AN: Hey guys, it's me again c: I'm really really sorry about the many many months I've let pass since I last updated, but here's a brand new chapter and I really hope it doesn't disappoint. Since my writer's block is finally over (somewhat), from now on I'll probably update every few weeks. Follow me on tumblr if you wish, as my ask box is always open to anyone c: .com :D Also, I don't own anything from Glee or the Hunger Games & I'm currently going unbetta'd. So if anyone would like the job of bullying me until I actually crank out a new chapter, just pm me please c: Enjoy !

Chasing Smoke

Kurt's eyes widened slightly, but other than that his body was frozen. Santana's jaw dropped and she quickly fumbled with the remote to turn off the television.

"Kurt," she said frantically, grabbing his hand and shaking "Kurt!"

He turned slowly, her voice sounding far away. It was like he was in the ocean again, just like in his dream, kissing Blaine under the water while the rest of the world was on mute. Except Blaine wasn't there, and Santana was looking at him with eyes just as wide as his.

"You can't tell him," she hissed, "Don't mention it at all."

Kurt quickly nodded but still said nothing, his mind still trying to process what he'd just seen on the screen. Beside him, Santana kept on pushing buttons until the screen of the tv went dark. She turned and faced Kurt again, opening her mouth to say something else, but at that exact moment Anthony walked in.

"Hey fishies,"

Both Kurt and Santana turned to look at him and smiled, although rather tensely. They'd known Anthony for years now, as he was the owner of the training center. He was tall and had tanned skin, not as dark as Santana's but definitely darker than Kurt's. In fact, Anthony had known Kurt since he was a baby. Elizabeth Hummel had been a mentor with him every year until she died, and to this day Anthony was the mentor to the pair of tributes reaped every year from District 4.

Santana's smile wavered slightly, and Kurt felt his do the same. "Hey Anthony," he said quietly, "Come to tell us how to stay alive?"

Anthony smiled grimly and took a seat on a nearby chair. "More or less. How do you feel?"

There was a moment of silence before Santana spoke up. "Like I need to win."

Anthony's lips quirked up in a half smile. "That's the spirit, Tana. What about you, Kurt?"

Kurt's hand flew up to play with the anchor charm hanging off his necklace. "Um…" he fidgeted nervously in the couch while thinking of an answer. "I don't know. I don't want to do it."

Anthony nodded. "Neither do I. I don't want to do this anymore. But we have to fishies, so I'm going to get you ready."

Kurt nodded slowly and turned to look at Santana, only to find that she was already looking at him. She shook her head slightly, silently telling him they'd talk about it later, and then turned back to Anthony. Kurt did the same and tried to listen to their mentor as he talked about what would happen as soon as they got to the Capitol, but he couldn't concentrate.

He should concentrate though, because if anything was going to keep him alive in the arena, it was Anthony's advice. Kurt forced himself to focus on the conversation, glancing sideways and finding that Santana was listening closely to every word their mentor said.

"You have to run towards the cornucopia, and once you're there you need to kill. Anyone who gets in your way, you kill them. Unless they're from 1 or 2, but I'll make sure to point those tributes out to you during training. Watch each other's back if you can, because you're going to need each other at least for the first few nights." Anthony's eyes flickered between Santana's determined facial expression and the stress lines on Kurt's forehead, and thought to himself, they're so young. They shouldn't have to go through this. But the truth was there was nothing he could do but try to instruct them correctly, because keeping faith during the games was like chasing smoke. Impossible, but many still tried it.

"After the initial fighting, you have to start hunting down everyone else. Listen to me closely, you have to find as many kids as you can the second day and kill them quickly, but when it gets down to the top 8 tributes you have to split up. If one of you wins it would be amazing, but I'd rather not have you two be the last ones left." Anthony went on to talk about the weapons that might be in the cornucopia and that they should take as quickly as they could, along with how they should distribute the rest of the weapons to their allies. "You can't trust anyone, not even each other, and that's why you should find shelter right away." He spoke more of finding shelter, then of finding something edible, although the later was harder to do since they had yet to find out what their surroundings would be. And truthfully, that was one of the hardest things about the games.

