No one likes being stood up on a first date, least of all outside in the dead of winter. It's not only embarrassing, it's a waste of my time that could be better spent doing more pleasant things. And more pleasant people. Yet here I am, literally twiddling my thumbs, waiting for a smug little asshole to come teach me something I already know how to do. Maybe my jokes about her sexuality and this being a date scared her off after all. I stamp around in the snow to stay warm and I glare up at the waning sun, but I don't go anywhere, because unfortunately my gut won't release the notion that Katniss is worth waiting for.

It must be at least a quarter after four by the time the archer comes jogging through the trees, a bow in her each of her hands. "Sorry, Ripper was especially chatty today," she says. She holds up one of the bows. "And I had to get this," she adds, handing it to me. I turn it over in my hands and give the string a few experimental pulls, examining the simple wood construction. This could prove to be a bit of a challenge after all. The bow is very well made for something of its kind, but I'm used to shooting less rudimentary ones that are strung a bit tighter and have arrow rests. I learned how to fashion and shoot a makeshift recurve bow in case we had another year like the one when spiked maces were the only Capitol-provided weapons, but it's not something I devoted much time to. "Be careful with that," Katniss warns me, interrupting my thoughts. "My father made it. I couldn't build a bow this good to save my life."

"Sure, you could," I dispute with a charming smile. "You always do what you need to to survive. That's just who you are." Katniss smiles in return, though it's a shy one. She blinks away and starts wordlessly heading into the forest within seconds. I fall in beside her and infer, "So it was your dad who taught you to hunt?"

"Yeah. How to shoot and track, and where to find edible plants."

"Your family's lucky you took to it," I say offhandedly. Katniss gives me an unreadable look and I realize that that intended compliment might not have come off as such. "I mean, not lucky, but…" I trail off when Katniss nods, seemingly unperturbed.

"It's okay, I know what you mean." She stares straight ahead and deadpans, "I tried to teach Prim, but she just wanted to nurse the wounded animals back to health."

I snicker but smile fondly. "She's a sweet kid."

"Yeah, but compassion is hardly a strength in a life-or-death situation," she rebuts soberly. "Imagine if she'd been 11 and I'd been 7 when he died, not the other way around."

"You'd have starved," I surmise.

"Or ended up in the community home, arguably worse." She sets her jaw and snorts. "The one thing our mother was useful for was keeping us out of there, by virtue of her being alive."

I blink in surprise. "She wasn't able to help out at all?"

"She tuned out completely, might as well have been dead," Katniss divulges blankly. "Except she was another mouth to feed." It's a struggle to keep my face neutral when she glances over to assess my reaction. I've never heard such unsentimental pragmatism from someone so young, and I was in the candidacy program, for fuck's sake. But yet, I can't blame her. She lost both parents and her childhood in that explosion.

"I understand why you resent her, now," I tell her sincerely. I shrug and nonchalantly venture, "At least she's working again."

"Yes, well, she's happier now that she feels like she's contributing again," Katniss remarks with only a slight sarcastic edge. She gives me a tight smile and adds, "And Prim's just happy to have her back."

I eye her cautiously and deduce, "And you're not?" I meant for that to merely sound curious and innocuous, but her face darkens.

"Save your judgments, Johanna," she snaps. She rolls her eyes and gazes out into the trees, pointedly away from me. When she speaks again, her tone is softer, more measured. "I am, but I try not to get too excited. She still has minor episodes sometimes, and I need to be ready for the day when she leaves us again."

"You are ready," I affirm. "You've got everything under control."

"That's not what I meant," she says impassively, blinking my way for only a split second. Then her strides grow longer and I have to run a few steps to catch up. We arrive at a small clearing only moments later, and Katniss gets right down to business with my archery lesson. She spends at least ten minutes talking me through the process of loading and shooting, breaking it down in great detail and demonstrating the form and movements as she goes. Being somewhat of an expert already, it might be painful if I didn't find it adorable. "Okay, you try," she says, pointing at my bow.

"All right," I respond with feigned uncertainty, hefting the bow and taking the arrow she offers me.

"Remember, hold the arrow between your first and second fingers," she instructs me. She looks on while I rest the arrow on the top finger of my bow hand and nock it. I'm just getting set to pull my string back when she throws out there, "You can use two or three fingers. It's a matter of preference." I have to choke back a laugh and just nod, not trusting my voice. Katniss proves herself to be even more innocent than I thought by furrowing her brow and keeping it that way even after several seconds of thought, but she doesn't press for an explanation.

"Okay, let me see you aim," she says. I take up some of the slack and sneak another look at my naïve instructor. I'm out here to have fun, right? I close my left eye and then shift my gaze from her to the target she marked on a tree about 20 yards away, and as I take aim, I purposely throw off my grip and posture slightly. Katniss immediately falls into my trap, raising a hand and saying, "Hold up." She circles around me, looking intently at my form. "Square your shoulders," she scolds me, straightening my torso from behind so my shoulders are perpendicular to the target. "I thought I beat you over the head with that one."

I grin to myself. I'm enjoying this far too much already. "Sorry, teacher," I singsong in a childlike voice. I look to my left and see Katniss glaring irritably. It only widens my smile.

"You totally are a youngest child, aren't you?" she grumbles. I stick my tongue out at her and she pushes against my cheek to turn my face back toward the target. "Pay attention," she chides. Turning her attention to my grip, she says, "Okay, you gotta…" She moves her fingers to my bow hand and picks at mine. "It's not about holding it tight in your fist," she explains, cocking my wrist back a touch. "You want the bow straining against the webbing between your thumb and forefinger. It gives you more leverage and control and it straightens your line of sight." She frowns at my posture again and adds, "Speaking of which, pull this shoulder forward, remember?" She places a hand on my left shoulder and waits until I obey her. "Good. Now you can see straight down your arm to your fingertip, right?"

"Right," I agree, biting my lip to hold in another smile. I almost draw blood when Katniss unexpectedly slides her hand down to rest between my shoulder blades.

"Remember, your power comes from your back," she reminds me.

"Okay."

Katniss drops her hand to my lower back and reaches around to place her other palm flat against my stomach. I swallow at the warm tension now burgeoning just under it. And admittedly a bit lower, too. I lick my suddenly dry lips and flit my eyes over to meet hers. They are darkened and intent, unyielding as I hold her gaze for several seconds. "And keep good tension in your core," she finally says before dropping her hands and retreating to stand behind me. "Now, shoot." I try to shake the focus back into my head. If I didn't doubt her confidence in all matters sexual, I'd say Katniss was just enjoying making me uncomfortable, turning my game around on me. I hone in on the target and release my arrow, which strikes it just on the edge. I frown, but Katniss calls from behind me, "Not a bad start!"

The younger girl keeps handing me arrows, but also takes plenty of shots of her own to demonstrate various points of feedback. And to show off, no doubt, because she generally picks more interesting targets than the tree. I improve markedly once I adjust to the laxity of the string and to shooting off my pointer finger. I typically line my arrows up on the right side of my bow, so I'm more used to shooting off the webbing of my thumb if I don't have arrow rests to work with. On the bright side, my initial struggles line up well with someone just learning to shoot, so I don't have to act much to keep up my guise of being a beginner. I botch a shot or fall out of form here or there for effect, but overall I just enjoy my improvement. I genuinely grin when Katniss announces, "Okay, you've got that part down. Now let's work on your draw." She shrugs her quiver off and preaches, "A quick draw can save your life."

