Alrighty, guys-here's chapter 14! I know, it's pretty short-as was the last one. To be honest, I originally envisioned this as part of chapter 13, and after a while I'll probably merge them. They're just too short on their own, and I don't want to go any further than this until chapter 15. So I'll leave them separate for those of you who already read chapter 13 (so you don't have to go back and re-read stuff) but in a couple of chapters I'll backtrack a little and stick this onto the end of chapter 13. So for now, just envision this as the continuation of the same chapter! Haha.

Anyway, thanks so much for those of you who have been reviewing! 33 reviews is more than I've ever gotten...probably because this is the longest story I've written, to date.

'Kay-on to the good stuff. Enjoy!

The silence lasts only a couple seconds—just long enough for my heart to take up permanent residence in my shoes—but it might as well be all night. I fidget nervously as Cato rises to his feet, muscle by muscle as though in slow motion. Finnick stares him down, the fire in his gaze enough that a lesser man—perhaps a more intelligent man—would turn tail and run back to the second floor. Unfortunately, Cato is not that man, and he arrogantly meets Finnick's gaze, steps forward to stand abreast of me. If my heart could go any lower, it would be in the floor tiles, beating so hard the whole building would rattle.

"We were just having a chat," Cato shrugs. I shoot him a glance, lean away from him. The last thing I want is for Finnick to make something of this that it's not.

"Not the wisest thing to do on the night before the games." Finnick's remark is clipped, and it's hard to tell if he's angry with me, or with Cato…or both.

"What would you have us doing?" Cato saunters forward, feigning innocent curiosity. "I mean, I get bored of sharpening weapons after a while, and I'm not allowed to kill anyone yet." Cato's harsh words, so stark against our earlier conversation, snap me out of my frigid, observatory state and I shuffle over to stand with Finnick. He affords me little more than a glance, caught up in his bristling exchange with Cato.

"I'd have Tobi sleeping, for one. I couldn't care less how you occupy your time…though I'm sure you can come up with something better than a late-night 'chat' with someone who might kill you." For unknown reasons, I find heat rising to my face. Who'd have thought murder was such an intimate concept…but my attentions are quickly drawn to where Cato and Finnick have practically begun squaring off. Each of their almost-calm retorts has been accompanied by a step forward, so that they stand nearly nose to nose with one another. As much as I dislike the conflict, now may be the time for me to step in…

"I don't think that one could kill me if she tried," Cato scoffs just as I step forward. He waves a hand at me, a look of scathing contempt across his features. I freeze, eye him carefully. Finnick steps just a hair towards me. "I mean look at her: short, bony, a little dense. She could barely lift a sword last time I checked. No, no," he leans forward, looks me dead in the eye. "If one of us is going to kill the other, I think you've got it backwards." His gaze flickers for a moment, and I find a sad little smirk dawning on my face. Poor Cato; he's made it profoundly clear that his conscience is completely on the fence about being the killing machine he wants to be—that I want him to be.

"Watch out, Two," I begin casually. "You know what they say about underdogs."

"I don't think you have it in you to kill, Four. When the time comes I'll snap you like a twig." His lip curls in a slight snarl, and for whatever reason my heart takes the elevator back to my ribcage. I'm okay with this—I could even be classified as happy about it. He's made it easy, again—easy to see him as a killer, a non-human; a destructible object.

"We'll see, Two," I whisper, turn to Finnick. "Come on—let's go back." He nods with a glare at Cato, puts a hand on my shoulder to gently push me ahead of him. I don't turn around as we round the corner, knowing that the hallway with Cato in it disappears just as the door to my chambers reappears. I don't ponder the odd light in Cato's eyes during our exchange of threats—I'm more than happy to remain on the surface of that particular dialogue and leave it at face value.

Finnick remains silent as we walk back through the door. This time around, the sunken living room and elevated dining room are dimly lit, so my bumbling rampage is not offered a chance to repeat. Thankfully, in light of my little outing, the suffocating atmosphere is gone. Or perhaps it simply dissipated along with the darkness when Finnick turned on the lights. I've never been afraid of the dark, before…but I've never had to kill anyone, either.

We've just descended the little stairs to walk through the living room when Finnick finally speaks. He's been a silent thunder cloud trailing behind me, and I can't decide whether I'm relieved or terrified now that he's decided to break the silence.

"Sit," he says simply. I turn to face him, see where he's pointing to the long, teal couch along the far edge of the room. With an inaudible sigh, I pad around the little cedar coffee table, bang my knee against one of the corners, and sit gingerly on the stiff cushion. All I want now is to go to sleep—it must be close to three in the morning by now, and tomorrow will be huge—but I suppose it's better for Finnick to comment now than, say, tomorrow at breakfast.

