Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"How long did you think I wouldn’t notice?"

Katniss froze, knife still slick in her hand, blood smeared across her jacket. Looking away how it stained her hands. How long had Clove been standing there, just casually in the dark leaning against the tree, arms crossed, no weapon in sight. It didn't mean anything.

"Notice what?”

"Don't play dumb." Clove pushed away from the tree, closing the distance and Katniss' pulse jolted, eyes locked on the other girl, head tilting as Clove circled her once, close enough their bodies brushed.

Trap. Play. She was trying to make Katniss drop her guard.

She knew. Found out. Katniss cleared her throat.

"Enough dallying." Clove was in front of her and in a movement Katniss could barely follow, grasped the collar of her jacket, yanked her down.

She was going to kill her.

With her lips on hers.

Kissed her. Kissed her.

Their teeth clashed; Clove took Katniss’ startled gasp as invitation, tongue pushing in, fierce and hungry. Groaning, arching up against Katniss' body.

Clove’s nails dug lightly into her jaw. Katniss’ hands hovered uselessly before landing, hesitant, on Clove’s hips, unsure, transferring the blood on her hands, not that Clove seemed to care, biting down on her lower lip-

Katniss should start at the beginning. Somewhere, in all that mess, was the reason she now had a Career’s lips on hers.

The beginning was Katniss holding Prim for the first time; leaning back against her father sitting in bed between her parents looking down at that wrinkly, slightly red thing. Her little sister.

Her father had laughed—Prim wouldn’t stop squirming, nearly wriggling free. She was pretty sure she held her for long enough, ready to give her back when her finger was clutched tightly and cloudy blue eyes focused on her. Primrose, her little sister falling silent. Still slightly bloody. Some tufts of dark hair visible. Staring and squirming.

Or perhaps it was later still with Prim, far too small and pale at seven, clutching her coat sleeve as the pool of people behind the hastily made up rope keeping them from the main entrance of the mines became smaller and smaller. Just as the clutches of miners spilling out.

The sirens still howled as snow thickened, the sky iron-grey above them. Loud clear, echoing, nothing as broken and unforgettable as their mother falling apart the moment the mining captain stopped in front of them. Katniss never even heard the words. Eyes settling on the ground were somewhere beneath, her father lay trapped for eternity.

Prim was the start of it all. Despite everything she done, despite it being her first year, a single slip with her name and still she was called upon. The odds were never in their favour. Prim screaming for her as Gale pulled her away-

Still so small when they said goodbye, curled up in her lap. Arms wound tight around her neck. The little tail of her blouse once more untucked. Smelling like herbs and home.

"I don't care if we're rich. I just want you to come home. You will try, won't you? Really, really, try?"

How could she not promise to try? She would do anything for Prim.

This might have been the beginning; the cause. Their only victor and therefore mentor was a drunk who already wasn't much but seemed to like Peeta more than her. Peeta, the baker's boy who seemed not just pretend kind and wouldn't stop following her. Something she needed to cease knowing what was coming.

Realistically her chances might not have been bad. Her skill with a bow was alright, she was with a knife alright. She still could in a week acquire some skills, gain some weight with so much food available.

The glaring obstacle were the Careers.

Tributes from One, Two and Four. They'd as always formed an alliance; the Career pack and if nothing out of the ordinary happened that skewered the Games in someone else's favour most often someone from those three Districts won.

With their fancy academy training, honing their ability to kill. District Two was the worst of them, the most victors, the most brutal of them, weapon efficiency bred into their blood and not much else. Just trained Capitol killers. Bloodthirsty. This year's selection did fit the description.

A mountain of a boy, the whole day he had been hacking away at dummies with a sword, barely breaking a sweat and muscles straining against his uniform. Smirking, looking at everyone menacingly.

His female counterpart appeared no less deadly, but differently. At home at the knives station. She was tiny but fury incarnated, a handful of knives leaving her hand in a matter of moments, hitting the targets with a force; all dead center. Spinning and whirling gracefully, despite almost looking bored before she shot a teeth bared smile at anyone who dared to look.

What set her apart even from the other Careers' was how she seemed to be in her own sphere, while her District partner took the lead of the pack even against the boy from One she kept herself at the periphery.

Observing. Her eyes knifing for weaknesses in her allies just as much as the other tributes. After lunch Katniss saw the boys move from station to station, whispering, considering and she knew sometimes outliers would join the Career pack. Seldom and of course most often they'd be the first turned on.

But that mistake could be avoided by striking first.

The Careers took the Cornucopia at the beginning, the weapons, the best supplies. She only needed to get her hands on a bow, get a grip on her surroundings. Killing a Career, all volunteers for this spectacle, all wanting the blood on their hands, had to be easier.

Haymitch had told them to keep their head down. Not to show anything. He hadn't gotten anyone home in his over twenty years as a mentor.

Prim needed her. Gale had four siblings. Her mother wasn't reliable. If Gale had to choose between his own and her sister-

Katniss chewed on her lip. The tiny Career from Two hadn't moved from the targets. The boys were still walking around. The two other girls were close by training together with spears.

The bow was heavier in her hand, sturdy than her own back home. She pulled the string back. The first shot wouldn't land precisely.

She would need to calibrate, get used to it first. She considered. The tiny Career was starting a new round gathering her knives, ten targets appearing. Katniss had observed her enough to know what was coming. Her taking a breath. Almost unnoticeable the straightening of her back, the roll of her shoulders before her deadly dance began anew.

Katniss was almost hidden, further away to the side. She still would have a clear shot. Arrow or knife. The quiver barely was in reach before her first arrow hit the target to the side of the knife merely grazing the bullseye, the second they were side by side, the next with the sudden hesitation of the knife thrower her arrow was split by the knife. By the end, every target was struck. Arrows and knives battling for the bullseye, heart after heart split in two.

The female tribute from Two whirled around. It only took a heartbeat for her eyes to meet Katniss' and only a moment for Katniss to have to duck to avoid a knife coming for her head. Her heart raced.

Orderlies shouted, but the room had gone still, tributes watching. After all, they weren't allowed to kill each other yet, not without giving the entirety of the Capitol the pleasure of watching. Forcing calm Katniss only tilted her head.

"Best of two?" Katniss' voice cut through the silence, sharp as the knife she’d nearly caught in her skull.

The other girl narrowed her eyes. No weakness. Katniss held her gaze, picked up the knife from the ground, closed the distance between them and offered it to the other girl hilt first. "You dropped this." She offered.

Unmoving as dark eyes flickered between hers, a brow slowly lifting. "Is that the best you can do?"

Katniss shrugged. "Not yet. Still getting used to something this gaudy." She offered more honest than she probably should, sniffing at the silver bow at her hand, surprised when it earned her an amused huff.

"Better get used to it then fast." The girl turned around inputting a command in the console and the targets were switched out for new ones. Not giving Katniss a starting sign beside the sudden coil of her muscles, the tendons of her neck standing out, before a knife left her hands.

Katniss, quick to match it with an arrow.

Chapter Text

It was weird. Katniss had remained next to the tiny Career, Clove, almost expecting a knife in her side, but instead got more and more challenges thrown her way. Told where to hit, her arrows flying faster through the air than the knives though sadly for her latter were not less deadly. More and more dummies appeared, moving, lighting up in different formations, telling them when to hit.

The rising difficulty left her unmoved, having a bow in her hand the most settled she felt since the reaping if it wasn't for the rest of the pack closing in. They circled like wild dogs.

Katniss knew better than to show her throat.

In the end the mountain of a boy, the leader, Cato extended the invitation to eat dinner with them. All six of them watched her, waiting for a minuscule twitch, a sign of weakness to tear into.

Some predators you looked into the eyes, stared them down, to ensure they knew you saw them, so they didn't sneak closer, others you didn't look into the eyes so they didn't see it as a fight for dominance, attacked.

Even the wild dogs back home followed a leader. The first to eat, the one choosing when to attack, when to retreat. They all looked at Cato, perhaps unconsciously, some at least. The girl from One, Glitter seemed enraptured enough with him. Though his District partner, Clove followed, it seemed to be in the loosest sense of the word, staying as long as she needed to earn the benefits of the alliance even as she appeared bored with it.

She didn't talk as the boys arms wrestled, nearly breaking the dishes and throwing down the food off the table, didn't interact more than necessary. Observed. When she spoke her words were as cutting as the knives she threw.

And stared back. Didn't glance away when their gazes met. Her gaze a heavy weight on Katniss' shoulders even when Katniss wasn't looking, in between quick bites of her food. Hostile of her presence. Clove's fingers tapped absentmindedly on the table even while eating, restlessness radiating off her.

Like she couldn't contain herself. Couldn't wait. To see probably all of them dead, their blood decorating the arena floor. At least her dark eyes entreated to think so.

It was a relief to escape dinner, even more luck to reach her room in the penthouse no question asked. Only showing her this was the right choice because how could Haymitch not know what she had done? She had broken his one rule, or advice and he was too drunk to be aware of what was happening right underneath his nose.

Peeta had caught her eye as she stepped into the penthouse, brows knitted in perhaps genuine concern. She quickly closed the door to her room.

Katniss started the next day alone. Kept away from Peeta, away from the Careers. She was not desperate for their alliance. Even if it was strategically quite bad if she ended without it and had shown her hand with her archery skill.

Still, she went to the trap station, the familiarity a comfort and started with the basics. Sat down cross-legged and the handler of the station, seeing she knew what she was doing, left her to her own devices.

While playing with the cord, she glanced up once sure she had seen someone in her periphery but shook it off, knowing how many eyes probably were on her. Setting snares of cord and wire for small mammals and birds like back home, then considering, started one with rope.

"Tying yourself a pretty necklace? Or giving up already and wanting to hang around?" The boy from District 4, Lir, spoke from above her without even hiding his malice and Katniss smoothly stood, noting the whole pack was gathered.

Correction. The tiny one was still at her station. "Perhaps you should spend time on anything besides weapon training then you would know what I was doing." Katniss answered simply. Testing. Cato was standing there arms crossed, watching while the others were bored, waiting to poke and prod.

Katniss considered, saw the way the boy before her puffed up, trying to intimidate her by height and strength alone, the rope snare in her hand. The supporting beam above.

"So, you what? Think yourself some hunter, with the bow and what laying little traps? What are you going to do? Catch a rabbit in the arena?"

"Perhaps. Reliance on the Cornucopia always ends well, doesn’t it?" Katniss stepped closer to him, forcing him instinctively a step back which she used, in a barely noticeable movement letting the snare drop down on the ground while tying the other end to one of the bricks laying at the station.

"So all those little rabbits should be afraid of you, I see." Lir laughed, looking over his shoulder for support which he only got a bit.

"You should be." That got his attention, he lifted a finger, stepping forward, right into the snare.

He hadn't even time to blink before Katniss threw the other end of the rope over the support beam, caught it and pulled. He was heavy, but not that heavy. In moments he was dangling by his foot upside down in the air with a shout while Katniss tied the other end to some console.

The training center had fallen silent as she stepped up to him, poking Lir in the chest, silencing his shouts to cut him down, causing him to spin. "Dead."

Looking behind him the Careers were silent until Cato barked out a laugh and everyone joined, ribbing Lir. Cato nodded at her.

"Cut me down, now!" His voice bounced from the walls as he heaved himself up, trying to get a grip on the rope tight around his ankle.

Katniss considered. All the other tributes were watching. Seeing the Careers not invincible. Some doubted they could even bleed. But they could. Katniss would show them.

"Perhaps with all the blood flowing down, it might be better for you to stay this way a bit longer." It earned more laughter while Lir's face was murderous and red.

Only for him to suddenly hit the ground. Clove twirling the knife she had cut him down with over her knuckles. "You thrash like a fish on a hook." Her gaze landed on Katniss despite speaking still to the boy. "Truly, you are a credit to District Four."

Stepping past him on the ground she circled Katniss who moved with her, keeping her in her sights. "So Twelve, what other skills have you got?"

*

This was the end of day two of training. Five days to go, with the private showing to the Gamemakers and interviews also waiting to happen. She had shown her archery skill the Careers, had shown she wouldn't be toyed with. The two lunches with them had been like observing a different species all together.

They were obviously interested in her, so what was the hold up?

In contrast, dinner in the penthouse was almost quiet with only Effie chattering about interview prep, smoothing the napkin in her lap, trying to fill the silence Peeta and Katniss left untouched. Katniss picked at her food, half-listening, half-thinking.

The slam of the door made all three of them flinch.

Haymitch stormed in, bottle in hand, steps uneven but furious. He didn’t even bother with a greeting.

“Are you insane?” His voice was raw, cutting through the room. “Why have I gotten a formal request for you as an ally of District One, Two, and Four? The Career pack?” He waved the bottle like a weapon, liquid sloshing out over his hand. “I told you both to keep a low profile! To hide your talents and especially keep away from the Careers!”

Effie froze, eyes darting between them. “Haymitch, really—”

“Shut it, Effie,” he snapped, not looking at her. His bloodshot eyes locked on Katniss.

Katniss sat straighter, jaw tight. Part of her wanted to smile, knowing her plan had worked. Not that she was safe—not with the Careers, never with them—but it would get her closer to a bow, to supplies.

Close enough to turn when the time came. They had volunteered. They wanted blood. She would give it back.

But Haymitch wasn’t finished. “What, you think no one ever thought of that before? You think you’re the first genius who’s ever tried to double-cross the Careers? They tear you apart. Every time.”

Peeta looked stricken, eyes flicking to Katniss in warning, in quiet plea. She ignored it.

She shoved her chair back, standing. “How can I trust you?” The words ripped out of her before she could swallow them. “Nearly twenty-five years and you never brought anyone home! I have to at least try keep my promise to my sister, and I’m not trusting my life to a drunk who can’t even stay sober for a week to help us.”

Haymitch’s face darkened, and for one sickening heartbeat she thought he might actually hit her. Instead, he barked out a laugh—harsh, bitter, as his hands slammed down on the table, uncaring of the bottle still in his hands. The bottle tipped, spilling down his wrist to the floor.

“Promise to your sister, huh? Cute.” His grin was all teeth. “That’ll keep you warm when one of those pretty little Career kids buries their weapon in your back.”

Katniss’ throat tightened, but she forced the words out anyway. “Better to die having tried on my own terms than waiting for you to save me.”

The silence after was heavier than any shout.

Haymitch’s smile faltered. He leaned over the table, too close, eyes suddenly sharp. “You think I don’t know what it’s like? To claw at the only chance you’ve got, even if it’s poison?”

Katniss’ nails dug crescents into her palms, but she didn’t flinch.

“You’re right,” Haymitch rasped. For the first time, he sounded tired. “You can’t trust me. I’ve been drunk longer than you’ve been alive.” His grip tightened on the bottle, knuckles white. “But them? The Careers?” He spat the word like it burned. “That’s how you keep your promise?”

The room shrank around them. Effie looked pale. Peeta sat rigid, lips pressed tight, gaze flicking desperately between them.

Katniss lifted her chin. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Haymitch stared at her for a long, heavy beat, then snorted. “Yeah. That’s what I’m afraid of.”

He shoved away from the table, staggered to the door. Over his shoulder, voice low but cutting, he muttered, “You’re playing with wolves, sweetheart. Don’t look surprised when they eat you first.”

The door slammed.

Katniss stood rigid, heart hammering, refusing to let her hands shake.

*

The training room buzzed with energy. On one mat, the Careers’ boys grunted and slammed each other into the floor, all strength and brute force. On another, Katniss faced Glimmer.

Katniss stepped onto the mat, pulse steady, eyes scanning. She had been watching them for days now.

The Career pack wasn’t one mind—it was a hierarchy. Cato sat on top, the leader by sheer strength and presence. The others fell in line: Marvel shadowing him, the District Four pair taking cues like obedient hounds. Glimmer lingered nearest to Cato, basking in his attention, but never straying far from the safety of his shadow.

Clove was the exception. She stayed in orbit, never at the center. She followed when it amused her, fought when it suited her, watched always. Never yielding, never pretending anyone but herself was in charge.

That made her the most dangerous of them.

Katniss knew she couldn’t be the weakest link. That was how you got cut. But she couldn’t be the threat either—that got you cut sooner. She had to land somewhere in the middle. Useful. Worth keeping. Not worth fearing.

Which meant beating Glimmer.

Glimmer was almost her height, heavier, muscle layered under Capitol-fed softness. Katniss had wrestled back in Twelve—mostly boys bigger than her—and she knew better than to try and win on strength. She circled, light on her feet.

“You afraid, Twelve?” Glimmer taunted, smile wide and sharp.

Katniss rolled her shoulders, stretched her limbs lazily, deliberate. “Funny. You’re the one still hesitating.”

The line worked—Glimmer lunged. Heavy, fast, relying on strength. Katniss let her come. A quick pivot, a shift of weight, and Glimmer was off balance. Katniss latched on, using momentum against her, and in seconds they hit the mat. Katniss coiled tight, legs clamped, arm hooked under Glimmer’s chin, breath harsh in her ear.

It wasn’t strength that won—it was speed, leverage. Glimmer kicked, writhed, fury in every movement, but Katniss held firm. Sweat slicked between them, the mat biting her shoulder, until finally—smack. Glimmer’s palm slapped the floor.

The noise around them swelled. Marvel whooping. Cato barked a laugh. Even a few of the handlers leaned closer.

Katniss released fast, chest rising sharp with relief. She’d proven herself. Not the weakest link. Not prey. She could walk away now—

Clove.

She stood loose-limbed, arms crossed, head cocked. “You’re not leaving yet.”

Katniss stilled. Her pulse skipped. Katniss’ muscles locked. This was different. Glimmer had been predictable—strength, pride, easy to turn against her. Clove was something else entirely. She didn’t play by rules. She didn’t need to.

Katniss swallowed, nerves tight as bowstring. Clove’s eyes glittered with something unreadable as she prowled, circling.

Katniss shifted light on her feet, keeping distance. Licked her lips tasted salt. Her mind ran fast: Clove was quicker than Glimmer. Smaller. Sharper. Knife to her throat before she blinked if she'd misstepped. She was the kind who killed for fun. The kind you never turn your back on.

Anxiety prickled, crawling under her skin. Every twitch of Clove’s fingers read as a threat. Every half-smile a challenge.

The boys’ wrestling slowed, curious eyes sliding to watch.

Katniss sidestepped, but Clove mirrored her. A hunter’s prowl. The corner of her mouth curled in amusement, eyes sharp as a blade.

Katniss lunged first, trying to surprise her, but Clove met her head-on. The clash was fast, messy. Katniss had the upper body strength from her bow; she shoved, managed to hold her ground, arms straining against Clove’s wiry frame.

For a breath, it almost felt like she had her.

Then Clove moved. Too fast.

A hand clamped Katniss’ shoulder for balance, and in the same motion Clove’s legs snapped up, hooking tight around her waist. A predator’s precision.

The pull dragged them both off balance. Katniss staggered, then the floor slammed her spine.

The air burst from her chest.

Clove didn’t waste it. She twisted with the fall, hips torqued, thighs locking Katniss in place. Her forearm pressed across Katniss’ throat, not enough to choke, but enough to remind her who held the advantage.

Pinned. Trapped.

Katniss’ hands instinctively gripped Clove’s thighs—too tight, too warm, muscles shifting against her palms. She froze, breath short. Trying to shove free, but she couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.

Strands of Clove’s braid had slipped loose, sticking to sweat shining down her temple, trailing to her collarbone. A drop slid lower, vanishing into the low neck of her shirt. Kantiss' nostrils flared, sweat, leather, the scent of struck flint encompassing.

Clove grinned, victorious, until her eyes snagged on Katniss’. Her brow furrowed. This close Katniss noted her eyes weren't black, but a rich brown.

Wait, too close. Could only stare up at the gleam of sweat sliding from Clove’s temple, the fierce glint of her eyes.

And Clove looked back. Long. Too long. Something in her expression faltered. Tilted. Her smirk softened into something else.

Katniss froze; shock, panic, body stiff with it.

Then the shouts hit—Cato’s laugh, Marvel’s bark, voices clamoring around them.

Katniss jolted back to herself, heat flashing her face. She slapped the mat. Hard. Tapping out.

Clove blinked, confusion flickering before triumph slid back into place.

Katniss shoved her off, scrambling to her feet, refusing to look back as she stalked off the mat, lungs still burning.

*

"Thank you! Thank you! Welcome, welcome, welcome to the 74th annual Hunger Games! Now, in about five minutes, they're all going to be out here. All of the Tributes that you've heard about. Are you excited? Let me hear it!"

Caesar was howling on the very stage she’d have to walk onto in moments. Her stomach lurched

"Amazing." She stopped her pacing to look at Cinna, who was relaxing back on a couch, calmly watching her. Haymitch had been avoiding her and luckily Effie wasn't here. Just Cinna.

"I don't feel amazing."

"Don't you know how beautiful you look?

"Only thanks to you. And it won't help me out there, they'll expect me to talk and I don't know how to make people like me. How do you make people like you?

"You made me like you." Cinna leaned forward, his golden marks shimmering under the light but not as much as his smile.

"That's different. I wasn't trying."

"Exactly. Just be yourself, I'll be there the whole time. And just pretend that you're talking to me. Alright?" He stood, hand hovering over the small of her back as he let her outside the room and into the wings behind the stage where the other tributes were already lined up, waiting for their turn.

Be yourself. Right. Because that helped so far. Or all her life back home.

Cinna left with a last squeeze of her hand. Before she made her way to the end of the line where Peeta stood last, she got a look at Glimmer already on stage.

In a see through white dress, slapping Caesar's hand? Giggling behind her hand, tittering. A showpiece for the Capitol. Presenting herself as if she wasn't just a day away from killing.

It was enough to give her pause before turning around, catching Marvel looking bored despite it being his turn next and then peeking out behind him; Clove arms crossed, rolling her eyes, chin tipped like she owned the stage already.

The Capitol hadn’t dressed her like Glimmer or Marvel at all. She wore a sleeveless gown in a fierce coral-red that clung at the bodice, ruffles layered up her chest like flames caught mid-motion. The skirt fell looser, cinched just enough at the waist to keep her sharp rather than soft. Her hair was pulled back hard from her face, dark with volume at the crown, then twisted into a bun at the back. From it spilled ringlets that caught in the white stage lights, giving her both polish and movement.

Her eyes looked almost black ringed with golden liner, unwavering, predatory, daring anyone to meet them too long.

Katniss caught herself staring. Freckles dusted across Clove’s nose, faint but visible when she tilted her head. The Capitol hadn’t buried them under paint. It only made her look more dangerous—youth mixed with precision, softness refusing to be erased.

Clove’s gaze snapped away from the screen and found hers.

A raised brow. The flicker of a smirk.

“You look deadly,” Katniss muttered before she could stop herself. The words slipped out, sharp and stupid. She wanted to claw them back, but Clove had already heard.

It was true. Not like Glimmer’s costume-piece deadliness. Real. Like if the Games started now, she could walk onstage, rip Caesar’s mic from his hands, and slit someone’s throat before the cameras even cut away. Katniss' throat for example.

For the first time, Katniss saw something falter in her. A flush. A flush creeping down from her cheekbones into the coral of her dress. Maybe it was a trick of the lights. Or maybe it wasn’t.

"Want to share how you got that eleven?"

Right the private showing. Katniss wasn't sure she should be telling the Careers she shot an arrow at the Gamemakers. Simply shrugged. "Just shot a few arrows."

Clove tilted her head, taking her in, gaze almost palpable as applause rang out. Marvel already done and then it was time for District 2. Katniss stepped down the line to her place as Clove took the stage.

"Another volunteer, please welcome Clove Fuhrman from District Two." Clove had to hold her dress to walk up to Caesar, a smile on her face. Despite the smile she didn't pretend to be anything but what she was. Vicious. Calculating. Impatient with all this appetizer before the main course.

"I've heard that you are quite facile with the knife."

"I'm the best." Back straight, eyes dark, barely leaving Caesar's to rove over the audience. Oozing confidence.

"Really?"

"I could kill you from clear across the stage." It didn't even sound arrogant, just matter of fact. And it was the truth. Katniss had seen her skill. Knew how dangerous she was.

All the Careers presented themselves this way. Confident, vicious, prepared for the Games. She still didn't know what her angle was when she was suddenly under the limelight

"From District Twelve, you know her as the Girl on Fire! Well, we know her as the lovely Katniss Everdeen! Welcome! Welcome. When you came out in the opening ceremonies, my heart actually stopped. What did you think of that costume?"

Katniss swallowed, mouth dry. All those eyes on here. Found Cinna in the crowd. Cinna raised one eyebrow at her. Be honest. "You mean after I got over my fear of being burned alive?"

Big laugh. A real one from the audience.

"Yes. Start then," she winced at Caesar's high pitched bark, wanting to melt into the couch and disappear.

"I thought Cinna was brilliant and it was the most gorgeous costume I'd ever seen and I couldn't believe I was wearing it. I can't believe I'm wearing this, either." Katniss lifted up her skirt to spread it out. "I mean, look at it!" As the audience cooed like doves and she saw Cinna make the tiniest circular motion with his finger. Katniss knew what he tried to tell her. Twirl for me.

Finally something she could work with. Cinna had given her an advantage to work with. Katniss stood, lifting her arms, to spin. Around and around. Letting the skirt fly out. The dress was engulfed in flames. Cheering while she had to clutch Caesar's arms, dizzy.

"Don't stop!" he encouraged.

"I have to, I'm dizzy!" She giggled. A sound which never in her lifetime had escaped her. She laughed, chuckled with Prim, in the safety of their home.

Perhaps it was nerves. Or the spinning. Or she was close to throwing up.

Caesar wrapped a protective arm around her, which she didn't like, hopefully inconspicuously slipping back into her seat.

"Don't worry, I've got you. Can't have you following in your mentor's footsteps."

Another round of laughter as the cameras found Haymitch, who was by now famous for his head dive at the reaping, and he waved them away good-naturally and pointed back to me.

"So, how about that training score? Eleven. Give us a hint of what happened in there."

The eleven she had thought might cost her life for her audacity. Katniss glanced at the Gamemakers on the balcony and bit down on her lower lip. "All I can say is, I think it was a first?"

The cameras were right on the Gamemakers, who were chuckling and nodding. "You're killing us," said Caesar as if in actual pain. "Details. Details."

She looked at the balcony again. "I'm not supposed to talk about it, right?"

The Gamemaker who fell in the punch bowl shouted out, "she's not!"

"Thank you, Sorry. My lips are sealed."

Caesar and the whole audience groaned, moaning and begging for some answers.

"Let's go back, then, to the moment they called your sister's name at the reaping," Caesar switched gears. His mood is quieter now. "And you volunteered. Can you tell us about her?"

No she couldn't. They didn't get to know about her. Prim was not for their amusement, for their entertainment.

Her eyes roamed the audience. They all were salivating for her tears. The tragedy. She wanted to snarl.

Not Cinna, he gave her a nod, sadness on his face. She cleared her throat. She wouldn't tell them but maybe Cinna. "Her name's Prim. She's just twelve. And I love her more than anything."

She closed her eyes.

"What did she say to you? After the reaping?" Caesar asked.

To really, really try. Her little form in her lap, clutching her tightly. Her heat bleeding into her. But now an icy rigidity overtook her. Filled her limbs. They wanted sentimentality. Tears.

Be honest. She cleared her throat. Her mouth was dry, she swallowed hard. "She asked me to try really hard to win."

The audience was silent, hanging on her every word.

"And what did you say?" prompted Caesar gently.

They might take her life. They might make her a spectacle, They wouldn't use Prim. "I swore to her I would do whatever it takes to come back to her." Katniss leaned back in her seat, glaring down the audience and Caesar. Her eleven hadn't been a fluke.

"I'm sure you did."

The buzzer went off. "Sorry, we're out of time. Best of luck, Katniss Everdeen, tribute from District Twelve."

She actually survived. Katniss sank back into the wall, uncaring now the cameras were finally off her. She barely registered Peeta's interview until-

"Well, there is this one girl. I've had a crush on her ever since I can remember. But I'm pretty sure she didn't know I was alive until the reaping."

A girl who didn't know Peeta was alive? Wasn't he popular back in their District? Back in school?

"She have another fellow?" asked Caesar.

"I don't know, but a lot of boys and girls like her," said Peeta.

"So, here's what you do. You win, you go home. She can't turn you down then, eh?" Caesar leaned forward, petting Peeta's knee encouragingly.

"I don't think it's going to work out. Winning... won't help in my case."

"Why ever not?"

Peeta blushed beet red and stammered out, "Because... because... she came here with me."

For a moment, the cameras held on Peeta's downcast eyes as what he said sunk in. Then Katniss could see her face, mouth half open in a mix of surprise and protest, on every screen as she realized, her!

He couldn't be serious! Katniss pressed her lips together and stared at the floor. What was he thinking? They never even talked before they were reaped. Besides-

It didn't matter. What was he doing?

"Oh, that is a piece of bad luck," Caesar offered, and there was a real edge of pain in his voice. The crowd was murmuring in agreement; a few even gave agonized cries.

"It's not good," agreed Peeta, slumped in the couch.

"Well, I don't think any of us can blame you. It'd be hard not to fall for that young lady."

"She didn't know?"

Of course she didn't or she would have ensured Peeta would have never made it on this stage. Now he was lucky if he made it back to their apartment if she got her hands on him.

Peeta shook his head. "Not until now."

"Wouldn't you love to pull her back out here and get a response?" Caesar asked the audience. The crowd screamed in assent. "Sadly, rules are rules, and Katniss Everdeen's time has been spent. Well, best of luck to you, Peeta Mellark, and I think I speak for all of Panem when I say our hearts go with yours."

The roar of the crowd was deafening. Peeta had absolutely wiped the rest of us off the map with his declaration of love for her. When the audience finally settled down, he choked out a quiet "Thank you" and returned to the line up of the tributes on the stage.

