Okay, so just a little reminder now that the Game's are about to start it's going get a lot more graphic and violent, but I'm sure you knew that. Here's Chapter 15. R&R Please!

Ch. 15- The Quarter Quell

"What? No, please nooo! You cant!"

The familiar drone of the hovercrafts engines blocked out all other noise in the hovercrafts bay. There were no children sniffling and crying out for their mommy on this one. Just stone cold faces and numb shocked expressions.

This wasn't happening. It couldn't be.

"Peeta no, don't let them take me! I'm not ready to die!"

"I promise, Prim. It's going to be okay. I promise!"

Nothing was ever going to be okay again. They weren't ready. They weren't prepared. She needed more time. Peeta thought he had more time. Would things ever be made right between him and Cato now? Could he protect Prim from the bloodbath? Was the reaping really the last time he'd ever see his father or Gale?

"Haymitch… Haymitch! You have to do everything you can. You have to save her."

"Find allies. Find shelter. Stay alive. Don't engage. I'll do what I can from this end, I promise. You are not alone in this."

The sound of Prim's desperate cries as she was carried off by the Peacekeepers this morning echoed through Peeta's hallow brain and raked over his broken heart. The pacemaker worked its hardest to keep him whole, but the world just kept trying to break it down. After the Peacemakers carried her away that morning it was his time to go. He went peacefully, what else could he do? The Capitol was in control, always had been.

A woman went around injecting the tracking devices in everyone's right arm. It felt like a hot metal poker was stabbed into his skin then it was over in a second. But the psychological pain of what was to come lingered on. It ate away at his insides like rust on metal, slowly building up on his organs until nothing could move or function.

He was dead in the water.

He couldn't breath.

Someone was watching him.

Across the bay in the other row of seats Asasia was buckled in and watching with her beetle-black eyes like a feline predator stalking its prey. Her face, what was visible beneath the curtain of black hair, was etched with deep grooves of hate. She fed off his misery and fear like a leech, relishing in the newest turn of events.

"Things are happening fast now. You need to pay close attention. Stay alert."

"I don't understand. What's happening fast now? Haymitch, what's happening?"

Peeta's demand hung in the air unanswered and left him with even more questions. He tried to sort it out, but the incessant drone of the engines and the anxiety that hung in the air like foul smog clouded his thoughts. Everything was jumbled now.

His father was trying to come to him in the crowd but he shook his head no. His mother turned her head away from him.

Prim was holding his hand as she tried to sleep like he was her anchor in the middle of an unforgiving sea.

Cato was walking away from him on the cobblestone streets of District Two. Would he ever walk any other way but from him?

Gale's face crumpled like a building imploding. Tears or rain—he still didn't know—raced down his face.

"Just be smart. Be safe. Listen carefully."

The hovercraft tilted forward and he knew they were close now. The descent had begun. Soon the clock would set to sixty seconds and those might be the last he ever knew. The last Prim or Cato knew. If they're taken from me today I—I just don't know…

Something in his pocket shifted and he remembered the fierce hug Haymitch had pulled him into after his final words. He had left something in Peeta's pocket. He adjusted the straps of the seat belt to get into the pocket of his jacket and felt cold metal against his fingertips. He slipped it out just enough to catch a glimpse of the parting gift Haymitch had left for him. He felt his throat constrict. In his hand he held the small gold pin of the Mockingjay Riece had given him. He had no idea how Haymitch ended up with it. The last he saw it was when he pinned it to Katniss' jacket after she had died. Another thing lost to the games…

Haymitch really did believe in him. This was his way of showing he stood with the Mockingjay. And so as the bay doors opened and the Peacekeepers went around unlatching all the Tributes, Peeta took a deep breath and walked out into the catacombs beneath the Arena with his head held high.

The waiting chamber was a familiar sight: a table against one wall loaded with food, his last meal; against the center wall was the glass tube that would carry him to the Cornucopia; and then standing in the center of the room waiting for him like a life raft in the middle of a turbulent sea was Portia.

