And we are finally at the JD chapters! Hope you enjoy and let me know what you think :)


Dear Diary

Good news! I am no longer with the Careers, counting down the days until they decide I am no longer useful. Bad news, I am now with a psychopath who has made it very clear that I will die painfully the moment I don't do what he says. On the bright side, if I die I'll never have to face the consequences of my poor life decisions and my ever growing body count…

Veronica stares up at the sky, watching the clouds roll by. Around her, she can hear JD bustling about, but she ignores him, content to fake sleep for a little longer and think about how awful her reality is rather than facing it. She doesn't have her diary in the arena, of course, it's still sitting beside her bed in District 8, filled with plans she'll never undertake with friends she'll never see, but imagining how she would recount this shit-show is somehow comforting.

At least, she thinks, JD doesn't seem to have a desperation to get up and go hunting the way the Careers did every morning. That's not to say they can stay like this forever. The Careers are doubtless still out baying for blood and she's sure Heather and Heather will want to kill her the moment they catch up with her, and Kurt and Ram… well they'll probably want to fuck her before they kill her.

The unfortunate truth sinks in. She may have ended with him against her will, but she's going to have to co-operate with her captor to survive her new reality, however bleak her chances of survival are today compared to yesterday. Then again, maybe he's right, it's not like the Careers wouldn't have killed her sometime soon anyway. At least JD looks easier to overpower than the five tributes with bodies of pure muscle.

In any case, she needs to do everything to seem like she is playing this situation to her advantage. She is sure that, after yesterday, the cameras are on her and she refuses to be seen as a victim by anyone.

Groaning, she forces herself to push off her blankets and walk over to where JD is sitting, eating some of the berries he collected yesterday.

"No eggs and bacon for breakfast today I'm guessing." She says.

He looks up, smiles at her almost genuinely as she sits down beside him, "Nope, we're out of Capitol grub, except whatever stocks you have left. Anyway, it would be unwise to start a fire in the morning." He hands her a chestnut brown mushroom from his pile, "Here, try this."

His hand brushes hers as she takes it off him and she hates how somehow there are still butterflies mingling with the fear in her stomach.

She eyes it dubiously, turning it over in her hand, its underside is spongy yellow, she pokes it experimentally and it slowly turns blue. She doesn't remember seeing anything like this in the edible food section in the Training Centre.

"How do you know it's safe? Have you eaten them in 12?"

"No, I read about them, it's fine."

She looks at him, unconvinced.

"I knew I was going to volunteer. I did my research."

It's a fair point and makes her wonder how the fuck the Careers weren't trained with the same knowledge. Did their certainty that they were never going to go hungry really outweigh these basic survival techniques? Then again, she's always known she could be reaped and she's not sure she's even opened a book on plants or fungi.

She figures he's had plenty of other chances to poison her, so closes her eyes and takes a bite. The flavour is strong, slimy and slightly mulchy but not unpleasant, especially to her empty stomach. She breaks off a hunk of bread to go with it and throws him over a second chunk as thanks.

"There's lots more of them and other roots and berries around the arena and, from the looks of the nets you were making in training, we could easily catch some fish. Food isn't a worry."

Pushing down the part of her that's pleased he remembered, she tries to recall what happened to the net she made the first morning. Did she put it in her bag after joining the Heathers? No, no she'd lost it by then, she'd dropped it when she'd run from Brad and David. She picks up some branches and vines nearby and starts making a new one, desperate for something to do with her hands so she has an excuse not to look at him as he treks around, packing up the camp.

There's a cannon shot in the distance.

They both freeze for a second, "Guess the Careers are back in action."

"I'm not surprised," she says, "it was never going to hamper them for long, they didn't even like Heather much, David and Brad turned on her days ago." She thinks about suggesting they get on the move, but figures they're probably as safe here as anywhere else in the arena.

In an instant she has all his attention, he sits, cross-legged, across from her, "Tell me about your time there, what did you learn about them?"

She determinedly looks down at her net, avoiding his intense gaze, "They're Careers, they like killing people, you and they would probably get along."

"No, I need more than that. I want details, I want to understand."

She avoids the question again, "Why do you care?"