They wanted tears from her, but all it took from Peeta was a blush and a story, and suddenly he was the tragic hero.

They stood for the anthem. She had to raise her head out of the required respect and cannot avoid seeing that every screen is now dominated by a shot of Peeta and her, separated by a metre that in the viewers' heads can never be breached. Poor tragic them.

After the anthem, the tributes file back into the Training Center lobby. The crowd slowed the entourages of stylists and mentors and chaperones.

"Katniss-" His hand barely touched her before she whirled around and pushed him into the wall, snarling.

"What was that?"

"Katniss I-"

"You know what-" Katniss grasped his collar in both her hands. "I don't care. Just keep your little lies and mind games to yourself, understood? I'm not entertaining this or you."

She pushed him further into the wall just as Haymitch and Effie rounded the corner, the latter hissing her name. She didn't care stalking off to the elevators only now seeing the little audience to her outburst.

Clove and Cato stood in the elevator, both with their arms crossed, both smirking like the whole scene had been staged for their amusement. But just before the doors closed, Clove’s gaze cut past Katniss to Peeta.

The smirk stayed, but her eyes narrowed, sharp and assessing. Not the careless glee of Cato, but something quieter, more deliberate, like she’d just measured a new variable on the board.

Katniss’ stomach tightened. She told herself it was only another reminder—Clove didn’t miss anything, didn’t forgive any weakspots, and wouldn’t forget that little declaration Peeta had made. That was fine.

Katniss wouldn’t either.

Clove's tongue darted over her teeth, quick, like she was savoring the thought.

Katniss told herself it was just proof of what she already knew—Cato might be the muscle, but Clove was the one to watch. The one who didn’t miss a weakness. And now she’d seen one laid bare on live television no matter if it was true or not.

*

The last evening before the Games, the penthouse was stormed.

Katniss had barely finished her dinner when the door banged open, Effie’s shrill protest drowned under laughter and the smell of something sharp already sloshing from glass bottles. Cato had an armful, Glimmer at his side with a plate full of sweet cakes, and the District Four pair-Lir and Marina—trailed behind, already flushed. Clove almost unnoticed in Marvel's stumbling shadow.

“Last hurrah before we’re all famous!” Cato roared, ignoring Haymitch’s bark to keep out of the penthouse.

They flooded the room, uncaring of Effie's protests or Haymitch trying to stand in their way, Cato didn't even look, shoulder checking him out the way. Haymitch, drunk as always dropping onto a couch. Someone shoved open the balcony doors - warm night air poured in.

Katniss barely had time to stand, meeting Peeta's shell-shocked expression, before Marvel had an arm around her shoulder and hauled her along to the balcony. Giggling like a schoolgirl, smelling like liquor.

Found herself pressed to the railing with a cup she didn’t want in her hand.

The liquor burned. Katniss coughed at the first sip, cheeks hot, but kept the glass anyway. She never had liquor before. Used it as disinfectant. Or to trade. Any other use of it was a waste of money. But she kept a tight grip on her half full glass. Better to look the part, better to have something in her hand.

The Careers drank deep. Glimmer tipped her head back, howling into the stars. Marina told a joke that made no sense, something about an octopus and tickling it? Katniss didn't even know what an octopus was. Lir dared Marvel to climb onto the railing—he did, swaying before Clove’s clipped “Don’t be an idiot” sent him back down.

Katniss stayed quiet, lips damp with only the thinnest trace of the stuff, eyes scanning the city lights below. Their little gathering was nothing to the revelry going on in the Capitol streets. Sickening, lights spreading out in every direction, all consuming the Capitol like the disease it was. When she shifted her elbow on the railing, she realized Clove had done the same, a beat later. Close. Closer than usual.

“You don’t drink much,” Clove said under her breath.

“Don’t like the taste.” Katniss shrugged, letting her mouth quirk as if it was nothing. “I’d rather keep my aim straight.”

Clove’s gaze lingered, scrutinizing, sizing up her now ally and future enemy—something about the way her head tipped, mirroring Katniss’ lean against the rail, unsettled her.

Behind them the boys were louder, voices rising with their bravado.

“First to die,” Cato declared, raising his bottle. “That tiny stick from Eleven. The one who looks like she’d blow away in the wind.”

Katniss’ hand tightened on the railing, knuckles blanching. Rue. She wanted to punch him, uncaring of his size, bit her tongue instead; snorted. “More likely the boy from Seven. He couldn’t even hold an axe straight.”

That won her a cheer, though she tasted bile under her tongue.

“Or Lover Boy,” Marina cut in, slinging an arm over the railing beside her. “What do you think, Twelve? Want to take him out first? Wipe that whiny face off the board?”

The others laughed, too loud, liquor-sour.

Katniss bared her teeth in what passed for a grin. “Maybe. But maybe he'll trip off his platform first."

That set them off again, remembering Peeta falling off the climbing wall. All except Clove.

“Exactly, Why waste your arrows?” Clove cut in, her voice sharp with amusement. “He’ll talk himself to death before the first cannon.”

The others howled. But Clove’s eyes didn’t leave Katniss when she said it, who straightened.

She was watching her—not laughing, not jeering. Just watching. Katniss averted her gaze, looked over her shoulder at the others.

Marvel had Lir in a headlock, both stumbling with the weight of drink and their own bravado. Marina and Glimmer egged them on, while Cato shouted at them to at least make it fun, draw some blood, liquor sloshing over the rim of his cup.

The noise rose, sharp and too loud, bouncing off the marble balcony.

They barreled too close. Katniss saw it before it happened—the lurch of elbows, the stagger of boots—and without thinking she caught Clove by the waist, tugging her in tight to keep her clear.

“Careful,” she muttered, the word slipping out low, close enough to brush her breath against Clove’s temple.

For a second Clove froze. Not bristling, not snapping back. Hands on Katniss' sternum, cold even through her shirt. Strands of her hair tickling Katniss' jaw as she looked up, her dark eyes wide, so near Katniss could see the faint scatter of freckles the Capitol lights couldn't erase. Clove's breath caught, lips parting as if preparing to bite Katniss' hand off-

Then the boys collided with the railing where she’d been standing, hollering.

“Watch it!” Clove snapped, her voice cutting through their laughter like a knife. Her face flushing in anger, wrenching free of Katniss’ hold only to lean back into the same pose at the rail, shoulder just close enough to graze hers.

Katniss released a slow breath, keeping her eyes on the city below, heart hammering. Having the other girl so close. She almost expected a knife to stick out of her somewhere for daring to touch her.

It had been instinctive. She told herself it was alright. They were allies for now.

But Clove didn’t look away. Not for a long moment.

Katniss steadied her grip on the balcony rail, pretending to listen as Marina bragged about how many tributes she’d taken down by sundown tomorrow. The others laughed, voices thick with liquor as they outbid each other's imaginary for now kill counts. She only hummed at the right moments.

Beside her, Clove leaned in, shoulder brushing Katniss’ again. Not a shove, not accidental. Katniss glanced at her, and found those dark eyes already waiting, narrowed in thought like she was working something out. Surprisingly silent in the ongoing discussion.

When Katniss crossed her arms against the night chill, Clove did too. When she shifted her weight, Clove echoed the move, eyes steady on her. It felt like a challenge, not mimicry — the way wildcats circle, every motion measured.

Something in her eyes flickered, almost playful, but Katniss shoved the thought aside. Katniss tightened her jaw. Clove was reminding her who she’d have to face, sooner or later.

It made something coil uneasy in Katniss’ chest. To be watched so closely, with Clove calculating, something. When to end Katniss' life.

The boys roared behind them, Lir howling with laughter as Marvel dared him to finish a bottle of something bubbly in on go only for it to come out of his nose, Marvel nearly choking while Glimmer shrieked in disgust and the others howled. Clove didn’t even spare them a glance. Her gaze stayed fixed, sharp and assessing, as though Katniss herself was the game to be played.

Katniss forced her eyes down to the glowing sprawl of the Capitol. Her chest felt too tight, pulse thudding at her throat. It was just nerves. Just the Games pressing in.

She always felt like this before a hunt, skin prickling, senses sharpened. It meant danger was near. “You should get some sleep,” she tried to divert, voice tight, also finding a way out. “Tomorrow won’t be fun if you’re hungover.”

Clove smirked, leaning just a fraction closer so Katniss could hear her over the chaos. “Don’t worry about me.” A pause, a tilt of her head. “I’ll be fine.”

The words should have sounded like arrogance. Instead, there was a weight of promise in them, though she couldn’t have said why.

When Katniss shifted, leaning back against the rail, Clove did too, their shoulders nearly brushing. The closeness clung to her skin, sharper than the burn of the drink, Clove's scent lingering, encompassing, like a bullseye on a target.

*

The hovercraft’s hum pressed in from all sides, cold metal, far too small, rumbling underneath her feet, the vibration itching up her leg. Katniss kept her hands still on her knees, though the seat harness cut into her shoulders and her stomach churned with every shift of the hovercraft.

Clenching her teeth as a Capitol technician came and just took her arm, injecting something. Moving on to the next tribute. Besides the sounds of machinery and the technicians it was silent. Most tributes looking down, trembling. Her eyes took them all in and only the other Careers met her gaze. Most looking bored. Expectant.

Clove beside her for example. Fidgeting, all up in Katniss' space. Her elbow brushing Katniss’ arm, as if to remind her exactly who she was sitting next to.

A sharp, deliberate knock against her knee, Katniss turned just enough for their eyes to meet—a lift of defined brows, a smirk curling on her mouth, baring her canines, impatient.

Her presence pressed closer, like the one time the fence had been on back home, electricity sparking, thrumming in the air, making the fine hairs on the back of her neck rise. Thrumming underneath her skin. It was restless, hungry. Grinning at her like she couldn’t wait to see what color her blood would look against the arena dirt. Couldn't wait for them all to die.

Katniss clenched her teeth, gave her a simple nod of acknowledgement.

The lights above them flickered. For half a heartbeat, Katniss saw something slip—a ripple in Clove's expression, a flicker of a flash of wide-eyes. Fingers curling into the rest between them, whitening on the knuckles, before she could think about it, her knee rested against Clove's—a grounding presence. Watched Clove's eyes flicker down to the single point of contact before meeting her eyes. Then the expression was gone, replaced with a gleeful smirk and a bouncing leg which stayed pressed against hers.

Katniss must have imagined it.

She looked away deliberately, fixing her gaze straight ahead. The thought of Prim, safe at home for now, of the promise she made grounding. She thought of the bow she hoped was waiting in the arena for her.

She let her eyes sweep the hovercraft—twenty-three other tributes, each one of them thinking of ways to kill her. In a matter of moments she was going to kill them.

Hard to rationalize.

Still worse was the heat of Clove's restless energy beside her.

*

Sunlight blinded her, reflecting off the Cornucopia in the middle of the clearing. The tributes were arranged in a circle around the Cornucopia, Katniss shielded her eyes to take in her surroundings. A lake to her right. To her left woods, from appearance alone, similar to the forest back home.

Her direct neighbors weren't allies. She couldn't even remember their District. Peeta of all people was in her sight. Trying to catch her eye, shaking his head at her-

She ignored him, focused on the Cornucopia, searched and found the glint of silver. Her bow. She was sure it was the same one she used in her private showing. Just leaning against the Cornucopia.

The bow was less than fifty meters from her. A small distance, a sprint. They were on flat ground. Getting the bow would be easy. The alliance would hold at least for the bloodbath-

Six tributes accounted for. Of 24. The eleven might put a target on her but most would back off especially with her alliance with the Career pack. The moment she had her hands on the bow-

The gong sounded.

Katniss jumped from the platform, hit the ground hard but didn’t let it stop her. Sprinted to her prize. Slid the last meter, hands grasping the brow, shrugging the quiver onto her back, arrow already notched-

The boy in pursuit of her crumbled to the ground. She nocked another, felled another tribute in her path. Another sheath of arrows. Shrugged them onto her back too.

It was over. Glimmer was straddling someone, hacking away with an axe, blood spattering. Other Careers were doing much of the same whilst other tributes were running away most heading for the treeline to disappear.

Katniss could let them. Disappear. Live. It wouldn't matter. They stood between her and going home. In the end they needed to die.

One of them she got before they reached the forest. The clearing fell silent.

Animals. Not different from hunting animals Gale had told her.

The idea didn't hold as she went to collect her arrows. Needed to. Making her own out here would be pitiful.

Having to pull out her arrows out of the throats of other tributes, people with families waiting back home. Some had their eyes closed, some stared up at her accusingly.

Katniss didn't want to touch them. Closed their eyes so they wouldn't look. Cleaned the blood away on the sleeve of her jacket, paused when instead of an arrow she found a knife, resumed her actions. She tugged the knives free one by one, swiping them clean against her jacket.

It was easier this way. Weapons should be sharp and ready. Nothing more. In the end had collected her arrows, some knives, and a machete now hanging from her belt.

"So I've got one, what about you?"

Katniss startled, whirling around nearly punching an arrow straight through Marvel standing there, leaning on a spear.

Her heart hammered and for a moment, her fingers twitched to release the bowstring, just do it only for Clove to appear next to Marvel.

"And you want to brag about that? Did you do anything besides watch?" Clove walked past him while Katniss put down her bow halfway, the arrow remaining notched.

"Three," Katniss offered. Then held out the knives she had collected to Clove from her victims. It reminded her of training, pulling Clove’s blades free from dummies and piling them neatly at her feet.

Practical then, practical now. But the way Clove’s eyes lingered made it feel like she was keeping score.

Clove tilted her head, glanced at the clean knives before sheathing them in the vest secured squarely over her chest; a vest full of knives. Perfect. Just what the Career needed.

"Here. If you want to hunt, you'll need one to skin the game." Clove pulled a knife free, twirled it in her hand before offering it to her hilt first.

Katniss hesitated. Not understanding Clove's angle. The knife just in the palm of her hand. Far too innocent. Like a bad bargain. What did she want in return? Still Clove's foot scuffed the ground, impatient.

"Thanks." Katniss took it, ignoring how Clove's fingers brushed against hers, which ironically were unstained against her bloodied one's, lingered, then disconnected from her.

"Come on! Let's get to the lake, let them collect the bodies." Cato bellowed from the mouth of the Cornucopia. Jerking his head in the direction.

Katniss' gaze flickered over the clearing, now filled with their victims, ground soaked with blood. Even the steel of the Cornucopia was splattered with it.

She bit the insides of her cheeks, followed.

The others were already on the shore or in the water. Splashing around. Laughing. As nothing at all had happened. The birds trilled. And a hovercraft appeared. A claw descending. Collecting the dead.

Katniss couldn't watch. In her periphery saw a rabbit in the underbrush. Game. A food source apart from the Cornucopia. It didn't take more than a moment to shoot it. Mechanically almost.

Collecting firewood. Making the fire. Skin the rabbit, roasting it. She barely noted Clove's presence next to her. The sun crawling over the sky. She was quiet.

She gave the drumsticks to Clove.

“Careful,” Clove said, picking the bone clean. “You keep feeding me and I’ll start to think you want me alive.”

The meat tasted like ash on her tongue. So most of the meat ended with Clove. Sharing kept the peace, kept the pack together. Nothing more. None of the others cared for the rabbit, Glimmer wrinkling her nose, Marvel telling Lir to take a dive and collect them some fish.

Clove licked grease from her thumb, a streak glinting on her cheekbone. Katniss didn’t think. She just reached out and swiped it away with her thumb, the same way she’d done a thousand times for Prim when her sister ate too fast.

It was over in a heartbeat. Katniss wiped her hand on her trousers, already turning back toward the fire.

But the silence stretched. When she glanced up, Clove was watching her—knife idle, mouth curved. Glimmer’s brows shot up. Marvel snorted. Even Cato had paused mid-swallow, grin sharp as he took in the scene.

Katniss stiffened, heat prickling the back of her neck. “You had…something on your face.”

Clove tilted her head, eyes never leaving hers. “Did I?” The words rolled out slow, deliberate, as if she were savoring them more than the meat.

Katniss averted her gaze.

Afterwards she followed the others to sort out their bounty from the Cornucopia.

*

With dusk setting into night they went hunting. Hunting.

That's what Cato called it. The others howled like wolves eagerly chirping at his heels, skipping after him into the woods. Scaring away all wildlife. But of course that wasn't the prey they were after.

Katniss let them lead and when she noticed Clove lingering behind, not wanting to turn her back to her she held back branches, with a tilt of her head offered Clove to go first so Katniss would be at the rear. Clove brushed up against her, deliberately but walked past her. Offering some relief.

She had one of her bigger knives unsheathed; suited for close combat less for throwing even so Katniss was sure the girl would throw it regardless when necessary and hit mercilessly.

With all the noise of the others bickering and laughing Katniss hoped any tribute near would scatter before they came close. It seemed that way. The others started growing bored as visibility grew worse in the darkness with no targets in sight for their unused energy.

Katniss kept an eye on their surroundings, attention split between them and the canopy of the trees, the safest place to be, who would bed down on the ground if there were perfectly climbable trees here.

It was accidental. Chance. Eyes. Not those of an animal. Not like a raccoon reflective or a cat. Human. Form hidden in the tree.

Small. Slight. Her little shadow. Hovering before she ever started her alliance with the Careers.

Katniss' heart stopped. The others kept walking. Having noticed nothing. The picture of the small boy from 7 had already been in the sky.

Rue met her gaze peeking down at her and Katniss froze, shaking her head and motioning for her to stay down. Not to try to flee. Fleeing would get the Careers' attention. Rue didn't move, wide eyed.

Katniss patted her pocket. She collected food, stored ration bars like the ones Peacekeepers traded in the hob for meat on her person and a water canteen just in case as they had organized what bounty the Cornucopia held.

She needed to hurry. With a last glance she threw one of the ration bars up to Rue, flinching as the Careers started hooting and hollering quickly catching up to them.

Only to see what they were enthused about. Fire. In the darkness a beacon.

Some poor, incredibly stupid soul had made a fire to keep warm in the night's chill or for food and didn't put it out at nightfall. Katniss waited how they would play it. The tribute still had a chance if they were moving in with the same stealth as they had come so far but Cato pointed for them with his sword to surround the tribute. Cut off any escape.

"Room for one more?" Cato asked, stepping out of the trees, startling the female tribute who scrambled to her feet to run only to nearly run headfirst into Lir.

"Don't leave so soon, we are just getting started."

They all stepped out of the dark now the tribute whirling around, searching desperately for an escape. Finding none. Started to beg. Katniss wanted to look away.

"Please, please don't kill me, please-

"Who wants to do the honours"

"Oh, let me have her, please Cato." Glimmer simpered and Cato offered her a machete instead of her own spear.

Glimmer grinned closing in on the tribute which tried to get past Marvel who just shoved her to the ground. Glimmer followed. Brutalized her. Hacking away with the machete, no technique. Just brutality. Blood spattered covering Glimmer.

"She doesn't even have anything good." Lir declared, letting the bag of the tribute fall to the ground.

"We don't waste anything. Pick it up." Clove ordered, tone ice.

Lir clutched his trident shaking his head. "Be my guest, haul back that trash yourself if you want it."

Clove stepped forward hands on the big knives strapped to her waist-

"You heard her. We bring it with us. Stop bitching or are you too weak to carry one small bag back?" Cato interrupted, crossing his arms, face cast in shadow in the flames of the fire.

Marvel therewhile took a branch out of the flames like a makeshift torch. "Come on, perhaps there are more around."

Glimmer stood wiping her face with the back of her arm following hot on Cato's heels. "Did you hear her? Pathetic. Oh no please don't kill me!" Glimmer mimicking the begging tribute.

"That actually sounded like her." Cato laughed, taking the lead again.

"Sounded like you." Marvel deadpanned, causing Glimmer to kick him in the shin while the others laughed.

"Wait, do you hear that?"

"Hear what?" Marina asked Cato.

"Nothing. No canon."

The tribute. Almost as one the pack turned around into the direction they came. Where Rue was also hiding.

Katniss met Clove's eyes. She didn't want them anywhere close to Rue.

"I'll check." Without waiting for leave or agreement she went back.

Fire still burning. The tribute a grotesque mess. Chest moving slightly. Glimmer hadn't even killed her. She wanted to beg for forgiveness. But guilt would not absolve her of what she had witnessed, stood aside and let be done.

This wasn't hunting. Prey was killed clean. To preserve the meat and skin. They tried to inflict the least suffering as possible. This was-

Breathing the slightest wheeze and still even in the dark present enough when she was noticed, the tribute's eyes went wide. Conscious of her presence. Terrified.

Though too far gone for help.

"It's over now." She used a knife, settled it between ribs, one clean stab and it was truly over the cannon sounding.

At least her eyes had closed. Katniss wiped the knife on her sleeve, heavily rising from her crouch.

"How long did you think I wouldn’t notice?"

Katniss froze, knife handle still slick in her hand, blood smeared across her jacket. Looking away how it stained her hands.

How long had Clove been standing there, just casually in the dark leaning against the tree, arms crossed, no weapon in sight? It didn't mean anything.

"Notice what?”

"Don't play dumb." Clove pushed away from the tree, closing the distance and Katniss' pulse jolted, eyes locked on the other girl, head tilting as Clove circled her once, close enough their bodies brushed.

Trap. Play. She was trying to make Katniss drop her guard

She knew. Found out. Katniss cleared her throat.

"Enough dallying." Clove was in front of her and in a movement Katniss could barely follow, grasped the collar of her jacket, yanked her down.

She was going to kill her.

With her lips on hers.

Kissed her.

Kissed her.

Their teeth clashed; Clove took Katniss’ startled gasp as invitation, tongue pushing in, fierce and hungry. Groaning, arching up against Katniss' body.

Clove’s nails dug lightly into her jaw. Katniss’ hands hovered uselessly before landing, hesitant, on Clove’s hips, unsure, transferring the blood on her hands, not that Clove seemed to care, biting down on her lower lip, only to suck at it causing Katniss to nearly lose her balance, clutch tighter at Clove, a groan reverberating between them.

Breathless Katniss' eyes fluttered back open, when had they closed? To see Clove's face inches from her, lips darkened and wet with saliva, hers-

Her hand on Katniss' face, on Katniss' neck, present not deadly despite the way her heart raged against her ribcage hard enough she could taste it on her tongue.

How had she gotten here? Clove rocked up on her tip toes, kissed her again, left her with a sharp stinging bite to her lower lip.

"C'mon we probably should catch up to the others." Clove left her space with the suddenness of her arrival, nonchalant, with a last heated look thrown over her shoulder and a jerk of her head, a command to follow her then stepped into the thicket of the forest.

Expecting Katniss to obey. Mind blank, Katniss stumbled after her, licking her lips and tasted iron — hers or Clove’s, she couldn’t tell.

Chapter Text

Katniss used the first chance to disappear back into the woods away from the Careers, away from those intense dark eyes burning into her skin. The tiny Career hadn't left her side, even to sleep the Career had been close enough her jacket rustled against Katniss', close enough she hadn't been able to sleep a wink.

Utterly confused. Not knowing what mind games Clove was attempting to pull. While the others were either lazing around or still rummaging through their supplies she had offered to go hunt. Which she did. Having put down a few snares, a rabbit and a weird bird already hanging from her belt.

Though it wasn't her main focus. She wanted to find Rue. Ensure she was alright. Had water and food. Enough to hide and stay out of sight. In the light of day it was easy to find the tree Rue had been in yesterday but of course she wasn't there anymore.

Katniss grinned to herself, remembering Rue stealing a dagger from Marvel causing nearly a fight between him and Lir as they accused each other in training. It almost had come to blows on day three and there had been Rue - up in a netting on the ceiling playing with the dagger she must have stolen and sneaked off with - smiling.

Rue was quick. She must be able to jump and climb the trees easily. She could be anywhere. It would be smart to remain near the lake, to have a water source, trees which would conceal her.

Katniss followed along the starting tree, bow halfway raised, arrow notched, eyes scanning the tree canopies and the rest of her surroundings. Trying to hear something over the sound of bird song.

She didn't know how long it was before the familiar sensation of being watched crawled up her neck. Katniss paused. Turned in place. Three possible trees. Wind rustling through the leaves, wildlife scrambling through underbrush.

Katniss lowered her bow. "I'm not here to hurt you." No answer. Was she imagining things? The fine hairs on her neck rose. "Rue? You don't have to be afraid of me." She wasn't going to hurt her.

"You are with them." Katniss jolted, forced herself to turn around slowly to see Rue peek out behind a tree, on the ground.

"For now." Katniss licked her lips, sheathed the bow. Unsure what to do. Didn't want to explain everything. Especially because she didn't have much time before her absence would be suspicious. "Are you hungry?"

Rue tilted her head, studying her and Katniss shrugged off the backpack she brought, rifling through it. "I have some things for you. I'd offer some meat but smoke would draw attention, but i have more ration bars and apples-"

Rue closed the distance between them and Katniss forced herself to remain still. "Why?"

"Why not? If you'd have me I'd like to be your ally, for real."

Rue paused and she looked small, far too small to be out here alone. Then her eager nods betrayed her shy little grin and when Katniss officially offered her hand to shake, Rue clutched it, not letting go.

"I'm not sure what these do, but the sleeping bag should help with the chill at night."

Rue stopped her chewing, quite hungry, growing wide eyed and taking the glasses in Katniss' hand. "Those are night goggles! We sometimes get a few of them to be able to harvest at night!"

Katniss listened to Rue's animated explanation and the sad story about the boy, in disbelief how the District who grew the food could starve right in front of it. About groosling, the weird bird hanging from her belt. Rue tried to give her the glasses back but Katniss shook her head.

"Keep them. One less pair for the others. And it's better if you can see what's happening at night. So you have the sleeping bag. I sorted your backpack for you-"

"You can have my extra socks in exchange, with the sleeping bag I don't need those." Rue offered genuinely and Katniss smiled at her, seeing her curls bounce and started to pluck the groosling and skin the rabbit to have something to do with her hands.

"You never know, when you get wet or need to stem bleeding you should keep them."

"Then at least take some of them." Rue divided some nuts, roots and berries, berries which looked like nightlock.

"Are you sure they are safe? They look like some poisonous berries I know from back home?"

"Oh yes, they have a similar berry I've seen it here too. But look in the light, this one is more lilac and the other has more of a blue tint." Rue held it up into the sunlight and before Katniss could ask more questions threw it in the air and caught it in her mouth, chewing happily-

Nothing happened, despite her hammering heart. Nightlock killed in seconds.

"Huh." Katniss blinked, then added. "Oh, and don't try to get too far away from the Cornucopia. Stay in a safe radius. If you get too far away from another tribute or to the edge of the arena the Careers told me the Gamemakers are prone to intervene, herd tributes back together."

Rue nodded, finishing her second apple. "You should be careful if you climb trees. I noted a handful of trackerjacker nests around. They actually left quite a few of them in Eleven. Those are-" Rue shivered and Katniss reached out, rubbed her shoulder, big brown eyes glancing up at her then leaning into her side.

Katniss led herself smooth over her curls once. Didn't want to leave her. But the sun was already past noon, so she needed to return. "I have to go back."

"Already?" Rue's fingers curled around her wrist. Fiddling with Katniss' jacket.

Katniss nodded. "I'll come back as soon as I can."

Rue tilted head. "Oh, I know how you can find me! The mockingjays. It's how we pass along when the work day is done." She whistled a clear four note melody. "That's our signal. You whistle and I find you!" Rue clapped her hands excited while all around her the signal rung out, whistles echoing.

Like when her father used to sing and the mockingjays would fall silent and then sing back to him. They sang for Rue too.

"Okay." Katniss stood, strapping the backpack to Rue and then handing her a knife. Rue took it but swallowed, thickly. "For your protection. Keep it close. Be careful with it. Bed down early. If anything happens-" Katniss paused, licked her lips. "Call for me. I'll come, alright?"

Rue's gaze flicked between her eyes, and then before Katniss could say anything more Rue embraced her, arms tight around her middle. Katniss hugged her back.

With difficulty Katniss watched Rue leave. Took her own leave in the direction back to the Cornucopia.

Lost in thought she still noticed another groosling stumbling into her path. Another wouldn't hurt. It even was set in the right direction.

Steps quiet. The familiarity of the woods, the smell of pines and rotten leaves, the chirping of birds, the settling of her heartbeat-

It was all soothing. Pulling the bowstring back it touched her cheek. For a moment she just had the groosling in her sight. Before the near silent footsteps behind her registered, familiar.

"Don't miss," Clove. Voice low, smug and her hand ghosted over Katniss' hip, her front moulding to Katniss' back for a moment, her heat bleeding into Katniss, as their bodies aligned, her chin hooked over her shoulder. Her cold nose brushing Katniss' jawline. Katniss tensed, arms shaking under the strain of her not released arrow.

Clove stepped back-just far enough to let Katniss take the shot, though her warmth lingered. Had already infested Katniss. Seeping deeper into her skin into her muscles.

The arrow flew clean. Katniss turned around to have Clove in her sight, who grinned like she’d been the one to land it.

Batting her lashes almost playfully. "Passable." Clove tilted her head, palm coming to rest on Katniss' sternum.

Trespassing into Katniss’ space like she owned it. Too close to her heart, too dangerous. Without even needing a weapon.

"Look at you, frolicking through the woods, killing little critters, trying to impress someone?" Her hand shifted upwards until it rested over Katniss' thundering heart.

Katniss cleared her throat. "Who would I be trying to impress?"

"Hmm, yes who would you?" Clove was suddenly so close, almost murmuring the next part against Katniss' lips. "I can feel your heartbeat, is that for me?"

In contrast to the soft murmur, Clove almost dragged down Katniss by the neck to her height to kiss her again. Pulled her into a hard, fierce kiss.

