The Hunger Games: sparks of a revolution

by Kestis_21

Summary:

In the seventy-fifth year of the Hunger Games, the inevitable Quarter Quell is to be commemorated. Victors will be reaped back into the chaos, and new tributes will join them in the turmoil of the games.

As the spark of rebellion ignites in the background, and an old disease returns to haunt the Capitol. New friendships will be forged, sides chosen, and the fate of the mockingjay will be determined by allies and foes.

Welcome to the third Quarter Quell, welcome to the revolution, welcome to the seventy-fifth Hunger Games!

Chapter 1: The 75th Hunger games.

Notes:

This fic is mostly written already so I'll be updating it in the next few days.

Just an idea I got because of Haymitch's book being announced and because I remembered how fire the war song of THG is.

Click, clack, click, clack, the sound of their footsteps echoed against the tiled flooring of the luxurious halls of the presidential palace. Janson and Ava Paige walked side by side as they followed the guard and made their way to the gardens where their host awaited them.

Once outside, Janson helped Ava down the last step of the stairs that led to the gardens, their shoes crushing the green grass that extended through kilometers of ostentatious artificial life that the president loved to cultivate. The guard urged them to move faster, to which Janson wanted to scoff, but he kept his mouth shut. The walk to where President Snow was was brief from there on; the two found him, as always, tending to his roses as if they were his children.

    "Janson and Ava, president Snow," the guard announced.
    Snow motioned with his hand over his shoulder at the guard, "leave us."

The guard vowed and left in seconds. Instead of turning around and greet them, Snow kept his focus on his roses, cutting the imperfections he found like he cuts the rebels from the streets that try go against his will.

    "What have you two found?" Snow asked without turning.
    Ava and Janson shared a glance, Ava was the one to answer, "We confirmed it, sir. It's the Flare."

Snow exhaled. Finally Turning around he walked to the table and placed the gardening scissors down before he took a seat. Crossing his leg over, he stuck his chin up and regarded both with a cold stare.

    "I thought it got exterminated during the war," Snow said meticulously.
    Janson reached for a paper inside his suit that he placed in front of him, "it almost dissapeared, but there is no doubt that it's the Flare."

Snow barely looked down at the paper before he fixed them both with a glare.

    Janson felt the need to add more, "It's mostly in people outside of the Districts, but-"
    "Then how may I have gotten it? I'll assume you don't believe I have the time to prance around in that area, do you? Assistant director?" Snow uttered.
    "No, of course not, sir. Maybe... maybe someone under your care has it?" Janson reasoned.
    "Is there-" Snow's speech got cut off as the need to cough overpowered him.

Snow covered his mouth with his handkerchief. When he brought it down, Janson could see the faint trace of blood that looked too dark and murky to be normal before Snow hid it in his fist.

    "The cure. What is the cure?" He urged.
    "There is no confirmed cure, president," Ava said as a matter of fact.
    Snow snickered, "So you two came all the way over here to tell me I'm going to die? Is that it? All these months I gave you and that's your best answer? Miss Ava? Mr. Janson?"
    Janson cleared his throat to get his attention, "not necessarily." Procuring a vial, he presented it to him, "We think we have a cure."

Snow picked the vial with the blue looking liquid that could be his salvation. The need to drink it was strong, but he wasn't about to be some test subject. There were people that could show their use that way.

    "Think?" He questioned.
    "We tested it on a couple of people from the wild that appeared to be infected..."Janson explained.
    "For the most part it works, but if the disease is too advanced..." Ava added.
    "So you don't know if it will work on me? Is what you're saying," Snow said spinning the vial around his fingers. "I assume that's not all, right?"

Janson looked at Ava, she nodded and Janson understood immediately to proceed with their plan.

    "We think we have perfect it," Janson said. "But we need to test it. For real."
    Ava added more next, "The Flare advances faster if you're under stress. If we can monitor subjects under situations of stress where their responses are genuine..."
    "You two can find me a cure?" Snow said, his lips forming into a smile, "my confidence in you two was not misplaced it seems."

Snow stood up and went to the closest bush. He cut a rose and, rounding the table, got closer to Janson and Ava. He regarded the rose in his fingers.

    "Then what do you propose, Miss Paige?" Snow asked.
    "The games, sir. We infect some of them with the virus, we let it grow-"
    "And then you test your cure on them," Snow finished for her. "I see. However, that would be a stain on the history of the games. An insult to its meaning. Don't you two think?"
    "With all due respect, President," Janson said. "I think we can see it as an added... challenge for the tributes."
    Ava nodded, "If they die, we still get more information and the Capitol gets its entertainment. But if they survive, we know it's safe to use on you, sir."

Snow nodded. He offered Ava the rose. With a bit of hesitation, she reached for it, her delicate fingers closing on the safe parts.

    "Can you infect anyone?" Snow asked.
    "As long as we make them come into contact with the virus," Janson answered.
    "Is this about... someone in specific, sir?" Ava was brave enough to ask.

It's about her. It has all been just her recently. Snow is playing the same game he has been playing for years. Control, he needs to get Katniss and her little act of rebellion under control, or else the Districts will follow in her footsteps and chaos will be unraveled again.

    "That will depend on how things develop. Use as many of the tributes as your test subjects, but keep one virus reserved," Snow uttered in a low, groggy voice, "if Miss Everdeen fails to play her part... at least she will play her part in my cure."

Janson and Ava understood immediately. They excused themselves in hopes to star preparing everything for the upcoming games. They were almost out of sigh when the president called for them one last time.

    "Just a small reminder before you go," Snow said. "You're going to intervene in my games. I want results, if that's the case. Otherwise... I'll find someone who can give them to me."

Both Ava and Janson nodded curtly, they turned on their heels and walked out of there before the president could change his mind.

---

District 11:

Thomas wiped his forehead with the back of his arm. Despite the cap over his head, the sun was doing wonders to make him drip droplets of sweat everywhere as he worked in the fields. He had applied the fertilizer to most of the crops but he still had a good acre to cover.

He stood up, and placing his hands on his waist, he took a breath as he looked around. Peacekeepers were everywhere. There wasn't a single day they were not under their vigilance to prevent anyone from stealing any food, as if sparing a bit of their crops would suddenly starve the Capitol and its people.

As if on cue, Thomas's stomach grumbled. He hadn't had breakfast that day or dinner the previous day due to the few rations they were given.

Closing his eyes, he tried to combat the hunger. It was a miracle he wasn't dead by now, considering that his stomach acted as if it wanted to eat itself. Thomas opened his eyes, his gaze falling on a grape; he could practically taste it. They were still not ripe, but he couldn't care less. Even if the flavor was bitter, it was better than trying to appease his hunger with just his saliva.

He looked to the side. Just one peacekeeper was looking at him and his other coworkers. Stepping farther down the path, Thomas continued applying the fertilizer, taking a few glances back at the guard to make sure he was safe.

Crouching close to one of the vines, Thomas took his sweet time applying the fertilizer. He waited and waited. When the guard turned his head to check on one of his coworkers, Thomas quickly pulled some of the grapes from the vine and shoved them into his pocket.

    "Hey!" one of the peacekeepers shouted.

Thomas froze. His heart suddenly felt trapped in his throat. He could hear the sound of the boots scraping against the floor and the clanking of the peacekeeper's armor and weapon as he advanced towards his victim.

Did he see me? Am I going to get whipped? Thomas thought as his mind panicked. He closed his eyes, already picturing the burn of the whip against his skin as he once had when he was younger. He expected to feel the Peacekeeper's hand around his bicep at any moment, but it never happened. Opening one eye, Thomas stole a glance in the direction of the shout.

   "No, please. I didn't steal anything, stop," a girl shouted. "Someone, please. Help!"

Thomas averted his gaze; he wished he could help. He was tired of seeing people being dragged away because the peacekeepers thought they saw something. Sometimes he thought they did it just to remind them what happened if you tried to take the precious food meant for the capitol. He was sick of this, but what could he do? He was malnourished, hardly had any fighting experience, and could barely compete with one of the guards if things went south. He would get his ass dragged away with the girl.

Ignoring the shouting, Thomas turned his attention instead to his reward. He quickly shoved the grape inside his mouth, biting down on it, he felt the pop of the fruit as it was squashed in his mouth. The bitter flavor of the juice tasted so heavenly to him. He chewed and chewed on it until the fruit turned into mush and then swallowed. He wanted more; it wasn't enough to make his stomach quiet, but he could save it for his family.

Taking a deep breath, Thomas readjusted his cap and went back to work. He still had fertilizer to apply, and that was the only thing that would keep his mind away from the screams that he was  sure he would hear in the distance soon.

---

  
Thomas was on his way back from work after spending almost all day looking over his shoulder to make sure no one had noticed the missing grapes. He was starting to become paranoid.

His hands inside his pockets played with the food as he walked, rolling the grapes around his fingers while he resisted the urge to grab another one to eat it. Fortunately for him, he slowly started to notice that people were gathering around, and that distracted him from his still almost empty stomach.

Up ahead, a sea of people had formed. Thomas let his feet carry him toward them until he was standing all the way at the back. His interest increased when he saw what all the commotion was about. Up on the stage, the winners of the seventy-fourth Hunger Games, Katniss and Peeta, were about to give a speech. Thomas remembered her. He remembered the weird sense of joy that coursed through his body when he saw the two win.

    "Excuse me," Thomas said as he pushed people away to get closer. "Sorry, someone saved me a spot."

He lied until he made his way to almost the front, where he had a better view of Katniss. Thomas didn't know why, but he expected to see someone revitalized, full of joy and confident. Maybe it was because she was a victor now, but Katniss looked to be the opposite. She looked defeated, sleep-deprived, and appeared to be almost as miserable as he felt some days. He still awaited hearing what she had to say.

Katniss took her time, making Thomas bounce his leg in desperation since he was never good at waiting. He was about to leave when he saw her look up at something and then, finally, come closer to the mic.

    "I wish I could say I knew Thresh, but I didn’t," she spoke with a sadness that Thomas wasn't expecting from a Victor. "I only spoke with him once. He could have killed me, but instead, he showed me mercy."

Thomas knew Thresh. Not to the point where he would consider him a close friend, but the two helped each other out. He was, however, closer to Rue.

    "I did know Rue. She wasn't just my ally; she was my friend."

That did sound like sweet little Rue. Thomas had met her one day as he tried to run away from the scorching sun under the shade of a tree. The mention of her name still made him tear up a bit. The kid had adopted Thomas as a sort of friend that she liked to both bother and talk to. She also loved to sing, and Thomas loved hearing her. On rare occasion, he would sing for her despite his terrible tone while she napped near him.

    "I see her... in the flowers that grow in the meadow by my house. I hear her in the mockingjay's song," Katniss said, her voice breaking at the next part. "I see her in my sister, Prim. Who is too young, too gentle. And I couldn't save her. I'm sorry."

Thomas felt his throat closing and a tear running down his cheek. He didn't know when he had started crying, but he supposed that for such a moving speech about little Rue, it was expected to happen.

From somewhere behind him, someone whistled the tune Thomas had heard dozens of times from Rue's mouth. She used to be the first to let everyone know when the workday was over by using those same four notes.

All around him, his fellow people of District Eleven raised their hands with three fingers up. Thomas looked around him, wondering what they were all doing. That would only anger the Peacekeepers, Thomas thought. In his frantic search, he found one other soul who, like him, hesitated to join. Teresa Agnes, one of the few previous victors of his district, kept her eyes trained forward. Thomas didn't have to look to know that it was directed at Katniss.

    "No! Leave him alone!" Katniss called desperately.

Thomas's attention went back to the Peacekeepers. The guards had broken through the crowd and were now dragging someone to the front as two of them pushed Katniss and Peeta away from the stage.

They were replaced by an old man. An old man Thomas knew well. He was the one who had shown Thomas how to work the fields, how to tend to them, when he should keep his head down, and how he should talk to the Peacekeepers to avoid getting in trouble.

Old man Omari, whom he affectionately once called "Gramps" because he didn't have a grandpa of his own and he was the closest to one he had ever had, was now on his knees. On the stage, with a gun to the back of his head.

Thomas didn't register the bullet going through his skull until he fell to the floor. The blood oozed out of the wound as his lifeless eyes stared back at Thomas. The same eyes that once crinkled as he told him jokes, the same eyes that were so full of life and kindness despite his age.

Time stopped. Everything around him seemed to go into slow motion. Thomas stared back at him as the keepers secured their hands around his arms to lift him and dispose of his body as if it was a rag doll, as if he had never been human. Thomas clenched his jaw; suddenly, the need to beat the living daylights out of the peacekeepers was all he could think of, and he would have done it if he hadn't locked eyes with Teresa.

By some coincidence of fate, he chose to look to the side and found piercing blue eyes staring at him. Lifeless, like Omari's now, but hers were more so due to the horrors of the games she had survived. Teresa shook her head slightly, her eyebrows coming down in a small frown that turned her empty eyes into worried ones.

The message was clear: don't try it. As much as Thomas wanted her to be wrong, as much as he wished he could—for once—have the power to fight back, he knew she was right, and he hated that she was.

---

Just like that, the days passed in a daze for Thomas. He went from work to home, trying to avoid the rising tension since Omari's execution. He had heard people talk about the unfairness of the Capitol, and he wasn't sure if he had imagined it when someone mentioned rebelling. But he chose to ignore all of that in favor of his bed, where he tried to sleep. However, every time he closed his eyes, he could only picture old Omari, dead.

Perhaps there were better ways to find a solution for that, what did Thomas do in the end? Turn on the TV. Thomas snuck down to the living room, where they had their only TV, and watched hours of interviews with none other than Katniss.

She's the sensation, she's the moment. The recent victors are apparently planning a wedding now. Thomas chuckled when he saw the proposal. Perhaps it was him, but he thought it looked so fake. Many seemed to think the contrary, but there was something in the way Katniss behaved that looked so staged to him. He wondered if she was truly happy. Maybe Katniss was just pretending and was just as dead inside as Teresa was. Who wouldn't be? He sure as hell wouldn't be able to smile if he had been forced to see little Rue die.

Even so, Thomas turns to Katniss and her impending marriage as a distraction for those nights when he can't sleep.

It's sort of fun, he has to admit. He's even excited about the dresses they will show so people can vote. When the day comes, he finds himself on time, looking at the same screen with all the pretty dresses he's supposed to like for her.

    "Nah, next," he whispers to himself as they show one of the options.

Thomas is about to judge the next one when the broadcast is interrupted by a special announcement. President Snow is now the one on the screen. His perfectly tailored suit, combed hair, and beard make him look so punchable in Thomas's humble opinion.

    "Ladies and gentlemen. This is the seventy—fifth year of the hunger games," Snow announced.

The crowd cheers while Thomas awaits to hear this year's bullshit that will force people to kill each other.

    Unbeknownst of Thomas's fury, Snow continued, "It was written in the chart of the games, that every twenty five years there would be a quarter quell."

He had heard of that special ruel. Thomas had read and seen some of the previous quarter quells. His skin shivered just remembering the details.

    "On this seventy-fifth anniversary, we celebrate the defeat of the rebellion..."

Snow lifted a card on his hand, his eyes went down to it as his lips let everyone know what was written in it.

    "As a reminder to the rebels that even the strongest among them cannot overcome the power of the Capitol, one of the male or female tributes will be reaped from their existing pool of victors..."

That only meant that now Teresa could be summoned again to participate in the Games. What kind of monster is he? He can't put them through that again, Thomas cursed.

    "... And as a lesson in history, that unity will never be enough against the might of the Capitol. The tributes will be mixed among themselves and made to fight their fellow District companions."

Snow wasn't only planning on reaping the old winners; he was also going to force them to interact with other Districts and hope they wouldn't want to kill each other. To Thomas, the entire plan sounded like bloodshed. Bloodshed, that is truly the spirit of the Hunger Games, Thomas sadly reasoned.

---

With no other option and no real way to protest, the day of the reaping came. Thomas found himself standing beside his family as the announcer in front of the microphone prepared to say who was chosen. Three glass reaping balls awaited; one to her left and two to her right.

    "Morning, my fellow District Eleven. As you know, we are celebrating our third Quarter Quell," she clapped fast and enthusiastically. "Therefore, this time we have one side with the new names and one with the old victors."

It was a joke. Thomas thought it was laughable how two of them were full of papers while the other one barely showed any.

    "First, the victors!" she said.

She stuck her hand inside the ball, comically mixing the few papers for District Eleven as if they didn't know the options were limited and only waiting to know who was the unfortunate soul that would have to relive everything again.

    "As part of the victors..." she unfolded the paper and gasped, "Teresa Agnes. A round of applause, please."

She was the only one to clap. Thomas found Teresa a few rows ahead to his right. With arms crossed, she sighed and walked to the stage without much of a protest. Thomas felt the strange need to comfort her despite not having interacted with her a lot before.

    "Since our old Victor is a girl, we will now use the boys' reaping ball to choose the other tribute," the announcer explained.

She stuck her hand inside. This time, the tension was palpable as everyone waited to know who would be chosen among the men. Thomas watched her hands unfold the paper painfully slowly, and her eyes read the words even slower. Though he would soon learn that he should have appreciated those few moments of blissful ignorance.

    "Thomas Edison!" she announced.

It was him. Thomas was the other tribute. His anger and boredom were replaced with existential dread as the realization that he would now have to fight for his life sank in. Thomas was the other tribute. He would be shoved into the arena with a bunch of other people where he would have to fight for his life.

He wanted to plead for help. He almost hoped someone would offer to go in his place, but who would do such a thing? With a dry mouth and a body that moved partially on its own and partially due to the help of the peacekeeper that pushed him, Thomas walked all the way to the stage as his family cried after him. he moved until he stood beside Teresa for a second. Breathing, focusing on nothing but breathing because processing anything else right now would make his knees buckle and fail to keep him standing.

His hand was lifted as he was announced to be the tribute to his district. He looked to his side once more. Doe brown eyes found piercing blue ones, but instead of emptiness, Thomas found compassion in Teresas's gaze.

Notes:

For those who where waiting for my other fics, I'll continue them soon. Just need to get this brain rot out of the way.

Hope you enjoyed and Happy Hunger Games :D

Chapter 2: The Capitol.

Notes:

I'll give you two chapters and I hope it's to someone's liking.

There was no time to say goodbye, no departing hugs from his ma or pa. Thomas was shoved inside the train with Teresa and sent straight to the capitol without another word.

The two of them sat at opposite ends of the train. She was calm and collected while Thomas was on the verge of a mental breakdown. He wasn't built to kill; he didn't even know if he had it in him to kill someone. Yet here he was, about to fight for his life and be forced to take someone else's in order to survive.

    "You're Thomas, right?" Teresa asked him out of the blue.

Lifting his head from his hands, Thomas found her looking at him and awaiting his answer.

    "Yes, that's me," Thomas uttered, his voice sounding far away to his own ears.
    "How are you holding up?" Teresa asked.

How am I holding up? Thomas repeated the words to himself in an attempt to process them. I want to cry, I want to scream and get off this train. Those were his real thoughts, but he was never good at expressing them, nor did he know if he wanted to express them. After all, he barely knew her.

    "I'm good. Never been better," he said with a sad smile.

If Teresa thought that he was lying, she didn't say it. The previous victor crossed her legs and took a calming breath. Turning her attention to the side, she spoke without looking at Thomas first.

    "We will soon reach the capitol," She now turned to look at Thomas. "Listen to me. If there is a rule that you need to know, it's that you can't trust anybody, Thomas."

Thomas didn't know why she was telling him that. However, she had won the games before, so it was in his best interest to at least take the advice. Though he felt strange that she suddenly seemed to care.

    Thomas nodded, but went on to say: "Does that include you?"
    "Yes," Teresa said immediately.

There was no hesitation in her words, no pause or malice behind them either. Teresa was stating a fact, one Thomas had tried to process before, but refused to accept yet.

If things came to it, he might find himself having to kill Teresa in order to return home.

    "Why tell me then? You could keep me in the dark and just dispose of me whenever you want," Thomas asked.
    Teresa uncrossed her legs, pushed herself closer to the edge, and leaned her elbows on her thighs. "If I can be honest... I don't know. Maybe I want you to have a bit more of a chance than I had on my first time."

She straightened her back and went to look out of the window. Those were the last words Thomas exchanged with her as they made their way to the capitol. He wanted to ask her more, to maybe gain some of her wisdom for what was about to come, but she was clearly dealing with her own issues and Thomas didn't have the courage or the means to distract her from them.

---

The train came to a stop, and Thomas got down while his body still felt as if it was moving on autopilot. So many thoughts and so much was happening that he still refused to believe any of it. He followed Teresa until they were gathered in a lobby with the rest of the tributes. That's when Thomas snapped back to reality.

He could recognize some of them. Mainly the previous winners of the games. Though he was surprised by the fact that some of the districts sent only victors.

There were Finnick and Mags, then Katniss and Peeta, which he supposed was to be expected since they were engaged and he doubted one would let the other go alone. Winston was also there, as was Alby. It was a bit ironic since Winston won the games the year after Alby's. Johanna was also there. He made a mental note to avoid her and hope someone else would kill her. Finally, his eyes found two more victors he recognized: Harriet, who had won by hunting down most of the tributes, and Newt, the winner of the sixty-ninth Hunger Games and one of the youngest victors after Finnick, having managed to win at the young age of twelve.

   "Welcome to the Capitol. My name is Ava Paige," a woman at the bottom of the stairs said. "I'm one of the Gamemakers and the person in charge of telling you about your new companions for the Games."

Thomas had almost forgotten about the second stupid rule Snow had implemented. Who would he end up with, and how could he go and trust them right off the bat if they had never even met before?

    "The new pairs are: from District one, Aris, you are to switch with Alby," Ava instructed.

Thomas saw the guy call Aris, that didn't quiet looked to be from district one considering how scrawny he looked compared to Alby, take one last glance at his partner before switching places with him.

    "Finnick Odair, you will switch with Beetee," Ava said Next. "Peeta Melark... you will switch with Chuck."

There was barely a pause between Ava's instructions, but no one could deny that she gave Peeta and Katniss a bit of more time to come to terms with their separation and Thomas thought that it was to be expected. After all, they were the latest winners and the hot topic of the moment around the capitol.

Ava went through the rest of the names, Thomas looked around and waited impatiently to know whit who sociopath he will be sharing his time before he's sent into the arena. It took a while, but he finally heard his name.

    "From District 11... Thomas Edison, you will switch places with Sonya Elizabeth," Ava informed.

Thomas looked at the last girl that had to switch with him. Sonya found his gaze, and was the first to move. It took a moment, but Thomas followed her example. Feeling his heart rate spike as he got closer to his new companion. Newt barely looked in his direction before he turned his attention back at Ava.

Now standing beside him, Thomas had a better view of the winner of the sixty-ninth Hunger Games. He was taller than Thomas, with some muscles on him but still managing to look relatively lean. His hair was fluffy and shone golden, unlike Thomas's, which he thought was thin and dull. He had color in his cheeks and was the image of health that Thomas wished he could be.

    "That will be all. Your new partners will now be shown with you in the upcoming games and interviews just like in the screen," Ava uttered as she pointed at a tabloid on a screen above her head.

Thomas followed the direction she signaled, finding the next list now written for the whole capitol to see:

Tributes:

District 1 & 5: Aris and Minho
District 1 & 5: Rachel and Alby
District 2 & 7: Harriet and Gally
District 2 & 7: Zart and Johanna
District 3 & 4: Beetee and Mags
District 3 & 4: Wiress and Finnick
District 6 & 12: Chuck and Katniss
District 6 & 12: Trish and Peeta
District 8 & 10: Ben and Winston
District 8 &10: Cecelia and Frypan
District 9 &11: Newt and Thomas
District 9 & 11: Sonya and Teresa.

    "You may now go to your room. Rest, eat and prepare for the parade and training where you will meet the rest of the Gamemakers," Ava smiled and spun around to leave with the guards in tow.

All the tributes looked at one another, now in an awkward situation where they have to interact with complete strangers. Thomas remembered Teresa's words, but he figured not trusting everyone didn't mean he couldn't at least make some temporary allies. Some of the previous winners had survived that way.

Taking his cap off, because he suddenly felt that it was disrespectful to have one while he was presenting himself, Thomas quickly fixed his hair and extended his hand to Newt.

    "I'm, uh, Thomas," he said as he licked his lips that refused to stop being dry.

Newt acknowledge him this time. The tribute of District nine did a quick swoop of Thomas with his eyes, effectively making him feel smaller than before, but the warm smile that followed made Thomas reconsider his perspective of Newt.

    "Name is Newt," he said as he shook Thomas's hand.

Right, and now what? Thomas hadn't planned farther from introducing himself. What is he supposed to say or do now? Hey, so wanna plan how we will murder the rest? He thought, maybe discuss it over tea where I plea you not to kill Teresa if we cross her, because even if I don't know her that much it still feels wrong.

    "Are you alright?" Newt said as he waved his hand in front of his eyes.
    "Uh. Yes, sorry, what where you saying?" Thomas responded, shaking his head to get out of his inner turmoil.
    Newt pointed with his thumb over his shoulder, "that maybe we should go to our room. Get some rest."
    "Right, and... do we... do we go to mine or..."
    Newt hummed, "Good question." Newt directed his words to one of the staff next, "Hey, how do we know what room to go to if you idiots mixed us?"

Thomas wanted to clasp his hand around Newt's mouth. He was going to get him executed with that behaviour. It didn't seemed to bother the people of the Capitol though.

    "Arrangements for your stay have already been dealt with. Please, go to the reception and your key and floor will be assigned," one of the assistants explained while pointing at the counter of the hotel they were in.

Newt was the first of the tributes to move, Thomas stupidly followed him around because now without Teresa, he was the closest thing to an ally he could have, even if it was a forced one.

The girl in the reception gave them their key, and explained to them that District's nine room would be theirs while Sonya will have to share District's Eleven room with Teresa. Newt thanked her and grabbed the key without much of another word. Heading straight to the elevator.

Thomas stood beside him after he pressed the button for their floor while Newt leaned back against the glass. The door was about to close but a pair of fingers caught it and pushed it opened again.

Finnick stepped inside, pressed the button to his floor and stood to the side, smug grin and hands on his back as he inspected the duo.

    "Can I help you Odair?" Newt finally said when the elevator started to go up.
    "I heard you volunteer to come here," Finnick said. "Odd, I thought you would let any of the others come."
    Newt pressed his lips into a thin line and looked at the rising numbers in the screen of the elevator, "Yeah, well. Maybe I have a death wish."

Newt said it so nonchalantly that Thomas almost let it slide as any other comment. Almost.

    Finnick snickered, "Funny." Finnick eyes fell on Thomas who suddenly was very aware of how he looked, "Thomas, wasn't it?"

Thomas twisted his hat between his hands, gripping the material to calm himself a bit under the pressure of Finnick's stare.

    "Uh," he looked at Newt for help and found non. "Yeah, I'm Thomas," he offered him his hand. "Nice to meet ya."

Finnick looked down at the extended offer of friendship. Thomas did much the same and saw that his hand was sweating and looked dirty. He was about to clean it quickly in his pants when Finnick shook it. Getting close to him and making Thomas blush from being so close to someone like him.

    "Nice to meet you too. Sugar cube?" Finnick offered.