"It's how you win, Veronica. You have to know them if you want to beat them."

She looks up at him, doubtfully.

"Take Heather Chandler, for example, so sure she was the strongest and desperate to prove it to everyone else. Of course she was going to kill Martha, of course she was going to loot her bag and see the water bottle, it was a big one, a full one, a nice one. She'd won it herself, with her own strength and she was going to take the reward, she never even considered it would be trapped. Yet now she is dead and I never had to lay a hand on her."

He moves closer to her, muttering in her ear, the chill it creates sends goosebumps up her spine, "You have to understand them, learn what they want, learn what they fear, learn what motivates them, say the right words and you won't have to kill them. They'll do it themselves."

As much as she hates it, he's right, well, in principle at least, she's not sure every death will go as smoothly as the one he just described (and she's still wary of his sacrificing of allies becoming a habit), but it's not a bad tactic for someone like him.

Someone like them?

She continues focusing on weaving her net as they speak. It feels weird telling this to him, someone who will use the information to kill them, because what she discovered from three days with the Careers is that, beneath the murder and the arrogance, they weren't that different to her, not really. It feels like a betrayal of kinds, which is weird because she knows that they would sell her out without a second thought. They're not your friends, she reminds herself, they were never like Betty.

Though, of course, she betrayed Betty too.

"They're all strong, but you know that. They hunt in the day, starting as early as possible, they do it in groups, normally all the girls or all the boys, while the other group guards the supplies at the campsite. Kurt and Ram are fantastic with spears, can take out flying animals with one shot, so they'd probably barely have to look to attack someone on the ground. Dumb as two bricks though, they're the two most stupid, horny idiots I've ever met, and I spent a week with Brad."

She considers, "I do know quite a lot about Brad. He was a couple of years above me at school, he was strong, Captain of our school's football team, but not particularly bright. He liked having girls pay attention to him, winning trophies and getting praised. He always made such a thing about how proud he was to represent our school in the pathetic little league they competed in. Pauline ate it all up though, she's convinced he's going to be victor, I bet she's the reason I haven't got any sponsor gifts yet. She's probably wrong anyway, he's on his own now and, while he's strong and can weave a nice net, he certainly can't use weapons half as well as any of the Careers."

"And Heather and Heather?"

Veronica gulps, "Heather McNamara is strong and really good with close combat but has the shortest attention span, she's the first to get bored and complain when hunting and the first to scream when something goes wrong."

"The weakest link?"

"No, not really, Heather Duke got the lower training score. Heather Chandler used to pick on her for it a lot." She pauses, thinking, "but maybe she sensed there was more to Heather Duke, there was something under the surface with her, maybe she knew she was a threat and that's why she spent so much time putting her down. Heather Duke was clearly the cleverest of them all, for a start she was the only one actually paying attention to the Games and their competitors."

He nods, "And she no longer has Heather Chandler as a leader."

"She doesn't like blood though, throws up at the sight of it. Which can't be a particularly good thing when it comes to winning the Games."

He's quiet as he absorbs all of this new information. She nearly asks what he's thinking, but she decides that knowing would only make her feel more awful.

"Some of this is probably just useless politics."

"No, it's good, it's a lot more than we knew before, anything else you can think of?"

They were kind to me. Veronica doesn't say, both Heathers were not cruel to me at all. But then again they made mincemeat out of Martha without a second thought, so kind is probably not something she could describe them as anyway. She digs her nails into the palm of her hand and pushes the thought away.

"No. Not for the moment. I'll see if I can think of anything else."

If he suspects she's not being completely honest, he doesn't let on, and thankfully leaves her to complete her weaving in silence.

xxx

They share the rest of the bread and tuna for lunch, with a banana each and some of his berries for dessert. It's substantial enough, but she can't help thinking that if she were still with the Careers there would have been a lot more on offer.

"Do you think we should move?" she asks, "We've been here all day."

"We should get some food later, but otherwise, I think we're ok here for the moment."

"The Careers will still be searching for us, unless you have some long distance fast acting poison, I don't like our chances if they attack."

"I didn't say we were safe. We just have as much chance of them finding us here as anywhere else. They're so loud we'll get a head start anyway. I hope you can run fast."