She’d barely managed to breathe since the first. Her lips still stung, her chest still hurt, and here Clove was again, pressing her mouth to hers like Katniss hadn’t just died once already.

She was hyper-aware of the warmth of Clove's body against her own. The heated press of her mouth. The strength of her grip on Katniss' neck and jacket. Nails scraping through her jacket down her chest down to her abdomen, leaving fiery trails, having her push closer to Clove instinctively. A soft gasp escaped her lips, her stomach flipped as if she was going to be sick. A tongue met hers.

This time there was no taste of iron. Just Clove. Slick and heat. Some sweet flavour from something she ate. Clove's waist gave under her hands, where Katniss' was clutching her, steadying herself, jacket rumpling baring softer skin beneath. Clove in response only pulled her in tighter.

This kiss was messier than the first, open-mouthed, breaths tangling. Clove’s mouth moved like she wanted to win at this, too — lips catching, pulling, then yielding just long enough to steal another breath. Katniss decided whatever this was she wouldn't yield an inch.

When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathing hard, lips swollen, the space between them thin as a blade. Katniss' pulse thundered in her ears, while Clove pulled back slightly pupils, almost swallowing the brown of her eyes whole, licking her lips and then she cupped Katniss' cheek with her thumb tracing over her lower lip.

Katniss' tongue felt heavy in her mouth, the taste of Clove lingering. Her heart hammered. Her stomach twisted. The ground seemed to tilt under her boots. Katniss swallowed hard and for one wild, spiraling second she was convinced she’d been poisoned.

It made sense. Of course it did. What else could explain the way her knees wobbled, the way her vision swam, the way her chest burned like she couldn’t draw in enough air?

Slow-acting venom, smeared on Clove’s mouth, slipped past her lips. A clever little sponsor gift, something meant to kill her in agony for daring to linger in the pack. A literal kiss of death.

Her body was shutting down, same as the rabbits she’d seen twitch when they’d eaten the wrong berries. Except she hadn’t swallowed berries — she’d swallowed Clove. Which was worse.

She could hear her own blood rushing in her ears. Any moment now, her body would fold, she’d be convulsing in the pine needles, choking on the sweetness Clove had pressed into her mouth.

"C'mon, I guess we have to go back. But we'll definitely continue this, now I got a taste." Clove purred, rocking up on her tip toes for another kiss before drawing back. Then with a jerk of her neck reminded her. "Don't forget the bird. I do like your brand of providing." She walked backward a few steps, gave her a wink and waiting for Katniss to spring into motion.

Katniss mechanically did pick up the groosling, hands trembling, it made a squelching sound as she grabbed its neck too tight. Followed after Clove, heart jumping every step of the way back to the Cornucopia as their knuckles brushed.

*

Katniss startled awake to a nudge at her boot. Her hand flew for her bow before Marvel’s grin came into focus, easy as ever.

“Shift’s yours,” he said, rocking back on his heels, spear slung over his shoulder like it weighed nothing.

It was then awareness came: weight tucked against her side. Clove’s head on her shoulder, nose pressed into the crook of her neck, her breath steady and warm against her skin. One arm sprawled across Katniss’ ribs as if she had always belonged there.

Marvel’s grin widened, mischief in his eyes. “You know, I’ve got a girl waiting for me back home. Lot sweeter than this mess.” His gaze flicked deliberately to Clove and back, boyish smirk never fading. “Smart to sleep with a knife close at hand… though I don’t know if you had to invite the whole wielder into your bed.”

Katniss’ stomach lurched. “It’s not—she—”

He only chuckled, backing off with his hands raised, like it was all a harmless joke. “Clove seems to have you handled. Short leash, that one.”

Katniss froze, pulse thundering, though she gave him a glare. Clove shifted against her side in her sleep, a little weightier, a little warmer.

Her nose brushed against dark hair, strands teasing her cheek. She had bedded down close to the tiny Career to keep her in sight, to be able to take action if needed, not close enough for this.

Katniss pressed her lips shut, trying not to think about what Marvel had meant.

Marvel waggled his brows like it was the funniest thing in the world before slipping away, leaving her to sit up carefully. Clove stirred with her, stretching like a cat.

"Time for our shift?"

Right. Clove had volunteered them both for the same guard shift.

They sat by the fire in silence. Night goggles casting the trees in eerie green. Katniss worried the string of her bow between her fingers, restless. Clove’s knee bounced beside her, energy barely contained.

Then Clove leaned close. “Saw something,” she murmured. “Come on.”

Katniss didn’t question it. She rose instantly, bow strung, arrow notched, following Clove into the trees.

The forest closed around them, damp earth and pine sharp in her nose. Katniss scanned the shadows, every muscle taut. Her ears tracked each step, but then—

Silence.

She turned. And nearly dropped her bow.

Clove stood bare-chested in the moonlight, her jacket and shirt tossed aside, pale skin glowing stark against the dark.

Katniss’ breath hitched, her fingers went slack. The bow thudded useless to the dirt.

This wasn’t—this wasn’t how breasts looked in the anatomy sketches from the medical texts at home. Her stomach swooped. Too soft, too full, nothing neat or clinical about them. Her nipples were a pale pink, not the clinical grey of the illustrations. Her rational brain scrambled, trying to catalogue, to understand, while blood flooded her cheeks, her mouth bone-dry, her heart slamming.

“Like what you see?” Clove purred.

Katniss couldn’t answer her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. Couldn’t look away.

Clove’s smirk curved sharper. She closed the space in two strides, pressing Katniss back into the rough bark of a tree. Katniss stiffened at the bark biting into her shoulders; her chest rising too fast against Clove’s knuckles. Her hands slid up the front of Katniss’ jacket, dragged the zipper down.

Quick without hesitation. Her lips brushed Katniss’ jaw as she murmured, “You want it?”

Katniss didn’t reply. She couldn’t. Swayed, caught between the tree and the tiny Career. Her instincts answered for her. She surged forward, crushing their mouths together, drowning in heat and want before her mind could even catch up.

Clove growled in approval, yanking her jacket off her shoulders, fumbling with her shirt. Katniss gasped into her mouth, pulling at bare skin, feeling the press of muscle and the softness that gave beneath her palms.

The world narrowed to Clove’s body against hers, the rasp of their breath, the clash and catch of lips, the sharp nip of teeth. Katniss clutched at her, desperate, her hands sliding up until she cupped Clove’s breast. Her nipples were stiff, pressing against Katniss' palm. Heavy in her hand, and her thumbs brushed over subtle bumps around her nipples, unexpected against the smooth swell. The answering moan vibrated against her tongue, wrecking her.

Clove’s hips rolled into hers, hard and unrelenting. Katniss arched, a strangled sound lost between their mouths with every grind. The kiss grew messier, wetter, breaking only long enough to gasp, then crashing together again. Bare skin meeting.

Her eyes closed, moaning when Clove, in contrast to the graze of her usual teeth, lightly ran the very tip of her tongue around the outline of her lips, her heartbeat settling lowly in her gut, pulsing with every beat. Heat all compassing as her hand tangled itself in Clove’s hair, pulling her impossibly closer.

Her other hand, running up along Clove’s neck. The kiss turned wetter, more urgent, Clove panting as Katniss’ tongue slid against hers, not satisfied with exploring, needing to claim.

Katniss broke away just enough to breathe, then dove back in, pressing deeper into Clove, who kissed her like she wanted to crawl inside her skin.

Katniss shifted, sliding one thigh between Clove’s legs. Clove’s body jolted in response, hips twitching forward. She didn’t know when she’d moved, only that Clove shuddered against her. Clove gasped, grabbing fistfuls of Katniss’ hair, yanking her back up for another kiss.

Their mouths crashed together again, teeth clacking briefly before Clove melted into it, gasping into Katniss’ mouth with every roll of her hips. Katniss drank in every single one of her sounds, fingers twisting in Clove’s hair, silken between her fingers, to bare her throat and nip down the column of it. Her hands wandered, tracing up the ridges of her abdomen. Muscle coiled beneath softness.

Clove surged up, kissing her like it was the last thing she’d ever do, tongue tangling with hers, fingers clawing into her back, dragging nail-trails that would burn into her back, claiming her. As if she wanted Katniss to feel her for days.

They stumbled down to the ground, jackets tossed beneath them. Their teeth clashed again as Clove shoved her down, their jackets barely cushioning bark and dirt. Clove pushed Katniss flat, straddling her. Grinding. Kissing. Tasting. Katniss gave up any thought of restraint, her hands everywhere, holding, clawing, needing.

The world blurred into heat and skin and the pounding of her pulse until there was nothing else.

*

Katniss lay flat on her back, the jackets bunched under her shoulder blades damp with sweat, the night air cooling too fast against her bare skin. Clove was draped over her like some satisfied predator, head tucked underneath her jaw, breath evening out. Her body heavy and hot across Katniss’ ribs.

Katniss didn’t move. Couldn’t. Her heart still thundered, but the rush that had carried her was ebbing, leaving her raw and aching. Her palms stung from clutching too hard, her lips swollen, her whole body humming like she’d loosened a hundred arrows in one breath.

Her mind finally caught up.

What had she just done?

How had she let herself be dragged under like that, stripped down to skin and instinct by someone she should never trust? She could still feel Clove’s hands ghosting everywhere — curious, searching, like she wanted to pry Katniss apart down to bone and sinew. She had been dismantled. Exposed.

And she hadn’t stopped it.

Her skin still burned everywhere Clove had touched, as if the girl had left her fingerprints inside her.

What was worse, her body had leaned in, answered every kiss, chased every press of heat with a hunger she hadn’t known lived in her. She’d wanted it — wanted her — even as her head screamed danger.

A tremor ran through her, part shame, part awe. It had been terrifying, the way Clove touched her — like she was being devoured and remade in the same breath. Terrifying, and yet some dark, secret part of her had burned to let it happen.

Katniss clenched her jaw. This wasn’t strategy. It wasn’t survival. It wasn’t anything that would bring her home to Prim. It was weakness. A slip.

Still, she couldn’t shove Clove off. Not when the girl was curled so easily against her side, arm thrown across her stomach, the sharp little dagger of her nose buried in her neck like she was harmless. Like she was just a girl, sated and soft, instead of the blade Katniss knew she was.

Buttercup, she thought bitterly. A mean-tempered, clawed thing, asleep for now, but claws all the same.

Katniss lay stiff and sleepless under her, every inch of her body remembering what had just happened even as her mind tried — and failed — to make sense of it.

"Who taught you how to shoot?" It was a husk, lips brushing with every word against her skin and Katniss stiffened.

Not asleep then. "My father." She offered, after a too long moment. Suddenly acutely aware of the bareness of her skin, goosebumps rising.

Fingers ran down her side, a thoughtful hum. "Probably proud to see you use your teachings so well."

Katniss closed her eyes. To kill. His clear, strong voice was growing fainter in her mind, the way it chimed when he sung, leading her through the forest. Far more proud, the corners of his eyes crinkling when she named the plants they collected for her mother right, when her voice joined his than when she shot something.

"He's dead." Katniss sat up, this was too much.

Clove grumbled at the sudden movement, holding onto her but Katniss only steadied her long enough to slip out underneath her.

Pulled up her pants were they had been pushed to the back of her knees, searched for the rest of clothes in the dark. Couldn't find her shirt.

"Looking for this?"

Katniss turned around, nearly swallowing her tongue. Clove was thoroughly mussed. Was standing there as brazenly as when this all had started. Perhaps a few marks along her throat and chest more.

Now it was impossible to unknow the taste of her skin, the weight of her breasts in her hand, the flutter of her heartbeat underneath the overwhelming softness-

Clove cleared her throat and Katniss shook her head, gaze flicking back up to see the smirk on Clove's lips. She grasped her shirt in Clove's hand, who didn't let go, pulled her into another kiss. All tongue and teeth. Left her breathless and knees weak.

Her fingers twitched to reach out and pull Clove closer again as they parted, to do this all over again with Clove's smooth skin under her fingertips, until the iciness of Clove's hand on her cheek registered.

Instinctively she had it cupped between both of her hands, rubbing it to get the blood flowing and warmth back into the limb.

"You should get dressed. The last thing we need is you catching hypothermia."

Clove tilted her head, the corners of her mouth quirked up. "You'll keep me warm, won't you?"

Katniss straightened back up, releasing Clove who got dressed as well. They finished quickly and Katniss wanted to run back to the Cornucopia and get away, put on the goggles, only settling a little bit with having her bow back in her hands.

Not with Clove trailing so close behind her, her hand brushing against Katniss', against the small of her back.

She needed distance. Luckily dawn was already approaching meaning their guard shift was over. She left it to Clove to shake Glimmer and Lir awake, settling in her usual spot against the side of the Cornucopia padded with a few backpacks to keep the chill of the metal away. The nights got cold enough as it was.

Katniss had just settled, arms crossed over her bow, hands disappearing in her sleeve, eyes closing when she jolted with Clove not even pretending distance. "It is chilly."

With total entitlement to Katniss' space, she gingerly took the bow from Katniss' hands, rested it next to them and then nudged her legs apart, dropped in between them. Settling with her back against Katniss' front, pulling a sleeping bag to use as a blanket to cover them both.

Resting her head underneath Katniss' chin, her hair tickling. The smell of forest and steel encompassing.

Her pulse spiked. Her hands hovered, useless. Distance, she needed distance, but Clove was already burrowing in. "Hmm, this isn't bad, you are comfortable enough."

A hand found hers. "What if someone attacks us?"

Clove chuckled. "No one would dare. But don't worry, before anyone gets close I put them down, so you can wake up and play with your bow."

Katniss wasn't reassured. She wouldn't sleep a wink.

*

Katniss wanted to say she hadn’t slept after. After the fire burned low, even after the camp had gone quiet, she’d lain stiff, Clove draped over her front like she owned the space there. Every shift of the girl’s weight, every brush of her nose against Katniss’ throat, replayed what had happened until her body hummed raw and restless. But the truth was, the warmth and closeness made her drowsy and not even her spiraling mind could keep her awake.

Though morning made it worse. Daylight made it worse. Clove only made it worse. She was everywhere. Brushing past when there was space enough not to. Letting her fingers trail too long against Katniss’ wrist when she passed her something. Always close. Staring.

Katniss’ eyes betrayed her, meeting her gaze, catching every movement, every knife twirl, every curve. She couldn’t breathe under the intensity, under the weight on Clove's attention.

So when the chance came, she seized it. “I’ll go with Lir,” she said, maybe too fast, when hunting parties were divvied up.

Clove’s gaze slid to her, unreadable. Though her forehead creased, she didn’t argue. Katniss left before she could.

Lir luckily was silent. Or at least he wasn't talking. He was stomping through the woods, scaring away all wildlife, leaving Katniss only with her own mind as company, staring blankly at his back.

And then they found the boy mid-day. Young, maybe fourteen. Frightened. When he caught sight of them, he tried to run only to trip. Started to scramble backward while Lir advanced, palms skidding on pine needles. He didn't have a weapon. Or left it behind with his supplies. His eyes were wide.

“Please,” he rasped. “Please don’t—don’t kill me.” His voice cracked on the word, so raw it made Katniss’ stomach twist. He crawled backward, heels digging, trying to get away.

Lir only laughed. Twirling his trident lazily, savoring the way the boy shook. “Pathetic. I’ll take my time with this one. Crowd’ll love it.” He stepped onto the boy's ankle, crushingly making him scream.

“Stop.” The word was out of Katniss’ mouth before she thought.

Lir turned, disbelieving. “What?”

“Let him go.”

The boy’s gaze snapped to her, desperate. Katniss’ throat tightened.

Lir’s face darkened. “Are you joking?”

“I said let him go.” Katniss’ bow was already raised, her arms steady even though her heart thundered.

Lir sneered. “So you’re not only soft but also a traitor?” He lifted his trident. "Fine, first I'll deal with you and then with him." He pulled back the trident as if to throw it.

That was the only opening Katniss needed.

The arrow took him in the neck, clean and sudden. His trident fell with a dull thud. He collapsed; the cannon fired.

The boy froze, eyes huge. Katniss didn’t lower her bow. “Run.”

He scrambled up and fled, crashing into the trees until his sobs faded. Katniss stood over Lir’s body, made sure he was holding the trident so it would be picked up with him, then stepped far enough away so the hovercraft appeared. Carried him away.

Her pulse was still hammering when she turned back toward camp.

“It was a trap,” she said flatly when Glimmer’s eyes narrowed at Lir’s absence.

“What kind of trap?” Glimmer pressed, suspicion sharp in her voice.

Katniss met her gaze without blinking. “Didn’t see. He went down fast. I wasn't going to risk it to investigate.”

Marina’s jaw worked, unsettled, but she stayed silent.

Before either could dig further, Cato burst through the trees, grinning wide, blood smeared up his arm. Glimmer of course was quick to tell him but didn't expect his reaction.

“Figures. Lir was an idiot. Seriously stepping into a Gamemakers trap? Should’ve seen it coming.” He tossed down a backpack, unconcerned. “Clove and I bagged one. Easy.”

No more questions after that and Katniss sat cross-legged on the cold ground, gnawing on a strip of dried meat. She chewed without tasting, eyes fixed on the dirt, mind running in useless, frantic loops.

It had been reckless enough to kiss Clove. To let herself be kissed again. But last night— her chest tightened just thinking of it. She had given Clove everything. Or maybe Clove had taken it.

Her thoughts twisted into dark little spirals, half-remembered from hours watching animals in the woods. Black widows luring in males, mating, and then eating them alive. Praying mantises snapping spindly heads clean off, mandibles grinding while the body still twitched. Nature at its most efficient, disguising death in the lure of life.

Wasn’t that what Clove had done? Pulled her in with heat and hunger, all soft lips and sharp hands, only to hollow her out from the inside? To leave her vulnerable, dazed, to go in for the kill? So why was her heart still beating?

She risked a glance up, heart pounding. Clove was crouched a few feet away, sharpening a knife on a whetstone, utterly at ease. She caught Katniss looking and tilted her head with that same infuriating grin, like she knew exactly what was running through Katniss’ head and was enjoying every second of it.

Clove had trailed in behind him, knives gleaming strapped to her vest, her eyes finding Katniss immediately. Too sharp. Too knowing. Did she know? Suspect?

She now crossed the space between them like it belonged to her, brushing Katniss’ arm as if she hadn’t been gone half a day.

Katniss’ lungs seized. Her skin still remembered Clove’s hands, her mouth, the heat of her body. And now she was here again, too close, grinning, radiant with blood.

"You smell like smoke," Clove murmured far too close.

Katniss wanted to push her away. Wanted to hold her still. Her thoughts knotted until she couldn’t tell one from the other.

When the anthem of Panem played that night, Katniss looked up with the rest. Lir’s face. And then—her stomach dropped. The boy. The one she’d spared. His picture burned huge and lifeless across the sky.

Her blood went cold. No. It had been futile. Everything in here seemed to be an act of futility.

Two dead today. Lir had been hers and then Cato and Clove had killed too.

Clove leaned in against her shoulder, euphoric, buzzing, all satisfaction. Her fingers caught Katniss’ chin, tilting her face until their eyes locked. “Eyes on me, yeah? Don’t forget—you’re mine now.”

Had it been her? Cato?

Katniss’ breath stuttered. The firelight gleamed off Clove’s teeth. When time to bed down came, Katniss tried to lie apart, to breathe. But Clove pressed in again, the same position as last night, Settling with her back against Katniss' front, pulling a sleeping back to use as a blanket to cover them both. Resting her head underneath Katniss' chin, her hair tickling. Curling close, her words low in the dark.

“You and your sister—you don’t look alike?”

“She looks like our mother.” Katniss’ voice was stiff.

“My father says I look like my mother.” Clove’s tone was flat, almost casual, but under it was an absence that cut.

Katniss swallowed, caught off guard.

“And the boy who carried her off in the Reaping? Your brother?”

“Gale,” Clove must have watched her reaping. And remembered all these details. “He’s a friend.”

“A friend.” The word curved sharp in Clove’s mouth. It raised the fine hairs at the back of Katniss’ neck—too much like the promise of a knife, promised to her.

She didn't like this. Clove was taking far too much and Katniss still didn't get her angle, just knew she couldn't keep giving. “Do you have any siblings?”

“No.” Clove’s grip tightened on her hand, claiming. “It’s just my father and me. I'm his legacy.” Her tone was simple, matter-of-fact. Her thumb pressed across Katniss’ pulse like she wanted to memorize it. “Now tell me something else. Something only I’ll know.”

Katniss froze. Her throat clicked. She couldn’t think of a single safe answer, but Clove’s warmth pressed in from every angle until there was no room left to think. Even if no words passed her lips Clove's eyes drunk her in as if she saw everything, as if she didn't even need Katniss to tell her.

Katniss closed her eyes. Even as Katniss’ mind scrambled for distance, Clove anchored her in place, her warmth pressing in from every crevice until there was no room left to think.

*

Katniss had been careful. Or thought she had been. Slipping away under the excuse of hunting, carrying enough game back each time so no one questioned her.

Rue always responded to their little signal, quick-footed and clever, arms full of roots or fruit in trade. Giddy and chattering about her District in between bites of food or asking about Twelve.

Though as dusk came this time, Rue fell silent, her gaze flicked over Katniss’ shoulder before Katniss even heard it. A twig snapped. Too heavy to be a squirrel. Too deliberate to be the wind.

Katniss picked her up and dropped Rue into the brush without thinking, already notching an arrow, pivoting toward the sound. Standing between whoever was coming and her little ally.

Clove stepped into the clearing, knife already in hand. Her eyes burned like coals.

“I should’ve known,” she hissed taking in the little camp, the water canteen, the food. “Slipping off, pretending you're just hunting. Meeting him, aren’t you? Lover boy. Thought you’d kill us all in our sleep once you were done stringing me along?”

Katniss froze. Rue was hidden behind her. She couldn’t let Clove see.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Katniss replied carefully, bow steady though her insides lurched.

Clove’s laugh was sharp, humorless. “You think I’m stupid? After everything? After this?” She stretched her arms out, then pointed the tip of her knife directly at Katniss, accusation sharpened into steel. “You played me. And I actually—” She cut herself off, jaw clamping shut. Something raw had slipped through, something she hadn’t meant to show.

Katniss’ heart hammered. She didn’t know what Clove meant. Strategy? Something else? She only knew she might have to fire if Clove lunged—though the idea had her chest burning.

And then, from the bush, a small voice piped up, guileless as birdsong.

“Ooo, you like her.”

The words hit like the sound of the cannon.

Katniss jolted. Clove’s arm dropped to her side. Her head tilted, eyes going wide, expression flickering between disbelief and dawning comprehension.

Clove turned crimson so fast it was almost comical, eyes wide. “What?”

Rue sat up in the brush, blinking owlishly between them, curls full of leaves. “That’s why you’re mad, isn’t it? You like her.”

Katniss’ heart plummeted. “Rue—” She hissed, lowering her bow in panic. “This isn’t funny. You shouldn’t have come out. Go—back—”

“The little one from Eleven?” Clove murmured, almost to herself. Her gaze snapped to Katniss, then back to Rue, then to Katniss again. “Your little shadow.”

Katniss’ stomach dropped.

"I'm her ally." Rue blinked innocently between them, curls tangled, utterly unaware of the storm she’d just unleashed.

Katniss turned around, held out her hand to help Rue out of the underbrush.

“Bedtime,” she ordered, hustling her away before Clove could recover, decide to fight.

Rue didn’t protest. Katniss boosted her into a tree, tied the knots herself, Rue yawned but wasn’t tired yet, blinking stubbornly down at Katniss.

“Sing,” she whispered.

Katniss hesitated. But Rue’s eyes were so earnest, so trusting, she couldn’t say no. She smoothed back her curls, pressed a kiss to her temple, and began. The lullaby fell soft and low through the branches until Rue’s breaths evened out, the knots secure, the girl safe.

When Katniss climbed down, Clove was still there. Still watching. No knife in her hand now.

They walked in silence, the forest pressing close, until the Cornucopia’s gleam broke the trees. Then Clove’s hand caught her wrist, pulling her in, heat and fury and something else sparking in her eyes.

“You know,” she murmured, voice low, “your whole lover boy thing? It’s done. You’re mine now. Not his.”

Katniss’ chin lifted, defiance sparking. “I don’t belong to anyone.”

Clove’s mouth curved into a sharp smile, though her ears were still red. “Wouldn’t want to see me angry,” she whispered. “You started this. It ends on my terms.”

Katniss swallowed. Rue safe in the trees. Clove not raising a knife. That alone was enough to unsettle her. Enough to make her wonder.

*

Once more fire was a beacon drawing the pack like moths to a flame. The others were buzzing with the chance of another kill, Cato and Glimmer at the front while Katniss once more took the rear with Clove lingering close. The fire drove them forward. Smoke hung thick, trees hissing with heat, branches crackling overhead. A wall of flames pushed through the forest like a tide, obviously Gamemaker-made, meant to flush prey into waiting jaws. Their waiting jaws.

And it worked.

Peeta stumbled out of the haze, ash streaked and limping, injured already. His blonde hair soot stained, face pale. For a breath they all stared—but Cato at the front, his sword was already in motion. Steel caught flesh before Peeta could turn fully, cutting into the back of his leg. He cried out, lurched away, staggering as fast as he could manage.

The Careers gave chase, shouting, laughing, hounds on his heels. Taunts. Cooing "Lover boy" and how he shouldn't leave so soon.

Katniss ran with them, her lungs burning with something sharper than smoke.

They drove him into the lake, where the shore broke wide and silver under the sun. Peeta splashed into the shallows, water up to his hips before his wounded leg buckled. He collapsed, dragging himself forward on his hands until he was kneeling, stranded, breath ragged. A waterfall frothed to one side, the rest of the forest to the other, but the shore was theirs.

Cutting of any escape even if Peeta could have run.

Cato grinned, sword dripping. “Lover boy, happy to see her a last time?" He pointed with his sword at Katniss. "How about one last little reunion. Go on, give the audience what they want. Kill your lover boy.” He jerked his head at Katniss.

The others hooted, clapped, eager.

Katniss forced herself to exhale, shrug. Sheathed her bow and instead reached for the machete on her hip before she dropped into the water. Mind racing. Desperately searching for a way out of this.

She had kept her distance on purpose. 23 other tributes. Why was the baker's son now in front of her blade? Her eyes caught on the canopy of a tree, a nest.

Peeta’s eyes narrowed as she approached, half-defiant, half-exhausted. “Come to finish me off? Don’t want to disappoint your new friends, right?" His anger and strength left him as he leaned farther back into the water, grimacing. "It’s fine. Go home to your sister, Katniss.”

She hissed. “You couldn’t have hidden better? Stayed away? Haymitch told you to clear out.”

“Us,” he rasped, wincing as he shifted his leg. “Are you actually mad at me for getting burned and stabbed?”

“Mildly burned. This is barely a scratch.” She crouched on her heels, water seeping into her clothes, taking in his injuries which were worse than a scratch and a mild burn.

The cut from Cato was bleeding even underwater, his hands and his side were covered in burns. She let the machete rest idly between them. Her foot nudged a stone, deliberate, sending it rolling. Her gaze flicked to it, then to the canopy above. Trackerjackers.

Just like Rue warned.

Peeta followed her eyes, then shook his head, blanched.

She pressed the machete lightly to his sternum, enough for him to feel the weight. “I haven’t forgotten the bread.”

His frown softened a fraction, even through tears pricked his eyes. “Of all the times…” He coughed, hissed through his teeth.

He knew he'd be forcing her hand, to come to his defense. To repay the debt. He gave a barely conceivable nod. Though before they parted it wouldn't hurt to ask, he had been popular back home after all, he had to have experience in such matters right? Everything happening was leaving her confounded. She needed some insight.

“The tiny Career—”

“Clove?” Peeta cut in and of course he was the kind of person to know even the names of the people wanting to kill him. “Looking like she’s seconds from slitting my throat herself?”

“"I think that's her default expression" Katniss tilted her head, unsure. “She kissed me.”

Peeta blinked. “What?”

“More than once. And then something more. I'm not sure what she's trying to achieve, what game she's playing but she won't stop touching me and she's like always in my space and I can't go anywhere without her and she said I was hers. She’s everywhere. Even when I want to sleep she uses me like a pillow, I can’t—” Katniss broke off, frustrated.

From the bank came laughter. “Is he crying?” Marvel called.

“For real? Yeah, make him cry!” Marina jeered.

“Such a crybaby!” Cato bellowed.

“Get on with it already!” Glimmer chimed, twirling her spear.

Katniss flicked her gaze over her shoulder. They were all watching, mocking. Except Clove. She stood still, knife twirling faster, foot tapping sharp in the dirt, her eyes locked on Katniss.

The weight of it pulled her chest tight.

When Katniss looked back, Peeta’s tears were real. Clinging to blond lashes, making his nose red, his face boyish in pain.

“You shouldn’t let them see you cry,” Katniss muttered, the burns must be hurting quite badly for him to cry but he had also cried on the train to the Capitol, so perhaps he just cried easily. Or it was for show. To invoke pity. But she was already trying to help him. “They don’t deserve our pain.”

“Right.” His voice cracked. “Right.” Then softer. “So Clove and you—?” He didn’t finish.

“Think it’s an intimidation tactic? Some weird District Two ritual?” Katniss asked.

“Am I thinking…” He trailed off, face contorting. “The girl likes you-”

“I’m coming down there!” Clove’s voice cut sharp across the water, impatience and heat wrapped together.

Katniss startled, nearly pressing the machete too hard. Peeta flinched, then—whether in panic or instinct—he snatched the stone and hurled it.

It struck the trackerjackers nest with a dull thud.

The swarm burst free, golden and furious. Glimmer’s shriek split the air as they descended, chaos unraveling the shore. Shouting.

Katniss whirled around, giving Peeta one rough kick toward the waterfall. He went tumbling, limbs flailing before the spray swallowed him whole.

