I let the frosty chain-link fence recoil into place behind me and retrieve my thermos from where I wedged it into the crook of my opposite elbow. I give the area between me and the barracks an uneasy scan, my other hand twitching where it's positioned under my bulky jacket, clutching my hatchets to my torso. The upside of the late winter cold snap that yesterday brought is an easy means of concealment for my illegal weapons. I'm no good at refusing Katniss's requests, even ones that could land me in trouble.

My heart flutters with anticipation as I make my way to our tree. I only saw the girl once this week, and even then we barely talked. I wanted to go to the Hob every night for more chances to run into her, but I didn't want to seem overeager or give Darius even more reason to be suspicious. We were there with a small group of coworkers when Katniss and Gale came in from hunting on Thursday evening, but I wandered a little ways to make a purchase from Ripper so she would feel more comfortable approaching me. She did, but stuck around just long enough to confirm we were on for Sunday before scuttling back to Gale. I'm not sure if it was because she was uncomfortable around me or around Darius, but she didn't stick around after that.

I spy movement when I near our meeting place, and quickly make out Katniss pacing around in the cold. She's back to wearing her thermal pants and has her knit cap pulled down tight over her ears.

"At least there's no snow?" I call out a little too cheerfully.

Katniss halts her movement and snarks, "Since when are you the type to look on the bright side?"

"Look who's talking," I retort lightly as I cozy up to her. I smirk and extend the thermos to her. "But, on the bright side, I brought some liquid warmth."

Katniss snatches the bottle and eagerly unscrews the cap. Upon glimpsing the brown liquid inside, she mutters, "Oh my god" and swallows a huge glug. She takes a couple more before wiping her mouth with the back of her hand and passing it back to me. "Thank you, you're a goddess."

I smirk into the drink and mumble, "Heard that one before, too." I tip it back and watch as Katniss's eyes narrow. She's getting better at catching my sexual innuendos. I enjoy a few mouthfuls of the rich, sweet fluid before handing the bottle back to her. "That's not my only surprise," I add, pulling my axes out of their hiding place. Her face lights up and she quickly seals the thermos and takes one of the weapons in her free hand.

"Wow, this is light," she remarks as she rotates her wrist to get a look from various angles.

"No kidding, brainless." She glares at me and I can't help but laugh. "They need to be light if you want to toss it any distance with one hand."

"Mm, I suppose," she grunts, tucking it into her belt. I pop my eyes cheekily and she nods at the extra bow and quiver propped up against a nearby log. "Thought we were sharing."

"True," I admit. "I don't really like sharing, to be honest."

"Neither do I." From the edge in Katniss's tone and the height of her eyebrow, I know she's not talking about weapons. I don't respond, just blink away and walk over to fetch the ones she left for me. A smile tugs at my lips because I honestly find it endearing when she's territorial, and I know she's just trying to get across how much she likes me. It's working. Still, I don't want to have this conversation right now.

I sling the quiver over my shoulder, grab the bow and follow Katniss, brittle twigs snapping under our boots on the frozen dirt path. She stops at the nearby clearing, perhaps because she doesn't want a long trek back in the cold and perhaps because she doesn't want a long trek back with me. I don't know.

"So are we shooting, or do you want to start right in on the axes?" I casually ask to break the silence.

"Let's toss. I think that'll warm me up more."

I grin into the collar of my jacket. "If you want me to keep you warm, you can just say so."

Katniss narrows her eyes, but the corner of her mouth turns up a little. "You wish."

I throw her my sassiest smirk and lay the archery implements on the ground. I swing my arms in a few large circles to loosen them up and then strip off my fingerless gloves that will only impair my grip. Katniss follows my lead, shucking her own mittens and slipping her fingertips out of her archery glove.

"Okay," I start. "First thing we're gonna work on is your grip." I barely resist the urge to make a crack about finger positioning being very important. Cat and mouse requires as much hanging back and teasing as it does making the prey uncomfortable. It's much more fun and effective to lure the prey into coming to you. And this game of control is no fun if I can't even control myself.

I make her mirror my slow-motion movements while we go over some basics – judging distance, weight transfer, timing of release – before demonstrating an actual throw with full force. The blade sticks deep and strictly vertical in the center of a thin tree maybe fifteen yards away. I smile at my perfect throw, but Katniss hardly looks impressed.

"That's as far as you can throw it?" she sasses me.

"You wouldn't want to throw it any farther," I lecture her, rolling my eyes. "Not practically. It's not like arrows or throwing knives, where you have a bunch of them and they're of little use for defense. If you have only one axe and you throw it, you're unprotected until you can grab it from the vic's body." Katniss squints slightly, and I make a mental note to avoid using casual slang when discussing human kills. "They're more useful for close combat," I say in summary.

