Song Suggestion: Jaymes Young-"One Last Time" (1st half) and Lorde- "Glory and Gore" (2nd half)

Free Fall

Prim fled, white skirt billowing around her, hearing the background noises of shouts and gasps. She could just imagine the way the crowd stood from their seats in surprise, everyone chattering and exclaiming at once. But she didn't want to see it.

How dare he!

Prim made it to the elevator without anyone running into her, and she was glad for it because she needed time to think and contemplate what just happened.

Why would he make such a claim? Obviously, they never had sex. She never saw Gale until right before the games. But it had to come from somewhere.

Cement a lie with the truth.

Did Brutus contrive it to produce sympathy from the capitol? Would it make her story almost too tragic?

Prim counted in her head. Three months. That's how long it's been since she had her last period. However, she was never very regular to begin with. Katniss used to be like clockwork, so consistent Prim knew which times of the month she'd feel under the weather. In contrast, Prim could go several months, and then have a light cycle and then several more months and then a severe cycle. So when she went a couple months past her time of the month, she didn't think much on it.

Until now. It didn't occur to her that she could get pregnant. In theory, yes. She and Cato had enough sex to make it possible, but somehow the reality didn't mesh with her mind. She imagined herself cradling a bundle of softness, bringing the tiny mouth to her breast to suckle. No, it was just too surreal.

Besides, weren't there other symptoms: morning sickness, breast tenderness, cramps? She treated them often enough back in district twelve for the maladies of pregnancy to become rote. She felt a little queasy now and then, as if a boat tossed her about, but anxiety always did that to her, and stress was more attainable than food lately.

She couldn't be.

She refused to believe it.

By the time Gale entered their apartment, her ire rose until it engulfed her. Gale raised his hands in defense seeing her expression.

"Just listen to me first before jumping at me."

Like Hell.

"How dare you spread more lies about me! How am I supposed to pull this one off? I'm not a good liar, Gale. They'll find out, and once the veil is lifted the sympathy ends. We'll be dead moments later. Have you thought about that?"

Gale scrunched his eyebrows together, as if he had trouble comprehending her, though all her words were at an elementary level.

"Brutus didn't tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

Something in her heart lurched. You don't want to hear this, it told her. She tried to tune it out like her instinct told her to, but Gale's eyes did not break from her, leaving her in a trace, staring at his lips.

"I didn't lie, Prim. What I said was true."

"No," Prim denied. The back of her knees hit the sofa, and it caused her to collapse against the cushions. She cradled her face in her hands. "No it isn't true."

"Look, Brutus gave me these before my interviews. I didn't know until then. I swear it. I swear I thought you knew."

He held out a crisp stack of papers in front of her face. She took them, as if poisoned.

The print did not lie. Her HCG levels were high. The capitol knew from the moment they took her blood work at the beginning of training. Everyone knew, it seemed, except her.

Did Cato?

She didn't let herself ponder that stray thought.

"Fuck, Prim," Gale said, and Prim realized she was crying. Not heavily, but errant tears streaked down her cheeks.

She set down the papers, not able to look at them anymore. She was prepared to die before this revelation. She was prepared to sacrifice herself for somebody else, and now everything changed in a blink.

It was just one more thing she felt the need to save.

"Why didn't he tell me?"

"Because I was trying to get them to give you the abortion pill before you knew," Brutus said from the doorway.

Prim's eyes snapped up in loathing. For the first time, she hated him.

"You'd do that to me?"

"I'd do it to keep you alive. They refused my request, so I used what could have been a distraction into an advantage."

Prim flinched at the coldness, at the brutality. For a while there, she had forgotten his history, forgotten which district he grew up in, forgotten that he murdered children to survive. What was a life of another child?

It wasn't so much the abortion itself. She'd see the necessity of it. It was the fact he was prepared to do it without her input, and that was unforgiveable.

"I don't care to speak to you again."

"Prim," Brutus said. It was not sympathy or an apology. It was a rebuke, as if he were scolding a naughty child.

