A/N: I am infinitely grateful for the reviews on the last update I honestly didn't think anyone would read it. So thank you! Reviews really do make my day. And thank you to anyone reading this chapter and I hope you enjoy it.

I heard the canon blast and tried to sit up.

I couldn't. I couldn't move.

I rubbed my eyes but everything around me was blurry. I couldn't focus on anything. It felt like I was still sleeping but I knew I wasn't. Glancing up, I saw Cato. He towered over me, his form all fuzzy. Blurry around the edges. I blinked, seeing double.

I was awake… except I wasn't. My brain was jumbled. It reminded me of the sensation I got last year when Katniss had dropped the tracker jacker nest on us. That had been unpleasant – I'd hallucinated for what felt like hours, confronted by scenes I didn't want to think about. Some had been made up – Cato dying, for one – but others were real. My parents, my family, my childhood. Repressed memories had been dragged up to the surface.

It was the same. I recognised the feeling and knew it was the same. I was hallucinating.

"Cato," I tried to speak but my voice was croaky.

Suddenly, a woman appeared out of nowhere, just as blurred as Cato was. She was around Cato's age, maybe a few years older. Completely beautiful, of course. Tall. Plump, pouted lips. Fluttery eyelashes.

I wanted to ask who she was but my voice failed. She sauntered up to Cato, completely disregarding my existence.

I squinted, confused and dizzy. There couldn't be another person in the arena. She wasn't a tribute. She couldn't be here.

You're hallucinating, I reminded myself.

It was so hard to remember that, though. Everything seemed so real. The flawless woman in front of me didn't look like a hallucination at all. More like a goddess come to life.

"Clove?"

I heard Cato's voice but his lips weren't moving.

He stood before me in a ghostly form, not acknowledging me at all.

The girl draped herself over Cato; her arms around his neck, her leg round his waist. I tried to reach forward, to drag her away by her hair, but my limbs were too heavy to move.

Something's wrong.

In the next second the girl's lips were on Cato's, their faces mashed together and a soft moan escaping the girl's throat. My chest tightened watching as Cato responded to her touch, his hand angling her face so the kiss could deepen, just like he did with me when we were alone.

"Clove it's not real."

Cato's voice was barely audible; it was distant and distorted.

Not real.

A trick from the Capitol for the finale. It was a game. They were messing with our heads.

I knew I had to be stronger. I had to resist whatever garbage they were planting in my brain but it was so hard. The woman in front of me wouldn't disappear. I screamed and swiped forwards, clawing at her. My hand cut through thin air.

Not real.

"Clove, wake up."

Cato's voice was pleading. I shook my head. The images wouldn't go away, they wouldn't even fade slightly. I screamed again, a guttural sound coming from the back of my throat.

"Get off him," I tried to shout it at her but it came out as a whimper.

The girl was wearing barely anything, her legs long and slender. She pressed her whole body against Cato's and I felt my stomach drop.

This is what happened. When he was in the Capitol and I was trapped in District 2. This is what was happening. This is the kind of woman he would have been forced to sleep with.

I felt bile rising at the back of my mouth but I forced it down.

My hands flew to my head, clawing at my scalp, pulling my hair out. I was screaming.

"Stop, stop, stop," I chanted desperately, verging on hysteria.

It's not real, I recited in my head, screwing my eyes shut. Not real, not real, not real –

"Clove, wake up!" Cato's voice was louder than before.

The woman was taunting me, laughing in my face. I wanted to kill her. I wanted her dead.

I never got the chance to reach for a knife, though, as an unexpected wave of cold water smacked into my face. I thrashed out, screaming. The water filled my mouth, making me choke.

Gasping for breath, I flickered my eyes open, the hazy world around me sharpening into view. I was lying on my side on the ground. My face was being dunked into a small stream of water. There was a sore spot on the crown of my head.

Sitting up slowly, I shook my head again. Cato was beside me, holding my small frame over the edge of the bank. When he noticed that I was spluttering and spitting water out, he dragged me backwards, away from the stream. I collapsed in his lap, panting.

The woman had faded to nothing by the time my surroundings came into focus. Cato shifted so that he was crouching beside me, holding my shoulders. He looked worried but also a little dizzy himself.

"Wh –" I coughed, sitting up and rubbing my head. The world slowly became clear; the dusty arena around me and the humid air. My torso was completely sodden. My hair dripped onto my legs. "What the hell just happened?"

I already knew the answer, really.

"Gamemakers," Cato stated simply. "Getting in our heads."

I scowled in fury.

"Why are they so interfering?" I muttered angrily.

"They're pulling out all the stops. For the finale."

Cato handed me my water bottle and I took a sip. It was practically empty.

"Did you – see things, too?" I asked, wary to reveal the scene that had just uncovered before me.