I nod my approval rather than sassily inform her that if she really wants a quick draw, she should use a hip quiver and shoot from the right side of her bow, because that would reveal my expertise. But I hardly look or feel like an expert when I start mirroring the movements she's showing me. I've shot from my back before, but I always found it awkward. Now is no exception, what with a beautiful, intimidating girl judging my performance. After several frustrating minutes of practicing only the draw up to the point of nocking the arrow, Katniss gives me permission to draw and shoot. Finally. I get my first arrow off without much trouble and throw her a cheeky grin after it lands only inches from the bull's-eye. "How do you like that, Everdeen?"

"You're doing great for your first time," she says coolly.

I narrow my eyes at that backhanded compliment. "I've heard that one before, smartass," I quip while I reach back for a second arrow. I've just freed it from the quiver when it slips out of my fingers and falls to the dirt. "Shit." I bend down to pick it up, and my moment of mild embarrassment is suddenly accentuated by a mocking snort. I glare at the young poacher and catch her with a smug grin on her face, laughing at my expense. A surge of prideful indignation flushes my face and makes me move without thinking. I nock my arrow and settle it between my thumb and the bow as I straighten up, then shake the hair out of my face and zero in on a squirrel in a tree a good fifty yards away. I release the arrow with an angry grunt and watch with satisfaction as it skewers the creature through the neck. Not quite an eye shot, but enough to shut the little fucker up.

"Wow, that wasn't even clo…" The falling squirrel catches Katniss's eye and she turns to me with a stunned expression. That arrow took most of my blinding rage with it, and despite my proud smirk, I know that wasn't my wisest moment. I'm not usually so impulsive, but Katniss Everdeen really gets to me.

"We're allowed to fool around with weapons a bit in Two," I explain nonchalantly. "Career district and all. Lots of us learn at least one weapon really well in case we get reaped."

"Yeah," she sputters, "but I thought axes were your thing."

"I dabbled," I shrug. It's not a lie. I needed to be able to use whatever weapon I could get my hands on.

"Then why are we even out here?" she demands, only more confused.

I smirk and turn my palm up in a gesture of innocence. "You insisted."

Katniss continues to regard me with narrowed eyes, but doesn't press further. Now relieved of any need to act clueless, I end up in somewhat of a shooting contest with her. She's definitely more accurate, but I manage to impress her with my ability to fire multiple shots in rapid succession, at least. Twilight soon chases us back to the district, but we get in plenty of competitive banter and playful glares first. When we part ways at the tree, I throw her a provocative smile over my shoulder and call out, "Thanks! Let's do it again sometime."

And we do. Not every week, because Katniss really doesn't have the time, but often. By the fourth time we meet in the woods to shoot, it's late February. The air is crisp but not chilling and the residual slush is all but gone, allowing us to trek on solid dirt paths for the first time. Buoyed by this and the sun's height in the sky, we venture farther than usual, maybe half an hour's walk into the forest.

Katniss started bringing a second quiver for me once I made it clear on that first day that I can handle myself, so we shoot simultaneously now, racing to empty our quivers into a set of targets or mimicking each other's skillful shots. We're standing less than a foot apart, wiggling some arrows out of a tree we just shot up, when Katniss glances over her shoulder and suggests, "Ever thought of bringing your hatchets along?"

I still my hands and look her way inquisitively. "Why?"

"To show off, like you do." she shrugs. "I mean, they're good for target practice too, right?"

"Yeah, true," I muse. I rip the arrow from the soft bark and slip it into my quiver. "Maybe next time."

Katniss yanks one of her own arrows out of the target and then turns around to face me, chewing on the inside of her cheek. "You think you could teach me?" she ventures.

I bite my lip in thought as I mull this over. Arming district citizens would certainly get me executed or avoxed as a traitor, but teaching one kid to use a weapon she'd normally never get her hands is probably harmless. It's not like I'd let her run off with one of my throwing axes and stick it in Cray's back, as much as I'd enjoy that spectacle.

"I don't see why not," I answer, giving her a smile that she returns with ease, something I never would have expected when we commenced these semi-regular outings.

"Any other weapons you're good with?" she inquires. I shrug, not wanting to reveal too much. "Spears? Knives?"

"I'm okay with knives, but they were more my ex's thing," I reveal, purposely steering the subject to something I hope she'll find more interesting. "I played with them a bit because she was always throwing them. She could hit a bull's-eye from 35 yards." I snort contemptuously and tack on, "Or, you know, lodge it in your spine when you were least expecting it."

Katniss stares at me for several unnerving seconds before commenting, "You seem to really hate her."

I cross my arms and spout, "Yeah? So?"

There's a tinge of sympathy in her face and voice when she presses, "She broke your heart?"

"She broke my everything," I huff sourly. "It's her fault I'm here." Katniss lifts an intrigued eyebrow, and I instantly recognize my mistake. So much for changing the subject. Now I have to explain this, and I don't want to lie. I sigh and start my purposefully vague account with, "I was lined up for a cushy job in Two, one that pays really well, but it's one that very few people get to do. Like, it makes getting hired for Central Defense look easy." Katniss nods. This part of the story, she's sort of familiar with. "I'd spent a lot of time making connections with influential people, reading up on it and learning the skills. Clove, she was interested in the same line of work, and she said she would tell the authorities about some bad shit I'd done if I didn't withdraw my application. She wanted to thin out her competition, I guess." I realize too late that namedropping Clove was yet another mistake, especially now that Katniss knows her primary weapon. If Clove ends up being the DV out of Two, which is quite likely, Katniss will probably figure it out. She seems the type to remember the name of a crush's ex.

"She'd get you arrested over a career choice?" Katniss gapes. I shrug. "What a bitch. Did she even get the job?"

"I dunno." It's true enough. I don't know yet.

Katniss squints and picks at her lip. "What was it?"

"That's classified," I state immediately, my tone suddenly serious.

The hunter scoffs. "You say that about everything you don't want to talk about?"

"No, I mean it's actually classified," I insist. "It's not something people in other districts are supposed to know about. It's not even legal."

"So, what, you wanted to be an assassin?" she tries. "A spy?"

I snort. "Not exactly." The girl's curious expression does not abate, so I assert, "Look, point is, Clove's an asshole and a traitor. I have plenty of reason to hate her."

Katniss opens her mouth to reply, but is cut off by a thunderclap in the distance. "Crap," she mutters. Wordlessly agreeing to get back to the district, we retrieve our remaining arrows from the trees and head east at a decent clip. It starts spitting rain before we're even halfway to the boundary, and it quickly turns into a downpour. We begin to run, but we're still a minute or two out when hail starts pelting us from above.

"The barracks!" I shout over the racket of thunder and hail.

"What?" Katniss shouts back.

"We can take cover at the barracks!" I repeat. She looks like she's about to protest, but then changes her mind and just nods. We aren't all that close to any of Katniss's usual hiding places for her weapons, where she leaves their waterproof covers, but she scopes out a hollow log with enough space for the bows and quivers. We make do by wrapping them in our jackets, then make a mad dash for the building. I'm a pretty fast runner, but Katniss pulls way out in front of me. I push through the fence just in time to see her bound up the three steps to the M wing door and huddle under the small overhang.

She eyes me warily when I swipe my keycard on arrival and hold the door open for her. "You're allowed to let me inside?" she asks in disbelief.