Oh yeah, you have a great track record of helping your allies run away from the Careers.

"This would be a lot easier if you hadn't forced me to run from them in the first place."

He puts his hands in the air, frustrated, "We've been over this Veronica, how long do you really think they were going to put up with you being their little servant? I needed to get you out of there as soon as possible, you barely seemed to notice the Careers were dangerous, killing Heather Chandler was the perfect opportunity. You're welcome, by the way."

She makes sure it doesn't show on her face when she thinks about Kurt and Ram, about Heather Chandler's threat that night, "I was doing fine. I had everything under control until you ruined it all. I didn't want you to kill Heather, I didn't want to be with you."

There's a flicker of annoyance in his expression and she relishes having broken his impassivity, he moves towards her, face a hair's breadth away from hers, his voice a dangerous snarl, "I think Veronica, that you are glad Heather Chandler is dead. You know I did everyone in this arena a favour by offing her before she could kill anyone else. You just don't like to admit I'm right."

She feels goosebumps rush up her arms at his presence and she shifts back uncomfortably. Heather would have killed her. Heather let her live. Heather threatened her. Heather kept her safe. Heather killed mercilessly. Heather died suddenly. Heather died in front of her, horrifically, with fear in her eyes.

"I am not!"

"Are too!"

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

She's being childish, she knows she is. She's being childish in front of the whole of Panem, but somehow it's refreshing to just shout, to blame someone, to let her frustration out just a little. Between the volatile nature of Heather Chandler and the rest of the Careers and the fear that followed her meet up with JD, it's the only chance she's had in days.

He wets his lips.

"Am…" he kisses her then, both hands gripping her hair as he forces her mouth towards his. She thinks about pushing him off, but instead kisses him back, her arms snaking around his shoulders, pulling him in just as forcefully.

It's not like the last time, last time she felt like a teenager sneaking away from her parents, giving into her first experiences of the adult world with a bad boy who reeked of danger and excitement. This time she is no longer a child. He is a remorseless murderer and she is well on her way to joining him, they crash together because they are both broken and in their fury and lust is a desire that maybe together they will form a whole. That this, for just a moment, will make everything better. She hates him, she hates him with every beat of her blackened heart, but whatever cruel twist of fate that brought them together has entwined them.

There is a loud crunch of leaves and twigs as he pushes her to the ground, hands on each shoulder. Another kiss, rough, almost violent, his mouth and body moving over her in a way that would terrify her if she wasn't so desperate for it herself, addicted to the way it pushes all her memories, all her self loathing and fears to the back of her mind.

"They're drones, Veronica," he seethes, "Capitol drones, trained for obedience, happy to kill the weak if it means they can keep their comfortable existence. When the revolution comes, and make no mistake – as soon as the fuse is lit it will, they will fight on the side of their masters, they want to be in a world run by them."

Her stomach dips at the idea of revolution, the certainty he has that it will happen feels foreign to her. Her world has always consisted of a resigned acceptance of a hard but liveable existence. An image flashes beneath her eyelids, a vision of fire, the whole world an arena, and him, watching mercilessly from above, that wolfish smile painting his face. She shivers.

"I would want to be in a world run by you even less," she hisses, between forceful kisses, "better the devil you know." And she doesn't know him, she realises, even as her tongue sweeps the inside of his mouth, she has no idea how much he is capable of and she has a primal fear of every new fact she finds out.

He raises his eyebrows, his hands grabbing her wrists and pinning them to the ground so he can move even closer to her, his lips moving on her ear as he speaks, "good thing you will never live in a world run by me then, darling, though I question the idea that you don't want revenge on the world run by fear, that you live in now." She flinches a little at his traitorous words (the death threat is unpleasant but expected), still slightly fearful they'll be heard and struck down by this new act of rebellion.

"Let me tell you a fun fact, Veronica Sawyer," he continues, "there's a building in the Capitol with a purple dome for a roof, that's where they keep all their weapons. And that dome is stuffed, right to the top with hundreds of nuclear bombs, each one on their own more than enough to turn an entire district to ashes. And they will, the moment you dare to want more than they will let you have, they will kill you all without remorse. These are your enemies Veronica, the people so powerful that they could crush you and everyone you care about with a single bomb."