"Yeah," Cato said in a monotone. "I'm guessing they were trying to show us our fears. Or something like that. Something to distract us."

"Oh," I breathed.

"Mine was only short," he explained, gruffly. "But you wouldn't wake up. You wouldn't snap out of it."

I felt my face heat up slightly in embarrassment. Dammit, why hadn't I fought back harder? The Capitol should not be able to mess with my head and get away with it.

"So I carried you to the stream," Cato continued. "I thought splashing your face with water might wake you up. That's what they always do in the movies."

I snorted at his logic.

"Splashing my face," I muttered, arching an eyebrow. "More like trying to drown me."

"I was trying to help!" Cato protested.

"I'm kidding," I smirked, rolling my eyes at him. "Thanks."

Cato looked almost offended that I'd thanked him. I supposed I understood that. We had each other's backs – always – and he knew I would have done the same for him in a second.

I waited a few moments to see if Cato was going to elaborate on what he'd seen while under the influence of the gamemakers. I couldn't help wondering if I'd been in his vision.

But he said nothing and neither did I. Even though the woman was still on my mind I didn't dare bring her up. It was too real.

When I looked up again, Cato's gaze was already trained down on me, his eyes wide and alert.

"Are you okay?" he asked in concern.

I nodded. A little shaken, maybe. But physically I was fine.

"All good."

Cato stood up and offered a hand to help me to my feet.

"Man, that was trippy," he grouched absently.

I knew the feeling. Hallucinating, having your mind messed with. It screwed with you.

But that had to be forgotten for now. The gamemakers had obviously been trying to distract us for a reason.

"I'm not dreaming, there was a canon, right?" I asked him, remembering the boom I'd heard earlier.

Cato nodded. His brow was furrowed in a combination of concern and confusion.

"District 1 or Odair. One of them is dead," he spoke lowly.

I found it strange that he didn't refer to them by their names but then I supposed he hadn't spent time with them like I had. He would probably be able to kill them more easily than I could. The idea of murdering Finnick or Gloss made me feel a little uneasy. I wished it didn't.

"Three of us left," I mumbled, barely making a sound.

We were so close to the end. I wanted to be excited but I had no idea what was going to happen when it came down to it.

"Let's go and find out who it is," Cato decided gathering our things and helping me to my feet.

"Yeah," I agreed, my brain still slightly cloudy.

Whoever remained would be camping out at the cornucopia, I was sure of it. Just as Cato and I had done last year. That felt like another lifetime. Everything had been simpler back then.

We began trekking towards the big clearing in the centre of the arena where the cornucopia was placed. I couldn't help looking over at Cato tactfully every now and then. He was limping. Despite his desperate efforts to hide it, I could see the slight unevenness of his walk. He grimaced with every step.

I had no idea how he had carried me to the stream. It must have hurt like hell.

"You okay?" I inquired after a little while of walking – or hobbling in his case.

"Fine," he grunted evasively.

He clearly didn't want to talk about his leg. I decided not to push it but I was worried; I hadn't seen him this vulnerable for a long time.

It didn't take too long to reach our destination, although I was sweating when we did. The weather was Capitol-made unnatural, as ever. The ground sizzled and crunched under my boots.

When we rounded the corner into the clearing, I held my breath to see who was left in anticipation. I was mostly expecting Finnick. He had been one of the strongest tributes from the beginning.

I couldn't really imagine Finnick would have killed Gloss, though. He took alliances very seriously.

So, what? Maybe Gloss had simply become weak and dehydrated. Maybe he couldn't cope with the loss of Cashmere any longer and decided he didn't want to win without her. Who knew?

Cato staggered ahead of me, the hot sunlight beating down on us. For once, I was kind of grateful for the heat – it was drying my clothes and hair at least. I peered around, scanning the cornucopia and my mouth dropped open in surprise.

Gloss was standing there. At the foot of the huge structure, Gloss stood, spear in hand, staring right at us. Finnick lay a few meters away, motionless. Dead. His trident had been tossed to one side, the fork coated in blood.

Gloss had killed Finnick.

I felt sick. Finnick had tried to help Gloss; he'd tried to help all of us. I couldn't believe he was dead. After everything he'd done for me. I'd just left him, I hadn't said goodbye. I had never even thanked him.

And now it was too late.

I tried to forget about Finnick for that moment – there was no time for mourning in the Hunger Games. I was just in shock, though. Why would Gloss have done this?

"Look who finally came back!" Gloss raised his voice so it was travel across the dusty clearing. He sounded vaguely hyserical. Definitely not himself.

I hung back near the edge of the rocks and glanced at Cato. He didn't look particularly surprised by the revelation that Finnick was dead, or even like he cared for that matter. His face was ever so slightly contorted in pain.