"Hell no, " I chuckle, "it's a major security breach." She hesitates, so I grin and tease her, "What, since when do you care about following the rules?"

"Aren't there cameras?"

"Yeah, but no one ever watches the footage unless something goes wrong. Don't worry about it." I grab her shirttail and lead her through the hallways toward my quarters, peeking around each corner to ensure the coast is clear. I stop short just as I'm about to round the final corner when I see my other next-door neighbor Athena stepping out of her room, and I shoot my hand back to stop Katniss before she comes into sight. I sigh in relief when my comrade turns south and heads for the common area, then turn back to check on Katniss and see I've got my hand flattened against her stomach. "Sorry," I whisper, pulling it back and blushing slightly. She shrugs impassively, and after one more check that we're alone, I make a beeline for my door. I urgently swipe my keycard and shove the intruder inside, glancing once more in each direction at a thankfully empty hallway before closing the door behind us. "Phew," I chuckle, "that was fun."

"You live for danger, huh?" Katniss remarks. I smile innocently, and she just scoffs and continues scanning our surroundings. "You get your own room."

"Yeah."

"It's nice," she comments.

"Well, give me your boots before you get mud all over the carpet." Really, it's a shitty carpet and the boots are mostly just wet, but I don't want to be stepping in water all night. I kick off my shoes and place them outside the door, and turn back to see Katniss just finishing unlacing her second boot. She holds them up, a few drips falling from the toes. I can't just put them out in the hallway, as that would basically announce her presence, so I improvise and grab a dirty t-shirt from my laundry pile to wipe them down. "Your feet get wet?" I ask.

"A little," she says, stripping off her damp socks. I put another shirt under the boots in case of any leakage and then start peeling off my own wet clothes. My socks are thoroughly soaked, as is my shirt from just that couple of minutes without a jacket. I've tossed them mindlessly onto the pile and am just starting to force my wet and clingy pants down my thighs when I look up and catch Katniss staring slack-jawed. I freeze for a second, but then decide it's better to just act like it's no big deal. I mean, really, did she expect me not to take my wet clothes off?

I wiggle a leg out of my pants and casually inquire, "Do you want some dry clothes?"

She blinks a few times. "Yeah," she says, deliberately raising her eyes to my face, "that would be great."

I can't help smirking, but otherwise neglect to comment on her reaction. I mosey out into the hallway to fetch us some towels, still clad in only my wet underwear. It's not like my neighbors aren't used to my usual indecency. I take my towel from the bathroom and nab an extra one from the linen closet on my way back. When I get back to the room, I find Katniss examining my collection of photos and immediately tense up. I hadn't considered before bringing her in here that some of the pictures I've puttied to the wall above my desk insinuate my involvement in the program. Good thing she doesn't know it exists.

"Who is that girl?" she asks, pointing to a photo of me with Scarlett and her now famous face. In it, I'm straining up on my tiptoes to stick my tongue in Scar's ear while she makes a comically disgusted face at the camera. I think it was Cato who took that picture, a couple years ago during the Victory Tour. That was one of the years we won and were also celebrating the Harvest Festival, as the booths in the background suggest. Katniss probably won't put those pieces together, and her not recognizing Scarlett Caskey is a good sign, but her blank face suggests she's suppressing some kind of emotion. I swallow and avert my eyes to the photo again. "Is that Clove?" she digs, her tone a shade harsher. Oh, so that's why her eyes look vaguely murderous. My sigh of relief almost turns into a laugh. I was right about her remembering ex's names.

"No," I say. "She's not up there. I don't want to see her face. That's–" I stop myself just before I say her name. "That's Beanstalk, as I call her." Katniss snickers. "She's a friend from back home. Or, maybe not a friend. I don't know what to call her, but we spent a fair bit of time together."

"I get that. I have a girl like that at school." I hand Katniss the towel and hope that's distraction enough from the topic. "Thanks." She dabs her face with it and then shakes it open and reaches up to dry her hair.

"Actually," I cut in, "do you want to take a shower? It'll warm you up." She pauses and eyes me with a hint of reproach. "And I can toss your clothes in the dryer while you're in there."

"You have hot showers?" she scoffs. "And machines to dry your clothes?"

"Yeah," I declare, crossing my arms. "As a matter of fact, we do."

She rolls her eyes. "Of course you do," she mutters.

"Don't bite the hand that feeds you," I retort bluntly. She raises an affronted eyebrow. "Fine," I shrug theatrically, "if you have a problem with that, we don't have to use them. I don't even have to let you stay here until the rain stops. I can just throw you back out there in your wet clothes right now, whatever."

"Yeah, maybe you should," she snarks.

I groan in exasperation and snap, "Oh, just shut up and take your fucking clothes off."

Katniss's eyes bulge and mouth slips open a little as she blushes instantaneously, and I can't help but smile smugly at her reaction even though I know I will probably regret the specifics of my wording later. Her eyes briefly dip back down my mostly naked figure before she catches my eye again and turns even redder. She tucks some hair behind her ear and huffs, "I'd rather have a little privacy, if you don't mind."

"Fine," I say, allowing myself a chuckle at her expense. "Do it in the bathroom, just give them to me before you get in."

I sneak Katniss over to my communal bathroom in much the same way as I got her to my room. I check that it's empty and then guide her inside and over to the showers. I whip open one curtain to reveal the changing area in front of the shower itself. "It's behind the second curtain," I tell her. "It's easy, just turn the handle to the left and it'll turn on. Turn it farther to make it hotter."

"Okay," she nods. She hands me her clothes through the curtain and I go next door to the laundry room and toss them in a washing machine along with my wet clothes. Now wrapped only in my towel, I let it all spin for a couple of minutes and move it to the dryer, then return to the bathroom. "That Johanna?" Katniss asks cautiously over the splashing of water when I enter the stall next to her.

"Yeah," I tell her. "You're safe." But I don't bother taking the time to get especially clean before getting out and toweling off, because I'm sure it's only a matter of time before someone comes in and finds us here. Katniss turns off her water just as I'm stepping out. "I'm gonna go get you some clothes, okay? Yours won't be dry for a bit."

"You know what?" she sighs. "Forget it. I'd rather get out of here before the wrong person sees us and I get strung up in the square." That makes two of us, though I really doubt the consequences would be that severe. She emerges a moment later, swathed in her towel and only partially dry, and we make for the exit. I'm mere steps from the door when it unexpectedly swings toward me and I collide right into a person just entering the room. My heart plummets into my stomach, because I know who it is immediately – I've seen that shirt enough times on my floor. I step back and hesitantly raise my eyes to Darius's stunned face.

"K-Katniss," the redhead stammers, something I've never witnessed before. He blinks most of the shock from his expression and jokingly asks, "To what do we owe the honor?"

"We were out shooting arrows and got caught in the storm," she explains.

"This was the closest shelter," I chip in defensively.

"Oh, so that's what you've been doing with your Sundays," he deduces. He bounces his eyes between us, and they land on Katniss with a broad smile. "I won't keep you." With a sweeping dramatic gesture, he announces, "But welcome to the barracks. Enjoy your stay."

Katniss chuckles and brushes by us. "Thanks, Darius. I'll summon you if I need waiting on."

"But of course, m'lady." He pantomimes tipping an imaginary hat at her, then turns back into the bathroom. He's still smiling when he meets my gaze, but I can see the strain behind it.

"Darius…" I say softly with a placating hand on his bicep, before he has a chance to say anything or think too much.