Once the Peacekeepers had exited and the door slid shut Peeta raced into Portia's open arms and pulled her tight. A sob escaped his lips as his walls began to crumble. He'd done this all once before and it was supposed to be that last time. He wasn't even supposed to make it out and yet here he was again, on the precipice of death and this time being joined by his friend and fiancé.

Portia held onto Peeta just as tight and when he pulled back he was shocked to find tears glistening in her eyes. The gold mascara was running down her cheeks and made it look as if she were crying gold. It would have been beautiful if it weren't so tragic.

"Peeta, my precious boy on fire…" She choked off. Unable to finish her sentence as her emotions got the best of her. She pulled him back in for another hug and Peeta held on for as long as he could.

It felt different this time.

Before she was all confidence and soothing presence. But now Peeta could see just how much this was affecting her.

It felt like a goodbye this time.

They finally broke apart and Portia tried wiping at her cheeks, only further smearing the gold across her hazel skin.

"I apologize. Let's—let's get your uniform on and then have you eat something. You know the drill by now."

They prepped for the games in silence. His uniform was some tight spandex thing this time like his winter jammies. There was no jacket or boots, just odd rubbery shoes. He hid the mockingjay pin in his breast pocket. Peeta could feel the anxiety building inside his chest like there was a balloon in there slowly inflating, growing larger with each passing minute, displacing his organs and pushing up against his chest cavity. Soon he would have trouble breathing. His heart would struggle to continue beating against the pressure. He had to rein it back under control, but it felt like all hope was lost. There were no more options left to him. Only one person comes out of the games alive, there would be no salvation at the last minute where everyone he loves gets to live.

Portia flitted about nervously in the background as he tried to force down some food. He didn't know what the situation for food and water would be like once inside the arena and he didn't want to start off at a disadvantage, even if eating was like trying to force sawdust down his throat.

"Eat some of the dry-roasted nuts there. They'll give you sustainable energy."

Portia pulled the bowl of nuts closer for Peeta and he snatched a handful of them and forced them down with some water. Then he looked back up at Portia and knew his façade was breaking. It might not have been there to begin with, but he quickly felt it all deteriorating. The damn was crumbling against the powerful tide and worse of all was he didn't know who could stop it. Or who he wanted to stop it. Gale or Cato. It seemed so unfair to make him choose. But wasn't that what it always came down to?

Fuck, I can't breathe. It's too much to ask of one person! Peeta's mind began to reel. He was losing out against the dark. The Capitol, Snow—they'd already won, now they were just gloating. The balloon in his chest had swelled so big it felt like his chest might just burst open. Everything was going dark again. He lived in the darkness, the Capitol had blotted out all the light, all the hope. He really was just a matchstick. There wasn't even enough fire in him to light a candle, let alone be a beacon for every lost soul in Panem.

"Shh, shh, it's okay. You're okay." Portia was suddenly all around him, holding him again and stroking his hair. "Just focusing on my voice and your breathing. Can you do that for me?"

Peeta nodded against her cheek and breathed in the warm fruity scent of her hair before exhaling out his mouth. Her hands never stopped stroking his hair; her voice never stopped extolling his virtues. Again he wished he could have had a mother like this—someone who cared for him and truly loved him. Unequivocally. Maybe then he wouldn't be in this mess. Maybe then he wouldn't be such a destructive force.

Maybe…

"Time to prepare for launch." Plutarch Heavensbee announced over the intercom and they broke apart like they had been stung.

In the silence left behind by his announcement Peeta imagined he could hear Prim's whimpering. She was trying to be so brave, but what thirteen-year-old girl was ready to face down death?

"Portia, t-tell me it's going to be alright." Peeta's voice broke at the end.

Her eye's glittered again with unshed tears, but she held them back this time. It was her turn to put on the brave face. She helped move him towards the glass container that would transport him to the arena. He stepped hesitantly on the silver disc and turned to face her, his heart jack hammering against his chest.

"Of course, Peeta. It's going to be alright. You're going to—"

The glass suddenly shot down from the ceiling in a hiss of air to seal him off from her and he never got to hear her finish the sentence. She rested a hand against the glass and he brought his up to press against the opposing side. He felt his extremities quaking like a terrified child's. He leaned forward and pressed his forehead against the glass. He wished more than anything that he could just be on the other side of this glass.

A movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention and when he pulled back and looked up he saw two Peacekeepers entering the room. He didn't understand what was happening. They didn't do this last time.

Portia turned to greet them. He saw her lips move, but couldn't hear what she said. Then one of the Peacekeepers backhanded her across the face. The other brought an elbow to her gut right after and she crumpled forward.

"NO!" Peeta screamed and began pounding against the glass.

But his cries were lost on the room as the first Peacekeeper pulled her arms behind her back and tugged her upright. She turned to look back at Peeta, blood dripping from her nose, and there was no mistaking the fear in her eyes. But she was also distinctly defiant. She held nothing but love and pride in her eyes for Peeta. She mouthed something. She wanted him to look away. But he couldn't. Peeta was frozen in horror. Nothing was working as he watched the door open again and in walked President Snow. He was dressed in a cream white suit and blood red bowtie. His eyes flicked over to Peeta, trapped inside the glass prison, and then back to Portia.

"No, no! PLEASE! NO! DON'T HURT HER!" Peeta screamed until his lungs felt raw and ravaged, but still he went unheard.

Portia held her head high in defiance and stared down Snow like he were some petty criminal. Every hair on Peeta's body stood at attention. Everything was moving in real time, but his mind was working so fast that it was processed things in slow motion.

President Snow spoke briefly before reaching inside the left lapel of his cream jacket. Before the hand withdrew Peeta knew what was inside of it. There was no denying what would happen next, but he still screamed. He pounded against the glass with all the energy he had, hoping, praying there was some way out of this nightmare. If he beat the glass hard enough maybe they might stop.

The silver polished gun was raised to a point right between Portia's eyes. Then Snow's finger pulled the trigger and her blood spattered across the room, reaching as far as the glass that Peeta was encased in. He collapsed backwards in horror and disgust. Her blood and brain matter trickled down the outside of the encasing like globs of jelly. Her body was limp and lifeless on the floor, blood pooling everywhere as it seeped out the hole in the back of her head. Snow looked up from his handiwork and gave a sneering salute to Peeta before walking back out the door he came in.

And it was all over, just like that. Not more than thirty seconds had gone by and everything was different. Everything was scorched and barren. There was no human emotion left, just blistering heat and blinding redness. He wanted to break through the glass. He wanted to claw and rip and feel the flesh tearing from Snow's face, to feel his bones crushing under the weight of Peeta's hands.

"AHHHHHH!" Peeta screamed and screamed as he pounded against the glass until his hands were bruised and numb, until it felt like there was nothing left at all.

The container lifted Peeta up and as he emerged into the blinding light of the new world above him the scream that had started after Portia's death echoed out into the arena and dissolved into nothing. Soon it would be joined with new cries of pain and horror as new blood was spilled. The sacrifices the Capitol demanded of them in penance, for they had all sinned and this was their hell.

"Ladies and gentlemen, let the Seventy-fifth annual Hunger Games begin!" Claudius Templesmith's voice boomed across the Arena.

The clock above the gold Cornucopia came to life and began the countdown from sixty seconds.

Peeta had sixty seconds to pull it together.

He tried breathing deeply again. Tears kept slipping down his cheeks. The air tasted of salt. The sun nipped at his skin. The climate was humid and his spandex suit clung to his body.

Peeta had fifty-four seconds to clear his mind and find his center.

He tried wiping the image of blood and brains from his mind. He tried clearing it of the lifeless image of Portia's body. He tried clearing it of the rage that had filled it with one look at Snow's pale face. But it was all he could think of. It consumed him.

Peeta had thirty-five seconds to take in his surroundings.

Okay Peeta, look, look around you. Take it in. NOW! He finally noticed all the tributes were lined up in a semi-circle again, but this time their pedestal was an island in the middle of a brilliant turquoise sea. Sand bars ran out in length from the island in the center where the Cornucopia was stationed in a formation like the spokes on a wheel. Then circling all around them in 360 degrees was a thin white sand beach and a dense green forest.

Peeta had fourteen seconds to panic.

