Everything was dark. Everything but one was silent. The hammering of his chest sent hollow echoes through his body and deafened him with the effort it took to keep it going . . . At least it assured him he had lived, but how and why? He didn't know how to swim, how could he have -

"Damnit, wake up!"

Gryffon's body convulsed and sent literal rings of static up and down his body, causing everything from his nose to toes to tingle. He turned over to his chest and felt the parade of coughs shake him again, despite the frozen feeling that trapped his entire being. After what felt like hours, Gryffon had enough force to open his eyes and he sat up, panting and exhausted, but alive.

For 7,986,600 minutes exactly, he subconsciously reminded himself as the ding went off in his head. He shuddered at the number. It was so hard to forget, it was impossible to.

So many chances to just disappear and it never happened!

He still had things to do, apparently.

"Wanna know why you're still breathing here in front of me, kid?" his father had often challenged. This time, it was about a month or two before his accident. Before he died.

"Nope," a younger Gryffon sneered about a year before, a cocky smile on his lips that quickly got wiped off his face by the back of the man's hand.

"'Cause I haven't been allowed to kill ya yet. If it was for ya to have died already, then it would'a been done already."

So what the hell did that mean? Gryffon didn't get it then, and he didn't get it now, but the man was so convinced of it. Maybe he believed in the whole 'it'll happen when it's meant to happen, no questions asked' shit, and sure, that would explain a whole lot, but Gryffon chose to believe his dad was too weak to live with the guilt of killing his own son. Gryffon wanted to believe he actually cared for the boy he beat so many times.

But then what? The man died. Alick died out of nowhere. He wasn't even home, and the district still remained clueless.

He had just been on the way to the Capitol and three months later came the notice that he was killed by an untreated bullet wound.

Was it his time to die? Was that the justification Alick would have used if he could still talk to Gryffon? He doubted it. Alick would probably claim whoever shot him was insane and had opened fire in the city or on the train or something and he was one of the unlucky men to get hit.

Maybe he'd even find a way to blame Gryffon for his death. After all, the only reason his role as Peacekeeper was in any sort of jeopardy was because Gryffon had been born. Maybe if he hasn't, Stephen wouldn't have been a possibility. That would justify why anyone would want to kill Alick, right? The fact he had a child?

"Uh, hi - hello, Gryffon?" Jay called for attention, shaking his shoulders again. "Are you okay? What's wrong with you?"

"N-nothing," he coughed out, shaking his head as he shrugged her away, wincing when the movement sent pains down his back. It didn't help he still felt like he was stuck in static, like any contact he had with anything would send a minor shock through him. "Just thinking."

"Can you not? You're just sitting there and I got . . . I don't know, you haven't moved," she mumbled, shifting her gaze to her hands that repeatedly twisted the jump rope, its previously white strands now stained red.

"Did you pull me out with that?"

Jay nodded and briefly explained that the boat had hit the little island they were on right when the mutt jumped into it and Gryffon fell off, so she made a loose noose and pulled him out once she made it to land. Turned out the water wasn't too deep, luckily for Gryffon, but he couldn't remember any of it.

It was like the water had swallowed him, erased all his senses, and froze him in place and thickened the pressure over his head until he felt like he was drowning.

"Did the cat get you?" Gryffon asked slowly, as if he was afraid of the answer. If she said yes, then he failed once again . . . But she was alive so maybe -

"Yeah, but not that bad. Just got my leg, but it fell in the water, and I was able to get off," she shrugged, adjusting herself so her left thigh was visible. She had wrapped a few squares of the paper towel around the wound to stop the bleeding and what was there was now caked with dried blood. It didn't look too bad, much better than his wound, but neither were infected as far as he could tell. "I did find out what the tracker meant, though . . . "

Gryffon raised a brow and watched as she fished into the wet bag and pulled the tracker out. "There was a beeping before, right?" He nodded at her question and watched as she faced the monitor toward Gryffon. The red light was now off to the right corner and the yellow light showed more in the center of the screen. "I'm assuming the red light is the mutt . . . " Jay started. A few more seconds ticked by and the red light blinked off for a moment until it reappeared in the left corner, a little closer to where the yellow light was on the map, but otherwise still distant from their location. It was probably back at the castle. "It can teleport, that's why it didn't die. It went to look for better prey."

"Or it's waiting for us to get off guard again," Gryffon mumbled bitterly, passing a hand through his hair, realizing just how sticky his hair was. "Oh god, the hell?"

"The water . . . I guess it's actually like . . . caramel - like the covering for caramel apples? Like all the red stuff hardened, or something," Jay related, setting the tracker back into the bag, her hands trembling a bit, as if she was anxious of something. "Here, eat something for now . . . "

The baggie of fruit landed in Gryffon's lap and with a role of his eyes, he tried to slowly eat one or two of them, but practically inhaled half the contents within the minute.