Back in District 4, both Kurt and Santana knew their surroundings. They knew which way the beach was, and the time's the tide changed were pretty much engraved into their minds. In a way though, they'd be going into the games blind, because the vital knowledge of their surroundings wouldn't be with them. Anthony glanced at them again as he outlined some of the possible land types they might find themselves in, but before he could talk about more than a few, Kurt interrupted him.

"Would it help if we watched some of the tapes? Of the previous games, I mean. That way we could see how we would have to adjust to the different weathers and such." His voice still sounded slightly nervous, but he'd stopped fighting the urge to make his voice sound strong. He was on a train headed to what very well might be his death place, and he would just be plain stupid if he wasn't at least a bit nervous.

"Yeah," chimed in Santana, "it can't hurt, can it Tony?"

Anthony chuckled. "Ever the overachievers. Hold on a few minutes, I'll go get the tapes from Terry." And with that he exited the compartment again, leaving the two teenagers in the midst of a thick silence.

"So," said Santana carefully, the subject of Blaine not forgotten, "what's…going to happen?"

Kurt glanced at her quickly and threw her what he hoped came off as a threatening look. "Not right now Tana, anyone could hear." He was pretending to be in control about the Blaine situation, pretending he wasn't affected at all, even though he felt his hands shaking slightly again. Seeing Blaine get reaped had unbalanced him, taken everything he knew away and replaced it with a deep dark fear. It was horrible, but at the moment here was nothing he could do about it.

Santana opened her mouth to say something again, but at that moment the door of the compartment opened again and Anthony stepped in holding a box.

"These are numbered according to year. I have a few more things I have to discuss with Terry, so I'll leave you guys to watching them." Anthony set the box on the couch between them and smiled somewhat grimly at them. He hated this, hated having to smile and act upbeat about the whole process, but it was his job. He hated his job, but for the kids' sake he had to go through with it. "I'll have someone call you when dinner is ready."

Both kids smiled tensely back at Anthony and then waited until he'd left, their eyes meeting over the box of tapes.

"So," started Santana again, but Kurt cut her off.

"I said later." He peeked into the box, cautiously inserting his hands in and wrinkling his nose at the thin layer of dirt covering most of the tapes. "Apparently no one watches these on a regular basis. Can't say I blame them."

Santana rolled her eyes. "It's pretty obvious that the only people that watch these are the unlucky bastards who ride this train every year. What a morbid though."

Kurt gave her a dead panned look. "You realize that you just called us 'unlucky bastards'? Because that's not very optimistic at all."

Santana rolled her eyes again. "Well, are we anything else but that?"

The glare Kurt sent her almost made her laugh. "Okay, just forget what I said. We should really watch some of these tapes, though. All the people who won, they've won for a reason."

Kurt nodded and took out a tape, tilting it slightly to get a good look at the year. "This is from…ten years ago. Do you remember that?"

Santana shook her head and gestured towards the tv, indicating that Kurt should play it. Kurt stood up and fiddled around with the tv a bit before inserting the tape and sitting back down to watch it. The image flickered slightly before giving away to Caesar Flickerman, sitting on his couch as always and conducting interviews.

They watched that tape, in which the final tribute won by smashing the other tribute's head with a rock, and then they watched another, in which the tribute who won stabbed his opponent through the chest with a tree branch. Kurt chewed on his lip as he watched both endings, wincing internally but unwilling to show emotion on the outside. Sure, Tana was his best friend, but now she was his opponent as well. Only one person came out of the games alive, and they both wanted to be that one person. He couldn't show weakness, not now.

As the second tape ended, Santana started digging through the tapes. "Okay Hummel, what are we watching next? The one from 20 years ago or the one from…18 years ago? So basically forever ago, or forever ago? Kurt?"

Santana looked up to see Kurt's face a little paler than usual, his reddened lips standing out as he bit at them again. "Kurt?"

Kurt tore his eyes away from the tape and looked up at Santana. "This is the tape from the year my mom won."

