Thresh had fought long, and Thresh had fought hard. Hard enough that Cato was limping from the deep cut Thresh had put in his leg. Hard enough that Cato was bleeding, from the cuts Thresh had put on his body. Hard enough that Cato knew by now that Thresh was fighting for more than just survival – he was fighting out of rage. He was fighting for little Rue, for his Nana, for Ivy, for his poor dead parents.

He didn't know if the rage was misdirected or not. Should he be screaming at the sky, at the Capitol, instead? No. That would only get his family in trouble.

"Give up, Eleven," Cato snarled, and Thresh looked into the monstrous boy's eyes and knew that Cato was fighting for someone, too. But who? Thresh didn't think he would ever know.

Thresh didn't reply with words. He swung his sickle sword at Cato's dominant arm, hoping to cut it off - Cato grunted, only barely blocking it. Which was good, thought Thresh. It meant he was tired – but so was Thresh. So, so tired.

"You killed Clove," Cato said to him, taking another swing. Ah – so that was who he was fighting for. Thresh didn't think that Cato had it in his heart to fight for someone, but apparently he did.

"Clove killed Rue," Thresh replied, lunging forwards – Cato dodged.

The boy from Two shook his head, swinging desperately at Thresh's head, but Thresh was tall enough that the sword didn't even come close.

"That was Marvel. You killed her for nothing," Cato said.

Thresh had thought that it was Clove. Her taunts to Fire Girl had sounded real – but maybe he shouldn't have believed them so quickly. It didn't really matter anyway, he decided. "Not for nothing," he said. "Now I'm closer to home."

And for a moment there, he really believed that he was. A small smile played on his lips – the first smile for weeks and weeks. He shouldn't have believe it so quickly, though, because Cato wanted to go home too. I'm nearly home, he thought, maybe saying it out loud – he didn't know.

"No you're not," said Cato, and plunged his sword deep into Thresh's stomach before he had time to react. "For Clove."

Thresh stared up at him, falling to his knees, and realised he had been wrong all along. Cato wasn't a monster. He wanted to go home, just like Thresh did. He loved people, just like Thresh did. And despite everything, Thresh found himself respecting the boy from Two. He wasn't fighting for himself – he wasn't fighting for the Capitol, even though he had Volunteered. He was fighting for someone he loved, and Thresh had to respect that – how could he not?

The pain in his abdomen was all-consuming, but Thresh bit his tongue – he wouldn't scream. Not when the Capitol wanted him to. Not when Nana and Ivy were watching, crying. Not when it was the only thing he could control.

"Bye, Two," Thresh said, only barely getting the words out, staring up at Cato.

Cato stared back. "Bye, Eleven."

Cato disappeared into the night, into the field, and Thresh clenched his teeth, trying not to cry out. It was darker now, anyway, and the pain was fading. He wouldn't have to be here much longer, and Thresh was glad that he would finally be out of the arena, even if it was in a wooden box.

Thresh wondered why Cato didn't wait to see him die. Surely he'd want to make sure the job was definitely done? Thresh's hands wandered to his stomach, and when he held them up to his face, the blood that dripped from them looked almost black in the moonlight. Cato was just as tired as he was, Thresh realised. The killing had become a chore. He wanted out. He didn't need to watch Thresh die.

Thresh's breathing was laboured, and it was getting harder and harder to exhale. It felt as though there was a huge weight on his chest, something pressing down on his ribs.

Sorry, Nana. Sorry, Ivy, he thought, seeing their faces swim in front of him, looking as though they were really there. He saw his parents, too, clearer than they were in his memories – he had forgotten their faces. Thresh felt almost nothing, now. He was warm, surprisingly so – warmer than he'd been since he'd left the Hovercraft. He remembered the sweet smell of the orchards, the warm sun on his face, the soft grass on his feet. He remembered his sister's laugh, and his Nana's humming, and the singing of the mockingjays perched on branches high.

Thresh wondered how Rue had felt, while she died. Fire Girl was with her, at least, singing. Thresh remembered Rue's sweet voice, floating down from the tallest trees in the orchards, meeting the ears of those of them who worked on the ground. He hoped she was happy, wherever she was, and he hoped that Fire Girl knew how glad he was that she was with Rue, in her final moments, that she hadn't let Rue die alone, and afraid, the way most tributes died.

As he stared up at the stars, Thresh found himself wishing that someone was here to sing to him, too.

Yeah, this hurt to write. I'm gonna go cry now.

Have a great day/night!