The Arena

The side of bed where he was feels cold. Clove's fingers dance across the soft fabric of the Capitol sheets, her arm splayed across the bed to caress where he was. She can still feel the slight change in temperature from where his warm body slept last night. He must have run to breakfast, or the roof, or somewhere else. Anywhere but here.

She doesn't jump out of bed like she thought she would. No rush of adrenaline like the morning of the Reaping, her body stays stiff and still. She expected blood rushing and heart pounding and instead her heart feels tight and like it's slowly inching up into her throat, choking her from the inside. Her fingers reach to touch the smooth skin of her neck, rubbing a scar that she can't remember how she got, until a small choke breaks through her lips and breaks the stillness.

It breaks the spell and her heart unclenches and begins to pound again, steady and then increasing in tempo until she can feel the rush and she smiles. Her limbs gain the energy she anticipated and she runs out to the breakfast table without bothering to change. It doesn't matter what she wears or how she looks. Nothing matters but her heart beating blood through her chest and that it will continue to do so at the end of the day. Others will fall, but not them.

Walking out for breakfast, she finds him already dressed and at the table. He looks completely put together, in a nice blue button down and a simple pair of khakis and a brown belt. The only thing telling of anything more under the surface of a nice normal day are the heavy dark circles under his eyes that reveals nerves or nightmares. Maybe he went to the roof again while she dreamed deeply of dandelions and bloodshed.

He would have been alone. Katniss Everdeen wouldn't have joined him on the roof this time. Disgust or even betrayal would keep her away from Peeta now. Clove doubts he gained enough trust for betrayal, but he probably gained back the disgust he had worked hard to dissuade. It made her feel better to know she already caused the Girl on Fire discomfort.

Leaning in, she gives him a big kiss in front of their mentors and escort, letting her tongue slip into his surprised mouth. She pretends not to notice him wipe her taste away as soon as she pulls away. Their escort is tittering about how "adorable" they are, how tragic. Clove holds up a knife with a wicked smile, and he shuts up. Clove stabs the knife into an apple, brings it to her mouth, taking a huge bite. Smiling as juices drip down her chin and the escort excuses himself from the table. Peeta doesn't look up from his piece of toast.

After a short time, her stylist motions to her. There isn't much time to do anything but, eat, prepare, say goodbye. Clove wonders if she should say something to Peeta, he looks up as she hesitates in the doorway. He gives a small smile, but it's false and broken and scares her into saying nothing.

At the sight of the hovercraft she begins to fidget with excitement again. She takes guesses at the arena, what mutts they will throw at them, what environment it will be, and only hopes it isn't cold. She always hated the cold. She wonders if there will be water. Not the stillness of a lake or the rush of a river but the waves of an ocean. She would like that; to sleep in the sand, and taste salt on his skin.

She doesn't flinch as they put her tracker in. It makes a small bump in her skin and she imagines ripping it out. Enobaria did it with her teeth, her mouth already filled with blood from the boy she killed, and the hovercraft on its way declaring her the Victor. They cut that part out and healed the scars on her arm, but District Two remembers when even the fiercest mentors turned their eyes away and whispered of punishments. Her older brother was killed in a quarry accident, her young sister shot during a supposed crime. Clove makes plans to tear hers out.

Staring out the window she watches the Capitol disappear and mountains and forest pass underneath. Until they blockade it off, leaving her with only artificial light to see her stylist fidget across the craft. He always shifts under her stare, and his bird has been missing since the Reaping. The cage of hair empty but still appalling. He offers her his hand when they depart the hovercraft and she takes it with a harsh grip that makes him squirm.

He walks behind her and chats with a Peacekeeper before leading her into the space that will be her last sight before the arena. She watches as her stylist slips the Peacekeeper money and makes a few quick hand motions. Betting is illegal but his money is on her. Why bother to hide it? She already breaks the law just by training.

The outfit she is given is simple. Clove rolls her eyes without surprise when her stylist is absolutely no help with it. For all knew, it could be cold, hot, wet, dry, or anything really. The jacket is light, but retains heat and comes with just a plain blouse and pants and boots. He blathers on with useless commentary at each piece of clothing she puts on. He helps her put her hair up in a confusing tie but that is necessary to keep her hair out of her face. She tugs lightly at it, satisfied as the alert goes on, and then suddenly punches him in the face. The tube slides down around her silencing his cries of pain and her laughter.

The smile stays on her face, but her laughter dies as the tube rises up. The sun blinds her for a moment and she blinks, immediately adjusting her other senses. It smells like the woods of home but different too. There is no dull smell of deep earth or the cool wind bringing the smells of the upper atmosphere from the top of mountains. Aside from the countdown there is no sound. No clamor of equipment or screams of children. At least, not yet.