"Oh." Santana racked her brain for something to say. She had very vague memories of a tall, light skinned woman with chestnut colored hair, just like Kurt, but since she hadn't been his friend back then she only remembered his mom as someone from their neighborhood. "Do you…want to watch it?"

He looked down at the tape again, his fingers skimming lightly over his mom's name, which was written on the side of the tape. "I…yes. Yes, I think so."

Santana took the tape from him and quickly played it, sitting back to watch how the famous Elizabeth Hummel had won the games the year she was 17. Her interview proved she was charming and a little shy, but the arena would prove she was more than that. The setting was a desert-like area with patches of forest land scattered around, making it difficult for people to move from the places they'd initially taken refuge at. Elizabeth was fierce at the battle of the cornucopia, killing several tributes and then teaming up with the rest of the careers. But after that she stood back and let the others take charge, only abandoning them once they were down to the final eight.

The final battle was between her and a girl from district two, who was overpowered by Elizabeth in the end. Elizabeth slit the tribute's throat and then stabbed her chest quickly to make sure she didn't suffer, then stared down grimly at her blood stained hands as the canons announced her victory.

"Wow," uttered Santana, after staring at the blank tv screen once the tape had finished. "Just…wow."

Kurt just blinked. He'd always seen his mom as the kind, gentle woman that would hold his hand and play with him in the sand. But after seeing the tape of her victory, he couldn't help but admire her in a whole new way.

"Your mom was a badass."

Kurt couldn't resist the grim smile that tugged at his lips. "She really was. And we're going to have to be just like her if we want to win."

X

Dinner was a quiet affair, filled mostly with Terry's talk about past glories and the possibility of a new one this year. Santana mostly rolled her eyes at everything, but she didn't eat. Kurt noticed she pushed her food around but didn't consume more than tree bites. He did the same, although he tried not to. He knew they'd need their strength in the arena.

After dinner Kurt and Santana were each shown to a room, and after a shaky smile and a tense wave they each disappeared into their own room to try and get some rest. Kurt walked into the bathroom and got ready for bed, taking extra time to wash his face carefully. Then he walked back into the room and peeled off his clothes, dropping them on the floor and pulling on the pajamas that had been laid out for him on the bed. They were made out of thin material but were incredibly warm and comfortable.

Normally, Kurt would have taken time to admire the design of the room as well as the color scheme, but he couldn't. He lay down on his bed and closed his eyes tightly, pulling the covers over himself and trying to stop the memories that were playing in his head like they were on repeat.

They were in Kurt's room, Blaine having come over to help Kurt tidy up, but since Burt wasn't home they had ended up making out on the bed. Blaine was straddling Kurt and pressing kisses to his neck, whispering his name over and over. They were rarely home alone, so they were enjoying it while they could.

"Kurt," whispered Blaine, kissing his jaw lightly, "Kurt Kurt Kurt."

"Blaine," whimpered Kurt, his arms wrapped tight around Blaine's neck, "My dad will be home soon."

Blaine sighed softly and pulled back a little, looking into Kurt's eyes and smiling. "You look beautiful like this. With your lips all red and your hair all messy."

Kurt scowled a little and attempted to fix his hair with his fingers. "Blaine, I told you not to mess up my hair."

Blaine laughed a little and leaned down to kiss Kurt again. "Sorry, but I like how you look with messy hair. Well actually, I always like how you look. No matter what you're wearing or how your hair looks."

Kurt smiled up at him and pulled him down for a kiss. "And I'm the luckiest, because I have you all for myself."

"It goes both ways you know," murmured Blaine softly after the kiss, "I'm lucky to have you too."

Kurt sat up and pressed the heels of his palms to his eyes, trying to force his tears back, as letting them fall would only make everything real. His frame shook slightly from trying to hold in his tears, but till, he refused to let them fall. He didn't even want to think of Blaine anymore, but the fact that he was going to see him again in just a few hours made him feel queasy.

He fell back against the pillows and sighed quietly, curling up on his side and closing his eyes. "You were so good to me, Blaine," he whispered, "but now what happened between us will most likely curse me." Kurt sighed once again and then closed his eyes, quickly sinking into an uneasy slumber.

