A/N: I'm so sorry, I completely lost my inspiration for this story. It has been two months since I updated. I thought my muse was gone. And I'm sorry to all of you who thought this was an update... you're completely right! :p I am not going to abandon this. At all. I'm not even taking a break; I already took one. I have a lot more inspiration for the sequel to this. I made the mistake of planning the plot arc of everything except what happens in the Games, and I've kinda ended up with a big mess.

But it is The Writer Games. It's supposed to be messy.

The Lie

There are two faces in the sky tonight. The two girls who I assume were allies. Very much like Rue, they died fighting not an enemy that is tangible, but the Capitol. Remembering the way they died is painful. It reminds me too much of Edward. He nearly died like that.

I am huddled in the corner by the wall, watching him drift into something not unlike sleep. His eyes are unseeing and barely open, and the weak rise and fall of his chest is the only indication that he is alive at all. There is nothing more I can do for him. Tomorrow I will risk a trip back to the river to rinse out the ash and the venom.

I have finally made the connection between vampire scents and venom, and it horrifies me. From the smallest details, like our perfect skin, to the largest parts of our nature, like our faces and, yes, sparkling, everything about us is meant to draw humans in. Venom is supposed to smell sweet and flowery, nice enough to lure in prey. His is acrid, like it's rotten or infected.

Still, it leaves me with more questions than answers. Are the completely white and dry patches forming on his arms related to this? Is healthy venom necessary for our survival? Is a good supply of blood in our system? The majority of everything he drank is lying wasted on the floor and his eyes are already black. Are those cracks going to slowly tear him apart? And then there is the most important question of all.

Is Edward going to die?

I have absolutely no idea. I have absolutely no control over it. There is nothing I can do but sit back and wait. At the moment, I am only waiting for him to stir. Once he does, we will discuss our options. Obviously, he is in no condition to fight. But to move? To fall back further and further into the forest? The same strategy that could be our saving grace could also be our downfall.

But I will not— I shall not— leave him. I will not even consider it, not in our darkest hour. I would die without him, quite literally. Even if I did survive, I would live in depression forever. I would never feel or love again. Even with the support of my broken family and possibly the Movement, I could not recover from the ridden guilt. It would destroy me. It would, completely and totally, destroy me. Then again, I will likely be facing post-traumatic stress and survivor's guilt for the rest of my life anyway

No.

He finally stirs at dawn. It isn't a slow wakening, as it is in humans. Instead he snaps awake, disoriented and panting for breath. "Bella?" he asks, sounding worried.

I'm by his side in an instant when I realize that he's crying. "I'm here, I'm here, it's okay..." My own voice cracks. "It's okay. You're going to be okay. You're going... going to be more than okay; you're going to be wonderful." I press myself as close as I can without hurting him.

"I think..." Edward sighs. "I think I had a nightmare."

"Is that possible?"

"No. Yes. I don't know. I wish Jasper was here." He looks away. Seeing him in pain, such sheer sadness, is unfamiliar. It frightens me more than the physical agony he faced in the forest. Bringing his eyes back to mine, he whispers, "And I wish Esme was here." His mother, of course he would want her. "And Alice. And everyone..." Edward trails off, completely lost.

"I think I wish that, too." And Mom, and Charlie. And even Jacob... "I wish we were home. But we aren't. We aren't. And I swear to you, Edward, I will do the best I can with what we have."

He laughs mirthlessly. "Sometimes I wish you would leave. For your own good, more than anything. I won't leave you, I... I don't want to hurt you. But I'll hurt you more if we're together."

"I honestly thought you had learned that lesson. I thought it hurt you, too." I regret the words as soon as they escape my lips. I should stop bringing it into our conversations.

Edward flinches. He swallows the pain. "I'm already hurt, Bella."

"You are hurt, but not broken. And even if you were, I would do everything in my power to fix you." And there's nothing in my power that can fix you. The unspoken words hover between us like a fissure. Emotions seep out into the air uncontrollably, unconstrained by words, communicated between us silently. The quiet lasts until I have bled out completely.

It's funny: in all of this time that I have spent with vampires and as a vampire, I never thought it was possible to feel this... drained.

"What are we going to do?" he asks quietly.

"To wait. We're going to wait."

"For what?"

"For a miracle."