As if out of thin air, Thomas now had a sugar cube close to his face. The proximity made him cross his eyes a little bit, but he focused them after a moment and slowly accepted the treat from the heartthrob tribute.

The elevator reached the first stop just as Newt grabbed the cube and threw it back at Finnick who caught it without loosing the smile.

    "This is my stop," Finnick said as he started to walk backwards. "Don't get lost Newt. I still have a few questions  for the youngest winner."
    Newt rolled his eyes, "if you don't die from a diabetic coma from those cubes, I'll be here."

The doors closed, and the entire time Finnick stood there. Same smug smile, same knowing eyes. He was very intense but in a charming way that could only be seen by Thomas as walking a fine line between annoying and lovely. No wonders the capitol adores him. He's an endless box of entertainment.

---

The ride up was silent again. Thomas wanted to ask Newt a bunch of questions; however, he felt that that could only lead to him murdering him before the games to spare himself the troubles of dealing with his curiosity. His mom had told him he never knew when to shut up or quell his inquisitiveness. So Thomas did the next best thing: steal glances at Newt and hope that he would be the first to start the conversation. He looked at him once and then back at the rising numbers, a second time and then back at the numbers, a third time, and this time around Newt sighed.

    "Is there something you want to say, Thomas?" Newt asked.
    "What was that?" Thomas answered.
    Newt frowned. "With Finnick?"
    "Yes."
    Newt shrugged, "Hell if I know. The guy is..."
    "Weird?" Thomas supplied.
    "Eh, I was going to say eccentric, but that too."

Thomas tapped his foot nervously. He saw that they were almost at their floor. He was oddly excited to see where he would be staying.

    "Do you know him well?" Thomas asked next.
    "Not really. I talked to him briefly back at a party in the capitol like... once," Newt said as he looked up while reminiscing about the memory.
    "Oh. I thought that—"
    "We were friends? Old pals?" Newt said. "No. I respect the bloke. He has a lot of skills, and you better not underestimate him. But he's, as you said, weird."

Thomas silently agreed just in time before they reached the floor. Newt motioned for him to go first, and Thomas took it only to wait for Newt since he didn't have the card, and in his rush, he had forgotten the number of his room.

    "Did he do that with you?" Thomas asked as he tried to keep his pace with Newt's long legs.
    "The cube thing? Yeah, I think it's a sort of icebreaker he does. Either that or he enjoys talking about the compact bombs of sugar he loves to eat," Newt responded.

They finally reached their suite. Both boys stepped inside, only to find someone already waiting for them. The woman in the chair tucked her dark hair behind her ear as she furiously texted something on her phone. She was pretty; that's the first thing he thought. She wasn't overly dressed nor did she have the many layers of makeup most people in the capitol seemed to sport. Maybe that's why Thomas found her pretty. She wasn't pretending to be something extravagant. What she was was blissfully oblivious to the two people waiting for an explanation. That is until Newt cleared his throat.

    "Huh, oh, you two are finally here," she said, placing her phone on the table and stepping closer to them.
    "Yes... and you are?" Thomas asked, a bit done with all the new people he seemed to have met in just one day.
    "Your mentor," she said matter-of-factly. "I'm Brenda, and you're Newt and Thomas. Correct?"

Another weird glance. It looked like he and Newt had shared a lot of those today. Part of Thomas was glad that even someone who had gone through this already could see how odd it could be.

    "Yes," Newt supplied for the two of them.
    "Good. We need to talk strategy before you two go to training, but before that..." she quickly took in the appearance of Newt and Thomas, "Why don't you go take a bath? I think you need it."

Thomas looked down at himself. He might not have the most expensive clothes, but at least he kept himself clean. Brenda didn't seem to believe it, but he would gladly argue with her over that.
   
    "No offense," she quickly added after Thomas said nothing.
    Newt patted his arm, giving him a half smile. "Just do as she says. It could help you relax."

Brenda clasped her hands at Newt's approval. She shoved some clothes and a towel she had procured from God knows where into his hands and pushed Thomas in the direction of the bathroom.

    "Don't take too long," she said before closing the door behind her.

Thomas stared at the white door of the bathroom, blinking several times to really drive home that this was his new reality now. Pursing his lips, he guessed that he should do as Newt and Brenda said.

He placed the clothes and towel on top of the toilet lid. Taking his shirt off, he threw it on the floor, going for his pants next until he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror.

His ribs poked slightly from his skin, his hip bones and clavicle looked prominent, and despite having some muscles on him due to all the work in the fields, Thomas thought that he was far from being able to fight someone like Finnick. He doesn't know how he will survive or if he even has a chance to do so.

"Don't trust anyone," the words of Teresa came back to him. He should follow her advice, but what was the point if she also said not to trust her? If he was being honest with himself, he didn't have a reason not to trust Newt and Brenda—at least for now, at least for as long as it might keep him alive to see another day.

Notes:

See you guys tomorrow.

Chapter 3: Training & Parades.

The bath did relax Thomas. The warm water was far cleaner than the one back at the District, and the clothes he was given by Brenda were soft and smelled like flowers. He might have sniffed them a couple of times because the smell reminded him of the fields back home.

Thinking of his district got Thomas wondering how was Teresa doing. She was obviously more prepared than him, but that didn't mean she couldn't be afraid. Would she be fine by herself? Was she getting along with her new teammate? He couldn’t know, but that didn't stop him from worrying.

---

Now, changed, refreshed by the shower, and back with his team, Thomas had a new dilemma: he should be paying attention to Brenda, but the plate of food set in front of him was far more interesting than anything she was yapping about. Thomas licked his lips for the tenth time, swallowing the excess of saliva that flooded his mouth.

    "Thomas, what about you?" Brenda asked him out of nowhere.
    Thomas blinked in confusion at her, "Sorry, what?"
    "I asked: what are you good at? What are your talents?" Brenda said calmly.

Do I have talents? Thomas had never pondered such things. What is even a good talent for the games? He thought as he racked his brain for an answer.

The memory of wind sweeping his hair back and his legs burning as he outran his friends back in the District when he was little came to mind. Now that he thought about it, Thresh was there. They used to play thieves and cops all the time. Just for fun, just because they were kids.

    "I... run pretty fast?" He said, hoping that was good enough to make him useful.

Brenda stared at him for a solid minute, nodded, clicked her pen a couple of times, and then wrote something down on her notepad. Thomas felt that he had failed her somehow. He looked down in shame at the plate of food and successfully made his stomach complain at the mere sight of it.

    "Not everyone is a Career. His stamina could be an advantage in the beginning when we are near the cornucopia," Newt proposed.
    "I suppose that's true, but besides securing weapons and what happens in the arena, we have to worry about something more important," Brenda said.

Brenda looked from Thomas to Newt as if waiting for them to add to the conversation. Unfortunately for her, Newt remained silent, and Thomas was still more interested in the plate of food that was getting cold.

    "The sponsors!" She said finally. "If we don't sell your image to the people of the Capitol, your chances are reduced to almost zero."

Sell his image. What am I supposed to sell? My malnourished ass would hardly be noticed with all the other tributes here, Thomas thought.  But besides his own image, there was something that was bothering him just now. A small question that had just formed in his mind now that Brenda had started talking about sponsors and chances of survival. It felt like a bitter joke to him.

    "Why do you care?" Thomas asked out of the blue.
    "I'm your mentor, Thomas," Brenda said as if that fixed it.
    "So?" he answered. "I can understand Newt. He's a victor, but me? Why do you care about a kid from District Eleven?"

Thomas couldn't comprehend where this rage was coming from. Maybe it was that he was finally catching up to the reality of his situation. Or maybe he had just suddenly realized that Brenda must have her own agenda, like the rest of the people. One way or another, he took the opportunity to get some things off his chest.

    "What's the point of this anyway? Even if by some miracle I survive, what? Is he going to stop and not kill me next?" Thomas said, pointing at Newt.
    Newt tried to reason with him. "Thomas-"
    "Has that thought not crossed your mind?" Thomas asked him. "Would you even regret it? Would you even care?"

Newt closing his mouth was all the answer he needed. Of course he wouldn't. He wouldn't be here if he had the heart to spare people. That's the one luxury you can't take back with you from the arena. Your empathy.

    Brenda cleared her throat, making Thomas look at her again, "I think we can discuss this once you've eaten."

Thomas's stomach agreed with her. He felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment, but he kept a serious expression to not look like a complete fool.

    "I know it's hard to believe," Brenda said as she stood up. "But I do care, Thomas. Eat your food. We have to go to training later."

Brenda closed her notepad and left them alone. Thomas chewed on the inside of his bottom lip. He wanted to believe that the pitch of sadness in her voice was genuine, but it was hard to do so when he found himself in a situation where he was nothing more than a puppet for entertainment. He felt quite hopeless.

    "She's right," Newt said. "Eat a little. Calm down, and you'll see that we are only trying to help."

Thomas looked down at the food. He was quite hungry. Picking up the cutlery, he cut a piece of meat from the ribs and brought it to his mouth. The meat was so tender that it dissolved in his mouth, spreading the sweet, tangy, and slightly spicy flavor across his tongue. Thomas swallowed. He cut another piece and immediately shoved it inside. It was so rich and delicious that he discarded the fork and knife and grabbed the ribs with his bare hands.

Thomas sank his teeth in and tore off piece after piece of the juicy meat, occasionally grabbing some potatoes with his fork to mix their earthy tones with what was in his mouth. He hummed as he bit down on one of the cherry tomatoes; their watery pop was so satisfying and blended well with the rest of the dish. Thomas devoured his plate until all that remained was the sauce still clinging to the porcelain. He was about to swipe a finger across it to collect it when he remembered where he was and with whom.

Pausing, he noticed Newt observing his savagery in full display. His fingers and mouth were coated with the sauce from the ribs. He had one finger mid-swipe on the plate, and he didn't even want to imagine what he looked like as he practically moaned while he wolfed his food down. It was pretty embarrassing.

He took his finger away from the plate and picked up the nearest napkin to clean his face and hands, all while aware that Newt still had his eyes on him and was probably judging him.

    "Try this," Newt said, reaching for a cup with some sort of mousse with fruit in it. "It's pretty good."

Thomas pulled the cup towards him slowly. Newt handed him the spoon and he took it hesitantly, noticing for a brief moment his slender and soft hands as there was a small contact between their fingers when he grabbed the cutlery.

    "Thanks," Thomas said, unsure if it was the right thing to say or do.
    "We are in a pretty fucked up situation, Thomas. You're going to need energy for what comes next. By all means, eat as much as you want," Newt told him.

Perhaps it was the softly spoken words mixed with his kind expression, or maybe his accent and small smile was what did the trick, but Thomas knew that Newt was being genuine when he told him that.

Newt went to eat his own food, while Thomas turned to his dessert. Newt was an enigma. One that Thomas thought wasn't so bad to have on his side.

---

Thomas had never felt his stomach expand. He was so full of food that his mood had improved greatly after having just one meal. His first real meal in a long time.

Him and Newt were still hanging around the table, the other tribute was surprisingly friendly despite not knowing Thomas for more than a few hours.

Their idle chatter filled the room and was only interrupted when Brenda came back accompanied by someone.

A man, probably in his thirties or forties, strut right behind her holding two garment bags in one hand and a box in the other. He was dressed in a suit that was sober for the Capitol's style, but that still held some of the iconic flair of most of the clothes around there–mainly due to the big flower poking out of his front breast pocket.

    "All right. I hope you've had some time to relax because now we need to start preparing for the parade," Brenda uttered getting closer.

Newt groaned. Sinking further down in his chair, the older victor tried to hide from Brenda, who snickered at his reaction.

   "Can't we skip that?" Newt asked, his head thrown back against the chair as he complained.
   "You know that's not possible, Isaac."
   "Newt. I hate being called Isaac," he told her.
   The guy beside her cracked up at Newt's behavior. "Same kid as back then. Nice to see you haven't changed much, muchacho."

The sudden teasing towards Newt brought a smile out of Thomas. It was refreshing to see him be more like his own age and not the veteran survivor of the games he imagined.

    "Hi, Jorge," Newt said, finally lifting his head and looking at them. "In what ridiculous outfit are you going to shove me in this time?"
    Jorge skipped close to them, his hand over his chest as he tried to look offended by Newt's words. "You wound me, good sir. My outfits are not ridiculous. Cinna might be popular nowadays, but before him, there was just Jorge. The Capitol used to acclaim my name. They would clap-"
    "You're still butt-hurt because he got Katniss. I know, I know," Newt said. "I thought you didn't hold grudges."

Jorge jutted his lip out, made a grimace, and shrugged slightly as he moved his hands around.

    "I wouldn't call it a grudge. I took the kid under my wing, and some of his work has impressed me. Not as good as mine, but still a great job," Jorge said.

Newt gave him a deadpan look. Jorge tapped his foot and refused to look at him or say anything until Newt crossed his arms.

    "Okay, I might be a bit mad, but can you blame me?" Jorge uttered while he dropped his entire weight on the table with his elbows pressed against it as he accompanied each word with a movement of his hand. "I had so many ideas for her. For the two of them. Oh, it would have been glorious."

Brenda and Newt rolled their eyes simultaneously, making Thomas's grin grow wider. They looked like old friends that had a certain unique charm.

    Brenda stepped in, grabbed Jorge by the collar and pulled him up, "How about you make them look glorious so I can get them some sponsors?"
    Jorge bowed to her command and used an exaggerated tone to answer her. "Of course. Your will is my command, querida."

He placed the box on the table. He promptly procured a garment trolley out of nowhere, where he hung the two bags to be able to pull the zipper down. Jorge took the clothes they would be wearing, and flashed the design to Thomas and Newt, who immediately wanted to get out when they saw what Jorge had in store.

   "No," Newt said bluntly.
    Brenda stepped in, "Newt, this is to get you two spon—"
    "Do you want me to look like a fairy?" Newt complained. "The people of the Capitol love their weird eccentric shit—"
    "Ouch?" Jorge said.
    "—But this is too much. Even for them," Newt finished saying.

Thomas had to agree with Newt. The outfits had greens and yellows and so many flower patterns that even he wouldn't associate with his or Newt's district. Plus, there was an attempt at a translucent scarf that gave the illusion of fairy wings. Thomas would rather die now than wear that.

Brenda opened her mouth, ready to convince Newt, but was stopped by Jorge with a simple placement of his hand over her shoulder. Jorge disappeared for a second and came back carrying two new garment bags.

    "As a rule, we had to work with the other District's stylist since you guys would be mixed," Jorge explained as he brought the new clothes out. "Luckily for you, I knew you would hate what I was forced to make with that uncreative girl from Eleven. No offense," he said looking at Thomas in the last part.
    "None taken," Thomas said.
    "Voilà," Jorge said triumphantly as he revealed the second attire he had prepared.

It was simple: a white, long-sleeved button-up shirt and some suspenders with brown pants. However, the shirt had an embroidered pattern with fruits and grains cultivated in both of their Districts, and even a combination of their symbols engraved in the buttons of both the pants and shirt. It was simple but effective.

    "That's... better," Newt admitted.
    "Glad you think so," Jorge proudly proclaimed, making Newt's expression shift back to annoyed when he took a pair of olive branch crowns made of gold. "Now, this goes with these too."
    "And there's the Jorge addition," Newt complained again.
    Jorge gasped. "What is that supposed to mean?"
    "There's always something extra with you," Newt said, tone teasing and free.
    "Would you prefer the fairy outfit then?" Brenda reminded him.
    "No!" Newt and Thomas said simultaneously.

It was just for the ride to the training grounds. He couldn't avoid the tradition that opened the festivities of the Hunger Games either. So as long as it was something he wouldn't regret putting on, he was fine with whatever.

    "Good. Now, you two are no Katniss and Peeta; but I can still make you stand out with this," Jorge said, lifting the crown.

Thomas had a feeling that he was hiding something in them. Jorge's pleased expression wasn't helping to calm him. He would still do his best to endure it for his own good.

---

Getting to the training grounds was a blessing. The outfits were nice, they were soft and tailored to perfection to their bodies, but he still hated using them. However, they servered their propose. While they were not as flashy as Peeta and Katniss burning in their carriage—Thomas thought it was unfair that they were allowed to go together—the trick Jorge did with the crowns leaving a trail of golden dust that smelled like fruits, was a nice enough touch that won them some attention. Still, Thomas was happy to get out of the outfit and away from so many eyes on him.

The training grounds turned out to be more than what Thomas expected. Though, to be fair, he didn't even know what to expect. There were a lot of stations, a lot of weapons, and a bunch of tributes who were all trying their best to show off while they practiced.

Thomas should had been out there, but instead he remained glued to his spot with Newt. Both assessing their competitors.

    "Shouldn't we... train?" Thomas asked, leaning to the side.
    Newt glanced at him before turning back to scan the crowd. "What for?"
    "Killing? I don't know, you're the one that has already done this," Thomas complained, immediately feeling bad for his tone. "Sorry. It's just that I feel useless just standing here."

Newt looked around the room, spotting something in the distance. He cocked his head in the direction he wanted Thomas to look. There was a practice range with a selection of weapons to choose from.

When Thomas didn't move, Newt took it upon himself to drag him there while Thomas protested that he could walk by himself.

    "Well, pick something," Newt uttered.
    Thomas went through each possibility, every new one making him doubt the previous one. "Yeah, but which one?"

Thomas went through the options once more, finding that his eyes kept going back to the crossbow on the wall after he assesed a new weapon. What's the worst that can happen? he thought. He reached for it, and tested it's weight on his hands. Thomas went to stand in position. As soon as his feet were on the right spot, a hologram of a target appear in the far end of the small room.

Newt handed him one of the arrows, Thomas grabbed it and while he needed a bit of assistance from Newt to load it at first, he managed to get the hang of it eventually. Thomas brought it up and aimed. Zoning out as he focused on the target. He pressed the trigger and saw the arrow fly and land close to the bulls eye.

    "Not bad. Not bad at all," Newt said, and it sounded genuine. "Wanna try with moving targets to see how you do?"

The glint of mischief in the other's eyes was enough to fire Thomas's own competitive side. Newt saw that he accepted the challenge. Handing him more arrows, he switched the difficulty to moving targets.

Three holograms of people appeared right on cue as Thomas had the first arrow loaded. He aimed and shot, getting the first one on the chest. He did a quick work to reload and repeated the process, landing his next hit on the hip of the target. He felt excited, loading the third one, he was ready to land the third hit, but it was the only one he failed. The hologram got close to him and dissapeared before it could land a hit on Thomas.

    Newt squeezed his shoulder in a comforting way, "you got two. I say that's pretty good."
    "Well, he's no Katniss," someone said from right behind them.

The duo turned to the source of the voice. Thomas came face to face with one of the previous winners of the games. Alby had a grin from ear to ear, the handsome victor looked relaxed and in his element.

Thomas expected to see Newt greet him in a similar manner as he did with Finnick. Instead he found a deep rooted hatred behind Newt's eyes.

    "Newt," Alby said. "Long time since I last saw you."
    "And what a blessing that was," Newt said hastily and bitter.
    "Fair. Fair. I won't say I wasn't expecting that kind of reaction, I just hoped you would be less..." Alby appeared to struggle to find the right word.
    Newt spat the next word with venom on his voice, "less what? Angry? Bitter? What, Alby? What?"
    Alby sighed, "let's go with bitter. Anyway, I'm not here to discuss the past, but to talk about the future."

Newt snorted. He smiled cruelly at him, clearly done with Alby for whatever reason he might have.

    "There is no future with you or whatever your proposal was about to be," Newt answered. "You can get lost."

That must have been the most amount of unfiltered emotions Thomas have seen from the guy since he had interacted with Newt. Whatever happened between them clearly left a wound that Newt wasn't ready to heal. Alby, lifted his hands in the air as a manner of surrender. He slowly backed up and dissapeared in the sea of tributes without another word.

Newt kept his eyes on him at all times, throwing daggers in his direction. Thomas didn't want to pry into a matter that was clearly delicate and far too personal to ask about, but damned be his fragile heart, he wanted to find a way to comfort Newt.

    "Do you think that if I grow a ponytail I would be as good as Katniss?" Thomas joked in hopes to ease the tension.
    Newt turned to him, a half-smile already forming on his face as he tried to contain it. "Nah."
    "Nah? You're that sure?" Thomas asked, trying anything to get Newt's mind off of Alby.
    "Positive. Besides, you would look horrible with long hair," Newt said at first, and then added, "You're far more handsome with short hair. Plus, you don't have to worry about getting it out of your face."

Thomas rarely received compliments, especially from someone who, in his opinion, was quite attractive. He felt his face heat up, but managed to laugh it off, which also worked wonders in lifting Newt's mood.

    "Newt!" Someone called after his partner from across the room.

The source of the voice belonged to the girl Thomas recognised from the same District as Newt. Sonya, if he recalled correctly. She was waving at him to come closer, to which Newt obliged. He excused himself under the promise to come back soon.

Without Newt to his side, now Thomas felt out of place. Even if some of the tributes were there for the first time, just like him, at least half of them were career tributes and a lot of the others were victors. He was like a fish in a sea full of sharks waiting to be devoured. However, there was one shark that could help him.

Teresa. Thomas was sure he saw her when they arrived at the training grounds. He doesn't know what they will talk about, but part of him wanted to make sure his fellow District partner was doing good.

As he looked out for the girl, grunts and huffs of air caught his attention. Thomas followed the sound to one of the other training simulations, hoping it would be Teresa the one producing them. Instead of her he found a guy fighting with a spear against the holograms. He was around Thomas's height, with dark hair and bronzed skin—quite strong, and agile–with biceps almost as big as his head and an aptitude for the spear that made Thomas feel as if he were the one being stabbed to death as he watched him take on one opponent after another.

The simulation ended. The guy rested with his spear to one side and his other hand on his hip as he caught his breath. He turned his head per chance, catching Thomas starring at him and in good old fashion, Thomas went and opened his mouth when he didn't know what else to do.

   "T-That was impressive," Thomas stutter. "Very, uhm... precise?"

The guy chuckled, the sound making Thomas feel a bit of relief that he didn't say something completely stupid. He walked from his spot on the training ground to Thomas, spear still in hand that made Thomas a bit apprehensive that he was walking towards him.

    "Thomas, right?" The guy said, pointing briefly with the spear at Thomas and making him back up slightly. "District Eleven."
    "Eh, yeah that's me," Thomas answered.
    The guy swapped the spear to his non-dominant hand, and offered the other one to Thomas, "Minho, District five."

Thomas accept it, being pulled slightly forward in the process. Minho's grip was firm and quite strong, he felt that his fingers were being crushed. 

    "You're pair up with Newt, right?" Minho asked.
    "Yep, he's here somewhere," Thomas uttered.
    Minho scanned the room alongside Thomas until they found him, "I've heard he has some hidden skills that helped him win the games."

Newt's games were one of the most brutal and short ones. Most of the tributes died in the first five minutes of the game. There were no alliances, no day two. The games started and everyone went for the kill, leaving only four survivors—Newt included. By the nightfall the other three had died and Newt was crowned winner the next morning.

Thomas was about to discuss it with Minho, but he thought about it better. He wants information. He's not being friendly because he actually cares for you, he just wants a way to know Newt's weaknesses. Don't trust anyone, just like Teresa said.

    Minho smirked, "you don't trust me. It's okay."

Thomas panicked, thinking that Minho had a way to read his mind.

    "It's hard to," Thomas said honestly.
    "I know," Minho cocked his head in the direction behind Thomas. "See that guy."

'That guy' turned out to be Minho's new partner. Thomas couldn't remember his name, but he's sure he's one of the tributes from district one, which was odd considering that Thomas looked more built than him and he's the one that has been feeding off scraps most of his life. He was practicing knots on some kind of machine. Too distracted to notice Minho and Thomas looking at him.

    "That's Aris. District one. He seems to be smart, but so far I haven't seen him lift a single weapon despite being a career," Minho said.
    Thomas frowned, and turned back to Minho, "Why are you telling me this?"

Minho looked for eavesdroppers first, then got closer to Thomas. He placed a hand around his shoulder and brought him into a half hug so he could talk to him more privately.

    "Because I've thought about it and you and Newt are my best option," Minho whispered.
    Thomas observed Minho, looking for any trace of a lie, "best option for what?"
    "An alliance," Minho said immediately. "Just look around you."

Thomas did, and all he saw was everyone doing their own thing.

    "I just see people," Thomas said back.
    "People that has started to form groups," Minho counter argued.

He took another look around, and saw things in a new light. Beetee and Katniss where talking. Harriet and Gally looked too amicable for his liking. Finnick, Mags and Wriss appeared to be old friends. Even Peeta was having a conversation with Alby.

    "I don't expect us to be friends," Minho said. "But I say we increase our chances of survival by sticking together like the rest."
    "What about Aris?" Thomas asked, locking eyes with Minho, "Why not include him into your plans."
    Minho shook his head, "he's career and from district one. I doubt he cares for us at all. As kind as he might have been so far, I don't trust him."

It sounded logical. Even if they were to fight side by side, having extra help would give Thomas and Newt a better chance to last longer.

A loud dry impact caused him and Minho to cut the conversation and look for the source. Finding Finnick smiling as he practiced hitting targets with his trident.

    "So? What do you say Thomas?" Minho finally asked him as he still kept his eyes on Finnick.
    "I'll talk with Newt," Thomas answered, also observing Finnick. "I think I see the benefits of one."

It was time for him to start being useful. Otherwise the games will catch up to him and he won't be able to survive. 

Notes:

Chapter 3 out, and 4 is on its way.

Chapter 4: Performing for the wolves.

The first day of training finally came to an end. He tried to talk to Teresa several times, but she kept avoiding him, which is why Thomas had never been happier about being left alone. Keeping up with all the performances and feeling observed by everyone was overwhelming. Adding Teresa's behavior made it worse. The odd personalities of some of the tributes, like Finnick, also contributed to his tiredness.

He could still feel Finnick's eyes on him. The victor from district four was a puzzle Thomas would rather leave alone, but Finnick was clearly thinking differently. He caught him staring at him at some point during training and instead of feeling bad or apologizing, Finnick winked at him. Thomas felt the heat on his face and immediately chose to avoid eye contact; thinking that there was no doubt why there were so many rumors about his many lovers. If he was that flirtatious, someone was bound to fall for it.

Sinking onto the couch, Thomas took off his shoes and rested his eyes while someone took a seat beside him. A contented sigh was released somewhere in his vicinity, but he didn't bother to check who had made the sound.

    "Not so bad, guys. Keep this up, and we might have a chance to help you in the arena," Brenda said.

Thomas opened his eyes and found her seated across from him. Newt was the one beside him, and just like Thomas, he had taken off his shoes and had his feet on top of the table. His head was thrown back, and his eyes were also closed.

Looking back at Brenda, Thomas saw that she was relaxing too. With her shoes discarded, she was completely lying down on the couch and looking at the ceiling with a contented expression.

They were an odd trio: a mysterious victor, an overly caring and kind mentor, and an oblivious boy from one of the poorer districts. They must have looked so out of place together, and that was without adding Jorge to the equation.

He found that that bothered him a bit. He hadn't expected to be lucky enough to have two people who seemed to actually care for him. That is, if he could take their word for it, of course. He wanted to believe that Newt and Brenda had genuine intentions, but it was hard without any real proof.

