We leave each other alone for the rest of the day. Juniper needs the time to recover. I just don't feel like talking yet. Both of us at least catch a little bit of sleep, but not enough to face the next morning refreshed and ready to go.

As we split the last small piece of apple—Trucy's portion—I say, "Two tributes left."

Looking down, Juniper turns her meager breakfast in her fingers. "I guess... it was never going to happen after all. Three of us winning, I mean."

"It's to be expected." Swallowing the last piece of food I'll probably have in the arena—possibly in my life—I look out at the mountain across from us. "If there's one thing I've learned from being in the Games, it's that it's not about getting a victor, or even entertainment. Unless the Gamemakers don't mind doing a poor job." I shut my eye. "It's about showing us how powerless we are. Each and every district, and each and every person in them. Letting more than one tribute win wouldn't work towards that. So they wouldn't let it happen. Even if two of us are alive now... There's no way they'd be happy to keep it that way. They'd wait through a week of dull footage to let me die of infection if they had to."

Her hands clench around her knitting needles. "You... You're right... I should have figured that out b-before I ever tried what I did. Although I wonder if I really didn't put the pieces together. I could have just refused to think about it..." She looks to me. "When I was reaped, I didn't know what to do. One of my friends coming with me, and another friend that I soon made, just made it worse. I... I wanted to live. Of course I did. And I wanted them to live, too. But... But deep down, I knew it was impossible. Robin and Hugh, the Capitol never would have let them win. Neither of them was even supposed to be here in the first place...!"

Neither? I understand Robin, but... Was Hugh also a girl? Or actually, there was that comment about him not taking up archery until he was sixteen. There's no way he could have gotten that good in two years, self-proclaimed genius or not. Was he too old to be reaped?

"And me... I'm not the kind of person who would become a victor. Between my lungs and how frail I am overall... I didn't have any hope. The only reason I made it as far as the feast was because of Robin and Hugh, and the only reason I'm still here is the rest of my friends—" she flushes—"including you, of course. I... never really believed I would make it this far, as hard as I tried to work towards that dream... I was just avoiding the fact that my best friends and I would all end up dead. I threw myself into the plan wholeheartedly a-and tried to convince anyone we came across to try to convince myself... I dragged everyone into this impossible plan because of my own weakness, and—! And how differently would things have gone otherwise? Have I caused any deaths because of what I wanted to believe? Would—would you have killed Thena if you hadn't known about our hope?"

Tearing up, she looks me in the eye, and I draw back a bit.

She shrinks back more. "I'm sorry. That's far too sensitive a subject for me to be—"

"No, I'm just thinking." I roll my eye up. "I don't know. Would Apollo Justice have killed Athena Cykes if there was no hope of an exception to the single victor rule? I'm not sure. I wouldn't even think he would have killed her when he did. So obviously I'm not the best person to predict something like that."

Juniper pulls her hands closer together. "What...? Apollo, are you... feeling okay?"

I interlace my fingers. "You mean me? I'm just the same as ever. Nothing seems to be bleeding right now, so that's probably good. I am a little thirsty."

"All... All right..." She helps me with the water bottle, although I unscrew the last of it by myself.

She watches me for a moment before looking away with a sigh.

"But it's actually possible for you to live after all, huh?" I say once I have to stop for breath.

"Yes, there's a chance." She pulls her knees to her chest. "It helps that we were in the mountains, but I still... I still don't..." She trails off into light coughing.

"Don't what? Want to? Because you know it would be easy for you to win at this point. I'm sitting here all but helpless, and you have the only weapon between the two of us."

Stiffly, she pulls out the knife that Trucy left her, her hand shaking as she stares down at the blade. It's not a very big one, but it's certainly more than a bread knife. I wonder how long it takes to die from a wound that size? Or would it be better—quicker—if it would reopen my wounds? I'm sure I could die from that. I came close enough after jumping through that purple light.

Juniper's hand continues to clench around the knife handle, the blade pointed away from her and perpendicular to me. She gives me a few glances between her observation of the metal, but she's still looking at it when she tears up. After shutting her eyes for a moment, she sniffs and turns towards me. Her right arm comes up, her hand coming towards me with the knife.

But the handle is what's aimed at me.

"I-I..." She's still shaking hard as she tries to smile. "I can't kill you, Apollo...!"

I watch the knife without taking it. "Do you mean you can't kill me, or you can't kill Apollo? That wasn't very clear."

"What are you talking about?!" She continues to hold out the knife, her arm shaking harder. "I know this has been terrible for you, so terrible you've started to shut down, but..." She presses her palm to her chest, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Apollo, you're still in there somewhere! I believe that with all of my heart! I know it must be hard for you to see, but, please, if we have ever been friends, take my word for it. You're still Apollo Justice, and..." She sniffles. "And you'll be fine..."

My eyes turn back to the knife. A drop of sweat is sliding down the side of the handle where she grips it. Still she holds it out for me.

I take it from her and wipe the handle on the bottom of my shirt. "You know... Apollo wouldn't dream of killing you. So if he really is here somewhere... I shouldn't be able to do it, anyway. So, here. Just take it back if you want."

