A/N: New Chapter! A bit on the longer side.

As always, welcome constructive criticism(as long as it is delivered nicely)

Thank you for the follows and favs!

The chemicals were gone from the blisters, extracted by the saltwater. Still, they burrowed down to my bones. It no longer sears, there is no burning like I am on fire, or stiffness in my limbs. Now there is an itch, begging to be scratched. My skin is raw and red. Scabs have started forming, indicating that my skin is beginning to heal. But, never has it felt this bad. Not even two summers ago when I fell asleep at the small doc and was pink, head to toe, blister heavy, and flaking for weeks. I just want to peel back my skin, scratch at the muscle and bones. It is all I can think as we sit in silence.

Peeta still hasn't spoken. Silent from the morphling's death. She sacrificed her life for Peeta, and in turn, the rebellion. She isn't the first death, and won't be the last. He is still sitting there, unmoved except for scratching, digging his nails into the irritated skin. Subconsciously I imitate him; my hands coming up and digging into my shoulder. It provided instant relief. A short-lived relief.

"Don't scratch," Katniss was the first to break our silence. My hand fell from my shoulder. The dirt and sand that lies beneath them were now joined by blood. I had washed my hands in the water after the monkeys, so it had to have come from me.

Katniss continued, "You'll only bring infection". The bit of comfort from finally scratching disappeared. In its wake, guess what? More itchiness. The more time passed without scratching the more I am contemplating risking the infection. Logically, it is a bad idea. Especially here in the arena, where an infection could weaken and kill you. On the other hand… this itchiness is overtaking my mind and rational thinking. It is everywhere. My entire body is covered in the sensation, in the need. I refrain, I need to be in a state where I can protect the three of them. An infection would certainly impact that.

It was still night. After the mist, monkeys, and the morphling, time had been moving by. It should be morning. The sun should be rising soon, it had to be. So much has happened in the fleeting time I have been awake.

"Why don't you three get some rest?" said Katniss. "I'll watch for a while."

I am quick to counter, "No, Katniss, I'll keep watch". Both her and Finnick have taken turns. With Peeta almost dying with the force field, he needs more sleep than I do. I didn't have to fight much with keeping an eye open, no arguments we had, just agreement and a short thanks from Katniss.

Being on the beach was risky, we were in open sight, vulnerable to attacks. Still, we didn't have much energy to move, and it would be morning soon, so the likelihood of us camping here for long is slim. Finnick ended up moving to the water, a comfort from home. I was sitting in the shallow end. The waves were lapping at my knees. A calmness to them. Peeta finally moved over by Katniss who was already lying down in the sand. He was still sitting and staring out to the water. His fingers kept digging into the sand, grabbing a handful, and letting it slip through his fingers.

It didn't take long for Finnick and Katniss to fall into slumber. Peeta remained awake with seemingly empty eyes. Am I going to do it? Her copper eyes flash in my head. Blonde brows pinched, almond eyes crinkled in pain. Yeah, I will.

I stand up and head over to him. Plopping on the sand on the other side of him. Deep breath in, "Hey"

At that, his eyes shift, away from where the hovercraft picked up her body, and his head shifted to me. "Look, I am not the most touchy-feely person. I don't talk about emotions, and tend to keep things bottled up… but…"

Another deep breath in. Shakily continuing, "I know how you feel"

"Having someone die for you is a… hard thing to swallow. The concept of death and worthiness and guilt. And someone dying in your arms is a humbling experience. To see death that close, come to terms with your mortality, and see the life leave them. Their eyes emptied, the last breath leaving them. The warmth disappearing" I can't make eye contact with his questioning eyes. Lost in my memories of her. Fiddling with my hands, rolling my shoulders, just trying to distract myself enough to get through this.

"It is haunting". I can't put it into better words. But it seems like he understands what I am trying to say. "I am not going to lie and say you forget, because you can't forget about something like that. But- it does get easier. It takes a long time, but it gets easier" The nightmares don't disappear, but they lessen with time and help. It seems Katniss is his Finnick.

