There was a point in the Games where everyone hit the wall, a point where you started to drown in the vastness and confusion of the sheer mental exhaustion. It wasn't a matter of if you reached it, but when.

All things considered, Emily should have broken down long ago. Even she would readily admit that; she was possibly the least prepared tribute in the history of the Games. No one believed that she had any business in the Arena (not even her, if she were honest with herself). Whether because of that or in spite of it, she didn't find herself running out of will to live until much later than anyone could have anticipated.

When she finally did, it hit her like a ton of bricks and there was nothing she could do but lay down in her path and let the sheer enormity of hopelessness overtake her.

Ian was at her side, trying his best to get her back on her feet – he had to keep her alive until it was only the two of them if he wanted the sponsor gifts to continue. There was only a handful of them left and by his best estimates, the Gamemakers would be anxious to get things over with in the next day or two. He only had to keep Emily going for a short while longer and then she would no longer be his responsibility.

"Up you get, Love, we can take a break once we reach water," he promised, attempting to get her to support some of her own weight, seeing as she was currently like a ragdoll in his arms.

"What's the point?" she asked quietly, her eyes hazy and unfocused.

Ian sighed and glanced over his shoulder, uncomfortable with how exposed they were. Part of him was tempted to just leave her there if that was what she wanted.

As if reading his mind, she told him, "Go ahead and leave me. It's what you want to do."

"I don't... I never..." she started to contradict, but she didn't let him finish.

"Or better yet, kill me."

The frankness of it took him aback. Even though they all went into any alliance with the knowledge that they would have no choice but to kill each other before the end, there seemed to be a moratorium of sorts when it came to speaking of it.

"It's what you've been planning from the very beginning, isn't it?" She sat up and looked him in the eye, all traces of her defeatedness suddenly gone. "Tell me the truth," she demanded.

"It isn't that simple, Love." He kneeled before her and took her hands in his, doing his best to become his most charming self.

"It is simple," she contradicted, "It's very simple. You lead Matthew and Cindi to their death. You killed Derek, didn't you? You looked me right in the face and took me for a fool!"

She was asking, but she didn't really need the answer.

Something in him seemed to snap in that moment. "You want the truth? Fine. Only one of us was going to make it out of here alive. You knew that, I knew that, they knew that. Your mother knew that. That's why she asked me to look after you – she wasn't just going to let you throw your life away for some boy from District Nine. She promised she'd make my life a little easier in the Arena if I kept you alive. And that's exactly what I did. And I'd do it again."

She pressed her balled up fists against her eyes and gritted her teeth, trying to suppress the urge to lash out and hit something. "I'm such an idiot," she muttered.

"You can't have honestly believed that the Capitol was going to let one of their own die while letting some rebel descendant's whelp survive."

Ignoring what he'd just said, she snapped, "I can't believe I let you sweet talk me into believing that you actually gave a damn about anyone but yourself! Things were going just fine until I crossed paths with you and then my own stupidity threw a wrench in the plan. I fell for all your lines, I wanted to believe you actually liked me, but all you cared about was earning my trust so that you could kill the people who I cared about!"

The accusations flew rapidly and he had a feeling that they were going to lose him a lot of sympathy from the viewers, but he couldn't bring himself to deny them, seeing as how they were all extremely true.

She ran her fingers through her hair in frustration, knotting her fingers in the tangled locks. "I killed them," she breathed, "I might as well have given the death blow...it was my own recklessness that brought their death upon them."

He opened his mouth to say something – anything – that might quell her distress, but he couldn't quite manage without admitting the blame lay purely with him.

She turned to him, her eyes wide and glistening with approaching tears. "If you ever cared for me at all, I'm begging you...kill me. Please. I can't live knowing that I let them die. You'll get what you wanted, you'll win. I don't want to win if it means carrying this guilt with me."

It was true that it had been his plan to eliminate all the others and then, when it was too late for her mother to do anything to stop him, he would kill her, leaving him the winner. But what he hadn't counted on was growing to feel so attached to her. He knew how everyone viewed the tributes from District Two: heartless, soulless automatons bred solely for the purpose of killing. He supposed he had more or less lived up to that expectation thus far, but he was having trouble disentangling himself from the confusing web of thoughts as far as Emily was concerned.

He was no longer sure he could kill her, now that it had come down to this.