He forced himself to chew the last one slowly and set the baggie down as he watched her recoil the jump rope, her fingers nimble and able, like she had done harder rope work than this. Only when Jay zipped her pack up and sealed the baggie up and put it back into his own, did Gryffon notice how free her hands were.

"You took the gloves off?" he inquired, reaching over for her fingers and stopped her from closing the rest of the bag. Jay froze at his touch and inched her hand away from his, now lowering her gaze before she nodded.

"Yeah. Four was dead here. I pushed her him into the water after I got his key, but he had no pack . . . I wouldn't have been able to pull you out with cuffed hands, now would I?" Jay said, gradually lifting her eyes back to him. They looked guarded, like she felt guilty even mentioning the 'yeah', but up until then, as far as he knew, Jay hadn't killed anyone and he could easily imagine her feeling hesitant on just pushing a dead body into the water.

That was good, at least. She could handle things with her hands better and they could maybe even find a weapon for her now. Maybe one of the pens, or the bag she could use to suffocate someone. Even the pocket watch could be used to choke someone, or maybe blind them, even just using it as a stone to repeatedly hit someone could be useful.

But he found it strange there was no other Career there, or near there . . . And wouldn't the boy's body have been collected? Unless it had been before Gryffon woke up; and maybe the 4 boy hadn't joined the pack, or he wasn't accepted, being the youngest Career reaped in a while. Whatever it was, Gryffon couldn't find the energy to care. They were both breathing, and that's all that mattered at the moment he supposed.

"Oh! Here, lion - "

"Don't call me that?" Gryffon cut off in a growl, then nodded for her to continue.

"Here," she continued, pulling the metal hanger out of his bag. "Might as well have something, right?" Jay handed him the hanger, leaving him to stare at it quizzically. He could do more with the pens . . .

"What about you? Clearly you have an idea on how to use this - why can't I use something else?" Gryffon asked, looking back at her.

Jay sighed and shook her head. "I'm the mouse - I'll harvest . . . You be the 'almighty guardian' you said you'd be . . . 'Lion-boy'." Gryffon couldn't tell if she was joking or not, and the smile she seemed to force on didn't help him decide. But he just left it. There was no point in wondering. She was right, after all. He had promised . . . Even if the lion-boy comment was irking him. Maybe she had spent too long around the Careers - and that made him faintly wonder: they talked about him that much for him to get that name? Or was it just something she came up with?

Unimportant details, Gryffon. Doesn't matter, he reminded himself with a shrug.

* * *

After the packs were nicely closed and on their backs again, the two got up and trudged farther into the island. The thin grass gradually grew in size until they were taller than Gryffon, and in the midst of these tall grasses, flowers the size of trees began to sprout, some even blooming as they walked.

"This garden is different than the other ones . . . The flowers hadn't been so abnormally big . . . " Jay commented, inching a step closer to Gryffon so their arms brushed when they walked. He replied with a shrug and resumed tracing their path as they passed through the only clear path the grass provided. He didn't care about the size of the flowers, or the grass, or where she had gone before.

They weren't there now, and the knowledge wouldn't help them.

Gryffon stopped in his track, raising a brow at the white outline of a fence he could see. Jay hesitated a few steps ahead of him and glanced back. "What?"

"You don't see it?" Gryffon asked, motioning to the small garden fence still a bit ahead of them. Jay shrugged and shifted her weight. She was nervous, and he assumed she just wanted to get past this whole part of the tunnels and gardens, and he couldn't say he blamed her, but she had to stop being so jumpy.

Gripping the base of the hanger's neck, Gryffon motioned for her to go ahead and he followed a foot behind. He glanced up toward one of the flowers as he passed, narrowing his eyes as one of the white buttercups turned its opened bud to 'stare' at them. A camera. There was a probably a camera hidden in there and he was glaring right at it.

He had just about forgotten they were always being watched . . . This wasn't just a fight to the death to get back home, but a reality show. One where everyone in Panem was watching.

They were still just show dogs . . . Lions, magicians, mice, and rabbits, to be exact.

"Gryff', what is . . . "

"Curare, I think," he answered quickly, snapping his attention away from the flower and back to Jay as he approached the little white fence. He didn't touch the leaf, but the tiny white hairs under it and the smooth top with the deep green veins running across it had stuck to his mind. "I've only read of them, and I'm not sure Eleven even has any." He wouldn't assume they did, anyway. If he remembered correctly, the leaves could be crushed to make some sort of paralytic poison that could be lathered onto darts and shot. If any 11 native could get their hands on these, Gryffon could easily picture the Peacekeepers of the district getting shot down and poisoned periodically.

