome. No, he couldn't, he told himself as he drifted off to sleep. He couldn't.

-.-

He woke up two hours later and followed through with what he had told Genevieve he'd do. He woke her up as well. In the matter of half an hour, they were both sitting in the lounge, with Elizabeth behind them, and he had the control in his hand. After all the time he had spent going over the victors the night before, he was now going to pass off his knowledge to her and hopefully, she would then put it to good use. He still didn't know who was reaped and who wasn't, and every inch of his body was hoping and begging no more listening gods that Annabeth hadn't. Knowing the probability anyone had listened, she probably was.

The screen turned on with the tap of a bottom, and he skimmed through Caesar opening the Hunger Games, and then he went through to the first couple of tributes. From district one. Gloss and Cashmere, the brother and sister who had won back-to-back games, he told her about them, and what he had learned. He did that for all the victors that came up. Brutus and Enobaria from two. Beetee and Wiress from three. Then…Finnick and Mags from four, he closed his eyes for a moment. He did not want to go against Finnick. The man had become his friend, truly, over the past years. Then five, it was him and Genevieve.

And six…He closed his eyes and let the voice from the Capitol escort do the talking. Annabeth Chase. He opened his eyes and looked, he wanted to yell at the television. Ask why on earth no one was volunteering. She had volunteered, shouldn't someone volunteer for her. But she looked okay, she looked mad, but not on the verge of tears, which was good, and next to her someone called Bryce, was called up from the male pool of victors.

From seven, Blight and Johanna. Woof and Cecilia from eight. Devlin and Elena from nine. Aston and Michelle from ten. Chaff and Seeder from eleven. Then it was Katniss and Haymitch from twelve, except that the boy, Peeta, volunteered for the older man, and he knew the only reason was that he wanted to help Katniss, and he also thought that Haymitch on the outside would be more helpful to her than he would. So that was that. A hellish lot of victors. One better than the other, with only a couple he didn't have his eyes set on marking them as a threat. They were all dangerous here.

He turned to Genevieve. "So here's what I think," he told her, without her needing to ask him. "We need to make alliances, and we need to make good alliances. For one, Annabeth will be in it, I don't know about her district partner, but…she's definitely with me. Then more, of course, I'm gonna try getting Finnick, that would also then mean Mags, I hope that's okay with you?"

"Percy," she said slowly. "I can't stay around you when you're with her."

He cocked his head to the side. "What do you mean?" he asked, suddenly preoccupied. He approached her and got to down, put his hand on her arm, and looked up at her. "What's wrong?"

"Percy," she said again, slower this time. Closed her eyes and sighed shakily. "There are things that I feel—dammit. You're in love with her, and you're gonna do whatever it takes to save her. Including killing me. I can't stay there with you. I can't go there in the arena and pretend that it's okay, that it's gonna last when you're just gonna kill me."

He had her understood at 'there are things that I feel'. Had him in pieces right there, because it had been the last thing he had wanted to make her feel. "Gen—" he tried but she cut him off.

"Look. I'm sorry," she said as she stood up and put some distance in between them. "I can't though. You're you, Percy, and you're…" She looked back, where Elizabeth had sat, but she'd gone to get something from her room. "Well, you're you." He let go of a shallow breath as she said that. She'd fallen for him, how had he let her do something like that. "You're loyal to a fault," she told him. "And that's probably the best quality. You always know what to say, you're like, a demigod. The son of a literal god. I can't hang with you. You're gonna end up killing me in the end."

"I wouldn't—"

"God, don't lie," she stopped him. "Really, I appreciate your offer, I do. But I can't."

"You will die, the careers—"

She shook her head. "I don't care, as long as I don't have to spend my time with you, and you trying to be a friend when in the end we're all enemies."

He stood up, anger pushing him to his feet. He was getting slightly ticked off. He'd listened to her pull out his best qualities and somehow turn them negative towards her, and now she wouldn't even let him get words out, he didn't get it. "Is that really what you want?" he asked her, reigning in his anger. "After all this time, you're gonna turn your back on me, when I was ready to…"

"To do what?" she asked him when he couldn't finish his own sentence. "Uh? To give me your life. You wouldn't. Not unless someone hit you really hard on the back of your head."