She can see absolutely no way that he would know this fact, weapons storage is hardly something the Capitol would advertise, especially to a moody teenage psychopath in District 12. Even so, the certainty in his tone makes it almost believable. It makes her feel small, insignificant, just a cog in his plan, just like she is a cog in the Capitol's system of oppression.

She could be so easily disposed of by both.

She is done with being weak.

As his hands snake down to go under her shirt, she rolls them over, relishing the fact that she is just as strong as him, straddles his hips and pulls her shirt and the sports bra underneath it off, flinging them both into the undergrowth before grabbing and ripping off his shirt too.

She watches his eyes, which had widened in surprise, darken with desire. He reaches for her, but she moves from his arms, out of range of his whispering mouth. Instead, she moves further down, pushing down her pants, taking her time and far more touching than is strictly necessary to remove his own. Until finally, when he is groaning and begging does she connect them.

She knows somewhere the Gamemakers are hastily turning off the cameras, maybe somewhere else there are raucous cheers in bars as the patrons realise what is going on, her parents are looking through their fingers, her classmates are staring open-mouthed at the girl they thought shy and unattractive. And JD, JD writhes beneath her, every movement, every groan he makes is because of her.

Just for this moment, she is in control of them all. The power is exhilarating.

When she orgasms she makes no attempt to silence it. She hopes the Gamemakers have heard it all.

Afterwards though, she feels as weak as ever.

She dresses quickly, not meeting his eyes, he's looking at her intently again and she can't tell if the glint in his eye is because he's impressed or angry.

"The net's finished," she says, "I should put it in the water."

xxx

She takes her sweet time at the river. She's carrying her knife, she's not an idiot, but it's nice here, it's peaceful and potentially so boring that the cameras won't be on her. She puts the net downstream as the trainer taught her to, and does her best to cover it, so it's not so obvious that their camp is nearby.

Then she sits. She sits and stares at the swirling water. Part of her wants to cry, but she can't pinpoint exactly why. Instead, she reaches into her pocket and gets out the handkerchief Cecelia gave her, looks at the skyline she'll never see again. If she squints at it she can pretend she's looking out her bedroom window, that the last few weeks have just been the cruellest of pre-reaping day nightmares.

Eventually, she pulls herself together and forces herself onto her feet. If it was just him waiting for her she might have spent all day there to spite him, but the Capitol are watching and she needs to prove that she can survive rather than just be controlled by whichever tribute she ends up meeting.

When she returns to the clearing he's cleaned up, ready to search for food. She joins him, trying her best to use the information she picked up in the Training Centre; where to locate the best mushrooms, how to distinguish poisonous fruit from safe ones, he adds his own selection of mushrooms, berries and roots that he knows are safe from God knows where. She keeps careful note of what is supplied by him and resolves to make sure he always takes a bite of whatever they are eating first.

By the end of the day, they have quite a selection of food, nothing like what she had access to yesterday morning, but enough to keep them sustained, especially if her net has managed to catch some fish. They return to the clearing to set up dinner.

The Panem Anthem plays as they are inspecting their haul and they look to the sky. Just one today, the boy from 6. Al. The one Betty liked.

"He had a girlfriend," she says, "he wanted to come home for her."

"She must have known he wouldn't make it."

She looks at him, "That's not really the point. She loved him, she would have hoped, even against the odds. Don't you have anyone who wants you back alive?"

"No."

The matter-of-fact tone of his voice silences her for a while.

"I wonder who did it," she says, eventually.

"I'll give you four guesses."

"It could be Brad, though he seems to be keeping his head down."

"It's one tribute down, in any case."

She nods silently. Their conversation is over.

xxx

It's a cloudy night so they decide to risk another fire. He leaves her to set it up, while he goes to refill their water and check the net for fish. She puts the roots and mushrooms on to boil in a small saucepan she got from his bag.

The wood is dry, so it takes no time until the fire is roaring and the pot bubbling.

JD is not back yet, so she grabs a blanket, places her knife beside her and lies down, watching the clouds roll over the moon.