    Newt extended his arm, bringing two fingers together. He flicked Thomas in the head, effectively making him snap out of his thoughts.

    "What?" he said, a bit annoyed, rubbing the spot.
    "What are you thinking so hard about?" Newt asked him.

Should I ask them? I have no way of knowing if they would be honest, Thomas reasoned while he glared at Newt and pondered his answer. Brenda was faster than him and managed to read him like a book once more.

    "He still doesn't trust us," she said matter-of-factly. "Don't you get tired of doubting people?"
    "I—how did you know?" Thomas asked, afraid she was using some capital magic to read him.
    Brenda and Newt giggled. She was the one to speak again. "It's the same for everyone. I still remember my time in the Games. Man, I was cranky back then."
    "You still are," Newt uttered without malice.
    Brenda grabbed a pillow and threw it at Newt, who caught it without a problem, "Fuck you."

Both of them broke down in laughter. Soft giggles filled the room. Brenda's sweet voice mixed with Newt's deeper one, giving Thomas a sense of familiarity and confidence. They were two complete strangers, along with him, on one of the worst and wildest rides of his life, and maybe the last one. Yet, they acted as if they were just three friends talking after a day of work. Thomas found it hard to process the whole range of emotions he was feeling.

"So, you're saying that you pity me?" Thomas asked when the laughter died down.
"You think so lowly of me?" was her immediate response.

Brenda turned her head towards him. Her eyes softened, and Thomas understood in that moment that she did care. That she knew how he felt because she had been the same, and so was Newt. Both would probably prefer to be away and doing anything else, just like him. Newt must be having a harder time than him. Surviving only to be dragged back in must be nerve-wracking. Yet, Thomas was being selfish and thinking that he had it the worst.

    "I don't pity you, Thomas. I just... want to give you a fair chance," she spoke softly, her words carrying themselves in the quiet all the way to Thomas. "That's why I try to always be a mentor. To give everyone what I didn't get with my shitty mentor."
    "I didn't know," Thomas said.
    "You had no way to," Brenda answered as she sat up. "Even if... even if I don't manage to make them survive, I try to make these last days... useful."

Brenda's eyes were glossy. Thomas couldn't even begin to comprehend the emotional toll of someone who does this because they care. How many times had she tried to help, only for her tributes to never come back? How many of them meant something to her, to the point that she carries them in her heart? All those and more questions formed in Thomas's mind. He felt bad for doubting her. She was from the Capitol, and that line of thinking was inevitable sometimes.

Brenda took a deep breath to calm down. She stood, stretched, and slowly put her shoes back on.

    "Well, I need to go. You guys need to rest, and my house is quite far from here," she uttered before picking up her stuff.
    "Brenda..."
    She placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "It's okay. Don't beat yourself up over it. Get some rest. We still have two more days of training before you get your scores. You'll need your energy."

With those words, she left. Thomas, now alone with Newt, turned to the other tribute in hopes of moving on from the awkward moment he had put himself in.

    "Don't worry, mine is not such a noble cause," Newt said before Thomas spoke. "I'm just not an asshole."

Thomas found it funny. The way Newt said it so confidently and without a single ounce of care was hilarious to him for some reason. Maybe it was that Newt didn't wear a mask like the other tributes. He was honest, and Thomas loved that, or perhaps it was the fact that it was getting late and he had one of the busiest days of his life, so his brain found everything funnier.

    "Welp, I'm going to take Brenda's advice," Newt announced as he got to his feet.

Thomas followed his example, but as he got to his feet, he remembered something he should have discussed when Brenda was there but that had escaped his brain until this moment.

    "One of the tributes wants to make an alliance," Thomas informed him.
"Who?" Newt frowned and crossed his arms.
"Minho. District five," Thomas answered.

Newt thought about it as he chewed on his bottom lip. Thomas, for a moment, thought that he was about to say no, but he shrugged and moved past him in the direction of his room.

    "I'll think about it, but... I saw him today. He could be..."
    "Of use?" Thomas asked.
    "A good addition, Jesus, Tommy. I'm not a monster," he said and left Thomas for his bed.

Tommy... he repeated the word a couple of times in his head. The nickname felt childish most of the time when someone tried to use it with him, that's why he shut it down always. Newt's way of saying it was better. He liked it.

---

Two more days passed in a breeze. In that time, he had tried to establish a conversation with Teresa, but she kept him at arm's length, always using short answers or excusing herself to practice. He would have sulked after such rejection, but he found that his new alliance with Minho served as a good distraction.

Minho taught him as much as he could about fighting alongside Newt in those two days. The trio became relatively closer in a short period—enough so that Thomas hoped that both of them would get good scores when the day of the test came.

That's another thing that had his mind riddled. He was mediocre at best. He didn't have the preparation of the Careers, the talents of some of the tributes, or the charm or physique of someone like Newt and Minho. So what could he do on that day?

Minho had pointed out that he had good reflexes and agility, but that's not something he could flaunt around to get a score. It doesn't have the stylishness that the Capitol is looking for. Still, he had to find something. Holding on to hope, he went through the training so he could prepare as best as he could for both the scoring day and his day in the arena.

---

The door to the room closed behind Thomas, leaving him alone in the semi-dark hallway that led to an open room where the Gamemakers were waiting for him. He was supposed to show off, to win points that would aid him later. All he had to do was follow Newt's advice, yet he wasn't sure if that would be enough.

    "Extend your arm, please."

A woman in a coat was the one to impose the request. She remained with her palm extended to receive Thomas's arm.

    "W-what for?" Thomas asked.
    "It's just part of the procedure. There's nothing to worry about," she said.
   
She tried to reach for his arm, but Thomas retracted it back to safety. She tried again, and he panicked, telling her to stop. His little tantrum caused one of the Peacekeepers to deploy his baton as he walked near him, no doubt planning on beating him if necessary so he would do as he was told.

    "Enough," a voice said, interrupting them. "Leave him."

The guard halted, looked up, and retreated. Thomas now paid attention to the owner of the voice. Three figures stood on a balcony from which he could recognize only Ava. The voice, however, belonged to the one standing on the edge, looking down at him. His gray hair, hard, grayish eyes, and rigid posture reminded Thomas of a rodent.

    "Thomas, I'm Assistant Director Janson, one of the Gamemakers," the man explained. "You're going to be administered a serum with nanotechnology that will allow us to read your vitals. It's not dangerous. It won't do anything to you. You're safe."
    Thomas swallowed the lump in his throat. "Prove it."
    The man arched an eyebrow, then rolled his sleeve up. "Sure."

Another man wearing the same lab coat as the woman approached him. Janson allowed him to puncture him with a similar needle to the one the woman had used.

"See, perfectly safe," Janson uttered. "We're just testing some things for the day of the Games. It's harmless. The rest had the same done to them."

Thomas licked his lips. The man didn’t strike him as someone honest, but his options were limited.  He either had to accept being stabbed or risk being beaten by a guard. Thomas chose to keep his bones intact. The needle wasn’t so bad. It was the color of the liquid inside it that worried him.

   "Fast and painless. Plutarch, he’s all yours,” Janson said.

Plutarch stood from his chair. He approached the edge, regarding Thomas like a hawk eyeing its prey.

    “Thomas Edison. Tribute from District Eleven,” the man uttered as he looked down at a list in his hand. “Do your best. The time limit is up there. Begin.”

He went and sat beside Ava and Janson. The three began conversing, not really caring whether Thomas did something or not. You need points. You need points. But how do I get them without them seeing me? He thought to himself as he moved to the many weapons on the table. He glanced back and saw that they were still not paying attention to him. What on earth is their problem? How are they going to grade us? This is ridiculous.

Frustrated, Thomas considered his options. He needed  something special. A spectacle. This was all a spectacle, and he knew it. Newt had even said so himself. All they cared about was whether you had something to offer. Otherwise, you were nonexistent.

He spared another glance in their direction. Still nothing. They were even drinking champagne now. It was one thing to live under their constant judgment, but it was completely unacceptable to him that they would ignore him like that after they had reaped him from his home. If he could, he would have liked to kill them instead of the other tributes.

He glared at them so hard that his gaze caught onto something he hadn't noticed before that moment. It was faint, but he could have sworn there was a thin layer of something around the balcony where the Gamemakers were. Out of curiosity, Thomas grabbed the sword and walked up to the practice dummy. Thomas sliced off the dummy's head. He grabbed it and, in one smooth motion, threw it with all his strength in their direction. The head bounced violently when it collided with a shield.

The vibrating noise from the clash caught their attention. Grabbing the sword by the hilt, Thomas spun around and used all his force to split the dummy in half from the torso up. It fell to the floor with a soft thud.

The next words out of his mouth came from a part of Thomas he didn't know he had in him. "There. Violence. That's what you all like, right? Now give me my points."

Ava looked disgusted, Janson appeared to be annoyed, but Plutarch seemed to see Thomas with new eyes. The main gamemaker gave him a short nod, which Thomas interpreted as his cue to exit the room. He gladly sprang out of there.

---

"You..." Brenda inhaled. "You attacked the Gamemakers. The Gamemakers..."

Brenda paced from one side of the room to the other, running her hands through her hair as she talked to herself and cursed Thomas's existence. She looked angry and slightly annoyed, but Newt had the biggest grin on his face.

    "Now I regret not doing that. How did you know they had a force field?" Newt asked.
    "I didn't," Thomas admitted. "I had a hunch, but I wasn't a hundred percent sure."
    "So you risked it all knowing you could hit a Gamemaker and probably get whipped for it? If not worse?" Newt questioned, his grin now turning into a full smile on his handsome face.
    "You said I should entertain them," Thomas said softly.
    Newt snickered, "Oh that you did."
    "Don't encourage it, Newt," Brenda said.

Newt still mouthed to him that he did good. Which made him feel proud.

    "How do you think we're doing?" Newt asked Brenda.
    "Not so bad," Brenda answered, still pacing from side to side. "But everything will depend on the results today. The parade helped, though."

Caesar's voice coming from the TV brought their attention back to the program. They were forced to sit through most of the other tributes' scores. Minho and Aris did pretty well, apparently. Harriet also had a high score, as did Alby. Thomas didn't miss how Newt clicked his tongue when Alby was announced, nor how disappointed he was when Sonya appeared with barely a five.

Thomas had a similar reaction when Teresa's turn came. He had seen her briefly on the day of the scoring, where they shared a quick moment when she told him he looked good—probably referring to him no longer being malnourished. Other than that, she still kept to herself. So why did he care about her score? Perhaps it was just part of his nature to care. He always cared too much.

Their time to shine finally came after Teresa was announced. All three huddled closer in expectation of the results.

    "From District Nine, Newt. A good score of... ten!" Caesar said.

Brenda celebrated, shaking Newt and praising him for still having the talent to win the judges over. Thomas never knew what he did during his scoring test, but he clearly did something right.

    "From District Eleven, Thomas Edison... seven!" he announced.

It wasn't the best, but considering what he did to catch their attention, Thomas thought it was a good result. Brenda looked apprehensive about it, but if she thought so too, she didn't let him know.

    "It's okay. We still have the interviews before the games," Brenda said hopefully.
    "We also have a party before that," Newt commented.

Both Brenda and Thomas looked at him. Thomas hadn't heard anything about a party. He was sure that after the interviews, they would have to face the arena and its horrors, but maybe Newt knew something.

    Brenda urged him to speak, "Well? Go on. Don't keep us waiting."
"There's a party for some of the tributes. I was invited, and I can bring a plus one," Newt explained.
    Thomas searched for the moment Newt could have been invited but failed to find it. "Who invited you?"
    "Don't ask," Newt said, handing Brenda the invitation.
    She ripped it from his hands faster than Thomas thought possible. "It was Finnick, wasn't it?" she said.

Newt pressed his lips closed. It was Finnick, even Thomas was sure of that. The victor of District Four had approached Newt a couple of times and even Thomas once more in the past three days. However, when it came down to it, Thomas was far from his usual cheerful self. He was still charismatic, but the questions he asked Thomas were suspicious enough that even he thought for a second that Finnick was asking him too much about his opinion on the Capitol. He only answered because Finnick promised to teach him some survival tricks if he was honest.

    "Yeah, he kept telling me that it was important that I went," Newt said.
    "Why? Is it organized by the Capitol?" Thomas asked, leaning closer to Brenda to see the invitation.
    "Nop. Some rich fucker wants to get some popularity by inviting the most renowned tributes or something like that. If I'm being honest, I didn't pay attention," Newt uttered.

Thomas focused on readying the invite. It wasn't just any rich fucker. The card clearly read that Plutarch Heavensbee was the host of the party. One of the Gamemakers organising such a thing only meant that important people of the Capitol were bound to attend.

    "Whatever his intention was we need to take the opportunity. I'll call Jorge, we need suits," Brenda said and skipped out of the room with her phone already on her ear.

Newt and Thomas regarded her retreat for a second before they went back to see one another.

    "What do you think Finnick wants? And should I even go? He wanted you there, not me," Thomas asked. "He never mentioned anything when I spoke to him."
    "I don't know, but we will find out either way. Plus, if he wants me to hear him yap he's going to have to accept that you're coming with me," Newt uttered.

It was a small gesture, but to Thomas it meant a lot. He was never the center of attention back in his district. Stronger people like Thresh or even Rue with her charming personality were more likely to be remembered by someone else. It was nice to have someone stick by him that wasn't family.

    "Let's figure out what the sugar freak wants then," Thomas said, earning a half smile from Newt.

---

It took a lot of back-and-forth between Newt and Jorge, but they finally settled on the suits Newt and Thomas would wear for the party. Jorge wanted to go for flashy yet classic, while Newt wanted to stick with the latter, and Thomas had to agree because he didn't fancy wearing a skirt as Jorge suggested since he didn't have the legs to show it off. Begrudgingly, Jorge agreed and got them a pair of suits that were still very much on-brand with the Capitol's latest fashion.

They were already on their way to the party. All three crammed into Brenda's car since she offered to take them there and was quite impressive in how she fought off the guards when they tried to disagree. The only problem was that Thomas hadn't had the time to put his tie on, and now using the rearview mirror was uncomfortable.

Securing the tie around his neck, Thomas observed himself in the mirror only to find it crooked and with one end longer than the other. He furiously removed it and was about to try for the fourth time when Newt took it from his hands and made him turn so he could do it for him.

The position was awkward since he had to lean between the seats and tilt his head slightly up to extend his neck and let Newt do his job. He was also sure one of his elbows was in Brenda's face, but she didn't mention anything.

Thomas looked down out of boredom. Newt had his eyebrows furrowed together and was unconsciously holding his tongue between his teeth. He found the expression captivating for some reason.

    "There," Newt said, tapping the tie and fixing the collar of the shirt for him.
    "Thanks," Thomas answered softly as he got back into his seat.

Brenda glanced at him from the corner of her eye, one eyebrow lifted and a knowing smile on her lips that Thomas couldn't decipher at that moment.

---

Thomas had hardly ever been invited to a party. They didn't have many back in the District, and when they did, it was a community event, not something as personal as being invited to a fancy dinner party by a wealthy man.

He didn't know how to behave, what to say, or anything about etiquette. His life had always been working the fields, getting his hands and clothes dirty so every manicured hand in this pompous party could be perfectly kept. He was out of his element.

    "You look ready to pass out," Newt commented softly, just loud enough for Thomas to hear.
    "I feel undressed. Is she wearing a peacock?" Thomas asked, his eyes never leaving the guest they had landed on.
    Newt sighed. "It sure looks like it."

Thomas wondered what his life would have been like if he had been born in the Capitol. Would he be as eccentric? He didn't even want to think about it. The worst part was that he was supposed to be likable to them. He somehow needed to be as alluring as Finnick or as interesting as Katniss, or otherwise, he was doomed to have the greatest disadvantage in the arena.

Newt elbowed him to get his attention. Thomas stopped staring and focused instead on one of the only genuine friends he had in this crazy world. Did I just think of him as a friend? Maybe we are, Thomas thought. Of all the people he had met in his life, Newt was one he would very much like to call a friend.

    "Hello, Thomas. I didn't expect to see you here."

Newt and Thomas were now joined by Teresa. His former District partner looked more like she belonged at the party than any of them. Her long dress fitted her perfectly, and the smoky makeup brought out her piercing blue eyes and cheekbones. She looked beautiful. Dangerously beautiful.

Thomas tried to bite back the remark already forming in his mouth, but he found that he was still bitter at her for the way she had acted the past few days.

    "I didn't expect  you to finally talk to me again," Thomas said. "Does it give you extra points if someone sees you with me?"

Maybe the last part was unnecessary. Teresa sure looked like she thought that. The tension rose, neither of them trying to break it. The situation was starting to feel uncomfortable. Even Newt looked awkward as he took a sip of his champagne. The trio was saved by Finnick's Finnick in their circle.

    "Why the gloomy looks? We're at a party," he said. "Remember to smile, guys. People are watching." He whispered next.

All three of them looked around and indeed, Thomas's little outburst had brought out some unwanted attention from the guests at the party. People were glancing and whispering. Thomas fixed his posture and tried to look more amicable quickly.

    "Much better," Finnick praised. "I hope you don't mind me stealing Newt, Thomas. It will be brief."
    "You should ask him if he wants to go. It's quite rude to assume," Thomas said, mimicking Finnick's fake smile.
    Finnick smiled sincerely this time around while he observed Thomas, "Fair enough. Newt?"
    "Let's just get this over with," Newt uttered.

Finnick pushed through the crowd with Newt following close behind. That left Thomas to deal with Teresa alone. She was still looking in their direction, so Thomas cleared his throat to make her look back at him.

    "I'm sorry for how I acted," Thomas said.
    Teresa looked down, the ghost of a smile graced her lips, "It's okay. I didn't want to ignore you, Thomas. It's just that it's better if you do."

She came closer to him, putting on her best, most content smile as she spoke again in a tone full of melancholy, only for Thomas to hear.

    "It's better if you don't get attached to anyone," she explained, reaching out to fix his tie for him. "In a few days, we will be forced to fight one another. And believe me..."

Teresa stopped fixing his tie but allowed her hand to rest on Thomas's chest, right above his heart. Her azure eyes locked with his in a sort of intimacy that he had never felt before.

    "It will hurt less if you don't care for me. If you don't care for Newt, or Finnick, or..." She took a shaky breath. "The games will always haunt you, Thomas. But your future nights will be easier if you just don't care."

She was broken, a structure of glass with so many cracks that the games had left that it was barely holding together. Teresa didn't keep him at arm's length because she thought lesser of him. She did it so he would have an easier time if it came down to killing her. He was an idiot, but he thought that she was even more so for throwing her life away like that.

    "Teresa-"
    "I hope you do survive. This world doesn't need monsters like me in it, Thomas. But it does need people like you," she said.
    He brought his hand to squeeze hers, still on his chest. "You barely know me, Teresa. I'm hardly someone perfect. You can't possibly think of yourself like that."
    "I do. I can't sleep with all the blood on my hands, blood I was too eager to draw to survive," She pulled her hand away from his. "And you're right. We had barely interacted before..."

She took a step back. For the first time since he had known her, Thomas finally saw the true Teresa. Her empty eyes were full of hurt, her air of confidence just an armor for what was inside. Teresa was fighting all those demons, and here he was thinking she was just being superficial and looking out for her own survival.

    "You're right. I don't know you, but I know your heart, Thomas," Teresa said.

He wanted to say something. Thomas needed to let her know that it was okay to feel that way, but that she couldn't possibly give up so easily.

    "The same heart that cared for Rue, that never forgot to smile and laugh despite how bleak our reality was," Teresa uttered, her voice quivering at the end.

I'm not that, he thought immediately. Thomas knew he should speak, he should make sure she was  fine; pull her away from the party and all the prying eyes so they could talk without interruption. Yet he couldn't; he was frozen in place.

    "So look forward to having a guardian angel looking over you in the arena," she said as she took her next step back. "Leave the bloodshed to me. I've already decided I will save whoever hopped on that train. I'm just glad it was someone worthy."

Teresa turned around and scurried away through the crowd. It took him a moment to react, but Thomas went after her.

Chapter 5: Cocktails & plotting.

He lost her. Thomas should have reacted when she took the first step back instead of standing there looking like an idiot. He made a mental note to try to catch her before the games started. He wouldn't have her sacrifice her life to save his.

Maybe I should find Newt, Thomas thought. Excusing himself, he parted the sea of people while he tried to catch a glimpse of either blonde. There were so many guests for such a reserved party that he would have believed it if someone had told him half the Capitol was there.

He came into contact with the sturdy back of someone he didn't see as he dodged another guest. Thomas was already in mid-apology when he saw he had been stupid enough to clash with the owner of the party accompanied by the star of the moment. Plutarch and Katniss looked back at Thomas, who still had an apology to finish and a blonde to find.

    "I-I'm so sorry, I didn't see you there, sir," Thomas said awkwardly.
    "It's alright. I'm sorry, but... who are you? I don't remember sending you an invitation," Plutarch uttered.

Of course he doesn't remember. His comment felt like a hit directly to the gut. Though he couldn't tell if being invisible to him was a blessing or a curse. Right now, it just felt like an insult.

    Thomas put on his best smile, "I'm Thomas. Newt brought me as his plus one."
    "Ah, yes. The enigmatic boy of nine, and you're his partner for the games. Say, where is he?" Plutarch asked as he looked around.
    "I was just in the middle of trying to find him, actually," Thomas admitted.
     "You can do that in due time. Join us," Plutarch said, bringing him closer. "You know, I must say, I wasn't expecting you to do what you did during the scoring."

It's definitely a curse, Thomas thought as he reached his conclusion. Thomas had really been counting on him not remembering him at all—not only because he wanted to find Newt, but also because having a Gamemaker remember him sounded like a recipe for disaster.

    "Though I wasn't expecting Katniss to do what she did, you two really left an impression," Plutarch said, pointing between one and the other.

Both Katniss and Thomas were saved from answering, thanks to a group of guests calling Plutarch over. The Gamemaker excused himself and left the two standing there to continue their conversation.

Katniss gave him a tight smile that Thomas returned. For someone he had spent weeks seeing through TV, where she broadcasted her life for the Capitol to see, Thomas found out that he knew barely anything about her. The only thing he knew was that every time he saw her, Katniss gave off the impression of not wanting to be there.

She didn't fit into the world of the Capitol, yet the city always tried to draw her back in. He could see it in the way she posed, in the way she held her untouched glass of champagne tightly, in how she was already looking around for an excuse to leave Thomas's presence. He didn't blame her; he had been feeling the same these past few days. Only a few moments had been peaceful.

He would usually encourage her to go, but there was one thing that he would very much like to discuss with Katniss.

    "Your speech about Rue was beautiful," Thomas said.

That made her look back at him. Katniss was just as hard to read as Newt, but at least in that moment Thomas could tell she was intrigued by his choice of words.

    "You were there that day?" Katniss asked.
    Thomas nodded, lowering his eyes to his hands while he picked at his nails to calm his nerves, "Yes. I'm glad Rue had a friend in the arena."
    "A friend that could hardly save her," Katniss responded.

Thomas had to disagree. Katniss had, of course, not been able to keep Rue alive. However, she did save her from dying alone, from not feeling the warmth of another human being in her last moments.

    "You gave her comfort in her last moments," Thomas looked up and straight into her eyes. "That's more than enough. I wish I could have been there to sing to her one last time, but you were there to do that. I'm glad."

Katniss, despite her stoicism, was a genuinely caring person. Thomas could tell. From the way she was now moved by his words to how she was willing to die alongside Peeta, Thomas was certain that she was one of the few people to come out of the games with part of her heart still intact.

    "Thank you," she said. "Were you... was Rue-"
    "We weren't family, if that's what you wanted to ask," Thomas answered the obvious question. "I just knew her. She was really sweet and energetic, always looking to make friends."

Katniss smiled, and for once, it didn't look forced. She relaxed her shoulders and appeared to be more at ease around him now.

    "Chuck reminds me of her," Katniss said.
    "Chu- Oh, right. I forgot you guys swapped," Thomas said. "How is he... taking all of this?"
    Katniss thought about it for a second before giving an answer. "He's twelve. He's scared, having nightmares most nights."

That was to be expected in Thomas's opinion. He was just a few years older than him, and he was scared of the day in the arena. He wondered if Newt had nightmares. He was Chuck's age when he won. Thomas's mind had a funny way of reminding him of Newt sometimes.

    "And Peeta? You guys must be devastated with all the time apart," Thomas said mindlessly.

Katniss didn't answer immediately, if at all. She, instead took a sip from her drink and proceeded to go back to acting uncomfortable. Great, I fucked it up, Thomas thought.

    "Didn't mean to pry. Forget my question," he said immediately.
    Katniss shook her head slightly. "It's expected."
    "Doesn't mean you can't be tired of answering the same question," Thomas told her. "I sure as hell would have gone crazy by now."

That got a small chuckle out of her. Barely perceptible, but it was there for sure. Thomas would have continued their conversation, but he caught a glimpse of blond hair and he could have sworn it was Newt. When he looked back at Katniss to excuse himself, he found her already looking at him.

    "You'd better go look after him before you lose him again," Katniss said.

Thomas nodded and moved past her. He spared one more glance back and found her looking at him. She raised her glass in a sort of acknowledgment, and Thomas gave her a tight-lipped smile in response.

---

Moving through the crowd in the direction he thought he saw Newt disappear, Thomas finally found the charming tribute of nine on a balcony at the back of the party. Newt was standing close to the railing, looking angry and ready to murder Alby, who appeared to be in the same state and telling something to Newt.

His partner spat some response back at Alby and tried to move out of the way, but the other tribute reached to grab Newt by the arm and forced him to stay. Newt yanked his arm out of his grip, and that seemed to piss Alby off even more.

Thomas quickly grabbed two cups with some kind of unidentifiable liquid from one of the trays and moved out to intervene because Newt looked to be seconds away from throwing Alby over the balcony.

    "Hey, Newt..." Thomas said, making two pairs of angry eyes land on him. "I've been looking all over for you. I've got your drink."

Newt's expression softened a bit while Alby's seemed to deepen as he glared at Thomas.

    "Thanks. Come on, we better go enjoy the rest of the party," Newt said as he approached him and took hold of his arm.
    "You're making a mistake, Newt," Alby shouted after them.

Thomas looked back at Alby for a second just to see him stomp away in anger, so he chose to focus on Newt instead. He was dragging Thomas farther away, eyes fixed to the front as he zigzagged through the guests. He didn't let go of him until they were in a secluded area of the party near a staircase that led to the second floor.

Newt flopped down on the first step of the stairs and brought his knees closer to let his head fall on top of them. Thomas sat down, a bit awkwardly both because of Newt's demeanor and because he had to balance the two drinks to avoid making a mess.

He glanced at the top of Newt's head. The other still refused to lift it or explain anything. Setting one of the drinks down, Thomas reached out to pat Newt on the head lightly, only for him to flinch and finally look at him.

    "Sorry, I was just trying to—never mind. Do you want the drink?" Thomas said, offering Newt the beverage.

Newt grabbed it and chugged it down faster than Thomas thought humanly possible. He wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve and placed the glass down on the step between them.

    "Are you okay?" Thomas asked.
    Newt sighed, "I'll live."

