Hey I'm back!

School kind of just...hit me soon after I last updated, so I've been busy, but luckily tomorrow is the last day of assessments until next Tuesday, and I saw this one review from my inbox, which kind of reminded me that I still have like, half as much as I've already uploaded worth of this story, so I'm gonna let some flow.

I hope you enjoy :) I'll probably add a second chapter for the two months wait. I dunno.

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X-X-Part 3-Chapter 22-X-X

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The end of the week came all too soon.

The second day of training, he didn't attend it, but rather, had two appointments in one day. Skipping dinner with his district partner and Elizabeth, instead, he was out. The woman, which was who he was doing, was anything but gentle with him and he went to his second appointment drained and in a bad mood, but for the sake of everything, he made sure he was good, and she was pleased and…whatever.

Annabeth asked him, more than once the following day whether he was okay, to which he replied that yes he was, even though, no, he wasn't. Only once they were out of the arena, and on their way to thirteen would he tell her that though. Right now, she didn't need distractions from what needed to happen. And she needed to remain alive. At least until Plutarch got them out of the arena, then they were safe. Then he could talk to her all through the night and cuddle with her and tell her everything that had been plaguing his mind for the past four years. Not before.

He got close enough to Peeta that he was confident that once the time came in the arena, and he pulled the, hey let's be allies card, neither he nor Katniss were gonna kill him on sight. Katniss was still dubious about him, but he couldn't do anything about that but wait and hope than once everything is fixed she can trust him. They needed it to work, apparently, the fate of Panem rested on that.

On the last day, each tribute had the chance to show a specific skill to the game makers and to them alone, and so there they were, in a small room, all sitting on a block next to their district partner. He had the corridor on one side, and then Genevieve on the other so he sat there in silence, sometimes turning towards where Annabeth sat, three spots further down that he was. Other times he looked at Finnick talk animatedly with Mags, and he ended up finding himself praying that none of them met a bad end in the arena. As much as more than half of the tributes were in on the rebel plan, there was still a chance for them to die, he just hoped that when they went, they went quickly.

One by one, the tributes were called in, starting with the male from one, Gloss, followed by the female, Cashmere, and then two. Three. Eventually, Finnick went in, sending him a wink as he passed. Mags went in, and then it was his turn. He stood up calmly and dried his sweaty hands on his pants. Gave a look at Annabeth and then he was walking down the dark corridor and then entering the large and spacious room.

He looked around himself and actually wondered what he was going to do.

His eyes were on Plutarch, as he thought about and then, then he went towards the weapons, and rather than asking for trainers to come through to show his mastery in the art of the sword, he simply threw it, at the targeting range, and watched as it scored a perfect bullseye. He picked up some other knives and threw them around the sword in the middle, and then through. It was a circle, and in between...what could be interpreted as an arrow. The Mockingjay pin...not that he was going to draw out a Mockingjay with knives. But as he had done it, he'd had one thought in his head, spark.

He bowed for the game makers' amusement and then left the room without another word.

He nodded at Annabeth when she looked at him, and then he was gone.

The next night, the scores came through, live on television, presented by Caesar Flickerman, like everything always seemed to be when it was related to The Hunger Games. He'd heard, that Caesar was the person that had lasted the longest working around the Hunger Games and he wondered why—the guy was intolerable.

Eliza and Genevieve both sat in the lounge room with him, accompanied by Dorian and her stylist. They were all in there together. Caesar started with Gloss, getting an eleven, Cashmere also got an eleven. They were not in the alliance though, so he'd actually need to watch out for them. Brutus and Enobaria both got tens, which also really meant he needed to watch out for them. This was the career pack, and they were deadly. Finnick got an eleven, but luckily there, he was on his side, Mags a seven.

"Percy Jackson," Caesar said with an intense voice. "With an eleven."

So Plutarch had liked the show. Genevieve came out with a seven as well. Then the male from six got a six. Annabeth got an eleven as well, which was much better, much truer, than the score she'd gotten in her own games. Blight, the male from seven got an eight, and Johanna got a ten. Then it was medium to low scores from thereon. Except that when it came to district twelve, something...unexpected happened.

"Peeta Mellark, scoring a twelve!" Caesar said and his eyes widened as he read the next one. "Katniss Everdeen, also with a twelve. Marking the first time in history where two tributes from the same district marked full points in the individual assessment!"