My student looks vaguely disappointed, but nods her understanding. I throw a few more times, making her watch how I put all the elements together, before selecting a wider tree at about half the distance for her to aim at. "Remember, hold it like a handshake," I remind her as she lines up to toss. "And if you throw it with the right amount of force, it should make just one rotation from this distance." She nods and wastes no time slinging the axe, which spins a bit too much and wobbles slightly en route before smacking the wood hard and deflecting high into the air. A small group of mockingjays flees the foliage with urgent chirps just as the axe lands halfway to the tree.

"Damnit," she mutters, glaring at the traitorous weapon. I want to make fun of her like she did to me, but I can't help myself.

"It's harder than it looks," I sympathize. This just makes her glare even harder, and at me. I decide it might be in my best interests to roll out the flattery. "On the bright side," I venture with a hopefully disarming grin, "you just scared the shit out of those birds. If your bow was loaded, you could've had a little something extra to bring home to Mommy." I've seen Katniss take down a goose in flight before, one of our other times shooting. But she shakes her head.

"I'd only shoot at a mockingjay if I was starving," she says, her voice suddenly toneless. I squint curiously and she shrugs, "It isn't worth it. There's not enough meat on them to risk losing an arrow, and their flight paths are too erratic."

"So? That makes it a good challenge."

She scoffs. "I don't hunt for sport, Johanna."

"But you are a huge showoff," I grin, poking her arm. She tries to glare again, but her expression softens against her will. Her eyes flit off into the distance, and I patiently wait for her to speak as she nibbles on her inner lip.

"That's not the only reason," she admits hesitantly, giving me a wary glance. I nod for her to go on, and she sighs and shoves her hands into her pockets. "They remind me too much of my father." I do my best to keep my eyes from widening in surprise. It is extremely rare for her to freely mention him around me, much less with any emotion involved, and I don't wish to discourage it.

"Why mockingjays?" I ask gently.

"He used to sing to them when we went out hunting. His voice was so beautiful, the mockingjays would stop and listen. And then they'd take up his tune."

"What about you?" I probe. "Did you ever sing to them?"

She shakes her head again. "No, not to the birds. I liked listening to them echo him. He was so much better than me, anyway."

"Well, what about aft– when it was just you?"

"Nah," she shrugs. "Waste of time. Besides, I never felt like it." Despite her feigned nonchalance, I catch the hint of strain in her voice in those last few words.

"That's just stupid," I scoff. So much for being gentle, but tough love has always been more my thing. "He'd still want you to sing, wouldn't he?"

"You didn't know him," she snaps. "You barely know me." With that, she snatches the other axe out of my hand and pulls her arm back to throw.

"Whoa!" I shout, reaching across her body to impede her movement. "Hang on." I step in front of her and throw her a cheeky smile. "Word from the wise, if you're gonna throw an axe in anger, it's much more satisfying if you can make it stick." The fire in her eyes dampens to a deep smolder as I continue to grin up at her. I'm lucky I'm cute. "Here, let me show you?" I appeal, pointing at the axe. She reluctantly lowers her arm to hand it over, but instead I take her hand in both of mine, making a few small adjustments. "You over-rotated and your blade wasn't straight," I inform her, shifting her thumb's position on the handle. "Let it hang naturally from your hand before winding up. It should straighten itself out." She nods, and I step back. "Do it!"

Katniss casts me a wary glance, but wiggles her hand a little by her side and then cocks her arm. This time, she pitches the axe straight into the bark, which gives with a muted crunching sound. She blinks at the stuck axe while I let out an enthusiastic whoop and come clap her on the back.

"'Atta girl, Everdeen!" I cheer. "See? Channel your anger. Use it. Don't let it use you."

"Like when you shot that squirrel out of the tree our first time out here?" she smirks.

"Exactly." She raises her eyebrows, and I'm quick to point out, "I didn't miss, did I?"

I compel her to keep practicing for a while, but aside from the early hiccup, she makes few mistakes. When she starts getting bored, I teach her how to adjust her grip for slight variations in distance, and she quickly picks up on that as well. "That's good," I observe. "Changing distance is difficult, like if your target is rushing you or fleeing from you, but with your shooting experience, you might be good at judging that." I wink. "Maybe we'll work on that another time."

"So, you're going to run away from me and I'll throw an axe at your back?" She grins cheekily. "Sounds fun, Jo."

"Anna," I add pointedly.

The girl's face promptly falls and she turns to the tree and whips her arm aggressively, lodging the axe deep in the wood with a resounding grunt. Before I have the chance to comment, she wheels around and demands, "Why does Darius get to call you Jo?"

I exhale forcefully and turn my eyes up in thought. "Honestly, because he's a little shit and he just kept calling me that, and then one day I realized I didn't mind." Katniss arrests her face in a fairly neutral expression, but her gaze drops to the dirt. My mouth quirks affectionately and I give her the permission she's seeking. "You can call me whatever you want, Everdeen."

Her head snaps up in surprise. "Anything?"

"Yeah," I drawl, stepping forward and stroking the back of my hand down her jaw. "Anything." I doubt she meant it that way, but I can't help myself. Her mouth slips open a little but her eyes are unsettled as she turns a deep shade of red.