It's been quiet today. Too quiet really. Doubtless some of it is because the Capitol are entertained enough by whatever JD is doing to her and… well… depending on how much got shown, starting to fuck on camera might have helped… Or maybe the Careers hunting Al was enough of a show. Of course, it could be because the other tributes are close by, or the Gamemakers are planning something to make sure they soon are...

As if the Gamemakers can read her thoughts there is an ear-splitting rumble of thunder. She scrabbles to her feet, trying to work out where it is coming from. She hasn't seen any lighting, so it might be a little far away, but the thunder was so loud…

There's a flash and a bolt of lightning misses her by a whisker, leaving a black burn in the centre of the blanket where she had just been sitting.

Fuck.

There's another crash of thunder and she instinctively dashes from where she was standing, but when the lightning comes, not five seconds later, it lands not there but near the lake. She freezes, unsure of what to do. Does she run or will she just risk hitting a dead end? Does she just do her best to dodge the bolts? And is it her, or is the arena heating up?

The smell of smoke assaults her nostrils first a little then, in almost no time, it is overwhelming.

JD comes tearing out of the forest. A wall of fire behind him, a wild look that she has not seen before etched on his face. He looks around until he sees her silhouette and his mouth forms into a grimace, he's back in control again, a semblance of a plan forming in his mind. He runs towards her, his hand is still wet from the river, but his grip is solid and determined as he grasps her hand.

There is no time to grab the bags, she casts her eyes around for her knife but then remembers it's still by the blanket. But she can't care, not now, not as a third rumble assaults her ears, and she barely has time to shout, "That isn't how lightning works!" Before he is pulling her through the forest, far away from the raging flames and the bolt that strikes moments later.

Rain starts pouring down in torrents, obscuring their vision, their feet slip and slide in the mud, branches scratching their arms and legs, his hand clasps hers tightly so they don't lose each other, thoughts of cunning plans or the supplies they left in the clearing are forgotten as they do their best to outrun their deaths.

The thunder continues, the lightning bolts coming ever sooner afterwards. Sometimes they set a tree alight, giving them even less of a chance to outrun the flames. She loses track of the time, all there is in the universe is her and him and the inferno which is getting ever closer.

Smoke stings her eyes until she has to squeeze them shut, but even this does not stop the tears pouring down her face. She clings onto his hand like a lifeline as they stumble through the undergrowth, her lungs attempting to find any oxygen in the scalding air that surrounds them. Her legs are aching, her head is spinning, she wants to give in, to lie down until it is all over. Still, his hand grips hers, tighter, tighter as she begins to fade, determinedly pulling as if he can see a passage through this nightmare.

After an eternity of hell, the woodlands start clearing, giving way to rocky terrain. It's only when he starts pulling her up to where the air is infinitesimally cooler that she realises that they must have hit the mountains.

They scrabble upwards, he lets go of her hand to get to higher ground, but he is always there to pull her up, higher, higher, until the fire cannot follow and, for one brief, beautiful, moment, there is something other than smoke and flames behind her eyelids.

The thunder roars and once more they have to move, he grasps her hand again. She squints, trying to see where he is leading her. In front of them is a cave, it is pitch black inside and the entrance looks unnervingly like a lion's mouth, complete with jagged rocks that look like knife-sharp teeth. She runs straight in. It's what she's been doing for days now anyway.

It is noticeably cooler as soon as they enter. She takes a breath of the air and immediately coughs it back up, but the breath after is everything. There's another boom in the sky, but, though it lights up the cave, the lightning can no longer get to them.

She's spluttering and retching but she is alive, she has survived. At last her hand slips from his iron grip as they collapse against each other, she buries her head in his shoulder, sobbing with relief. She loathes herself for letting him see it, but it's either him or the Capitol and she'd rather die than have them see her moment of weakness. He holds her tightly against him. They stay that way for a long time, clinging to each other, safe in the cave, with the rolling thunder and the pounding rain outside.

When she feels like she can face the cameras without looking like a crying wreck she untangles herself from him. In the hazy light from the fire below, his face, black with soot, is almost unrecognisable. It makes it even easier for her to look at him and not see the boy that just yesterday held a knife to her stomach.