"Don't worry, Johanna," he assures me. "Your secret's safe with me." That's not what I'm worried about. He's the best person to run into here, in a sense, because there's no way he'd tell on us. But he's also the worst.

"Darius," I repeat, with a firmer edge.

"I need a shower," he says calmly, brushing me off. "I'll catch you later." Oh, fuck my life. So much for no drama. I turn around and see Katniss observing his retreat inquisitively, but I only shrug and usher her back to my door. Once we're safely in the room, I hand her new socks and underwear along with a pair of sweats and a long-sleeved forest green shirt, then deliberately turn around to dress myself.

"I've never seen you in normal clothes," Katniss remarks just as I'm pulling a navy t-shirt over my head.

"We're not allowed to wear them outside the barracks," I say over my shoulder. "I'm sure you've noticed." I finish pulling my shirt down and turn around to examine her more closely. The garments seem to fit her just fine aside from the conspicuous lines of skin above her socks and waistband. The fact that my clothes are too short for her but not at all too tight is kind of depressing, and indicative of her upbringing. "Sorry, I know they don't really fit."

"It's fine, I like it," she says, picking at the shirt. "It's my favorite color."

"I like it too. I love it in the woods."

She catches my eye and infers, "But it's not your favorite."

"Red," I say plainly, with a small smile.

"Like the blood of your enemies?" she smirks.

"Something like that," I chuckle. Her exposed stomach draws my eyes down for a second, and this second look at her physique sends a pang of guilt through my chest. The scrawny kid is probably always hungry, but she really must be now that we were just out in the woods for hours. I'm an idiot for not thinking of this sooner, because even I'm hungry at this point. "I'll be right back," I promise, backing toward the door. "I'm gonna go grab us some food."

"Okay," she says with a touch of surprise. "Thank you."

I make my way to the kitchen and program a large meal into the rations dispenser. The ovens in here only get used when Peacekeepers buy outside food – which, to be fair, is pretty often. The food included in our room and board comes from Martha, as they call it. Of course the troops, a decent majority of which are men, gave the closest thing we have to a cook a woman's name. I'm not sure what they're trying to say about females and cooking, though, because all her food comes from preserved, pre-packaged ingredients and it's really not that great. I assume she must be a bad knockoff of the room service machines in the Training Center that Scar told me about.

We each get a limited number of points to spend per day between Martha's computerized menu and our canned field lunches, and I max my allowance out. It's still not really enough for two, but it'll take the edge off until Katniss can get home, anyway. While Martha's taking the few minutes she always does to whip up our food, I swing by the Commune and make a large mug of hot chocolate. I tray up the dishes the machine spits out along with a glass of milk and the steaming mug, then gingerly ease myself back through the halls of M wing.

I kick out a rhythm on my door until Katniss cracks it open and I can squeeze back into the room. "Wow," she gapes at my full tray, "this is what you get for dinner?"

"This is more than I'd usually get," I inform her, before she starts judging me again. "It was my day off, so I didn't eat much earlier. Had rations left to spare." I motion for her to sit down on the edge of the bed, and then I ease myself down within inches of her so we can balance the tray across my right and her left knee. I point at the tall mug and ask, "Have you ever had hot chocolate?" She shakes her head. "It's good," I assure her. "Sweet. You'll probably like it."

Katniss motions between it and the milk. "Why just one of each?"

"So we can share spit," I deadpan. She narrows her eyes doubtfully, and I echo her gesture at the cups. "You don't think a big tray of food and two cups of each would look suspicious?"

"Good point," she concedes. I did snag an extra set of cutlery, however, which I find Katniss handles better than I expected when we start in on the food. I don't want to assume too much based on where she grew up, but when some of my rather pig-like coworkers say that Seam people stuff down their food like savages, it doesn't give me high expectations. It takes a minute of rumination before I realize that it was probably her mother's influence, seeing as she was born Townie and all. We continue to eat in silence for a few more moments before Katniss abruptly looks up from the poorly defrosted diced beef and gravy she's working on and says, "Can I ask you something?"

I shrug and swallow my mouthful of asparagus and almonds. "Shoot."

Katniss purses her lips thoughtfully, her brow furrowing a touch, and my stomach slowly tenses up. "That thing Darius said," she finally starts, "around New Year's… about you kissing him." Her eyes take on a new intensity, unintentionally forcing mine away. "Was it true?"

"No, it wasn't," I say to the tray.

"So, you haven't kissed him?" she presses.

I look her in the eye now, and choose my words carefully. "You think I would lie about that?"

"Well, either you're lying now or you were lying before," she points out stiffly. "Or joking. I couldn't tell if you were joking."

"I was joking," I assure her. I don't have the heart, or the ovaries, to tell her that I much more than kissed him mere hours later, and have been in a habit of doing so ever since.

"Okay," she breathes. "It's just… I'm not the best at reading people and what's going on in their heads, I know that, but that was really weird," she says, nodding toward the bathroom.

"That's just Darius," I reason. "He's always a little awkward and over-the-top." My mouth puckers a little when I give the example, "Offering you kisses for rabbits and shit."

Katniss laughs uneasily. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

We spend the next few hours lounging on the bed, talking and waiting for the rain to stop. Katniss can surprisingly be quite the chatterbox when you get her talking about something she's interested in. She spends a good twenty minutes describing the various herbs she gathers for her mother's small apothecary business, what they look like and where to find them. Apparently her family has a book of sorts dedicated to this information, which I guess she had to memorize to make use of. I tell her about my family, who – despite the name – are not stonemasons. Well, one of my cousins is, but most of us are Peacekeepers or stonecutters.

"Your family works in mines too?" she gapes when I describe the job.

"Yeah," I scoff. "Some things aren't so different from here. Not everyone's happy with how things are or 'runs around with a gun.'" She bites her lip guiltily, but I press on, "It's hard work. Dangerous, too. We haven't had any explosions go wrong in my village in the last couple decades, but we get avalanches out there. Serious injuries that put people out of work aren't uncommon." I tuck one arm behind my back for effect. "Ripper doesn't faze me at all."

Katniss nibbles on one of her nails, hesitating a moment before prying, "Has anyone in your family…" She shifts her eyes over to mine in lieu of finishing that sentence.

"Died? Just my piece-of-shit uncle." Her eyes widen, but I brush it off with a shrug. "It was his own damn fault, anyway. Was drunk on the job and hadn't harnessed himself in properly. Fell two hundred feet off a ledge." I kind of want to ask about her father, but I figure if she wants to talk about it, she'll bring it up. She doesn't.

In our rare quiet moments, we just lie there and listen to the rain patter on the roof and the soil outside my window. It's during one of these that I finally remember our laundry. I retrieve it from the dryer and return to find Katniss standing by the now open window, staring out into the dark. I dump the clothes on my swivel chair and join her.

"I like the sound," she says as I step up beside her. "It's soothing." The rain's definitely lighter than it was before, but it's still falling steadily. It's well past nine now and I'd usually be heading to bed around this time. Unless I was already in bed, for more fun reasons. I shake that thought from my head and chew on my lip, evaluating the situation.

"Hmm," I muse, not sure what solution to offer. "I don't wanna send you out there in dry clothes and no jacket."

Katniss glances over at me in surprise. "Can't I just stay until the rain stops, like you said?"

