Title: The Hunger Games - Broken Arrows
Author: ohmyklaine
Chapter: 3/?
Summary: A The Hunger Games/Glee crossover. Following the destruction of modern society, a terrifying reality TV Show is taking place. 24 teenagers are sent to an arena in a Gladiator-style survival Game. There is only one rule: Kill or be killed. It's the 25th Hunger Games, marking this the 1st Quarter Quell, and a cruel twist shakes the nation of Panem to the core.
Ships: Brittana, Klaine, Faberry, Neff.
Main Characters: Brittany, Santana, Nick, Jeff, Kurt, Blaine, Puck, Finn, Rachel, Quinn.
Do I Need To Have Read The Hunger Games To Understand?: No.

Authors Note: Again, I am abundantly grateful for all the positive reviews, messages, etc. It really helps me produce these chapters more quickly. :) I was going to like, for the next few chapters, do the Reaping of 2-3 Districts at a time but, clearly, my bias towards Nick and Jeff is showing in this, hence why I thought best to seperate XD (Neff OTP tho.)

Three

The Reaping.

District Five:
Nick.

There's no use even attempting to hide my fear at this point. My legs have been shaking for the majority of the walk into the town centre, and I could barely speak up when signing in with the Peacekeepers - Jeff had actually had to clarify what I'd said.

"It'll be okay," he reassures, giving my hand a squeeze. He always tries to put on a brave face for me, protect me, but his sweaty palms suggest that he's just as scared as I am. Ordinarily, I'd point this out to him, but this doesn't feel like the time nor place for that. I just look up at him, and attempt a small smile.

"Yeah. We'll be fine."

"Come on!" my Mom calls, from a few metres away, clutching Fred's arm quite obviously so hard I'm surprised it hasn't fallen off yet. Jeff's parents are also with them, not showing any emotions that I can read - but, that's typical of them.

"It's about to start." I gulp, scanning the large crowd of people here, all just as apprehensive as we are. Now, I don't know who I'm most fearful for. Instinctively, of course, it's Jeff. Then I remember that Fredrick is twelve now. And then there are the people from school, from the market, from the trade and from choir… whilst I wouldn't class many of them as friends (not many people are lining up at my door to be my best bud, trust me), they're acquaintances, people I would still flinch to see killed live on television.

Phipha Mollins, our district's escort, is tapping on a microphone, up on the large stage that has been set up. She's a strange woman if I've ever seen one. Must be taking fashion advice from the people in the Capitol, with their dyed skin, whiskers, and big hair. Thankfully, her accent is understandable - even if she does try to make her voice sound high-pitched. "District Five! Welcome to the official first day of the 25th Hunger Games. Send your name, show your pride!"

"Worst slogan ever."

I have to laugh as Jeff mutters this in my ear. For one, he's hissing at the s's, clearly mocking poor Phipha and her beloved Capitol people, and two, he says it every year. Humour is the only thing that keeps us halfway sane at this time of year, and we don't dare think what would happen if we try to take things seriously.

Plus, he's right. Send your name, show your pride. Who came up with that? It refers to the tessara. Basically, it gives a person eligible for the Games the chance to enter their names more than once, in exchange for a meagre supply of grain and oil. Apparently it shows 'pride' for your District in wanting to be the one chosen for the Games, rather than that we're all starving and need as much food as we can scrape together.

Really, a pointless slogan, considering there's no paper slips with your name written on them this year. Random selection means no tesserae. We get by, thank god, as we're a relatively richer District. We don't rely on it like Eleven and Twelve must.

"You, the residents of District Five," Phipha is speaking again. "Have chosen the tributes you would like to compete in the first Quarter Quell." her eyes are sparkling with excitement. It's sick. "You have chosen two male tributes! How unusual, but of course, not against the rules this year."

I glace at Jeff again. He's keeping a straight face, but the corner of his mouth his quivering. This makes me all the more uneasy, but I can't just think about myself right now. I stand up on the tips of my toes, so that my mouth his level with his ear, and whisper to him. "Shh. It's going to be okay."

After all, he needs me to be strong for him, too.

"I have in my hands, the names of the two tributes." she's frowning. There's obviously something written that's troubling even her. "Oh my, they're from the same family!"

Time is slowing all around us. I can practically hear my own heartbeat, the blood rushing through my veins. Everyone in the square is dead silent, frozen, teetering on the edge of sanity.

Phipha's lips are moving, but it takes me a few seconds to comprehend what she's saying.

"Fredrick and Nicholas Travern."

Jeff.

This is worse than having my own name called out.