"I'm a little…" A little flustered, if nothing else. "I'm not used to this."

"Used to what?" I purr, trailing a finger behind her ear.

"All of this," she says, taking a tiny step back. I drop my hand. "Kissing, being touched like this. Having these kinds of feelings."

"I won't push you into anything you're not comfortable with, Everdeen. I'm not in a rush." In fact, I'd rather take things slow. But, again, I don't want to explain why, and I'm glad I have her inexperience as a convenient excuse. "You just tell me what you're ready for."

Katniss tucks some hair behind her ear and shyly admits, "I want to kiss you again."

My throat constricts in a tiny gulp that I have to hope she doesn't notice. My voice is steady when I tell her, "I'm not stopping you."

The gorgeous brunette bites her lip and hesitates a second before moving back toward me. She raises her hands to cup my cheeks, and I can feel the brush of her thumbs a centimeter from my ears as she leans in to make contact. I helplessly swallow again and gasp in a whiff of air before she steals it from me with her lips. Surprisingly, she doesn't, at least not with the aggressiveness she exhibited last time. This kiss is soft and sweet, so unlike the side of her I usually see, but it doesn't make me go any less weak in the knees. In fact, I think they go even weaker.

I take my time moving my arms to encircle her waist and draw her in closer. Why rush? This moment doesn't have that frenetic buzz brought on by the possibility of discovery, unlike last time. Our tongues ease into probing each other, but I'm mostly occupied by the feeling of our torsos melding together. Without my armor on, I'm treated to the heat of her body radiating through our shirts that we've stripped down to in the past hour.

Finally losing my breath – not to mention my mind – to the sensations a little, I hook my arms over her upper back and grasp her shoulders from behind, pulling myself up and into her lips. She tangles a hand in my hair and kisses me harder, and I unconsciously trail one hand down her back. That's when she releases this aroused little gasp into my mouth and my brain kicks back in. That's enough for now. Or else, very quickly, it won't be enough at all.

I pull back. Katniss slowly opens her eyes about as far as her puffy parted lips. "We have a lesson to finish," I tell her. She lifts an eyebrow, but doesn't argue.

When it starts getting dark, I offer to walk her back to the Seam. We don't hold hands, barely even talk. I pack my weapons away with hers so she can practice in my absence and I don't have to keep sneaking around with them. We slip under the fence and continue together into the meadow outside the western border of the Seam, but once we near the edge of the settlement, she slows down and eyes me awkwardly. "We should probably split up here," she says. "I know it's faster for you to cut through town, but maybe you could give me a little head start."

"Afraid of being associated with a Peacekeeper?" I sass her, admittedly to cover up my slightly wounded ego. "Anyone who's around the Hob already knows we're friends, or at least that we're friendly and we do business together."

Katniss fidgets nervously. "My mom doesn't know I've been meeting you on Sundays."

"So I'm like your secret girlfriend or something?" I tease. She blinks away and I grin to myself, but decide to go easy on her and break the tension. "Who does she think you're meeting?"

"It doesn't matter, it's none of her business. But if she knows it's a Peacekeeper, she might have something more to say about it."

"What could she do about it, anyway? Tell you not to go out in the forest?" I snort. "Yeah, that would work well."

Katniss gives her head a frustrated shake and insists, "I just want to avoid any awkward conversations about it, okay?" I can appreciate that. That one on Monday morning with Darius was awkward enough. We haven't talked about it since, but I can tell it's on his mind.

"It's fine, I'm just fucking with you," I assure her. Her mouth twitches sheepishly.

"I can't always tell," she admits. "You're hard to read."

"So are you. Sometimes."

"That's intentional." I give her a frustrated snort that she returns just as quickly. "I have my reasons, trust me."

"Like how that's a totally hypocritical thing of you to say?" I scoff. "How you don't trust anyone?"

"No, like how if people knew the kinds of things I think, I would have been strung up in a tree years ago," she snaps. She quickly peeks over her shoulder, then turns back to me and hisses, "Prim, dead or in the Community Home." This has the desired effect of shutting me up. Knowing any more would be a conflict of interest. I don't want to do Cray's bidding. I glance away uncomfortably, and that's when I notice Buttercup slinking toward us.

"Speaking of which," I say, gesturing toward the timely distraction. He hisses at us, making my eyebrows arch in mild amusement. "Wow, he really doesn't like visitors, does he?"

"It's me he doesn't like."

"Maybe he doesn't have good taste after all," I muse, smoothly shifting my gaze to the beautiful girl beside me.

"If I tried to drown you, you probably wouldn't like me either," she blandly mutters.

My jaw falls open and my forehead crinkles as I stare up at her. Sure, he's fucking ugly and kind of annoying, but what kind of person drowns an animal, much less a pet? I'm sure she wasn't planning to eat him. Mostly sure, anyway. Who knows what these Seam people get up to when they're desperate?

Katniss crosses her arms defensively, surely with at least some idea of what thoughts must be swirling around in my brain. "He was a sick kitten when Prim brought him home," she explains sharply. "The last thing I needed was another mouth to feed. Even a small one." Fair enough, I guess.