"I thought it would be before I hit the sack," I admit. She blinks down, and I immediately backpedal, "Hey, I don't mind you staying here into the night. I really, truly don't." I do, but not for the reason she surely thinks. And I'm not about to explain the real reason. "But won't your mom be worried?"

"My mother doesn't have the right to be worried about me, okay?" she sneers. "I'm not her problem." I bite my lip to suppress another unhelpful remark on that issue, and instead drum my fingers on the windowsill, weighing my options. I know I've been playing with fire with this girl, testing my self-imposed boundaries, but this goes way beyond my comfort zone. Shooting in the forest with her is one thing. Sharing a twin bed is a whole other animal. "Well, unless you want to drive me home in one of the trucks," she suggests, interrupting my thoughts, "I think that's our best option."

"They're not for personal use," I counter. "That's one rule they definitely would enforce. I can't just go running off with government property."

"I figured. I've never seen any of you guys drive to or from the Hob."

"See?" I smirk. "You are observant."

She shrugs, a small smile coming over her face. "With some things."

"Oh, yeah?" I chuckle, poking her in the ribs. "What else, then?"

Katniss is suddenly gazing intensely into my eyes, and I have to fight the impulse to look away from that penetrating stare. She doesn't speak for a long moment. "You're scared," is what she finally says. "And tired."

I cross my arms and scoff, "I thought you said you can't read people."

"I can read behaviors in animals that help me hunt them," she explains. "People are different, but I can still see those same emotions, under all the acting." She tilts her head, biting her top lip and examining me closer. "Are you afraid I'm gonna kill you in your sleep?"

"Like I couldn't take you," I snort.

"I'm sure you could more than take me," she concedes, blinking up and down my small but athletic body. "So what's the problem?" I squeeze my eyes shut in frustration. I really need to learn to think before I speak. And the little fucker, is she saying this shit on purpose? Or is she totally oblivious to the double entendres that keep coming out of her mouth? I open my eyes to see Katniss's face slowly going blank. "Was someone else gonna come over or something?"

"What? No!" I protest. "No one was coming over." Maybe Darius would have if he hadn't seen us together, but I doubt he's in the mood now. Katniss looks far from convinced, though. I sigh and scratch the back of my head, trying to regain my composure. If Katniss thinks she's picking up on lies, then I have to be very truthful with her so she can tell the difference. I look her dead in the eye and tell her earnestly, "I want you here. I do. I'm just trying to be responsible."

"I've told you time and time again, I can take care of myself," she insists, but her eyes ease up despite her frustration. I can breathe again.

"Okay," I relent, mostly just relieved to have escaped that psychological assessment unscathed. "You can stay until the rain lets up or until I have to go to work, one or the other. If you get caught here while I'm gone, I can't protect you."

"Protect me?" she demands, eyebrows arching up in insult. "What did I just say, Johanna?"

"I meant with my word, brainless. If I say I invited you in, they'd probably let you off pretty easy, and I'd be the one in trouble. But if you're some random local who's infiltrated the barracks…" I whistle. "You'd be fucked. And not in a good way."

She considers this momentarily and agrees, "Okay, that's fair. I have to go to school a few hours after you leave, anyway."

We go through another awkward round of back-to-back changing, into pajamas this time, and then have to sneak back to the bathroom once more so I can brush my teeth and Katniss can pee without having to wake me up to accompany her later on. Her bladder isn't shy, go figure. The second I hear my door click shut behind us upon our return is when my nerves really kick in, though. I glance over at Katniss, who's scratching behind her ear and examining the room. "So… where am I sleeping?" she asks.

I shrug nonchalantly. "Whichever side you prefer."

"So, in the bed," she concludes. I incredulously squint her way and she twitches her mouth amusedly. "I didn't want to presume anything."

"Believe it or not, I'm not a heartless bitch." Katniss smirks, and I shoot her a warning look. I nod at the bed and repeat, "Your choice." She wordlessly pulls back the covers and scoots over against the wall, then widens her eyes meaningfully. "Okay," I say, flicking off the lights. I slip in beside her and she drapes the blankets over me before I have a chance to grab them. "Thanks," I say, turning onto my right side and pulling them tight into my chest. I curl into myself and try not to think about how close she is.

***o***

I wriggle a little as I blink myself into waking. My skin is all clammy and it makes me shiver despite the excess heat in my bed. Still half-asleep, it doesn't strike me as unusual until a warm breeze hits the back of my neck and my eyes snap wide open. Waking up quickly and being ready to fight or run immediately is something I practiced while in the program. They said it's one of the most underrated skills, so I worked on it, and I forced Clove to as well. It was fun, anyway, pouncing on her when she was asleep and scaring the shit out of her.

Now breathing heavily, my senses go into overdrive and I feel the warm pressure of a living body against my back, as well as the weight of an arm looped over my ribcage. I blink down without moving and peer at the foreign appendage in the dim light of early dawn, then sigh as my adrenaline clears once I note the olive skin tone. Katniss slept over because of the rain, I remember now. I woke up to use the bathroom in the middle of the night and found it had stopped, but she was sleeping so peacefully I couldn't make myself wake her and kick her out.

I check my clock and see it's a quarter after five, meaning I need to get up soon anyway, but I dawdle. I've now detected Katniss's right arm wedged underneath my head and the bit of the pillow it's still resting on; she's essentially wrapped around me, and it will be difficult to extricate myself without waking her. Admittedly, I'm also stalling because I'm extremely comfortable like this. But I shouldn't let myself get used to it.

I groan under my breath and grasp Katniss's wrist, gently freeing her hand from where it's trapped between my ribcage and the mattress. I lift it so I can discreetly slide out from under her arm, but pause when her hand comes into plain view. Her palm is a little rough, either from the labor of hunting or by virtue of it being her bow hand, I imagine. Maybe from climbing trees, like she did that first day. Before I realize what I'm doing, I'm grazing my thumb over the meat below hers and tilting her hand various ways to get a better look. The creases in her palm are deep and her fingers are long, nails bitten down to stubs. My right hand suddenly twitches where it rests on the mattress, its fingers filled with an urge to slip between hers. I sigh with an ironic smile. Here I am, worrying about taking advantage of her, when I actually have the purest of intentions. I just want to know what it feels like to hold her hand. It's almost embarrassing to admit. What am I, twelve?

Katniss stirs behind me, pulling me back to the moment, and I realize my thumb has migrated to the center of her palm. I still my hand but strain my neck to get a decent view of her face over my shoulder and see if she's waking up. Her eyes flutter adorably and then settle on me. She smiles warmly, at least until she notices the positioning of her arm and the way I'm gripping her hand. Alarmed, she draws it back over my side. "Sorry, I… it's a habit," she falters, blushing up a storm. "I share a bed with my sister. Sometimes I'll hold her if she's having a nightmare."

Great, now she's the embarrassed one. I roll my eyes to myself and turn over, my face settling mere inches from hers. Her other arm is still supporting my head, whether she's realized that yet or not. "Was I having a nightmare?" I inquire curiously.

"I don't remember," she admits.

"Neither do I." I extricate my right hand from where it's now uncomfortably wedged between our torsos and lay my palm on her ribcage instead. She's gazing down her body at my hand when I suggest, "Maybe I was having a good dream."

She blinks up and holds my gaze with a keen intensity. "Could be," she whispers.