"No, I'm done with your games. This entire time you've gone behind my back, surprised me at the last moment. If I never saw you again, I wouldn't consider it a loss."

It was a lie, but Prim turned and stomped to her rooms, slamming the door behind her, trying in vain to soothe the usually dormant beast inside her.

Anger was better than worry. Anger was better than pain. She held onto the fury, so that she did not think about the tiny heart thumping in her womb.

Several Hours Later

She awoke to the sound of the tapping of glass. She knew who it was before she sat up, before she threw her legs over her bed, before she walked to the curtains. She flung the fabric aside to see Cato, standing there clenching his fists. His hair stood up in wild strands, going this was and that, as if he tugged on it. His eyes were rimmed red, and his neck bore the red blotches he got when upset or from exertion.

"We need to talk," his voice sandpaper.

Prim didn't care anymore. Whatever pretense of apathy she gave died the moment she knew she carried a life inside her, a life that was half him. Her fingers reached out and flipped open the lock. She backed up until she stood near the door. A quick exit, if she must. The glass door slid open.

"Cato, I—"

"Just fucking be quiet."

"I'm—"

"No," his eyes flashed with the moonlight. "There's no time left for evasion. We've run out."

He stood before her now. One hand reached up and touched her cheek. The fingertips trembled.

"Last chance. Say it right now and I'll leave you alone. Say you loathe me, can't stand me. Say you never want to see me again, and I'll climb back down to my room."

It would be her death, but she did not care. Not anymore.

"God, I fucking hate you," she said and he flinched. "I hate the way you make me feel. I hate the way you're under my skin. And I fucking hate it that I want you."

She lunged at him, closing the distance between their lips. It was easy, like breathing, like water.

He groaned and pushed her against the wall, his restraint gone. Hands went to her thighs, pushing her billowing wedding dress up her legs.

"I don't think I can go easy." He said covering her lips, her neck, her cleavage. He sounded pained, on the verge of aggression.

"Please don't. Not tonight."

That snapped him. He ripped the dress, the fabric stripped down the center, the silk fluttering delicately against the ground, as he lifted her up and flung her on the bed. But Prim did not wait for him to do the work. She scrambled furiously at her clothes and at his, matching his intensity. It surprised him, she could tell. Until they were skin to skin, she couldn't fill her lungs. He pushed into her, and she gasped with the sensation.

She missed this, missed the way he didn't treat her like glass. Out of everyone, he knew he could be rough with her and she would not break.

They fucked hard, twisting and turning into multiple positions, trying to get closer, to consume each other. She demanded more from him than usual, leaving trails of deep scratches and bite marks across his body. She poured her fury, her sorrow into action, until they both couldn't last any longer, shattering together.

One Hour Later

Silence invaded the room. They did not release each other. His head lay against her breasts as she played with his hair, skin sticking together in the sweaty summer night.

Words did not fit the moment. What was not said created complicated knots that conversation could not untangle.

Still, they tried.

"Cato, I need to—"

"Not right now," he placed his lips against her collarbone and went down. His breath tickled her skin, and she sucked in at the sensation. He brushed his lips right below her belly button.

Did he know? Prim didn't know how to tell him. She wasn't sure if it would be the right thing to do or not.

"Prim," Cato started, "I want—"

She placed a finger on his lips. It would be of no use. It was getting late, and they were running out of time.

"Let's just show each other."

He obliged. This time the pace was slow and sated, taking his time and prolonging the sensation, and upon release, they both gasped, a sound of pleasure but more of pain.

They both knew it was the last time. Tomorrow they'd be in the arena, and death would come for both of them. Snow would not let them live, not even if the Capitol loved them. Their strings were cut; there was nothing else left to pull to save them.

Early Morning

Prim woke to the sound of the glass sliding. Cato hovered in the doorframe, bare-chested. He left his shirt crumpled on her ground, as if to remind her that it wasn't a dream.