The swarm thickened, stingers flashing. Clove was between Katniss and the cloud. Without thinking, Katniss grabbed her arm, dragging them both into the deep stream, plunging under. Water muffled the world.

They stayed under as long as lungs allowed, the river dragging them sideways, the burn of stings and smoke washing into something colder, sharper. Katniss pushed hard at Clove’s shoulder, forcing them both along the current until the roar of wings dulled above. When they finally surfaced, gasping, the swarm was a storm behind them, the shouts of the other Careers lost to the forest.

Katniss staggered out of the water first, clutching her machete. Her arm throbbed, a hot sting where one of the insects had caught her, but she barely felt it. She pulled Clove after her, both of them half-running, half-stumbling into the trees until distance swallowed the chaos.

When they stopped, bent over and breathless, Katniss’ chest eased. They were alive. She was alive. And Peeta—Peeta had gotten away. Relief loosened something in her chest she hadn’t realized was tight.

Then Clove straightened, dripping hair plastered to her cheek, knives still at her belt, eyes sharp and cutting. “What was that?” she demanded.

Katniss blinked, still catching her breath.

“You had him. Lover boy, right there. And you just—” Clove’s finger jabbed against her chest, hard enough to sting. “Did you let him get away? What were you two whispering about? You could have killed him! And yet he is still alive!” Her mouth curled, furious, a flush crawling down her cheekbones. “You playing me, Twelve? Playing us?”

Katniss should have flinched. Should have panicked. Instead, something wild and reckless sparked inside her. Maybe it was the sting burning her veins, maybe it was the way Clove’s eyes glowed when she was angry. Or maybe it was because she had learned something in the last few days—Clove’s greatest weapon wasn’t just her knives. It was proximity.

So Katniss stepped forward, close enough that their chests brushed, her voice deceptively mild. What do I do? Oh, right. Just… do what she does.

She kissed her. Hard.

Clove stiffened, teeth clacking against hers, eyes wide. She shoved a finger against Katniss’ chest again, glaring even as her breath caught. “Don’t—don’t think you can distract me with—”

Pretty eyes. Cheeks flushed. No, why did her head feel like this? She was still talking, wasn’t she? Something about Peeta? Katniss’ hand slid down, curling into Clove’s shirt. This was usually the part where she stopped talking, wasn’t it? When her shirt came off?

Without another thought, Katniss grabbed Clove by the thighs and lifted.

Clove’s voice cut out entirely. Her knife hand went slack.

Her back hit a tree with a thump, legs instinctively wrapping tight around Katniss’ waist. She stared down at her, speechless for once, lips parted, furious blush spreading up her throat.

The strength of her, the weight of Clove’s body tight in her grip—Katniss had never held this much power over her. It was heady, intoxicating.

Katniss pressed her there, every inch of her body buzzing with defiance and adrenaline. For the first time, Clove wasn’t the one pressing close.

Clove let out a sound, half-growl, half-breathless moan, her head tipping back against the bark. “That’s—” She tried for words, but they tangled in her mouth. Her fingers curled in Katniss’ hair instead, trying to pull her closer.

Katniss smirked, lips brushing hers. “What’s wrong? You usually have so much to say.”

Clove growled, eyes sparking. Her finger clawed at Katniss’ front until they found purchase on her collar trying to pull her in but Katniss resisted.

Katniss leaned closer, pinning her harder against the tree, voice dropping to a mock-mild murmur right next to Clove's ear. “Questioning me again so soon? I’m starting to think you’re just begging for attention.”

She scattered kisses along Clove's jawline, then let her teeth graze down Clove’s throat, ending with a sharp nip that made Clove’s breath stutter. Smoke and river-water clung to Clove’s skin, sharp and salt-sweet on Katniss’ tongue. It only made her want more.

The words landed heavy. Katniss, groaned hips twitching as she saw Clove’s pupils blow wide, her mouth falling open on a silent inhale.

Clove scraped her nails down Katniss’ back, desperate for purchase. A low, breathless laugh slipped out with the scrape, sharp as a dare—like she was daring Katniss to go further.

Katniss’ pulse kicked. She tilted her head, eyes holding Clove’s as she let the words slip, deliberate as a blade. “Or is your self-control really so easily broken?”

Clove’s response wasn’t words. Her back arched, pressing her chest flush to Katniss’, her thighs tightening around her waist. A shudder ran through her like she’d just been struck with lightning.

Then she ground her hips against Clove’s, hard enough that Clove’s gasp turned into a moan, her grip on Katniss’ hair tightening like a plea.

Katniss’ mouth curved, fierce and reckless. Whatever this was, she had the upper hand for once—Clove was melting into it — into her.

Though Clove smirked, head resting back against the tree, voice low and cutting even as her breath came shallow. “That all you’ve got, Twelve? Cute.”

The words sparked something reckless in Katniss’ chest. Cute. She’d show her cute.

Her grip shifted, pinning Clove harder against the tree, pressing so close their breaths tangled. Clove’s thighs tightened around her waist, pulling her in, and Katniss let her free hand slide lower. Over the curve of her hip. Up beneath her shirt.

Her hand moved before her mind caught up. Instinct, want, all tangled—she was past thinking, past strategy.

Her mind shouldn’t have gone there, but it did—back to the first time she’d had both hands on Clove's breasts. The weight, the warmth, the soft give under her palms. The way Clove’s breath had broken, hips jerking, a sound torn from her throat like Katniss had cracked something open in her. The memory hit like a spark, and suddenly her hand was moving on instinct, aching to feel it again.

Clove’s smirk faltered when Katniss’ palm closed over her breast, squeezing lightly, thumb brushing over a pebbling nipple. Her gasp broke their kiss, sharp and startled, before Katniss swallowed it whole.

The tree bark dug into Katniss’ knuckles. Clove arched against her, nails catching in her hair, the mocking edge gone, burned into something ragged and hungry.

"Please."

Maybe it wasn’t just Clove’s self-control that was so easy to break. The word burned against her lips, throbbed between her legs and Katniss shattered with it.

*

Katniss’ hands trembled as she shrugged her jacket back on, yanking her shirt straight. Her mouth was raw, everything felt raw, like a nerve left exposed. Her heart a hammer in her chest, but she couldn’t afford to think about that. Couldn’t afford to think about her.

Clove stood across from her, damp hair clinging to her cheek, knives still at her belt, lips shiny and swollen. She didn’t look rattled. Not wrecked like Katniss. But when Katniss’ gaze snagged on the dark welt just above her collarbone, heat swelling around an ugly stinger lodged deep, instinct took over thought.

Her fingers caught the edge of Clove’s collar, tugged it down. Tried not to get lost in the feel of smooth skin underneath her fingertips once more.

Clove moved half stepped back, a line appeared between her brows, knife-hand twitching before she froze. “What are you—”

“Hold still.” Katniss’ voice came out sharper than intended. The area was warmer than the rest of her, and she had to use her nails, almost claw in deeper to ensure she would pluck the stinger free in once piece. Grimacing at the ooze pulling free with it.

Clove blinked, then went very quiet, eyes on Katniss’ hands as she worked, plucking one sting after another. Not flinching, no sound of pain, though a muscle in her jaw twitched. For once, no sharp words, no smirk—just silence.

When she finished, Clove's eyes narrowed. Still didn’t speak. Instead, she caught Katniss by the shoulder, turned her, and started tugging at the back of her shirt. Her fingers were clumsy but determined as she picked a stinger from Katniss' shoulder blades, her collar, the edge of her ribs.

Katniss held still, a little stunned. Clove returning the favour she hadn't expected. Especially so nonchalantly. Help wasn’t something she expected from Clove. But when the last barb flicked away, Clove’s hand lingered half a heartbeat too long before dropping.

Clove remained in her space as they started walking, hands brushing. The air was still filled with lingering smoke, some little sparks and a lot of ash covering a large area of the forest.

Katniss’ thoughts kept circling Rue. She needed to see her, to make sure she hadn’t been caught in it.

“I have to check on Rue,” Katniss guessed she needed to inform Clove.

“You’re not going alone.” Clove’s voice was curt.

Katniss glanced at her. “It’ll look suspicious if neither of us checks in.”

Clove arched a brow. “They know to keep us to our own devices.” The weight she put on us made the fine hairs at Katniss’ neck prickle, but she let it pass.

Clove’s reputation was sharp enough; no one would question her. Enough cover for them both probably.

The woods grew back thicker and healthier were the fire hadn't touched as they waited after Katniss had whistled the four note call and the mockingjays had picked up on it. It wasn’t long before the answering trill floated back, and Rue slipped down from a branch, cheeks smudged with ash, curls tangled, but grinning all the same.

Katniss’ chest unclenched.

Rue’s eyes flicked to Clove, wary, but the roasted groosling Katniss handed over smoothed the edge over. They found a place to settle down to eat. Rue ate happily, chewing around a smile, before her gaze found the welts on both of them.

“Trackerjackers? I warned you about the nests,” she chided. "Did you get stung often? Their venom makes you hallucinate or in too large amounts kills you."

"No hallucinations yet." Clove offered, glancing at Katniss.

"Good, then you didn't get stung that bad." Rue sing-songed, paused in her eating to rummage through her backpack.

Pulled out her water canteen and a bundle of leaves. She chewed them until they went slimy, pressing the green poultice against Katniss’ skin. The sting dulled instantly.

Didn't mean it didn't hurt but Katniss bore it. Clove's nose crinkled

“I am not—”

“It’s spit,” Katniss said flatly, pinning Clove’s arm before she could draw away. “Your tongue has been in my mouth. It should be familiar enough by now.”

Clove’s ears went scarlet. Rue snorted into her curls as she started eating again as she was done with Katniss' stings. Katniss worked the chewed leaves over the swollen welts she’d found earlier, matter-of-fact. Clove didn’t stop her.

When Katniss looked up again, Rue’s shirt had shifted, showing a small, angry burn along her side. Katniss’ gut twisted.

"You got caught by the fire." Katniss lips curled, wanting to curse the Gamemakers. "Are you injured anywhere else?"

Rue shook her head. "No, I already cooled it with water."

Katniss squinted at Rue’s burn. The skin was angry and raw, stretched tight and glossy across her side. She frowned. “If we had willow bark or comfrey, I could make a salve. Even yarrow might help.”

Rue swallowed her bite, mumbling. “I don't think there is any. I already looked.”

“Then all we can do is cool it,” Katniss muttered. “Keep it clean, try not to aggregate it.”

She glanced at Clove who was studying Rue's burn too but seeming to feel Katniss' gaze met it and shrugged her shoulders. Not having another idea.

Katniss kept chewing leaves, thinking of any idea to help Rue.

A chime cut her off.

She stiffened, only noticing the silver parachute when Clove’s elbow dug into her side. Rue pointed at it as it swayed in the breeze, slowly swaying to the ground. The small metal tin landed soft in the ferns.

Katniss closest to it scooped it up, chewing another wad of bitter leaves between her teeth. The number scrawled across the lid caught her eye. “Two?” she said around the mouthful, tossing it at Clove without thinking.

It wasn't surprising. It should have happened before the Career getting a sponsor gift.

Clove caught it, flipped the lid, and arched a brow at the white tube inside. Took another look at the lid then she shoved it back, sharp as ever. “Numbers giving you trouble? That one’s yours.”

Rue giggled, covering her mouth. Heat crept up Katniss’ neck. “Right. Twelve.” It took a moment before she realised what it was, burn cream. She rubbed her thumb over the lid, quieter: “Thanks, Haymitch.”

She passed the tin to Rue, who already had a roasted groosling wing in her other hand. “Eat. I’ll help you as soon as I'm finished.”

When she glanced up again, Rue was tugging at her own shirt, fumbling to smear the salve one-handed. Before she could, Clove shifted beside her. At first Katniss thought she’d step back, leave the work to her. But then Clove reached out, taking the tin from her lap.

Her fingers hovered uncertainly over Rue’s skin before smearing the ointment in a halting, awkward line. Katniss stilled, watching. The girl who could split throats without flinching looked like she was touching something fragile for the first time in her life.

Clove’s jaw was tight, her mouth set, but her eyes… Katniss knew that look. Careful. Curious. Wanting to get it right. She’d seen it in mirrors when she dressed Prim’s scrapes, when she pressed cool cloths to fevered skin.

Rue munched happily on groosling, oblivious, smiling through the sting.

Katniss’ throat felt strange. The last few days she’d told herself Clove’s hovering, her touches, her teasing, it was all a game. Strategy. Some District Two trick. But this—this hesitant, stunted care—it rang too close to the way Clove sometimes pressed at her, needling her for scraps of her life like she was starving for them.

Could it be more than a ruse? Maybe she should’ve kept Clove abreast of more than just survival plans—

Her chewing stalled. Because Clove’s shirt was still damp from their scramble through the lake, the fabric clinging like a second skin. Katniss’ gaze snagged helplessly on the curve of her breasts, memory sparking in her fingertips, traitorous warmth curling low in her stomach.

She realized too late she’d frozen mid-chew, jaw slack, staring.

Clove didn’t look up right away. She was focused on smearing the ointment across Rue’s burn. Then, sensing it—eyes lifted. First to Katniss’ face, then, following the line of her stare, down.

The realization clicked. Slow. Sure.

When her eyes came back up, one brow arched, and her mouth curved into a smile so bright it might’ve lit the arena. Not mocking—delighted. She even tilted her shoulders slightly, almost like she was preening, savoring the way Katniss’ flush deepened.

Katniss snapped her head away so fast her braid nearly whipped her own cheek. The leaf turned to bitter pulp on her tongue, but her hands wouldn’t move, like if she so much as twitched Clove would call her out.

Saliva pooled and she had to spit out the green pulp and therefore face Clove and her last sting. Despite not even looking at her directly, her mouth was twitching, smugness radiating off her and Katniss stomach swooped. Like two sides of a coin, on one hand all brazen confidence, knives and sharp edges and on the other hand almost more intriguing her fumbling like a newborn fawn, careful hands gentled around someone else’s pain.

Chapter Text

The Cornucopia loomed quiet when they returned, golden sides catching the late light. The clearing wasn’t as empty as when they’d left it.

Katniss was very confused seeing the boy from Three knelt by the platforms, dirt caked up to his elbows. His glasses slid down his nose as he clawed at the soil, revealing dull metal disks half-buried around the circle. The mines. The ones wired to the starting plates.

Cato stood over him like a shadow. He turned when Clove and Katniss stepped into the clearing, lip curling. “Ready to get your head back in the game?”

Marvel leaned in close, loud enough for everyone to hear. “She already did. Look at her.” His grin widened, flicking from Katniss to Clove. “Relaxed. Glowing.”

Clove’s knife hit the Cornucopia with a solid thunk, pinning Marvel’s jacket to the wall just under his ribs. He only laughed, wriggling against the steel.

Marvel wasn’t wrong—Clove did seem to glow. It wasn’t fair. The light hit her just right, like it chose her. For a second, Katniss forgot to breathe. The afterimage clung to her eyes long after she looked away, like she’d stared straight into the sun.

Glimmer’s glare cut sharper than the knife. She sniffed, folding her arms. “Numbers are down. Guard shifts are stretched thin. That one”—she jerked her chin toward the boy from Three—“is digging up the mines and planting them around our stash. That way none of the freaks can sneak in again while we’re hunting.”

Cato shoved a knife and axe into the boy’s hands as make shift shovels, voice low and biting. “Work faster.”

Katniss bent without a word, scooping up a crate of dried meat to haul into the growing pile inside the ring. Each trip she made let her map the perimeter, the faint pits where the boy reburied the mines. Anything could set them off once armed. Anything.

The burlap sack of apples caught her eye when Clove dragged it into the circle, the rough cloth straining under the weight.

Katniss’ hand twitched toward the knife at her hip. A careful cut, widened at the right time, and the sack would spill. Apples bouncing, rolling, perhaps heavy enough to trip pressure plates. A single sack could set off one mine, maybe two. With luck, more.

She pictured it—the blast blooming in the dirt, the pile of supplies ripped open, the others too close to run. Smoke, shrapnel, fire. If she timed it right, it would end half her problems in an instant.

Not while Clove and she were nearby, of course. They’d be gone before the trap ever went off. They’d have to be.

Her lips curved, cold and certain.

Then Clove brushed past her shoulder, close enough their hips knocked together. Not a careless bump this time, but a nudge, sly and deliberate. A grin ghosted over Clove’s mouth like she knew exactly how distracting she could be.

Katniss steadied the crate in her arms, refusing to stumble, but the faint curl at her own lips betrayed her. Then she dropped the meat in the pile and marked another pit in the dirt, mind snapping back to mines and timing.

One wrong step and anyone could be blown apart.

But not them.

*

They ate by the little fire, dusk wrapping close around the pines. Rue tucked her chin on her knees, voice lilting with warmth as she spoke of home. Not the hard parts, but small, bright ones—a boy she liked, the way he laughed, how clever he was in school.

Katniss only half-heard. Her mind was back at the Cornucopia. The sack of apples. The slit in the cloth. She pictured them spilling out one by one, heavy enough to set off the mines buried under the dirt. A chain of blasts that would level everything the Careers depended on. Food. Medicine. Shelter. Without those, they would bleed themselves thin.

Her, Clove, Rue—they would manage. Katniss could hunt. Even then she had squirreled away some extra supplies and they had the skills to stretch what little they found. The others couldn’t last without their hoard.

Rue’s question cut into her thoughts. “Have you ever told someone you liked them? Really told them?”

Clove nearly inhaled her food wrong, cursing as she coughed. Color burned up her neck. “Don’t you have better questions?”

Rue only grinned, eyes flicking between them, cheeks dimpling. Katniss shifted, uncomfortable, but Clove saved herself by flipping the subject, sharp and sure. “Tell us about the orchards. You said you climb the tops?”

Rue brightened, launching into it. Katniss forced herself to nod, but her attention snagged on the horizon. Too still. Too quiet.

The first explosion broke the silence wide open. A low boom, rolling through the forest. The earth shivered. Birds tore skyward in a frantic cloud.

Katniss’ relief hit cold, sharp. Rue’s gasp sounded small against it.

Clove was already on her feet, knife drawn. “That’s camp. Something went wrong.”

Another blast came—sharper, fractured into a chain of smaller detonations. The ground quaked under their boots.

Katniss crouched to Rue. “Go hide, be careful, bed down early.”

Rue clutched her sleeve. “Be careful.”

Clove didn’t wait. She seized Katniss by the wrist and pulled her into a sprint. Smoke stung their eyes, sour and acrid, the closer they pushed through the trees.

The clearing reeked of fire. What had been a fortress of food and weapons was now a scorched wasteland. Crates lay splintered and charred, black ash raining down in clumps. Nothing remained whole.

At the center lay what was left of a body—shredded, burned, unrecognizable. Only one thing was certain: it wasn’t a Career. The others were all here, alive, ringed around the destruction.

The boy from Three crawled through the debris, ash smeared across his face, testing the ground with frantic hands. At last, he sat back, panting. “Clear. They’re spent.”

Cato moved before anyone else. He descended on the boy, rage blazing. His arm wrapped around the boy’s neck and snapped it clean. The body dropped limp. “You had one job.” His voice cracked like stone splitting. “One.”

Marvel kicked at a charred board. Glimmer pawed through scraps, found nothing but burnt remains. The stash was gone. Every last scrap.

Katniss stood still, heart a drumbeat in her ears. This was what she had wanted. She hadn't expected this much ruin, not for someone to be shredded apart, especially for them not to be a Career. But the outcome was the same.

The Careers without supplies.

Cato raged, pacing, fists clenched, spitting into the dirt. “We scour the woods tonight. I’ll cut the bastard who did this up myself.”

Clove stepped into his path, voice sharp, steady. “Already one dead. Maybe the one who did it. We wait for the anthem. Then hunt in the morning.”

He snarled but didn’t push past her. Fury hung off him like heat, but he dropped to a crouch, hands tearing at the earth like he could rip the culprit out of it.

They pulled back to the lake once the fires died, smoke still black against the stars. The mockingjays trilled in warning before the hovercraft appeared to collect the bodies. The parts.

Katniss sank down, every muscle taut. Her stomach ached hollow, but it wasn’t hunger.

As always, Clove slid into her space without a word, folding in close as though she had been invited. She never was. She never asked. But she always came. Just sliding into the space Katniss had made for herself.

Tonight was no different. Clove shifted until her head pressed under Katniss’ chin, her back fitting neatly to Katniss’ front. It was the same way she’d slept the last few nights, wedged between Katniss’ legs, spine to chest, the steady rhythm of her breath dragging Katniss under with it.

Katniss had stopped questioning it. Stopped stiffening when Clove leaned. She didn’t put much stock in Clove’s needling questions. But somehow she always answered more than she meant to. Things she hadn’t told anyone. And in return, she ensured Clove gave pieces back—sharper, smaller, but real.

About her father's expectations, about the monotony of training in the academy, how they actually tried to tear each other to pieces over who got to volunteer for the glory of their District.

Clove had taken down her every competition, even the older ones. Her eyes had been bright, dangerous, recounting to Katniss how brutally she had demolished them, volunteering in the Career Districts wasn't just simply raising your hand, no in Clove's wood, they fought tooth and nail to die sooner. For the honor of it. The pride had oozed from Clove.

Katniss had shifted, unease crawling over her skin. It was incomprehensible to her.

Still she collected these little tidbits as it became routine, expecting to find Clove in her proximity.

Clove’s head was a solid weight on her shoulder, her arm curled lazily over Katniss’ over her own stomach, and somehow that weight kept her still. Katniss didn’t understand it, but she had stopped fighting it. She expected it now, the warmth seeping into her skin.

The anthem rose, cold and clean. Faces shimmered in the sky—first the boy from Three. Then Foxface.

Katniss swallowed hard, bile clawing at her throat. Smart. Ginger hair, she had said in her interview her mind was her weapon, didn't she? Why had she been here? Why?

Two more dead by her hand. Not those she had intended. The tally was hers to carry.

Cato spat another curse into the dirt, swearing the next tribute he caught would be torn apart slowly.

Katniss wished she could just end him now. Her fingers twitched for her bowstring. One shot.

Clove's cold nose nuzzled under her jaw, invoking a shiver. Katniss pulled her closer without thinking, clutching her hands to bleed warmth into them. Her eyes stayed on the sky, guilt gnawing deep, and she told herself again: this had been necessary.

She needed to go home to Prim.

*

The pine needles underneath her feet muffled her approach. It cooed as its head bobbed, picking at the underbrush, its eye her target, bowstring nearly brushing her cheek as she pulled it back-

"Katniss!"

The scream split the woods.

Rue’s voice. High, terrified. Her arrow went wide, prey startled and forgotten.

Katniss' legs moved before thought. She shouted back—“Rue!”—before rationality caught up. The sound of her name carried too far, marking her. Too late.

The mockingjays picked it up, a hundred throats echoing Katniss, Katniss, Katniss and Rue Rue Rue.

An haunting echo while she attempted to orient herself to make out where the first scream had come from.

She pushed harder, branches clawing her arms, heart hammering with each answer the forest gave back. And then she heard it—the whistle, Rue’s call sign, weaving through the mockingjays’ echo. Giving her a life line.

Katniss burst into the clearing. Rue dangled in a snare, ankles lashed, twisting and gasping as she heaved herself up, trying to claw at the rope.

One of Katniss’ own traps. The sight knocked the air out of her—she’d caught her. She’d done this.

"Katniss!" Rue's relief cut sharply, her hands reaching for Katniss.

“Hold still,” Katniss rasped, already dropping her bow, hands reaching for the knots.

Cutting her free, ensuring she was standing on her own two feet again. Steadying her by the shoulders, fingers dancing over her cheeks to search for any injuries.

She didn’t hear the steps behind her.

"Katniss!" Rue’s scream cut off. Her body jerked, eyes going wide, as the point of a spear drove through her sternum.

She stared uncomprehending.

"Got her! Good catch." Marvel stood a few paces behind her, hands still lifted from throwing the spear, grin on his face like he just told another joke.

"Katniss?" Clove stumbled into the clearing.

Katniss moved before she breathed. Didn't know when she had picked up her bow again but it snapped up, string cutting her fingers. The arrow punched through his throat, clean and final.

Marvel crumpled, gurgling, blood bubbling over his mouth. The cannon sounded.

Marvel’s smirk flickered in her mind, the boy who had woken her with a laugh—gone, and she hated him for it. Hated herself for almost believing he’d been human.

Katniss caught Rue as she fell, lowering her into the grass. Rue’s breaths were wet and shallow, she whimpered and before Katniss could stop her, Rue, hand trembling, pulled the spear out.

Blood spilled over Katniss’ hands no matter how hard she pressed, despite Rue's choked cry, her fingers curling weakly over hers, pushing.

“It’s… it’s all right,” Katniss whispered, voice breaking. “You’re all right. I'm right here. It's going to be alright.”

Rue shook her head, tears running down her face. Blood poured faster. Katniss cradled her, rocking her gently, as Rue’s lashes fluttered, mouth red.

“Sing,” Rue breathed. “Please.”

Smoothing down Rue’s dark, thick locks, she nodded. Attempted to clear her throat.

“Rue.” Clove fell to her knees beside them, her whole side brushing against Katniss' and Rue's hand twitched in her direction which Clove took without hesitation.

Her eyes shooting Katniss a look, asking for a different verdict than she was seeing. Helpless.

Rue blinked, eyes glassy, so Katniss gave a cough, to loosen the rasp of her voice. She swallowed past the knot in her throat. Her voice came out low and raspy.

“Deep in the meadow, under the willow.

A bed of grass, a soft green pillow

Lay down your head, and close your sleepy eyes

And when again they open, the sun will rise."

Clove just listened, jaw tight, as the melody hung low in the air, eyes on Rue. Rue’s chest hitched one last time, a wet rattle that echoed in Katniss’ bones. Her small body went still in Katniss’ arms. Katniss’ throat closed. She bent, pressing her forehead to Rue’s curls, sobbing.

The cannon fired.

Katniss smoothed down her curls, kissed her temple, tears soaking into her hair. She couldn’t let go. Couldn’t leave her.

The hand on her shoulder unmissable even through the numbness spreading inside her.

“We should clear out soon,” Clove's voice broke. “They’ll want to collect her.” Clove let go of Rue's hand and folded them both over her chest.

Katniss mechanically stood, ordering her limbs to cooperate. Didn't look at Marvel. Her stomach twisted. But looked back at Rue, who could have been sleeping.

If it wasn't for her laying tangled in the remains of Katniss' trap, blood adorning her too small form-

A sob broke in her throat. She swayed on her feet but Clove was as always in her space, steadying her. Katniss blinked, trying to keep in the tears, eyes falling onto the flowers around the clearing. Wildflowers. Innocently in this arena of death. Like Rue.

"Help me please." Katniss fell to her knees, gathered in her blood stained hands bunches of wildflowers.

Clove crouched beside her, silent. Katniss' hands moved almost carefully, gathering wildflowers, weaving them into Rue’s hair, tucking them against the blood, covering the wound until she looked only asleep. Katniss’ chest heaved as Clove followed suit, filling Rue’s arms, her shirt, her curls, until she was cloaked in color.

Together, they made her whole again. While the mockingjays had picked up her lullaby. Her last song to Rue.

Katniss stumbled to her feet. Backed away slowly. Then kissed three fingers on her left hand, held them out in Rue's direction. Her little ally, her friend.

Clove grasped her wrist loosely, pulled her along, until the mockingjays fell silent. The hovercraft descended, claws reaching. Katniss snarled, wanting to run back as they lifted Rue away, a cry breaking out of her chest, raw and feral but Clove had an arm around her waist, keeping her anchored.

The forest answered with silence.

But only for a moment as steps echoed through the forest, through the trees crashing through came Cato and Glimmer.

"What is going on? What happened?" Cato snarled, breathless and Katniss saw red.

All of them were responsible. All of them had Rue's blood on their hands. She had waited too long and now Rue had paid the prize for her hesitation.

Her arrow punched right into Cato's shoulder. Not his heart as intended as he stumbled back as she raised her bow.

"Traitor!" He wasn't slowed by the injury at all, lunged, sword raised over his head; Clove darted in front of her, knives flashing.

"You are with her?" Cato asked in disbelief, though his expression turned into a grimace as he bore down with his full weight against Clove.

Clove who had caught his sword in between a criss cross of her knives. Who was vulnerable as Glimmer sought to stab her from the side with her spear. Katniss fired again, grazing Glimmer’s arm, buying a heartbeat. Enough for Clove to give in to the power struggle between Cato and her, duck beneath his swing as he faltered forward.

It wasn’t enough to win. But it was enough to startle. The betrayal, the split, the sudden unity of Katniss and Clove—Cato pulled Glimmer back, eyes blazing with promise.

“You’re going to regret this.” He spat it like a vow and dragged Glimmer into retreat.

Her song for Rue still echoed in the trees, sharp as glass in Katniss’ chest. Her fingers cramped around the bowstring. She would not let this go, she could catch them—

Snarled when Clove pulled her back by the wrist, arms shaking, the arrow ready to be released-

Clove stood breathing hard, hair wild, knives out. "What was that? First Marvel, now Cato—” Her voice broke, jagged. “Do you even know what you’ve done? You didn’t just break the alliance, Katniss. You broke—”

Katniss’ head whipped toward her, grief blazing into fury as her bow dropped to her side. “That was the plan. From the start. I should’ve killed them like the rabid animals they are the moment I had the chance. I hesitated. Rue paid for it.”

Clove blinked. “What?”

“Because of my hesitation Rue is dead,” Katniss’ voice shook. “I could have at least gotten one of them now."

Clove’s face hardened, pieces falling into place. “It wasn’t a trap, was it?” Her eyes narrowed, voice turning sharp. “It was you. Lir. The stash. You were waiting for it—sitting there restless while I…” Her breath hitched, but she forced the words out.