That was where he knew that Plutarch had been biased. Whatever the two tributes from twelve had done, he wondered whether any other game maker would have given them full points. And whether if it was so, what was Plutarch looking to prove with giving them full points and no one else. Was he looking to show the districts that there was hope of them winning, was he looking to show them that they stood together, no matter the tales of love and rebellion circling them. He didn't know, but he also was getting sick of not knowing. That same night, as he walked downstairs, to get a move on to start going to his last appointment, he was stopped by Finnick, telling him to follow him, and he then found himself in the same room as he had his first day. Plutarch was there, and so was Beetee.

"We found a solution to get you out of the games," Plutarch said, getting straight to the point. "For it to work, you're gonna need this man alive by then, so…all I'm saying is don't get him killed. On midnight of the second day, the eve of the third, you should all be looking out of a plane, at a crumbling arena. Not later. Stay alive until then and then we're off to thirteen. Sounds like a plan?"

He didn't say it like that, but that was basically what he said. Percy had nodded and then had left, not wanting to be late for his appointment, knowing that if something happened again, there would be far worse consequences to it.

-.-

The next day it was a drill for many, but he wasn't going to sit through any of Eliza's rants about how he would need to smile for the cameras, flex his charm on Caesar, and overall, make the Capitol adore him more than they already did. Be happy about the games, talk about how they were a great idea, great indeed. So he could prove he was the best, so he could prove there was no one better than him and he could not wait, for the next day to arrive, to find himself in there. That he was ready to kill, in other words.

Instead, he met Finnick in the street the next morning, while they were both making their way back to the training center, and he proposed that they take an extra-long walk, just to talk, with no imminent ears listening in on them. Finnick agreed, everybody would be too busy getting ready for the night to really notice either of them gone for an extra hour.

So they talked and they shared their tricks for their individual assessment two days prior. Finnick had exhibited real good skills with his trident, which meant it was a given that a trident was going to end up in the arena, in the cornucopia. Finnick asked him about his thoughts on his chances to make the alliance with the two from twelve.

"Honestly," he said. "I have no idea. Something will come up. Do they trust you?"

Finnick laughed as they turned the corner and the training center was in view. "If there is someone who's got a chance to get in with them, it's not me, Percy. It's you."

"Me? How?" he asked, a bit incredulous. "I've tried, perhaps Peeta, but Katniss…she wouldn't trust her best friend if she was in front of her."

"Yeah," Finnick agreed. "Just. Try your best, alright. If she starts shooting at you then cheers."

"What if we can't find each other, I mean, get together— gods!"

Finnick laughed. "I get what you mean," he said once he stopped. "Then if you're with them, you stick by them and do all you can to make sure they don't die. And the same goes for me. We're gonna find each other in the end. All of us. So that by midnight on the second day we're all there, in one spot, and it's easy for them to extract us from there. That's our best bet."

"What about the careers?" he asked the male from four. "What if they get in the way?"

"Then we'll deal with it," Finnick told him. "I'm sure they'll get some of us. The only thing we can do is just move on."

Truth to his words. They were in front of the doors to the training center then, and he turned to Finnick. "I'll see you tonight then, hopefully with clothes on this time," he told him, and the male from four laughed again. Then they embraced for a quick moment before they each went off in their own directions.

-.-

He found Annabeth in her apartment, in which he sneaked into, and then found her room and knocked on it. She looked surprised to see him, and she frowned first, but then smiled and embraced him, her arms wrapping around his neck. He intended to spend as much time as he could with her today, and then well, tomorrow they'd be together until the very end of it. She'd brought him to her bed, but they didn't make love, for one it was way too early for that, and for two he was really tired.

Instead, she sat with her back on the board of the bed, and let him rest his head on her stomach, her hand running through his hair as he closed his eyes and tried to get some sleep. He hadn't slept at all that night. Sometimes he managed it, but most nights he didn't. So he'd simply spend the night awake in some stranger's bed and then the next morning he'd quietly get dressed and then leave out the door. It was always timed, he looked at the clock when he walked in, and as soon as the time ran out, he'd walk out. Some times the hours were more, and so he'd see them, also when they woke up, and those were the worst times.

Annabeth was kind, she let him sleep on her stomach for three hours straight. Never once moving, not if she needed the toilet, or cramps crawled up her legs. She just sat there, a book in her hands and read as he took a long nap on her. His arms wrapped around her, and his legs entwined with hers. He woke up in the same position as he had drifted off to sleep, and found her lips, soon after, on his.

"Sleep well?" she asked him as her blonde hair fell around their faces. He looked at her grey eyes and smiled.