"I'm gonna go talk to him," I told Cato, taking a breath.

"No," he immediately shook his head. "Too dangerous."

"He was my ally once – "

"Clove, he's psychotic."

I flashed a grin at him, unable to stop myself.

"So am I."

Before he could say another word, I took off jogging in Gloss's direction.

"Stay there," I instructed to Cato over my shoulder.

I knew he wouldn't like that – he hated being told what to do and was ridiculously protective of me sometimes. But I continued running anyway. If I could just talk to Gloss maybe I could figure out what was going on. Maybe I could calm him down.

As I got closer, I noticed Gloss tighten his grip on the spear he was holding, angling it forwards. Towards me.

I stopped a safe distance away, holding a knife at the ready. It was one of my longer blades.

"What's going on, Gloss?" I called to him once it was clear he wasn't going to speak.

"What's going on?" he repeated with a scoff. "You wouldn't know, would you? Because you left."

I exhaled uneasily. As much as I wanted to be angry at Gloss for acting so viciously towards me, I couldn't deny his words. I had left, after all. I'd abandoned him to be with Cato.

"I had to make a choice."

"You traitor!" he yelled, voice cracking. "You and Odair, you're both as bad as each other. Plotting to kill Cashmere and then waiting til the end to finish me off, too."

I shook my head while he spoke.

"We never wanted Cashmere – "

"You wanted her dead! Don't try and deny it!"

I swallowed, hard. That was it then. Gloss had lost it. I understood trying to suppress emotions and I knew how crazy it could drive a person. So I wasn't actually that surprised.

Unfortunately, it did mean I'd have to kill him.

"What happened to your boyfriend?" Gloss asked when I said nothing, gesturing over to Cato with his spear.

I turned to look in Cato's direction, wincing when I saw that he had collapsed backwards and was leaning onto a rock for support. His leg was only getting worse. I bit my lip, turning back to Gloss –

However I didn't get the chance to completely get my bearings before a spear was suddenly being thrust in my direction, right towards my chest. I ducked and dropped to the ground at the last second, Gloss missing me by inches.

"What are you doing?" I panted from the solid floor, looking up at Gloss with horror written across my face.

Oh my God. He nearly got me. He nearly killed me.

Gloss said nothing, instead stabbing the spear down into the ground, directly where I was. I rolled out the way with a shriek, again only dodging it by a second.

"Stop moving!" he barked. "It's time for you to die, Clove!"

I scrambled to my feet, shaking my head breathlessly.

"No," I informed him. "I am not being killed by you. That is not how this shit is going down!"

"Our alliance meant nothing!" Gloss spat back, swiping his spear at me.

I was agile, though. I dipped and dodged and slid out of the way, not allowing him to touch me. While he was busy growling in frustration that he hadn't hit me yet, I took the opportunity to throw a knife at the ground, landing directly in his foot.

Gloss let out a scream of pain, jumping backwards. He immediately reached down and pulled the knife out, throwing it back in my direction without missing a beat.

I hadn't been remotely expecting that.

So, this time, when I dived out the way it wasn't quick enough. The blade sliced across my arm, cutting the skin open but not piercing the flesh. I yelped in surprise but bit my tongue not to make any more noise.

Shit, shit, shit. The gash on my bicep stung but I tried to ignore it. I could feel warm blood tricking down my elbow.

Cut by my own knife. How tragically ironic.

"You can't beat me, Clove," Gloss taunted.

I just laughed through the pain. His foot would have been hurting more than my arm, I knew that for a fact. He was just putting on a show, a pathetic bravado. I could see right through it.

"You underestimate me."

With a grunt Gloss launched himself at me and, screaming, I threw myself in his direction. We collided in the middle, falling to the ground. I managed to elbow him in the temple as we descended. His bloodied boot kicked me firmly in the shin the second we hit the dense ground below. I hissed.

"You've lost," I screeched at him.

"This is for Cashm –" Gloss never got to finish her name as I punched him in the throat, momentarily winding him.

While he was unfocused I took the opportunity to take a smaller knife and drive it into his leg. He yowled in pain and, for a second, I was overcome by guilt.

He had to die, though. I knew that. This was the end of this God awful Quarter Quell and he had to die. There was no other option.

"I didn't kill Cashmere," I explained quietly as Gloss tried to catch his breath. He stopped struggling and became still beneath me. He knew I was going to kill him. "Finnick didnn't kill her either. The Capitol did."

I thought back to those mutated rats and felt dizzy. They truly had been grim.

"And now you're going to kill me," Gloss choked out a humourless laugh. "Full circle."

"I don't have a choice."

Gloss tried to smile but it was more of a grimace.