Katniss’ jaw locked. Silence was answer enough.

Clove’s laugh was sharp, bitter. “So you planned to what? Kill off us of from the inside one by one? And me?” The words cut rough, raw. “What about me, Katniss? Was I supposed to wait my turn? A knife in my back while I slept? Or—” Her mouth twisted, the word dragged out of her. “Or while we’re—” She cut herself off, biting it back, but the raw edge in her voice told Katniss what she meant. “Was this why you started it? Us?”

Katniss recoiled, every muscle taut. She had asked herself that a hundred times. When Clove would turn on her. Never the other way around. Rue’s blood still slicked her fingers, but the thought of Clove’s life on her hands made her stomach heave. Clawed against every instinct—and Katniss hated that she couldn’t say why.

Clove shoved her, teeth bared. “Look at me! If you want me dead, then do it. Right here. Put me down like the rabid animal I am. What’s stopping you, Katniss? What is stopping you?”

Katniss’ body moved before her mind did, hands locking around Clove’s wrists. Not to push her away. To hold on. To keep her close. “Stop.”

Clove struggled, trying to twist free, teeth bared. Katniss only held tighter. And then, without thought, she yanked Clove in, arms wrapping around her, pinning her against her chest.

Clove froze, breathing hard, trembling faintly against her. Katniss held on. Held her through the fury, through the grief clawing inside her, because the one thing she couldn’t do—the one thing her body recoiled from—was killing Clove.

And when had that happened?

Clove shook in her arms but didn’t pull away. Her breath shuddered against Katniss’ collarbone, rough and unsteady. Not surrender—never that. But something cracked open in the silence, raw and unspoken, heavy between them both.

*

Katniss worked with her hands because it kept her head quiet. The tarp, the blanket, the sleeping bag—layer after layer until Clove was swaddled like a cocoon. She didn’t protest. Didn’t snap, didn’t curse, didn’t shove her away. Just let herself be wrapped and stared at her, eyes flat and sharp at once. Like Katniss was some animal in a pen she’d never seen before.

The look made her uneasy. She tightened the last knot and sat back on her heels. “This should keep the chill out.”

Clove didn’t answer. She hadn’t answered much since the fight. Since Rue.

The silence pressed heavy. Katniss filled it by muttering to herself, half-formed thoughts about food, about water, about Glimmer and Cato still out there. She caught herself rocking once, arms folded tight, then forced stillness. She couldn’t afford to crack, not now.

Then she remembered the rabbit she caught before-

She skinned it quick, roasted the meat, held out on a knife the best cuts like habit to Clove. Her fingers hesitated on the offering when Clove only stared back.

“Eat,” Katniss said, sharper than she meant to. Clove narrowed her eyes but let herself be fed pieces, eyes never leaving hers.

That stare again. Like a blade sliding under her skin. Katniss shifted, as they shared bites of the same knife.

By the time the fire burned down to embers, she realized something else was off. Clove was still on the other side of the flames. Not pressed into her shoulder, not breathing into her neck, not close enough for Katniss to feel the twitch of her knives when she dreamed.

Just… over there. Watching.

Katniss pulled her own jacket tighter around herself, though the cold bit through anyway. It wasn’t the same. She told herself it was only the heat she missed. Only the weight against her side.

She glanced up and caught Clove’s eyes in the firelight, narrowed, steady. Not the look of someone planning murder—Katniss had seen that look a hundred times already. This was different. But different how, she couldn’t pin down.

So she looked away, chewing hard on the insides of her cheeks, and tried to ignore the way the distance made her feel hollow.

Certainly because of the cold. Certainly not because she’d forgotten what it felt like to sleep alone.

The anthem swelled, and the faces appeared one by one in the night sky. Katniss lifted her head despite herself. She didn't want to see them.

District 1 of course was first; Marvel—his grin gone, his boyish teasing snuffed out like it had never existed. Katniss swallowed hard. He had forced her hand. He had killed Rue, like it was another joke, like it was nothing. So she had killed him too.

Then Rue. Far too young, far too innocent. Katniss had failed to keep her safe. Her chest tightened until she couldn’t breathe. But it didn't end with her. Because District 12 appeared; Peeta.

She flinched. For a moment she thought her mind was playing tricks. No, it shouldn't have been. He had gotten away. She had let him go. When had it been two, three days ago? The waterfall had led him to safety, away from the pack. She had tried-

And it hadn’t mattered. Nothing she did in these Games mattered. Everyone died anyway. Everyone but one. Her eyes flicked to Clove, the only body left breathing beside her.

Swaddled, silent, watching her with that strange narrowed gaze.

Katniss forced herself to exhale. Kept moving—stirred the fire with trembling hands, checked her arrows and her backpack, organizing and taking note of their remaining supplies.

She didn’t sleep. Clove did, eventually, bundled tight like a swaddled babe. Katniss sat guard, bow across her knees, eyes darting at every rustle. The silence between them stretched into morning. When Clove woke, she didn’t shift closer like usual. Just stayed across the fire, rubbing at her wrists, gaze pinned on Katniss.

It unsettled her more than knives ever had. The absence. The space left behind. She tugged at her sleeve again, jaw locked, hating how her body betrayed her, how it wanted her closer even while her mind told her to stay wary.

The sky brightened, birds trilled as Katniss stood, checked the perimeter, and then the voice of Claudius Templesmith rang out, artificial and too loud. “Attention, tributes. Attention. The regulations requiring a single victor have been suspended. From now on, two victors may be crowned if they are allied and are the last two remaining.”

The words fell like stones. Katniss blinked at the treetops, heart pounding. Two victors. Allies.

Across the fire, Clove came alive. The flatness in her eyes sparked out, replaced by something sharp and electric. She sat up, shrugging out of her encampment and swore under her breath, and then started muttering, voice low but quick. “They want a showdown. Us against Cato and Glimmer. Obvious. But Thresh… if we take Glimmer and Cato head-on, he’ll wait us out, strike after. We’d be bled, too easy for him to finish it.”

Katniss, relieved to hear Clove speaking again, back to moving around and with her normal fire, listened, silent, while her hands busied themselves—packing up gear, checking her quiver. Clove kept talking, half-strategy, half-trash talking Glimmer, about her arrogance, her stupid face and her annoying laugh as she followed Katniss through the woods.

Katniss found herself humming along at the right places.

"Cato actually tried to get Thresh to join the Career pack but he laughed him off, told him to get out of his sight." Katniss hadn't known, couldn't imagine how she would take down Thresh. "I'm sure Cato never been turned down in his life or ever has been as intimidated by anyone like Thresh."

Actually as if an answer presented by the Gamemakers themselves, berries. Katniss stopped to expect them. Held one aloft, to check their tint in the sunlight. Not the safe one's Rue had always traded with her but nightlock.

Thresh would probably know them after all Rue had but Glimmer and Cato, starting to go hungry without the supplies of the Cornucopia?

If an option presented itself, she gathered two handfuls in a pouch and put it on her belt, to ensure Clove wouldn't accidentally reach for it.

Wait what had Clove been saying? Right, Thresh, she could believe that, because Thresh was more striking than Cato, more frightening, just more. Massive, mighty, uncompromising, imposing, and not a sellout like Katniss, who easily had joined the Careers for a higher chance at returning to Prim. And what had she to show? Her little ally dead. Her District partner dead. Three tributes collateral damage, with three Careers dead and three still alive.

So much blood on her hands and still so far away from home, from Prim. Katniss bent to study animal tracks, pretending her throat wasn’t thick while Clove made another sharp remark about Glimmer's shoddy footwork when she handled a weapon.

Then she froze. The forest had gone still. No birds, no insects. She raised her hand sharply. “Clove.”

Clove stopped mid-sentence. Both turned toward the trees.

At first glance it could have been a wolf. Massive, ashen fur bristling, teeth bared, but its face was wrong in a way that turned Katniss’ stomach. Snout too short, head too humanoid. Hazel eyes. It charged.

Katniss didn’t think—Clove was closer to the thing than she. She shoved Clove sideways and took the hit herself. The weight crushed her chest, claws raking fire across her shoulder. She jammed her bow between its jaws, arms shaking as it snapped down, breath hot and rank on her skin. Her muscles screamed.

Just hold. Just a second longer. Legs finding purchase on its belly, kicking,

Then Clove was there, leaping onto its back. Her knife flashed again and again, until the mutt spasmed, before it slumped dead to the ground Katniss scrambled out of its way before it crushed her.

They both gasped, shaking, blood and fur thick in the air. Katniss heaved herself barely on her feet before Clove’s hand fisted in her collar.

Her eyes blazed. “Listen. I’m yours now. They don’t care if we live or die. Our lives belong to us. So you don’t ever betray me, you're loyal to me. You’re mine, I’m yours. That’s the deal.” Her voice cracked sharp as steel, but her hand in Katniss’ collar trembled with the force of it, as if the words had been waiting, burning, and now couldn’t be held back.

Katniss stared, still panting, mind a blur. The words thudded into her like arrows. This was more than claiming her space for herself. Meant more now they could both survive, go home. And it was hard not to notice the way her chest had hollowed when Clove wasn’t pressed against her side. And now—Clove was right there again, fire and certainty where silence had been.

The announcement meant both of them could go home.

Her mouth was dry. Her hands had already found purchase on Clove's hips. This didn't feel like strategy. Or like simply allies. She nodded. Once. Her chest ached with something she didn’t want to name. But she couldn’t stand the space between them a second longer.

She leaned in, closing the gap before she could second-guess, and pressed her lips to Clove’s. Katniss didn’t know what she was agreeing to entirely. She only knew she wanted to be closer, to feel Clove’s fire against her again. Knees nearly giving out beneath her feeling Clove's tongue flick against her teeth, groaning into her mouth like she had been deprived too long.

When she pulled back, Clove was still holding her collar, smudged in blood, expression unreadable. Then she swore, tugged Katniss down by the shoulder. “Idiot. You’re bleeding.”

Katniss let herself sit while Clove with certainty just unzipped Katniss' jacket, helped take off her shirt, and Katniss flushed realising why because they had been there before, tried to keep her mind on the throbbing of the claw marks and not how it felt having Clove's nails dig into her back, teeth in her shoulder-

Jolted back into awareness to keep Clove from tearing apart her own shirt to use as make shift bandage, instead reached into the backpack for the pair of extra socks. While the risk for infection was high no matter what it didn't mean she needed to provoke it by letting Clove dab around in an open wound with her shirt which had been often enough not on her person.

Using the sock as a rag, Clove sat behind her and started to clean away the blood from her back, cleaning out the claw marks with water. Familiar cold fingers rough with callous but tender in their work, dancing over her skin, sending shivers down her spine. Every touch stung, but she kept still, head tipped forward, pulse hammering in her throat. Felt Clove's breath ghosting over her nape before lips found the dip of her shoulders.

Clove sighing as her forehead came to rest against her spine.

Katniss almost wished they could stay like this. But for the first time since the Games started the sky turned dark and then fat water droplets; rain began to fall.

*

It didn't let up. They tried to shelter underneath a small rock outcropping but it didn't help much. Hair slicked back to their skin despite their jackets having hoods because the rain pelted against them without mercy. They were drenched in moments. Cold was settling in.

Starting a fire would be impossible like this. The cannon thundered.

Clove and her jolted from where they were crouched, their surroundings deceptively serene and their eyes met. Four of them left. But who-

Howling. Katniss shivered. Not singular. One howl answered by a chorus of voices.

Clove pulled her up and they didn't look back as the first growl came from behind them—low, guttural, and wrong. Animalistic, artificial.

Katniss didn’t hesitate, didn't look back. “Run.” Pushing Clove ahead of her before she finished speaking. “Run!”

Clove darted ahead, unsheathing two knives, one in each hand. Branches tore at them as they burst through the foliage, jumping over roots and getting almost caught in the underbrush. Clove blindly grasped at her wrist, pulled her along into a certain direction and Katniss let her lead.

Risked a glance over her shoulder.

More of those mutts. Muscles bulging under coarse fur. But they didn't have all ashen fur like the first one. They were all different. Even their eyes. Something glimmered at their throats-

Only Clove's grip on her kept her from falling as they reached the clearing; the Cornucopia. Where it all had begun. Where it all would end. It was their only shot.

They dashed toward the Cornucopia, rain turning the ground muddy, breath harsh in their lungs. One mutt lunged; Katniss whirled around and shot it, right in the eye; pale blue eyes almost familiar. One of Clove's knives flashed past her to fell another mutt far too close to her. More were coming.

Katniss gave Clove a boost to reach the edge of the platform of the Cornucopia, nearly throwing her up before crawling after her, nails scraping at the metal to find a hold.

They scrambled up the golden horn, feet slipping on dried blood, hands grasping at the grooves. A mutt lunged, catching Katniss’ boot—Clove kicked it in the face with a shout, knife flashing down into its snout. It yelped and fell back. Another small brown one clawed at the side of the Cornucopia, dark brown eyes flashing but not as much as the collar with an eleven around its neck-

Her arrow punched through its eye, her eye; Rue's eye and it fell to the ground.

Rue's eyes in some mutt. “They are the other tributes." Katniss breathed in disbelief. Noting the amount of mutts, all wearing collars, she could make out some numbers but the nail in the coffin was the small mutt with ginger fur and amber eyes.

Foxface. Rue she had just shot. Those pale blue eyes; Peeta. "The eyes, they gave them the eyes of the tributes,” Katniss added, close to choking. Or more. Did they have their souls? Their minds? Katniss retched.

Clove flinched, blindly reached out for her hand, intertwining their fingers. Staring in horror down at the gathered mutts.

"That can't be true, they-" One of the mutts jumped high enough it nearly tore into Katniss' leg only Clove slashing at it had it reeling back down. "C'mon we have to get to higher ground."

Though the top of the Cornucopia didn't mean safety. When had ever anything in the Games meant safety?

"End of the line." Cato offered, standing like a statue—battered but towering, his armor streaked with dirt and drying blood. Sword pointed at them and even now hidden slightly behind him stood Glimmer, twirling her spear lifting her chin, attempting to stare down at them over her nose.

"You afraid now, Twelve?"

Katniss and Clove straightened, glancing at each other.

Rain hammered the Cornucopia, Katniss’ boots slipped on the curved metal as she loosed an arrow into the dark. Cato batted it aside with his sword like it was nothing, the clang echoing through the downpour.

Katniss’ bow was useless in her hands with the space so tight. One wrong slip, one mistimed draw, and she’d skewer Clove instead of Cato. Her fingers twitched against the string anyway, instinct screaming at her to keep the distance.

But there was no distance. Cato came at them with his sword, Glimmer circling at his side with the spear. Boxed in. Pressured.

Katniss’ chest tightened. She dropped the bow, yanked free the machete from her belt. The weight was clumsy compared to a bow, but it was solid. Close-range was their world, not hers.

They came together at them.

Cato swung heavy and fast, meant to crush through defenses. Clove slid in at his flank, knives flashing to catch and deflect. Katniss darted low, hacking at his knees, forcing him to shift his footing. They didn’t need words.

One moved, the other filled the gap. A rhythm they’d learned back in the training center, hunting in the woods, mayhaps even coordinating their limbs to sleep.

Across from them, Glimmer and Cato crashed into each other, out of sync. Glimmer thrust too soon, forcing Cato to twist wide; Cato’s backswings clipped her more than once. Strength and reach, but no trust in the space between them.

Still, the pressure mounted. Steel shrieked against steel. Katniss’ arms burned from the weight of Cato’s blows, each one threatening to drive her over the edge.

Clove ducked past Cato’s guard, knife cutting his thigh, but Glimmer was there, spear driving for her ribs.

“Clove!” Katniss shouted—too late. She hurled herself shoulder-first into Glimmer before the spear could land. The impact knocked the breath from her chest. And then there was nothing beneath her boots.

The world tilted.

She scrabbled at the slick metal, fingers finding only edges as she slid over the side. The Cornucopia’s lip bit into her palms, holding her. Below, the mutts howled, leaping, foam glistening on their teeth. Her arms shook with the strain. Her boots kicked empty air.

In the same situation, Glimmer dangled too, nails clawing uselessly. “Cato!” she screamed. “Help me!”

Katniss’ shoulders screamed. Her grip slipped.

“Katniss!” Clove’s voice cracked, sharp and raw. Then she was there, throwing herself flat, arm stretched down. Their hands locked, slick with rain but solid.

Katniss gasped, clinging. Her bow was gone, her machete dangled precariously from the edge above, everything narrowing to Clove’s grip.

Behind her, heavy footsteps. Cato. Sword raised.

“Cato!” Glimmer begged again, voice breaking. “Please!” Glimmer’s voice cracked on his name, raw with terror. For one breath Katniss thought—hoped—he would turn, would reach for her.

But he didn’t even slow. His eyes were only for Clove. His sword came down instead of his hand.

"Clove!"

Katniss had told herself all along that Clove would be the one to turn on her in the end, the one to deal the blow. Even now, as Cato’s sword arced down, she thought Clove would let go—she should let go—and save herself. She wanted her to. But the weightlessness never came. Mutts didn't tear into her.

Clove twisted. The sword drove into her shoulder with a sickening sound. Her body jerked, blood streaking down her arm. She snarled but didn’t let go. If anything, her grip on Katniss tightened. Squeezing her eyes shut as if to gather her strength, she struggled, dragging Katniss up, even as the steel ground deeper into her flesh.

Cato still loomed over her. Something snapped in Katniss. A click.

She wasn’t going home without her. The announcement had meant both of them. Both. Not one. They were going home.

Clove would not bleed out on the Cornucopia so close to the end.

Red tinted her vision. Her free hand closed around the machete. With a guttural sound she didn’t recognize as her own, she lunged past Clove and drove the blade into Cato’s throat.

Hot blood sprayed across her face, her arms. His sword wrenched free of Clove’s shoulder as he staggered back, choking, clutching at his neck. He collapsed onto the Cornucopia, gurgling, boots sliding in the rain.

Below, Glimmer’s scream ripped the night. Her nails slipped from the edge. For one instant, her eyes locked on Cato—pleading, desperate. He had never even looked her way. Then the mutts were on her, and her screams were drowned in snarls.

Cato had abandoned Glimmer without a thought. Katniss had always believed Clove would do the same to her, when it came down to it. But Clove hadn’t even paused to choose.

Katniss barely saw. She was already on her knees, jacket ripped from her shoulders, pressing the fabric hard against the wound, hands slick, trembling. She couldn’t stop seeing it—that sword sinking into Clove, the blood, the sound she made. Clove hadn’t even thought to let go. Not a flicker of hesitation, not even to save herself.

“Stay still,” she ordered, voice ragged as she tied the jacket around the wound to stem the bleeding. “You’re fine. You’re fine.”

Clove hissed, pale but steady. “Shoulder. Not a kill.”

Katniss shook her head fiercely, hands slick with blood. “Doesn’t matter. You’re not leaving me." She swallowed, throat raw. “Why would you do that?” The words rasped out before she could choke them back.

Clove’s hand caught hers, grip weak but insistent, tugging her gaze up. Rain streaked her face, but her eyes burned steady. “Not leaving. Death doesn't get to take you either, you are mine.”

Katniss’ breath stuttered out. The Cornucopia shook beneath them with the thunder of the storm, the screams below, but none of it mattered. She pressed her forehead to Clove’s for a heartbeat, clinging as much as she steadied.

One cannon sounded.

"She's still alive." She shivered, shirt clinging to her skin.

"Not even she deserves that." Clove murmured, added. "Can you get her?"

Not the right question to ask. Katniss didn't want to leave Clove's side. But her gaze darted over the Cornucopia finding her bow.

The cannon sounded for the last time. Katniss sheathed her bow. Watched as almost immediately the mutts ceased. With everything. No longer snarling. No longer trying to climb up to them. As if recalled to their masters they disappeared.

And with them gone, the rain stopped. The sky got brighter again.

“C’mon.” Katniss slipped her arm underneath Clove's knee and back, picked her up. Allowed herself a moment to hold Clove against herself before settling her carefully on her own feet. "We should get some distance. For them to collect the bodies. So we can go home."

"Home." Clove tilted her head, a smile so wide breaking out on her face Katniss was afraid her face would split.

She swayed and Katniss quickly pressed into her side. Somehow, they slid down from the Cornucopia. Adrenaline was fading and with home so close, all those aches and injuries flared up, bones wrapped in molasses.

Katniss gracelessly collapsed on the ground barely twitching when Clove simply did the same on top of her. Katniss hissed but in the end merely pulled her closer, trembling as their cold and clammy skin met. Nearly lulled into sleep by both exhaustion and Clove's proximity.

Eyes blinking back open as the sound of an announcement cracked through the speakers.

“Greetings to the final contestants of the 74th Hunger Games. The earlier revision has been revoked. Closer examination of the rulebook has disclosed that only one winner may be allowed. Good luck—and may the odds be ever in your favour.”

The words still echoed in Katniss’ ears. One winner. Only one.

She turned her head, braced for Clove’s reaction — but Clove only leaned back against her, smelling of pines and iron, staring at the artificial sky. “Did you hear something?” she said flatly. “I didn’t hear a thing.”

“Clove—” Katniss started.

Clove finally looked at her, and what Katniss saw made her stomach twist. Her eyes burned — wild, bright, too steady. “They think they can take this from me? From us? After everything?” Her laugh was raw, broken. “They don’t get to change the rules now. They don’t get to give me you and then rip you away. Absolutely not."

“Clove.” Katniss pressed, voice tight.

Her hand shot out, gripping Katniss’ wrist with startling force. “I’m not letting you go. Not now. Not ever. They’ll have to drag us both out of here in pieces because I won’t do it. You can’t just—” Her voice cracked. “They can change the rules, they can try to make us kill each other on their stage, but I won't do it.”

Katniss tried to steady her, keeping her voice calm. “If we stay here, the mutts will come back. Or infection will—”

“Then let them!” Clove snarled, pushing closer until their foreheads touched. Clove’s breath smelled of rain and smoke. “I won’t be left behind,” she said, low. “You are mine, Katniss. I’m yours. We either go home together, or we don’t go at all.”

Katniss’ chest ached. Clove’s desperation was scorching, unshakable. She could feel the tremor in Clove’s grip, the way her body swayed with exhaustion, but her voice was iron.

The words a blow and a balm at once. Everything she had done — every twist of the Games, every lie and cruelty and calculated step — had been to get back to Prim. That promise sat heavy in her like a stone. But the thought of leaving here without Clove — without her warmth pressed against her at night, without her biting remarks to absolutely everything, without that feral fire blazing under her fingertips — carved away at the stone.

Going home without Clove wasn’t going home at all.

Clove met her stare—and smiled. Crooked, dangerous, eyes gleaming fever-bright. “We wait. They’ll lift us out. That’s how this ends.”

“Clove—” Katniss started, but the other girl crushed her protest in a kiss, desperate and bruising.

Katniss swallowed hard, throat tight, and covered Clove’s hand with her own. Her palm was slick with blood, but she didn’t pull away.

Katniss wasn’t sure when the decision hardened inside her — whether it was the memory of Clove refusing to let go of her or curling around her in her sleep or the sound of Rue’s lullaby still ringing in her ears — but when she found herself answering, it came out small and steady. “I’m not leaving you.”

Clove’s face cracked. The hard line melted into something fierce and almost tender. She crushed Katniss with another kiss, frantic and claiming, as if to prove the promise true, which Katniss met equally.

Clove’s breath stuttered, fierce and desperate. “Then we don’t. Together or nothing.”

Together or nothing. They wanted a victor. A last possibility.

Katniss swallowed hard. Her hand slipped to her pouch, fingers brushing the hard little berries inside. She drew them out slowly, holding her palm open for Clove to see. Glossy, dark. Deadly.

“Nightlock,” she whispered. “Poison. We can end this together.”

Clove’s gaze flicked to the berries, then back to Katniss. Her jaw clenched, but her eyes softened. “Together,” she echoed.

Katniss reached for her, twining their arms so each of them held berries in their opposite palm, the way one would feed the other. So Katniss could ensure if someone had to die it was her. A tether neither could break. She held Clove’s gaze, steady, unblinking. Trust me.

“One,” Katniss said.

Clove smirked through her ragged breathing.

“Two.”

They both opened their mouths.

“Three—”

“Stop!” Claudius’s voice cracked, sharp with panic. “Stop! Ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased to present the victors of the Seventy-Fourth Hunger Games—Katniss Everdeen and Clove Fuhrman!”

Katniss exhaled, chest heaving. The berries tumbled from her hand, innocently into the grass. Clove’s grip on her only tightened, fierce and unrelenting.

Bonus Scene Clove's POV at the campfire after the alliance breaks

Clove didn’t fight when Katniss wrapped her up. First the sleeping bag, then the tarp pulled over for extra cover, then even the spare blanket rolled so tight around her middle she could hardly move.

Like a child, like a patient—not that she had ever been treated like either—but was this care just so deeply ingrained into Katniss' very being, from being a healer’s daughter or an older sister?

The same person who schemed to blow up the stash, to take out the pack, who killed smoothly. The picture shouldn't have come together, but watching Katniss it did.

Katniss worked without speaking, hands steady, face strange in the firelight. Brows knitted, lips pressed thin, muttering scraps under her breath as if she’d forgotten Clove could hear. Clove could only watch, too raw to resist, and think: This is who I doomed myself for.

She hadn't done the logical choice, Cato her District partner—they often talked leading up to the Reaping and the Games how they'd be the last two standing, how they would make it an honorable fight, until one of them stood victorious for their District. She hadn't chosen him. Not glory. Not her father’s nod of pride, his talks about legacy.

But a half-feral girl who blew up their alliance and then curled her around food and warmth like instinct. Something clawed at her throat. She swallowed hard until it sank. This was supposed to be fun. A little treat on her way to victory. Katniss had practically prostrated herself in front of Clove, begging for her attention, flirting and sidling up to her. Wanting her so desperately. It was all Katniss.

Katniss’ fault. No, Clove wouldn't be as foolish as actually letting herself fall. This was temporary. A tactic. Nothing more. She had trained half her life for this—blood, sweat, knives in her hands every day, until her hands were raw, callouses growing. She was not going to throw all of it away for... for this. Katniss had to know how this would end. They both knew from the beginning. There was only one ending.

It didn't have to mean anything. Maybe it didn’t mean anything. Maybe Katniss would die before she had to choose. Her eyes found Katniss and the thought alone of her not being across from her, the space next to Clove empty permanently—

Her stomach twisted. She swallowed hard. No. Maybe she’d wake up tomorrow and want victory again. Katniss tucked the blanket corner under her chin like sealing a wound, and Clove thought she might scream as her fingers brushed over the skin of Clove's throat. The touch landed like a knife turned flat—no cut, just pressure. Even this little gesture had her melt, shivering, hungry for more.

She closed her eyes, exhaled. There was no escaping this. She swallowed another scream which settled into her chest, thundered with every heartbeat instead she just stared.

Katniss crouched across from her, roasting a rabbit like she hadn’t just dismantled the only plan Clove had ever lived for. When it was done, she cut off the best pieces, held them out on her knife and pressed them to Clove’s lips. Eyes gone glassy, like she was feeding a bird she wasn’t sure would take flight. But not so different from what she had done all the times before.

Clove narrowed her eyes, compiling evidence. Katniss had started this. Singled her out, had fed her first, eagerly sunk into her. Katniss had pinned her to a tree, kept her safe, held her through the rage. Always ensured she was warm, Clove nuzzled into the blanket around her.

That meant something. It had to. And yet Katniss kept glancing back at her like she was trying to puzzle out something as well. Head tilted, mouth soft, muttering under her breath as if none of this was a choice at all.

Clove could’ve asked. Could’ve demanded an answer. But she stayed swaddled, still, feeling the weight of Rue’s song stuck in the back of her throat.

Katniss sat opposite at the fire, for once not pressed against her. For once leaving that gap between them. And the cold crept in sharp as knives. Clove told herself Katniss had feelings too—because her actions were too exact, too unthinking to be anything else. She had thought Katniss had no guile. But she had schemed to take out the pack, had taken out half the alliance.

At the same time Clove had never seemed to be a target. So if she fed her, it was because Katniss wanted her fed. If she wrapped her up, it was because she wanted her warm.

It meant something. It had to. She told herself that again, quieter this time, until the words stopped sounding like truth and started sounding like begging.

Chapter Text

They had taken her. Just like that. It came to her in flashes the announcement, the hovercraft appearing. The rope ladder uncoiling from the belly of the ship. Her steadying Clove, curling her hands over the rope, following close behind to ensure Clove wouldn't slip off, the grippling relief-

They had made it.

Then pain. Not the throbbing pain of her wounds, but a current, sharp and merciless, locking her muscles into stone. She couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t even call out when white-coated figures leaned from the hatch and dragged Clove inside.

She saw a glimpse—just a glimpse—of hands pressing to Clove’s bleeding shoulder, wires, masks, people shouting words Katniss was unable to make out over the roaring in her ears. Couldn't struggle as she was picked up, a wall of white separating them.

Silence.

When she woke again, the ceiling wasn’t sky, but fluorescent white light. The air smelled sharp, antiseptic. Tubes in her arm, a band across her middle. On a gurney which was still padded and softer than anything she’d ever slept on.

And no Clove.

That was the part Katniss couldn’t get past.

It didn’t matter that her body was heavy, didn't want to obey her. Slack and trembling with sedative pumping through her veins, meant to keep her down, to keep her from struggling.

Katniss thrashed against the band anyway, nails clawing at the sheets, teeth bared against the silence. The white walls too tight around her, the silence too damning. She hurled herself sideways until the tubes pulled taut and alarms screamed. When the door opened, she lunged for the gap—only to be caught, drugged, smothered back into darkness.

And when she woke again, nothing had changed. Still no Clove.