I point the handle her way this time, but she shakes her head madly.

"I-I already told you! I can't kill you..."

I turn the handle between my fingers, slowly enough that I won't drop it. "Does that mean you want to die?"

She wrings her hands, meeting my gaze. "I... Of course I don't want to... But if that's what it takes, I can't choose any other option. B-besides... I never thought I could win, anyway... So I've already tried to come to terms with it. And..." She tries harder to smile. "You saved my life, Apollo. I-if anyone has the right to take it away, then it would have to be you, wouldn't it?"

"But what if that Apollo isn't here after all? Then what right do I have to kill you?"

"I've already told you, I know he is!" She takes a deep breath. "We're in the middle of the Hunger Games. People here murder each other right and left without having any right to do so. I can understand completely if you don't want to be one of those people, if you refuse to kill me. If that's what you decide, I'll do my best to support you through whatever the Gamemakers unleash on us. But, if you need a reason... I've already given you one. It's also self-defense, and keeping me from—f-from killing the one I love if it were to come down to it." She grips her wrist, the cloth of her jacket squeezed tight between her hands. "I'll... understand either way. It's your choice."

My choice, huh? What do I choose? Do I end an innocent girl's life, possibly for the second or third time? Or do I let what's left of myself die here once the next attack comes? Do I want to live? Would I rather die some kind of hero?

That's a joke. Apollo would have died a hero if the explosion had killed him. But me? I'm not even remotely a hero. I tried to save Hugh, but that was no good. I certainly didn't save Athena from anything. And the others I just turned my blind eye to. Even if I left things up to the Gamemakers and was killed, it would be more passive than heroic.

I could kill myself. Use the knife in my hands to reopen my wounds myself and bleed out here. It's an option. Not a very pleasant one, but how much more pleasant is Juniper's death at my hand? Nothing's pleasant. Nothing's good. Nothing's just. It's only two kids wishing they were never born.

So, if there's no right decision... What will I choose? Who lives, and who dies? Why is this kind of decision in my hands to begin with? I obviously... can't handle it. Or, Apollo couldn't handle it, and that's how I showed up. What about me, then? Can I kill myself? I'm sure I could. Can I kill Juniper? If she's not fighting back, it would be simple. As far as my conscience... I don't know. If it's still there, it's talking through a fuzzy screen that hides the words. I'm on my own.

If I look at it from a purely logical standpoint... Morally, Juniper should be allowed to win. She's been hurt, but with support she could make it. She's stronger than she looks—stronger than she seems to think she is. Pragmatically, it's nonsense to wish death upon myself. I don't want to die. My feelings may have gone grey, but I'm sure of that still. And the only way for me to live, for certain, is to murder Juniper.

So, which side wins? Neither is speaking very loudly. Certainly not enough for me to hear one over the other. What, then? Do I just choose arbitrarily? Are life and death really things to be handled the same way I would decide on my lunch?

Then again, the Capitol has made it like that.

So if I choose that way, am I just a slave to the Capitol? It's not like I'm doing it for them. I'm not really doing it for anyone. Maybe I could say it's for the memory of my friends, or even for Juniper. Honestly, that barely concerns me anymore. I guess I have a little joy in having had friends. A little shock and sorrow at their passing. A little anger at the Capitol for killing them. But not enough to move me. Not enough for me to dedicate my actions to them.

It's just about me at this point. Juniper said it herself. It's my choice. It's about what I want to do. And I...

I don't want to die.

"Okay." I'm barely able to open my eye to look at Juniper. "I'll do it. Get ready."

She pales, looking close to fainting—it would be easier on her—but she swallows and nods. "I-I'm sure you know this, but make it quick, p-please..." She shuffles towards me, shoulders hunched as she grips her elbows. "A-and not across the neck... if that's all right..."

"Got it." I scan her for a second—she's shaking hard, but I haven't heard so much as a weak cough from her yet—and decide on a stab to the heart. That would end things quickly, right?

That will end things... I still can't help feeling this isn't the way it should end. But Juniper gave me the choice, and I want to live. I'm too tired to turn back now.

Without being sure of my reasoning, I first position myself right in front of her, face to face, and pull her into my arms. She gasps but stays otherwise silent, gripping one of my shoulders.

You don't want to kill the man you love, huh? But how is it so much better for him to be killing you?

Neither way's any good, is all. I can at least give her this much before the next atrocity.

I let the hug last a little longer before tightening my grip on the blade. After running my other hand along her back a bit, I find a good spot between two ribs that should be about right. So... Here goes.

I push the knife down, and Juniper lets out a sound, cowering and tightening her grip, before I've even gotten through the fabric of her jacket.

What am I doing...?

The sudden feeling passes back into emptiness, and I shut my eye.

This isn't the way it should end. Where I am now, I can't hope for much good, but I should have at least kept it from coming to this. I shouldn't have made this happen. I should have stopped myself—Apollo should have stopped himself... from a lot of things.

But I can't change course anymore. I lost that option a long while back.

The air in my throat freezes as the knife drives home.