When her eyes adjust she can see a field beyond the line of children facing her. There is a lake off to her right, the only water source in site, and she glances behind her to see a forest. It's different but not too different from home. The trees are bigger but not foreign looking. She focuses towards the center. That's all that really matters, even if it's good to know the surroundings. The Cornucopia shines golden in the center of the circle of children, spilling out its weapons and supplies like a Christmas tree that Clove never had.

The gong sounds and twenty-four children run for their lives. Clove has already seen what she wanted, the case of knives was meant for her. She slams into a tribute on her way there but neither has a weapon yet and both continue to run in opposite directions. She didn't even pause to see who it was. Just as shapeless mass that didn't even slow her down.

Reaching the knives she bends down and pulls several out gripping them tightly in her hand and finally opens up to the world around her. Children are screaming now. Marvel brings down a machete on a cowering girl, Peeta grapples with a boy while he has no weapon. The rest is a scramble of faces she doesn't know.

A youngish boy reaches to grab a bag not very far from her. The knife enters him like butter and thuds as the hilt buries into him. He spits up blood as he collapses. She wishes she could hear his cannon but knows it won't happen. Not until later can she claim the sound as one of her own creation. She runs towards the next closest person readying her knives in her hands.

The bloodbath all happens so quickly and yet, in slow motion. She feels every heartbeat and sees every blood stain that blooms from her hands but she misses Peeta choking a boy to death that tried to attack her from behind and where many ran after they were out of her line of sight. She didn't notice when a boy with a spear cuts her arm or how at one point she slipped in a puddle of blood from a fifteen year old girl. Thirteen cannons boom out when it's all over. Clove kills three.

The first, the boy, was apparently from District 5, his heart stopped almost immediately since the knife went right into it. Second, a girl from District 9, tried to play with swords. Clove always found them to be silly weapons with no range. The girl only got one swing in before she had two knives in her chest. The last boy was running away but still in range. She collected her knife and looked at his face; she wanted to be able to identify him in the sky. It told her he was District 6, just like it told her the others.

Marvel claimed three with a smile that Clove recognized mirrored her own. She prickles at the insult of a tie though and so does he when she speaks her number. Glimmer and Jenniver both managed one, apparently fighters. Wayde didn't get any. Clove has a sneaking suspicion that he hid in the Cornucopia. Peeta is silent while they brag and laugh but they know that the numbers don't add up. There are five left and Peeta hasn't claimed a number.

"Nine for District 2?" Clove giggles and grabs at Peeta's hand. He pulls it away. She tries to ignore it.

"Eight," chimes Wayde.

"Oh?" Marvel seems interested, probably to prove us to be weaker or liars, "did someone else participate?"

"The Girl on Fire. You saw her," he gestures towards Peeta, "She got to the bow, hit a guy right in the neck, real quick like, then took out another girl in the way. It was kind of crazy actually." Clove resists stabbing him. She remembers the bodies, two with arrows sticking out of them. She had assumed it was Peeta's doing but now she notices it's a spear by his side and no bow in sight.

She was glad at first that Katniss Everdeen's body hadn't been there. That meant she could still kill her herself or watch as Peeta does it. Now, she is just angry. That should have been his bow and the girl took it, the Gamemakers left that for him. Though if she thought about it, they might have left it for her too, if that's what she showed in the private session. She stabs a knife into the ground barely missing Glimmer's hand.

"Well, I guess we know how she got an eleven," Glimmer pouts, sticking out her bottom lip in what she must think is a sexy way to show them off, Clove imagines slicing it off. She dramatically rubs her hand as if actually injured by Clove and scoots closer to Marvel.

"They are obviously just giving those away!" Clove snaps, remembering that Peeta painted a picture and got the same score. Peeta glances at her and shakes his head a little.

Marvel smirks and Clove realizes she hates him as much as Glimmer, as much as Katniss, as much as everyone, "Lover's quarrel?" She doesn't answer but gets up and storms off towards the lake. Otherwise it will slip out. How he didn't deserve his 11, how he got it. Then he will be dead and she will probably follow.

Peeta grabs her from behind when she is almost at the water. He wraps his arms entirely around her, placing kisses on her bare shoulder. It calms her down from the surprise and anger far quicker than she thinks it should, the way his arms and kisses always seem to. She must have been lost in the anger, to not have heard him approaching.

He leans in and whispers into her ear, the breath ghosting across her skin, "We are supposed to be in love, you know. Maybe you should stop acting like such a huge bitch." She turns around when he loosens his grip and punches him in a way that looks playful but she knows hurts. Then leans up and gives him a kiss on his lips with a laugh. He could have said worse, he could keep ignoring her. The parachute falls right next to them while his arms are still wrapped around her and she laughs and kisses at his jaw. It's a small bottle of water.