Actually, that could be one of the reasons why they were always on lockdown . . . Who knew what the district used during the Rebellion and what areas of the orchards, gardens, and more foresty areas the harvesters can still get their hands. But that didn't really matter, nor would it make a difference now. He didn't want to work on a blade of grass to make a dart or tube to blow it from, nor did he want to experiment and crush the leaves.

He had little sense of aim when he wasn't working with his hands, anyway. It'd be totally pointless.

"Gryff'?"

"Yes?" His response came out too harsh, he could tell just by Jay's flinch and her changing of weight.

"Well, if you're not too busy staring at your feet, I'd like to know if we should go through or go around?"

Gryffon blinked into the fenced area and narrowed his eyes. The first few feet into the garden-like enclosement was clear and it was easy to see the light green grass and the closed flowers just beginning to bloom. Everything was cute and as well-kept as the flower orchards back home, but once you got past those few clear areas, a light mist rose up. It seemed to be transparent at first, like Gryffon would be able to see right through it if he got at the right angle, but the only thing visible through the thin mist was a thicker, greener sort of fog that blocked anything that could be in the center.

And what Gryffon found strange was the fact the mist didn't leave the fenced area.

"I guess through. Might as well . . . I don't want to round it and have to come back and through anyway," he reasoned, getting a tiny nod from her. After another moment's hesitation, Jay placed her hands delicately over the fence and pulled herself over. Gryffon pulled himself over after her and was surprised by the softness of the grass beneath his feet. They felt so limp, so baby-like. It was a definite relief from all the prickly grass and the wood from the boat.

One step. Two. Three. Four steps and they entered the lightest of the mist.

Jay tensed at Gryffon's side and he had to pretty much push her for her to continue walking. They couldn't notice the thickening of the fog as they went, but the air grew heavier, and only when Gryffon tried to take in a deep breath, did he realize the air around them had deepened in color and looked like a teal color, and suddenly: he felt restless.

"This is a joke," Jay grumbled, moving her arm to cross his chest and point to the faint outline of a long table. Gryffon stopped when he bumped into her arm and he turned his gaze to the table. Tea cups and pots lined the table and there were at least twelve little garden chairs set up around it. The tablecloth was frilled with a thinner lace covering over it, and even the chairs had a delicately intricate design on the back.

"This whole thing's a joke, Jay." Gryffon shifted his feet and started toward the table, stopped for a second only by his partner's feeble attempt to hold his wrist back. He shook his head and tugged his hand free before turning toward the cute little set up again. The temptation to look at it was too much, and he couldn't resist it.

Gryffon smiled down at one of the tea cups, just barely making out his reflection through the liquid and mist. It was such a strange color. He wanted to say it was like a red, but it also shined blue, then in certain angles it appeared a minty color, though when he picked it up, simply to kill curiosity of it, and smelled it, Gryffon noticed its smell was sweet, like a sugar cane. What a strange tea . . . His mother had never introduced this one to him.

He shook his head slightly eyed the rim of the cup, simply circling it with his eyes. What was he doing? He knew he shouldn't be there. He knew he should just keep going. But he needed a reminder, a sort of tug to keep going, and it seemed like Jay wasn't putting in the least bit of effort to get going.

Maybe she didn't care, either.

And who knew? Maybe she had finished all the water . . . Or maybe it hadn't purified yet . . . Maybe it wouldn't ever since the water - rather than being hot - turned out to be sticky. Maybe the Gamemakers changed it after Gryffon finished the bit of water Jay had given to him hours earlier.

What if they got to drink nothing else after now?

What if they weren't given the chance?

And he was so thirsty . . . Gryffon could already feel himself licking his parched lips, just begging for a drink. If they emptied their canteen and filled it with whatever was in these cups, then they'd be fine for the rest of the Games.

After all, fourth day in, it couldn't last much longer, right?

Maybe it was already past the duration length. They might even be able to leave tomorrow! Oh, all they needed was another day. Or did he have it wrong . . . No, no, he couldn't.

Actually, the thirst was probably making him forget. He had to solve the problem at hand first.

Gryffon set the cup back down and swung his pack to his front where he opened it with slow fingers and fished around for the canteen. Where was it . . . He thought Jay had put it in this one . . . Unless she had switched it? Damn! Where was she?

"Jay?"

Gryffon turned his head this way and that, but he couldn't see anything but a black and white pattern, blocking his vision. "Jay!?" He waved his hand, but all that did was change the pattern and it made him even more dizzy. "Goddamnit, where are you, Jay!? I need the canteen!"

A loud screech made the pattern disappear again, replaced by the fog, the table, and the darkened grass beneath his feet.

The mist changed its direction and Gryffon could just barely see Jay scrambling back from the other side of the table, but he couldn't see her eyes or any specific feature of hers; it was like the fog had gone and covered her entire being, quickly enveloping her, and it dragged her farther and farther.