"You can feel everything and anything about it, but…. Don't get too hung up on it now. Not in the arena. Wait until you are outa here for that." I finally look up at him. His gaze is locked in with mine, a soft smile forming on my lips. He surprises me. He always does, but this time was truly unexpected. He hugs me. He is a kind person.

"Thank's Maria. I-" he ends up trailing off. I just nod and move back to my position in the shallows.

"Try to get some sleep Peeta, after all-you did die 12 hours ago"

I don't know when, but he did fall asleep curled up with Katniss.

Lacey.

Lacey Parmenter. District 8's female tribute. She came 7th in my games. Ally, friend, almost lover. My greatest what if…

I still see her kind eyes and warm smile. I hear her laugh, far deeper than expected out of the stick of a frame she had. Her hair alternates between the long length it had in training and the first few days of our alliance, and the last days we had together, short, choppy, and wild.

It is a coin flip over how she appears. On good days I am reminded of her smiling, laughing, and her negative dry humor. On the bad…

"It's ok. It'll be ok. We just have to move a few buildings over." My voice is far more panicked than I meant to convey. The Gamemakers have gotten bored and sent some mutts our way. They are moving slow, it's been a few hours, but they are slowly making their way over to our camp out. I peak up out the window, well it isn't a real window, it is more of a hole in the wall surrounded by wood. The structure we are currently in has three floors. We are on the top, getting a better vantage point for oncoming dangers. It isn't the tallest building in the area. This makeshift broken-down city occupied most of the arena. It was filled with urban run-down tenements, the tallest buildings in the center. Nothing green in sight, even the cornucopia was only surrounded by dirt. A whole lot of brown in this arena. Lacey is more comfortable in this arena than I am. She said it is a lot like her district.

"Maria, we both know I can't move. I am far too weak. My stomach is open. I can hardly move a few inches, let alone sit up. " She isn't as loud as she normally is. Conserving her energy. Her diaphragm is weakened too.

"That's ok. I will just go and handle them."

"It's dangerous, what if you get stung, huh? What will you do then? We will both be injured and then we both are doomed. We don't have Oli around anymore to watch our back. I am dead weight now. There is no way I heal from this. "

"Stop it. Don't say that. We just need sponsors. Once we get medicine it'll be fine." We should get something soon. The last parachute came 6 days ago, almost a week. We got an iron spade. We used it to dig into the ground. Lacey found a spot that had water in it. It took a while, but we got fresh water out of it eventually. Still… it wasn't that expensive of a gift, and her mentors have to have gotten more, we are some of the last tributes.

A thought she voiced, "There are only 7 of us left Maria. We are out of time. Out of luck" Not where I was going with the whole 7 tributes thing.

"No. We aren't. Give me a few minutes, I'll be back. I'll deal with the scorpion mutts and be back soon."

"Maria…" she called out to me as I assembled what weapons I had. I had one spear left out of the 3 I nicked during the bloodbath. I also armed myself with the dagger that used to be strapped to Oli's forearm. I left a blade for Lacey, just in case, grasped the bag we had, and headed out.

The stairs were old. The ones from the third to the second floor were stable enough. The ones leading to the ground floor were too old and too fragile to bear any weight. I dragged out the rope we got from a bag we found on the second day. Half of it was cut and tied up to anchor us and pulled up so no one could climb up. The other half is in hand, ready to use. Tossing it down was risky, no one could pull it back up, Lacey was immobile. I would have to go fast. I made my way two buildings over, where I know a den was located. A couple of knots and I formed a net, tight enough where they couldn't wriggle out of. Maybe I didn't need to kill all of them… They would come in handy to use against the remaining careers.

A toss over their den and they were all caught. I killed all but one. I ended up leaving the net over it and hiding it on the first floor of this building. The rest I carefully gathered up and tossed in the bag.