A loud knock suddenly resounds throughout the room, making us both flinch. I screw my eyes shut and groan inwardly. Not again. "Jo?" Darius calls from outside. Katniss narrows her eyes and mouths the nickname back to me as a question, but I shake my head in a silent command to let it go. "Johanna, I need to talk to you," Darius insists, knocking again.

"Fuck," I mutter, glancing between the door and my bedmate. I don't have time to get Katniss dressed and out the window before Darius gets suspicious, and I don't want him to know she's still here. That's just way too much awkwardness for me to deal with this early in the morning. Katniss appears rather anxious too, and doesn't protest when I whisper, "Hide." I plant my feet on the floor and call, "All right, all right, I'm coming!" at the door, motioning for Katniss to get under the bed. I deliberately shout a few obscenities while she does so to mask the noise, and push my chair forward to conceal her clothes still sitting there. I step toward the door and, at the last second, spy her boots sitting under my clothing rack and toss them under the bed. I flick my lights on, whip open the door, and grumble, "Can't let a girl get her beauty sleep?"

"Like you need one," he scoffs, eyeing me up.

I roll my eyes and shake the start of a flattered smile from my face. "What do you want, Hallett?"

He peeks past me and observes, "Katniss is gone?"

"Yeah," I lie. "What's it to you?"

"I just didn't hear her leave."

"You were probably asleep." I say. "It was after the rain stopped."

"Ah," he nods, eyes darting back into my room. "Can I come in?" I casually shrug and step back to let him by. He sits down on my bed and only waits for the door to click shut before demanding, "Are you trying to get yourself discharged? Or worse?"

I shrug innocently. "Hey, pardon me for not knowing what rules carry any weight around here."

"Use your common sense, Johanna. The barracks is locked for a reason," he scolds me. "You can't just bring civilians in here anytime you feel like it."

"You're the one who told her to enjoy her stay," I parry.

"Because I trust her, and because it wasn't her fault."

"Yeah, exactly," I emphasize. "She's trustworthy. It didn't hurt anyone."

"But it could have. If you'd gotten caught…" He shakes his head, holding my gaze as he trails off. "You know Cray has it out for you, and you've already been suspended once. He'd come down harder on you than most."

I snort disgustedly. "Cray just hates me because I basically called him fucked up when I found out about his thing for teenagers."

Darius pops his eyes pointedly. "Well, that probably wasn't the smartest thing you could have done on your first day."

I feel my eyes light on fire and my face morph into a scowl as I cross my arms. "You're not actually defending him, are you?"

"No, this has nothing to do with him," he quickly denies. "I think you're playing with fire and you should cool it."

"Cool what?"

"Cray tolerates Gale and Katniss because they're the best poachers in the district," says Darius. "But he also thinks they're troublemakers. You might want to avoid seeming too cozy with them." I can't very well tell Darius that Cray basically encouraged me to get involved with Katniss as a mole, not with her hiding less than a foot under his butt. I decide to go on the offensive instead.

"Me, too cozy?" I retort. "You're the one who was trying to convince the girl to trade a rabbit for one of your kisses."

"Yes, but I have no intentions of trying to fuck her," he snaps. "You know that."

My mouth drops open and I indignantly scoff, "What, and you're saying I do?"

"I don't know. You tell me."

My face goes stony, my voice deep and quiet. "Darius. You know what happened back in Two, and how broken up I was over it. You need to be very, very careful what you say next." He follows that advice and takes his time choosing his words. But the tactic he shifts to is almost worse with Katniss in earshot.

"I told you I don't want drama, Johanna," is what he says. "I said if we're gonna do this–"

I cut in before he can reveal too much. "There is no drama. Calm down."

"I am calm," he states. "But if you're sleeping with someone other than me, I think that's worth talking about." I cringe as those fateful words tumble off his tongue. Fuck this asshole. Now I'll have to do damage control with Katniss as well.

"First of all, I am not sleeping with Katniss," I spit, planting my hands on my hips. Okay, so I slept with her last night, but not like that. I narrow my eyes at the target of my wrath and continue, "Secondly, when you said you wanted to keep things casual and non-dramatic, I assumed that meant I wouldn't have to deal with you coming in here and whining like a little bitch because you're jealous. It's none of your fucking business."

"I'm not jealous," he denies immediately.

"Sure you are," I stab. "I saw it in your face last night."

"Yeah? Well, I see things in your face all the time, too," he deflects. "I've seen the way you look at her."

I tuck my tongue under my lower lip and chuckle sardonically out my nose. "Are you really that insecure? That me looking at an attractive girl threatens you?"

"I just want you to be honest with me about what's going on," he insists. "When I said, 'No drama,' I meant we'd be up front with each other, like friends should be. Not sneaking off to meet up with other people behind each other's backs."

"Then you should have specified that that's what you wanted. And I wasn't sneaking around behind your back. Do I have to tell you where I've been every second of every fucking day?" My alarm starts blaring just as I finish that sentence, and I storm over to smack the snooze button and shut the damn thing up. I sigh into the suddenly heavy silence and slowly pivot to meet the redhead's eye again. "You don't own me, Darius," I say plainly.

"I never said I do," he argues weakly. He sighs and rubs his face with his palms. "Fine, I'm jealous. I admit it. But I'm jealous because you're keeping me in the dark."

"Then let me lay it out for you. Katniss and I shoot arrows in the forest sometimes on Sunday afternoons."

"And that's it?" he asks doubtfully.

"Yeah, that's it," I sneer. "For fuck's sake, Darius, she's fifteen."

"And very mature for her age," he points out. "And a stunner, according to your tastes."

"It doesn't matter what my tastes are, she's too young," I reiterate. "Not to mention a local. And even if I did like her, I thought you said you were fine with me having feelings for other people."

"Clove was in the past," he clarifies.

"Yeah, and she's really in the past now," I say, holding his gaze meaningfully. He exhales slowly, and some of the aggression leaves his posture. "I like what we have going here, okay?" I tell him. "It's fun, and it's easy. Let's not change that with all this bullshit."

Darius chuckles to himself and stands up. "The problem is, you don't like easy. Not really." He leans down and pecks me on the lips. I don't return the kiss, because I'm still angry. But I don't stop him, either. "I'll see you at the briefing."

I stand there awkwardly as I listen to his footsteps fading away toward the common area, unsure of what to say to Katniss. Once it's clear that we're alone again, I sigh in a mix of relief and resignation to the impending confrontation. "I'm sorry you had to hear that."

"That's what you're sorry about?" The girl crawls out from her hiding spot and stands up to her full height, looking down on me with disdain. "You lied to me."

"No, I didn't," I argue. "I specifically worded what I said to make sure I wasn't lying."

"Then you misled me. That's just as bad." She brushes past me and peels off her pajama top on the way to where her clothes are piled.

"Okay, fine, I misled you," I confess, trying not to trip over my words. "But we've been misleading everybody," I say to her back while she fastens her bra. "We haven't told anyone, Katniss. What makes you so special, that I should tell you?"

"Because I asked you!" she snarls, whipping around before she's even finished slipping the straps over her shoulders. "I asked you, and I expected an honest fucking answer." I swallow, fighting to keep my eyes on the flushing skin of her face and nowhere else. Right now, I'm really resenting my penchant for angry sex.

"Maybe your expectations are too high," I retort. Katniss scoffs and pulls her shirt over her head, much to my relief. "I have other priorities besides keeping you happy, you know."

"Yeah, clearly," she snaps.