He nodded his head as he sat up in bed and stretched. "Yes, thank you," he said, and then simply put his head on her shoulder. "I wish every day could be like this. Every moment. I mean what if our whole lives were like this Annabeth?" he asked, fantasizing. "You go to sleep next to the person you love, and you wake up next to her as well, with good morning kisses and her eyes the first thing you see. That's a good life."

She landed a soft kiss on his temple, which was the only thing she could catch from the way his head was on her shoulder. "I love you," she said. "But it will do neither of us good if we fantasize about these things. Tomorrow is a big day, and truly…I'm afraid."

"Don't be," he was quick to say, and he wanted to tell her that they wouldn't need to kill each other, that they could both get out of there. All they needed to do was last a couple of days. "It's gonna be okay. Do you trust me?"

She smiled. He didn't see her, but he felt it. "Yes."

"Then trust me when I say that, as long as we're together, we're gonna be fine," he told her, his hand finding her and clasping it softly. "And I love you."

-.-

He watched the beginning of the show from the backstages. Getting ready. This year, his suit was sleeveless, and there were buttons, but only to halfway up his chest, the rest was out there. The suit was dark and shiny, as were the pants he wore with classy shiny black shoes. His hair wasn't styled this time, and instead left out to be the untamable mess it was, but, when he asked Dorian to trim it a bit, it did make him look more in control of who he was and what he stood for.

Soon they'd all know it was for freedom.

The crowd was cheering like crazy when Caesar Flickerman got on stage. "Thank you, thank you, thank you," he was saying to the vast audience in front of him, but also to the one at home, watching on the screen. "Good evening and tonight! On the eve of the seventy-fifth Hunger Games!" The crowd cheered louder. "On the eve of the 75th Hunger Games. We've never seen anything like this and we will never see anything like it again. Because tonight on this day 24 of Panem's brightest stars will buy for the ultimate crown." The crowd cheered more. Then Caesar quieted down. "Tonight will be their final opportunity to express their thoughts... Our final opportunity to express our love... Heartbreakingly. To say goodbye to all but one." He paused. "What a night. Let's hear it!"

Gloss and Cashmere went up there together. "You became everyone's brother and sister," Caesar was saying to them. "I don't know how we are going to let you go."

"We're not going by choice," Gloss was quick to say, leaning over the microphone and looking in the camera as intensely as he could. Gloss had almost as many admirers as Finnick did, almost as many as he did. If there was someone who had a chance to do something about these games, it was them. They could get to the people of the Capitol like no other tribute could. "You are our family. And I don't see how anyone can love us better."

He'd heard it going around. Be angry at the Capitol, try to stop the games before they kill us all. Every Victor was angry and for good reason. They were all going to try to say something to stop the games. Even those that knew of the plan. Better to never need to go in there in the first place.

"Such so sweet," Caesar said, not looking one least bit concerned about what he was saying, what he was insinuating. Then he caught sight of Cashmere crying. "Are you alright dear?"

"I'm sorry," she said as she sniffed, just at the same time that Caesar told her it was alright. "I just can't stop crying." Perhaps he could cry as well, would it give some effect to it all he wondered, or would it simply make him look like an absolute idiot. No, he decided, he'd try the normal approach, which was what Gloss had been doing. Just, 'hey, you say you love me, then get me out of this fucking mess'. A tactic he was liking, and perhaps could work with him.

He made his way to the backstage of the podium, where he saw, other tributes were there already. He saw Finnick, and he smiled at him as he approached him as he watched the screen. "Beetee," Caesar said, and he could hear it from the speakers. "You have contributed so much to Panem over the years. I don't know who we will miss more. You or your brain?" The loud cheering of the crowd was heard through the closed doors.

Finnick leaned in. "That's supposed to be a compliment by the way," he said, a smile on his face like it always was.

He kept his eyes on the screen as Beetee said, "The Quarter Quell was written in law by man, certainly it can be…unwritten?"

"Yes," Caesar sounded uncertain. "Interesting concept."

The rest of the talk was a bunch of gibberish, but eventually Finnick was also called up, and it might have broken his heart to go up there. It certainly wasn't easy to watch him as he looked the camera with hard intensity and recited a poem to the one true love of his, Annie. There was other talk of course, but he barely heard what they were talking about because then Annabeth walked through, since she was after him, and his attention was grabbed immediately. She was dressed in formal pants, and a shirt with a long coat over it all. All in dark shades.

Genevieve was called on stage, and he watched her go wordlessly. Annabeth caught on to that for the first time in the week. "What happened between you two?" she inquired. "I mean I never really saw you together before, but I'd at least think you'd tell her good luck."