It wasn't long. I wasn't away for long. I know that much. Climbing the rope up was harder than I remembered it being. Of course, 3 days ago I was full of adrenaline, trying to get Lacey to safety after the run-in with Gemma. Ending in her death and Lacey's injury. I pulled up the rope again. She was coughing. Coughing very loudly. Struggling to get a breath in. I was racing up the stairs, shedding what I could on my way over to her.

Falling on my knees by her side, "Okay. Okay, I am going to lift you now. So you can breathe. It is going to hurt though, so be ready." There is blood on her lips, darkening the soft pink that they were. She lets out some grunts of pain as I lift her. She has panic in her eyes. Sitting up she was able to cough better, take in some air. It wasn't enough though. She just kept coughing and hacking. Blood spattering out of her mouth.

She was getting better I don't understand? She got a second wind today. She was talking and joking around. What happened? What happened in the few minutes I was gone? What changed?

She latched onto my arm. Gripping it tightly. She mumbled between coughs, I can't understand her though. Her fingers are sure to leave bruises later, but I let her clasp my arm, welcome the 10 fingerprint marks onto my skin.

"Look, just don't try to say anything now; just concentrate on breathing okay? You can talk later once you catch your breath".

She was shaking her head to that. Fighting through her coughs. I shifted, my left knee now bent and supporting her shaking upper half, on my knee on the other. My arm wrapping around her shoulder, the other snakes its way down to her stomach. In hopes of trying to check her injury.

Her skin is far too pale. More white than its normal ivory hue. I know she has lost a lot of blood the last 2 days, but I thought I had stopped it. I know it isn't infected, her bandages were always clean. I was sterile when I stitched her, so what happened? What did I do wrong? And where is the goddamn medicine she needs?

There are tears in her eyes, spilling over onto her cheeks. I don't know how to stop them. A dark river slipped out the corner of her mouth mixing with the salty path. I don't know how long she was coughing. How long she labored over taking a shaky breath. It felt like hours. There was panic filling her copper eyes. I think she knew. The stuttering of her voice, desperately trying to say something to me, that she couldn't quite do. Never to be spoken.

Eventually, it stopped. That hacking. It stopped. Not in the way I wanted. A canon.

Her chest stopped lifting. The panic left her eyes. The death grip on my arm loosened.

She was gone. Left full of pain and desperation. Slow but far faster than I thought.

She was still looking at me. Her eyes that is. Lacey wasn't there anymore.

I sat there. Holding onto her body until it was cold. Stroking her cheek, and her spiky hair. I took the time to say goodbye. The time we weren't afforded with Oli. A kiss to her brow and I finally go. There are tears down my cheeks. Choking sounds leave my throat as I gather up our things. My things now. 6 of us are left now. 4 Careers: Eros, Gemma's District 1 partner; Terra and Evander from 2; and me. Hyde from 10, and Isacc from 5.

I don't know if the Careers have split yet, if they haven't they definitely will be gunning for each other now. If not, they are coming for me. I have to keep moving. I can't stay with her here any longer. I can't be crying. I need to stop shaking, get a grip and get steady. Firm and strong.

I'll mourn her later. For now, I'll hold on to her with the 10 fingerprint marks on my arm.

I wish I had my rope. It was frayed from the endless knotting and untying it weathered, but I wish I had it in hand. To control these thoughts from roaming my head. I keep watch. Feet sink into the sand as waves softly crash into my knees. My arm holds memories of her fingertips. I end up weaving a couple of bowls from the tall grass again. I don't go to get more water, not risking the treeline without some backup, and not wanting to leave camp unguarded. I'll wait until someone wakes.

There was the beginning of sunrise. The moon slipping beneath the earth and the warmth of the sun rising. Yellows and oranges fill the horizon overtaking the violet sky. The sun eventually peaks over the trees and Finnick wakes. We made good use out of that time, we had half the day to work until one of them woke.