My legs feel like they're about to collapse underneath me, my heart like it's on the verge of crashing through the walls of my chest, my head like it's about to explode. Nick's name. Loud and clear.

Nick. My Nick. The person I love more than anyone in the world.

It's the first time something clearly upsetting has happened and the boy beside me doesn't lash out. Doesn't try to kick, punch, attack the closest thing in the vicinity. He just lets go of my hand, as if he's been electrocuted. I watch, as if in slow motion, him and his brother walk towards the stage. He doesn't say anything to me, doesn't even look me in the eye.

I want to call out something to him. And as they reach the steps, I do.

"STOP!"

Hundreds of eyes are suddenly on me.

"Stop! No, no… I… I volunteer!"

Now people are gasping. Volunteers for the arena are rare in non-career Districts, there hasn't been one here for the last ten or so years.

And here I am. Doing it. I don't even know what comes over me, but I just know I have to be close to Nick. I rush forward towards him, grabbing his arm in desperation.

"Wh-what? Are you saying you're volunteering?" Phipha Mollins is struggling to comprehend the situation. "It is usually customary to…"

"I don't care!" my voice sounds as high-pitched as hers now. "I don't give a damn about what's customary, THIS is not… I… I volunteer."

"For who's place, exactly?"

I definitely haven't thought this through. My look travels to Nick by default, but his expression is full of pain. He's shaking his head. "Don't do this Jeffy… please… not you…"

It's killing me, but I ignore his barely audible plea, and look up at Phipha. I don't know what to say. If I went in place of Nick, I'd be saving him, and I love him more than anyone. But I'd also be up against Fredrick, I'd be sending him into the arena. I can't do that. He's too important to Nick.

If I go in place of Fred… my boyfriend is going into the Games.

But I can keep him safe. I can make sure he wins.

"Fredrick Travern." I announce, my voice cracking now.

Now the murmurs are starting. Because people know that Nick and I are dating. "Are you sure?" the escorts voice is saying.

"P-positive."

"Jeffrey!" it's the unmistakable shout of my Mother. Naturally, it's not a delirious outcry of sorrow or grief, it's just a stern call.

"Your name, please?"

"Je-Jeffrey M-Michaelson."

Nick.

"Please give a warm welcome to our Tributes - Nicholas Travern and Jeffrey Michaelson!"

We're standing on opposite ends of the stage, but as usual I can hear Jeff's thoughts clear as day. No doubt, he can hear mine too. Phipha Mollins is speaking, but her words are like white noise to me. I'm completely paralysed, because all I can think is, why? Why would Jeff do this? He was safe, he knows that's all I care about, that he's fine…

And he knows my brother is unable for the arena. He knows it would kill me. That's why he took Fredrick's place.

I look over at the tall blonde, even though it causes a great burst of pain in my chest, and I'm supposed to be looking at the people of my District. I can't let him die.

Jeff.

I'm fidgeting the whole time Phipha speaks about the Quarter Quell. I really don't want to hear it. My fingers find the long, loose silver chain hanging around my neck. I know straight away this is the token from home I want to take into the arena.

It was Nick's. When we first got together, after a long time of loving each other, he'd taken off the necklace he always wore, with a blank dog tag hanging off the end. "This," he'd said, leaning forward and clasping it shut behind my neck. "Is yours. As a reminder that you're my one and only."

I'd taken the tag into my hand, and turned it over, delicately. Which was when I noticed the inscription. It must have been incredibly difficult for Nick to find someone who could press these words into it so perfectly.
Your Guardian Angel.

They aren't just clichéd words. Although the allusive 'Modern Ages', as they're referred to in our History books, were completely destroyed, some scarps remain. Nick and I found lyrics. Words, to melodies, music. That's where they came from. A song we had discovered, which we believe to be called Your Guardian Angel.

So, the next day, I set off first thing in the morning to find someone who could print words on items, and found out that Mr. Blecker from down the road had a sort of machine that allowed him to do so. Where he'd gotten it from is unsure, and I didn't think to ask. I gave him all my savings, and in return, on my own bracelet, that's made of rare leather and ties together with black string, he pressed on the words
Even if saving you sends me to heaven.

Those words are just so damn appropriate now, aren't they?

When I presented it to Nick, he'd actually become teary eyed. So did I. And we held each other for hours, promising each other everything under the sun, and really the only thing that mattered. I will love you until my dying day.

Now, I'm looking over at him on the other side of the stage, and he's fiddling with the strings on his bracelet.

We have something that binds us together, no matter what happens in the arena.

Next Time on The Hunger Games - Broken Arrows: Goodbyes are hard, especially if you're never coming back.