The cycle repeated. Wake. Fight. More sedation. She’d lost count how much time passed under the endless cycle of sedation and silence.

Every time, the same refrain pounded in her skull: Where was Clove? Where was she? Perhaps not just in her skull, her throat was screamed raw with the questions hurled against the apathetic whiteness.

Clove had been in her space constantly, if she had wanted her or not, just entitled herself to it, by the fire, at night. The other girl had been so close she’d learned her breathing, her little smirk before she let a jab fly, the way she delighted in the way Katniss shivered when she on purpose nuzzled with her cold nose into the hollow of her throat.

Katniss had slept better with Clove’s knife hand inches away with death right around every corner than she did here in these walls in the pretense of safety.

And now Clove was gone. No voice. No taunts. No body heat. Nothing.

Katniss paced whenever she was free, heel to wall, heel to wall, until the skin at the back of her foot split. She battered her fists against the door, shouting for answers. She pressed her ear to the walls, straining for sound. Each failure sent her ragged, her thoughts running in circles.

The deal had been Clove was hers. She’d kept her alive. Clove had said she wouldn't be left behind, but had Katniss been left behind? Had she gone without her? No, Clove had bled for her, teeth grit and hands steady. She had been ready to die rather than let Katniss go.

Katniss had done the same. Would do it in a heartbeat again.

So where was she now?

Days—weeks?—blurred. Katniss only slept when they made her, eyes burning, the air itself raw in her lungs. She couldn’t stop replaying the last sight of Clove: shoulder split open, dragged away, helpless. It was unbearable.

The redheaded Avox changed everything. Brought like a sacrificial lamb before her when she was too exhausted to fight.

She brought food. Moved gently, as if she didn’t want to spook her. Katniss stayed very still, jaw clenched, and asked the question out loud, clear enough the cameras couldn’t mistake it: “Did Clove make it?”

The Avox’s pause was long enough to kill her, but then—one simple nod.

Katniss had to bite the insides of her cheeks to keep her eyes from stinging. Relief hit sharp as pain. She whispered a thank you she wasn’t sure the girl heard, and forced herself to eat without smashing the tray against the wall.

She wanted it to be true. Needed it to be true. But why separate them? Where was Haymitch? Cinna? Effie?

Why was she kept here like an animal in a cage?

It changed when the avox stood in her door the third- fourth time? The tray in hand.

Umistakeable. Her name, torn raw out of the air. “Katniss!”

It wasn’t a dream. It wasn’t her imagination. Clove’s voice, hoarse, furious, alive.

A single note of Clove’s voice and the band on Katniss’ ribs unknotted.

Nothing could have stopped her. The tray clattered to the ground as she shoved past the Avox in the doorway, bare feet slapping the cold floor.

“I’m here!” she shouted, throat tearing. “Clove!”

The answer was instant, ragged: “Katniss! Where—” And then a cut-off cry, pained, furious.

Katniss turned the corner and saw red.

Clove was struggling in the grip of two guards, a third trying to shove a syringe into her arm. Her thin shift was streaked with blood where the shoulder wound must have split open again, face twisted in pain and rage.

Katniss didn’t think. She barreled into the first guard, shoulder to chest, knocking him off balance. Her heel lashed out and caught the second square in the gut, a raw scream ripping from her throat. The syringe clattered away as Clove twisted, teeth bared, and drove her knee up into the third guard.

For one dizzy second it was the arena again, the two of them back-to-back, teeth and claws and refusal to die. And then Clove’s hand caught her wrist. Clamped tight.

More boots thundered in the distance. Katniss yanked her toward her room, toward the only door she knew would open. The avox gone, food on the floor. They stumbled inside, slammed it shut, pressed their weight against it, listening for pursuit.

The hallway noise ebbed. No one came.

Katniss turned — and Clove was right there. Face flushed, hair damp and clean but wild again, lips parted from panting. Her shoulder was bleeding though, her eyes bright.

Katniss crashed into her. Mouth to mouth, desperate, messy. Clove kissed back like she’d been starved, hands fisting in Katniss’ shirt, muttering against her lips, “I thought—you were gone—thought they lied—”

Katniss gasped into her mouth, “Didn’t know if you were alive—if they—” Her hands were already shoving the shift off Clove’s shoulder, checking the wound, relief flooding when she saw only a thin red line, half-healed, just torn open again. “It’s healing,” she muttered, half to herself. “They didn’t—”

Clove’s breath hitched, her face fierce and trembling all at once. “You’re real.”

Katniss didn’t want an inch between them. She hooked her arms under Clove’s thighs, lifted her like it was the most natural thing in the world, and carried her the two steps to the bed. Clove clung on, burying her face in Katniss’ shoulder as if to fuse them together.

They collapsed into the sheets, tangled, breath still harsh. Katniss pressed her nose into Clove’s hair — flint and Capitol soap, antiseptic sharp under it — and finally, finally let her lungs unclench.

Clove was here. Warm, solid, alive. In her arms, where she belonged.

Katniss wasn’t leaving her again. Nestled her head against Clove's shoulder, and curled herself around her as much as possible, trying to shield Clove from the rest of the world, keep her. It was easy to get lost in the song of her heart, the notes of it beating beneath her thumb on Clove's wrist, assuring her even in silence this time she wasn't alone.

She could tell herself this was simple relief. Like she'd told herself it was merely survival or strategy, something born out of necessity. But Clove-

The days without her had torn that belief to shreds. Every hour apart had gnawed at her, carved her down to the bone. Left her half-mad like an animal in a trap, left her her heart beating itself bloody against the bars of her ribs. Hollowed her out, and now with Clove back in her arms, everything in her went still, because it forced a simple truth, breaking her open.

The sound of Clove’s breathing, the smell of her hair, the weight of her—too much, too real suddenly it this sterile white. It wasn’t relief. It was ruin. It was seeing the fire, feeling the heat and still wanting to touch the flames.

She didn’t need Clove as an ally, not as a shield or a weapon by her side. She wanted her. Just Clove—alive, here, close enough that Katniss could feel the shape of her heartbeat echoing against her own. And perhaps, just for now she could stop pretending that wasn’t everything.

*

Katniss woke with a jolt, her chest tightening at the faint hiss of the door. Instinct faster than thought—she twisted, slid out beneath Clove to get between whoever was coming and the sleeping girl. Her hands were empty, no bow, no knife, but she braced her stance all the same, muscles coiled, ready to bite, claw, do anything to keep them from being dragged apart again.

Clove stirred behind her, fingers curling into the back of Katniss’ shirt as if to hold her there.

The figure in the doorway leaned heavily against the frame, a guard’s shadow looming just behind him.

“Couldn’t you behave yourself for five minutes, sweetheart? You really didn't listen to anything I told you." Haymitch rasped, eyes narrowed, completely unchanged, unwashed hair, a rumpled suit, smelling of liquor even from the distance. The tension left her body. "Effie’s having a meltdown about your poor manners already. You’ve given her three new gray hairs, easy.”

He tilted his head, gaze sliding over Katniss’ shoulder. “And your little darling, you really know how to choose them, just lovely."

Clove's arms wrapped around her midsection and her head came to rest on Katniss' shoulder. "Don't you have another stage to head dive off from?"

Katniss bit down on her laughter but a slight snort escaped her, seeing Haymitch's scowl and feeling Clove's pleased hum.

"Lovely. Both of you. Time to be presented to Panem—the Capitol’s vexing two new victors. So let’s cut the dramatics and walk.”

*

The love seat was too small for two, but Clove made herself fit anyway, curled sideways into Katniss’ lap as if daring anyone to pry them apart.

Caesar’s smile was bright, almost blinding. “I think what everyone in Panem is dying to know: when did this start? Your first kiss was… well, it shocked us all. But the sparks? I swear, they were visible the moment the gong sounded.”

Clove’s eyes burned on her before she spoke up.

“Day two in the Training Center,” Clove said easily, lips curving. “She was showing off. Shooting arrows into my dummies right in the middle of my knife throwing. Brazen from the start.”

Katniss startled. A neat little Capitol friendly story. The truth was the first day of the Games, a stolen kiss doubling as a threat, meant to unnerve her. Still—she nodded, offering a hopefully polished smile.

“Clove is very… diligent. Proactive and fierce. In all of her pursuits.”

Clove’s smirk sharpened. Her hand slid up Katniss’ thigh underneath her dress, fingers pressing just enough to make her jump. A wink, quick and wicked, aimed only at her.

Caesar beamed. Heat crawled up Katniss' neck, realizing too late how the words must have sounded — and how much Clove enjoyed making her squirm.

Caesar leaned forward. “Fierce, indeed. But emotional, too. Clove, when the Career pack broke apart—I admit, I was worried for you. You seemed… shaken. Until the announcement came.”

Clove’s fingers tightened in Katniss’, the only giveaway. “I was petrified,” she finally offered. “When the alliance breaks, it means the end is near. And in our case…” She trailed off, then forced a smile. “The announcement came at the right time. It meant I could keep her.”

Her forehead brushed Katniss’ jaw, lingering. Katniss asked low, “Is that so? What are your plans exactly?”

Clove tugged her up into a kiss—short, fierce. “Keep you. Never let you out of my sight again.”

Katniss raised a brow. “Well. I’ll be putting you somewhere you can’t get hurt. Or into trouble.”

That earned them laughter from behind the cameras from the crew hanging around. Caesar fanned himself theatrically. “And Katniss—the berries. What was going through your mind in that moment?”

Her throat tightened. That she was breaking her promise to Prim. That at least it wouldn’t be mutts or infection. Not Clove’s knife, like she thought it might be for so long. But… it was still for Clove. "As Clove said, that we go home together, or not at all. I couldn’t leave her behind. Home wouldn’t have meant anything without her.”

Crew members dabbed at their eyes, Caesar’s own smile softened.

“Clove? Anything to add?”

Clove only shook her head. “Together or nothing. That’s it.”

“Beautiful,” Caesar replied. “Truly beautiful. Panem, here are your victors. Katniss Everdeen and Clove Fuhrman.”

The red light on the camera blinked out. Caesar was already rising, still smiling, smoothing his suit. The crew began to shuffle equipment, laughter fading to a background hum.

Katniss exhaled, shoulders loosening—only to feel Clove lean in, lips brushing her ear.

“Diligent. Proactive and fierce. In all of her pursuits,” Clove mocked her word for word, voice low and delighted. Her fingers gave Katniss’ thigh another squeeze. “Careful. You keep talking like that, and Panem’s going to think you can’t keep your hands off me.”

Katniss went stiff, heat spiking in her face. She turned to glare, but Clove only looked smug, eyes glinting, like she’d won some private game.

“I didn’t mean—” Katniss started, but Clove just tilted her head, pressing a kiss to the corner of her jaw.

“I know what you meant,” she offered sweetly.

The studio lights blinked out. Makeup girls swarmed the edges, the crew unplugging wires. Guards hovered in the corner.

Katniss didn’t move, too aware of Clove still draped in her lap.

“You’re shameless,” Katniss muttered, low enough not to carry.

Clove tipped her head back to grin at her. “What? You were showing off. You wanted me to notice.”

Katniss’ mouth opened, then shut. Her heart was still thudding, stupid and hot. “That’s not—”

“Mhmm,” Clove hummed, utterly delighted, then leaned in to bite at Katniss’ jaw, quick enough to be hidden from the nearest camera. “Worked, didn’t it?”

Katniss scowled, but she didn’t push her away, trying to school her face back into something neutral, but the damage was done. Her cheeks burned, and the corner of her mouth wanted to tug upward no matter how hard she fought it.

Clove had that effect on her—needling, smug, always pressing just hard enough to make Katniss bristle. She should have been furious. She should have pushed Clove’s hand off her thigh, glared until that grin slipped.

But she didn’t. Couldn’t.

Because the truth was, Clove’s heat pressed against her side, the lazy drag of her fingers, even the way she twisted her words—it all set something alight in Katniss that she couldn’t tamp down. And it terrified her how much she didn’t want to.

So she just sat there, pretending her face wasn’t on fire, pretending Clove hadn’t unraveled her with a few words. Pretended her eyes didn't flick down the tendons of Clove's neck, following a drop of sweat sliding down into her cleavage. Didn't get lost tracing the curve of her breasts with her gaze.

Across the room, Haymitch dragged a hand down his face. “For the love of—do either of you listen? Keep this up, and it won’t matter what story they tell. The Capitol doesn’t like being made fools of.”

Katniss blinked at him, uncomprehending. Clove's fingers tangled in the baby hairs on the back of her neck, using her nails to scratch just a little and Katniss groaned, letting her head slump forward. It didn't really matter what Haymitch meant right?

Clove only smirked, smug, curling tighter against Katniss’ chest as if daring Haymitch to try and pry her loose.

*

Katniss woke to Haymitch’s rasp, his breath thick with liquor.

“Get up. Time to wave and smile for your fans.”

She blinked, disoriented, the hum of the train itching in her bones. The weight on her chest registered next—a chin resting on folded hands, warm breath puffing against her chin.

Clove. Wide awake. Watching her.

Katniss jerked up, only for Clove to curl closer, unfazed, the corner of her mouth quirked up. “Morning, handsome.”

Haymitch rolled his eyes. “Safe it for the cameras. Would be nice of you for once not to look like you're about to knife the crowd. Trinket is probably about to have kittens if you don't improve your posture or be your happier self.”

The closer they got, the harder Katniss’ chest squeezed. She couldn’t keep still as she paced, smoothed down her dress, twisted her fingers together. She was going to see Prim. She’d see if her sister had been eating, if she had been cared for, if her mother had checked out again, left her sister to fend for herself, if she still—

Still wanted her.

The crowd outside the window was massive. Cheers, not jeers. Whistles, clapping, as though they hadn’t seen her standing with the Careers, hadn’t watched her betray Peeta, hadn’t hated her all these years with their quiet judgment.

Her pulse spiked. It wasn’t for her. Couldn’t be.

And then—Clove laced their fingers together. Firm, grounding. She raised their joined hands high when the doors slid open, and the cheers doubled.

Katniss couldn’t breathe. Not until she spotted them in the crowd. Her mother’s eyes, wet and blue, not the pair of eyes she was searching for. Gale’s grin, lopsided as always. And there—braided hair shining like a halo in the sunlight. On top of his shoulders, waving at her.

Prim. Beaming, calling her name.

Her name ripped out of Katniss where it had been hoarded in her chest for weeks. She let go of Clove, just barreled through the parting bodies until Prim was in her arms. The scent of herbs, soot, and home hit her so hard she dropped to her knees. She pressed frantic kisses to Prim’s hair, her cheeks, her brow, whispering her name, her little duck wiggling impossible closer to her.

Alive. Smiling. Hers.

Katniss swore she’d never let go again.

*

The days blurred together—seven days of celebrations, one long, noisy daze of feasts in the square at a scale that the District hadn't seen in 24 years and had Katniss run out of patience despite the food. Too many people wanting to shake her hand, too many speeches they had to make, too many cameras on them still. Katniss hovered between Prim and Clove like she could keep both in sight and safe if she just refused to blink.

District folk awkwardly shoved flowers and other little gifts into their arms, sweets, liquor, soaps. To her, it was too much. To Clove, it was laughably small.

“What do you mean it’s over?” Clove demanded as they slipped away from yet another dinner. “Seven days and they’re done celebrating? In Two we have parades for a month.”

“District Twelve doesn’t…” Katniss trailed off, scanning the crowd until she spotted Prim on the edges. Relief softened her shoulders. “We don’t have much to throw parades with.”

Clove made a face like the District had personally offended her. “Pitiful. If I’d known, I’d have packed the Capitol up and brought them here.”

Katniss only hummed, too focused on shadowing Prim’s every step, keeping her within arm’s reach. And Clove—irritation forgotten—soon matched her, circling Prim and Mrs. Everdeen like a guard dog. Or a cat, curling herself into whatever corner Katniss claimed, claws out to anyone who thought to move her.

The house in the Victor’s Village felt too big, too sterile, too cold. Well, not for Clove.

“This is mine,” she announced, stepping into the front hall like she’d bought the place herself.

Katniss blinked. “It’s… my house. My reward.”

Clove spun on her heel, smirking. “Correction: our house. Our victory. Our rewards. Half the spoils are mine. And you—” She jabbed a finger into Katniss’ chest. “—you are entirely mine. No sharing.”

Katniss just stared, mouth opening and shutting. Watching as Clove disappeared upstairs just as Prim and her mother rounded the corner, starting to investigate the house.

What was going on?

After getting Prim settled and finally being able to rip herself away she stumbled into the room meant for her, the master's bedroom and found Clove already sprawled across the bed, tucked into the blankets like she’d been there all along.

Katniss froze in the doorway, hit with a sudden revelation. “…Aren’t you supposed to go home to your own District?”

A sleepy grumble. Clove burrowed deeper into her pillow. “This is home. This is my victory. You’re mine. I’m claiming half this house. Deal with it.”

Then she reached blindly, caught Katniss’ wrist, and tugged her down into bed.

Katniss lay stiff, wide-eyed, while Clove draped herself over her chest like it was the most natural thing in the world.

How did this happen? How had she gone from plotting the death of the Career pack to going home to this? Like Clove was a cat who’d simply walked into her life, picked a warm spot, and decided she was staying.

Clove didn’t need a ring or a vow. Or Katniss considered their together or nothing, the promise she gotten out of Katniss had been enough for her. Now Clove had a house key, and knew Katniss had been unable to say no to her, not even once.

Katniss should have been indignant. Perhaps this was retribution. But Clove had protected her, bled for her, been willing to die for her. If Clove wanted compensation in the form of Katniss’ bed, Katniss’ house, Katniss herself… well.

“Might as well let it happen,” Katniss muttered under her breath.

Clove shifted, half-asleep, and smiled against her collarbone like she’d heard every word. Because when Clove curled tighter against her, smug even in sleep, Katniss felt that terrifying heat in her chest again—the one that made her think maybe, somehow, she didn’t mind being claimed at all.

Wrapped her arms around Clove and pulled her closer, nuzzling into her hairline, taking in her scent with a sigh.

Clove settled into Katniss’ life with the inevitability of ivy growing over anything abandoned, nature reclaiming what belonged to it. As she had said she made this her house also.

She had drawers in Katniss’ dresser, opinions about where the sugar belonged in the cupboard, or rather about almost everything. Katniss hadn’t agreed to any of it—she just blinked and found herself… rearranged.

Some of it came from instinct. Katniss was protective, without even thinking. Doors held open, her body between Clove and strangers, scanning crowds, letting Clove lead her by their intertwined hands.

But Clove was not one to leave instincts undirected. She leaned into them, honed them to her liking.

“Turn to your side” she ordered one night, tugging Katniss into place until she was curled up behind Clove. Deliberately angling herself so they were flush against each other, her hips in the cradle of Katniss' pelvis, body curled inward and pulling Katniss' arm around her. Legs tangled together, every inch of them.

“This is better.” Clove lifted her head, using her biceps as a pillow and pulled the blankets around them both. Katniss pressed her nose lightly to the back of Clove’s neck, breathing in the familiar warmth of her.

Katniss obeyed, being left with her cheeks hot and her heart stuttering.

Days later when her mother started a polite discussion about Clove using the new silver knives as throwing knives Clove crossed her arms, tilting her head lazily as she argued that she needed to keep her skills sharp, and then lifted a brow at Katniss. Silent but in her eyes an obvious command. To back her up.

Katniss blinked, having only half-listened while fletching arrows but the burn of Clove's stare had been enough to draw her attention and she did give her mother something else to worry about. Afterwards Clove had slipped into her lap, teeth grazing her jaw.

"That's right, you take my side in arguments." Clove purred, grasping her chin in between a curled index finger and her thumb, kissing her breathless and Katniss foolishly nodded. Not having known how many arguments Clove could start and how much back up was needed. (Prim was the only exception. Either because Clove knew better or because she quickly succumbed to her little sister's charms Katniss was unsure but was glad for.)

But at least the knife argument could be circumvented by a simple visit to the smithy.

Bathroom locks were seen as a suggestion. Katniss would stand under the shower either after returning from the woods or after breakfast—only to yelp (the first few times) when Clove jerked the curtain back, chest heaving, sweaty from her run and stepping in behind her like it was her right. “Water’s already hot. We should be conserving water,” she teased, sliding under the spray. Katniss sputtered but never pushed her out.

Might have pulled her closer.

Soon it was second nature: Katniss reporting where she was going, because Clove had been frantic the first time she couldn't find Katniss and Katniss had realised why when the same thing happened when she couldn't immediately find Clove, who had been roped into gallivanting around the District with Prim. Leaving Katniss to nearly tear apart the house in a panic.

It was easy to get used to Clove draped over her as if she was claimed territory, Clove’s voice at her shoulder whenever she tried to argue with Haymitch or the mayor, haggling with vendors.

Though the question lingered in the back of her mind. Was she really just letting this happen? She was supposed to be the careful one.

Money was the first true battlefield. Katniss, pale and sweating at the thought of spending too much, squirreled away every coin, muttering about rainy days and lean winters.

Clove? Clove threw money like corn to geese.

“Those pants are more patch than cloth,” she scoffed, plucking them from Katniss’ hands at home as Katniss went to mend them once more, pulling her along to the merchant district. “We’re buying new ones. End of discussion.”

To the tailor. Not even the Hob. The tailor.

Katniss nearly fainted at the price, nightmares guaranteed for a week. Clove just hummed, satisfied, while the shopkeeper nearly wept with joy at the sale. Especially as Clove picked up a few more things, a tight button up shirt for Katniss which she nearly bullied Katniss immediately into, a new dress for Prim which Clove was sure was the same color as her eyes. A winter coat for herself.

When Katniss finally admitted, quietly, that the safety of knowing food and shelter weren’t fleeting hadn't settled into her bones… Clove only arched an eyebrow. “Exactly. You’re welcome.”

Still, Katniss wasn’t sure what rattled her more: Clove complaining daily about Twelve’s lack of proper trade goods—or the fact that Clove referred to their money, their savings, as if it was obvious and spent them just like that.

And then there were the neighbors.

Haymitch, flopped across their porch “like a bloated corpse smelling of brewery,” as Clove put it and became a sort of morbid entertainment for her.

Clove poked him with a stick once. Now she kicked him not as lightly as she should in the ribs to get him off their porch, waking him up enough for him to stumble into his own house while he cursed them both. Katniss was mortified.

Gale fared worse. The moment he so much as suggested Katniss go hunting with him alone, Clove appeared at her side like a thundercloud, smile sharp. Arms tight around Katniss, nuzzling with her nose into her throat while Gale frowned. He obviously didn't like Clove, which seemed mutual. Katniss at least tried to keep the peace. Setting aside one day a week to hunt with him. Even if the last two times had been tense.

And through it all, Katniss kept wondering when she’d signed anything, when she’d agreed to being tied down like this. One moment she was surviving the Games; the next, she was… a kept woman. It couldn't be described differently. A wife without a wedding.

Clove never needed a ring. She had the house, half the spoils, and all of Katniss.

Whenever Katniss gathered the courage to fight back, to argue something solid—Clove would cock her head, lift a brow sharply and then as if it was nothing at all to her, would peel her shirt over her head, and leave Katniss’ brain scrambling into smoke.

Clove caught the stumble instantly, lips curving as if she’d been waiting for it. Argument won, she stretched deliberately, slow and feline, her bare skin brushing close to Katniss like it was an afterthought. Like she hadn’t just shifted the fight into something entirely different.

“Since you’re already staring,” she murmured, lazy and smug, fingertips skating down Katniss’ arm, “we might as well make good use of it.”

Katniss burned, furious at herself for folding so fast—but Clove’s laugh, low and pleased, was already tugging her into the next battle entirely. Her eyes glittered with that ruthless amusement, the hunger she never bothered to hide.

Katniss’ throat went dry. She hated the way her body jolted, how easily Clove made her forget words. But Clove only leaned in, smug, her lips brushing Katniss’ jaw like punctuation to her point.

Katniss knew it was a tactic. She knew it. And yet, every time, she fell for it, cheeks burning, thoughts scattered, giving Clove her victory without another word.

Even if it didn't feel like she was losing at all. Weeks ago she had been filled with trepidation of what Clove might do, what she would do, what she was up to. Knew what Clove's hands were capable of. Now most of the time Clove's hand didn't leave her form. And she didn't want it differently.

She didn’t know when the shift exactly happened. Only that it had.

*

“You know,” Prim started far too casually, spoon tapping her porridge, “I still can’t believe it. My sister who’s never looked at anyone her whole life suddenly decides to start flirting in the middle of the arena. With a career. With her.” She jerked her chin toward Clove, who was lazily peeling an apple with one of her knives.

Katniss choked. “What? No—I wasn’t—Prim, I never—”

Clove’s knife stilled. A slow grin curved her lips. “Oh, denial won't help you now." Clove hummed. “What else were you doing when you held branches back for me? Or when you brought me back my knives like some well trained little pet? You wanted me, Everdeen. Couldn’t take your eyes off me.”

“That was—threat assessment!” Katniss said, too loud. “You were the most dangerous one in the pack. I wanted to see where you kept your weapon's.”

Clove’s brows shot up. “Think my ass was a weapon, did you?”

Prim giggled. “What about feeding her? Or lying down next to her every night?”

Katniss threw up her hands. “Strategy! I wanted to keep her close so I could react if she turned on me!”

Clove tilted her head, watching her too intently. “You really mean that.”

“Of course I do!” Katniss snapped, too forceful, and the words landed wrong.

The smirk slid off Clove’s face. For a moment she looked younger, uncertain as a line appeared between her brows. “So what? I was strategy? Survival? What about the flirting? Your courting? None of this was real? You weren’t into me?” Her voice dipped low, sharp with something raw. “You didn't even want me? You were just watching me like I was another one of your targets?”

Katniss froze, gut dropping. She hadn’t meant—she hadn’t thought—

Clove set the knife down hard. “No.” Her knife clattered onto the table. Her voice cracked. “Do you know what that did to me? At first I thought—fine, you’re flattering me. Boosting my ego before I crush you. And then I let it happen because it was fun, and because—” her throat bobbed, “—because you made me feel wanted. Do you have any idea what that’s like for someone like me? And then it stopped being fun. It got real. I stopped fighting for myself, for my District, for my father’s stupid pride—I was fighting for you. And now you’re saying I was just another Career you were planning to put down?”

Katniss gaped at her, stricken. “That’s not—”

Clove cut her off, sharp. “Then explain. Explain the way you looked at me before our first kiss. I was waiting for you to finally make a move after a week of flirting. What did you think was happening?”

When Katniss took too long to answer Clove scoffed before she stood abruptly, chair scraping back before storming off.

Katniss quickly followed, blurting out. “I thought you were trying to wrangle me. Asserting dominance. That you were going to use me and then gut me.”

Clove’s mouth opened, then closed. Her eyes glistened with something dangerously close to tears. “So all this time—you thought I was just sharpening the knife for your back.”

Panic squeezed her chest. “No, Clove, listen—”

“How about after?” Clove pushed on, relentless. “After our first time. What was that to you, if not real?”

The high ceilings were white and dead silent.

Katniss’ voice broke quieter. “You…you started that.”

Clove gave a humorless laugh. “And you needed so much convincing?”

Katniss looked at her helplessly, the fight gone out of her. “…No. I saw you and I lost my head. I couldn’t think past you. I wanted you. I want you.”

Clove’s eyes darted over her face, searching for a lie. Her jaw flexed, then eased just a fraction. She looked away, exhaling slow and shaky. “…You’re infuriating.”

Katniss tried to step closer, but Clove put up a hand.

The air left Katniss’ lungs, searching to explain herself better. “No, Clove, that’s not—” she scrambled for words, panicked, “—it wasn’t my intention, but that doesn’t mean this isn’t real. Just because I didn’t start it—” she swallowed, desperate, “—doesn’t mean I didn’t want you.”

Clove’s eyes flicked over her, unreadable. “Lucky you’re pretty, Everdeen. Otherwise you’d talk yourself into an early grave.”

“Clove—” Katniss reached for her again, but Clove was already stalking up the stairs.

“Couch for you tonight,” she called over her shoulder. “If you weren’t trying to sleep with me then, tonight you won’t either.” A door slammed.

Katniss was left standing in the hallway, arms crossed, scowling and overwhelmed. “My own house,” she muttered. “Kicked me out of my own bed.”

Prim rolled her eyes as she passed her. “You basically dug your own grave.”

“Did not.” Katniss stood there, stunned, pouting like she hadn’t just been ordered out of her own bed. “I didn’t even—she was the one who—” She turned desperately toward Prim. “You saw her, right? Jumping me?”

"You really don’t know how to talk to girls, do you?”

Katniss glared at her sister.

*

Prim found her at dawn at the kitchen table, hair tangled, glaring into her tea. She had awoken with a crick in her neck and a sour taste in her mouth. The couch was too short, too stiff, and she’d spent half the night glaring at the ceiling muttering about traitorous Careers and ridiculous banishments.

“You know,” Prim said sweetly, “if you wanted a girlfriend you didn’t have to volunteer at the Reaping and use the Games to find one. Plenty of people in Twelve like you.” She made exaggerated kissy faces.

Katniss hissed back, mortified. “That wasn’t my plan! I wasn’t trying to seduce anyone!”

“Sure you weren’t.”

“Prim!” Katniss glowered. “I didn’t do anything!”

From the hall, Clove’s voice cut sharp as a knife. “What’s that about plenty of people liking her? Tell me who and I’ll cull the District.”

Clove appeared, dressed, arms crossed, eyes still sharp but no longer aflame. She raised a brow. “Still claiming strategy, Everdeen?”

Katniss’ mouth opened and closed. “…Good morning?”

Clove snorted, sliding into a chair across from Prim. “Barely.”

Prim, traitor that she was, put her chin in her hands and looked between them like she was highly entertained.