I nod down at the growling feline. "He's even bigger now."

"I'm a better shot now," she smirks. "Besides, Prim is really attached to him."

"Anything to keep her happy, huh?"

"More like 'anything to keep her alive,' but yeah." Katniss seems to lose her guard for a moment, a small affectionate smile sneaking onto her face. "My sister means the world to me." It's the glimpses of this Katniss that I find truly fascinating. The loving sister, the mourning daughter of a long-lost miner. The vulnerable side of the belligerent huntress. Buttercup comes up and rubs against my shins while I'm busy staring at his nemesis.

"Hey, buddy." I crouch down in an attempt to pet him, but he makes it difficult by continuing to circle me, pushing against me with the side of his neck. Leaving his scent on me, trying to claim me. He can get in line.

"He doesn't even like you, he's just doing that to spite me," huffs Katniss.

"So everyone's motives revolve around you, huh?" Katniss doesn't react, so I smirk to make sure she knows I'm joking. Well, half-joking. Even then, she just sneers half-heartedly before biting her lip and toeing the ground. I push myself to my feet, much to Buttercup's chagrin, and move closer to her. Closer than I would to most people. Katniss looks up, wary of my proximity, but doesn't pull away this time. "Maybe I'll come to the Hob on Tuesday?" I suggest. "So we can conduct some business?"

Katniss narrows her eyes suspiciously. "Is that a euphemism for something?" I let out a genuine and surprised laugh. What a kid.

"Well, it can be," I purr, leaning in just a touch closer and tipping my head so my mouth is only inches from her ear.

Katniss smirks and briefly drops her eyes to my lips, but then she glances into the neighborhood and pushes me away with a playful shove. "Shut up."

"That's not what I meant," I clarify after a brief chuckle. "I meant buying something off you is a good excuse to see you, without seeming suspicious."

Katniss has a better suggestion. "Or you could just arrest me again."

I can't help grinning, but put effort into at least making it look sly by squinting and stroking my chin mischievously.

"Tempting."

***o***

"Come on." I drag a finger around Darius's pebbled nipple.

"You're insatiable these days," he groans, quite accurately. I've definitely had more sexual energy since Katniss slept over. At least I have someone to burn it off with. Maybe that's horrible of me, but I'd feel even worse if I was directing that energy her way.

"I never thought I'd hear you complaining."

"I'm not. I'm impressed." He looks down at where I'm straddling him just above the hips. "But I think I'm out of juice for a bit."

I wrinkle my nose and mutter, "Gross."

"Ew, that's not what I meant."

"Mm, okay," I hum, casually grinding my hips down onto his stomach.

He groans in obvious frustration. "But when you put it that way, it's still true."

"Well, you don't need your juices for everything, do you?" I say teasingly, getting a grip on one of his hands and dragging it slowly up my thigh.

"No, not those ones," he admits with a smirk, putting his thumb right where I need it.

"Fuck." My breathing picks up and I start impatiently rocking against his hand. "Faster," I whisper. He tries, but his stamina leaves something to be desired at the moment. His fatigue is no one's fault but mine, and admittedly it is no accident. I don't want him tagging along when I go to the Hob to meet Katniss. I'd rather keep these two apart, at least in my presence. Especially because she hardly interacted with me the last time all three of us were at the Hob.

"Forget it, I'll do it." I knock his hand away and take over, and he watches wide-eyed from his prime view.

"You're not saving any of yours for our workout, are you?"

I cock my head. "I'll have you know, I have ample juices."

"I noticed," he smirks, eyes on the puddle surely forming on his stomach. "But still."

"I can still lift after this, as long as I get some food in me first," I assure him. "Some people don't take forever to recover."

"Hey," he protests weakly.

I don't even try to suppress my saucy grin. "It's not your fault you can't keep up," I patronize him. "I'm a beast. I was trained to be." With that, I reach behind me and find what I'm looking for. Sort of. "Oh, there you are," I smirk, coaxing him back to life.

Darius groans and lets his head fall back on my pillow. He enjoys this for a few moments before he chuckles and abruptly sits up, pulling both my hands away from their respective jobs. My breath catches even before he cradles my ass and slides his legs out from under it. He lowers me to the mattress and grins down at me from his hands and knees. I growl and tighten my legs around his waist, lifting my hips off the bed. He cocks a teasing eyebrow and traces a thumb under the curve of my breast.

"In a hurry?"

"Fuck you, Darius," I grunt, my hips involuntarily jerking upward. I don't tell him he's right. Katniss is probably at the Hob already.

"Cheeky, cheeky," he playfully scolds me. I want to slap him, and to be fair he might like that, but I know better ways of getting what I want.

"Stalling because you're not hard enough?" I posit accusingly. "Still?" Those dark eyes squint into indignant slits, as expected. I can always count on questioning his skills in the sack if I want to rile Darius up. I wonder what woman left him because he wasn't a good enough fuck. Maybe some other girl who prefers girls. Wouldn't that be terribly fitting?