District 2 has used this form of communication for years. Most of the districts try, though many can't be trained in it. By the time they are reaped, it's too risky to talk about it so only the Careers openly know the system. Some of the other tributes can manage to pick it up but it's rare. A parachute with a useless object means they did something well. They have plenty of water at the camp.

She expected it after the kills, a present and award for doing something good, impressing the crowd, and instead she gets it after a kiss. She grabs the bottle and stares at in confusion for a moment. Peeta just smiles slightly and grabs her hand, leading her back to group and sliding his hand around her waist as they sit. Maybe the show they want isn't just bloodshed this year. She snuggles closer into his arms.

The other Careers had been watching. They saw the kiss and the parachute fall and most of them can easily put it together. They were trained to put it together even if it wasn't the usual situation. The Capitol loves a show and theirs is beautiful and bloody and tragic. Peeta grabs a sleeping bag for the both of them and they crawl in together. His heat makes her too warm but she doesn't want to move. When she inches her hands down into his pants, he pulls them up and grips them in his own outside the blanket.

"Camera shy?" she whispers and tries to reach back down.

"The build-up makes it better, Clove," he winks and then pulls her in for a kiss. Its soft, his lips gentle and exploring. She closes her eyes and tries to get lost in it, but instead is trapped in confusion. If the Capitol wants a show than shouldn't we be giving them one? Peeta pulls away and then kisses her on the nose before closing his eyes to sleep.

She kicks him lightly in the shin, "What the hell, Peeta?" Leaning back up for another kiss.

He doesn't open his eyes, "Just trust me and snuggle up, buttercup." She buries her face in his bare chest to hide her eye roll. His chest hair tickles at her nose, while the kiss still lingers on her lips and the fire in her belly that she isn't used to keeping unsatisfied growling; she wants him and wants Panem to know. This new Game confuses her but she trusts his decisions within it. The Capitol loved him, us. Strategy is strategy no matter how different.

Clove wonders about his kills instead of falling asleep. His eyes twitch. Is he thinking about them too. Would he be feeling guilt? Remorse? He wouldn't feel pride like her. So why didn't he say his number was three to begin with?

They all believed it was five until Wayde corrected him. He wouldn't brag about killing, wouldn't up his numbers for pleasure or pride. But maybe he would to protect her. Katniss Everdeen revealed her skill sets and has a deadly weapon and no one would know if Wayde didn't say anything. Clove's eyes shut in frustration at the thought. She can deal with his attraction to her, but she won't deal with it putting them in danger. The Girl on Fire won't hesitate to shoot them both in the heart. She bites her tongue; the audience will see the concern as a weakness, for Careers and for their relationship.

They wake up when Glimmer alerts them to the fire. Clove wipes the drool from Peeta's chest and he grabs a shirt from nearby. He seems as surprised as she is that they were able to sleep but her body still feels sluggish and even a little sore. The blood bath was more exhausting than she had thought.

The fire is far into the forest, but they can clearly see the gray smoke rising up into the dark sky. Clove estimates two miles, if the person stays put they can get them within a half hour and anyone dumb enough to light a fire, they can probably track pretty easily. They run into the woods, leaving Glimmer and Wayde to watch the supplies. Wayde pretends to be disappointed and Glimmer pouts. She takes off another layer of clothing, pretending to rest in her underwear not under a blanket despite the cold temperature.

They rush past the trees and through the underbrush and Marvel makes a joke and Clove and Jenniver's laughter echoes through the silent forest. When they get closer and can smell the burnt wood, they slow down and quiet their steps. Peeta is still loud as ever, but Marvel and Jenniver disappear into the woods. Their excited quiet breaths turn into mist in the cold air.

They see her shape outlined by the fire. A young girl is huddled close to the dying flame curling her body into herself to try and stay warm. She doesn't make a sound or move until they are within steps of her, naturally aligning themselves into a predatory half circle around her.

She screams when she finally hears them, and attempts to run. But Marvel is already there, his trained arms grabbing her around her body while Jenniver punches her hard in the face to silence her. Her nose cracks and her screams turn to tears and crying. Their jeers echo through the forest along with her pleas for help and mercy. She finds neither. Marvel spears her through the shoulder, not a kill wound, not even close. The girl's shirt stains red with blood, she cries out and then screams as he rips it back out. She is bent over, weeping, still begging.

Clove twirls the knife in her hand, thinking of which leg to hit. Marvel laughs and turns the spear around, ready to beat the girl with the shaft. Peeta tackles Marvel to the ground as he raises the spear to hit her. Marvel lets out an 'umph' as Peeta knocks the breath out of his lungs, and is pinned underneath the thicker boy easily.