I narrow my eyes and take a predatory step forward. "You really think the entire world revolves around you, don't you? It doesn't matter to you that I have an arrangement with Darius that I don't want to betray. It's all about what you think I owe you."

"Oh, like some respect, for instance?" Her jaw twitches. "Or am I too young for that, too?"

"You have my respect, Katniss," I assure her. She snorts cynically and then shoots me a pointed look and motions for me to turn around. I obey, but insist, "Really. I've told you before, I admire you and everything you do." I briefly hesitate before admitting, "I don't see you as a child. I said that to get him to shut up about you."

The rustle of clothing behind me pauses. "Why did you want him to shut up about me?"

"Because he doesn't know what he's talking about."

Katniss chuckles acerbically, and I hear her forcibly yank her pants up. "Maybe you're the one who doesn't know what you're talking about," she grumbles. I throw her a questioning look over my shoulder, but she shakes her head and looks down, ostensibly to zip up her pants. I inch closer. When she lifts her head, the strain has returned to her face, and the ire to her eyes. "I understand why he's angry," she divulges. "Do you do this with everyone? Tell them what they want to hear to their face so they'll like you or, god forbid, trust you, even if it's totally false? Tell me you respect me to make me happy, insult me to make Darius happy?" She tilts her head challengingly, but her voice almost catches when she continues, "Is this all some kind of game to you? A bunch of secrets and lies you tell yourself and everyone else?"

I swallow down my excess emotion so I can at least appear calm, but my reply is earnest all the same. "I'm just trying to keep everything from blowing up in my face." That's about the best explanation I can give right now. Apparently it's not good enough for Katniss, because she just shakes her head disappointedly and sidesteps by me. I watch as she sits down on the bed, snatches her boots from under it and wiggles her feet down into them, but she makes a point of not looking at me. "What more do you want me to say?"

She stands abruptly, not bothering to tighten the laces the run the length of her boots. "I'm not interested in being one more consideration you have to manage, one more piece in whatever game you're playing," she asserts. Her face and gaze both harden as she stares down at me. "So, let me help you with your balancing act." She marches to the window and pushes it open, swinging the pane up and out, and braces her foot on the bed so she can climb onto the windowsill.

She's already halfway out the window by the time I manage a weak, "Katniss, wait."

Katniss looks back, but only in the literal sense. "Come find me when you have a better answer." With that, she drops to the ground.

***o***

I jolt as the shrill sound of the school bell rings through the open windows of the hummer, and Cedric laughs from the driver's seat. "Don't tell me you were sleeping?"

"Nah, I'm having flashbacks," I joke. "Haven't been out even six months." I can't very well admit that I startled out of anxiety. It already looks shady enough that I bribed Tory to switch assignments with me this morning.

My partner for the day laughs again and undoes his seatbelt. "You're not the first, don't worry about it." He hops out the door and prompts me, "Time to get to work, kiddo!"

I bite my lip at the sound of his door slamming shut, hesitating a moment to suck in a steadying breath. I catch up to him halfway to the nearest stone picnic table and casually inquire, "Who has the first lunch?"

Cedric swipes some residual water from the table surface before settling down on it, carelessly planting his muddy boots on the bench seat. "Sixes, nines, twelves, fifteens," he rattles off. My heart flutters at that last word. District Twelve's schooling system resembles the one back home in that the grades are grouped based on the age the kids were as of July 1st, the day of the last reaping. I hear they don't have a summer break here, though. In Two, schools take the month of July off so the students can watch the Games before starting the new school year. A victor is usually crowned within the first few weeks, but if not, the kids get an extended vacation. Of course, they always hope for a drawn out Hunger Games.

"Cool," I nod, watching as a bunch of small children pour out of a nearby door. "I'll be back in a bit."

"Where are you going?" he asks.

I gesture out into the sizeable schoolyard. "To do a sweep, obviously."

"You don't have to do that. All the action happens down here." He points at the decrepit playground about twenty yards away. "Little ones fighting over the swing sets, falling off the monkey bars." He nods toward the far end of the building. "Occasionally a fight will break out, but mostly the only interesting thing you'll find down there is teenagers making out."

"Gross," I sneer, making a face.

My graying comrade chuckles and reminds me, "You're a teenager."

"Whatever," I grumble. I start backing away and lift my radio. "Call me if you need backup. You know, if you can't handle a few bickering six year-olds." Cedric waves me away, his expression some combination of amused and annoyed. I stroll along the building's length, making an effort to square my shoulders and keep my head up so I don't look as nervous as I feel. Besides, I'm going to need some semblance of authority to pull off my scheme. I scan the line of picnic tables near the building and the field beyond, where a few twelves are throwing a ratty old football around. I'm on the verge of giving up and continuing my search inside when I catch sight of a dark brown braid beyond some straggling fifteens just exiting the building. I crane my neck to get a better look and approach slowly.

Katniss is not wearing the slightly oversized leather jacket I often use to identify her, but I'm sure it's her once I get a clear view of how she's sitting cross-legged on the stone bench, slouched over the table and not really looking at the blond girl eating across from her. I swallow down a smile at the telltale mannerisms that I'm starting to find oddly endearing, pull my shoulders back again and march the last stretch to the picnic table. The blonde spots me when I'm still a good ten feet away, and alarm starts washing over her features. Katniss, of course, doesn't notice. I halt a few feet to the brunette's right and boom, in my deepest and most authoritative voice, "Katniss Everdeen?"

The girl turns her head and startles at the sight of me. There's panic in her eyes as they jump from my vest to my gun to my face, but after a brief moment there, she recognizes me beyond the visor that partially obscures the top half of my face. At that point, the fear fades to irritation. "Yes?" she asks icily.

I make a come hither motion with my hand and command, "I'm going to need you to come with me."

"Am I under arrest?" she demands.

"Not if you cooperate. I just have a few questions for you." I reach down and get a grip on her upper arm to make it clear that I'm not asking. Katniss purses her lips and begrudgingly gets up, snatching what's left of her bread, if you can call it that, off the table. I turn to the worried girl across from her and assure her, in a somewhat kinder tone, "Not to worry, miss. I'm sure I'll have her back to you in no time."

Katniss angrily but silently devours her remaining bread as I escort her across the yard, a hand on the small of her back. Several kids watch with interest, but they look away as soon as I give them the evil eye. As we near the playground, Cedric spots us and starts to stand up, but I motion for him to stay put. I grab one of Katniss's upper arms again and guide her around the back of the truck so we can have some privacy. The second we're out of sight, she shakes my hand off her arm and hisses, "Are you insane? Prim will have a heart attack if she hears about this before I meet her after school. She was scared stiff when I didn't come home last night."

I calmly remove my helmet and shake my hair loose. "We weren't done our conversation," I reply matter-of-factly, resting it on my hip.

She scoffs in disbelief. "Johanna, you do not get to just arrest me anytime you want to force me to listen to you. What the heck is wrong with you?" She doesn't give me time to respond before ranting, "You know, this is just like you. Saying you have respect for me, and then pulling something like this. Clearly, you have no understanding of the word."

"Would you rather I cozy up to you and start chatting you up like we're best friends?" I suggest mockingly. "I'm sure that would go over well with the other kids." I smirk and punch her shoulder lightly. "At least if I'm arresting you, you're a total badass."

"Yeah, or dead," she snaps, but I catch a hint of levity in her tone. She sighs and toes the ground, scratching behind her ear. "What do you want, Hanna?"