Thomas knew he would, but that didn't help to get his mind off Newt's clearly dampened mood. He had helped him throughout all these days, so he thought it was only fair to at least lend him a shoulder to cry on if he needed it.

    "I met Katniss," he said out of the blue.
    Newt tilted his head in his direction, extended his arms over his knees, and let the side of his face rest on top of them. "Did you?"
    "Yep, right after I clashed with Plutarch's back," Thomas uttered, not looking at Newt. "The guy almost sent me flying across the room."

Newt chuckled, and that's all Thomas was hoping for. It was a nice sound to hear after the hectic night they'd had.

    "You really have bad luck, mate," Newt said with a wide grin, Thomas's misfortune acting as a catalyst for his improvement.
    "Yeah. I don't know how I've made it this far in life," he said, wetting his lips and bringing his own glass closer to take a sip.
   
Newt pressed his hand quickly against the upper part of the glass, effectively causing Thomas to kiss the back of his palm by accident before he took the glass away from him and stood up quickly to change it for a new one. He apologetically placed the new drink in his hand and went back to sit beside him.

    "Try that one instead," Newt said.
    Thomas looked in the direction his previous drink had disappeared and then back at Newt, "Was there something wrong with the other one?"

Newt opened and closed his mouth. It was the first time he had seen him struggle to tell him something directly, and that only got Thomas more curious.

    Newt cleared his throat, "You know how there's a lot of food at this party?"
    "Yeah..." Thomas said slowly. "What about it?"
    "Well, with so much food, you're bound to get full... right?" Newt reasoned.
    Thomas squinted his eyes, "Yeah... so?"
    "So what do you do when you have a full stomach?" Newt questioned.

Thomas was lost, but he still wanted to try to follow Newt's logic. What could possibly link a drink and a full stomach? Truly a mystery for Thomas.

    "You...want to wait to digest it?" Thomas tried.
    Newt rolled his eyes fondly. "Oh my—it makes you puke, Thomas."
    "What!" He shouted, immediately lowering his tone when people turned. "Why? For what reason?" He hissed.
    Newt let his head fall sideways into his palm, "People in the Capitol want to taste all the dishes. So they drink that, go to the bathroom, and..."

He had always cherished food, and here were the people of the Capitol throwing it away as if it were nothing. As if he hadn’t gone under the sun every day  to tend the fields that would feed their mouths while his starved. He was angry; his blood boiled with the need to scream at all the people he now saw with the same drink he was about to drink. It was disgusting. Absolutely disgusting in his mind.

    "Tommy? Thomas? You okay?" Newt asked.
    "No. I'm not," Thomas said, dangerously calm, making Newt's expression change to a worried one for a second. "You're telling me I've starved my ass all my life, just for them to throw all that food away? I want to get out of here."
    Newt patted him on the back, "In that, we can both agree."

---

Brenda tapped her foot against the elevator floor, shaking her head disapprovingly at the two of them. Thomas and Newt stood on either side of Brenda, sharing glances and wondering if they should say something. There was no need since Brenda clearly had a lot to say.

    "I can't believe I dropped you two for such a long time, and you couldn't socialize with even one or two rich people!" She huffed angrily.

She crossed her arms, staring angrily at the increasing numbers indicating the floor. Thomas furrowed his eyebrows in a silent question for Newt to see if they should say or do something. The other tribute chose to give a small shrug in response.

    "You two act like fucking teenagers, I swear," Brenda uttered.
    Newt leaned his upper part forward, looking at her even though she didn't look at him. "Eh, Brenda..."
    "I know. Shut up. You know what I mean," she said.

The elevator stopped on the fifth floor, making Brenda roll her eyes and blow air out of her nose. The doors opened, revealing the back of Aris, who was facing a very tired Minho. Aris turned, and now the trio locked eyes with the duo. Aris was, for some reason, carrying so many bags of junk food in his arms while somehow also gripping a can of soda in one hand that had a straw. Thomas was surprised they didn't fall off.

Minho spun on his heels and walked in the direction of his room without a single word. His bare feet barely made a sound against the floor. In the time Thomas had paid attention to him, Aris had made his way inside the elevator to stand close to Newt.

    "Can you..." He managed to signal the panel with a finger. "Press one."

Thomas reached for it and pressed it. Aris let out a small "thanks," and that was it. The group now fell into a silence Thomas wanted to fill with questions for Aris. Mainly, what was with all the junk food bags?

    "You guys went to a party or something?" Aris asked, checking them up and down.
    "Sort of. What's with all the bags?" Newt asked him.
    Aris looked down at the bags for a split second, "Minho is making me clean my room. Who was hosting the party?"

Thomas watched back and forth between the two. He would never understand how Newt could act so naturally with so many odd people. He was  always unfazed by all their weird behaviors.

    "Some rich guy," Newt answered.
    "Yeah, but which one?" Aris asked as he extended his neck to reach for the straw and take a sip from the can.

For someone he thought was shy and reserved, Aris speaks quite a bit. He also has similarly piercing blue eyes like Teresa's, but his seem to hold mischief and wonder rather than her emptiness.

    "I'll tell you if you answer some questions," Newt said.
    "Deal," Aris said without hesitation.
"It was Plutarch," Newt said. "How are you a Career? I've hardly seen you lift a weapon these past few days. Yet you got a good score."
    "I've been trained in how to play the Games. The Gamemakers and the sponsors are the only ones I care to let know what I'm good at," Aris answered. "What did Plutarch want with you two? I didn't get an invitation."
    "Fuck if I know. Finnick was the one that got it for me," Newt told him while crossing his arms. "What are you good at?"
    Aris hummed, "Let's just say Johanna isn't the only good one with an axe. What did odair say?

Thomas felt more awake than ever when the question was posed to Newt. Finnick had shown interest in Newt since day one, so obviously the party was to reveal whatever he wanted of him. Thomas wondered if maybe Alby also had something to do with that, and maybe that's why he shouted that Newt was making a mistake.

Newt's jaw tightened. He kept staring back at Aris, who held Newt's gaze for quite a while but started to look like he was crumbling under the pressure when Newt didn't say anything immediately.

    "He wants... my help," Newt answered finally. "Where were you going the other day that you were making sure you weren't followed?"

Thomas and Brenda observed the exchange silently, neither wanting to speak since Newt looked like he knew what he was doing. However, each time one of them answered and asked the next question, the less Thomas felt he knew. When did Newt even catch Aris sneaking around? Thomas pondered.

The elevator pinged, opening its doors on their floor. Newt appeared not to want to get off, and neither did the other two.

    "I think this is your stop," Aris said.

Brenda was the first to move, gently pulling Newt by the arm until he followed. Thomas stayed for a bit, observing Aris for a second before he also got off. The trio was about to make their way to their room when Aris called to them one more time. He had stopped the elevator door with his foot to prevent it from closing.

    "A word of advice. If you guys want to survive, you can't trust Finnick," Aris uttered, his tone and expression serious. "Or more like you can't trust the people behind him."

He removed his foot from the door and stepped back. Aris leaned against the back of the elevator, his gaze still on them.

    "As for your question, Newt. Beware of Ava and Janson; they are up to something. I wish I knew all the details," Aris uttered. "Stay together and, above all, protect Katniss. She's the key to getting out of here."

The door closed, taking Aris away from them as the elevator descended. Something was going on behind the scenes. How many people were involved? Who were the truly good or bad guys, if there even were any? These games had become more dangerous as the days passed; Thomas was only sure of one thing. As Aris had said, Katniss was the key that everyone was after.

Notes:

The plot thickens (i hope). See you guys tomorrow!

Chapter 6: Dead men Tales.

Thomas turned to his side, his eyes closed as he focused on falling asleep, but his brain refused to shut up. What was Finnick really up to? What could two of the Gamemakers have planned that Aris tried to warn them about? Why was Katniss the key to survival? What was so important about her?

Thomas rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling. People looked after her, was his first thought, but he realized it wasn't quite that. They saw her as... hope? he reasoned. Katniss, in all her public appearances, had spoken in favor of the Capitol, yet the talks of rebellion in his district only increased after her speech about Rue. However, that didn't align with Finnick or even Aris.

One was a previous victor, and sure, Finnick had acted strangely that day in the training grounds with all his questions for Thomas, but that didn't mean he wanted a rebellion, did it? Then there was Aris. Someone from District One, who should have no incentive to like Katniss or any need to protect her, yet he told them to do so.

Thomas was tired of his brain and his endless interest in what was going on. Throwing the covers off his body, he got out of  bed and went outside to try to clear his head.

Stepping into the living room, Thomas was about to flop on the couch when he saw Newt appearing on the opposite side and through the corridor that led to the exit.

    "Where did you go?" Thomas asked.
    "Why are you awake?" Newt questioned at the same time Thomas asked his question.

Squinting his eyes, Thomas tried to decipher Newt. He was still wearing the shirt and shorts he had gone to sleep in, but he could see he had put his shoes on. He doubted it was to take a nice walk in the middle of the night.

    "Couldn't sleep," Thomas admitted. "Where did you go?"
    "Just wanted some water," Newt tried to obviously lie.
  
Thomas looked at the jug on the table that Newt had taken out and forgotten to put back in the fridge before they went to bed. Still full of water. Raising an eyebrow, he saw him admit defeat.

    "I went to visit someone," Newt answered, walking past Thomas and sitting on the couch. "And before you ask, I can't tell you who."
    Thomas followed his example and flopped down beside him. "Why? Are you afraid that I'll somehow use it against you?"
Newt massaged the bridge of his nose. "What? No, I don't think you're like that."
Thomas crossed his arms, "Then why do you switch between telling me we're a team and keeping secrets?"
    "Because some of them are personal, Thomas," Newt answered, this time with more anger than he thought he deserved.

Thomas shut up. He had never meant to anger Newt. He never meant to do most of the things that turned out badly, but misfortune seemed to follow him around.

    "I'm sorry, I didn't mean..." Newt moved one of his hands to comfort him but retracted it.
"I just want to help like you and Brenda have done so far," Thomas told him. "That's all."

Newt's demeanor changed. He took a deep breath and released it while keeping his eyes closed.

"Okay," Newt said quietly. "I went to see my sister, Sonya. Remember her?"
    Thomas smiled, "Yeah, the girl from your District. So I was right when I thought you two looked alike."
"You—it doesn't matter. Yeah, she's my sister," Newt said. "You were right; congratulations."
"Eh, nothing to be proud of. Anyone could have seen it. Although her last name does make it difficult to guess," Thomas said.
    Newt chuckled, "Yeah, a small perk of having different fathers."

Thomas was about to comment on it, but something Finnick had mentioned made him change his line of thinking at the last moment.

    "She's the reason you volunteered..." Thomas uttered, connecting the dots. "She got selected, and then you asked to switch with the chosen victor."
    Newt gave him a sad smile. "Bingo."

Thomas understood why he did what he did. It was sweet that he cared for his sister that much to put himself through this hell again, but part of Thomas wanted to shake Newt and tell him that he was an idiot for coming back again. He chose to let Newt be. There was no point in screaming at him when he had already made his decision.

Thomas kept quiet. Newt and he relaxed, letting the soft couch envelop them and the calmness of the night fall. Some of his tiredness returned, and Thomas lowered himself further until he could put his feet on the table. Since Newt felt like talking, Thomas thought that maybe it was a good time to ask him about a part of his past.

    "Can I ask you one more question?" Thomas told him. "Promise it's the last one."
    Newt licked his lips and uttered, "I guess."   

There was still one thing Thomas wanted to know, and he hoped Newt would answer honestly. Ever since he heard of his games, there was one small detail that never fit well with the whole narrative.

    "How did you win your games, Newt?" Thomas asked, his voice growing tired as he fought the instinct to fall asleep on the couch.
    "I killed the others? That's how you win the games, Thomas," Newt answered.

Thomas tilted his head upward slightly to be able to see Newt. The tribute of nine appeared to be more tired than Thomas had anticipated. Maybe he wasn't the only one who couldn't sleep that day.  He should get his answer so they could rest.

    "No, I mean—how does a twelve-year-old kid outsmart and kill tributes older and wiser than him?" Thomas asked. "Everyone says you did something to balance the scales in your favor."
    "Tommy, why do you want to know?"
    "I'm just curious. We might die in a few days in that arena. What does it matter if I know your secret?" Thomas uttered.
    "It's not a pretty story," Newt said.
    "I know. I don't expect it to be," was Thomas's answer.

Newt tilted his head to the side and downward to look Thomas in the eyes. He waited a moment to answer, but when he did, his voice was barely above a whisper.

    "I was a kid. I was put up against people with more strength and experience than I had," Newt said.

He turned his head to look up ahead. Thomas noticed how he swallowed the lump in his throat, the memory still painful for him.

    "But, that also meant that no one took me as a serious threat. They believed that the scrawny and tall kid of nine was nothing but an easy kill," Newt explained, "they believed that they could use me, that all I wanted were allies to survive. They never thought I would turn them against one another."

He had been the victor of his Games, yet Newt was clearly not proud of what he had done if his tone was any indication. He still had a heart underneath all that smug exterior. One that was still bleeding from the Games.

    "I made them paranoid. I planted so many lies that made them think their allies were just waiting to betray them. All I had to do was act as if I was telling only them the truth and provide some small evidence so they could survive," Newt's voice turned eerie, as if the ghosts of the past tributes were there with them. "When the Games started, I ran in the opposite direction while everyone spilled blood in the cornucopia."

Thomas had heard the stories. Never had the heart to see the recordings because everyone said it was brutal. His friends would talk about how one of the tributes head was chopped in half within the first five minutes or how one of them had their legs broken before he was executed.

    "Only three of us remained after the bloodshed. One girl from District Five, one boy from District Seven, and me," Newt said. "While they were hunting each other, I snuck back to the cornucopia."

Newt finally focused his gaze on Thomas again. The façade of the confident victor broke down, allowing him to see Newt for who he was: just another kid like him, but one who had been forced to be cruel in order to survive.

"I wasn't particularly strong, of course. But I was good at throwing knives, so that's what I retrieved from the sea of corpses and weapons." Newt took a shaky breath. "I found them that night. The girl from District Five had the guy from District Seven on the ground. I could have helped him, but I didn’t. I hid and let her kill him."

Newt's eyes started to get glossy. He was taking more pauses to tell the story. Thomas was about to tell him to stop, but then he thought that he didn't know if Newt had ever talked about this with anyone and that maybe he needed to let it out.

    "It finally came down to only us. She was desperately trying to find me. The adrenaline was probably pumping through her veins just as much as it was in mine," Newt chuckled, but it lacked amusement. "From where I was hiding, I lifted the knife with a shaky hand, and before I could lose my nerve, I threw it. It landed on her shoulder and all it did was piss her off more."

Newt mimicked the motion of throwing the knife, his mind transporting him back to that day in the arena.

    "She advanced while I begged her to stay away. I—" Newt swallowed again, his chest rising and falling faster. "I didn't want to kill anyone, Thomas. It's a horrible feeling, but I didn’t want to die either."

The tears finally rolled down his face. Newt would have to relive that tomorrow. He would be forced to take more lives, and Thomas wished he could somehow prevent him from doing it.

    "I only had one knife left when she finally caught me. I don't know how I did it, it's honestly all blurry, but when I opened my eyes again..."
    "She was dead," Thomas finished for him. "You stabbed her in the throat."
   
Newt bit down on his bottom lip to the point that Thomas feared he would draw blood. Newt drew his knees closer, hugging them to ground himself.

    "It's not something you can easily live with, Thomas," Newt told him, his voice breaking and shaking. "I still have days where I dream that I'm pressing down on her throat to stop the bleeding while I apologize."

Thomas sat up straight, getting close to him. He placed his arms around Newt and brought him in for a hug because it's all he could think of. Newt had so many demons inside of him, and Thomas didn't have the solution for them, but he did know that at least he could try to help him fight them.

    "I didn't get away unscathed," Newt said, his voice muffled by their hug. "She managed to hit me in the leg, and now-"
    Thomas tried to shush him, to stop the memories from flowing, "It's okay, Newt. It's enough."
    However, his pleas fell on deafened ears. "I didn't even want to celebrate my birthday the next day. I haven't... ever since that day, all this year I've never-"

Newt broke down. Thomas felt his own tears building up. He had always felt too much, cared too strongly about those he met. Seeing Newt, the real Newt come out was bound to hurt his sensitive heart. Neither of them was built for such brutality. Thomas was sure the other tributes were in the same boat as Newt.

The thought made him angry. He was tired of the Capitol. He was so, so tired of it all. However, right now, Newt needed his attention more.

    "I don't know how. I don't even know if it will be possible," Thomas whispered, "but I swear to you, we both will make it."
    "Thomas, that's—"
    "I don't care if you think it's impossible. I'll make it possible. Just please promise me that you will try to believe it too," Thomas told him.

He carefully snuck his hands around Newt's shoulders, Doe eyes meeting the calm brown of the other. He softly squeezed the area as he kept eye contact with Newt.

    "We will survive. Tomorrow we will make the Capitol finally look at us and then... then we are going to win the games," Thomas said. "We will do it and if I can, I'll see that your sister makes it out alive too."
    Newt chuckled, this time genuinely, "That's too optimistic, Thomas."
    "Wouldn't hurt you to be so for one night, right?" Thomas countered.

Newt's lips formed into a smile that made his glossy eyes crinkle. He looked handsome, tears falling on his cheeks or not, Newt was really pretty when he smiled.

    "I guess it wouldn't," Newt admitted and then added, "I'm glad you were the one I would be stuck with if it wasn't going to be my sister."
    "The feeling is mutual," Thomas responded.

Even if it wasn't possible in the end, or if they made it but were forced to kill one another, at least Thomas was glad that one of his last nights was shared with someone like Newt. He was happy that he had managed to help him out for once.

---

Something was poking Thomas's leg and it annoyed him so much that he kicked it away. He wanted to keep sleeping. Whatever he was hugging was so soft and it smelled like a mix of floral scents and earthy tones from a cologne. It transported Thomas to the fields and the smell of the woods. Feeling so comfortable in his slumber, he buried himself deeper in the soft material.

    "Thomas. Newt. Come on guys, wake up," a sweet voice whispered.

Thomas recognised that voice, but could hardly pinpoint where he had hear it before. Whoever it belongs to, Thomas now registered that it was also the entity that pa's poking him in the leg.

    "Just five more minutes," Thomas uttered in a deep groggy voice.
    "We don't have five minutes. The interviews are going to be pretty soon, we need to get you two ready an prepare," the voice reasoned with him. "Newt, you too. Come on."

The interviews, the games, right. I have to do that, don't I? Thomas calmly thought, and then his mind caught up. The games! The interviews!

A joined groan was heard across the room. Both Newt and Thomas opened their eyes, Newt lifted his head from atop Thomas's while the other looked up at him. Somewhere around last night, they had managed to fall asleep on the couch; Newt was still sitting relatively straight, but had leaned slightly trowards Thomas, who had turned completely sideways in order to hug Newt's arm while he rested his head on his shoulder and threw one of his leg across his.

Thomas and Newt took one look at one another, processed what was going on, and quickly jumped away. From each corner of the couch they glared at Brenda who had a smile on her face that Thomas didn't like. It was the same smile from the other day.

    "Get your asses up and ready, we have to prepare you guys for the interviews," Brenda said.
    "Yes, and I have a lot of work to do with both of you," Jorge said appearing beside Thomas.

Thomas screamed and pressed himself further against the couch while he kept his hand over his beating heart.

    "Now, who wants me to apply them their makeup first?" Jorge uttered next.

Thomas looked at Newt, terrified of what Jorge had prepared today, Newt did much the same.

---

The crowd cheers, the lights shined down on the stage, and somehow Caesar is managing to conduct the ceremony despite some of the harsh comments the Districts have been saying lately. Thomas doesn't know where all the courage has come from, but most of the Tributes have been throwing passive aggressive comments on Snow's choice for this year's hunger games. Even Aris, from district one which should be one of the most docile Districts said something about it.

The air is filled with the thick tension that has been building up. The only relief they had was Finnick's poem for his love in District four, but even that felt like a middle finger to the Capitol. With each tick of the clock, Thomas feels dread creeping up his skin as he awaits his turn and wonders what he will say.

These were his last few moments of freedom, and he had to spend them parading around a stage while everyone was so tense. Brenda had given them some pointers for some of the possible questions Caesar would ask. As long as he sticks to the script, they should be fine.

However, that was if he could control his growing discomfort and mask that his neck hurt from the position he slept in or that he was  itching everywhere because Jorge shoved him into the most uncomfortable neck shirt ever. At least the pants made his legs look longer and elegant, unlike the usual mess of limbs they were.

Newt was in a similar position, at least mentally speaking, but he was a completely different story in terms of looks. In the beginning, he had to agree with him when Jorge presented the semi-transparent dark long-sleeved shirt with an ivy pattern to him. The thing looked too revealing, and Newt was ready to defend himself with the closest kitchen knife. But now that he could see him in the outfit, Jorge was right. The shirt gave away just enough that you would have a glimpse of his fit build but not enough that Newt would regret it later. The equally black pants matched perfectly, and the light makeup he applied on Newt made him look gorgeous.

    "Newt? You look... great," Sonya, his sister, said as she approached them.

The way Newt immediately relaxed and switched to his sibling nature was cute. With not much to do while they caught up, Thomas stood awkwardly to the side, awaiting for them to finish their conversation but not daring to interrupt it because they seemed to be having a good time. He did focus on looking for Teresa, though. If Sonya were here, it meant that she should be nearby, and he still needed to talk with her again.

    "Uh, Sonya, Thomas. Thomas, my sis," Newt uttered, pushing her closer. Sonya waited for Newt to say something first. "It's okay; he knows you're my sister."
    Thomas extended his hand. "Nice to meet you."
    Sonya took it. "Same."
    "Uh, I hope you don't mind me asking, but... where is Teresa?"
    "She's still fixing her hair. She should be here any minute," Sonya explained.

She was probably buying as much time as possible to avoid Thomas. He wasn't surprised, but it was still pretty childish of her, in his opinion, to not let him express how he feels before going out of her way to sacrifice her life.

    "And now. You guys used to love him. He has been lying low for a while, but he's here now and ready to respond to all of the recent gossip about him," Caesar said and turned to point in their direction to the side of the stage. "Newt! Ladies and gentlemen."
    Newt sighed. "Wish me luck."

He slowly walked onto the stage, waving to the crowd with his usual charming grin already on display. Newt stood beside Caesar, towering over the man with an air of elegance that only he seemed to carry.

    "Newt! How have you been? It seems like yesterday since we last saw you," Caesar uttered before putting the microphone close to Newt.
    Newt smiled, looking briefly at his feet before facing the crowd. "I'm doing great, don't you think? Don't I look good tonight?"

The crowd cheered and whistled as Newt showed off his outfit, masterfully avoiding the question and leaving  Caesar no other option but to laugh alone.

    "That you do, that you do," Caesar said as he clapped Newt on the back and laughed. "But—and I hope you don't mind me asking—are the rumors true?"
"I've heard a lot of rumors, but do tell, and maybe I'll oblige tonight and tell you the truth," Newt said confidently.

The crowd joined in again. Despite his time away, Newt lulled them under his spell without a problem. He was a natural on the stage, and Thomas couldn't tell if it was just a Newt thing or if it was part of being a tribute.

    "A little bird has told me..." Caesar got close, covering his mouth as if he was going to whisper the secret to Newt but kept the microphone in place. "That you have found love with your new District companion from Eleven."

The crowd melted at the cute prospect of Newt's love life. Newt, on the other hand, was suddenly out of his element. He chuckled nervously and spared a glance back at Thomas, who was similarly lost. Where did they get that? I don't think of him like that. Sure, Newt is handsome, but... no, I don't think of him in that way.

   "So, Newt?" Caesar asked.
   "Uh..." Newt laughed nervously again. "You see..."

The reflectors and cameras now all focused on Newt. The Capitol awaited his response as both Newt and Thomas wondered what to say next.

Notes:

Last peacefull chapter before the bloodshed (if things go as planned) Enjoy!

Chapter 7: The Quartel quell.

Newt was taken by surprise by Caesar's question while the crowd still awaited hearing his response. Seconds turned into minutes of silence that only served to heighten the expectations for his response. Who and when had those rumors even started, Thomas didn't know, but what mattered right now was giving the right answer.

    Newt collected himself, something in him switching to the persona he created for the Capitol, "You got me."
    "Oh? Hear that, folks," Caesar said, turning briefly to the public. "Love is blooming in the Capitol. Why did you two decide to keep it a secret?"
   
Instead of answering, Newt spun around and extended his hand to invite Thomas onto the stage with a simple motion of his fingers.

Thomas froze for a second, barely giving Sonya a glance before he forced himself to move before panic settled in. As soon as he was under the spotlights, Thomas's gaze fell first on the people of the Capitol. There wasn't a single row that looked at him in wonder or interest like they did with someone like Peeta or Katniss, but at least they didn't look disgusted. That was already a good sign for him. I can do this, I just have to smile like Newt, Thomas thought.

Another glance, this time to the tributes, and he saw that most of them looked at him differently. There was amusement in their stares, and not of the good kind. They were probably expecting to see a disaster unfold. Click clack, click clack, the sound of his own steps became so loud and annoying  as doubt crept into his mind.

    Caesar's voice broke for a second through his state of panic, the commentator sounding desperate, "Uh—Newt, we don't tend to have two tributes—"
    "Aw, come on, Caesar. You wanted a story, didn't you? How do you expect me to tell it alone?" Newt said.

Just follow Newt's example. Calm down, Thomas chanted in his mind to maintain a certain degree of decorum. He didn't like all the stares, all the attention; He hated it. Every time he was under the scrutinizing gaze of the Capitol, he would sweat and be overly conscious of how he walked and talked. He felt small and insignificant, as if he didn't belong.

    "Are you ok, love?" Newt asked.

Despite his sweet and caring tone and the hand carefully placed on his bicep, Newt's eyes told him the real intentions. Follow along. Because that's all this was. A game. They where here to sell the Capitol a story they might empathise with and if there was one thing anyone could resonate with, was love.

    "Yeah, I'm fine," Thomas said in the most even tone he could muster.

The crowd swooned at their simple display of care. Caesar smile returned when he saw that at least one side of the room was interested in their show, but Thomas was more concerned with the stares on his back.

He was brave enough to look at the tributes once more and of course his eyes had to fall on Finnick. The victor of four raised a single eyebrow at him, probably not expecting him to do something so low as to try to do a terrible imitation of Katniss and Peeta. With a small flush, Thomas turned his head back around.

    "Aren't they cute? So, guys. Someone saw you at a party looking quiet in love and you have been the latest sensation ever since," Ceasar's explained.

The screen behind the tributes changed, showing the crowd the two sitting on the steps as they chatted. It was probably taken while they waited for Brenda to pick them up, and sure they looked to be having fun, but Thomas would hardly call that being in love.

    "So the question still stands. Why? What drove you to hide your love for one another?" Caesar asked. "Maybe Thomas can give us the answer, don't you all think so?"

Caesar shoved the microphone in his direction. Thomas was at a loss for words until he felt Newt's fingers intertwining with his. Thomas turned to his friend, amazed once more that Newt could convey so much with a simple look. "Say whatever you need. I'll help you," was what Thomas understood from that brief exchange.