"Finnick, I—" I try to defend myself before he can comment, but he holds up a hand, so I obediently stop, look sheepishly down at my lap where my fingers have nervously knotted themselves.

"Tobi, I'm not going to yell at you or scold you or anything like that—it's not my job. I'm not here to make rules for you or lay down the law." He sighs heavily, relaxes from his intimidating, arms-crossed posture to sink into a cream chair cattycornered to the couch. He leans forward, elbows on his knees, fingers splayed and pressed together.

Suddenly I wish he would yell at me; it would be better than this quiet disappointment. "I'm your mentor, Tobi; that means I'm here to advise you, keep you safe and healthy and prepare you for the games. And what I just saw out there," he points over his shoulder toward the door to the hallway. "That was something I can't leave unchecked." He meets my gaze steadily. I can't hold it long.

"It wasn't what you think," I murmur. "It wasn't anything, really. I just went out to get some air and ran into Cato…" It sounds like a pretty feeble explanation, and I'm not surprised when Finnick's eyebrows go up.

"Really. So, instead of sleeping like a normal person, you just decided to go wander around in the middle of the night, and just happened to run into a Career from District 2? He shouldn't even have been on this floor!" At last, a touch of anger is seeping into Finnick's words, and I realize by the look in his blue eyes how worried he was. I nod slowly, force myself to meet his gaze.

"Come on, Finnick," I say gently, lean forward. "You know how bad the nightmares have been—you think I wanted to lay there and wait for my brain to outdo itself for this once-in-a-lifetime terror fest?!" There's more emotion in my voice than I intended there to be. Breathe…I take a deep breath, close my eyes sit back. When I finally open them again, I feel somewhere between calm and sad. "I just went out because the hallways are blue, and I had to get out of this…room." A cage, really. "I walked around for a bit, and then Cato found me. He was doing the same thing, but he wanted to get away from the other careers—at least, that's what he told me." My explanation has grown stark, voice tired. Finnick is staring at me with a look of mixed understanding and lingering worry. Worse, there's something…tragic in his face. He gets it—perhaps more than I want him to. It's human nature to want pity when we're in unenviable situations, but now that I've got it…it's uncomfortable.

"Alright, Tobi," Finnick says at last, rises to his feet and comes to sit next to me. He pats my knee, offers a sad little smile. "I understand—I was a tribute once, too, remember." I nod. "I just don't want this to be harder than it already is. Tobi…remember what happens when you get to the arena." His voice shakes a little; I wonder if he's remembering his games, or if he's thinking about mine. Or both.

"I know, Finnick. Everyone dies." And everyone kills. He stares at me for a long time. I can tell he knows what I'm thinking, and once again I am struck by the pity. I don't want it from him—just like I don't want understanding. I don't want the knowledge that Finnick went through the same things, and came out a good person, while I'm sitting here wondering how many I will kill. How many I can kill.

"I know you know," Finnick says with a hollow chuckle. "But knowing it and preparing for it are two different things, little fish. Just be careful with your trust…and your friendship."

"I'm not friends with the career, if that's what you're thinking," I scoff lightly.

"You'd be surprised who we consider friends when it comes down to it," he says. Something in his voice tells a story, and it prompts me to ask,

"Finnick…how did you do it?"

"What?"

"How did you go into the arena and come out so…clean?" He looks at me in surprise, eyes lost beneath a thick overhang of silky red-blond hair. After a long moment, they drift back down, and his face grows more somber than I've ever seen it. It's dark, somehow…

"I'm not clean, little fish. The games…they corrupt. Even the best of us," he throws me a pointed look for the umpteenth time this evening. Well, morning, I suppose. I look down into my lap again, and to my great surprise Finnick reaches an arm around my shoulder, pulls my close in a half-hug, and plants a kiss against my hair before rising to his feet. "Alright, little fish—I'd say it's long past time you got some sleep. You'll need it," Finnick offers a wink as I stand and pass him. "Tomorrow's the biggest day of your life." I offer a tired smile, turn and walk away. As I close my bedroom door behind me, I'm once again enveloped in static darkness and the smile falls from my face. I climb into my little cot, and Finnick's words play through my head as my eyes close. Biggest of my life, huh? I roll over, stare at the wall. It also might be the last day of my life…

Like I said: short. And quite a bit angsty...though that wasn't my original intention. Anyway, hope it sits okay with you all. I'll get crackin' on chapter 15 pretty soon, here, for those of you still interested. I hope you keep reading! (and reviewing, if you've got the time?)