"I want to talk to you," I reply simply. "I wanted to this morning, but you were being ridiculously aggressive and I couldn't have a real conversation with you." Katniss catches my eye with a mild glare, but doesn't disagree. "Why were you so mad at me?"

"Because you made me feel like an idiot," she snaps. "I believed you when you said there was nothing going on between you two."

"I didn't say–"

"You know what I mean." Her eyes cloud over and she begins chewing on her lip, so I wait for her to speak again. Eventually, she inquires, "Why didn't you want him to know I was there?"

"Darius?" She nods, and I'm quick to point out, "You didn't complain when I told you to hide."

"I was caught off guard when he knocked. I didn't think anything of it until later, after you kept insisting we're not involved," she explains. She exhales heavily and takes a moment before asking, "Are you ashamed to be spending time with me?"

"It's… it's not you," I falter. "It's a long story."

"More vague answers," she sighs dismissively. "You're wasting my time."

"I want to explain, but it's something I am ashamed of."

"So, you actually don't want to explain," she concludes.

"Not that part, no." Before she can move to leave, I brace my hand against her collarbones and add, "But I want to be honest with you. That's why I'm here." Katniss crosses her arms and leans back against the side of the hummer, raising her eyebrows expectantly. I take a deep breath and try to channel my inner wordsmith and all my sincerity. "You're not a game to me, okay? I'm not trying to toy with you, I swear." I bite my lip and briefly let my eyes hit the dirt. "I'm not trying to toy with anyone, but there's a lot going on and… and you're right, I suck at this balancing act. It's all very confusing, and I'm trying to do my best for everyone, including myself, but I keep fucking up."

"It's impossible to please everyone," she declares. "But I think this morning made me it pretty clear where your priorities lie." I lift an eyebrow, and she unexpectedly sighs and drops her blank face. Betrayal and touch of hurt is palpable in her expression when she elaborates, "You said you didn't want things to change with Darius. That whole thing seems very important to you for something that's supposedly 'casual' and 'fun.'"

It's as much a challenge as it is a question when I demand, "Why do you even care that I'm sleeping with Darius?" I don't know why I even bother asking, because I'm pretty damn sure of why. Maybe her unexpected vulnerability broke me down. Maybe I just want to hear her say it.

But Katniss doesn't say anything at all. She rolls her eyes, scoops her hands under the straps connecting my breastplate and shoulder guards, and abruptly mashes our lips together. She holds her mouth there, unmoving, for a few seconds before pulling back, her face clouded with uncertainty. I can only blink for the first few seconds after that as I try to regain my balance and focus. By the time I've got my thoughts together enough to comprehend that Katniss Everdeen just kissed me, her mouth has slipped open and her eyes are jumping around my face in a panic. "I… uh…" is all that makes it out of her mouth as it starts moving with soundless words. It's perhaps the cutest thing I've ever seen. Fuck my reservations. Fuck it all.

I push up on my toes and press my lips against hers again before she can attempt to say another word. Her eyes grow almost comically, but she at least has the presence of mind move her lips a little in response. Her mouth is still hanging partway open, so I swipe my tongue along the inside of her bottom lip and am rewarded with a gasp. Dropping my helmet, I reach up and loop my arms around her neck, leaning forward to melt into her and sandwich her body between my armor and the truck. Her hands slide down my sides to rest tentatively on my hips while I work my tongue further into her mouth and probe hers. She responds slowly but deliberately, establishing a soft rhythm, and I instinctively shut my eyes and release a tiny moan into her mouth. Suddenly, her fingertips are digging into my flesh and her lips are moving feverishly, and we have to pull apart before long because we're both gasping for air.

"Fuck," I pant, staring up into those charcoal eyes that are holding mine with a relentless intensity.

"Wow," she agrees.

I scoff under my breath and reflect, "I probably shouldn't have done that."

"You shut your mouth before I shut it for you," Katniss growls. My eyes swell, along with other things, and I have take a step back before I do something completely inappropriate. "Is it Darius?" she asks with an accusing undertone. "You still wanna be with him?"

"Kind of," I admit, "but it's not just that. I told you, it's confusing." She cocks her head, her eyes hard again, so I jab, "Well, with all the people vying for your attention, I'd think you'd have had some conflicting feelings at one point or another. Your hunting partner, for instance?"

She scowls at the ground. "Gale and I are just friends. I'm not interested in him like that."

"Keep telling yourself that."

Her head snaps back up and she steps closer. "Yeah, I don't wanna do that to Gale." She slides her hands onto my hips again. "He doesn't make me feel like this." She dips her head slower this time, allowing me the time to anticipate and tilt my face up to meet her. I'm sure I'll be having another serious crisis of conscience before the day is up, but for now, the only emotions I can feel are contentment and pure elation.

We linger in this embrace awhile longer than our earlier ones, lazily drawing circles over each other's teeth and tongues, before Katniss lifts her mouth out of my reach. "I should go," she whispers. "Before my lunch is over or Madge goes and tells Prim I'm in trouble." I nod and brush a piece of hair from her face. Her cheeks flush a little and she blinks away, a tiny smile curling the corner of her mouth. "I… I've never done this before," she blurts. She catches my eye again right away to gauge my reaction.

"Kissing a girl?" I smirk. "Or kissing anyone?"

"Anyone."

I know I can't suppress the grin that wants to split my face open, so I don't try. "Well, Miss Everdeen," I proclaim, "it was an honor." Truly, I am honored, but also kind of relieved. She may say she's not into Gale, but that doesn't mean he hasn't tried something at one point or another.

Katniss's blush only deepens and she blinks down again, her eyes landing on my helmet. She stoops to pick it up and brush it off. I hold out my hands to take it from her, but she surprises me by lifting it all the way to my head and tugging it down to fit snugly over my crown. I tilt my face up, allowing her to secure the strap under my chin, and then she smooths her hands over the small brim atop my half-visor and smiles at me through the shield. A moment of hesitation later, she tips my chin back up and ducks and tilts her head so she can maneuver around the barrier and connect our lips one more time.

We keep the moment brief, but I remember something else in the middle of it and start pulling on the fingers of my right glove so I can free my hand. Once I wiggle it loose, I reach up and steal Katniss's left hand from where it rests just under my jaw. She pulls her mouth away questioningly as I pluck her hand from its spot, looking on as I extend our arms to the ground and lace our fingers together on the way down. She squeezes approvingly but shoots me another curious look. "Sorry," I murmur, flushing bright red. "I just… wanted to know what that felt like."

Katniss quirks her mouth in acknowledgement and bends our elbows again to leave a faint kiss on my knuckles. Then she squeezes one more time before dropping my hand and backing away. "See you soon?" she says as she reaches the back of the truck. A memory suddenly sweeps over my mind, and I'm smirking devilishly before I can even deliver the punch line.

"God, I hope not."

A/N: Happy Independence Day to those of you on the crazy side of the border, eh? ;)

I hope you all enjoyed these quick three chapters. I have a self-imposed deadline for finishing certain parts of Lifeblood, and I really need to get back to it, but I wanted to conclude this sort of mini plot arc and leave you with something good before putting this fic on hiatus. It was D7P who convinced me to write this chapter first, so you all can thank her. It was a good call. And don't worry, I swear I'm coming back to this. There's a lot of great stuff in store for this fic, and I'm very excited to get into the canon timeline and take it new places.

Thanks to D7P for the beta read and the technical advice regarding archery. She has many skills. :)