The sun peeked over the horizon behind his body- the first spectator to this horror show of a day. It framed him in glowing orange light.

"Promise me that in the arena you'll do what you need to do. Kill if you have to. Fuck your soul. The games will destroy it no matter what you do. It can't be saved. So don't bother trying. Be merciless. Get to me, and I promise to find a way out. I haven't figured it out just yet. But you can't die. I won't allow it."

"Cato," Prim began gently. She raised herself on the bed, unashamed of her nakedness. She had nothing left to hide from him. "We can't survive together. You must realize that. If I find you, then you'd have to kill me. You must do everything to live, if not for me then for Coral."

He shook his head.

"Then stay away from me. Whatever you do, don't let me find you. Because I can't let you go. I don't trust you to survive without me, and I promise that I'll drain the other tributes of blood, even the children, before a single hair on your head is harmed."

He did not stop this time and shut the door, leaving the morning chill to settle into the room until she shivered and wrapped herself up in the sheets, staring at the blossoming sun, knowing it called her to her doom.

One hour Later

Brutus did not need to wake her up this morning. When he barreled into the room with a grunt she was already in her clothes, washed and ready to go. Despite the lack of sleep, energy buzzed across her body, bouncing along her atoms.

"Are you ready?"

There was no mention of the fight yesterday, as if it didn't matter now that the anger dissipated.

"Just one more thing."

She went to the bathroom and shut the door. Her stomach tumbled, and she took a few deep breaths to calm it.

Prim unfolded her hand to reveal a small piece of paper, crumpled in her palm. Another note. She had found it this morning lying haphazardly on the ground, likely pushed there with the frantic movements in the night.

She smoothed it out on the quartz countertop.

Fear is your enemy and your greatest weapon. The steel is the key to crumble the sky.

Nonsense. Absolute nonsense. Still, she took a moment to memorize it again. Going over the words until it became rote. By this point, she was fairly certain the source was the mysterious group, the Circle—the terrorist group in District 2. She was also fairly certain that the head Gamemaker was a part of it.

What she wasn't certain of is what they wanted with her. No matter which way she turned it over in her mind, she ended up confused. She was the weakest competitor in many ways. What use could she have to a terrorist organization? Cato would make sense, even Gale. But Primrose Everdeen? The sister that had to be saved?

She shook her head and threw it in the toilet. The pen bleed from the paper on contact as she flushed and it swirled downwards.

Before she exited the bathroom, she patted her shirt, feeling the necklace that Katla gave her. The same necklace the head Gamemaker flashed her with a smile.

30 Minutes Later

The plane sat on the tarmac ready to be boarded. Gale marched on with the other tributes, glancing back at her once. Cato waited for her, crossing his arms and glaring at Brutus.

"If something happens to me—"

Brutus tugged on Prim's arm, flinging her around to face him.

"Don't talk as if you've already given up, little girl," he squinted against the sun down at her, "You're going to survive because you have wits and a purpose."

The baby. He was talking about the baby, and there was no way to argue with him because he was right. She'd do whatever possible to keep it alive. She wondered a moment if this was part of his strategy, telling her at the last moment possible, so she'd feel this fierce tug of protection. A momma bear's instinct to rip the arms off any person or thing that would do it harm.

"And because you told me so."

"Exactly."

He gave a severe upwards tug of his lip, not sure if it was a smirk or a growl and drew her into a quick, hard hug, cracking her spine with the intensity.

After, he let her go, dropping her feet back on the ground. He did not say goodbye, and she did not expect him to. She watched his massive back retreat back into the capitol.

"Come on, little bird," Cato called out, breaking her trance, "You'll be late to the blood bath at the pace your setting."

She turned and walked towards him.

Gone was his tremors. Gone was his fears. The man he had been with her last night had died in the morning and been reborn into what he had been trained for—a God of war.

She walked onto the plane. There were two seats left. She took the one next to Gale.

"It's a shame a jewel must sit next to trash," Cato sneered at Gale before taking his place on the other side of her.