At noon, it begins to rain.

It is not a quiet tink tink of raindrops and puddles of water that pool on the floor, it is a thump Thump THUMP of hail and furious water. The rain falls in sheets, the water so thick that it is difficult to see. The wind whistles and the storm blows in. The water is hot, almost acidic, but there are no ill effects as of yet.

It would be risky to return to the river. This area is small, and the whirlwinds have brought the scents of Cato and Clove and even the strangers— Thresh and the redhead— to my flaring nostrils. I bring Edward into the rain to clean the wounds again. The hail isn't uncomfortable per say, but it is more like prickling feathers than like silken ones of air or the velvet of grass and even rock. I have a feeling, however, that this is a precursor to another disaster. Tink... tink... tink... THUMP.

I use the heavy rain to scrub away the ash and infected venom. Occasionally I touch a tender spot, attempt to scrub away charred skin rather than ash, and when I do he bites back a scream. The thunderous wind drones away all sound before anyone can hear it. I can't help but notice that the cracks are spreading. The area around the original injury is slowly drying and turning a sickening color of off-white. Even with the wall of denial I have erected around me, I know that Edward is dying. Edward is dying and there is nothing I can do about it.

Afterwards, I take him back into the cave. It isn't long afterwards that I am resisting the urge to break down into tears. The silence is heavy and the rain outside is even heavier. The only thing that separates one painful second from the next are the varying sounds of rain and hail.

"Bella?" he asks, a few indeterminate hours or minutes later.

"Hm?" My voice is broken and monotone. At least I can barely hear the pain.

"Is there anything that I don't know about you?" He laughs humorlessly. "I just... if I'm going to die, I want to spend my last amount of time with you. But we already know everything about each other."

I scoot a little bit closer to him. "At this point, I think you know more about me than I do about you. I hate to admit it, Edward, but I've already forgotten so much of my life as a human." And I don't want to forget my time with you. I don't care how much it hurts when you're gone, but I don't want to forget you at all. Not those times. Not a second of it.

"Would you like me to tell you about some of it?" Edward suggests softly. "I remember."Taking a deep breath, I nod.

"Which story would you like to hear?" he queries. My mind whirls backwards, through the itchy dim curtain that veils my human life.

"Tell me about when we first met."

Slightly hurt, he asks, "You don't remember that at all?.. it was your first day at Forks High School. You walked into the biology class, and, well, you were human then, and you—"

"I remember that," I respond. "I couldn't forget that— ever." I shake my head. "Not ever. When we really first met. You came back, after a week of hunting in Denali, and you spoke to me for the first time... what... what did you say to me? I'm sorry, I can't believe I don't remember. I think I was paying too much attention to the... well, the hair."

He laughs softly so as not to hurt himself. It is a welcome sound. I have noticed that he is laughing more when something is decidedly not funny. Perhaps because it hurts. I glance down, feeling guilty.

"'Hello,'" he quotes in his musical, dazzling voice. I look back up at him, and he looks so much like he did that first day. His eyes are still that sickly, murky black, but, well, the hair is exactly the same— dripping wet. It is disheveled in a way that makes him look like it is done on purpose... and with hair gel. "'My name is Edward Cullen,'" he continues. "Then your heart-rate sped up and I barely kept myself under control. But I continued, 'I didn't have a chance to introduce myself last week. You must be Bella Swan.' You looked confused.

'How do you know my name?' It was a stammer. As you said, you must have been looking at the hair." His laugh, this time genuine, is soft and enchanting.

"'Oh, I think everyone knows your name. The whole town's been waiting for you to arrive,' I answered. You grimaced and asked me why I knew you would like to be called Bella. If you're wondering now, it's because I had read the thoughts and heard the conversations. Then Mr. Banner started class. We had to identify slides as Prophase, Anaphase, and Interphase... we were finished before everyone else. You noticed that my eyes weren't black, and you asked if I had gotten contacts. I told you no, and started worrying about protecting the secret. You told me about how you hated cold and wet places. Which is, oddly enough, exactly what Forks is... and you told me about why you had come to Forks. Phil."

"Phil?" There was a long, uncomfortable moment.

"...Your... stepfather," Edward replies, confused. My mind refuses to cooperate. He must have been important, if he had to do with my meeting Edward. And yet... he's simply... gone. To my memory, I have one stepfather. And his name was nothing like 'Phil.'