He tried not to cringe. "We're not on speaking terms," he told her. "I told her, all about me, about us, and the day after, on the train on our way here, she decided that she couldn't deal with it. So, we've not been speaking and well, she's happy to go in there with zero training, and honestly, there is nothing I can do about that. Nothing at all."

"Percy!" she reprimanded him as she punched him slightly. "She was your mentor in your games, and then your partner in the others. You can't just leave her like that."

"I thought you didn't want allies Annabeth," he said to her. "Plus, I think she has it figured out."

"Really?" she asked him.

He nodded, thinking about the rebellion. Fuck the fact he couldn't tell her about it. He wanted to so badly. He probably would look a bit better in her eyes if he did. Stop looking like such a douchebag who didn't care about anything or anyone. "Look, can we talk about this later?" he asked her. "Like we can sleep together eh, no sex, please, but we can, stay together you know. We can talk about tomorrow and all. But like, later. Right now…right now I think we both need to focus on this.

He was right. "Percy Jackson, district five," a man called from the doors, and he looked at Annabeth.

"Okay," she said, as she kissed him on the lips.

Then he was walking and the doors were opening up in front of him and the crowd was cheering so loud he felt like he was deaf. Like when he had lost his hearing in the arena three years before. He raised his hand and waved at them all. A big smile plastered on his face as he did so. He joined Caesar in at the front of the podium and shook his hand, smiling big for the man himself.

"On the eve of the seventy-third hunger games, you sat here, in front of me, and when I asked you whether you thought you could win the games, you told me 'totally', is it the same this time?" Caesar asked him in a serious tone he knew could turn to one of his laughs in moments.

"Well," he said, clasping his hands behind his back and swaying slightly on his feet. From hills to toes. "I don't know man. Everyone here tonight won the games for some reason right. I mean, we're all the same here. Three years ago I was facing teenagers, now it ranges from adults to well, still teenagers. I guess we'll just have to wait and see."

Caesar thinned his lips, almost like in approval. "Now tell me," he said. "You got a twelve last time in the individual assessment. Are you upset or confused or well, anything, that this year you got an eleven?"

He grimaced, just for the effect. "Well I can't say," he said. "Again, last time looking at me, and looking at the competition, I was definitely up there. This year on the other hand…everyone that's going in there tomorrow is going in there for a reason. And it's not because we're decent people."

Caesar laughed loudly, and the whole audience cheered like it seemed it was the only thing they could manage. He then waited for the crowd to stop cheering before resuming talking. "Now, the first time we talked, you talked about an Anna, then it became an Annabeth and we haven't heard about this for a while. Not until…an Annabeth Chase talked about a Percy Jackson," the crowd cheered again, and he could do so much but simply smile at them, even recognizing some of the faces. "So tell us, how are things, between you and Annabeth, and what's going through your mind about tomorrow going in that arena together."

"Well, I guess I'm not the only one with this problem," he said as the crowd laughed. He waited for it to stop. "I heard as I'm sure you've also all heard, Peeta and Katniss from twelve are going in there together." He looked away from the crowd and looked at Caesar. "I thought they were the jewel of the Capitol. I don't understand how anyone's okay with sending both of them back in when they came out only last year."

Caesar laughed, but the audience wasn't fully with him as it usually was. "Interesting, but what about you, Percy, anything on the matter?"

"I'd say that if I had a say in it, Annabeth's the one walking out, not me, or anyone else," he told the cameras. He told the whole nation. "I mean, after all, love beats all am I right?"

The crowd cheered louder, and Caesar pulled his hand up to the air. "Percy Jackson, District Five!" he yelled into the microphone, and then he was walking up the stairs, on top where all the other tributes were waiting. He stood next to Mags, and then looked at Finnick, the older male nodded at him with a good smile. He'd done well.

He then watched as Caesar waited for the crowd to slow down, ease up before announcing the next Victor turned tribute. "Everyone, welcome Annabeth Chase! District Six!" he yelled as well, and the crowd was cheering still. They liked her, not because she was a Capitol favorite, but rather because her games had been interesting. A tribute who'd done nothing but cry in her interviews or any other time she was one camera, stepped into the arena, and proved to all of them that was more. That was really in reality, a killer to the core.

They both were.

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I don't know what this chapter is...I think it was just a filler to get it done.

Oh yes, DISCLAIMER I took the dialogue out of the movie 'Catching Fire'. Not the books, because I just found it easier to follow the timeline of the movie rather than the book.

It is what it is.

Hope you enjoyed it. Review and tell me! :)

Hunter