"Isn't that just insulting yourself?" he scoffs.

"Hey, I did what I could with what I was given," I shrug. I'm really asking for it. Which conveniently covers the fact that I'm actually begging for it.

"Then I'll give you more," he growls. I bite my lips to hold in a smile. I knew he'd rise to the challenge. My teeth dig into the skin and thankfully hold in a lot more than a smile when he slides inside me. "That better?"

"Mm hm," I grunt painfully. He starts moving his hips, and I respond in kind, very enthusiastically. Taking his cues from me, he doesn't waste time taking it easy. Neither of us needs a warm-up. "Yes," I breathe, winding my fingers in his auburn curls. The tension in my gut builds quickly, as do my quiet whimpers, and I clamp my teeth around the boy's shoulder. It's not just because I need an outlet for my passion, nor is it solely because I don't want anyone outside the room to hear whatever might come out of my mouth. I'm truly afraid I might say the wrong name.

***o***

My boots kick up dust as I rush through the maze of sooty buildings under the haze of twilight, drips from my still-wet hair rolling down my back. The quick shower after Darius dozed off did little to cleanse me of the guilt roiling in my stomach, but at least it cleaned the boy off me physically before I could encounter the girl. I yank open the Hob's main door and skid to a stop on the dusty floorboards, eagerly scanning the warehouse for Katniss. I catch a glimpse of her talking to some brewer at the far end of the room and start toward her, resting my hands on my hips and panting a bit.

She notices me when I'm about halfway there, a relieved smile creeping onto her face. She barely excuses herself before making her way over, an air of amusement crossing her expression as she takes in my breathlessness.

"I was starting to think you weren't gonna show," she muses pointedly. "Sold out already."

I raise an eyebrow and glance around the market again. "So Gale's gone?"

"Yep," she smiles knowingly. "It's just us." I barely have time to return the smile before she adds, "Unfortunately, you no longer have a good excuse to be talking to me."

"Still came to buy from you, and it struck up a conversation," I reason. "It works."

"Fair enough," she nods. Then she puts on an impersonal tone and declares, "I'm very sad to inform you that I'm all out of game for the day, Agent."

"What a shame," I play along. My stomach loudly growls its displeasure and I laugh sheepishly while Katniss snickers. "For real," I admit. "I haven't eaten." I reach into my hip pockets to dig out some money.

"Maybe you should have thought of that before showing up late," she teases.

I shrug. "I got held up." My face crumples with a frown as I push my hands deeper and find my pockets are empty. I quickly check my jacket, but I already know there's nothing there. I really was in a rush. "Uh, whoops," I mutter.

"Forgot your money again?"

"Hey, that's only happened, like, once before," I lobby in my defense. "And I was really depressed that day."

Katniss snorts. "That's not the word I'd use for it."

"You're never gonna let me forget that, are you?" I sigh.

The poacher takes half a step closer and asks me quietly, "What, do you really want to forget?" Do I want to forget meeting her? No, never.

I shake my head shyly and bounce my eyes away. They land on Greasy Sae's stall nearer to the door. "Hey, can you spot me for a bowl of soup?" I ask, nodding toward the older woman. "I'm famished." I barely catch myself before I say I'm starving. Somehow, I don't think Katniss would appreciate the hyperbole. She smirks, surely enjoying this momentary role-reversal. "I'll pay you back, I promise."

Katniss gives me a quick scan from the waist up. "You'd better," she says, her voice low and raspy enough to make my loins spasm on the spot. She waits long enough to see me gulp and throw me a smug smile, and then and only then approaches Greasy Sae. She returns a couple minutes later with a bowl.

"Thanks," I mumble, glancing down into the slop.

Katniss scratches the back of her head. "I can't stay long," she sighs apologetically. "My mom will have dinner ready soon."

"That's okay," I shrug. Spending any time alone with her on an unusual day is a treat. There's nothing more I could ask for, except maybe a kiss goodnight under the burgeoning stars. But when I catch her narrowed eyes, the irritation in them tells me she misunderstood what I meant, so I try again. "I said I wanted to see you, didn't I?" I remind her calmly. She stares blankly. I smile and nudge her arm. "Well, I've seen you." Her stony expression suddenly cracks with a wide smile, much to her embarrassment, as evidenced by the way she bites her lip and drops her eyes to the floorboards she's toeing.

"I wish it was longer," she mumbles when she finally looks up. I snort, barely resisting the impulse to tell her I've said that one before. "What?" she snaps. I throw her a sultry look, and after holding my gaze for a moment, her eyes suddenly pop open. "Oh." She turns the cutest shade of red and I really wish we weren't in public so I could pull her in by the collar and kiss her right this instant. I don't think she'd turn me down even though I'm still laughing at her.