Finnick and I have made another hut, giving shade from the white-hot sun. It was a bit different from the last one, we kept the front more open. It was calming to weave, a sort of peacefulness to the repetitive task was welcomed after a night of racing thoughts, similar to the bit of rope Finnick taught me to carry. I had slipped the spile from her belt earlier and filled the two bowls I had made with water. Finnick stayed at camp and made another bowl. By the time I got back he was already in the water, trident in hand. His green gaze concentrated on the life swimming below. I waded into the water, 12 yards from him to get my own sealife, half of my broken spear in hand. It was harder to catch them with limited reach, so in comparison to Finnick, I didn't catch as much, something he eagerly pointed out. Soon catching some food was derailed by us getting into a water war. Splashing around and diving at each other. We already had a bowl full, so it wasn't an issue.

Finnick eventually surrendered to me. All his talk about being a better waterman was halted by his defeat. We waded back to shore, wet and wrinkly.

Covered in scabs, hair dripping wet, he still said "You know Maria… Despite all this-" gesturing to me, "-you are still the most beautiful person I have ever seen" And if Finnick Odair could tell me that, straight-faced, truthfully, honestly thinking I was, he was in love. Looking at his scabbed-up face, he wasn't any uglier to me. He was Finnick. And I was Mo.

He got a smile for that, "Well, Finnick. I do believe I have you whipped… but that's okay I guess because even looking like that you still got me under a spell"

He shrugged an arm over my shoulder, like normal, "Guess we're both a couple of whipped fools"

Katniss is the first to wake from the pair of star-crossed lovers.

Finnick sits on the sand next to me, cracking them open with a stone. "They're better fresh," he says, ripping a chunk of flesh from a shell and popping it into his mouth.

While we were fishing she must have been scratching up a storm. Her fingernails are caked with blood. Finnick, being petty was sure to point it out, despite that he woke up the same, "You know, if you scratch you'll bring on infection,"

I think she has gotten used to him because she just dryly shoots back, "That's what I've heard,". She goes to wash off her hands. She starts yelling as she stomps back, "Hey, Haymitch, if you're not too drunk, we could use a little something for our skin!"

It is comical how fast a silver parachute floats down to her hand. It is a small circular tube. She just scowls, "About time"

She plops herself on the other side of Finnick and screws the lid off the tube. Looking over, inside holds a dark ointment, with a thick consistency. There is a wash of smell as the wind blows, it is fragrant, smelling of pine and a bit like tobacco or tar maybe?

She ends up spreading some onto her hand and rubbing it on her leg. It must feel good because a moan slips out of her mouth. When she is coating her second leg in the gray-green color Finnick gets a hold of the tube.

He doesn't start though. Instead, slipping out "It's like you're decomposing,"

Rolling my eyes, "If you don't want it, hand it over to me". It felt good enough to make Katniss moan. I want it.

He shoots a glare my way before the itching wins out because after a minute Finnick takes a glob of the stuff and starts to rub it in. Once he got enough I finally got a hand on the expensive ointment. The minute it met my skin the itchiness was gone. The sensation of the cold thick cream replaced the need to itch. After hours, it felt like heaven in a tube.

After all the teaing and poking Finnick gave Katniss, she finally returned the sentiment, Poor Finnick. Is this the first time in your life you haven't looked pretty?". He looked a bit like a sea creature. Grey, green, and textured from the scabbing.

"It must be. The sensation's completely new. How have you managed it all these years?"

"Just avoid mirrors. You'll forget about it," she says.

"Not if I keep looking at you." I can't help but laugh at their bantering. Of course, that draws both of their attention. No escaping out of this.

Finnick turns to me. A mock of outrage plastered on his face, "You know Katniss, you talk as if I am the only one who has ever looked this bad. Look at Moher! I bet it is her first time too".

"What did I do to deserve this cross-examination?"

"What did I do? If I am getting called out or looking pretty you definitely are"

Hilarious, as we all look like we are decomposing. We all look like we came out of one of my Ma's stories. Sea demons hovering around; sea salt green and blistering skin. The very things that crawl onto boats and drag down sailors.