"What the fuck is your problem?" Marvel yells shaking his hands that are pinned to the ground. He tries to kick up his legs but Peeta is larger and just as trained. Jenniver makes a move towards them and Clove throws a knife in front of her face, barely missing, pining itself into the tree just past her. Clove doesn't know what Peeta is doing but she won't let someone take him from behind.

"My problem? You are trying to torture an innocent girl and I have the problem?" Peeta lets go long enough to punch him in the face. Marvel's hands get free and he tries to wrap them around Peeta's neck. Peeta shoves them away.

"Let me go you, asshole," Marvel fights.

"Clove, just kill her and get it over with," he nods his head towards the girl crawling on the ground, crying and holding onto her wound, trying to keep herself from bleeding out. She managed to crawl a few feet away from them towards a large tree.

Clove hesitates. This is what they are supposed to do. The Capitol loves a show and it could help them win. Help them get support that they might need later. He asked her to stop it though. To stop every instinct and every bit of training from years taught with abuse, violence, and hate. She grips the knife harder in her hand and looked at him. Something in his eyes flashed, like pleading and hope and fear.

She turned and slits the girl's throat. Her blood spills quickly and only a few struggling breaths escape before she collapses to the ground and the cannon sounds. Clove looks back up at Peeta with the bloody knife in her hand. He nods at her and jumps back away from Marvel. Clove knows he was testing her, trying to see what her morality would say about torturing the girl, but he didn't want to hear the real answer and she didn't want to see his disappointment so she cut the girl's throat instead and avoids the false hope in his eyes.

Marvel gets up and brushes off his back before reaching down to grab his spear. Clove's knife scrapes across his hand, and causes him to cry out. "It's time to play nice now, Marvel," she smirks. Peeta has picked up a sword while Clove readied another knife, and Jenniver has apparently decided to be neutral and leans on a tree, looking at her nails.

He probably plays the odds out in his head and finds himself losing, "Fine" he grits through his teeth. Clove smiles and motions that he can pick up his spear. He does with a huff and then turns around stomping back towards camp. Peeta hangs back and when Clove walks past him he reaches out and puts a hand around her waist. They walk back to camp together in silence.

Glimmer jumps into Marvel's arms when he gets back to the camp and coos over his cut hand, wrapping it up and even kissing the bandage. The emotional display is strange for in the arena. Caring for someone you have to kill could be considered weak but District 1 isn't stupid and they recognized the pattern. We aren't the only people playing at love in the arena anymore. They could have thought of their own damn plan to get attention.

The next few days are less complicated. Fourteen tributes are dead and ten are left within a day. The Gamemakers will leave them alone for a little bit, letting their own drama play out and their own hunting techniques fail. Peeta and Clove mock at the games that Marvel and Glimmer play. They fuck under the stars and seem like amateurs who play at being tough and dirty when Peeta realizes the Capitol wants soft and honest and love. Tributes fuck all the time, but rarely fall in love.

Clove knows the rules but doesn't understand them. He makes up stories of how they met and their first date and she just nods along and lets out girlish giggles that she fakes so well even Peeta seems confused sometimes. He describes dates that they never went on and things they never did. All of them are wonderful stories with sweet beginnings and happy endings, until they came here. The only dark spot on a perfectly painted relationship was that they could never be. One of them is doomed to die and the Capitol goes crazy for it.

"Do you remember when we met?" Peeta asks. Clove leans back into his chest and smirks.

"Yes, you gave me flowers. Dandelions. I was outside of the Center," she refuses to say out loud that she was crying, but she remembers that too and how an older girl had snapped her arm in training and told her she would never make it to the arena. That she would die in training. "I was eight." She finishes.

Peeta pauses, surprised for a moment that she did actually remember, lies were already dancing on his lips and now he bites them back. "Yes, I did," he drifts off and stares away and she thinks he must be remembering the next time they met. He closes his eyes and breathes into her skin and she thinks of old dying men and how their blood looks when it soaks into the carpet. She remembers how hard Peeta cried with blood soaked into his blonde hair and fear in his blue eyes.

He spoke a few hours later when they washed the blood off of each other's hair and off their skin in the community shower. There had been so much and the body so heavy especially for two small children. "Thank you," he whispered, his eight year old eyes filled with tears.

Little Clove hid her shaking hands and smiled but it felt like broken glass grating on her soul, "It was nothing." She believed it a little at the time. She doesn't anymore.

Now, Peeta grips her waist harder and bites at her skin. "Thank you," he whispers, thinking of the same thing.

Her voice cracks, "You're welcome."

A/N Hello! Just wanted to say I am not dead : ) I will be working on my other stories soon! Sorry I have been travelling a lot and just haven't had that much time. I hope you enjoy this update and any other stories that I write soon!