"I don't remember him. At all." I sigh. I could remember him, if I had a picture or something else. Anything else. But I don't. He will only fade farther and farther away from my memory until nothing remains. "Do all vampires go through this?"

"Yes," he answers. "It's one of the many reasons that I wish you were still human."

I shake my head. "Right now? When you're unbearably thirsty but blood isn't going to help? I'm not so sure that would be a wonderful idea."

"True. Back to the story?"

"No, tell me another one." I hear the anthem beginning.

"Which one do you want to hear this time?"

"I... I know this is much more recent, but I don't remember the details. Tell me how we first came to Panem?" My voice is so quick and quiet that I know that even the Capitol audio equipment won't catch it.

Edward's expression darkens. "You told me that you were doing your best to block that memory, once." His voice matches my volume and speed.

"That must be why I don't remember it at all now." I do remember some of it. Most of it is hazy and almost painfully uncomfortable.

"Are you sure you want to know?" he whispers.

"Yes," I answer. "I am certain. I am absolutely certain."

He sighs, closes his eyes, attempts to compose himself. He looks at me intently and begins to tell the story.

"It began with an agency known as Crossbar. They had created a substance, a disease, really, that could wipe out every life-form on the planet in forty-eight hours if not contained properly. They wanted to sell it to anyone who would do harm. They had both a cure and the money. If it spread— and it would spread further than any enemies wanted it to, that was part of the plan— Crossbar would have both the money and the cure."

"Carlisle wasn't—"

"No! No, of course not. Carlisle worked for Watermark. Watermark was a multi-government agency established to find and eliminate Crossbar. They had enlisted the brightest and the best doctors on the face of the planet and informed them about the impending threat. Truth be told, it was exactly what he had always wanted to do. He was literally saving the world. At first, he and I kept it a secret. But I told you, Alice saw and told Jasper, Carlisle couldn't keep it from Esme, Renesmee couldn't keep it from Jacob, and somehow it slipped to Rose and Emmett. You really can't keep a secret in our family.

"Watermark knew exactly what we were, though, and they used it to their advantage. We could work hours that no one else could. Eventually we found a cure— after you had become infected and we had to find the cure or turn you. But when Crossbar found out what we had done, that now their master plan was useless, they knew they had to take us out of the equation.

"They had technology that even the Capitol would call magic. Don't ask me where they got it, either. Time travel, parallel universes, astral projection, vampires, werewolves, reanimation, telepathy, telekinesis, prophecy, pyro-kinesis... they worked with the 'supernatural' side of science. Or, at the very least, it was considered supernatural in those days.

"An hour after Carlisle and I had transferred the cure to Watermark, Crossbar sent what is now known as a temporal bomb. "

"A what? A 'temporal bomb?' And what? It ruptured the space-time continuum? What is this, Star Trek?"

"... yes. Exactly. Well, no, this isn't Star Trek, but it sent us hurtling far into the future. Almost seven hundred years to be exact. It was my fault, really. See, the device had already locked onto us, so there was no point in trying to move it far away from us. It wouldn't matter, as long as we stayed in this solar system. I was trying to disarm it. See, the device was sending us seventy years into the past.

"Crossbar didn't know that we were vampires, and that way we shouldn't have survived to the present time again. But, if that had happened... if they had thrown us into the past, we would be able to continue living where we were. Eventually. I would have turned you, and decades later you could see Charlie and Jacob and Renee again.

"But I had to be stupid and try to disarm it. Instead, I changed the temporal coordinates by accident..." The anthem ends. "Seven hundred years in the future," he says. "All because of me."

I laugh awkwardly, trying to throw the Capitol off of our trail. "That's a great story, Edward."

The sound of the trumpets startles me. In flash, I race to the mouth of the cave. Claudius Templesmith begins his oration. "Hello, my friends. I would like to begin by, hmm, inviting you to a feast. Now hold on. Many of you are likely declining this offer. And you're right. We cannot offer live people." He laughs to himself. "But you're also wrong. Many of you need something. Desperately."

Shaking with anticipation, I listen even more intently. Chemicals can heal these wounds.

"Each of you will find that something in a backpack, marked with your district number, at the... hm... at the river at dawn. Think hard about refusing to show up. You know this will be your last chance," finishes Claudius.