We slather ourselves in the grey-green balm, taking turns massaging it in each other's backs. Taking great relief where the cold cream met our skin. For the most part, the teasing died down, settling us into a lull of silence, the only sound coming from a crack of shellfish and our chewing. We ended up finishing them before Peeta even woke up.

"I'll go get some more for when Peeta wakes up," I stood up and dusted some of the sand off. Finnick ended up passing his trident over to me, I left the shattered spear for him to use and waded back into the water. I wasn't in the saltwater for long, under an hour. A howl of laughter met my ears, a blend of colorful cheers and glee. It wasn't a faint one or a chuckle, it was the kind of laughter that worked your muscles and left you sore. It came in waves, peaking and falling to the point where I believed it to be done, but it would pick back up again.

By the time I have the bowl full, the laughter has passed. Peeta is awake now, him and Katniss slathering the tube of ointment on him. There is an empty parachute lying next to Finnick's feet. Plopping down onto the sand, Finick motions for me to pass him the bowl. He starts cleaning the meat from all of them.

"We got a gift?"

"Yeah, from Mags. Some bread from home,"

The bread has a green tint to it, a nice crust too. More importantly, it was a message.

While Peeta and Katniss finish up with the ointment, and Finnick is cleaning our meal, I fill the rest in on what happened last night on watch. Or rather, what didn't happen. "There was one canon last night". It's only been a day, and there are 11 dead, 13 left here in the arena. Of those 13 there are 5-6 of us who know about 13. Depending on the canon that Katniss heard when she was on watch. I hope Jo is fine. I haven't seen her since the Cornucopia- but at least that is good. Her face hadn't flashed last night. She and Blight should be fine with Beetee and Wiress.

Katniss and Peeta move over to us and we end up gathering around the food. The salty bread reminds me of home, especially paired with the oysters. It is past mid-morning, maybe 10sih now and the sun is nearing its peak. It has gotten hotter in the last few hours, and far more damp. I am grateful we ended up weaving a roof of sorts; the sun is blinding, and I am sure we would burn otherwise. This close to the shore there is a slight breeze, and it is cooler due to the sea. The jungle is far worse, and I know I speak for all of us, we prefer it here on the sand.

The jungle was a red herring. It provides coverage, the thick towering trees providing plenty of hiding places from other victors, and blocking from long-distance attacks. Seemingly far less dangerous than the open coast and sea. It wasn't. We discovered that last night. It hums and shimmers with untold dangers. A guttural bloodcurdling scream. The wedge of land across from us was vibrating- the earth violently shaking, causing a few trees to tip and crash into each other. A wave followed. One of the largest I have ever seen, up to par with deep sea storm waves. It towered over the arena, the high hills surrounding it. It rose over the hill, beating down trees and roaring down the slope. It struck the seawater with such power it reached us. The surf splashed up around our knees, despite being yards away from the previous tide, and being across from the wave.

A canon fires.

There is no way anyone can survive that, even someone from 4. The wave was far too powerful to do anything. It would knock you around and crash your body into a tree. Shortly after the canon, a hovercraft emerged, its claw reaching down near where the surge originated and plucked the body from a tree. That's 12 dead. Half of the victors dead in one day.

The circle of water gradually calms down having absorbed the massive wave. We end up rearranging our things, the hut was still stable, surprisingly. Katniss ends up pointing out three figures, about two spokes away, stumbling onto the beach. We end up fading back into the beginning of the jungle. Getting out of view of the newcomers.

They aren't in good shape; all of them have a solid brick-red stain. One is hauled out, barely walking by the second. The third wanders around them in loopy circles, as if dazed or deranged. Katniss notches an arrow, and Peeta ends up asking, "Who is that?"-Or what? Mutations?"

I don't think it's a mutt. It is far too humanoid for that. It has to be some victors, despite the coloring. The one who was being dragged ended up collapsing on the wet sand. The victor doing the dragging ends up stomping around and in a fit of rage, twists and pushes the third over. I can make out their face now.

"Jo!" I am running to her now. I can hear Finnick shout for her behind me, scuttling after me.

"Ria!-Finnick!"