Despite her self-declared need to get going, Katniss lingers quite awhile, sitting on the crates by Sae's booth with me and chatting. She's never struck me as the type for small talk, but I think we could be talking about the weather and her eyes would still be bright, her lips still turned up. I can only assume, because that's true for me. I could stay with her all day and night and not get tired of her. I'm just wishing that I could physically get away with that when I notice her face change. I know that look. I've seen it in so many faces during my study of and training for the Games. She's identified an enemy. I turn my head so I can see the door and notice a group of guys in white. Including a redhead.

I immediately get up and start striding toward Darius, my anger probably showing in my posture. I'm not sure I'm being reasonable, but I can't help but think he clued in and is here to break up our date. That's probably an unfair assumption, but it doesn't matter. I'm angry with him for being here no matter what the reason. He hardly assuages my suspicions when he catches sight of me and doesn't look surprised to see me, but to be fair, where else would I be on a cold night? Even if he thought I would be here, maybe he just wanted to catch up. We did sort of have plans.

"Can I talk to you?" I ask, tugging on his sleeve. My voice is more tired than angry by now. He follows me to the corner and I demand, "What are you doing here?"

"You disappeared on me and I got invited out," he answers coolly. "What are you doing here? Thought I'd find you in the gym."

"Came for some game, but forgot money," I explain. Darius's eyes linger on the dregs of soup in my bowl, so I add, "I got treated."

"Uh huh," he mumbles, now focused on something behind me. I peek over my shoulder and spy Katniss approaching us. "Am I interrupting something?"

I shrug and raise the bowl pointedly. "Only my meal."

"Hey, Darius," I hear in a voice that sounds like Katniss's but is far too chipper to be hers. "How've you been?" She snakes an arm over my shoulders as she steps up beside me. I screw my eyes shut and groan under my breath. I don't know whether to be pissed off or turned on by the possessive gesture. Not that the two are mutually exclusive for me. I ease my eyes open to the view of Darius observing us warily.

"Okay," he answers haltingly. "You?"

"Great," she chirps, eyeing me up for a moment before doing the same to Darius and gesturing at his off-duty uniform. "Strange seeing you back in white," she muses nonchalantly. "You looked better in purple."

"You looked better in a towel," is his instant but flat retort.

"Darius!" I bark. His eyes flit over to me and I mouth the word, "Dude."

Katniss blushes the slightest bit, but otherwise betrays no emotion. "I'm sure you weren't expecting that," she acknowledges. "Sorry if I rattled you, just showing up on your territory like that." She strokes one of her long fingers over my shoulder. "Jo invited me in."

Darius arches an eyebrow and sneaks another glance at me. "I was concerned that there would be trouble, that's all," he replies. "Jo has a tendency to get caught when she breaks the rules." I level a death glare at him and hope he catches the sentiment I can't speak aloud: Don't you fucking dare.

"I would never get this girl in trouble," Katniss rebuts, playfully jostling me and squeezing me closer to her side. "Wouldn't want to risk getting her sent away. Sundays would be boring without her."

"Every day would be," he agrees pointedly. "So I hope you mean that. You might want to be more careful in the future."

"It wasn't her fault, Darius," I interject, mostly to remind both of them that I am a person, present in this conversation, and not just some post they're spraying with their urine. "You said so yourself."

"No, he's right," Katniss concedes. "I knowingly took a risk. But that's my whole life, isn't it?" She lets that hang there for a moment, and when it's met with silence, she concludes, "I'd better get going." She nods at the redhead. "Nice seeing you, Darius." She trails her hand across my shoulders and down to my wrist as she pulls away. "See you later, Jo," is the last thing she says before she turns and saunters toward the door.

I tuck my tongue under my lower lip and bite it, scoffing under my breath as I watch her walk away. I want to strangle or kiss the daylights out of her. Maybe both at once. Darius recaptures a fraction of my attention when he demands, "What the hell was that?"

"Fucking adorable," I muse, wearing an affectionate smile despite myself.

He watches the door close behind the girl and slowly turns back my way. "You told her," he states in a quiet but accusing tone.

"No, you did," I fire back. "She was in the room that morning after you saw us in the barracks." Darius blinks in surprise. "She slept over," I explain. "I didn't want you to know, so I told her to hide." I snort bitterly at the memory. "It turned out even more awkward than it would have had you known she was there."

A wry chuckle falls from the boy's lips. "You're always hiding something, aren't you?"

"I didn't want you to get the wrong impression."

He nods at the door Katniss just exited. "Was it the wrong impression?"

"She was sleeping when the rain stopped," I parry. "I didn't want to kick her out in the middle of the night."

"That's not what I asked you."

I roll my eyes and insist, "Yes, it was a platonic sleepover."

"There's nothing platonic about you two," Darius pronounces. I can't help but blink away. A moment passes, and then he quietly adds, "You've never let me sleep over." I sigh and catch his eye.

"It was a special circumstance," I say weakly.

"Was it?" The sadness in his tone is palpable, almost as evident as that in his deep brown eyes. They always make him look like a sad puppy, but there's an extra sheen in them now. This should only foster my guilt, and it does, but I can't help but react defensively again.