He closed his eyes and let out a deep, deep breath. "Fine," he said once he opened them. "Alright. I guess you'll be on you, and I'll do me. Good luck to you, Genevieve. I wish you the best."

She left. A hand to her face, she left the carriage through the sliding door, and he watched, with a little bit of his soul breaking inside as the door closed behind her. He fell in the chair behind him, the one she'd been sitting on, and just…sat there. His hand covering half his face, massaging his chin and his cheeks as he thought about what'd just happened. About everything that had occurred. As he went over the events. Again and again and again.

He didn't get it. He couldn't get it, how…after everything, he'd told her, after spending their whole afternoon together, on a beach hugging and just sharing…that she would get up and leave him stranded. He would have never guessed it. Never think it to be in her. Ever. It broke him slightly, to be betrayed —he guessed the word was— like this. Not from her, had never thought it to come from her. Since she had always been there, from his very first games, had stood by him then, and had stood by him for the following years, helping him through being a mentor, through losing kids.

Now on his fourth witnessed hunger games, as they were both going inside, she left him. Turned her back on him and left him for what? To die as soon as the canon from the cornucopia went off because she was no fighter. He saw her. She was in her thirties, but she had not won her games by killing others, except the last tribute, and even then, that kill had been pure luck. No real skill involved in her opponent tripping over and her running over to him to plunge a knife in their stomach.

After telling him that she had feelings for him, she did that to him. Not that he could ever be able to reciprocate those feelings, ever. His heart belonged to Annabeth, and it always would, no matter what happened to either him or her. Even in death, she would be the sole person to hold the entirety of his heart. No one else would ever be able to compare or even compete with her. No one, no matter their beauty or power or intelligence, no one. He had realized that a long time ago.

He leaned back on the couch, spreading out one of his legs in front of him, and folding the other at ninety degrees. He couldn't get it though. How one could go from zero to a hundred overnight. Then he thought, she probably had a spur of the moment the day before and realized where she stood during the hours of the night, and now, now she had told him after possibly having reflected on it for a while.

Goddammit, though. She knew about him being a demigod, and if she could pull something like this, then he wasn't so sure she would keep it secret for long. That's when he took to his feet and followed her through the sliding door and out of the lounge car. Down the hall and then finding her room. He knocked on the door from outside before sticking his head in. She was on her bed, and she had one or two tears sliding down her face. At the moment, he was a bit too angry to go to her and console her, after all, he still had pride.

"I need to ask you, Genevieve, to swear to me now, that you won't utter a single word of what I told you yesterday to anyone," he told her, a serious tone to his voice, meaning he meant no jokes, and that she too should take him seriously. "Swear it on the Styx."

She looked at him, her eyes squinted. "I swear it on the Styx," she said immediately and he was glad, he let out a sigh, and then he nodded at her.

A goodbye nod, then he was sliding her door shut. He then made his way to his own room. Where he crashed on the bed but found himself unable to sleep. Not for at least a couple of hours where eventually, the power of what had once been Morpheus, took him over and under and he was asleep then. Drifting through nothingness.

Until he woke up, sweating, on the verge of releasing a blood curling scream.

But he kept it in for the sake of everyone on the train. His shirt, he quickly noted, was wet with sweat and he was quick to take it off and throw it to the side. Then he was standing up, and frantically searching for the light switch as it had gotten dark and he wasn't liking that one bit. Never did to be honest, not after Tartarus, although he did do his best not to show that. After all, he couldn't have Annabeth worrying over his state of mind continuously, could he? The girl had enough to worry about on her own.

He'd once before, only, found himself explaining to her about some of the horrors that traveled through his mind. The horrors he's seen and been through and been forced to carry out. The list was long, and he did his best to give her an averaged out version, as well as a sugar-coated one, and shorter. It had happened after the one time she'd slept with him and he's almost strangled her. After apologizing to her about a million times he had talked about it to her, and he had found it to be very liberating, but time had been short.