Katniss scrubbed her face, sighed, then looked at Clove. “I…I didn’t mean what it sounded like yesterday.”

“Oh?” Clove’s tone was razor-edged but quiet, controlled. “Because it sounded like you were saying none of it was real. That I was just another target.”

Katniss winced. “That’s not what I meant. At first, yes, I was watching you because I thought you were dangerous. But then—I couldn’t stop. And it wasn’t because I thought you were a threat anymore.” She swallowed hard, her voice rough. “It was because I wanted you. Even if I didn’t realise it then or could verbalise it. Even if I didn’t realize that’s what it looked like.”

Clove’s eyes flicked up, sharp, then softened despite herself. “You’re telling me you accidentally seduced me?”

“Yes!” Katniss blurted, then winced. “I mean—no—well—” She groaned, dragging her hands down her face. “I don’t know how it happened, Clove. I just know I looked at you, and I was done for.”

Clove studied her for a long, quiet moment. Then her mouth quirked. “You’re hopeless.”

Katniss risked a smile, sheepish. “But still yours?”

Prim made gagging noises, which Clove ignored as she leaned back in her chair, eyes raking over Katniss. She exhaled slowly, tension easing from her shoulders. “…You still don’t get it, do you? I gave up everything because of you. And you’re standing here acting like you stumbled into it.”

Katniss scooted closer, voice low, steady now. “Maybe I did stumble into it. But I’m not stumbling out. It was always you. Together or nothing.”

That, finally, cracked her. Clove’s mouth twitched, her mask slipping, revealing the faintest, almost embarrassed smile. She stood, brushing past Katniss with a hand grazing her waist, deliberately casual.

“Anything else you want to confess?” She asked, heading for the door. “Oh and take care not to accidentally flirt with anyone else or you won't be just sleeping on the couch."

Katniss blinked after her, then followed, grinning despite herself. “How is it you can banish me from my own bed? And I don't flirt.”

Clove shot her a glare. ”Apparently you do. And as I said our house meaning if you are being stupid you get to sleep somewhere you can think about what you have done."

Prim, still at the table, sighed dreamily. “Well, then you are going to sleep alone quite a lot.”

But Katniss didn’t care. Clove hadn’t slammed the door this time.

Chapter Text

Katniss had just sat down with her game bag to mend a part where the stitching was becoming loose after she had washed it, out of sight of Clove before the girl got any ideas of buying a new one only for Prim’s voice to immediately destroy any chance of peace. Sweet as ever and devastating as only a little sister’s could be.

“How does it feel knowing everyone in the District saw Clove half naked?”

Katniss froze. Her fingers slipped, the needle pricked into her finger with a sharp sting. The pain not enough for her mind not to conjure up the familiar growing sight, the taste of Clove's lips, the weight of her assets in her hands-

Prim tilted her head, all innocence. “And your reaction to them? I can’t believe you crumpled at the sight of breasts.”

“Prim!” Katniss swiped at Prim, trying to get a grasp on her while heat rose into her face like wildfire. Her little duck too smug for someone half Katniss’ size. "Do you know how dangerous I can be?" Katniss stood, project forgotten, if she got her hands on her little sister-

“Oh, really. Do you know how dangerous I can be?” Prim teased, mimicking her voice, eyes dancing. “Not as dangerous as breasts, apparently. Does Clove just lift her top to win arguments now?”

Katniss’ ears burned. Choking on nothing. Prim couldn't have witnessed any of that, did she? “Primrose Everdeen—”

From the doorway, Clove’s laugh sliced through, bright and merciless. “She’s not wrong. Panem saw you crumble for all of this.” She stretched in that infuriating, lazy way, eyes never leaving Katniss.

Katniss' eyes dipped for a second only for Clove's words to register. She hadn’t thought—hadn’t once thought—of the cameras, of the Capitol, of the audience. Panem. Of course they’d seen. Every touch, every kiss, every stumble into Clove’s hands.

Her stomach twisted so hard she thought she might be sick. Katniss staggered, had to brace herself against the wall, ground unsteady. Her ears buzzed, the air was hot and suffocating.

"Katniss?" The teasing edge was gone from both their voices but Katniss only shook her head.

How much had they seen? She had been so focused on survival, so distracted-

She needed to see. The Games were replayed and achieved were they not? The projector in the living room. She left them behind. She never thought she would watch their Games again. She didn't even remember what they had shown on stage before they were crowned. Nothing scandalous, right?

Or had she just faded it out? Her fingers shook, fumbling with the projector controls. Afraid. Not of seeing death. But of seeing the vulnerability she had allowed to be witnessed by everyone.

Bile rose in her throat. Her hand was covered by Clove's, who squeezed hers, intertwining their fingers before bringing the projector to life for her and inputting the last Games before pulling her to the couch.

The footage started, with some scenes from the chariot ride, training, nothing of note. For the bloodbath, coward that she was she closed her eyes and still saw it perfectly on the back of her eyelids play out. But then there it was. Her. Clove. The kiss. The first almost lulled her into a false sense of security. It was dark, their expressions barely visible, the hesitation obvious in her body language.

But the second one, bow still in hand and she just melted into it? Like her body had been waiting for Clove’s hands. The dazed look in her eyes. The swollen lips. The kiss, the frantic press of her mouth, her body bowing into Clove like she’d cut her strings.

“You see it, don’t you? How gone you were for me. That’s mine. Not theirs.” Clove's voice radiated smugness, speaking directly into ear, melting further into her side.

Damning. Seeing her jaw slack, while Clove stood utterly brazen, in control despite being bare chested-

In contrast Katniss' frantic edge, unguarded, hungry. As if she couldn't get enough of it. Not the face of a victor. Not the face of someone in control or scheming. There wasn't much naked skin shown, the flash of a bare back, the side of her bare ribs, chest cast in shadows but seeing her eyes, the undiluted desire-

Her simply folding to the presumed enemy.

Her own eyes on the screen looked dazed, hungry — she didn't recognize herself. But that's what strangers had seen, her lips part, her breath stutter, her body betray her.

Her breath caught in her throat.

Beside her, Clove sprawled over the couch cushions like it was a show put on for her alone. She smirked, lazy and cutting.

“They didn’t even get the best parts,” she offered which might have been meant as comfort or a brag while her hand ran along the inside of Katniss’ wrist.

Katniss wanted the earth to open and swallow her whole. Her hands trembled in her lap and she tried to pull away from Clove, but Clove draped herself across her like it was nothing. Pulled her down into a kiss.

*

After that, Katniss couldn’t breathe in public. If Clove so much as reached for her hand in the streets, Katniss went stiff, heart hammering. If Clove brushed her shoulder at the Hob, her cheeks burned hot enough to sear. Every laugh in the square felt like it was about her. Every eye was fixed on her.

Every time Clove reached for her hand, her stomach lurched, her pulse spiked, and she yanked herself free like she’d been burned. It wasn’t that she didn’t want it—it was that everyone was looking. Everyone was always looking now.

Clove noticed. Of course she noticed. It came to a head a week later. Clove had had enough. Katniss could see it in the glint of her eyes, the sharp tilt of her mouth.

Katniss should have expected what came next. Fleed.

One second she was walking through the square, head down, trying not to meet anyone’s eyes. The next, Clove had a fist in her lapel and yanked her sideways.

The kiss landed rough and filthy—Clove’s tongue slipping into her mouth before Katniss could breathe, her other hand pressing hard against her hip, finding her belt, fingers curling into it. Keeping her locked in place. Katniss staggered, clutching at Clove’s shoulders, every part of her body lit up at once.

She didn’t realize Clove’s hand had drifted until she heard the first wolf-whistle. Then another. Then the cheer of half the square erupting at once.

Katniss froze. Clove had slid deft fingers over her shirtfront, opening buttons, dragging her shirt wide enough open that skin showed—enough for her abdomen and her bra to be visible to the gathered in the square.

The roar of approval hit her ears, heat slammed into her face, and Katniss nearly keeled over.

And Clove—Clove only broke the kiss to smirk at her, eyes glittering, lips shining, digging her nails lightly into the lines of her abdomen. “Perhaps I should show you off, you are such a nice view,” she said, voice carrying just enough for the nearest onlookers to hear.

The whoops got louder.

Katniss wanted to sink into the ground. Instead, she let Clove haul her close again, too dazed to fight it, as her so-called admirers shouted themselves hoarse.

The crowd went feral.

“Don’t stop!” someone hollered.

“When’s our turn to touch?” another shouted, brazen, loud enough to cut through everything else.

Katniss’ stomach dropped clean out of her body.

Clove went very, very still against her. Then she pulled back just enough for Katniss to see her face, pupils blown, eyes nearly completely black, glittering with that particular coldness Katniss had come to recognize, the kind that usually ended with blood on the floor.

Though others didn't, the hoots and hollering didn't dimm round them as Clove’s gaze sliced through the crowd, hunting for the voice that had dared.

Katniss knew that coil of tension in her too well. Danger, radiating off her like heat off a forge. And she knew exactly what came next if she let Clove keep looking.

Before she could think twice, Katniss bent, braced, and all but hauled Clove over her shoulder. Gasps and laughter chased them as she barreled out of the square, her face burning so hot she thought she might combust.

She didn’t stop until the noise was a memory, Clove squirming at first, complaining, before suddenly ceasing her struggling. A second later it became clear why, as Clove gave her a sharp smack on her ass, following it with a hearty squeeze, causing Katniss to nearly stumble and drop her but Clove only cackled against her back like being carried off was the best joke in the world.

Katniss wasn’t sure if she was saving her District from Clove’s wrath or saving herself from any more mortification.

Probably both.

*

The first sign was the smell of smoke.

Katniss sat up in bed, nose wrinkling. For a second she thought she was still dreaming, back in the arena, fire curling through trees. Then came the unmistakable hiss-pop of something hitting hot oil. She bolted upright and stumbled out of the bed and down the stairs.

“Prim?” she called, already moving toward the kitchen.

No answer. Just another hiss, louder this time, then a yelp.

Katniss rounded the corner, eyes scanning the room automatically for any enemies in sight. To find only Clove, wild-eyed, clutching a wooden spoon like it was a weapon, standing in front of the stove where smoke poured from a pan.

“Don’t come closer!” Clove barked, flinching as the contents sizzled again.

“What did you—” Katniss started, then the pan popped, spitting something black and oily. A burst of flame. Heart hammering, she lunged, grabbed the handle with a rag, and flung the whole pan out the open window. It landed in the mud outside with a hiss.

Katniss turned back, breath ragged. “Are you insane? That could’ve—”

Clove’s hair stuck out in damp tufts, her face smudged with egg yolk, eyes blinking like she’d just survived a battle. For one long, dangerous heartbeat Katniss thought she might cry.

Then Clove laughed.

Not her usual sharp, mocking sound, but something unguarded, raw. She doubled over, giggling helplessly, shoulders shaking. “I almost… I almost killed us with lunch!” she wheezed.

Katniss just stared, frozen. She’d never seen her like this. Not in this combination. Messy. Uncomposed. Joyful.

Clove wiped her eyes with the back of her wrist, still laughing. “You should’ve seen your face—like you thought the mutts were coming again.”

Katniss’ pulse still thundered. “I thought the house was burning down!”

That only made Clove laugh harder. She collapsed into a chair, legs sprawled, grinning like an idiot. “I never got to try. Not between the academy and my father. He wouldn't let me do anything but train—say I was wasting time better spent training. Why bother teaching me anything but how to kill?” Her gaze flicked to the charred spatula, then back to Katniss, and her grin widened, brighter, freer. “And here I am—burning food in our kitchen.” She leaned back in her chair, arms stretched wide like she was daring the world to see. “Best disappointment I’ve ever been. Feels good.”

Katniss just stared, pulse still racing. She wanted to scold her, explain about fire hazards, about the waste of food but instead all she could think about was how happy Clove looked—messy, food-stained, grinning like she was lost in the euphoria of a victory.

Katniss pressed a hand to her forehead. “You’re not allowed in here alone. Ever. I mean it.”

“Relax.” Clove leaned back, smirk curling at the corner of her mouth. “Next time I’ll have Prim assist. She can show me how not to burn water.”

Katniss’ stomach dropped. “No. Absolutely not. You are not dragging Prim into this.”

Too late. The next day Katniss came in to find Clove and Prim shoulder-to-shoulder at the counter, flour everywhere, both of them laughing so hard while the kitchen looked like it had been through a war.

From then on, Katniss lived in a state of perpetual tension. Clove had given up any pretence of normalcy. If there had been any ever.

She did whatever she wanted—loud, reckless, brazen. Not just with Katniss but with the house. Painting on walls with Prim. First with their fingers than with special brushes. Soon they had something which looked like a mountain range and some animals, a goat and a cat and some other weird shapes adorning the wall next to the stair case. Singing off-key songs Prim seemed to teach her at the top of her lungs not only far too early in the morning but when ever she invaded Katniss' shower. Braiding flowers into Prim’s hair or helping her make goat cheese until she got bored and dragged Prim into different trouble.

Everyone else thought Katniss had tamed her. That she’d turned the knife-wielding Career into something human, something manageable. As if Clove hadn't entitled herself from the beginning to Katniss' space and now was buried beneath Katniss' skin unrecoverably.

If they cut her open now Katniss was sure they wouldn't find just blood vessels and her organs but traces of Clove, her fingerprints everywhere like on a crime scene, festering inside of her like a second organism.

Katniss was ruined.

Her reputation, her peace, her nights of sleep, all lost. All because she fallen prey to a tiny Career, let herself be hypnotized by, well certain qualities.-

And worse, no matter what she did, Clove always won.

If Katniss caved, Clove got what she wanted. If Katniss resisted, Clove needled and teased her until she snapped—and Clove got what she wanted anyway. Even when Katniss thought she’d gained the upper hand, she’d look down and find Clove smirking, satisfied, like she’d planned it from the start.

Typical Career. Always finding a way to win.

It only got worse after that. Even at night, regardless if Prim or Clove found her.

Prim found her once at the kitchen table, head in her hands, muttering in the dead of night about how she had killed all those people, the memories clinging to her like their blood to her skin had. Instead of making her tea or reassuring her, Prim had patted her arm before calling up the stairs. “Clove! Katniss needs you to take your shirt off now!”

It had been enough to break her out of her numbness.

“Prim,” Katniss blinked rapidly, registering the words, hissing because first of all Clove had problems enough sleeping and Prim really needed to stop making jokes about that.

“What? It seemed to help you in the Games. You didn’t think about killing anyone then.”

Katniss buried her face in her arms, wishing suffocation would take her.

It was true. Not the part about Clove taking her shirt off helping but they had enough problems between the two of them getting any sleep. If it wasn't Katniss:

Katniss shot upright, lungs seizing like she’d been drowning. Hair sticking to her damp forehead, the blankets clinging to her sweaty skin, sheets twisted and soaked beneath her. The room was dark, too dark, but her mind still replayed the snapping jaws and the stench of blood, those familiar eyes.

She dragged her hands down her face, chest heaving. Trying to breath. Just to breathe. Just breathe.

“Katniss.”

The sound nearly startled her more than the dream had.

Her head jerked to the side. Clove lay on her stomach, face half-buried in the pillow, but her eyes were open and fixed on her. Watching. Waiting. She hadn’t said anything until Katniss had refocused on where she was, like she was waiting for permission to exist in her space.

Katniss’ throat worked, too dry to answer. Clove moved slowly, deliberately, as though testing the ground for mines. She reached across the space between them and brushed her fingertips over Katniss’ wrist. Not gripping. Just touching. Her calluses were familiar, the slight chill of her skin soothing after the flames of her dream.

Katniss exhaled, shaky, and let her arm fall limp into the mattress. Enough permission for Clove to slide close, throwing her arm across Katniss' midsection and melted into her side.

The silence stretched again, but it wasn’t empty this time. Clove’s eyes finally fluttered close, her fingers tracing patters into her skin, tethering Katniss in place. Katniss’ pulse began to steady. She lowered herself back down into the sheets, sweat still cooling on her skin, but not alone.

It was Clove: The bed was cold.

Katniss shot up gasping, sweat slick down her back, sheets tangled at her waist. The room was dark, too dark, and her ears strained for sounds that weren’t there—mutt growls, cannon fire, Clove’s knives whistling through the air. Her bow wasn’t in reach. She knew that, but her hands still twitched like they should be closing on a string.

It took her a moment to realize the bed was half empty. She had far too much room. No one was latched to her side or halfway on top of her.

“Clove?” she rasped, heart still thrumming.

A creak answered her, then the soft pad of bare feet down the hall. Katniss pulled on her shirt, found Clove pacing like a trapped predator, hands twitching restlessly, eyes sharp and wild in the moonlight.

“You’re supposed to be asleep,” Katniss whispered.

Clove gave a sharp laugh. “Sleep? You mean lying frozen in the dark while I watch the Games play again and again in my head? No thanks.” Her voice was brittle, all edges, like she’d shatter if Katniss pressed.

“Clove,” Katniss entreated.

Clove didn’t look at her. Just kept moving, shoulders twitching, hands flexing like she couldn’t keep them still. “I can’t—” she muttered under her breath, “—can’t stay in there.”

Katniss reached out, caught her wrist mid-stride. Her skin was freezing, fingers stiff and bloodless. Clove flinched, but she didn’t pull away.

“You’re cold.” She rubbed her hands between hers.

“I don't think I can’t stay still.” Her voice cracked.

Katniss didn’t press, tugged her gently back toward the bedroom. “Then at least haunt me instead of the hall.”

For a second she thought Clove would wrench free, maybe snap at her. But after a twitch of resistance, Clove let herself be led back. Eventually—after more pacing, muttering, both of them—collapsed into each other, exhaustion dragging them down.

The bed creaked when they fell back into it. Clove trembled against her like she hadn’t stopped moving at all, shivering in the hollow of Katniss’ throat. Katniss tucked the blanket tighter, rubbing her back in small, steady circles until the tremors dulled, even if they didn’t disappear.

Katniss curled around Clove’s twitchy limbs, holding her still, as if she could keep her anchored by sheer will.

When sleep came, it was shallow, but they were both here. That was enough.

But sometimes it was peaceful. Blessed, impossible peace.

Katniss blinked awake slowly, warmth cocooning her. For once, her body wasn’t slick with sweat, and Clove hadn’t vanished into the halls. They were tangled, limbs heavy, breathing matched. Katniss let herself drift, willing herself back down into the rare softness of rest.

Then—

“Hey, Katniss?”

Katniss groaned. The house was quiet. The warmth of Clove pressed to her side lulled her further down, so she tried to ignore Clove knowing what was coming. Though Clove wouldn't let her, fingers dancing into the spaces between her ribs. “…What.”

“Would you still like me if I had no skin?”

Her eyes cracked open. “…What?”

“You heard me,” Clove said, tone maddeningly serious.

Katniss shoved her face into the pillow. “You’d be dead without any skin.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

Katniss sighed through her nose, the closest she could come to swearing in exhaustion. “I don’t like dead people.”

“So you’d just move on? Just like that?”

The words sliced with too much sharpness for nonsense. For a moment, Katniss’ eyes actually opened, seeing the faint smirk curving Clove’s lips, the glint in her eyes. Teasing. Poking. Picking. Because she couldn’t stand to be alone in her own head.

Katniss groaned louder this time, flopping her arm over Clove and dragging her firmly against her chest. She wrapped both arms around her like a noose, squeezing until Clove squawked in protest.

“I’d like you in whatever state, forever,” Katniss mumbled into her hair. “Especially if you let me sleep now.”

Clove went very still. Then she laughed — soft, bubbling up from deep in her chest, muffled against Katniss’ collarbone. Clove’s laughter vibrated against her skin, smug and soft. She settled easily this time, head tucked under Katniss’ chin

Katniss shut her eyes again, only for Clove to mumble. "Would you still like me if I was a cheese bun? Wait, would you eat me if I was a cheese bun?"

Katniss let out a strangled noise that was half groan, half laugh, and wrapped her whole body around Clove like she could suffocate the nonsense out of her. Clove only laughed harder, smug and small and maddeningly alive against her chest.

*

Parcel day was one of the few times Katniss didn't have to worry or think.

She handed out bundles of bread and cheese, bolts of cloth, jars of preserves, the spoils of their victory turned into something useful. Children clustered around her legs, their grubby hands tugging her sleeve. Especially the little ones seemed drawn to her.

“Can we see your bow?”

“Is the Capitol really bigger than the whole Seam?"

“Were you scared of the mutts?”

Their voices piled over each other, guileless and hungry for stories, reaching out to touch her braid or the edges of her sleeves like she might dissolve if they didn’t. It was far too easy to pull the smaller ones into her arms, settle them onto her hips. Let their fingers grasp at her cheeks and her, smile back at them and deflect their answers. Hoped most of them would never see the Capitol with their own eyes or mutts.

In contrast to the teenagers who had to be afraid of the Reaping, those didn't smile but still watched her, a silent regard, after all she was the first victor in over twenty years. It tasted bitter on her tongue.

Their parents kept further back, cautious, careful not to crowd her, though their eyes followed her every move.

Katniss’ chest ached. They all looked at her now. With hope. It made her nearly flee back home, knowing perhaps she was looking at her future tributes, children she'd have to mentor. Only for Madge to brush up against her side. For the little ones to climb on her as if she was a tree, wanting her to spin and throw them up in the air. Their laughter making it easier to breathe.

Madge remained beside her, organized, calm as always, making sure the names were ticked off the list, parcels distributed evenly. Madge never filled silences, never asked Katniss to. Just… steady.

Until, with the last basket emptied, Madge leaned in with a sly little smile.

“You know,” her voice low but teasing, “I could’ve saved myself a lot of yearning if I’d known flashing my chest would’ve gotten your attention. Might’ve tried it months ago.”

Katniss froze. Yearning?

Her ears rang. Her face went molten. She hadn’t even been sure they were friends.

Madge giggled, covering her mouth with her hand, utterly delighted by Katniss' unraveling.

Katniss clutched the empty basket tighter, brain scrambling for sense. Yearning. Chest. Attention. What?

Her mind threw up scraps like flares: Madge slipping her the mockingjay pin, brushing a kiss against her cheek. Madge sitting with her at lunch day after day, them teaming up for any projects, Katniss sometimes walking her home when Prim had school longer than her. Madge always inviting her in when Katniss came to sell her strawberries.

Clues. Were those clues?

Or had Madge just been joking now? Just teasing her the way Clove did, getting a rise out of her?

It didn't matter, Katniss wanted to melt into the floor and was quick with her goodbyes, ignoring how Madge giggled still as she hugged her.

Katniss was still frowning when she slipped inside their house. The fire was low, throwing shadows across the walls, and Clove was sharpening one of her new knives at the table. She looked up, head cocked.

“You’ve been muttering to yourself since you came in.” Her knife stilled. “Care to share with the class?”

Katniss blinked, distracted, then sighed. “Madge said the weirdest thing.”

Clove arched a brow, deliberately casual. “Weird how? Like ‘your braid looks like a dead squirrel’ weird, or…weird-weird?”

Katniss’ ears burned, hand twitching for her braid remembering all those little kids playing with it before she saw Clove's smirk. “She said she could’ve saved herself a lot of yearning if she’d known flashing her chest would’ve gotten my attention.”

Clove stilled again. Then she barked out a laugh, sharp and sudden, leaning back in her chair. “Oh, she’s been sitting on that all this time.”

Katniss frowned deeper. “What do you mean, all this time?”

Clove’s grin sharpened. “Oh darling, I could’ve told you weeks ago that blondie was making heart eyes at you. The way she looks at you, tucking her hair behind her ear, blushing? Trying to cope a feel by squeezing your bicep as a friendly gesture? Practically a neon sign. And you—” She jabbed her knife in Katniss’ direction. “You didn’t notice a damn thing.”

“I thought—” Katniss faltered, ears going hotter. It just made sense for Madge to look at her when they talked and Madge didn't touch her overly right? “Madge is just helping. She's the mayors daughter, I guess we are friends."

That only made Clove laugh harder, throwing her head back. When she finally looked at Katniss again, tension had eased around her eyes, something softer beneath the bite.

“You really didn’t see it.” She said it like a revelation, her grin curving slow. “All that time. And you never saw her.”

Katniss crossed her arms, scowling, half defensive. “There was nothing to see! I think. I'm still thinking she's joking. And even then I never even thought about that stuff, looked at anyone like that, before-" She trailed off, averted her gaze. "I guess before you."

Clove set her knife down, watching her with intent that made Katniss’ stomach twist. But instead of pouncing, Clove leaned back, exhaling through her nose, satisfied. “Good,” she offered simply.

Katniss stared at her. “Good?”

“Yeah because there won't be an after me either,” Clove smirked, tugging Katniss closer by the waist until she stood between her knees. “Because it means when you looked at me, when you touched me, when you kissed me—you weren’t playing games. You didn’t even know what you were doing.” Her eyes gleamed. “You just wanted me. And that makes all the difference.”

Katniss’ heart stuttered, but Clove was already leaning in, pressing her mouth against the underside of her jaw with a satisfied hum. Katniss, still dazed, managed a weak protest. “You’re ridiculous.”

Clove grinned against her skin, giving a little nip. “And you’re oblivious. You're just lucky that I'm prepared to pick up the slack for you."

*

At the Hob, things weren’t better. She’d been haggling with Greasy Sae, back and forth, both of them grinning because Katniss always paid more than she needed to. But just as Katniss reached for her coin purse, after she had haggled Greasy Sae down, she cackled, “What? You trying to cheat me out of my hard-earned money. Tell me is it because I’m not shoving my breasts in your face like half the District?”

The vendors of the nearby stalls overheard and erupted in laughter. Katniss went ashen, then beet-red, sputtering nonsense as she slapped down twice the amount of coin needed and fled, smoke practically trailing behind her.

Clove heard about it. Of course she did.

That night, she stood in their room in nothing but Katniss' boxers, staring down at her own chest like it had personally betrayed her. Then she turned, voice edged with faux seriousness. “So you’re telling me any breasts would’ve done?”

Katniss blinked, caught mid-undress. “Hmm?”

Clove folded her arms, that dangerous little smirk tugging at her mouth. The tone of her voice was her argument voice—the one Katniss had learned to dread. Itching for a fight, even if it was just a spar, just to amuse herself.

And Katniss snapped. No, not tonight. She was not stepping into another trap. Not when everyone already teased her, not when Clove was the worst offender and the reason in one. Not when Clove's breasts were bared to her gaze, moving with every breath she took.

She crossed the room in two strides, picked Clove up by the back of her thighs, relishing in her surprised gasp, the brush of their skin and tossed her onto the bed.

“You ruined my reputation,” Katniss muttered darkly as she climbed in after her.

Clove’s laughter rang out, bright and victorious. She didn’t seem to regret anything not if it meant ending up here, pinned beneath Katniss, watching her lose her tight grip on her control.

That was the thing: no matter what Katniss did, Clove always ended satisfied. If Katniss gave in—Clove won. If she resisted—Clove pushed until she broke, and Clove won. Even when Katniss thought she’d outmaneuvered her, Clove was grinning like she’d planned it all along.

So no, Katniss definitely hadn't tamed Clove. No matter what the rest of Panem thought, excluding her own District. She hadn't tricked the Career in an elaborate ploy, turned her ruthlessness into something soft. No if someone had been tricked it was Katniss.

Clove had picked her, like a cat picking its person, and made her home in Katniss’ space, in her family, in her bed.

And Katniss—Katniss Everdeen, the Girl on Fire—was nothing but a warm fire to cozy up to.

*

For the first time since the arena, the house was quiet. Prim was off at the Seam with Lady, no Clove lurking in every shadow like some knife-wielding barn cat, and Katniss had finally, finally a chance to breathe.

She showered and scrubbed herself down first after half a day of hunting then ran the tub hot, so the water would stay clear. Slipped into the tub and was actually able to stretch out her legs, only her shoulders peeking out of the water. The heat seeped into her aching muscles, unwinding knots she hadn’t even known were there. She leaned back, let her eyes close. For one blissful moment she thought she might melt into the porcelain.

This was it. This must be what peace felt like.

Five minutes later, she was bored out of her mind. Her braid was already unplaited. Her skin was clean. There was nothing to do but sit there and… process? Whatever that meant. She found herself tapping her fingers on the rim of the tub, restless, wired. Not sure what to do now. She wasn't used to doing nothing. So what now?

And of course, that was when the door rattled.

Katniss sat up with a groan. Locked doors had never stopped Clove before, and apparently today was no different. A pause, then the soft scrape of the latch, and Clove slipped inside like she’d been invited. Her eyes flicked to the tub, to Katniss, and her grin turned feral.

“Hello, handsome. Here all her by your lonesome? All wet and naked and you didn't even think of inviting me?" Clove asked.

Katniss had just enough time to open her mouth - too late. Clove’s shirt was already over her head, her boots kicked off, her pants shucked down in a pile. Clothes littered the floor in a trail. Katniss only managed a strangled noise before Clove stepped in, water sloshing so violently it nearly spilled over the edge.

“You’re flooding the—”

Clove settled right between Katniss’ legs, back pressing into her chest, head tilting lazily against her shoulder. Placing a kiss against the underside of her jaw; Katniss stilled. The chaos should’ve been irritating, but Clove was warm and damp and humming under her breath.

“Clove—” Katniss started.

But her head rested on Katniss’ shoulder, hair tickling her skin, one hand sketching shapes into Katniss’ knee under the water.

For the first time in days, Katniss' body truly relaxed. Clove’s fingertips continued their path up to Katniss’ thigh. Katniss exhaled, slowly, letting her hands drift until they rested against the taut line of Clove’s stomach. She could feel the steady thrum of her pulse, the rhythm of her breath. For a moment, she let herself sink into it, forehead pressed against Clove’s hair, her lips brushing the curve of her neck. Calm. Finally.