However, what could he say? Whatever was about to come out of his mouth had to be something both believable and interesting enough. It took his brain a moment, but something clicked, and he was suddenly not so afraid of Caesar.

    "We thought it was for the best. I mean, look at us," Thomas said.
  
Caesar laughed but proceeded to look confused. He even expressed it when Thomas didn't elaborate. He had seen Newt do the same performance over and over again. Thomas had confidence that he could also trick the Capitol.

"One winner from District Nine and a nobody from Eleven," Thomas uttered, his eyes always on Newt. "Two worlds apart. We didn't expect to like each other, but... it happened, and I'm happy that it did."

The crowd awed. A funny thought crossed Thomas's mind in that moment. It would have been harder to pretend if it wasn't Newt. He might not love him in that way, but he had come to appreciate and care for him in the last few days. If he had to die pretending he was in love with someone, he thought there was no one better than him.

    Thomas squeezed Newt's hand, and he reciprocated it. "I just wished..."
    "What is it, Thomas?" Caesar asked, his cheerful tone disappearing for a more compassionate one. "You can tell us."
    "I just wish I would have met him in better circumstances," Thomas said, bringing Newt's hands to kiss the back of them. "But even if the Games are to extinguish our lives... at least I'm happy it burned alongside his until the last moment."

The crowd was silent. Even Caesar had nothing more to add. Thomas kept his eyes on Newt, knowing that seeing anything or anyone else now would be too much. Besides, whatever was going on in Newt's stare was far more alluring. The stage lights danced in those deep, dark pools that could show so many emotions. He had seen him express discontent, annoyance, and happiness with them, but whatever was happening around in his eyes right now, Thomas couldn't comprehend it. It was as if melancholy and tenderness waltzed in an attempt to merge together. It was mesmerizing, yet terrifying.

   Caesar shook his head, coming out of his own trance to put on the mask he wore every day  for work. "Newt and Thomas, ladies and gentlemen! Our tributes from districts nine and eleven!"

Applause boomed around the building as the crowd gave them a standing ovation. Newt was brought to reality by it. He used their interconnected hands to lift their arms into the air, and that made the people of the Capitol go even wilder than before.

Thomas pulled Newt towards where the other victors were standing and applauding. They took their place beside Finnick, letting their hands go once they were in their respective spots. Thomas missed the warmth and security Newt gave him, but at least it lasted long enough to get him out of the spotlight.

"Quite the story," Finnick whispered to them while he remained looking ahead. "I almost believed it."
    "Good thing we don't care about what you think, Finnick," Newt snapped back with far more force than needed.
    The remark made Finnick look at Newt. "A bit harsh, but you have never been the most friendly."
    "Maybe it's because none of us are friends, Finnick. You have never cared for anything or anyone that is not your secrets and Annie," Newt hissed back, now looking at him. "So how about we stop pretending?"

Newt spoke with so much anger that even Thomas was taken aback by his behavior. Finnick was, for the first time, at a loss for words or smug smirks. He pressed his lips into a thin line and looked at Newt with the same thing he had just accused him of lacking: care.

Newt's chest heaved, his nostrils flaring as he tried to calm himself. Thomas had never seen him be that angry out of the blue. He was worried about him.

    "Katniss Everdeen, everyone!" Caesar suddenly announced.

Thomas returned his attention to the stage, noticing that Katniss was making her way to the stage in what looked to be a wedding gown. He frantically searched for Teresa. She should have been next after them, but when he looked at the spot in front of him where she should be, he found only Sonya.

He wanted to ask her about Teresa, but his mind reminded him of his friend in that moment. As much as it pained him not being able to know where she was or be able to speak with her, Newt needed him more right now.

Reaching slowly for his forearm, Thomas wrapped his fingers around it. The contact made Newt flinch, but when he looked down and then up to see who it was and found Thomas's worried look, he visibly relaxed.

    "Are you okay?" Thomas mouthed at him.

Newt nodded and offered him a soft smile. Thomas thought that even if he didn't look so angry anymore, he could do with some emotional support. With a bit of fear and not knowing if it was the right thing to do, but wanting to let Newt know he was there to help, he snuck his hand further down, and this time when his fingers interlocked with Newt's, he didn't flinch. He accepted it and squeezed back when Thomas did the same.

Their attention went back to the stage where Katniss was now spinning. Her wedding dress caught fire while she spun around like a mesmerizing fire tornado. The white was replaced slowly by black, turning the dress into something completely different. Once she faced the public, Katniss raised her hands up, revealing a pair of wings attached to the dress.

The crowd loved it. Their ovation was ten times louder than the one for Newt and Thomas. He couldn't place what Katniss reminded him of until Newt spoke again.

    "A mockingjay," Newt whispered. "Snow won't like that."

Just as with them, the applause slowly died down as Katniss made her way beside Thomas's. She looked in their direction and then at their joined hands. Katniss gave Thomas a ghost of a smile while he gave her a more genuine one. The two of them appeared to be in more similar situations than he had ever thought possible.

Peeta was the last one on stage. Just like Katniss, he had the entire auditorium looking at him as Caesar asked him if he regretted not being able to get married to his beloved Katniss. Thomas expected him to do something similar to him and declare his love for her. Instead, Peeta had something better in store.

    "We actually got married. In secret," Peeta uttered while the crowd gasped.
    "A secret wedding, alright. Do tell," Caesar said, placing the microphone for Peeta to speak.
    "We wanted our love to be eternal," Peeta responded.
    "Cool," was Caesar's quick response.
    "You know, Katniss and I... we've been luckier than most. Well, maybe not everyone..."

Peeta spared a glance at them, the crowd understanding the implications of his words, causing them to murmur as Newt and Thomas were briefly brought back to being the center of attention.

    "But, still, I wouldn't have any regrets if it weren't... Uh..." Peeta said, making even Thomas await his next words.
    "If it weren't? What? What? What?" Caesar urged him to speak.
    Peeta took a breath and finally let it out, "if it weren't for the baby."

Thomas turned to Katniss, maybe hoping she could clarify what had just come out of Peeta's mouth. He couldn't tell if what he had said was true or not because Katniss looked genuinely shocked. However, it didn't matter if it wasn't.

The crowd did something far more out of character for them. They called for the games to be canceled. Everyone shouted in one voice to stop the madness and save them. Bunch of hypocrites, Thomas thought. They suddenly care? Now? Not when a bunch of teenagers stood before them ready to die. They care because it's an unborn baby.

Newt seemed to think the same as he did. His glare was hard and cold, his jaw clenched shut, and he looked positively murderous.

Their shouts and Caesar's attempts at controlling the situation were interrupted by the power being cut out of nowhere, leaving all the tributes and guests in the dark.

---

In the end, they were escorted out by the Peacekeepers while the crowd evacuated the building. The games were obviously not called off, which meant that tomorrow could finally be the day of reckoning for him and the rest. Maybe that's why today's dinner tasted so bittersweet.

Brenda and Jorge had stopped to dine with them for the, possibly, last time. Hearing them talk and bicker throughout the dinner were some of the few moments of the day that he could stop thinking about the games. He was thankful for her. Brenda was the best mentor he could ever have asked for.

Turning on his bed, Thomas told himself that he should sleep and get some strength in his body for tomorrow. It was easier said than done.

Three soft knocks on his door caught his attention. For some reason, his stupid mind thought that it might be other tributes coming to finish the job before tomorrow, so he kept quiet. He would have continued in silence if Newt hadn't spoken first.

    "Thomas? It's me," came the muffled voice of Newt from the other side of the door.
    "Come in," Thomas said immediately.

The door clicked open. He could barely see him in the dim light of his room, but Newt peeked his head inside first, searching for Thomas and finding him on his bed.

    "Hey," Newt whispered.
    "Hey," Thomas whispered back.
    "Do you mind if..." Newt asked, pointing at the empty space on his bed.

Thomas scooted over slightly and patted the spot. Newt finally stepped into the room, looking sheepish as he approached the bed and allowed himself to flop down beside Thomas. He lay straight like a plank, hands over his ribcage as he looked up to avoid Thomas lying on his side beside him.

Thomas waited. Newt clearly had a lot on his mind, just like him; but if he had come all the way here, it was because he had something to say.

    "How are you feeling about tomorrow?" Newt asked him.
    Thomas hummed, "Great. I was wondering if I'll die by an arrow or maybe a spear to the chest." He joked.
    Newt frowned, turned his head to him, saw his stupid smirk, and chuckled, "Both great options. What about an axe or sword to the neck?"
    Thomas scrunched his nose, "Too painful if they don't do it in one clean cut."

Both kept their serious expressions for a moment before they burst into giggles. Maybe it wasn't the best thing to joke about, but nothing in their situation was normal, and being able to joke around felt good to Thomas.

    "You couldn't sleep?" Thomas asked him.
    "Yeah. I thought it would be easier the second time, but apparently, it's not," Newt said. "Thought you might be in the same boat."
    "I am. I guess it's not meant to be easy. Falling asleep as if tomorrow..." Thomas couldn't bring himself to say it. It would be too real, and he was already worried.
    "Yeah," was Newt's only response.

Thomas felt the crushing reality overwhelm him. He didn't want to cry, not in front of Newt, who had clearly come here to seek comfort, not give it. But it was hard. He had been pushing the thoughts of the game to the back of his mind as much as possible because knowing that tomorrow might be his last day was something he shouldn't be thinking of. No one should be forced into this situation.

    "Tommy..." Newt called.
    Thomas realized he had closed his tear-prickled eyes, so he opened them and was greeted by Newt looking at him. "Sorry."
    "Don't apologize," Newt said and then swallowed, his mood shifting. "I—your company is why I came here, but... I also have something I want to tell you."
    Swallowing his fear, Thomas asked, "What is it?"

Newt sighed and turned to his side to face Thomas. Doe eyes met once more with Newt's expressionless gaze. Even in the dead of the night and the darkness of his room, Thomas could see the conflict behind them.

    "We have to protect Katniss," Newt whispered.
    Thomas frowned, thinking back to the words Aris had said. "Is this because of what—"
    "No. Not Aris. Finnick. That's why he's been pestering me since we arrived," Newt admitted. "He wants to keep Katniss and by extension Peeta alive from all the tributes that aren't in for..."

Thomas waited, but Newt seemed afraid of saying the next words. There was obviously more to what Finnick had been orchestrating behind the scenes.

    "In on what, Newt?" Thomas pressed.
    "The revolution. Thomas... whatever or whoever Finnick is working for, it's clearly on a mission to attack the Capitol," Newt said. "He wanted me to leave you out of it. Said you were... too soft. Too easy to trick."

Thomas had been told that, but knowing it came from Finnick, whom he thought at least respected him, hurt. He tried not to show it, though.

    "But I won't. I don't know the full plan, but helping him keep Katniss alive is our ticket out," Newt said.
    "Do you really think we can face the Capitol? They'll crush us!" Thomas said.
    "I-" Newt gathered himself and uttered the next words with all the confidence he could muster. "Maybe not this time around. People are tired, Thomas. Snow doesn't have as much control as he thinks. Not anymore."

The way Newt spoke let Thomas know that he believed it. That he was hopeful for this plan and the future. That maybe they could survive it. Thomas found that he believed him.

    However, Thomas, with his ever-loving heart, had to think of others first. "What about Minho? Or Teresa?"
    "Tommy-"
    "No one deserves to die, Newt. And I've seen that you get along with him well enough for you to tell me you hate him," Thomas reasoned. "And I don't want Teresa to die either. Plus, the more in on the plan, the more we can pretend and survive longer until... whatever needs to happen happens."
    Newt sighed, and Thomas knew he'd won. "I do like the bloke. He has a good heart."
    "Good," Thomas said, happy to hear that Newt could admit it.
    "So? You're in?" Newt asked.
    "Of course. It's better than trying to survive just the two of us," Thomas said.
    "Not having a lot of confidence in me, huh?" Newt joked. "Minho and Sonya will be easy, but you will have to convince Teresa. I don't know if we can trust her like that."

Thomas knew that, but he still wanted to try. She had gone through enough, and if there was a chance to give her a better life, then he would do it.

    "Let's do this then. You, Sonya, Minho, Teresa, and me. Let's get out of here," Thomas said, feeling hope rise in him for once.
    "Let's get out of here, Tommy," Newt answered.

---

It took a lot of planning, but yesterday's talk in his room solidified Thomas's belief that they could make it. Newt and he spent the majority of the night discussing what to do, so even now as he walked to the platform that would take him to the arena, Thomas felt ready to face what was about to happen up there.

Despite having a few hours of sleep, he felt oddly awake and well-rested. Which was good considering that he didn't even remember when he fell asleep beside Newt in that bed. He should stop doing that. He was glad Newt hadn't brought up his habit of hugging him like a koala the two times they slept beside each other.

    "I'm just going to talk with him. It will be quick."

Thomas spun around and found Brenda making her way towards him after the guards let her through.

    "Brenda? What are you doing here?" Thomas asked.
    Brenda smiled, "Wow, you almost sound happy to see me."
    Thomas rolled his eyes. "I might regret it now."
    Brenda giggled, "Figured. You didn't think I wouldn't say goodbye, did you?"
    "I thought that was part of all the hugging we did before coming here," Thomas said.
    "Yes, but there was one thing missing," Brenda uttered.

His mentor reached inside the pocket of her pants. Extending her hand and showing Thomas her palm, revealing a pin with Thomas's name underneath the word "victor" atop the symbol of his district.

    "A small gift from Jorge and me," she said. "Don't worry; Jorge is giving Newt his."

Stepping close to him, she started to work on pinning the pin on his chest while Thomas focused on her hands.

    "Brenda..."
    "Uh-uh, let me do the talking. We don't have much time," Brenda uttered. "I do believe you two will make it. But there's something that I need you to keep in mind."

She finished pinning the pin on his chest, patted it for good measure, and moved to adjust some imperfections on his clothes as she continued her speech. However, the next words were more hushed and carried much more weight than the previous ones.

    Without taking her eyes from her work, she said, "I know Finnick has recruited you two to protect Katniss, and while I encourage you to do so, I need you to do me a favor too.
    "Don't stay with him. If you can, take Katniss and Peeta away from Finnick; that would be amazing, but I won't push you to do it.
    Brenda was finally satisfied with her work on Thomas. Taking a step back, she continued, "All I need is for you to survive until the time is right.
    "What are you talking about, Brenda?" Thomas asked, finding his voice.
    "Find Aris. Stay together and find Aris. But get us Katniss if you can," she answered.

Any further questions were interrupted by the Peacekeepers pushing him onto the platform. Thomas was imprisoned by a tube; he banged his fist against the glass, his eyes focused on Brenda's back as she retreated and he ascended to the Arena. What did she mean? Who was she working for? Who should he and Newt trust? He couldn't survive without those answers.

Thomas finally reached the place he had dreaded since he hopped on that train. With his chest heaving, the smell of sea salt in his nose, and the sound of the waves splashing reaching him, he spun around and faced the Arena.

The cornucopia was in the middle of what appeared to be a lake with crystal clear water. Each tribute faced the cornucopia with their partner at their side. Looking at Newt, he found the same pin and expression he wore. Their attention was brought back to the cornucopia by the timer starting to count down. The games were about to start while he still decided what to believe in. 

Chapter 8: The first day.

"The games are about to start," Ava said as she joined Janson to watch Plutarch direct the Games and the staff of the Arena.

It all came down to this moment for both of them. Snow had been succumbing to the effects of the Flare the more Katniss presence in the capitol grew. He was desperate, angry and very much deranged at this point. Even whit their cares to halt the disease, it was advancing too fast. The games were their only hope to save him and themselves in the process.

    "That, they are. What have you gathered?" Janson asked her.
    "The infected subjects are responding as we expected. Newt and Alby had been showing signs, Ben is the one who has developed the fastest though, but they are all showing the early sintoms," Ava explained as she handed him the tablet with the information.
    "Every single one of them? Thomas? Sonya? The rest..." Janson asked as he looked through the files.
    "That's something I wanted to discuss with you. They seem... fine," Ava said.

Janson lifted his gaze to look at her. What Ava was implying would change their method of approach as well as their whole investigation.

    "Are you telling me that they are immune?" Janson asked with a quirked eyebrow.
    Ava cocked her head in his direction, "It's too early to tell, but it's possible."
    Janson looked back at the screen where they had now focused Thomas, "let's observe then. This might be our breakthrough."
    "I sure hope so. The cases around the capitol are growing and it's starting to be hard to contain them," Ava said.

She joined Janson in looking at the games. The hope that they could eradicate the disease before it grew back to its old days glory was the only thing they cared about beside their lives.

---

The Arena:

Ten. Thomas had ten seconds to reorganise his thoughts. What Brenda had said before his ascension to the arena was not to be taken lightly, but it was hard to decide when he only had ten seconds to do it. Who to trust? That was the question that will torment him the most in the next ten seconds.

Tick, the sound of the count going down drove Thomas back to the clock. Nine seconds, in nine seconds he will have to dive in the water and swim with all his might to reach the cornucopia and hopefully arm himself so him and Newt can escape and maybe bring Minho with them to explain everything.

Tick. Now there were only eight seconds. What would we even tell him? Thomas thought, because it was the truth. In order to get Minho and the rest on board, they needed to have one solid plan and story to tell. Perhaps if Brenda hadn't told them anything, then things would be easier cause they would only need to stick with avoiding Katniss while they made sure to protect her.

Tick. Thomas looked at Newt once more, but he wasn't paying him attention. He really wished he would, that way maybe he could get some insight or clue on what to do. Had Jorge given him the same speech as Brenda? Was Newt calculating what to do next just like him? The more he thought about it the more his anxiety grasped its claws around his neck; making breathing, thinking, moving the hardest tasks in that moment.

Tick. Calm down, just think, Thomas encouraged himself, so he looked around to gather as much information as he could. Thomas needed first to assess his opportunities of reaching the cornucopia. Katniss and Chuck were to their right, while Ben and Winston to their left, which meant that he only had to worry about District ten team. Chuck looked scared so he would probably either freeze in place or run away, Winston didn't seemed that strong during the training so Thomas hoped to reach the center before him. The only real threat left was Ben.

Thomas thought of all the information he could remember of him. His height gave him some advantage in the strength department, he had showed to have some dexterity with the sword, yet he was positive that he wasn't that liked by the Capitol's citizens, so he shouldn't receive that many gifts if he escapes the first bloodbath that was about to happen.

Tick. Six seconds were now four, Thomas was running out of time. What will he pick? Thomas squinted his eyes to try to see the weapons nearest to his side. Lady luck was on his side for now, at least. There was a crossbow and some arrows. He might not have Katniss precision, but he had grown use to the weapon and with the lessons from Newt about how to aim, he was sure he could use it.

Tick. Two more seconds. His heart rate spiked, making his blood pressure hammer against his ears like a drum. Whatever Brenda said, it could be discussed later, right now his only priority was to survive and decided his next move with Newt.

Tick. The count reached zero, the sound of the horn broke through the air indicating that they could move. Thomas reacted a split second after Newt had submerged. Taking a deep breath, he jumped in the water to catch up to him.

Thomas used the initial impulse from his dive to get as far ahead from the plate as humanly possible before he would need to switch to his arms and legs to move once he emerged. The water was so cold that every hair on his body stood at attention and he felt the chill reach his bones, but he fought it off in order to reach the cornucopia.

Thomas finally broke to the surface, taking a big breath to fill his lungs with the sweet sensation of air. He switched to propelling himself with his hands and feet as he observed that some of the tributes were already on land and fighting each other. The sight of them made him force his muscles to go faster, to be there first before Ben or Winston.

The water splashed around him, his vision switching between blurry and clear as he tried to keep the water out of his eyes. He had never felt more relieved than when he finally felt his hand come in contact with sand.

Thomas got out of the water, coincidentally looking to his right as Winston made his way out of it. The two locked eyes and knew that the first one to get their weapon would have the advantage. Unfortunately for Winston, Thomas was now on land and he was quite the runner.

Thomas was the first to reach the cornucopia between the two. He was happy when he saw that the crossbow was still in the same place and already loaded. He slid to his knees in the scorching sand and quickly attached the quiver to his hip, reaching for the crossbow next. When he turned around, he barely had time to move out of the way before a mace was swung in his direction.

Winston advanced on him, hitting the sand, the side of the cornucopia, or failing to hit Thomas as the other dodged and rolled out of the way.

It took a couple of failed attempts from Winston, but he finally got far away enough to get back on his feet. Thomas grabbed the crossbow and aimed at the off-balance Winston. He evened his breathing, focused on his target, but failed to press the trigger.

Winston was just a kid. He shouldn't have doubted himself, especially when he had just attacked him, but Winston was doing this because he had no other option and Thomas knew that.

His moment of doubt gave Winston enough time to regain his footing. With a battle cry, he advanced to try to hit Thomas again, while Thomas prepared to dodge and maybe hit him with the end of the crossbow to knock him out. That wasn't necessary in the end as Winston inhaled a breath that got stuck in his lungs. His eyes and pupils grew in size, and Thomas saw the fear of his life escaping his grasp cross his gaze. Winston fell to his knees and then flat on the sand; a spear had landed right on his back as he was distracted by Thomas.

Looking back up, he found Minho still in the position he had launched the weapon from. The tribute of five approached him, unstucking the spear from Winston.

    "Saw that you were in danger... was the only thing I could think of," Minho said with remorse in his voice. He was also not ready to kill, but had done so out of instinct.
    "S'okay. Thanks, come on, we need to get Newt," Thomas said, still a bit in shock.
    "Guys!"

Minho and Thomas spun around in time to see Newt motion for them to follow before he dived back into the cold water and headed in the direction of the beach. Minho and Thomas shared a glance and followed him after nodding at each other.

Minho submerged first. Thomas was about to follow when the sound of weapons clashing distracted him, and he saw Teresa struggling against Ben. His first instinct was to help her, however, Sonya was faster to come to her rescue. Newt's sister slashed Ben in the back, allowing Teresa to escape his grasp. Thomas saw how Teresa was about to finish the job if it weren't for Sonya stopping her. The girls ran in the opposite direction and away from the fight before Thomas could get their attention, so he thought it was best if he did the same and followed his group.

Thomas dived underwater and started to swim to get back to the guys. However, as he started to move, a projectile landed close to where he was. Spinning around, Thomas tried to see through the moving surface of the water. He might not see who it was, but they were definitely aiming at him. Turning back in the direction of the beach, Thomas went back to swim away, only for one of the projectiles to land on his right thigh as he was making it out of range. Whatever they shot at him was sharp enough to tear his clothes and damage the skin.

Thomas endured the pain, leaving a path of blood until he reached the beach. Gasping for air and groaning in pain, he dragged his body out of the water and sat up to assess the damage. Minho and Newt came to his aid, crouching beside him in a hurry when they noticed he was injured. The three observed the wound in hopes of seeing how they should treat it.

    "It looks superficial, but we don't know if the weapon was coated with something," Minho said.
    "Did you see what it was that they threw at you?" Newt asked.
    Thomas shook his head, "I was trying to get away. I couldn't even see who was the one shooting at me."
    "Let's hope it's just a cut. Come on, let's get off the beach so we are not an easy target," Minho said, already helping Thomas to his feet.

Each of them took one arm, allowing Thomas to keep most of his weight on the good leg until they made it to the jungle. Once they were there, Thomas was made to sit against a tree and Minho instructed Newt to keep pressure on the wound and look out for any unwanted visitors while he was away. Minho ripped a leaf from one of the closest plants and snuck back down to the beach while the other two waited.

Thomas decided that that was a good moment to figure out if Newt was told the same thing as him.

    "Heard you got a visit from Jorge," he uttered. "What did he tell you?"
    Newt looked him in the eyes first and then down to his chest, his fingers wrapped around the pin as he spoke, "Judging by the fact you also have a pin I would say pretty much the same."
    Thomas nodded, happy that at least they were on the same page, "What are we gonna to do? And what will we tell the rest?"
    Newt looked to the side, his eyes moving everywhere as he thought of all the possibilities, "Taking Katniss away from Finnick will be no easy task. But if you ask me... I trust Brenda far more than I do Finnick. Known her for longer too."

Newt never mentioned any of that. He thought that the first day in the capitol was his first time meeting Brenda.

    "You two did act like old buddies. Guess it makes sense that you knew her already," Thomas said.
    "Yeah. Met her when I was thirteen, back at my first capitol party after the games. I didn't speak to her a lot. Just a few words," Newt confessed. "But I kept seeing her throughout the years. That's how I knew she was genuine about her whole talk of being a mentor."

Thomas would have asked him more, but the rustle of someone approaching made them become alert of their surroundings. They only relaxed when they saw Minho coming back with the lift carefully on his palms as to not drop the water he had carried all the way over there.

    He crouched beside Thomas and spoke to him in what he could only describe as an older sibling's tone, "It's going to hurt. Seawater isn't the best thing to clean cuts, but it's what we have."

Thomas nodded. Newt removed his hands, and Minho carefully tilted the leaf above the wound, letting the water wash away any dirt while Thomas bit his lip and scrunched his face to suppress any sound caused by the stinging sensation. Once it was clean enough for Minho's liking, he handed Newt the leaf so he could wash his blood-covered hands with what was left in exchange for one of the throwing knives he had brought from the cornucopia.

    "What's that for?" Thomas asked, scared.
    Minho chuckled. "Relax, it's not to kill you or anything. We just need to bandage the wound, so..."

Thomas observed as Minho used the tip to tear a hole in the sleeve of his suit, right where the shoulder began. Giving the knife back to Newt, he pulled at the fabric, but it turned out to be more difficult with just one arm. Newt helped him out when he caught on to what he wanted to do. The two unattached the sleeve from the suit, and then Minho used it to wrap Thomas's wound, making sure the knot was secure but not tight enough that Thomas would lose circulation in his leg.

    "Alright, that should do it. But perhaps it's better if you don't put so much pressure on that leg," Minho uttered.
    "Thanks," Thomas said.
    Minho stood up and offered him his hand. "Don't mention it. I have four younger sisters, so I've helped with far more injuries than I thought possible."
   
Thomas got to his feet and followed Minho's instructions to let his leg heal. Now with their problem solved, the trio looked around at the surrounding jungle. Soft rays of sunlight snuck between the leaves, and the warmth of the environment was doing a good job of drying their wet clothes. So far, there was no sign of other Districts, which was good because Thomas wasn't so sure he could give it his best if he fought with a leg injury.

    "What now?" Minho asked.

Thomas looked at Newt to see if it was the right time. If they wanted to even try to get Katniss to come with them, then they would need Minho on their side. Newt shrugged, so Thomas took the initiative to start because Minho was looking suspiciously at him.

    "Has Finnick mentioned anything to you before coming to the Games?" Thomas asked. 
    Minho squinted his eyes, taken aback by his question. "Not really. I spoke to him like once. He didn't say much."

Newt and Thomas shared another glance, making Minho more suspicious of them, so Thomas rushed to fix it.

    "Would you like to get out of here alive?" Thomas asked.
    Minho frowned, "Obviously. What is this all about?"
    Newt sighed and explained for Thomas, "Finnick is planning to get us out of here if we can protect Katniss from all the other tributes that are not part of the plan."
    "Oh," Minho said. "Cool, but... how is he going to do that?"