He couldn't swim. He was trapped. He could see all the valuable goods located in the heart of the Cornucopia and separated from him by a sea of water. It could have been ten miles or ten feet to dry land and he couldn't make it.

Peeta had eight seconds to locate his loved ones.

Cato was to his right eight people down and he held a look of steely determination on his face, legs braced to dive right in. He wasn't fazed in the least by the watery arena. Primrose was three to his left and she was stunned. Her head was looking up, down, all around. She had never seen anything like it.

Three, Peeta's chest constricted.

Two, Peeta's pulse skyrocketed.

One, the gong rang out and Peeta's stomach dropped like a dive off a cliff.

The games had officially begun.

There was splashing all around as the tributes that knew how to swim dove into the water and swam as fast as they could straight for the Cornucopia or for safety in the thick forest. It was chaos and Peeta was at a standstill. There was a splash to his right and he pivoted, ready to kick the incoming attacker. Instead he was shocked to find Primrose paddling threw the water towards him.

"You can swim?" Peeta asked incredulously.

"Yeah, my dad used to take us to this lake. Now you gonna help me up or what?"

Prim spit out some water and held a hand up for Peeta to grab. He pulled her up and great, now there were two of them on the pedestal.

"You were screaming. Just before the clock started, what—"

A guttural cry pierced across the warm salt air like a missile and tearing through their eardrums. Prim's eyes shot open wide as she whipped around looking for the source. Peeta didn't have to look, he knew what that sound meant. The bloodbath had begun.

"Oh god!" Prim gasped. "Oh god, oh my god!"

Peeta pulled Prim around to face him and shook her.

"Look at me, I know this is hard, but we have to focus on us right now. Do not get distracted by it or that'll be you. Got it?"

He stared into her wild olive eyes until they settled back down and she closed her eyes, before reopening them with a new look of determination. More screams ripped through the air, shredding the calm like blades to a curtain. The sounds of clashing steel and ripping flesh joined in the background.

"We have to get off this, I think I can help guide you." Prim shouted over the onslaught of noise at Peeta.

He stepped backwards in hesitation. He couldn't swim and he couldn't trust that Prim would be able to save him if he started to sink. It was too much to ask of such a little girl.

"I can do it." She shouted at him. The look in her eyes told him she believed it.

But they were out of time and there was no way to test it because Peeta spotted closing in on them from his right was Asasia. She was sprinting along one of the sandbar spokes straight towards them. Once parallel with them she dove straight into the water. Her strong arms propelled her through the water like a jet. Peeta didn't have time to think. He just acted. He turned and shoved Prim right off the edge into the water on the other side.

"Find Cato, get to safety!" Peeta screamed and there was no questioning him. And by the look in Prim's eyes she knew to listen to him.

"Peeta look out!" Prim shrieked, chocking on water as she swam backwards and away from him.

He swiveled about just in time to see Asasia jumping atop the pedestal. Her jet-black hair was plastered to her face and both beetle eyes were visible, filled with gleeful hate.

"Tell me, what happens if the boy on fire gets wet?" Asasia laughed.

In her right hand she held a large wooden club laced with large, razor-sharp metal spikes. It was a brutal looking instrument of war and already dripping with blood and flesh. She raised it readying to strike and Peeta had to think quickly: death by Asasia's hands or the sea's?

With out a second to spare Peeta unleashed an animalistic cry and jolted forward, straight into her exposed midsection. She must have been shocked by his forward charge because the spiked club remained suspended above her head as he charged her weaponless. They connected with a jarring jolt that ran down the length of Peeta's spine as he carried her forward and into the water with a wet slap.

The world inverted. He couldn't tell which way was up or down. There were bubbles everywhere, kicking feet, and bits of flesh washed free from the club floated aimlessly through the thrashing water. Something hard connected with Peeta's back and he cried out, inadvertently swallowing more water. His nostrils burned. His eyes burned. His mouth tasted of salt and blood from biting his tongue.