I plant my hands on my hips and scowl. "So much for no drama."

"Yeah, no shit," he sneers. He turns on his heel and marches back to his friends, leaving me standing there glaring at his back.

I almost walk out the door, but then remember the bowl and spoon I'm holding. I weave through the sparse crowd back to Greasy Sae's, where the old woman greets me with an odd expression. I can't determine if it's sympathy or amusement. My cheeks burn scarlet.

"What are you looking at?" I demand. I plunk the bowl down on the wooden counter, producing a satisfying echo.

"Nothing," she replies too innocently. She adds the bowl to a pile of dirty dishes and goes back to wiping down the counter. I glower at the top of her head but decide it's not worth getting into. I'd just end up embarrassing myself even more. Instead, I zip up my jacket, pull my hood up, and head out into the cold. Alone.

***o***

Wednesday is painful. I spend most of the morning shut away in my room, torn between my desire to avoid Darius and my need to resolve the tension between us. I can feel it through the wall. I'm usually the type to bury my discomfort and pretend things don't bother me, but Darius is essentially my best friend. He's been everything I could have asked for since I got here, and this is not a friendship I'm willing to see end because of my pride or how much I hate having to face the consequences of my actions. No, if he doesn't come to me, I'll go to him. Eventually.

After forcing down some lunch, I decide to go for a workout to burn off some of my jitters before approaching him. I cut through A wing and pop out of the barracks about thirty yards from the grungy little building at the south end of the compound. What with Twelve's well-deserved reputation of a lazy Peacekeeping force, it's usually deserted. I never even knew it was anything other than a storage shack until Darius offhandedly mentioned his legs were sore from heavy squats one day a few weeks into my stay. I yelled at him for never mentioning the gym before and demanded he take me as soon as we were off-shift. Unlike most civilians in the districts, I had actually been to such a facility before I joined the Peacekeepers. The candidacy program's headquarters houses a variety of fitness equipment along with its arsenal of weapons.

I swipe my card at the door and hang my coat up in the tiny lobby. I push into the workout room itself and find a couple of guys from the afternoon shift occupying our only bench press rack. Of course. I roll my eyes and start for the empty floor space across the room, but stop in my tracks when my eyes detect another Peacekeeper stepping away from the water fountain in the near corner. A redhead. I scowl at his mere presence for the second time in 24 hours and silently continue to my destination. Now I can't even attempt to have a relaxing workout.

I get down on the floor and start out with some push-ups from my knees. I've done maybe five by the time I hear the guys snickering. My face flushes. Don't these assholes know how to do a warm up? Probably not. I do a second set of ten to finish a quick one, then throw a pointed look toward the benches before pounding out some real push-ups. A few reps in, I start propelling myself off the ground and clapping my hands before catching myself and repeating the motion. I smile with satisfaction when I hear one of the assholes curse under his breath. I'm just finishing my third set when I hear, "Cocky little bitch." Oh, they have no idea.

My arms are already burning, but I march to the nearest wall and place my fingertips a few inches from it before flipping up into a handstand. My tank top slips down a bit as I ease my heels back against the wall for balance, and I catch all three guys staring at my exposed skin. I slowly lower the top of my head to the ground, shoot them a wink, and then straighten my arms under my full bodyweight.

"Are you fucking serious?" one guy says. The other is too busy gaping at my defined abs. Darius just laughs. I can only do this a few times, but when I flip back down to my feet, I dust my hands off and take a casual swig from my water bottle. I glance over at my friend, who's still smirking from his spot at the cable machine. I grin and go lift some heavy dumbbells for good measure.

The meatheads leave shortly thereafter, and I immediately take over the bench press. Darius wanders over while I'm changing the weight plates. "I think you scared them off, Agent Beastie."

I point at the clock on the wall. "They have to report soon anyway."

"I guess," he shrugs. "But that's not nearly as funny." Darius changes over the plates on the other side, and I nod gratefully and lie down on the bench. "Need a spot?" I wriggle into position and squint up at the boy now standing behind the bar and peeking over it.

"Is that an excuse to drop something heavy on my face?"

"Wouldn't be the worst thing I've ever got on your face," he deadpans.

I shake my head while trying to fight off my grin. "You're disgusting."

"You like it." I can't argue with that, so I clear my throat and grip the bar. Darius shadows my movement throughout the short set but doesn't touch the bar, as he knows I prefer. He waits until I've racked it before saying, "That's what I don't get about Katniss." My gut spasms painfully. "She's so innocent. I wouldn't think she'd be your type."

I don't really know what to say, so I just stand up and nod down at the bench. "You want a turn?" I suggest.

"I think I've had my turn," he asserts.

My stomach drops and a sudden chill settles over me. I try unsuccessfully to swallow the ache in my throat and ask with as much attitude as I can muster, "Really?"