Thomas opened his mouth to answer but found that he didn't know. That was a good question, but by logic, he guessed that whoever he was working with should be the one with a plan. Newt had mentioned that Finnick hadn't told him everything.

    "We don't know," Newt answered.
    "You don't know?" Minho uttered, his eyebrows raising to his hairline in disbelief. "Okay, that doesn't sound so good, you know."
    "W-we know, but it's our best option," Thomas said and then rushed to add, "unless you have a way to get out of here without killing everyone."

Minho turned his back to them. He went deep in thought, walking a few paces from them while he unconsciously toyed with the lance. There were a few scenarios Thomas thought could happen next: either Minho would accept their offer and join them, or he would think it useless, and Thomas would have a spear launched at his face in a few minutes.

    Minho placed the lance on his shoulder and finally turned to them. "Alright, I'm in."

Newt and Thomas let out a sigh of relief. Although there was still one minuscule detail he had forgotten to mention, if their alliance was to succeed, he thought it was better not to keep him in the dark.

    "Cool, there is... just one small detail we need to discuss," Thomas said.
    "Tommy..." Newt warned.
    Minho went back to squinting, lowering his spear to his side. "Go on."

It took a lot of back and forth between him and Newt, but he ended up accepting Thomas's point, so with his blessing, Thomas went on to explain everything to Minho. From the stuff they had seen around the Capitol, to Finnick's and Aris's odd behavior, and ending with Brenda's confession before they went up to the arena. The whole time, all Minho gave him were a few grunts and nods to let him know he was listening.

    "And you guys trust this Brenda more than Finnick. Correct," Minho said.
    Newt shrugged, "As far as I know, it's a safer bet."
    Minho looked at Newt, observing him with curiosity, "Why?"
    "Because Finnick doesn't really care for anyone who isn't his beloved, Anne," Newt uttered. "So I don't doubt he would use us as fodder as long as Katniss and he are safe. I don't think he cares for Peeta either."
    Minho crossed his arms. "Are you sure? I thought he had multiple lovers. Why would this Anne be so important?"
    "Because she is his true love, and everyone who knows him well enough knows that. Besides, the only other obsession he has is with secrets. He never approaches you for any other reason," Newt told him.

There was bitterness in Newt's tone, one that sounded similar to the way he spoke of Alby, but in a less aggravated state. Though he had to admit that he had never heard Newt speak that way about him, he was even the one who admitted to admiring him. Something about him felt off.

    "Right," Minho said slowly. "I suggest we take some time to decide. Brenda only told you guys to bring Katniss if possible, so I say we only do it if the chance presents itself."
    Thomas was about to argue when he realized that Minho was right. "That's... not a bad idea."
    Minho snickered. "Looks like you guys needed my amazing brain for your operation."

That made the trio smile. Minho had his own natural charm, just like Newt. Maybe it was his older brotherly side, but the guy had genuine intentions and a heart of gold. Thomas was glad to accept his offer.

    Minho balanced the spear against his body and brought his hands together with a clap. He rubbed them together, "Okay, now that that's decided, where should we move to next? I don't want to get caught by other tributes, not while his leg looks like a fillet."
    "I think I saw Katniss and her group go into the jungle  somewhere over there," Newt said, cocking his head in the direction he wanted them to go. "Let's follow them and look for shelter and maybe some food while we're at it."

They did as Newt suggested. Following through the jungle, the trio cut down a path with Minho in front, Newt in the middle, and Thomas in the back fighting with the mosquitoes. Now that they were dry, the sun wasn't so pleasant. Thomas was sweating as he walked, his skin feeling feverish, though he couldn't tell if it was the sun or if he actually felt sick. It also didn't help that he had to limp to keep his leg from suffering the consequences. Even so, his group managed to advance a good stretch of land before the sun started to set.

He was about to suggest taking a rest when the sound of a cannon being fired caught everyone by surprise. All three of them flinched, expecting some sort of attack to come from any flank. It wasn't until they saw the images in the sky that they understood what was happening. The Capitol was announcing the fallen tributes.

Thomas felt sadness in his heart when Winston's image came up. He looked down to see how Minho felt, but if he was remorseful for what he had done, he didn't show it. Up next was District Six's tribute, Trish, and finally, Cecelia from Eight.

Teresa is fine, he thought with relief. The last thing he needed right now was to see her image in the sky, at least not until he had tried talking her out of her suicide pact.

    "It's getting late. We should find a place to rest," Minho uttered, "and something to eat too."
    "You're right. Besides, my leg is starting to hurt. It could use the rest," Newt said. "We should also see who's going to take the first watch. I don't fancy getting jumped while I sleep."

Thomas looked down at Newt's hand on his thigh. He had mentioned not getting away unscathed from his fight back in his first Games. He wondered how bad it was.

They talked it out. First, they would find a place, then Minho and Newt would look for food. Thomas tried to protest, but one reminder of his leg and he shut up immediately.

The walk through the jungle as night settled was unnerving, but Thomas had decided that he would find them a place to sleep to make up for his lack of hunting skills. And that he did. His heart was filled with joy when he found a small clearing where they could set up camp and rest. Newt and Minho found it suitable too, so with their blessing, they began to settle in. Minho took the initiative to go hunting first and Newt promised to catch up after they had made some makeshift beds with some of the larger leaves they could find around.

Once Newt had taught him what to do, he left Thomas to make the other two beds so he could go help Minho. He followed Newt's instructions exactly as he had told him, feeling even proud when he saw the end result. All that in time to see Minho come back with Newt and their dinner. Thomas didn't have the heart to watch Minho skin the animal and then do all the extra work to clean it, but he was grateful when he was stuffing his face with the cooked meat—Newt was against the idea of a fire, but Minho promised him it wouldn't be used for long.

    "It's... a bit hard. What did you say it was again?" Thomas asked.
    "You don't want to know," Newt and Minho said in unison and fist-bumped afterward.

With their bellies full and somewhere to sleep, they decided who would be the first to take the turn of guard in the only responsible way possible: rock, paper, scissors. Newt lost so he was to be the guard, Thomas would take the next guard while Minho would do it the next day if they survived.

Getting on his temporary bed, Thomas closed his eyes and willed his body to rest despite his circumstances. Sleep did come easily to him, but it was the restless kind. His skin was so hot, Thomas tossed and turned, hoping to find some kind of comfort but failing to do so. He also felt weak. Just the act of moving was proving to be too much for him. He would have continued in his torment and even ignored Newt's voice calling for him, if it were not because he heard the panic dripping from his tone.

    "Guys, guys, come on you wankers, wake up!" Newt practically shouted.

Thomas and Minho bolted upright at the call of their names. Both turned around to check their surroundings and found a very panicked Newt picking up their stuff.

    Thomas tried to find out what was going on. "Newt, what–"

His words died in his mouth as the air sizzled and the ground was struck by the might of lightning. Thomas instinctively got to his feet, looking at the target of the storm. A tree was now split in half from top to bottom. He thought that it might have been just a coincidence, but suddenly the area around them started to vibrate with electricity and this time around, Thomas knew it wouldn't be just one.

    "Run," was the only warning he gave.

Thomas started to run away and in the direction they were heading, Newt and Minho caught up to him after a moment while strike after strike of lightning fell all around them.

    "We need cover or to get out of the Area!" Newt shouted to be heard above the sound of the storm.
    "There!" Minho said, finger pointing at a shallow cave not so far away from them, "that should shield us."

The 'cave' in question was more of a small hole on one of the hills around the area. It should be big enough to let all three inside and protect them from being struck by the lightning.

The trio rushed to get underneath it, but if Thomas was being honest, he didn't think he would make it. His breathing was coming in shallow gasps, his chest heaving and his leg was killing him. He also felt weak; each step felt like he would trip over if he didn't command his muscles to resist. They did their best but ended up failing him in the last stretch.

Thomas fell hard. His vision became blurry and his muscles tired as he tried to get back on his feet. The sizzling also returned; Thomas felt the impending doom of the lightning that was about to end his life. Newt and Minho were shouting at him—already in the safety of the cave—to get back up, to keep trying. He wanted to do it; he really didn't want this to be the end. But as soon as he managed to press his foot on the earth to lift himself up, he stumbled back down to the ground.

This is it. This is where I die, where his thoughts in that moment. Thomas braced to feel the impact in his body that would have left him charred and dead if it weren't for the strong hand that pulled him to his feet.

In a valiant effort to save him, Minho had gone out to pick him up, giving him the support he needed and helping him run back to where Newt was. Despite his tiredness, his body that was not working at the moment, and his fatigued muscles, Thomas ran. He ran like never before.

First came the sound. That deep, resonant crack split the air and made its presence known before the searing hot force of energy struck down the earth in one deadly hit. Thomas landed safely in Newt's arms. Minho wasn't so lucky.

---

Snow:

Three tributes dead. At least eight hurt, and the rest running around the jungle. They were mocking his games and ruining his dinner, all because the girl failed to do the most simple and basic of things.

He won't allow it. Katniss and her spark needed to die, but it had to be under the Capitol's terms. A fake secret wedding and an unborn child, both symbols of hope that made the rest sympathize with her while simultaneously spitting on his face in defiance. She needs to die, but he won't turn her into a martyr.

    Using only two fingers, he called for one of the assistants to approach, "call Janson and Ava. I have orders for them."
    "Uh, yes sir, but... I would like to remind you that they told us that you should—"

She never finished her sentence. In a fit of anger he couldn't control, Snow used his knife to slit her throat. Useless. I'm surrounded by incompetents, he thought. You are. Or maybe they are just waiting to be able to kill you. you should kill them all first. Kill. Kill. Kill, another voice in his head interrupted him.

Snow reached for the yellow tube of pills Ava had given her. Opening it quickly, he shoved two inside and swallowed. The drug took effect immediately, but not before the voice whispered one more sweet lie before it was gone, "Those pills are a lie."

"Clean this up and call Janson and Ava," Snow ordered to anyone left in the room.

While his guards cleaned up the mess, the screen showing the games split in two. Thomas and Katniss were shown on each side. One his cure, the other his doom. "Happy hunger games, Miss Everdeen, Mister Edison. I'll make sure that your deaths are of value."

Notes:

I hope this fic is being of y'all liking.

P.S. Sorry, Minho.

Chapter 9: The secone day

Notes:

Slight warning for this chapter, there might be a bit of a gore description in a certain part of the chapter, but nothing over the top.

Gently, Newt helped Thomas to a seat against the back of the cave, his words sounding muffled in Thomas's ears as he spoke to him before slowly backing away.

His ears rang, his muscles were tired and bruised, and if it weren't for Minho, he would be nothing but a charred corpse by now. Minho—what had happened to him? Thomas followed the direction in which Newt had gone. With some difficulty, he dragged Minho toward them. Was he dead? Had they sounded the cannon? Although even if they had, he wouldn't be able to hear it, Thomas reasoned as he lay limp against the wall and watched Newt drag Minho all the way over to them.

He watched as Newt pressed his ear against Minho's chest, searching for a heartbeat. His face said it all; there was no pulse. Using his hands, Newt began compressing Minho's chest in a rhythm to try to revive him while also giving him mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.

I'm sorry, let me help. It's my fault, Thomas repeated in his head as he fought against the tiredness. His eyes fluttered shut despite him commanding them otherwise. Don't die, please, were his last thoughts, Newt still pressing on Minho's chest the final image before he lost consciousness.

Thomas didn't wake up until he felt the gentle swing of his arm as he was being carried on someone's back. He had hoped to feel better after his rest, but his skin was still feverish and the wound on his leg was hurting more now. With a heavy guttural groan, he opened his eyes, flinching when the light of day landed in his iris.

Newt appeared in his field of vision, his eyebrows furrowed and lips pressed in a thin line. He was worried, and it was Thomas's fault. Whatever they had used back at the cornucopia to hit him when he was underwater was probably coated with poison or some kind of toxin that would only worsen his state until he finally died.

    "It's okay, just hang in there," Newt's voice was barely registered by him as he ran a hand through his hair. "We are almost there. We will get you your medicine."

We, Thomas focused on that small detail far more than the rest. Just now realizing that if Newt was the one in front of him, then that could only mean that Minho was the one carrying him. He hadn't died; Newt had saved him, and that gave Thomas such a sense of relief because he had thought that his death would be on his hands forever. Closing his eyes, Thomas went to sleep again.

◆◆◆◆◆

The breeze felt so comfortable against his skin, and the singing birds all around only added to his peace. The open blue sky surrounded by green trees greeted Thomas like every single time he had taken a break on that patch of grass in the middle of the forest back in his district, chilling after a long day of work.

"The day is nice. It's been a long time since we had winds like this," the owner of the voice let out with a content sigh.

Turning his head slightly, Thomas found Teresa seated close by with her back facing him. She had her knees tucked underneath her chin and seemed to be looking up at the pretty sky just like Thomas.

    "It is. What do you want to do today?" Thomas asked.
    "We could go and play with little Rue. She has been asking you to do it for a while now," Teresa answered.

Rue, he likes her. She is such a ray of sunshine and she always seems to enjoy Thomas's company. He supposes that it's been a while since he made the time to spend some with her. 

    "You could take her to the old house by the lake. We used to love playing hide-and-seek there," Teresa offered.

Thomas frowned. That house used to be a playground for a lot of the kids in the District. Thomas does remember playing there, but he doesn't remember Teresa.

    "You where always running ahead of us all," Teresa chuckled.

However, there was a girl much like her. He used to see her around a lot but didn't interacted with her until one summer when they were both stuck inside the house by sudden storm. He lost track of her after that summer.

    "Always leaving us behind," Teresa said. "Always running away."

She finally turned her head trowards him. Thomas jumped back when he saw the droplets of blood falling down her face from her hairline. Her voice filled with hatred and bitterness when she spoke again.

    "You're a coward," she spat with venom

◆◆◆◆◆

The first thing Thomas did when he awoke from his nightmare was to sit up. However, he hadn't anticipated that Minho would be hovering above him in order to check if he was still breathing. The result was the two colliding their foreheads and recoiling as they groaned and rubbed the sore spots.

   "Men, what the hell?" Thomas complained. "What the fuck were you doing?"
   "I was just checking that you were still alive. Fuck! What is your head made out of? Steel?" Minho groaned once more and laid flat on his back as the pain continued.
    A deep sigh to their left that belonged to Newt interrupted their fight, "Out of all the people to die with, I had to pick the only two bloody idiots."

The pain finally subsided which allowed him to think and see clearly. They had made another improvised bed for him. Newt was in the process of peeling something with his knife while propped on a nearby rock while Minho was closer to him, probably to keep an eye on him.

Minho stopped rubbing his forehead and sat up. Thomas got his first good look at him after he'd lost consciousness. Overall, he looked fine. That is, if you ignored the feathery-looking, fern-like pattern running down his arm and part of his neck, even reaching part of his jaw. It looked like...

    "Lightning," Thomas said absentmindedly as he reached out to touch it.
    "Pretty cool, right? It looks like a tattoo," Minho uttered proudly, showing Thomas his whole arm.
    Newt hopped off the rock and approached them as he spoke, "It's such a shame you won't live past twenty-five. I heard that's the case when you get one of those."
    "What?!" Thomas and Minho said simultaneously.

Newt stood with his arms crossed, serious as ever for a grand total of five seconds before chuckling and throwing what he had been peeling to Thomas, who almost didn't catch it.

    "I'm kidding," Newt said, getting close and flopping down beside Minho. "I don't really know if you will have any lasting effects. Hope not."
    "I do, too," Minho said, looking at his peculiar scar.

Thomas allowed a smile to sneak onto his face. Looking down, he noticed that Newt had peeled an apple for him. Where did he get this? He thought but found he didn't care because he was feeling hungry. Thomas munched on the treat while the other two discussed whether Minho would actually make it past twenty-five or suffer any repercussions. Apparently, he was 'too handsome to die' or something like that. Thomas didn't know, but he did want to figure out what happened.

Minho regarded a smug Newt, his mouth agape for a second before looking down and uttering, "You're joking. There is no way that it's going to affect my di-"
    Thomas cleared his throat to interrupt him before it was too late, "Can any of you tell me what happened?"

Minho shut his trap and looked at Newt in hopes that he would explain everything to Thomas. If he was being honest, he would also like that. Minho had been struck by lightning and he sick from the cut. If there was someone suited to retelling everything, that was Newt.

    "Let's see..." Newt looked up. "After I left you waiting in the cave, I went out to drag Minho under cover. His heart had stopped because of the lightning, so I tried to resuscitate him."
Newt extended his legs and leaned back on his hands, "As you can see, that worked. That's when I saw you were in pretty bad shape."
"He's been kind. You were pale as paper, sweating, with a high fever. Honestly, if it weren't for the sponsors, you would be dead," Minho added.
    "Sponsors?" Thomas asked.
    "I'm sure Brenda pleaded for your life. She got us a crate with some medicine and proper bandages. Plus a few extras," Newt uttered, pointing at the apple in his hand.

Thomas looked down at the bitten apple that was already turning brown in some spots. Brenda had really been there for him since day one, and now he owed her his life thanks to the medicine. Perhaps a thank-you is in order. She's been an angel with me since the beginning, Thomas thought.

    "Anyway, that's just half of it," Newt said more seriously.
    Thomas licked his lips and braced to hear the bad news, "What else happened?"
    "Two more tributes are dead. Mags, Finnick's ex-mentor. She died at one point while we where running from the storm," Newt said.

Thomas had seen her. She didn't appear to speak a lot, and even if he didn't manage to interact with her, Finnick was surely devastated by her lost since Thomas saw the two treat each other as if they were family.

    "Who's the other tribute?" Thomas asked.
    "Zart. He attacked us when we were close to the crate Brenda sent," Minho explained. "He was the one that used a dart to hit you underwater."

Minho procured the weapon Zart had used. A simple blow gun and a bunch of darts, although Thomas would doubt calling them that. The part that was supposed to stuck to your skin had multiple edges protruding from it that left no doubt in Thomas on how it managed to tear through the clothes and skin. The Capitol really invested in their weapons.

    "What happend to him?" Thomas asked.
    Newt pointed with his thumb at Minho, "got too cocky and Minho speared him."
    Minho cocked his trowards a tree not so far away from where they were, "His body got picked up from there not so long ago."

Newt stood up abruptly, and dusting his hands he placed them on his hips.

    "Anyway. Now that you're feeling better we should move. I think I saw Sonya and Teresa pass nearby," he moved to start to pick up their weapons. "We better hurry. They were going in Katniss's direction, so we better start moving."

With no further instructions the trio moved to pack their stuff and leave their resting place in search for Teresa and Sonya. The arena had far more surprises than they had anticipated, so the group didn't want to run into more unexpected trials.

Their trip through the vegetation of the jungle was uneventful for most of it, managing to move without any delays beside hearing some disturbing noises and some weird clouds Thomas saw in the distance. Newt explained him that ever since the thunderstorm, they have been hearing and seeing weird things like that each hour. Which is the reason why Newt wants to find his sister as fast as he can.

    "We better prepare. If fi-"

Newt's sentence was cut short as Minho pulled him back to avoid being hit by a sword. Ben appeared from his hiding spot, sword in hand and looking in a worse state than the last time Thomas had seen him. His eyes were bloodshot, his skin looked sickly and pale, and his hair was sticky and disheveled.

"Well, looks like it's our lucky day."

Thomas spun around to find Alby swinging a hammer right behind him. Gally showed up to their left afterward, effectively caging them on all three flanks. Minho already had his spear in hand. Thomas and Newt grabbed their weapons and each took one side to keep an eye on the other tributes.

    "What do we do?" Thomas asked.
    "Maybe we should tell them about the plan," Minho suggested.
"No!" Newt scoffed. "I won't take him with us."
    "Shut up," Ben growled. "What are you three talking about? Is it about us? You're planning what you will do, aren't you?"

There was something strange about Ben. Whenever he stopped addressing them, he would talk to himself. He would scratch his forearm furiously out of nowhere and look at them with so much hatred that Thomas would have believed he had somehow killed his mother and was looking for revenge.

    "Listen. You guys don't have to do this," Minho said. "We can get you out of here."
    "Minho," Newt warned.
    Thomas thought it was worth a shot, "Minho is right. Look, we can't give you guys all the details, but if you trust us, we can all survive. You're Gally, right? I'm sure you don't want to have to kill someone when you can have a way out of it."

The guy Thomas recognized as Gally from all the hours Brenda had forced him to analyze the other tributes seemed to think about what had just been said. Unfortunately for Thomas, Alby had to step in.

    "Are those the lies Newt has been feeding you?" Alby spat out. "You shouldn't believe everything that comes out of his mouth."
    "If there is someone here that lies, it is you!" Newt retorted. Alby clicked his tongue disapprovingly, "All these years, and you still hold a grudge because of that? You should have known better, Newt. But I guess you were desperate for attention."

That was the tipping point. Newt attacked Alby with one of his knives that he blocked with his hammer, thanks to pure luck. Ben also advanced to strike Minho, who retaliated back with his spear.

Thomas looked in Gally's direction. The tribute of seven looked at both sides, unsure of what to do or whom to aid. He turned back to Thomas, who shook his head slowly to indicate that he didn't want to fight. When he saw that Gally hesitated, Thomas looked between Newt and Minho. Ben was having a harder time dealing with Minho, so he chose to help Newt instead.

Alby had closed the gap between them and driven Newt away through the trees, swinging his hammer to try to hit him. His friend dodged or ducked the attacks, some landing on the ground, others on the trees around them, breaking the wood into splinters. This surprised Thomas because the hit had so much force that Newt couldn't have possibly survived it if he had been hit.

Their fight continued until Newt was cornered into an open space where he couldn't cower behind an object. Thomas was still a few steps behind, running at full speed in hopes of catching up. It was difficult to get a clean shot at Alby with all the trees in the way, but now he had an opportunity.

    "I'm going to break your legs first," Alby uttered in a dark, almost deranged tone. "And then I'm going to make you watch that kid from Eleven die before I actually kill you."

Newt's response was a knife directly to Alby's shoulder that didn't even make him flinch. Newt grabbed the next one and, while still backing away, threw it, landing on Alby's thigh without much of an impact beside a few seconds of pause before he grabbed the hammer with both hands and advanced.

Thomas finally reached the edge of the clearing right as Newt ran out of knives. Getting on one knee, he grabbed his crossbow and rushed to load it.

In the meantime, Alby landed a hit on Newt's stomach with the other end of the hammer, effectively knocking the air out of him before making him trip with a blow to his leg that made Newt howl in pain.

Now on the floor, Alby stood above Newt with a sinister smile on his face. He lifted his hammer in both hands, stopping midair as he looked pitifully at Newt.

    "You were never made for the Capitol, Newt. I'm going to do everyone a favor and get rid of you now," Alby spat.

Time came to a standstill. Thomas had known since he hopped on that train that this moment might come. He wasn't a hunter, a warrior, or a soldier. Death and killing to him were things that should be mourned, not perpetrated, yet here he was. If things were up to him, he would have preferred not to kill Alby, but the world was cruel and far from being on his side. However, he had found out that if his friends were in danger, he was willing to cross the line. What that said about him was something he would ponder later. Right now, he had a clear shot, but he had to make it count. Alby wasn't normal. He shouldn't have been able to walk without feeling pain with all the knives Newt had landed on his body. He needed to do something that would either kill or incapacitate Alby. 

Holding his breath, Thomas picked his target and willed his aim to be true. With a press of the trigger, he saw the arrow fly through the sky in slow motion until it pierced Alby's neck. Blood immediately filled his throat, and Alby pressed against the wound to stop the bleeding as he stumbled to the ground. The hammer was forgotten to the side, and his pleas for help came out as just gurgling sounds.

Thomas let his breath out, happy to see that Newt was safe despite regretting Alby's fate. Getting to his feet, he rushed to help his friend up next but stopped a few feet away from him when he saw Newt get up and grab the hammer. He straddled Alby's torso and lifted the weapon with both hands.

    "No, I will free this world of you," Newt spat out in hatred.

The first hit to Alby's head made Thomas flinch. Bones broke, and the crunching sound reaching Thomas's ears made him feel nauseous just listening to it. He thought Newt would stop there, that it was a mercy killing, but his friend continued.

    "Die," Newt spat out as he lifted the hammer again.

Newt hit him again and again and again. Alby's body squirmed with each hit, limbs flinching slightly when Newt brought the hammer down while blood splattered everywhere. His friend groaned and cursed Alby's existence as he kept going. He seemed not to want to stop.

    "Newt," Thomas whispered to himself in his catatonic state.
    "Just die," Newt huffed angrily with another blow. "Leave me alone, just leave me alone!"

The hammer fell down with another loud bang that shook Thomas to his core. He couldn't allow him to continue; Newt had enough guilt from his previous games already. So Thomas forced himself to move. He didn't know why Newt was suddenly so angry with Alby, but what mattered was to get him out of that state.

    "Die you useless piece of shit," Newt said, voice quivering as he delivered another blow and picked the hammer again.
    "Newt. Newt! That's enough," Thomas shouted, but it was useless.
    "You don't dictate who I am. Not anymore," Newt continued, his voice now breaking and letting out some sobs.

He was unresponsive, so caught up in his revenge that Thomas's voice was deafened by it. With no other option, Thomas stepped into his field of vision and caught Newt's hands with his own in the next swing, making him finally stop.

    "He's dead!" Thomas said with enough force to make Newt look at him. "He's dead, Newt," he uttered quietly.

With his chest heaving and tears prickling his eyes, Newt finally stopped. The hatred that had fogged his mind disappeared slowly and instead seemed to be replaced with fear and uncertainty, but at least he appeared to be more himself now than a few seconds ago.

    "Thomas-"
    He shushed him gently, "It's okay. Let's just... put the hammer away, okay?"

Newt nodded slowly and complied. His eyes never left Thomas as he helped him put it down. Thomas kept his gaze on Newt as well. The afternoon sun shone down on the side of his face, the orange hues bringing out the deep brown of his eyes that were such a contrast against the murky red of the blood scattered across his face. Newt's breathing was still coming in short bursts as he tried to calm himself. He was clearly in shock, and for that reason and more, Thomas didn't dare to avert his eyes, otherwise Newt might crumble.

Thomas snuck his fingers gently between Newt's trembling hands, slowly taking the hammer from his grasp and then lowering it to the ground while he still kept his eyes on him. Something in his friend shifted back to reality once the weapon was put away, making him want to look down.

    "No," Thomas said quickly, grabbing Newt's face to prevent him from seeing the horror of his deed. "Don't look down, just look at me."

If he could spare Newt some of the trauma of what just happened, then Thomas would do it. Licking his lips, he looked over his friend's shoulder and at the path where he came from.

    "Minho. Minho is still in danger. I don't know if he killed Ben, we need to go help him," Thomas told him. "I'll get your knives. Don't worry."
    Newt closed his eyes and swallowed, finding his voice once more, "Okay, okay. You're right. Let's make sure he's okay."

The two awkwardly stood up. Thomas was still refusing to take his eyes off Newt to make sure he wouldn't look down and Newt never took his gaze from Thomas's because it was what was keeping him from panicking further in that moment.

Newt spun around and started to limp away while still slightly dazed. Thomas finally looked down at the remains of Alby, averting his eyes for a moment when he caught a glimpse of his open skull. Thomas had to swallow down the urge to vomit. Taking a deep breath, he braved the terror of looking at the first kill on his hands.