She owes him her life. She's sure of it. Without him she would have given up long before she escaped the fire. She can tell herself all she wants that he tried to kill her the day before, but the simple truth is not one of the Careers would have had a second thought about leaving her to die.

Back in District 8, she might be able to get away with a thanks and a favour, but this is the Hunger Games and she doesn't want to be in anyone's debt, least of all his.

Her captor, her saviour, her enemy, her lover.

Her murderer.

She is grateful, she wants to slap him, she wants to laugh, she wants to cry. She wants Pauline to have picked any other name at the reaping, she wants to go home.

Mostly she's just furious.

Not at him, not completely anyway, maybe at herself, for being so feeble as to need his help, at fate for bringing her here, at Panem for watching at…

There's a shuffle near the back of the cave and, though her eyes cannot quite make out the figure in the dark, it is clear that they are not alone.

They turn, both instantly alert. She reaches for her knife until she remembers that they left without it, so she grabs his hand as it's the only other source of comfort.

The figure freezes, clearly not intending to get caught, and for a few moments they stare at each other, until the lightning comes again, illuminating the cave and his face.

It's Peter.

And suddenly her anger has a target.

She lets go of JD's hand and stalks towards him.

"You." She hisses.

As she approaches she can see his features more clearly in the firelight, and any trace of hope escapes from his face at her outburst.

"Veronica, it's ok, I won't harm you," he puts his hands up, showing he is unarmed.

Lightning strikes as she replies, "But you have harmed me though. You harmed Betty. You were her district partner, you were supposed to go with her. You agreed to go with her, she told me."

His back is already against the wall so he sidesteps to avoid her approach, as if he thinks he might be able to sneak out the entrance of the cave and find another shelter from the terrible storm.

"I tried Veronica, I did, but I was scared, ok? I didn't want to die."

Veronica laughs humourlessly, as she edges him ever closer to the edge of the cave.

"But you are going to die, Peter. Your number was up the moment you were reaped. You know it. I know it. A snivelling little coward like you was never going to win. But you could have made a difference, you could have made it mean something, but now you're just spending your final days being a performing monkey for the Capitol, just like they wanted."

Thunder rumbles, and it makes Peter's trembling body shake even more, he steps backwards, out of the doorway and onto the ragged rocks outside, apparently not noticing that he is being soaked in rain.

Good. She wants someone to be scared of her. She grins manically as she stalks towards him, he retreats several steps, along the ever dwindling ledge, to avoid her, "I'm right, aren't I?"

As a final hope, he looks at JD for support, but the boy stands impassive, if slightly amused.

"But you didn't follow her either." He bursts out suddenly.

Lightning strikes again, illuminating their surroundings for a moment, and whatever Peter sees in her face in that instant must be terrifying, for he stumbles backwards, inches from the edge of the cliff. Any remaining blood drains out of his face as he throws his arms out and regains his balance, missing death by an inch.

So she moves forward, places two hands on his shoulder and pushes.

This time there is no way to stop his fall, and the next rumble of thunder is too late to hide his scream. All she can do is watch as he disappears into the darkness.

When the bolt comes, it hits Peter square in the chest. Light fills the sky so she can see his silhouette clearly as the shock throws him into the air. But then the moment passes and all that is left of him is the thump of his body hitting the ground and the boom of a cannon.

The Capitol Presents: the Surviving Tributes, Day 5

District 1

Heather McNamara

Ram Sweeny

District 2

Heather Chandler

David Remington

District 3

Betty Finn

Peter Dawson

District 4

Heather Duke

Kurt Kelly

District 5

Shannon Lucas

Rodney Bulb

District 6

Cathy Stone

Al Springer

District 7

Tracy Hophead

Bobby Young

District 8

Veronica Sawyer

Brad Richards

District 9

Courtney Chadwick

Keith Harrington

District 10

Shelly Little

Dennis Grundy

District 11

Phyllis McCarthy

Dwight Archer

District 12

Martha Dunstock

Jason Dean

Deaths today: 2
Survivors: 9


It has come to my attention that next week's chapter coincides with a day where lots of people (including myself) might be busy. I have decided to upload anyway, because I figure what better Christmas present is there than sitting down after your Christmas dinner and reading about JD's tragic backstory?