X

There was sand all around him, sand scattered along the forest floor. Kurt looked around, but he couldn't see much due to the dense amount of foliage surrounding the small clearing where he stood.

"Hello?" he called out. "Can anyone…is there anyone there?"

There was no answer. He started walking around the clearing cautiously, noticing his feet were bare and his dress very simple. His hair seemed to be free of any of the natural products he usually tamed it with, and the light seemed to be slowly diminishing.

There was a snap somewhere behind him, but as he turned quickly to sight the person who had tried to sneak up on him, his heart dropped. Blaine was slowly emerging from behind a wide tree trunk, but his eyes weren't filled with warmth and laughter like they'd always been before. Instead they were hard and cold, his mouth set at a grim line as he stepped forward.

"B-blaine?" Kurt stepped forward tentatively. "Blaine, are you…where are we? And why are you looking at me like that? Blaine?"

But Blaine just shook his head slowly. Then, in a low voice, he said, "I don't want to, Kurt. I don't. But I have to."

Kurt tilted his head inquisitively. "Blaine, what do you mean?"

Blaine help up his right hand, and that was when Kurt noticed the glittering knife he held. "I have to, Kurt. I have to."

"Blaine? Blaine, why do you have a knife?" Kurt's voice shook slightly, and his feet started to walk backwards on their own, away from Blaine and the knife. "Blaine?"

"I have to, Kurt. I'm sorry." The Blaine raised the knife again and lunged forward, aiming for Kurt's chest.

Kurt screamed and ran, his feet feeling the carpet of green beneath him and sliding a bit because of the sand. "Blaine, what are you doing?! Blaine!"

But Blaine just continued after him, not saying anything else. His actions were enough to show that he was not the Blaine Kurt was used to, and the new Blaine's mentality was apparently set on killing Kurt.

Kurt ran until his feet felt sand instead of moss beneath them, looking over his shoulder every few seconds to make sure Blaine was still a few feet away. "Blaine, you need to stop. Please Blaine, stop!"

But Blaine didn't, and as he lunged forward again he succeeded in catching the fabric of Kurt's shirt with his knife. Kurt screamed as he felt himself fall back, then again as he felt the knife pressed against his throat. The second scream was more of a whimper though, as fear crept into his bright blue eyes.

"B-blaine," he whispered, "Blaine please. Please."

"I'm sorry, Kurt."

X

"Kurt!"

Kurt's eyes snapped open as he sat up quickly, drenched in cold sweat and shaking. Santana had her hand on his shoulder, a worried look on her face as she peered at him.

"Kurt," she said quietly, "you were yelling."

He rubbed the tears from his eyes hurriedly and then turned to Santana, breathing deeply as he tried to calm himself. "Did anyone else hear me?"

Santana shook her head. "No. I came in here to talk to you in private, and that's when I saw you tossing and turning. Are you okay?"

Kurt ran his fingers through his hair and then sucked in air again, feeling a little better now that he knew that the whole thing with Blaine had been a dream. "I'm…I'm fine. I just…nightmare."

"Was it about, Blaine?"

Her words hung in the air and went straight to his soul, making him choke up as he nodded. Santana slipped her hand into his and squeezed gently, biting her lip as she chose her next words carefully. "Kurt, we're you and Blaine, you know…more than friends?"

Kurt's answer got caught in his throat again, so he just turned to Santana and nodded again. Then, a single tear made its way down his cheek. Santana wrapped her arms around Kurt and he rested his head on her shoulder, shaking slightly. He hated this, hated feeling weak and emotional, but right now he couldn't help it. He was trapped in a game he couldn't win, because even if he won, he really didn't.

His best friend was going into the arena with him, as well as his first love. An arena where the only way to survive was to kill, and where the blood of 24 teenagers would be spilled no matter what. Everything could happen, and everything would. Santana and Blaine wouldn't be anything else in there than another target, and the worst part was that there was nothing he could do about it.

"I don't want to, Tana," he whispered, "I don't want to do this."

"I know," she replied softly, "but we have to."

X

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