Gale sneered back, but did not retaliate. Instead he got her attention. He placed a hand over her fingers, stopping the tremors she didn't realize she had.

"I've got a plan, Prim," he whispered into her ear.

"What do you mean?"

"There's no time to explain. Just stick by me and I promise to get us both out."

Prim looked at him sideways, trying to determine if his sanity broke. It was impossible what he was suggesting… that they both could survive. That type of hope would destroy her, if she allowed it into her heart.

She glanced around to see if the other tributes in the place heard, but no one else was paying attention. Jace leered at his district mate, licking his lips. The poor girl was trying desperately to lean away from him, the rose tattoo on her face coming alive as she grimaced. Theodora caught her eye and gave her a nod. The lines in her forehead drew together as she looked at Cato. She glanced away and refused to look again. The old man of district 9 leaned his head back with his eyes closed. He looked asleep, but she had a feeling he was more aware of what was going on around him than she was giving him credit.

An attendant came over, interrupting her examination of her competitors, and placed the tracker in her arm. She flinched at the sudden pain, but held onto the feeling as if it would anchor her to the moment that was starting to feel more surreal by the second.

A breath of a sob came up to her throat, but she pushed it back down.

As if sensing her distress, Cato's hand reached out and engulfed her own, tangling the fingers. Prim clung to the warmth he gave, as if it was her only source of air.

They stayed that way until they landed.

One Hour Later

Cinna grasped her shoulders. She trembled. She could not stop it if she tried. Nerves took over her vital functions.

"You must remember what you possess. It is not weak. It is more powerful than you give it credit."

"I doubt it, but I appreciate your attempt to calm me."

"How else were you able to fell a lion, Primrose?" Cinna said, "It did not come easy. There's something in your soul that people either want to destroy or protect. But you can't rely on others. You must start to protect it yourself. You cannot allow it to be stolen or crushed. Fight, little Primrose, fight like your sister did. And between the fight and your spark, you may just survive."

"But how can I fight like she did when I can barely remember her?"

It was the first time she ever said such a thing out loud. Time heals wounds by making you forget them. There are snippets left, which Prim held close to her heart, but most of it is buried with her sister.

Cinna's eyes did not twinkle anymore. He reached into a pocket on his vest and extracted a small gleaming, golden object. It was a brooch, shaped like a bird with an arrow clutched in its beak.

"Maybe this can help."

Prim gasped and reached one finger out to touch the thing that felt like a memory.

The mockingjay pin.

"How…"

Prim couldn't formulate a sentence. A bubble of emotion welled up in her throat and stayed there, about to burst.

"I requested it after the games. It has been many years, but her courage in the face of adversity still gives me strength. It is fitting that I should now give it to you."

He reached down and pinned it on her tribute uniform.

A loudspeaker came on announcing it was time to start. Prim lunged at Cinna, hugging him hard.

"Thank you," she whispered before entering a small tube and letting it carry her up.

Infinite Seconds

The brilliant sun shone above her. Lazy clouds floated in the sky, transforming into acrobatic shapes. Birds twittered, and a gentle wind hit her face.

The initial peace did not deceive her. The glass tube brought her up until she reached the height of the other tributes. Glass disappeared, leaving Prim to glance down into nothingness. The same lazy clouds now meandered below her.

She hovered in empty space with only a small circle below her feet. Bile rose in her throat and a primal terror took over her body, automating it. It took everything she had to stay upright and not allow her breakfast to paint the clouds.

Under her terror, Snow's voice teased her memory, one from a night filled with terror and dancing.

"Tell me what you fear."

Was it okay to say him?

"Heights," Prim answered, "I always have nightmares I am free-falling."

Snow smiled and she noticed that his teeth were very white and almost pointed like a carnivore.

"Interesting," the word rolled off his tongue. She instantly regretted telling the truth, though she suspected he had ways to tell if she lied. And he hated liars. "You can't understand a person until you know their fears."

"Fucking bastard," Prim whispered.