Then suddenly there was another body in the water before him and he was tugged to the surface. Once he breached Peeta quickly sucked in as much fresh air as he could. It was Finnick that had saved him, but Asasia was just as fast on his tail. He had forgot that both of them being from Four meant they must have been excellent swimmers. This Arena was tailor made for them Peeta thought with a spike of resentment. But in that moment he was glad to suddenly have an ally, even if it wouldn't last when the number of tributes left dwindled.

They were almost to the sandbar when Asasia caught up to them.

"You can make it Peeta, just kick and paddle!" Finnick shouted in Peeta's ear before throwing him towards the dry land right as Asasia was upon them.

Peeta flailed helplessly in the water only a few feet from the sandbar. He submerged. He was sinking. He didn't know what to do. There was a loud cry muffled by the water and then the water was stained red. Paddle and kick. Paddle and kick. Peeta repeated those words and worked his extremities as hard as he could. His lungs burned from the exertion and lack of oxygen. He was getting light-headed when finally he came in contact with the sand bar. He pulled himself ashore and gulped down big deep breaths of hot moist air.

The sounds of the bloodbath raged all around him, battle cries and screams of pain. Clashing steel and splashing water. A hand landed on Peeta's leg and he kicked out in fear.

"Fuck!" Finnick groaned.

"Shit! Sorry, I thought—"

"No time! She's not dead, just injured." Finnick said muffled through his hand that he held over his nose where Peeta had kicked him.

Finnick helped Peeta up and then they ran down the sandbar towards the Cornucopia. Finnick seemed in fine condition as he raced ahead of Peeta, his signature golden trident held at the ready. But where was Prim? Peeta scanned in every direction but it was chaos and he couldn't spot her. Nor Cato. Finnick slipped on a sticky spot of sand, but Peeta caught him before he fell. They looked down and saw the sand was clumped together with a thick pool of dark red blood and strips of flesh, like they'd been flayed from the body. Peeta's head spun. He had hoped to never see violence like this again and yet here he was thrust back in the heart of it.

A few more feet down and Peeta saw the body the blood must have belonged too. His face was bashed in and unrecognizable like a hammer had been brought down on a soft melon. Peeta knew it had to be Asasia's spiked club.

The white powdery sand around the Cornucopia was splattered with red like a kids finger painting, but much more sinister.

"Look out!"

It was Cato's voice. Peeta didn't see him anywhere, but he knew to trust that voice. And so he immediately dove to the ground and not a moment too soon. A silver arrow slashed through the space he had just been occupying. Looking up from the soft sand he saw Cato charge from inside the Cornucopia and drive the tip of his sword through the pliant flesh of the attackers stomach. The woman—from Nine Peeta thought—didn't even scream. She looked at Cato with a comical look of shock as the sword protruded from her back before he ripped it out and she fell to the ground dead.

Peeta jumped from the ground and ran to join Cato. Finnick was close behind, his eyes sweeping in all directions for another attack.

"Where's Prim?" Peeta asked frantically. He could feel his right eye twitching and knew he must have looked mad, but that didn't matter. Only her safety did.

"I'm here!" Prim offered from behind him.

Peeta whipped around to see Prim emerging from inside the Cornucopia. They must have taken up inside there for safety. She had a belt of small blades fastened around her waist and Peeta breathed a sigh of relief. She was both safe and armed now.

"Well looks like we all got weapons now," Peeta stated as he reached down and took the bow from the dead woman's grasp. "Let's get the hell out of here."

"I'll take lead, Finnick you stay behind Peeta incase we have to go for a dip," Cato ordered as he took charge and lead them all down one of the spokes of sand towards the towering wall of tropical trees.

They left not a moment too soon, because just after they left to Cornucopia a fresh battle started up when Asasia reappeared along with the tributes from Ten. Blood poured from a gash on her left shoulder, most likely from Finnick's trident, but that didn't hinder her as she launched into action and attacked the man to her right. Enobaria launched herself from seemingly out of nowhere and took the female from Ten down, ripping out her throat with her razor teeth. Blood dripped down her chin like slopped juice and bits of skin stuck between her teeth. Her eyes were feral and inhumane. Peeta shivered.

"Go!" Finnick shouted with a shove to Peeta's shoulder. He hadn't realized he'd stopped to stare. It was too horrifying to look away. Prim and Cato were a few leagues ahead and so he raced to catch up.