I hear a groan of pain, and then Edward is by my side, leaning against the wall to support himself as he stands. He grips my shoulder. "No," he insists. "Bella, you are not risking your life for me."

"I have before and I will again."

"You are not going," he growls.

"You do not control me, Edward, especially not when it comes to something like this!" I hiss.

"You're running straight into a free-for-all against Cato, Clove, Thresh, and Foxface? Please, Bella, don't be stupid," he says. "You'd get yourself killed! I know you're trying to be selfless, but that would be the most selfish decision you could ever make. Where would I be? Where would I be if you didn't come home? I'm already going to die. Don't make our family lose both of us."

"And you!" I point my finger. "Don't play the guilt card. I am going, and you can't stop me."

"Well, I could follow you. I wouldn't make it to the river, but if I'm yelling your name, someone will find me. And then I will definitely be dead," he says.

"You can hardly even stand," I snarl back at him.

"Then I'll drag myself."

"Stop manipulating me."

"I'm manipulating you to save your life! You would do the same thing in my position. You have done the same thing in my position!"

"Nothing I have ever done is that reckless," I counter, folding my arms. A small portion of me is glad to see him active.

"You slit your wrist in front of a newborn, a nomad who wanted to kill you, and the vampire who very nearly killed you and an entire classroom of witnesses when he first met you," he growls. "I'd say that's fairly reckless."

"So what do you expect me to do, Edward? Watch you die? I can't do that. I don't care how justified it is, I can't do it!" I say, now holding back tears that can never come. This is not an option. He may love me until his final hour, but the audience would loathe me and I would sink below the suicidal marker by about twenty-thousand leagues.

"I promise I won't die. I promise. But only if you look me in the eye and tell me that you won't go," he says.

"You can't guarantee that you won't die."

"Well," he says. "That's the thing about death. No one can predict it. But I won't die tomorrow."

"Okay," I say. "But you have to do what I say. I want you to keep drinking this bottle."

"My body will just let it go right out," he mutters. "What's the point?"

In one blazing moment, the pieces snap together perfectly. I am certain that he sees the blinding lightbulb flickering above my head.

"What?" asks Edward.

I snatch the bottle of blood. A wave of torturous fire ripples down my throat. I am beyond caring. "Edward, that's it!" I exclaim.

"What's it?"

"The blood. Remember how it has a slight taste of chemicals?" I ask, excited.

"Yes..." Edward's confused expression only adds fuel to my irrevocable smile.

"What if your body is sending it out that way for a reason? The vampire body is designed for survival. It isn't going to do something idiotic like wasting blood while it's injured. The injury needs the blood, but in a different way. It needs it for the chemicals," I emphasize. "But it was already slightly processed. The chemicals had already been wasted. But if I were to just rub it on your back like medicine..."

I see the moment he realizes it, too. Edward smiles. "I underestimate you. You are... you are absolutely brilliant." He turns around slowly, and I help to support him.

Taking one last breath, I pop off the cork. I rip off a piece of what is left of my shirt. Trying not to fall to pieces, I pour the blood onto the cloth. The trickle is absolute agony. Wincing, I force myself to recall the Mutts in the forest. No, that was unbelievable pain. This is manageable compared to that form of torture. With encouragement from Edward and every ounce of strength I have, I manage to press it to the savaged portions of his injuries and begin to rub. It all turns a hideous color of red. Still in anguish, I repeat the process until the bottle is half-empty.

Afterwards, all I can do is wait. Edward seems very "sleepy" again. I am already doubting everything I know about vampires when I touch his hand and it feels lukewarm. Is it even possible for vampires to become feverish? No, probably not. But I know for a fact that I am not imagining this.

I walk to the mouth of the cave and to keep watch. I don't need to, I suppose, but something about it is comforting. Edward's breathing falls into a pattern similar to sleep. Then he shudders awake again. He won't let me leave. He won't drift off far enough for that.

Even if the weak chemicals in the blood can slow down what is happening to him, I doubt they will be able to stop it. He's going to die in a day or two, and then the cracks will tear him apart and he'll be gone. And I'll be alone.