Naturally, that didn’t last.

Because Clove shifted. Turned. Climbed.

Suddenly Katniss had a lap full of slippery, half-submerged Career, straddling her thighs with wicked intent. The water nearly spilled over completely as Clove pressed in close, kissing her hard, hands everywhere at once.

“Clove,” Katniss hissed, just as Clove’s tongue found hers.

The kiss was rough, sloppy, insistent, Clove’s hands sliding up her arms, over her shoulders, one already cradling her jaw to tug her closer.

“You’re going to drown us,” Katniss muttered between kisses, shoving at Clove’s slick skin with half-hearted resistance.

Clove only grinned against her mouth, pressed closer until Katniss nearly slipped beneath the water.

So much for peace.

Clove laughed at her startled expression, leaned in to kiss it off her, kissing her with open, insistent heat as she ground down into Katniss.

Katniss managed a muffled protest between kisses. “You’re—going to drown—us—”

Clove bit her lip gently in response, tugging her closer until Katniss nearly slipped again beneath the water.

“You’re ruining the bath,” Katniss tried again, her voice pitched low and strangled.

“Enhancing it,” Clove rebutted smugly, lips trailing to her jaw.

“I wanted peace—” Katniss grumbled, even as her hands found Clove’s hips, steadying her.

“Boring,” Clove corrected, grinding down until Katniss’ head thudded against the rim of the tub.

“You’re a menace,” Katniss offered, but her grip only tightened, helping the movement of Clove's hips.

“And you love it,” Clove replied, sealing her mouth over hers again, water splashing over the sides with every shift of her body.

Katniss tried, she really did, to cling to her complaint, but Clove’s grin, her kisses, the relentless way she pressed closer—soon the bathroom floor was slick, her peace well and truly gone, and Katniss found herself kissing back with a groan, swallowing Clove's moan.

*

"Get off." Katniss tried to shrug off Clove clinging to her back, stifling a shriek as Clove's cold hands landed directly on her skin.

"Make me." Clove purred into her ear but couldn't stay serious giggling as Katniss grasped her thighs, trying to buck her off while hoping they wouldn't slip and break both their necks with the ground frozen almost solid under the snow.

"Tomorrow I'm going hunting without you."

"Never." Clove squeezed her legs tighter around her, wrapping her arms around her neck, nearly choking her.

"Clove!" Clove blew raspberries against her neck before giving a sharp nip to the flesh, Katniss tried to knock her with her head gently away.

The only retreat was forward into the house, panting with Clove on her back and the snow sticking to her feet. At the front door, she paused, nearly loosing her balance while knocking the slush from her shoes before going in. Hoisting up Clove higher on purpose to nearly cause her to get caught on the doorframe. Clove squeezing her sides with her thighs in admonishment, laughing and ducking, resting her chin on Katniss' head.

She had barely stepped inside when her mother was there, holding her arm out as if to stop them.

“Don’t worry, we're taking off our shoes here,” Katniss hoped to stop an argument before it happened, already feeling Clove tense before she slipped of her back. Though both of them left their boots on the mat. Her mother had been working day and night to make everything perfect for the cameras, so it was no time to be tracking up her shiny floors.

Her mother gave an odd, breathy laugh and removed the game bag loaded with supplies from Clove's shoulder.

“It’s just snow. Did you two have a nice walk?”

“Walk?” Clove tilted her head, shooting Katniss a look as if she wasn't sure her mother had gone over the brink. Her mother knew they had been in the woods since dawn.

Then Katniss saw the man standing behind her in the kitchen doorway. One look at his tailored suit and surgically perfected features, and she knew he was from the Capitol. Something was wrong.

“A very nice walk, very relaxing thanks to someone, who didn't turn the walk nearly into a wrestling match.” Katniss nudged Clove into the side as if to emphasize but pulled her focus to the strange man in their house, seeing Clove straighten.

“Someone’s here to see you,” said her mother. Her face was too pale, and Katniss could hear the anxiety she was trying to hide.

“I thought they weren’t due until noon.” Katniss pretended not to notice her mother’s state. “It'll be great to see Cinna and the others again isn't it Clove?"

“No, Katniss, it’s—” her mother began.

“This way, please, Miss Everdeen,” said the man.

He gestured down the hallway. It was strange to be ushered around her own home, but she knew better than to comment on it. Though Clove didn't. Because the man stopped her as she went to follow.

"Only Miss Everdeen was requested."

Clove's eyes narrowed and their eyes met over the shoulders of the man separating them. Katniss didn't like that. But even less she liked the fight sparking to live in Clove's form, not without knowing what was going on, who was in their home.

She shook her head and while Clove's lips pursed she crossed her arms and stayed.

Katniss gave Clove and her mother a blithely smile over her shoulder. “Probably more instructions for the tour.”

They had been sending them all kinds of information about her itinerary and what protocol would be observed in each district. But as she walked toward the door of the study, the door was closed, a door that's never been closed before. Who was here? What did they want? Why was her mother so pale? Where was Prim? Hopefully in school far away and safe from whatever this was.

Katniss stepped into the study and almost flinched when the scent of blood registered. Heavy in her nose. Conflicting with the scent of roses. The only reason why her mind didn't go back into the arena immediately why she could take another step into the study, close the door.

A small, white-haired man who seemed vaguely familiar was reading a book. He held up a finger, took a moment then he turned to face her and Katniss’ heart skipped a beat.

She was staring into the snakelike eyes of President Snow. She would have never forgotten his eyes. Those eyes meeting hers as he presented the crown, twisting it into two. A predator, a viper in the high grass, scenting the air for her fear.

He should be in the Capitol. Not here in her study. Not in their home. So close to her loved ones. He wasn't supposed to be here.

What could he be doing here? Her mind rushed back to the opening days of other Victory Tours. She remembered seeing the winning tributes with their mentors and stylists. Even some high government officials had made appearances occasionally. But she had never seen President Snow. He attended celebrations in the Capitol. Period.

But what could she have done to draw his ire? Had Clove permission to go home with her? Wait, the way they won together? But the Capitol had seemed in a frenzy about their win-

But his gaze alone sent a shiver down her spine. He despised her. And he was here in her home. In her District. Close to everyone she loved.

All she wanted to do was keep Clove and herself alive. Still wanted to keep her family alive and that included Clove. They had both been allowed to live, been crowned victors, had been celebrated and had waved goodbye to the cameras. The last six months they had been left alone. It had been...blissful.

So why now? It must have something to do with the Victory tour. It was supposed to start tomorrow, his visit couldn't be coincidental. His personal visit would also mean an immediate executioner's sword. He could have her killed, her family with a snap of his fingers.

And he knew it. Settling inside their house like it belonged to him, in their study like it was his, like she was the guest. So she didn’t welcome him or offer him a chair. She didn’t say anything. In fact, she treated him as if he were a real snake, the venomous kind. She stood motionless, her eyes locked on him, considering what he might want, how she could give it to him. To get him out of here as quick as possible.

“I think we’ll make this whole situation a lot simpler by agreeing not to lie to each other,” he said. “What do you think?”

Katniss thought her tongue had frozen and speech would be impossible, so she surprised herself by answering back in a steady voice, “Yes, I think that would save time.”

President Snow smiled, stretching his weirdly puffy and lips which had been definitely altered, to make him perhaps more appealing. He should have spent his time and money on different pursuits, it would have been more successful.

“My advisors were concerned you would be difficult, but you’re not planning on being difficult, are you?” he asked.

She shook her head. Difficult for what?

“That’s what I told them. I said any girl who goes to such lengths to preserve her life isn’t going to be interested in throwing it away with both hands. And then there’s her family to think of. Her mother, her sister, and all those… cousins.”

He lingered on the word cousins, and it took her a moment to remember who he meant, the Hawthorne's, the Capitol had made them family in their interviews. Though it was obvious the President knew they didn't share blood.

At least he was blunt. Katniss had never done well with hidden knives.

“I have a problem, Miss Everdeen,” said President Snow. “A problem that began the moment you pulled out those poisonous berries in the arena.”

Katniss’s throat tightened. The moment that had changed everything. She’d thought she was forcing the Gamemakers’ hand—two victors or none. Together or nothing.

“If the Head Gamemaker, Seneca Crane, had had any brains, he’d have blown you to dust right then. But he had an unfortunate sentimental streak. So here you are. Can you guess where he is?” he asked.

Katniss nodded. Of course she could guess. Executed. The scent of roses thickened, suffocating, the undercurrent of blood clinging to it like rot. Her stomach flipped.

“After that, there was nothing to do but let you play out your little scenario. And you were pretty good, too, with the love-crazed schoolgirl bit. The people in the Capitol were quite convinced."

Love-crazed? Bit? He was glaring at her while Katniss was left bewildered. The stage, Caesar, the whistles and the thunderous applause when Clove and her had been on stage. There had been nothing amiss, had there been? "Unfortunately, not everyone in the Districts fell for your act." he concluded.

What act? And what did he mean the Districts? They had all seen the same footage of the Games hadn't they? The same footage she had just rewatched. Her confusion must have been obvious because he addressed it.

"This, of course, you don't know. You have no access to information about the mood in other Districts. In several of them, however, people viewed your little trick with the berries as an act of defiance, not an act of love. And if a girl from District Twelve of all places can defy the Capitol and walk away unharmed, what is to stop them from doing the same? What is to prevent, say, an uprising?"

She needed a moment. The berries had been a last try to get home to Prim. To keep Clove and herself alive. Defiance? Clove's words had rung true, they didn’t care if they lived or died. But their lives belonged to them. She had known they wanted a show. And she had been sick of giving it to them. Sick of playing their Games. And refusing to go home without Clove. But she hadn't meant for it-

Her breath caught. Defiance? The berries had been desperation—nothing more. For Prim. For Clove. To survive. But his words pressed down like a weight. “There have been uprisings?” she blurted, disbelief and a flicker of terror tangling in her chest.

"Not yet. But they'll follow if the course of things doesn't change. And uprisings have been known to lead to revolution." President Snow rubbed his temple. "Do you have any idea what that would mean? How many people would die? What conditions those left would have to face? Whatever problems anyone may have with the Capitol, believe me when I say that if it released its grip on the districts for even a short time, the entire system would collapse."

Katniss was taken aback. That he even answered her question and for a heartbeat, Katniss almost believed the sincerity in his tone. Almost. But his eyes, those pale, watchful eyes, belied every word and she lived a different reality. The welfare of the people of Panem was not a concern of his. Perhaps the citizens of the Capitol, perhaps wanting to hold on to their lavish lifestyles but not to the Districts.

So she couldn't stop herself from saying. “It must be a very fragile system, if a handful of berries can bring it down.”

A pause stretched. Then he inclined his head slightly. “It is fragile, but not in the way that you suppose.”

There was a knock at the door, and the Capitolite stuck his head in. “Her mother wants to know if you want tea.”

“I would. I would like tea,” said the President while Katniss blinked at him in disbelief once more.

Her mother appeared moments later, tray trembling just a little in her hands. Katniss’ stomach twisted as she set it down. She shouldn’t be here.

“Set it here, please.” He placed his book on the corner of the desk and pointed at the center.

Her mother set the tray on the desk. It held a china teapot and cups, cream and sugar, and a plate of cookies.

“What a welcome sight. You know, it’s funny how often people forget that presidents need to eat, too,” President Snow offered charmingly. Well, it seemed to relax her mother a bit, anyway.

“Can I get you anything else? I can cook something more substantial if you’re hungry,” she offered.

“No, this could not be more perfect. Thank you,” he said, clearly dismissing her. Katniss’ mother nodded, shot her a glance, and left.

President Snow poured tea for both of them and filled his with cream and sugar, then took a long time stirring. Katniss observed for a long moment uncomprehendingly watching President Snow drink tea in her study when he should be in the Capitol, far far away. Until she realised he was waiting for a response.

Katniss tilted her head. Still unsure what he wanted. "It wasn't an act and I didn’t mean to start any uprisings."

His eyes narrowed as he leaned back. He wasn't pleased. “I believe you didn't mean for any uprisings to happen. It doesn’t matter. Your stylist turned out to be prophetic in his wardrobe choice. Katniss Everdeen, the girl who was on fire—you have provided a spark that, left unattended, may grow to an inferno that destroys Panem."

“Why don’t you just kill me now?” Katniss quickly cut in, hoping to offer herself as a sacrifice before he demanded more blood spilled, turned to Clove or Prim.

“Publicly?” he asked. “That would only add fuel to the flames.”

“Arrange an accident, then."

“Who would buy it?” he asked. “Not you, if you were watching.”

“Then just tell me what you want me to do. I’ll do it." There had to be a way out of this. Clove and her had made it out of the arena. She wasn't giving up now. Not when she had seen Clove open up, how open and free she was now that she was allowed to be. And Katniss didn't want to let go. Not of Prim. Never again. Wanted to hold on to Clove, they had been promised time. If she could not have it she would secure it for them.

She had done things, she never thought herself capable of in the arena just to keep her promise to Prim, just to ensure Clove and her survived. There was nothing she wouldn't do now to ensure her family survived.

“If only it were that simple.” He selected a cookie, examined it like something rare. “Lovely. Your mother made these?”

“My sister and Clove.” For the first time, Katniss found she couldn’t hold his gaze. The cup rattled when she reached for it; she set it down quickly and grabbed a cookie to hide the tremor.

“Clove. How is the love of your life?” he asked.

Love of her life? A bit dramatic. Just because they were living together and Clove was in her bed every night, even now her side was weirdly empty without her-

Katniss shook her head, thought about Clove's various pursuits, her bouncing of the walls with energy and terrorising her, she settled on a simple, "Good."

“At what point did she realize the exact degree of your indifference?” he asked, dipping his cookie in his tea.

Degree of her indifference? “I’m not indifferent." She looked at him, completely perplexed and not sure what he meant. Indifferent to Clove? How could she ever be? Not even when she had thought Clove was laying in wait for her to bare her throat for her awaiting blade had Katniss ever been indifferent to her.

“But perhaps not as taken with the young woman as you would have the country believe."

“Who says I’m not?” Now she was utterly lost. The whole country had seen what happened in the arena. The footage of the Games had been damning, the teasing from both Clove and Prim had been worse, she couldn't walk into the Hob without them making comments about it. Was he as the President not required to watch the Games? What had he grown bored of watching children die for the Capitol's entertainment? Or was he growing old and forgetful?

Katniss stared at his white beard, his bushy eyebrows while his face was weirdly stretched just as his lips. Attempting to appear youthful. Though it didn't work. He was probably the oldest man currently in District 12. Perhaps something had messed with his mind. Had he been there for the Dark Days?

“I do,” said the president. “And I wouldn’t be here if I were the only person who had doubts. How’s the handsome cousin?”

“I don’t know... I don’t...” It took her a moment before she got that he meant Gale, and she wasn’t sure what he had to do with the conversation at all. Her revulsion at Gale being mentioned and the anger at this conversation choked her off.

“Speak, Miss Everdeen. Him I can easily kill off if we don’t come to a happy resolution,” he said. “You aren’t doing him a favor by disappearing into the woods with him each Sunday.”

If he knew this, what else did he know? And how did he know it? Did he have her watched? In the woods? Cameras? Mutts like the jabberjays only for vision instead of sound? Or simply cameras like in the arena? But if he knew about her sundays with Gale then he would also know about Clove’s shenanigans, that she was rarely alone because Clove was always by her side. And if there were cameras in the woods-

Then there was again footage of her and Clove-

She wasn't going to think about it. She was starting to get why Haymitch barely left his house. Perhaps she should do the same. Although she still wasn't sure what President Snow was alluding to with Gale.

“Please don’t hurt Gale,” she whispered. “He’s my friend. He’s been my friend for years.”

“I’m only interested in how it affects your dynamic with Clove, thereby affecting the mood in the Districts,” he said.

Where this the ramblings of an old man? A mad man? Still he was the President. But how could Gale be affecting her dynamic with Clove? He had spoken about selling this as love not defiance. So she gave a shot in the dark.

“I’m in love with her just as I was?” she offered.

“Just as you are,” corrected President Snow.

“Just as I am,” Katniss corrected, heart in her throat, hands clammy, hoping Clove wasn't overhearing this somewhere or just sensing this. She was definitely not ready for that conversation. Not when Clove already taken their little agreement in the arena for allowance to take over Katniss' life. A love confession would give her probably permission to steal Katniss' soul or Prim.

“Only you’ll have to do even better if the uprisings are to be averted,” he said. “This tour will be your only chance to turn things around.”

Katniss leaned back, dazed. Do even better. He couldn't mean it, What was she supposed to do? The entirety of Panem had seen them kiss, had seen them-

"The Districts will know that it was love not defiance, I'll convince them." How? She couldn't act to save her life. And if they weren't convinced as the President said by what they had seen in the Games then what chance did she have?

President Snow rose and dabbed his puffy lips with a napkin. “Aim higher in case you fall short.”

“How?”

“Convince me,” he said. He dropped the napkin and retrieved his book. Katniss didn’t watch him as he headed for the door, so she flinched when he whispered in her ear, “By the way, I know about the kiss.” Then the door clicked shut behind him.

Which kiss? She was going to throw up. Their country was run by a senile old man, who had the power to kill her family with a snap of his fingers and who definitely didn't like her.

A direct death threat to her family, to Clove, to Gale, with others to follow. Everyone she loved doomed. And who knew who else would pay for her actions? Unless she turned things around on this tour. Quieted the discontent and put the president’s mind at rest. And how? By proving to the country beyond any shadow of a doubt that she loved Clove Fuhrman.

She was so confused. The entire district teased her about her relationship, about how smitten she was with Clove. So what else was there to do? She wasn’t good at acting.

Clove could act. She could perform under pressure. She had people in the palm of her hand, made them do whatever she wanted. Katniss was the one who shut up and sat back and let her do the talking or did whatever she needed in support. But it seemed her devotion was in question, not Clove’s.

She heard her mother’s light, quick tread in the hall. She couldn't know about this. Not about any of this. She took a shaky sip of her tea.

“Is everything all right, Katniss?” her mother asked.

“It’s fine. We never see it on television, but the president always visits the victors before the tour to wish them luck,” Katniss said brightly.

Her mother’s face flooded with relief. “Oh. I thought there was some kind of trouble.”

“No, not at all,” Katniss replied absently. Snow had mentioned Gale so often why? Still she needed to warn him. Perhaps get some perspective. “I forgot to bring home some bandages like you asked. I just get some now.”

Her mother opened her mouth to protest but Katniss quickly sidestepped her nearly stumbled over Clove leaning in the hallway, who pushed off against the wall as she saw her.

"What did the President want from us?" Us not you. Not yours but always ours. Clove reached for her hand but Katniss just fleetingly squeezed it, walking past Clove.

She needed to talk about this to someone. She didn’t want Clove to get hurt. But Clove always made sense. Though the words degree of her indifference pulsed through her veins. She grimaced. Wasn't that what Clove had talked about? Everything she had given up on because Katniss had made moves she didn't even register?

"I need some air." When Clove made to follow her she shook her head. "Alone please."

Clove stared at her, eyes darting over her face but didn't follow when Katniss put on her shoes and stepped out of the house.

*

The alleys behind the Seam houses always smelled like coal dust and smoke, grounding her with it's familiarity. Though Katniss hadn’t come here to linger. She had come here to warn Gale, perhaps to process her talk with Snow get a bit of perspective before having to talk about it with Clove.

Snow had made himself clear. Threats dripped between his smiles like blood from a puncture wound.

Now Gale stood in front of her, arms crossed, the lamplight slanting over the edge of his jaw. He was still in his work clothes, coal dust clinging to him, brows furrowed as he took in her words.

Gale’s expression shifted, not fear but something calculating. "He singled me out why?"

She blinked, paused in her pacing. “What do you mean?”

Gale’s eyes caught the light, something uncertain and too intent underneath. "You just said he was worried how I affect your dynamic with Clove, so how do I?"

Katniss frowned, half a laugh catching in her throat. “Gale, I just told you he threatened both our families, the President is talking about uprisings, he might even have us watched or the Capitol might have cameras in the woods—”

He frowned. “What does he even want from you?”

Katniss exhaled. “To show that what Clove and I did to win wasn't about defying the Capitol," she paused, cleared her throat. "To convince everyone that it was an act of love.”

Something flickered across his face. “And is it?”

She blinked. “Is it what?”

“Love.”

The way he said it — quiet, almost daring — made her stomach twist in confusion. “What are you— Gale, I’m trying to warn you. He won't hesitate to have you killed, he has no use for you, so you need to—”

He stepped closer. Too close.

Katniss faltered, voice thinning out as his hand came up to her cheek. Too big. Wrong. What was he doing?

He stepped even closer. The space between them tightened. She could smell sweat and ash on him.

He leaned in, face dipping toward hers, and for a heartbeat she was frozen—because she didn’t understand. Why would he—?

And then it hit her.

Oh no. Oh no no no. Gale? Her best friend? Did he—did he think he was an option? That he even registered when she had Clove—? That he even dared-

Wait he was still leaning in-

A thunk split the air - metal embedding itself right between them in the wood of the house behind them. The knife still quivered, humming like the relief, pulsing heavy through her body, and her shoulders slumped.

Gale flinched back so hard he nearly tripped over himself. Katniss didn’t have to turn around. Her ears recognized that sound better than her own heartbeat.

Clove. She might have actually laughed until her expression registered. Standing at the mouth of the alley, half in shadow, arms loose at her sides, one knife still spinning lazily between her fingers.

Gale jerked back, color draining. "What the-"

No. She had left Clove behind for five minutes, five minutes, and this is what she found herself in? "I came to warn him," she defended herself, fast. "About Snow. He threatened Gale and his family. It was the right thing to do. Nothing else."

Clove's eyes narrowed flicking to Gale who shifted on his feet, straightening to appear taller and Katniss almost wanted to backhand him in the stomach for daring to posture after this.

"Didn’t look like talking.”

"Because he—” Katniss pointed at Gale, voice rising, “—did that! I didn’t— he just— what even—?”

Gale took a step back. “Katniss—”

"No.” Katniss’ voice cracked sharp. “Don’t you Katniss me. I didn’t ask for this. How did you even get the idea to-, you are my best friend! I came to warn you!"

"You said Snow was worried about me influencing-" Gale spoke up for the first time and Katniss suddenly grew angry.

"And what? You thought I would have died for Clove, with her, brought her home because she didn't mean anything to me?"

Gale opened his mouth to argue but she shot him a look, stepped further away from him and turned to Clove.

The knife in Clove’s hand stilled. Her eyes finally flicked toward Katniss, sharp edges softening by a fraction.

Katniss rubbed her temple. “I swear, Clove, I didn’t think this would happen. You know I didn’t. I’d rather let you burn down the kitchen than—than—” she made a vague face, “get kissed by him.”

Clove’s gaze flicked to her, unreadable. “You’d rather die?”

“Obviously!” Katniss placated, exasperated. “We live together. The time you aren't in my vicinity you are a constant in my mind. I don’t even have room to think about anyone else! You just came at the right time or I would have had to—” she gestured helplessly, “—I would have had to climb on top the nearest house. Or you. Whichever was closer.”

That earned her the faintest twitch of Clove’s mouth.

Katniss scowled, cheeks burning. “Don’t look at me like that. It’s not funny.”

Clove hummed, retrieving her knife from the wall with a twist of her wrist, Gale giving her enough room to do so. “He thought it was the right time, that he had a chance,” she said, almost to herself, even as she gave Gale another withering look. “Bold.” She twirled the knife in her hand.

“Stupid,” Katniss corrected. “Absolutely stupid." Luckily Gale remained silent with Clove so close. "I’m not talking to him alone again. And until he apologizes."

“Good.” Clove stepped closer, brushing past Gale without a word, her presence filling the narrow space like a warning. She stopped just close enough for Katniss to feel the ghost of heat between them. “You done warning him?”

“Yes,” Katniss said quickly. “Very done.”

“Then let’s go home.”

Home. The word curled low and warm in Katniss’ chest, chasing away the last trace of Gale’s stupidity. And hopefully this didn't mean more groveling for her.

Gale gave her a look, almost reaching for her but Katniss shook her head, quickly hurrying after Clove. Whatever Gale thought that was on him. She had tried to warn him. He was on his own for any more dumb decision.

Not her.

And she was not risking another night on the couch.

*

The steady hum of the train itched in her bones, a rhythm that wanted to lull her into calm — but Katniss wasn’t calm. The Capitol’s luxury couldn’t mask the truth: she was trapped again, separated from Prim and home, under the President’s threat.

She paced the length of their room, this new velvet cage for seven long days, while Clove stretched out on the bed, on her stomach, a pen tapping idly against her notepad.

She’d told her everything. About Snow. About the threats.

A snake in their house. His voice still coiled in her ears.

"Old age is probably catching up to him," Clove said offhandedly, her handwriting looping lazily across the page. "No one could’ve watched the Games and thought that."

"Clove!" Katniss hissed, glancing toward the corners of the room, certain there were eyes and ears hidden everywhere. “Don’t say things like that! Do you want him to execute us?"

"He told you it would be too obvious to kill us now. He’s the President of Panem, he has better things to do."

"Do you want to push our luck? He can still cut out our tongues." Katniss swallowed, the image of the redheaded Avox flashing in her mind. That could be Clove or her next. "He threatened us. It doesn’t matter what we believe; it matters what he does. How can you be so calm about this?”

"Be a shame for you to lose your tongue," Clove mused, glancing up from her paper, pen tapping against her lip. "I’ve grown fond of it."

At Katniss’ noncomical look, she added, “Because if the footage of us in the Games didn’t convince him, nothing will.”

Katniss stared. “So that’s just it? We do nothing? No plan? Please tell me you’re using your evil genius and writing down some schemes.”

"Evil genius?"

"You know you are a menace—"

"And this," Clove interrupted, “is my shopping list.”

Katniss stopped pacing. Her stomach swooped. "Your what now?"

"I listed the Districts. We get one day in each and more time in the Capitol. We can buy things we can’t get in Twelve. District One does luxury goods — jewelry. With your victor’s talent, we can look at textiles in Eight, and fashion in the Capitol. And if we can’t skip Two, I at least want to see if we can bring some target dummies home. Maybe steal my favorite knife from the Academy. Oh, and I promised Prim to bring her something.”

“You’re thinking of shopping?” Katniss asked, starting to sweat. Luxury goods did not sound cheap. Maybe Snow didn’t need to kill her, she’d just combust beforehand. “Since when do you even care about jewelry? And we both know my victor’s talent is being handled by Cinna.”

“Yes, but when will we ever get to see the other Districts again?” Clove tilted her head. “And I hoped I could sneak by saying my victor’s talent was being your inspiration. Your model. Your muse.” She winked. “And who knows? I might like having something pretty on my arm. I do with you.”

“You are not helping. And I’m not breaking into any Academy with you.”

Clove scribbled another note. Feeling Katniss’ stare, she rolled her neck and looked up. “What? If it makes you feel better, I can just mount you on every stage in every District, give them a live performance. President Snow can’t say we didn’t aim to convince him then.”

Katniss choked on her own spit while Clove tilted her head, teeth glinting in the low light of the train as she gave a predatory grin.

“You are not serious.”

“Aren’t I?”

Katniss, cheeks burning, held her gaze. When she couldn’t tell if Clove was joking, she made a mental note to talk to Cinna. More layers. More belts. Anything to prevent another stunt like the one in the square back home.

“You are impossible,” she muttered.

Clove hummed, unbothered, the sound like a satisfied cat. “And yet you can’t seem to stay away.”

That wasn’t fair or true but Katniss didn’t correct her. They lived together. And Clove had been the one to follow her home. Not the other way around.

“Take a breath. Overthinking won’t help.” Clove shifted upright, legs hanging off the bed, catching Katniss’ wrist and tugging her closer until she stood between her knees. “We just need to get through this tour,” she continued softly. “Then we’ll have the rest of our lives to live in peace. Together.”

Peace. The word sounded like fiction.

Katniss exhaled, her free hand cupping Clove’s cheek. “You really think that?”

“With the Quarter Quell coming, they’ll be distracted. We’ll be old news by then.” Clove leaned into her touch, her voice quiet, steady. “He’ll forget about us.”

Katniss wanted to believe her. Wanted to believe in the calm Clove spoke of, like she could will it into being.

She tried to imagine it — home, Prim safe, Clove beside her, no more cameras. Maybe even a trinket from a District to bring back. Something for Prim’s shelf, something that didn’t taste like fear.

“I wish we could’ve brought Prim,” she murmured. “After what Snow said, I just… I want her close.”

Clove’s hand tightened around hers. “I would’ve liked that too. We could’ve seen Panem together.”

Katniss’ eyes caught their reflection in the darkened window, entangled together even now, under threat even now. The train thundered through the night, steel singing against steel.

Clove leaned her chin against Katniss’ abdomen, smirking up at her. “You’re thinking too much again.”

“Someone has to.”

“Not tonight.” Clove tugged lightly until Katniss bent down, her voice a quiet promise. “We made it out once. Whatever happens we’ll manage.”

Clove kissed her, and Katniss hummed, melting against her as a tongue licked into her mouth, giving a teasing flick against her teeth before sliding against her own. Katniss pressed closer, letting herself get lost in Clove.

Outside, the dark rolled on endless, unknowable.

Katniss wished she could believe her.

And yet, somewhere deep in her chest, she already knew peace wasn’t coming. Not for them. Not with the scent of blood and roses still caught in her lungs, not when the Quarter Quell meant the Capitol would strike back with something truly heinous against the Districts once more. Not when she and Clove would have to mentor and watch others in the same situation they barely survived.

But Clove was with her. They’d made it out once. Perhaps this would just blow over and Clove was right, perhaps they would be granted peace and a live together. Or maybe peace was a dream. But if she could wake to Clove beside her, Katniss decided, that would be enough.