Alby's skull was a mess, an assortment of cerebral matter and broken bones that sank down into the hollow pit of his cranium, pulling the skin down with them while one of his eyes was still attached to the socket through the nerve. His arrow remained stuck in his neck, but it was broken as apparently, Newt had failed to hit his mark a couple of times.
He would carry the image for the rest of his life, but Thomas thought it was a fair price to pay for a bit of peace in Newt's mind.

Thomas sniffed his tears away, refusing to break down right now. Instead, he bent down to pull all the knives Newt had stuck in Alby's body and gathered them as fast as he could so he could stop looking at Alby's dead body. When the work was done, he straightened his back and spun around to follow Newt.

The way back to Minho felt faster than the time it took him to catch up with Newt. The duo found him still fighting Ben, though this time around, Gally had joined to aid their friend. Thomas had to give it to Ben; the guy was keeping both of them on the defensive with just his sword.

    "We should help them," Newt said.

Thomas nodded and went to load the arrow on his crossbow while looking at the fight. Ben had hit Gally straight in the jaw, making him lose his balance just in time to spin around to block a thrust of Minho's spear. He seemed to have almost the same inhuman strength that Alby had shown when following Newt.

Thomas managed to get the string back and place the arrow in its proper place. He brought the weapon against his shoulder and took aim, but wouldn't dare to pull the trigger for fear of hitting Minho or Gally. So he waited for a clean shot.

Ben had Minho backed into a corner now. The sharp clang of steel clashing against steel resounded over and over again as Ben threw slash after slash that Minho had to block. During one of those clashes, Minho tripped while backing up and fell on his backside.

Ben brought the sword up, ready to strike Minho one last time, but that gave Thomas enough room to shoot him in the leg. Ben groaned in pain, momentarily forgetting about Minho, who grabbed the spear and used the opportunity to impale Ben right in the sternum.

Thomas thought that would be the end of it when he saw Ben suck in a breath, but instead, he dropped the sword and kept pushing against the spear, bit by bit forcing more of it through his body in a desperate attempt to reach Minho. He would have continued if Gally hadn't shown up and used his axe to cleanly sever Ben's head.

All four of them remained in place, waiting for something else to happen while they also tried to process what had just transpired. Newt and Thomas were the first to move and help Minho up.

    "Thanks," Minho said to them, now on his feet. "And to you too. That was a clean cut."
    "No problem," Gally said, bashfully rubbing his neck.

District Seven's other tribute seemed to have had a pretty rough time in the Games just like them. Gally's nose was swollen and appeared to be bending to the side, plus he had dirt and cuts all over his clothes and body.

"I thought you were on their side," Newt said.
    Thomas turned to him, "Come on, Newt."
"It's okay. I get it," Gally explained. "It was more for convenience... after my little... fight with Harriet."

Gally pointed at his nose. Thomas couldn't believe she had done that to him, but at this point, any surprises were no longer surprising. The games had shown him that anything could happen.

    "I won't stop you if you want..." Gally uttered without the strength to finish the sentence. "I wouldn't be able to do anything against three anyway. Maybe it would be for the best."

Minho exhaled, spinning his lance on his hand. He approached Gally, and Thomas swore for a moment that he was about to end it for him. Minho showed him again that he wasn't like that by putting his arm around Gally's shoulders instead. Gally flinched and closed his eyes, expecting the worst.

"Aw, come on, open your eyes, I'm not going to do anything," Minho said. "It would be shitty of me when we already told you we could get you out of here."
    Gally looked apprehensive at Minho. "So you guys weren't lying?"
    "We were not," Minho said immediately. "Right, guys?"

Minho looked at Thomas for approval, who looked at Newt for approval. Newt sighed dramatically and rolled his eyes before finally agreeing.

    "Sure. Fine, what's one more," Newt uttered, pinching the bridge of his nose.
    "Cool, then I say we explain-"

Minho was interrupted by a scream in the distance. It didn't appear to belong to a human, so that only helped to make the entire group feel worse when they heard it. Thomas would have let it be, if it weren't for the fact that it came from the direction they were headed. Which only meant that Katniss was probably in danger.

Notes:

I love Minho and thomas sharing one brain cell. I've mossed writing that. Hope you guys enjoy the new chapter. Sorry for the late update.

Chapter 10: Into the dusk of the second day.

"Mutt monkeys, are they serious?" Gally complained.
"Mandrills, actually," Thomas corrected him.

All three heads simultaneously turned around to look at Thomas, who had to choose that moment to be picky about a species-specific name. Although, it was more Minho and Gally who turned to look at him in disbelief, while Newt, who was more used to his antics, barely spared him a glance before shaking his head fondly. Thomad felt like he needed to defend himself.

    "What?" He asked looking at Gally and Minho. "I liked reading about animals when I was a kid, ok?"
    "It just doesn't seem relevant right now, but thanks for correcting us... I guess," Gally said, turning his attention back to the group.

Thomas flushed red and chose to do as Gally did and turn to the matter at hand: save Katniss and his group. There had been hardly any time to explain everything to Gally, so Thomas had to summarize the situation for him while they moved closer to where they heard the sound originate. Gally was a tad bit lost, with so much information, but he ended up getting on board with the whole operation.

Luckily for them, Katniss and her group were not too far away from where they had fought Alby and Ben. However, when they found them, there was already a group of mandrills surrounding them, and to add insult to injury, the sun was already setting. Neither of them thought it was a good idea to face the mutts with their vision impaired if night fell before the conflict started.

Therefore, Thomas and his group tried to asses the situation to help them out from their hidding spot. Katniss had an arm extended in front of Chuck, Wiress and Beete to keep them behind her while the other held her bow. Finnick and Johanna were already in a combat position in front of her, trident and Axe in hand, and looking for any sudden movements. Peeta was in the back with his machete at the ready while he looked around at their unwanted guests.

    "Let's get closer. The mon—" Minho looked at thomas per chance when he was speaking and chose to correct himself, "Mandrills haven't noticed us yet. We can help them escape."
    "Escape where?" Gally said. "They are surrounded."

Gally was right. If the group wanted to survive, escaping was their best option. They needed to secure a way out. An idea presented in Thomas mind when he saw in that Katniss kept looking back at the beach. He spared a glance in the direction of the cornucopia and figured that she must think that's their best shot for a escape route.

    "Katniss keeps looking at the cornucopia," he commented.
    "What?" Gally uttered looking at thomas confused. "Does he always talk in half sentences?" Gally asked Minho.
    Thomas groaned, "the beach. We should help them Escape there. It's also the area where the less amount of mandrills are."

The mutts had surrounded Katniss but the majority where on the side of the jungle while there was barely a few keeping them from running in the direction of the beach.

The group silently agreed. With a lot of precaution, they started to move from their hiding spot trying their best to keep as quiet as possible to retain the element of surprise. Thomas moved with his eyes on the other party and what was going on. The mutts were getting more and more aggressive. Growling, baring their teeth at them menacingly, pounding the ground with their fist. One single move from either side and hell would break loose.

Thomas's party made it right behind a group of trees that was near the line of mutts blocking the side of the beach. Minho gripped his spear, Gally took his axe out and Newt held the sword they stole from Ben at the ready. Thomas raised the crossbow and waited. The right moment would present itself.

The next few seconds were agonizingly slow. Thomas felt the sweat building in his palms with how nervous he was, and he hoped that wouldn't make him make a mistake because the next fight might determine if they succeeded or not.

The conflict finally erupted when a mutt screeched and tried to jump on Katniss. She was fast enough to hit it with her arrow before it could reach her, but the death of their friend caused the rest of the mutts to turn violent and attack.

As soon as Katniss and the others started to get swarmed by the mandrills, Thomas and his group came to their aid. Gally and Minho took the back line of mutts by surprise, stabbing and slashing two of them before they could join the rest in the defense, and Thomas used his crossbow to shoot one of the mutts that was about to jump on Finnick. The victor of District Four turned and smiled when he saw them helping before turning back to keep some of the mutts back.

    "Come on, the way is open," Newt yelled at Katniss's group. "Move, we will cover you."

Katniss and her group took their offer and started to move towards them while they fought the enemies off. The mandrills appeared to be endless. No matter which way Thomas looked or how many of them he or Newt or any of the guys killed while they made their way to the beach, there was always another one already making its way to them. The formation they had fallen into was the only thing keeping everyone safe.

Finnick and Minho faced the mutts on the side of the jungle, spear and trident tearing through their ranks as each of them killed more monkeys than anyone else. Katniss and Thomas used their weapons to take out some of the mutts that were swinging through the trees to try to flank them, while Gally, Newt, Johanna, and Peeta protected them so they could aim and shoot without being interrupted. All while keeping Chuck safe among them while they advanced.

Their effective defense only seemed to anger the mandrills more, who in retaliation increased their efforts to overwhelm them.

    "We need to reach the beach, I'm starting to run out of arrows," Thomas said.
    "Let's move then. But we need to run to make it," Katniss said, agreeing with him. "Chuck, stay close by," she said.
"O-okay," Chuck responded.

Thomas was about to tell the others to do as he suggested when he saw that one of the mandrills went past Minho and Finnick and managed to knock Peeta to the ground. The mutt showed its sharp teeth, ready to kill Peeta any minute while Thomas rushed to load his bow to help him. He was almost certain that he wouldn't be able to save him, but he was proven wrong when destiny decided to give Peeta another chance at life.

Out of the tree Peeta was leaning on while backing away from the mutt, Aris appeared, stepping out of his camouflage in time to stab the monkey when it jumped to attack. The mandrill managed to scratch him with its claws along his shoulder before dying, but otherwise, Aris was fine.

    "Aris!" Thomas shouted after him.
    "Stop gawking at me, we have to leave," Aris reminded him.
    "Right. Come on, we have to get out of here!" Thomas shouted to the entire party.

They had killed enough mandrills that the pack wasn't able to swarm them from all the flanks, giving them enough room to head for the beach.

The mutts rushed to catch up with them while Thomas and the rest moved through the foliage at full speed now. He could hear screeches all around them and even see some of the mandrills swinging through the trees close by, but he focused on running instead, and he would have kept doing that if it weren't for the agonizing scream. One of the mutts had snuck past them and had grabbed Chuck by the ankle. The mandrill dragged the poor kid underneath him, sinking its teeth into Chuck's throat immediately.

    "Chuck, no!" Katniss screamed.

She was about to draw her arrow, but Peeta was faster. He cut the mutt down and got Chuck out from underneath him. Thomas pulled Katniss by her sleeve to remind her to keep running. They could worry about Chuck once they were away from the jungle. The party finally reached the edge of the foliage, practically jumping to safety as soon as the sand appeared in their field of vision. Thomas was happy when his feet landed on the loose grains that conformed the beach, even letting out a small sigh of victory now that they were safe. Although, not everything was happiness at the moment.

    "Oh, my god, Chuck," Katniss said, her voice trembling.

Peeta was still carrying Chuck. The poor kid was gasping for air, his throat torn open by the vicious fangs of the mutt that had attacked him. Even from where Thomas was standing, he could tell he wouldn't make it. Chuck was getting pale by the minute, his blood dripping down Peeta's hands and clothes.

Peeta, knowing that Chuck was in his last moments, brought the boy with him into the ocean. Gently holding him above the surface of the clear water as he accompanied him.

In a gentle voice, he shushed Chuck, "It's okay. It's okay. Hey, hey. Look at that."

Peeta turned his gaze to the sky, to the pretty oranges and yellows that were mixing into the blues of the morning. Chuck's eyes followed the direction, his body barely holding on to allow him one last view of the world.

    "It's pretty, isn't it? Like the paint you gave Katniss the other day," Peeta said softly.
     "Yeah," Chuck managed to get out in a whisper. "It's beautiful."

Those were the last words of Chuck, the last moments of another kid just like Rue. Thomas had to give it to District Twelve, they knew how to walk you through your last moments. Part of him was at least glad that he wouldn't have to live another minute of these atrocities, but another part was suddenly boiling with the need to make Snow and every person in the Capitol pay.

    "Ow! Be careful," Aris yelped in pain.

Thomas turned around at the sound of complaining, finding Minho inspecting the wound on Aris's shoulder as the latter behaved like a child getting a knee scrape cleaned by his mother.

"Don't be such a baby. I'm just looking at it. I'm barely touching it," Minho said.
    "Then why does it hurt?" Aris asked.
    "Because you're a big baby," Minho uttered.

Newt and Gally also observed the other two's fight. Newt did so while slowly approaching Thomas until he was finally beside him.

    "And I thought you were sensitive," Newt said, clearly teasing him.
    Thomas chuckled. "I don't complain that much."
Newt crossed his arms, looking at Thomas unimpressed. "Debatable."

Their banter would have continued if not for Finnick, who chose to throw an arm around each of them and pull them into a half-hug.

    "You guys managed to survive. Good," Finnick said.
    Thomas frowned at him. "You sound like you didn't expect it."
    Finnick tilted his head from side to side. "Well, I wouldn't say-"
    "He didn't. But let's leave that for another time," Newt said, interrupting him. "Finnick, are you going to tell us your plan?"
    Finnick removed his arms from around them and stood back. "You already know the plan."

Newt took a breath, everything in his body language telling Thomas that he was getting fed up with Finnick's games. Thomas didn't know what was happening to his friend, but ever since he had stepped into the arena, he hadn't been in  the best of moods. And sure, the games might have something to do with that, but lately, it felt as if he were walking on eggshells around him. He still hadn't forgotten that he wanted to talk with him about what had happened with Alby.

   "Finnick, cut the crap," Newt said, stepping close to him. "Unless you haven't realized it, more than ten tributes just standing around will look suspicious to the Capitol."
    "I can always kick your ass for the cameras," Finnick answered. "That might look convincing."

Neither Newt nor Finnick looked like they were joking. Thomas wouldn't put it past Finnick to kill them if it came down to it. Thomas would prefer to avoid seeing another person bleed to death. They had just seen a kid die, there was no need to see more of that today.

    "Okay, how about you two take a step back," Thomas said, separating both guys.
    Finnick lifted his hands to his sides, returning to his smug self. "You're right. Enough bloodshed for today."

Finnick stepped back, turned on his heels, and started to walk towards Katniss and his group while Newt glared daggers at his back and cursed him under his breath.

    "What do we do now?" Thomas asked him, hoping to distract Newt.
    Newt sighed, forgetting about Finnick for a second. "Well, Brenda said we needed to get Katniss and find Aris. Maybe she's not so far away, and we will be rescued soon..."
    Thomas knew that Newt still had more to say. "But?"
    "Sonya..." Newt said simply. "She's alive since I haven't seen her picture being broadcasted in the sky. I should find her."
    Thomas agreed with him. "And I should find Teresa."

With everything that had happened, they barely had any time to think of anything that wasn't surviving the next thing that wanted to kill them. Thomas could even notice now how fatigued he was. He had been running from danger since yesterday and so far hadn't had a proper sleep. He was sure he wouldn't get one soon.

    "It's a clock!" Katniss suddenly shouted, getting everyone's attention on her.

Katniss and his group gathered around her. They watched as her team moved to the cornucopia, leaving Thomas's group behind. Katniss looked genuinely excited; Thomas had never seen her express that much emotion before.

    "What do you think she meant by that?" Minho asked as he appeared beside Thomas.

Aris and Gally had also joined the group. The five of them looked at Katniss's team gathered in the center of the cornucopia, talking as they pointed at the jungle around them. That made Thomas look around, searching for clues to try to decipher what they meant by 'it's a clock'. It wasn't clear at first, or at least not until Thomas saw the tail of the cornucopia pointing in the same direction they had run and faced the thunderstorm.

    "The arena," Thomas said, gripping Minho's arm unconsciously. "The arena is the clock."
    "Tommy, what are you yapping about now?" Newt asked.
    "Don't you see? What time was it when we were struck by lightning?" he said.
    Minho shrugged. "I don't know. Midnight? Maybe."
    "Exactly," Thomas directed their attention to the cornucopia. "Which is right where the tail is pointing. Each hour of the day most likely activates one of the Capitol's traps."

Slowly but surely, Thomas saw the realization bloom in their eyes as they finally understood what he had deduced.

"Okay, but how does that help us?" Minho asked.
    "By knowing when to get near the tree," Aris uttered.

The group had almost forgotten their new addition to the team. Aris spoke while he kept looking at the area where Newt and Thomas had survived the thunderstorm.

"What do you know, Aris?" Newt asked. "I feel like you might be more informed than us."

Aris finally looked at them. He bit the inside of his lip as he pondered whether he could trust them with the whole truth. Thomas and the rest waited for him to open up. He was tired and starting to get fed up with all the promises of freedom but no real results.

    "I can't—"
    "Aris, please," Minho interrupted him. "I'm sure they are tired of hearing the same thing from Finnick."

Aris looked at Minho; the two held each other's stare until the tribute of one admitted defeat with a sigh. Crossing his arms over his chest and looking down, Aris finally revealed more than what Finnick had ever given them.

    "The arena has a force field. That's the only thing keeping the resistance from reaching us," Aris admitted.
    Thomas frowned, remembering the day of the scoring, "Like the one they had in the test room?"
    Aris nodded, "The resistance doesn't have anything strong enough to breach the field. However, if we overcharge it..."
    "Then the arena loses its protection, and they can come rescue us?" Minho asked.
    "Yep. But it's not that simple. We need a lot of energy for that, and what better source than—"
    "A tree that summons a thunderstorm," Thomas finished for him.

The truth was liberating, Thomas concluded. He had an objective now—a clear path to follow for freedom. All they had to do now was find Teresa and Sonya and hopefully escape this hell with the rest.

    "Why didn't you guys tell us that from the beginning?" Newt said, his voice growing dangerously angry again. "We could have been gone a long time ago!"
    "Newt..." Thomas said softly, placing a hand over his chest.

Newt seemed to catch up with his sudden burst of irritation. Clearing his throat, he calmed down and took a step back since he had advanced on Aris, ready to hit him square in the face.

    "Sorry," Newt said, not looking at anyone.
    "It's okay. We just need the Capitol to believe that they are in control for as long as we can. Sneaking all the troops under their noses is not easy," Aris said.
    Thomas saw his chance of finally knowing how long 'for as long as it's possible' meant. "How will we know when they are ready?"
    Aris tapped his chest. A similar pin to Thomas's and Newt's sat comfortably against the fabric of his suit. "This not only gives our location... It will also indicate when they are ready to intervene by flashing a small light for us."

The information was both a blessing and a curse. Thomas now knew what to look out for to know it was time, but that also meant that if they didn't find Sonya and Teresa before the rebels were ready, who knows if they would even try to get them out or not.

    "H-how much time do you think we have?" Newt asked.
    Aris gave a small shrug, "At best, I would say a couple of hours. The next thunderstorm should be at midnight. One way or another, we need to be there for that. Why?"

Newt seemed to hesitate. Thomas knew he didn't want people knowing it was his sister so they wouldn't use that against them, so he thought he could act as a scapegoat for Newt.

    "I want to rescue Teresa too," he admitted. "Who knows, maybe Sonya would like to get on board with the plan too."
    "Do you even know where they are?" Gally asked.
    "Uh, I think I might know," Minho said.

Minho pointed at the cornucopia, making Thomas see the exact moment as Teresa got out of the water and killed Wiress, who was seated near the edge, by slitting her throat open. The act made Katniss shoot an arrow at her that Teresa would have received if it weren't for Harriet, who used a scrap of metal as a shield.

The two girls moved to the side of the cornucopia to run from Katniss and his group. That's when Thomas saw that Sonya was also with them. The three were now working together.

    "We need to help them," Newt said.
    "Help them?" Minho said. "They killed Wiress. I doubt they want our help."
    "I'm sure we can—"

Newt had to stop his pleas when a loud metallic sound interrupted him. Looking back at the cornucopia, the group now saw the entire land it was sat on spinning around at full speed. The water around it splashed as the engine furiously tried to shake the tributes atop its rock.

    "Oh, god," Aris whispered.
    "What is it?" Minho asked him.
    "They must know that we know about the arena. The Gamemakers wouldn't intervene like that," Aris explained.
    Newt groaned, "Who cares? Tommy, come on, let's go!"
    "Wait. Guys," Minho uttered.

Minho stood in front of Newt, blocking his path and making him even more desperate to move past him.

    "Let them go," Aris intervened.

Newt and Thomas turned to him. Aris was still looking at the cornucopia that by now had stopped spinning and was in a completely new position. Making reading the hours a bit hard if it wasn't because they knew the tree indicated the thunderstorm place.

    "Go and get your friends, but Newt, Thomas, if you guys aren't back to the area of the Thunderstorm by midnight..." Aris sighed. "I don't know if Brenda will be able to get to you guys."

Newt and Thomas shared a glance. The small action was enough to convey to each other that they had survived this far together, so they might as well finish it together.

    "We will be at the tree by midnight," Newt said confidently.
    Thomas nodded in agreement, "We will see you guys there."

Aris gave them a curt nod and that was all they waited for before turning on their heels and moving to try to find Sonya and Teresa and hopefully survive the quarter quells.

Notes:

Since I only have two more chapters planned for this fic, I hope the next ome is posted on monday, and the final one somewhere mid week. I'll try to make them a bit longer.

Chapter 11: Are you coming to the tree?

Summary:

Sorry if this chapter is not as long. This past few days have been hard, so I couldn't find a lot of time or the inspiration to write. Still, I hope you guys like it. See you soon for the final one!

Tup-dup, tup-dup, tup-dup, Thomas's heart was beating at full speed, the sound hammering against his ears while he looked around, tired of seeing so much green and not a single glimpse of dark or blond hair.

Huf, huf, huf, he cursed himself as he heard his breathing coming shallow and he had to come to a stop. His legs were getting tired from all the running and he was starting to feel hopeless. the more they spent looking for Teresa and the girls, the less time they'll have to get back to the tree and get them out of here.

    "Where are they?" Newt asked. "Sonya! Teresa! We just want to talk, girls."

It was useless, something inside of Thomas told him that they won't come out voluntarily. He didn't even know if they where here and could hear them. After all, the only clue they had of their whereabouts was the fraction of a second were they saw them sneak inside the jungle after they got out of the water.

Newt and Thomas had ran like never in their lives. Newt ignoring the pain in his leg and Thomas the overall soreness of his muscles in order to catch them. Only for the two to end up playing hide and seek with them in the endless jungle; hoping, begging, that they will be able to convince them so this madness can end.

Newt was still trying to get their attention with his shouting, but it had the same effect as the first time. Just come out already, Thomas

    "Girls, come on. We don't have time for this," Newt shouted hopelessly.

Thomas turned his gaze to the sky. The artificial firmament was already dark, if he had to guess they still had a couple of hours before the thunderstorm, but it was hard to tell. Looking back down, he tried to find them one more time, he even moved to catch up with Newt who was still calling them to come out as he walked.

    "Sonya! It's me. You know I wouldn't hurt you," Newt tried again.
    "No, but we might."

Teresa and their group finally came out of hidding. Pushing Sonya to step into the soft light of the moonlight, Harriet stood behind her while keeping the edge of the kukri knife against her throat.

    "What do you think you're doing," Newt asked her, anger increasing in his voice.
    Harriet shrugged, "using my trump card. You seem to care for her."
    "I'm sorry, Newt," Sonya uttered.
    Harriet pressed the edge against her throat, "shut up."

Harriet was too focused on Newt to notice Thomas slowly moving his hands to the crossbow. If I get a good shot in we can save Sonya, Thomas thought as his fingers wrapped around the handle. His plan would have been successful, if it wasn't because someone else was watching his movements.

    "Don't even try it, Thomas," Teresa said.

Stepping out of the shadow to his right, Teresa had the edged of her throwing hatchet pressed against his throat.

    "Get your fingers off the crossbow," she ordered next.
    "Teresa if you would just-"
    "Don't," she said curtly. "I heard about the deal when you offered it to Gally. I don't want it. Whatever lie Finnick or Newt have been feeding you is far from reality."
    "You are one to talk," Newt responded.
    "Oh, am I? Tell me, does Thomas know about the other reason Finnick wanted to talk to you so much?" Teresa asked him. "Because he kept bringing that little secret of yours in the party."

Newt fell silent. Thomas looked at him, but Newt refused to look back. As far as he knew, Finnick's only objective was to recruit him in protecting Katniss. What else could he possibly want with Newt? That was something Thomas didn't know.

    "Newt?" Thomas asked.
    Newt swallowed, still avoiding his gaze and focusing on Sonya instead. "Not the time, Tommy."
    "See. They all hide something. You can't trust them," Teresa told him.
    Newt snickered sarcastically. "But you are? In case you've forgotten, you're holding him hostage right now."

Thomas didn't know who to believe or what to do. The situation didn't exactly allow him much room to speak with Newt or Teresa, and he wasn't aware of most things because everyone chose to keep him in the dark, always. It was as frustrating as it was demoralizing for him.

Tension started to build up as everyone remained quiet. They didn't have time for this, and Thomas knew it. If their pins started to blink, then their chance to escape would run out of their hands, and their fate would fall to the Capitol. So Thomas started to think, trying to find a way to shrug Teresa off and hopefully make everyone stop being so hostile. However, he didn't account for Sonya, who tried to get away from Harriet by delivering a hit to her shin. Harriet recoiled in pain but still injured her in the back. Newt took the chance to throw a knife at Harriet that landed on her chest, killing her immediately and Thomas had no other choice but to follow him by slapping the axe away from Teresa's hands.

Newt went to help Sonya immediately, crouching beside her to asses the damage Harriet had done. He took her hand and using him as support helped her to her feet.

    "Come on, let's go!" Newt shouted at him
    Thomas looked back at Teresa who was reaching for her axe, "but-"
    "Thomas you heard her, she's not going to believe us," Newt said.

Before anything else could happen, the siblings started to move in the direction of the tree. Thomas took one look at Teresa, the cold stare she gave him back was all he needed to know that Newt was right, but he had to try.

    "Teresa, I know you went through a lot in the Games," Thomas said. "But if there is a chance to get back at the Capitol... don't you want to take it?"

Thomas got close, extending his hand, he offered her the chance to come with him. To leave the hate behind and focus on a positive future, to have hope for once.

Teresa looked at the extended hand, the turmoil of emotions inside her evident as both sides—the one she had believed in her whole life and the one that dared to hope for something better—clashed. If she took Thomas's offer, she was practically giving the middle finger to the Capitol, which would mean that she would be their enemy for the rest of her life. If she didn't, she could go back to pretending that everything was fine while she lived a life in a cage made of Snow's rules.

She slowly began lowering the weapon, and that gave Thomas a glimmer of hope. He could get her out of here; he could save at least one person.

Teresa let the axe hang to her side, and reached with a shaky hand for Thomas's hand. Her palm hover above his for a few seconds, still afraid of the consequences and of hoping again. Under the soft rays of the moonlight of that day, Teresa allowed herself to believe once more. Her hand finally fell on Thomas's who smiled brightly at her.

    "I hope I'm not committing a mistake," she whispered.
    Thomas's smile grew, "You're not. But we have to run to make this decision count."