They ran until Prim couldn't go any further. Then Cato lifter her onto his back and they hiked even further. No one talked. Peeta wasn't sure if he could. His blood was still racing. So much had happened in barely a ten-minute span and now they were alone again, lost in the maze of the thick, sweltering rainforest. He couldn't begin to process it all. Had Snow really just killed Portia in front of him? He was out to inflict as much pain as possible on Peeta. He wanted to break him down. Like making an Arena that started in the middle of an ocean.

The forest floor started to slant upward and it was a tough hike. It only got steeper and the forest was much denser than last years. The forest floor was littered with tangles of vines and undergrowth that they had to weed their way through. His thighs burned with the exertion and his back throbbed where one of Asasia's spikes had nicked him. Not once did they come across a source of water. They could hear the sounds of wildlife every so often, but they were well camouflaged in the forest. It felt as if they were alone in the world and that was a troubling thought to have, because they very much weren't. Any false sense of safety provided by that feeling could get them killed.

After another hour the canon fire started to mark the dead. Peeta counted seven total, which was a surprisingly low number compared to last year. It probably had to do with the fact that everyone in here was an experienced killer besides Prim. Peeta knew that Asasia, Enobaria, Gloss and Cashmere would still be out there, a team now. No one was safe until they were eliminated. No one was safe until Snow was eliminated.

"Oh Peeta. My brave, brave boy on fire…"

It was as if someone had knocked his legs out from under him. Peeta couldn't stand and he collapsed to his knees on the spongy forest floor.

"Peeta? What's wrong?"

Her voice. Her amber eyes and chocolate skin. He'd never see it again. Her motherly embrace he'd never feel again. It was just another thing Snow had stolen from him.

"PEETA!"

Cato's shout brought him back to reality like a car slamming at full speed into a wall. It was painful and disorienting. His cheeks were wet and his legs were weak. He didn't know how to go on anymore. They were all doomed anyways.

"Cato…" Peeta whispered brokenly.

His fiancé took in Peeta's state and turned to the others.

"We make camp here for the night. Everything looks the same so I don't think we're going to get much better than this and Peeta needs rest."

Finnick nodded and took Prim's hand.

"Let's see if we can find some firewood."

They wondered off—never out of eyesight—but allowing for some semblance of privacy. Cato then bent down and scooped Peeta up in his arms before carrying him to the base of a large tree trunk. He then sat against it and held Peeta close in his strong arms. They used to be meatier, another thing he'd lost during his captivity, but he still beat Peeta any day of the week in muscle mass. Peeta nestled his head in the nook of Cato's neck and breathed in deep. He smelled of salt water and sweat. Peeta felt the little puffs of air against his head from Cato's breath. They sat like that in tranquil peace, only the sounds of the odd bird and their steady breathing to keep them company.

It was in moments like these that Peeta wished he could stop time. Right here, in this moment, they were perfectly in sync. He knew what Peeta needed and he provided it with out question. They leaned on each other for strength and fought together against the fire.

Were they only ever good together when their lives were in danger?

It was a question Peeta couldn't answer. Not until he knew what he wanted and in that moment all he needed was Cato's embrace.

"Snow… Snow killed Portia," Peeta whispered against Cato's neck. He felt his eyes welling up again and he was just so sick of crying. This wasn't for the audience to know. This wasn't something the Capitol citizens got to share in on. They weren't privy to his misery. This was his life! Real fucking life. Not a reality show.

Cato's arms tightened around Peeta and his breath hitched, but he didn't say anything. He just nuzzled his nose into Peeta's blonde locks and kissed his forehead.

"He wants to take everything."

"Then we wont let him." Cato said with conviction.

And in that moment, when everything seemed lost to him, Peeta believed it.

So, reviews would be lovely. I'm sure we've got some things to talk about. Did you expect Portia's ending like that? What about the beginning of the games? I really wanted to mirror the start of the 74th games, but still make it different and just as tense and emotionally complex. Hope I succeeded, at least partially. Let me know!

Xoxo,

Crobb07