I was about to say something else – maybe that I was sorry it had come to this, I wasn't too sure – when, out of nowhere, a sword came down sharply from above, slamming through Gloss's neck. His head detatched and rolled to the side, his neck spurting blood.

I screamed – I couldn't help it. The sound was lost to the roar of the canon. Thick blood poured onto the sandy surface beneath us. I scuttled to my feet to get away from it.

Looking up I saw Cato, his expression grim. The sword in his hand clattered to the floor.

"What did you do that for?" I shouted accusingly. "I was going to kill him humanely!"

"Decapitation is humane," Cato commented tiredly. "I know you didn't want to kill him. So I did it for you."

"You shouldn't have done that!"

I don't know why I was so mad. Maybe because, even a homicidal maniac, I thought Gloss should have had a more dignifed death. I was also mad I looked weak again. To the audience, it looked like I couldn't have killed him. Which I most certainly could have, by the way.

I wanted to be mad at Cato but when I turned I saw that he had collapsed onto the ground, right on his back.

"Cato?" I breathed, terror seeping into my tone.

I hurried to his side. His face was sweaty again and he was shaking. I darent look at his leg but I could tell the cut was was definitely dirty, definitely deep and definitely getting worse. He must have had a blood infection or something. His skin was burning under my touch.

"Cato, hey," I murmured as his eyes closed. "I'm right here, stay with me."

I glanced around me frantically, beginning to panic. We were the last two tributes. We were the only remaining tributes. No one was getting out of this arena until one of us died.

I took a breath to calm myself down, knowing that losing my nerve was not going to help the situation. It was fairly simple what the solution was going to have to be.

One of us had to die. It had to be me.

I'd voulenteered in the first place so that I could come and protect Cato in the games. Well. Mission accomplished, he'd made it to the end alive (just about). I'd done my job. He was still breathing.

And Cato needed serious medical attention. That made the decision even easier. The second I died, he would win. Capitol minions would descend into the arena in their fancy hovercrafts, pick him up like they had done last year and take him straight to hospital. They would save him.

I had to die.

I felt oddly numb as I came to the conclusion in my head. I didn't want to, that much I couldn't hide. I didn't want to die. I wanted to get older, live my life with Cato, become a trainer like Brutus. Do anything I could to bring pride to my District. I maybe even wanted to mentor one day. I thought I would be quite good at guiding someone through the process of the games.

There were lots of things I still wanted to do.

But if I could die to save Cato's life it was hardly a decision that needed mulling over.

I'd always known I would die for him, if it came down to it. And now I was getting the chance.

Leaning down, I kissed Cato on the lips gently. He felt feverish and was fairly unresponsive but that was alright. He would be okay soon.

"I forgive you, by the way," I whispered, my voice shaking. "I don't know if I ever said it. But I forgive you. I know you did it for me."

If he was listening he'd know what I was talking about. The horrific business with Snow, his Capitol career, all of it. I knew why he did it and I understood. I wanted him to know that.

"Bye, Cato," I murmured finally, pulling away from him.

"C-Clove," he groaned faintly but I shushed him. He needed to save his energy, not waste it on me. He carried on talking though, reaching for my hand. I could tell how much effort it took him to move. "I-I love you," he managed to get out, breathing heavily.

I stopped in my tracks, my stomach lurching.

I knew it was stupid. Realistically I knew he loved me, I'd always known that. It was visable in the way he kissed me, the way he treated me, the tenderness of his touch.

But he'd never actually said the words out loud. Ever.

And, of course, he chose now. In the middle of the freaking Hunger Games arena, surrounded by cameras and while being scrutinized by an audience.

I felt my eyes prick with hot tears. I couldn't breathe for a second. The sun and my watery eyes combined temporarily blinded me and I shuddered a sob out. In my stupefied state, when I looked up to the sky and saw a hovercraft slowly approaching, I was sure I must have been hallucinating again.

I'm seeing things. I had to be.

Distantly I heard a miscrophone screeching with feedback as it came to life. Then Claudius Templesmith's voice filled the dead air.

"Congratulations tributes," came the monotonous overhead announcement. Then, for what I could only assume was for the audience at home, "I give you your victors of the 75th Annual Hunger Games from District 2."

Victors.

I blinked twice, still pretty positive some kind of delirious fantasy was unfolding right now. I didn't understand. We couldn't both win.

He'd said victors. Plural. Did that mean –

The approaching hovercraft was so loud it drowned out my thoughts. There was must have been some kind of explanation but at that point I was too exhausted and overcome by emotion that I simply collapsed backwards onto the ground, landing next to Cato's unmoving form. I was too drained to even try to figure out what was happening.

I had no idea. I might have been dreaming. I might have been going mad.

I just lay on the ground as the lights beaming down from the hovercraft burnt into my eyes.

Everything washed out to white.