Returning to his running, which is something Thomas thinks he has been doing quite a lot lately, they went in the direction Newt and Sonya dissapeared. Not expecting to find him walking back trowards him. Thomas and Teresa stopped, looking puzzled at a very bashful Newt.

    "He didn't have the heart to leave you behind," Sonya said with teasing smile.
    Newt pushed her, earning a giggle from his sister. "I just think that it was inappropriate not to end this with the person I started it."

Newt tried to be nonchalant, but even Thomas felt the affection in his tone. Newt is a good friend. Thomas would even dare to say that it was the closest to a best friend that he has ever had beside little Rue.

    "Stop looking at me like that," Newt said and Thomas could swear he was blushing. "Come on. Move."
    Thomas snickered, "Ok. We better hurry cause we have a lot of jungle to run through."
    "Uh..." Teresa said awkwardly. "Wouldn't it be better if we... cross through the beach?"

Thomas looked at the direction she pointed, feeling stupid for not thinking on that before.

    "You know what? Great idea," Thomas said without looking at her.
    "Agree," said Newt also ignoring her gaze.
    "Cool," Teresa answered, clearly amused by their stupidity.

With their path set, and not much time to lose, the group reached the beach in no time. Thomas led the expedition while Newt and the rest followed him close by. Seeing as cutting the most amount of distance was the desire result in order to reach the tree, Thomas chose to go through the cornucopia to cut a path straight to their objective.

He could practically taste the freedom, with each step he was closer of maybe finally knowing peace. Unfortunately, the Capitol never makes anything easy.

The water around four of the twelve sectors that marked each hour began to become turbulent. Out of its deep, a metal box broke through the surface of the liquid, ascending until they where at the same level of the cornucopia. A lock was freed with a loud metallic sound. The front side of the box fell on top of the floor of the cornucopia, making the dust rise.

Thomas and the rest halted midway, peering into the darkness of the boxes. They waited, fearing what the Capitol could have planned this time.

The rattle of chains was the first sound they heard from inside, followed by incomprehensible murmurs. Thomas swallowed, his crossbow at the ready to face whatever emerged.

The first thing to step out was something he never expected: a seemingly ordinary person. Thomas blinked in surprise at the sight of the elderly woman in front of him. She looked like any other older woman he could have seen back home. The only odd things were her behavior and the chains around her wrists. The woman scratched her scalp with such intensity that Thomas felt he would lose his hair just watching her. She was also talking to herself.

Newt and Thomas exchanged a glance. His friend took a cautious step forward, gauging whether she would react to them. His movement did make her turn her gaze towards him. When she did so, Thomas almost let out a scream.

Her eyes were an impossible black, with veins and vessels around them that appeared to be  a mixture of murky red and deep blue. Newt took another tentative step, her eyes still fixed on him. When he took the next one, something pinged, and Thomas saw the chains around her arms fall, clanking against the floor with a dry thud. The woman let out a scream that rivaled the mutts' screech. It was so primal, so filled with rage that Thomas felt instant fear.

The woman tried to attack his friend. Acting on instinct, Thomas aimed and shot her in the head before she could reach him. They were not given a moment of respite as they heard the same clang, amplified a thousand times, as the people—if Thomas could call them that—from each box were freed.

Neither of them wanted to stay to figure out what was wrong with them. Falling back into a run, Thomas and the rest rushed to get away from the cornucopia. He almost made it to the bridge that led to the other side of the beach when he felt a pair of hands grip him. He was suddenly thrown against the floor, and now he had a guy who was in the same state as the woman, only this one looked far more gone into whatever madness the Capitol had injected into them.

Thomas had to fight him back. The guy was trying to bite into his flesh, teeth snapping close and spitting saliva on him in the process. He would have succeeded in overpowering Thomas if it weren't for Newt and his sword. The edge pierced the guy's neck, killing him and allowing Thomas to escape.

Newt forced him to his feet and pushed him in the direction of the bridge, with the girls following close behind. The group ran despite the tiredness of their muscles, too afraid of the incomprehensible screams of agony and pain being shouted behind them.

Thomas and Newt made it first, but a sudden yelp made them stop and look back. One of them had gripped Sonya by her ankle, making her stumble and fall.

    "Sonya!" Newt screamed, panicked.

The person who caught her sank their teeth into her leg, making Sonya cry out in pain and for help. Newt pushed Thomas aside and tried to save his sister, but Thomas, despite knowing how much it would pain him and how much he would blame him for what he was about to do, stopped Newt in his tracks.

"Thomas, let me go," Newt said, fighting against the arms around him.
    "We can't, Newt. If you go, you'll die too," Thomas warned.

Another scream made them look back. There were now two more of them on top of Sonya, one beating her violently, his fist landing directly on her face until it started to draw blood, while the last one joined the first one in eating her alive.

    "Go, get him out of here!" Sonya managed to shout as the one who was beating her stopped to scream and then sob.

Newt tried to go again, and Thomas didn't blame him. But Sonya wouldn't want to see her brother die, so, with a heavy heart, Thomas used all his strength to lift Newt over his shoulder. His crossbow was discarded in favor of fighting his friend, who begged him to let him go so he could save her. Forgive me, Newt. I really wish we could help her, Thomas lamented as he ignored his friend and pulled him away from the crowd of monsters that was sure to follow them.

    "Thomas, let me go! That's my sister, you idiot!" Newt shouted at him, broken and sobbing. "I need to save her. Please let me go!"

He wouldn't, not unless he wanted to lose another person that night. Knowing that, he allowed Newt to hit him, to scream and curse his existence until his throat was sore and tired. He didn't know what it was like to have a sibling, but he knew how much she meant to him. He knew that he had volunteered to save her, that he had spent nights sneaking out of the room to maybe bring some comfort to his sister that they would make it out alive somehow. Thomas didn't need to be a genius to know that losing her would hurt Newt like nothing else.

    "I'm sorry," Thomas told him once he had calmed down a bit. "I'm really sorry."

He finally lets Newt down. He pushes him as soon as his feet touch the ground, and Thomas lets him. With a great deal of fear, he dares to look Newt in the eyes. He knows he would find pain behind them, but not that it would shatter him to see it. He wants nothing more than to find a way to comfort his friend, but it is hard when he is part of the cause of his misery.

    "Newt..." Thomas says.

He wants to reason with him, but Newt is too emotional for that right now. Thomas can't lie; it does hurt seeing him take a step back.

    "I-" Thomas tries again, but finds that there is only one thing he can say that is appropriate. "I'm sorry."
    "You already said that," Newt says bitterly.

And he will say it a thousand more times if that means that Newt understands that he really didn't mean to sacrifice his sister. He would never make him go through that if he could avoid it.

Someone cleared their throat, making both turn to the sound, expecting to find more of those monsters but relaxing when they saw that it was just Teresa. The girl stepped closer to Thomas and handed him back his bow. Without another word, she stepped closer to Newt and stopped briefly at his side.

"I made sure to hit her in the head," Teresa said, motioning to the crossbow. "At least she didn't have to suffer anymore. As Thomas said... we are sorry, but we should really keep moving, because they are still following us."

Thomas focused his hearing and found that Teresa was right. There were still screams in the distance. She went past him and started to run to the tree. Thomas looked at Newt, awaiting his decision.

    Newt brought the back of his hand up and wiped the tears away before looking at Thomas. "Let's go."
"Okay, if you're sure," Thomas said.
    Newt nodded. "Yeah. Let's get out of here. I will... I will have time to... when we get out of here."

Thomas got closer to Newt and gave him a gentle squeeze on his bicep. Newt responded by grabbing his hand and squeezing it, the exchange something simple, but Thomas hoped he would know that it meant that he understood his pain. They stayed there until they heard the next howl. Turning around, the two followed Teresa.

Chapter 12: Welcome to district 13

The air crackled; the static electricity was making the hairs on his skin stand on end. The sky was dark and clouded, just like the first night of the Games. All those signs indicated to Thomas that he was nearing the tree and, hopefully, his freedom. He had done his part—they all had—and now Finnick had to do his and get them out of there. Whatever happened afterward, he would figure it out when the time came.

Although that was if things went according to plan, and Thomas should have known that things didn't usually go as he expected them to, not since he had stepped onto that train.

Coming back to the group should have been the most peaceful and straightforward thing to do in this twisted game—like a walk in the park or as simple as breathing. Instead, everyone decided to complicate everything once again. Because no matter how many good intentions or common goals people have, there will always be a discrepancy in opinion.

Maybe that's why he found Minho and Johanna with their weapons drawn, ready to kill each other, and Finnick pointing his trident at Aris while the other boy fell to the ground just as Thomas, Teresa, and Newt arrived. He was sure Finnick would have ended it for Aris if it hadn't been for Newt's reflexes. He grabbed the crossbow from Thomas's hand as soon as he saw the scene and pointed it at him without hesitation.

    "Stop," Newt ordered. "What do you think you're doing?"

Finnick's trident halted mere centimeters from Aris's throat, his Adam's apple bobbing and scraping the tip slightly. Finnick turned his attention to Newt but kept his weapon on Aris while he furrowed his eyebrows and flared his nose angrily at him instead of answering his question.

What had happened? Thomas wondered as he frantically looked around, trying to find an answer. Beetee seemed to be injured. He was on the floor, groaning in pain and not really caring about his surroundings. Finnick must have had an argument with Aris. That was the only thing that would explain their behavior. He assumed that Minho joined in to defend him when he saw things turn for the worse. The question was, what sparked everything to happen, and how could they still be fighting against one another when they were so close to the end of the games?

    "Aris, what did you do?" Thomas asked calmly, looking between Finnick and Newt.
    "I tried to get rid of him," Finnick explained, still looking at Newt. "Which makes me wonder, what game are you guys playing? Whose side are you really on?"

No one answered his questions. Now the air had the tension of their argument added to the sizzling of the upcoming thunderstorm. It was a matter of who would act first, and Thomas didn't know if they could survive Finnick if he was being honest. They outnumbered them, but he had seen him fight multiple people at the same time.

Fortunately, he wouldn't have to find out as Katniss interrupted their little moment by appearing from among the foliage. Something appeared to be wrong with her too; she was gripping her arm, and Thomas could see faint traces of blood running down.

    "Beetee?" she whispered, looking worried at the injured tribute.

She took one more glance around, and when she saw how dire the situation was, she drew her bow and aimed it at Johanna.

    "I'm not your enemy, Katniss," Johanna said; she didn't appear afraid of her at all.
    "Really, because you attacked me. I'm sure that makes you one," she spat back.
    "She's not lying," Finnick uttered. "I know you don't want to trust her, but at least trust me."
   
Katniss looked at Finnick, but her aim remained in the same spot. She did look more conflicted, though. Thomas tried to reason with her; after all, his possible freedom was all thanks to her, but his sudden movement only made Katniss aim her arrow at him instead.

Thomas froze, raising his hands to show her he was defenseless. Katniss still didn't lower the bow, nor did she show any more trust in him than she did in Finnick or anyone else.

    "Katniss, we don't mean to harm you," Thomas said, taking a careful step towards her.
    "Finnick, where is Peeta?" she asked instead of acknowledging him.
    Finnick spared her a glance and responded, "Gally took him away. I don't know how or when, but they were gone."
    Katniss pulled the arrow back further. "Why did your friend take Peeta? Where is he?"

Thomas could hear the anger in her voice. He instinctively recoiled back, making himself smaller and looking at the ground to avoid her burning gaze. What did she want? How was he supposed to answer her if he didn't know what Aris had planned? He  knew he was supposed to respond or he would meet his end by her arrow, but he couldn't think of anything at the moment.

The truth, she wants the truth. She deserves it, he suddenly realized. He didn't know why he hadn't thought about that. Katniss had been played with, just like them. Never allowed to hold all the answers, only see glimpses of them. It was surprising how much she had endured under the spotlight, all to comply with the Capitol and their demands. And now she was expected to comply with Finnick and the rest too?

    "The force field," Thomas blurted out to her. "Katniss, if you want—"
    "Shut up," Johanna shouted at him.
    "I won't! She deserves to know the truth. Aren't you guys tired of these games?" Thomas told them.
    "Do that and I'll put this trident through your chest," Finnick warned.
    "Let's see if you can do that without me putting this arrow through your skull first," Newt threatened.

A piercing scream broke their fight and traveled all the way through the jungle to them. Just hearing it sent a chill down Thomas's spine, and he could tell Newt felt the same way if the white knuckles from his tight grip on the handle had anything to say about it. Even Teresa seemed to tense when she heard it. He had forgotten about the mutts that killed Sonya, but they sounded like they were really close. If they fought Finnick and his group, that just meant that they would be too tired for the mutts later on.

The pins in Aris, Newt, and Thomas's chests started to emit the light that Aris had talked about. It blinked every other second to give Brenda and her team their location; they needed to take down the shield now. Thomas looked back at Katniss; the girl on fire locked her eyes with him as the air's static rose. The thunderstorm would start any minute, and they were wasting their time.

When he thought things couldn't get worse, they heard the cannon go off, but none of them wanted to look away to see who had been killed. Katniss feared for Peeta, while Thomas thought of Gally. Despite who might have been killed,  it only served to increase Katniss's anxiety.

With no other choice, Thomas shook his head slowly and implored her with his eyes, trying his best to convey to her that all this time he had never meant to harm her at all. Katniss took a moment to analyze Thomas before looking down at something. Thomas followed her gaze and found the wire Beetee had been carrying around the entire time. He followed the cable all the way to the tree where they had attached it and finally understood how they had planned to take the shield out.

    "Katniss, get away from that," Finnick ordered her.

She ignored him. Getting on one knee, Katniss picked up the wire and tied it to her arrow. She aimed up and released the string just as Finnick spun towards her to stop her. However, she sent it flying before Finnick could do anything and just as the unmistakable rumbling sound boomed through the air right before the actual lightning struck the earth in a white-hot flash that pushed everyone away and knocked them back.

Thomas landed with his back against a tree before faceplanting in the dirt of the arena. His ears rang and vision blurred as he recovered from the impact.

He somehow managed to find the arrow just as it stuck to the artificial sky of the arena. The wire served to carry all those volts against the force field, successfully overcharging it and turning off all the traps in the Games—all of them except for one: the mutts. Thomas could still hear the screams growing closer, and now they were accompanied by perturbed murmurs that he didn't even want to begin to decipher.

Where was everyone? Thomas looked for his friends, but also for the rest of the tributes. He found Newt nearby, trying to get to his feet but failing. He couldn't find Teresa anywhere. Minho was barely standing, as were Johanna and Finnick. Katniss and Aris were also out of his field of vision.

Another scream. They would be on them any minute. Where was Brenda? He knew he was starting to panic, but the mutts sounded closer and closer, and there was no sign of help coming their way.

Light? Thomas cast his vision upwards, finding an aircraft descending on them. He tried to call for help, but his body was still in shock from the impact. All he could do was watch as they took Katniss into the ship while he hopelessly clawed at the dirt in an attempt to force his body to move forward.

Tears began to form in his eyes. He didn't want to be forgotten. He was afraid, exhausted, and desperate for the torture to end. "Please, don't leave us. Please," he begged in his mind, fighting to his last breath, feeling like it was going to be his last.

Thomas felt a hand on his shoulder that spun him around. The moment he saw the same crazy eyes, blue veins around the eyes, and terrifying crooked grin of the mutt, he felt the end coming near. The woman used her sharp nails to claw at his face. Thomas tried to fight back, but his arms were pushed aside as she attacked and beat him. He felt the sharp sting and burn of the nails drawing blood against his skin and the disorienting feeling of knuckles that made his head hurt. The woman was unleashing all her anger onto him.

Thomas could taste his own blood in his mouth, and his vision was darkening. "I'm sorry, Mom, Dad, I won't make it," he thought as he saw the woman lift both fists into the air, ready to strike him again if not for someone putting a bullet through her head.

Thomas saw the woman fall to her side, and in the next moment, a barrage of bullets flew in the direction of the forest like small comets in the dark firmament. All he could hear now was the cracks and pop's of the guns being fired being dampened by the ring in his ears that made them sound as if they where far away.

He didn't know how to feel initially, but what he knows is that he never thought he would be more glad to see someone than when Brenda appeared in his field of vision as she crouched beside him. The same caring eyes, the same warm smile—it was like a welcoming hug to safety.

    "We will get you out of here," she told him, Thomas hearing her words muffled. "Sorry I was late. Jorge! He's here."

Brenda stood up, and that's when Thomas noticed the military gear on her and the rifle in her arms. Brenda started to advance towards the forest as she shot. Thomas wanted to tell her not to do it, that there were too many of them for her to take on alone, but he was in no condition to do so.

His eyes were closing as he lost consciousness, but he still felt someone lifting him from the ground in their arms next. In his last moments of being awake, Thomas found one last familiar face in the person holding him in their arms. Jorge smiled as always, but this time it was accompanied by something akin to paternal love. He said something to Thomas, but whatever it was, it got lost in the sea of nothingness that engulfed him as he finally blacked out.

Thomas felt his eyelids slowly flutter open as his body recovered from the long sleep. The first thing he registered was his throat feeling dry, like sandpaper. His body, despite the sleep, was still tired. He was nauseous, and if he were to stand up, he was more than sure that he would fall to the floor.

    "Water. I want water," Thomas uttered.

He scanned his surroundings, finding monitors with his vital signs, an IV attached to his arm, and a panel with many buttons and icons. Reaching for one of them, he pressed it several times, even though he didn't know if it actually worked. But anything was better than staying there with his dry mouth and splitting headache. He got his answer when someone appeared in his doorway. As soon as she saw him, she ran back to call for help.

It took a minute, but he was helped to a sitting position and given some water so he could get the horrible feeling out of his throat. It took longer than that for Brenda to pay him a visit, but when it finally happened, he felt relieved to see her face and a bit overwhelmed.

    "Brenda," he managed to get out, his voice breaking a bit.
    "Hey. I'm glad to see you're awake," she answered softly.

Brenda sat down on the edge of the bed, her weight sinking into the soft material while she reached to cup one of Thomas's hands in hers as a comfortable silence settled in.

    Thomas managed to smile softly at her, but his words came out harsher than he intended. "For a minute back there, I thought you had forgotten about us."
    Her face twisted in remorse. She squeezed his hand to reassure him that wasn't the case. "I gave you my word that I would get you out of there. It just took us more time to do it."

And she did. She kept her word to Thomas, and for some reason, that made Thomas tear up. Maybe it's because now, in the safety of the hospital bed, he could actually admit to himself how terrified he had been. How will he carry with him the deaths of so many people or the terrifying experience of almost dying if it weren't for her help? He fought back the tears, but as soon as Brenda saw his distress, she enveloped him in a hug that made him break down.

Thomas, clung to Brenda for safety, trembling, dampening her shirt with his tears, snot and saliva. Brenda didn't mind. She held him there for a solid minute while Thomas allowed his body to process part of what had happened. He couldn't imagine how Newt was doing. Newt! Minho, what happened to the rest of them? Thomas's priorities changed drastically as he remembered the rest of the guys.

    "Where are the rest?" Thomas asked her.
    Brenda placed her hands on his shoulders and kept her eyes on him while she answered, "They're fine. Well, most of them."
    Thomas felt his heart suddenly trapped in his throat. "Most? What do you mean, most?"
    "Wow, calm down, Thomas. Don't stress yourself yet," she said calmly. "Minho and Aris are fine. They got some cuts here and there, but they're fine. Gally... Gally is missing."
    "Missing? How could he be missing?" Thomas asked, his anxiety spiking up.
    "We couldn't find him. Neither Peeta. We think the Capitol might have them. It's only been a few days—"
    "A few... days? How long have I been asleep?" Thomas asked. "And what about Newt and Teresa?"

Brenda didn't answer him. She, instead, looked guilty. Thomas couldn't take it. He was too tired to be polite.

    "Brenda, where are Newt and Teresa?" Thomas demanded to know.
    "Teresa is... she's in a coma, right now," Brenda retracted her arms. "She's stable. But she hit her head really badly when the lightning sent you guys flying."

Thomas didn't know how to feel about that. She was alive, at least, but a head injury wasn't something to joke about. He was already picturing all the possible side effects and dreading each scenario.

    "What about Newt?" Thomas asked, afraid.
    "Newt is alive..." Brenda barely uttered.
    Thomas shook his head; he wasn't up for more games. "Just tell me the truth, please."
    "I... I'll do something better. I'll show you," Brenda uttered.

It took a lot of effort from both, but with a little help from Brenda, Thomas managed to get on his feet while leaning on her. She took him from the infirmary through a corridor that led to a secondary set of rooms. As they approached the area Brenda was taking him to, they both could hear a commotion up ahead that only increased as they got closer.

Thomas and Brenda stopped in their tracks when they found Newt threatening some of the staff with the same IV pole he had for his medications. Thomas focused on his friend and felt a chill go down his spine when he noticed that something was wrong with Newt.

    "Why is he—"
    "He's been like this for the last two days. He suddenly bursts into fits of rage, and once he even almost killed one of the nurses," Brenda sighed. "I'm trying to keep him in check, but Vincent is getting tired of him."
    "Newt wouldn't act like that," Thomas said, believing it to be true.
    "Usually, no," Brenda uttered. "But with the Flare... that's different."

Thomas had never heard that word. He looked at Brenda, who, seeing his confusion, proceeded to explain things to him.

    "It was a virus that slowly eats away at your brain, eventually turning you into a  bloodthirsty and irrational human who would consider killing, torturing, and cannibalizing someone," Brenda explained. "It was supposed to be extinct, but apparently not."
    "But where did he get it?" Thomas asked as the mental image of the last mutts flashed in his mind.
    "The Gamemakers. That's my safest bet," Brenda told him.

Thomas supposed it did sound like them, but that didn't matter right now; what mattered was helping Newt.

    "Take me in there," he ordered her.
"Thomas, that's not—"
    "I don't care. Take me there, or I'll drag myself inside if I have to," Thomas said.

Brenda sighed but complied with his demands. As soon as they stepped in, he could hear the accusations Newt was throwing at the nurse and the guard trying to calm him. He only seemed to stop because he saw Thomas in the doorway.

    "Tommy?" Newt said, anger being replaced with disbelief.
    "Newt!" Thomas barely uttered.

He tried to walk by himself, pushing his body away from Brenda and taking only a few steps before he felt his legs buckle and give way beneath his weight. Brenda caught him, as did Newt, who forgot about the nurse and guard to help Thomas.

Brenda seemed to wave them away, and the two were more than happy to leave.

    "Can you give us a moment?" Thomas asked her.

Brenda seemed reluctant but nodded in the end. She slowly stood up and backed out of the room. Thomas waited for the door to close before finally speaking, but when he was about to do so, he stopped due to Newt's appearance.

The golden hair was still the same as was the smug smile on his face, but Thomas could notice some of the bluish veins he had seen on the mutts that had attacked them, though Thomas now understood that they were not mutts. Just people. People mad enough in the head that violence was not such a big deal for them. The warm brown of one of his eyes had also been replaced by a darker, deeper version that connected to the veins.

    "I know. It looks ugly," Newt uttered.
    Thomas felt himself flush for being caught staring, but he also felt saddened by Newt's tone. "It's not that, Newt."
    "You don't have to lie, Tommy," he uttered. "They told me what I have. This thing. The Flare. I'm a crank now, apparently."

Thomas wanted to disagree, but he didn't know how to respond to that, nor if Newt wanted him to. He still tried, because, well, when has he learned to shut up?

    "I think you're Newt. That's all that matters," Thomas answered.
    Newt chuckled, Thomas finding the sound so sweet in such a situation. "I would like to believe that."
    "Then do it. Because all I see is my friend, and anyone who says otherwise is wrong," Thomas told him.
    Newt's smile grew as did the fondness in his gaze. "Thanks, Thomas. I guess it's my turn to say that I like your scars?"

Thomas frowned, but when Newt pointed to a mirror in the room, and he turned to see his reflection, Thomas understood what he meant. His nose was still slightly swollen, and he had slashes all across his face that looked between purplish and green. If he hadn't thought he was handsome before, now even less.

    "I look like shit," he said.
    Newt nodded along with him, "We look like shit."

Their serious demeanor lasted for a moment before both boys snorted and laughed at their own misfortune. He seemed to do that a lot around Newt. Smile, he meant. He was a great source of joy in Thomas's otherwise bleak life.

    "Do you have any idea what happened?" Thomas asked him once the laughter had died down.
Newt shrugged. "All I know is that a certain Vincent is the one we have to thank for our rescue."
    "Oh, you will thank me. But not in the way you think," a third voice said.

Thomas turned to find a man followed by Brenda, who looked apologetically at them. He stepped into the room, grabbed a chair, dragged it close to them, and then turned it around before taking a seat facing the side with the backrest.

    "Hello, Thomas," the guy said. "I'm Vincent. As Newt told you, I agreed to save you on behalf of Brenda, who proposed to us your... utility."

Thomas looked at Brenda, and she answered by mouthing a quick "later" to let him know not to focus on that for now. He had a feeling she might answer his questions later.

    "And what... utility, as you said, do I bring?" Thomas asked.
    Vincent cracked a half-smile. "I need you to help me assassinate Alma Coin."

---

Ava poured herself what she suspected would be her last drink before some thug sent by Snow barged into her office and dragged her to her execution. All their plans, all their advances in their investigations, and now it wouldn't happen because Heavensbee betrayed them.

Looking out through the window of her office, Ava contemplated the city below. Wetting her lips, she brought the strong whiskey to her lips and gulped it down before taking one last glimpse of the view.

Swish. Ava sighed when she heard the door to her  office open. It was time, and she would face it gracefully—or as gracefully as Snow would allow it.

    "Relax. I'm not your executioner," was what the person said instead of all the scenarios she had thought about.

She spun around to find Janson smiling at her and, with a folder extended towards her, she took it from his hands. Janson cocked his head in the direction of the files and urged her to read them.

    "What is this?" she asked as she began to read the papers.
    "Our salvation," was Janson's answer.

She frowned, reading faster to catch up with his explanation, but Janson was too happy to wait any longer.

    "You were right," he told her. "They are immune. That boy, Thomas? And his friends are immune."
    "You verified it?" she asked.
    "I did. But that's just half of it," Janson said next.

Ava paid attention to him again. Janson had a satisfied grin on his face that she wasn't used to seeing at all, and now here he was, expressing himself as if the world were in the palm of his hand.

    "Newt isn't immune," Janson whispered excitedly. "Yet he fought the Flare back."
    Ava scoffed, "Now you're just making things up."
    "Oh, I'm not," he said with a small crackle. "He stopped because Thomas asked him. No one with the Flare has stopped. And what's worse is that the last lecture tells me that there have been no other manifestations of symptoms. It just... stopped."

That couldn't be; she hadn't found a single person able to fight the Flare. Snow himself was succumbing pretty quickly, and that's with a lot of aid.

    "You're joking," she uttered, terrified.
    "I wish," Janson laughed, but she couldn't tell if out of fear or excitement. "No, Ava. They are the cure. If we want to save ourselves and maybe the Capitol itself... we need Newt and Thomas. They are the cure."

Notes:

I honestly had fun writing this. I hope it was to you guys liking, I might do the sequel at some point, so that's why some stuff like Newt's secret that Finnick wanted won't be answered yet. But, anyway, for now, that's it.

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 21 of Newtmas to heal my soul
• Part 1 of Newtmas Hunger Games Au