He told her, that as horrible as everything in the arena had been, as horrible as everything going on around them was, he could never fully get the thought of what had been done to him, in Tartarus, out of his head. Never could, and he doubted he ever would be able to. He was positive, that those horrors, were to stay with him until the very last breath of his. If they didn't, he guessed he was blessed, which he really wasn't so they would. They would haunt him forever, and he had told her as much, to which she had only been understanding. She couldn't relate, but she could understand.

-.-

He didn't talk to Genevieve again on the train. Rather, he spent the rest of the night awake, and then the day after in his room, not even bothering to go to the lounge car to get some breakfast. It wasn't like he needed it in any case. He didn't feel like eating. He didn't feel like doing anything, to be honest, least of all go through the cleaning and the dressing up and all of that before standing on top a chariot and parading in front of all the Capitol. It wasn't one of the good days, he gathered pretty quickly.

One of those days where he didn't want to do anything or talk to anyone. Yes, those.

Not the first one he'd had, but surely the first in a long while.

He guessed it had to do with the talk he'd had the day before with Genevieve. After all, it could be classified as a fight, and having that, right before the games were due to start wasn't a great idea. Usually, tributes from the same district teamed up, or at least liked each other or talked to each other. Spent their time in the training center together. That had been what he'd done with Manila, and what he had seen every tribute since do. Now on the other hand, now he wouldn't even be able to look at her right.

He felt betrayed.

Well, he had been, he had every right.

Probably because she'd been preoccupied or whatever, halfway through the morning Elizabeth's head peeped through the door. He was sitting on his bed, a pen —Riptide— twirling in between his fingers. Again and again and again. His fingers were almost sore from the overdoing it of it, but he could do nothing as he sat there, watching the pen flick through his fingers again and again. His whole body was numb, and he didn't know what to do. What to think. He acknowledged her presence, if only barely, but didn't turn to look at her, his eyes instead fixated on the pen.

"I didn't see you at breakfast," the escort said. "Is everything alright, my Victor?"

He looked up at her and managed a smile. "Yes," he told her. "Don't worry about me," he added. He could certainly take care of himself, and he had proved that to her by winning the games.

"You don't look too good," she said then, walking into the room fully and letting the door slide shut behind her. "Bad dreams Percy?" her accent was so from the Capitol, but he realized it was the best of them. She was most likely the best of them. And she cared, no matter what she showed on the outside, he knew that she cared about him and Genevieve, especially after so many years working together. They were a team, and after these games, there would only be Elizabeth left.

"I'm okay," he told her, making effort for another smile. He wanted her to believe him. Her hand rested on his head, and as much as it was affectionate, the touch was caring. It brought to mind the thought of whether he would need to do any of that in the Capitol, and figured he would quickly know about it once they got to the Capitol. He could live in the bliss of not knowing for the last few hours. "Believe me. I'll be fine."

She smiled and cupped his cheek like a sister would a brother. "I believe in you, Percy," she said sweetly. "I am sure you will do wonderfully."

He wasn't sure he wouldn't. He would, obviously, try his best, but not to save his own life, rather save Annabeth's, but he would do that in a wonderful manner, no doubt. His life without hers didn't make sense, so he'd rather die than let her. If he had any choice in the matter, she was walking out of there alive, perhaps worse for wear, but she was walking out. Not him. He knew he would need her to understand this before it could ever happen, but yes. He was going to do wonderfully.

Elizabeth left quickly after that. Saying something along the lines of wanting to go check on Genevieve because she was also acting strange. He smiled after her, a smile that quickly vanished the moment the door closed behind her.

In the last bit of the raid, as he looked out the window, and as they entered a tunnel, something caught his attention. A bird. A bird and arrow somehow beautifully entwined. It took him a moment to recognize it, as he replayed the image in his head, but he was sure, as they entered the station that would leave them and drop them in the Capitol. It was a Mockingjay bird. An image he remembered as a pin.

Katniss's pin, more exactly.

It was happening.

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:)

Ah...I think I'm gonna upload more.

This feels unfair.

I hope you enjoyed it.

Stay tuned for more ;)

Hunter