I'm so lost in thought that the parachute startles me. Another sponsor gift? So soon? It floats downwards in my direction and I snatch it from the air. I tear off the silver fabric to retrieve what is inside. A vial of something. Perhaps medicine, perhaps deadly chemicals to humans... whatever it is, I gasp. Maybe Haymitch hasn't abandoned us yet. Because he's done it! I don't know how, this must be very expensive— maybe he convinced the hopeless romantics to give up the money—but I can save Edward! A shiver runs through me when I realize that the vial is too small. Perhaps it is condensed, but I don't know what good it will do. For a moment, I am doubtful. I unscrew it and take a whiff. Incredibly potent, likely modified to work with vampires, but the memory of this scent is so powerful that it pierces through the thick veil of my human blindness. It's cheap as far as medicine goes and easy to acquire without raising any suspicion from the Capitol. I put a drop on my tongue to be sure. The taste is sweet, even to me. There is no doubt. This is sleeping medicine. Edward had Carlisle knock me out for about a day while my depression was so severe that I hadn't slept in a week. But what good will it do for a vampire? Maybe it will put us in the drowsy, sleep-like state that Edward is in, only forcefully and more deeply. Or maybe they've figured out a way to actually put us to sleep. I don't think anything would surprise me anymore.

More importantly, what good will it do for me? A vial of normal chemistry and potency would knock a human out for about a day. I shake my head, barely restraining a snarl. This seems like a cruel joke. I need to heal him, not put him to sleep. Who's the bratty dead sparkling spirit-drinking rodent now, Haymitch? Huh?

I'm so furious that I nearly crack open the little vial. Then I realize it. A day? That's more than I need. I screw the cap back on tightly. I can barely smell it. I'm certain it will go undetected. Smiling to myself, I retreat into the cave. Edward is drifting in and out of consciousness. "Are you okay, Edward?" I ask. "Are you feeling any better?"

"Not at all," he answers after a pause.

I feel strangely guilty. I am doing this to save his life. "Well, I want you to drink some more. Okay? I think it will help."

"You don't want to apply more?"

In response, my hand flies to my throat instinctively. This is not a lie at all. The idea does burn. "This is easier," I whisper. I take the bottle and slip the entire bottle in while my back is turned. I hand it over to him and he takes a sip.

"It's very sweet," he notes.

"Maybe that's a good sign?" It comes out as a question. But he only needs a few more sips. "I don't think it tasted that sweet to you earlier."

"It... was a little metallic. I thought that was from the chemicals," says Edward. "But it tastes better now. Still not as good as, well, actual blood."

Fire burns down my throat as I swallow. The flames dissolve into a rock in the pit of my stomach. Just this once, I tell myself. Just this once I need to lie to him. "It smells wonderful to me," I comment. "I wish I could have some." He takes another sip.

"Do you want any? It will probably be better for you, anyway," he mumbles.

I press my lips together. I can't have any of the sleep syrup. I can't have any of it. But the blood itself... there is no decision, my hands try to take it. Horrified, I back away from him, shaking my head. "No, no, I can't have any, it's for you," I stammer out.

His eyes narrow. "Of course you can. You haven't hunted for days..."

"Oh, it's for you, I'm fine. Please drink it, Edward."

He takes another gulp of it. "It's very sweet," he says, still drinking. "I'm not even going to complain about it, Bella. I really don't care if you want some. It tastes like syrup, you'd love it." He takes the last few sips, draining the bottle. "Syrup," he realizes. His eyes widen. I clamp my hand over his mouth to make sure that he can't spit it out. He groans and struggles for a few seconds, but I am far stronger than him. Edward tries to spit it up, but, even with the syrup, vampire instincts with blood are too strong. Even if he could spit it out, it's too late. He's already losing consciousness. It's too late. As he drifts away I see that, in his eyes, this is unforgivable. I have lied to him. I have also saved his life, but I have also lied to him in the worst way possible.

I take a few steps back from him. "I'm sorry, Edward," I whisper, although I know he can't hear me. "I am so, so sorry."

A/N: There aren't many chapters left, as I've said before. I continue working on this over the weekened. I should be done soon. :)

On a side note, I am considering changing my username to "Midwinter Sky." I tend to match my usernames to profile pictures, and I have a perfect picture in mind... it's also very, very similar to the one I have right now. Besides which, I'd rather go by "Sky" than "Sun."

~Sky