Darius sighs and leans on the rack, averting his eyes to the bench. "I'm not doing this anymore, Johanna," he announces after a long moment. "I like you too much. I always liked you too much for this type of arrangement, but I told myself that I didn't, that it would be fine." He finally meets my eyes again. "It's not fine. I could fake just wanting to fuck you, but I can't share you with someone else. Especially when she's clearly the one who has you smitten." He shrugs too casually. "I never stood a chance." His admitted duplicity is bad enough, but this hint of a victim complex really irks me.

"'Never stood a chance'?" I mock him. "What, you're not even gonna put up a fight for what you want?" I scoff. "You're an even bigger wuss than I thought."

"Why do you even care? You like Katniss more, it's obvious." I simmer silently at that. One more thing I can't deny. "Don't be difficult about this. If you want to break things off with me, just do it. I'd think I'm doing you a favor."

"So you assume I want this over," I huff.

"Not yet." I catch his eye at that, and find his gaze every bit as meaningful as his tone. "You want to keep me around, for now." His mouth quirks with the emotion he's trying to suppress. It affects his voice instead. "For a couple more months, right? Until she's old enough for you to have your way with her without feeling guilty."

A sudden head rush threatens to bowl me over, and I finding myself clinging to the weight rack in an effort to stay upright.

"Fuck you," I spit. My hand trembles in its vice grip on the metal. "Is that really what you think of me? That I'm some kind of whore who strings people along for sex and preys on minors?"

"No," he states firmly. "If you really preyed on minors, you wouldn't feel guilty about what happened with Clove. Or about having feelings for Katniss."

"I should never have told you about Clove," I whisper to the floor. "I never thought you'd throw it in my face like this."

Darius's face softens marginally. "Johanna, I didn't mean it like that," he assures me. He reaches out to touch my shoulder and I pointedly lean back. He sighs. "Sorry. I didn't mean taking advantage of her. I meant, like, 'consumating your undying love for her,'" he drawls with air quotes. I narrow my eyes dangerously, and he doesn't even blink.

"You know, I didn't force you into this," I remind him. "You offered. You have no right to be mad at me for having feelings for someone else while also sleeping with you. Hell, you outright said I could use you to get over Clove."

"That's different," he snaps. "That could go somewhere, or at least last. It's not like this, where it has an expiration date."

"Maybe I wasn't planning on breaking it off with you then," I retort. "Maybe I actually really like what we have together, did you ever think of that?"

"Then that's not fair to either of us," he states unequivocally. "It's fucked up enough already, what with you fucking the life out of me and then running off to see your little girlfriend. Imagine if you were fucking both of us." His eyes flicker and he quickly adds, "Actually, don't."

I wouldn't, though. At least, not for long. As much fun as the idea sounds from a distance, I know that once I am really with Katniss, I won't want to be with anyone else. Once we're serious, she'll fulfill my emotional needs, and I can fulfill my sexual ones on my own. But I'm not really with her, not seriously or officially. And that's probably my own fault. I've been fucking her around. Both of them. I had my reasons, of course. Katniss was the dangerous choice. She still is. But I know now that that's the choice I'm ultimately going to make, as ill-advised as it may be. Not that I'm sure I ever even had a choice in the matter.

I take a long look at Darius's face, the hurt in his eyes, the anger in his brow. He's right. It's time this was over. That doesn't mean I want it to be.

"Katniss isn't my girlfriend," I sigh. "Not exactly."

"Well, she made it very clear that she thinks you're hers." He shakes his head, dropping his eyes to the ground. "I knew I shouldn't have believed you when said there was nothing going on between you two."

"There wasn't," I protest feebly. "Things have changed."

"And you weren't gonna tell me. Just like you wouldn't have told her about us." He snorts. "Whatever we are."

I tilt my head and catch his eye ardently, silently pleading with him to take my next words seriously. "I legitimately like you, Darius," I insist. "Always have. And if it weren't for…" I trail off and bite my lip. "Maybe it could be different."

"I doubt it," he snaps. When I glare at him, he turns a hand up and prods, "Have you ever been in love with a guy?" Well, no. I don't think so. But I don't know that I couldn't be, and if I don't know, neither can he. Still, he infers, "Maybe that's just not something you want from males."

"Tell yourself whatever you need to," I scoff. I refrain from rubbing his face in his own insecurities as a lover. I've hurt him enough already. "Besides, who said anything about love? That wasn't part of our arrangement." I squint curiously, taking another good look at the guy. "Wait, you're not in love with me, are you?"

"No. But I could have been." We both let that sit there a moment, neither of us daring to delve further into it. Finally, he exhales heavily and massages some tension from his brow under the guise of wiping away sweat. He braves another look at my face and concludes, "This has been fun while it lasted, but I think we should just be friends."

The knot in my stomach grows, even though I know he's right. But I can't bring myself to say that. I don't know what to say. I think I must channel my inner Katniss, because what escapes my mouth is a weak, "I thought we were."

Darius's mouth twists into a wry smirk. "You're right. We are."

A/N: Thanks to D7P for all her help with this chapter. And to you, the readers, for your patience and reviews and continued support. This is my fun pet project on the side, and I'm glad it too has a following.