A/N: This is basically Glee characters in the Hunger Games universe. It should take place a couple of years after the first book and it disregards the second and third books.

Six days in the arena without a scratch and her first injury comes from tripping over a tree root.

She's not even that surprised because, duh, that would happen to her. Back home, they used to joke about what would kill them in the Games. "I bet I would die at the Cornucopia," Quinn always said.

"I'm good in hand-to-hand combat, its finding water and food that would trip me up," said Tina. Brittany had been much less optimistic. "I would probably step off the circle too early and get blown up."

It was all hypothetical, of course. Until the Reaping, when Santana's name was called out, loud and clear over all of District 7.

Santana spits the dirt out of her mouth and tries to pull herself to her feet. A sharp pain in her ankle sends her right back down again. Shit. Any kind of injury can mean the difference between life and death; she can't remember how many times Johanna Mason said that while they were training. And Johanna's right. If Santana's ankle is broken, she's out of the Games for good.

It's almost night time and Santana knows her friends are home from work, eating soup and bread for dinner as they watch the Capitol's broadcast. Brittany is probably sitting with her cat on her lap, holding her breath as the cameras pan across Santana's immobile body. The pain in her heart at memories of Brittany surpasses that in the rest of her body and she tries once again to pull herself to a standing position. Her ankle won't support her weight, and she leans against a tree trunk, balancing awkwardly on one foot. She's not scared so much as angry; how could she have let this happen, after she'd been so careful? After she'd stayed out of sight, rationed her water, spied on the tributes—this cannot be her downfall. She's determined to get out of this alive.

As she begins to hobble over to pick up her fallen pack, the leaves in front of her begin to rustle. Somebody is making their way through the trees, not bothering to keep quiet, knowing whoever they stumble across will be no match for them anyway. Santana gulps. Now she's scared.

Scared shitless.

She picks up her pack and contemplates pulling out her knife before deciding it's too late. The trees in front of her part and when she sees who it is, her mouth turns down in a scowl, though her heart continues to pound.

"You," she snarls.

"Me," he replies.

"Are you going to kill me?"

Sebastian takes a step towards her. He's not holding his weapon, though it's only a small comfort to her. "Why would I kill you?"

Santana laughs, a short bark that does nothing to make her sound amused. "Have you forgotten where we are? What we're doing?"

She doesn't like him. He's from a different part of District 7 than she is, one where the kids go to school until they're grown up, one where people become doctors and lawyers and businessmen. Santana and her friends have been wielding axes since they were twelve, crafting tables and chairs with their own bare hands, chopping lumber that Sebastian's family probably tosses into their fires in the winter without a second thought. He's everything she despises about life in the districts, everything that reminds her of the godforsaken Capitol and their stupid Hunger Games. And now he's standing in front of her, looking at her condescendingly, and he doesn't even have the decency to unsheathe the sword that's hanging from his belt.

"We're not in training anymore," Santana says, and her voice shakes.

Sebastian just shrugs. "Were we ever?"

"What do you mean?" Santana spits, "of course we were. Now we're not. This is the real deal, Smythe, are you gonna kill me or stand there like an idiot? Because it's evening and I'd like to get to bed."

Sebastian pulls out his sword in one fluid motion and Santana instinctively takes a step back. She lands on her injured ankle and white hot pain shoots through her body. It's all she can do to continue standing upright, even though her eyes are watering like crazy. "You're hurt," Sebastian says, barely looking at her as he examines his blade in the twilight.

"It's not bad," Santana snaps. She doesn't want his sympathy. If he's going to kill her, she wants to be able to spit in his face as she dies. It's the least she can do. For her parents, for her friends, for Britt...

No. No Britt. If Santana thinks of her, she won't be able to hold it together.

"The quality of this weapon is surprisingly high," Sebastian says suddenly. "They really put a lot of effort into this." He sheaths the sword again and takes several steps towards Santana. "Can you walk or would you like me to carry you?"

Santana blinks hard. "Carry me where?"

"This isn't exactly the best place to camp," Sebastian says, motioning to their surroundings with his hands. "Too many trees. Someone could easily sneak up on us and we wouldn't even realize it until they were ten yards away." He smiles. "Kind of like I just did."

"So you're saying you want to kill me somewhere more open?"

Sebastian looks impatient for the first time. "Haven't we already established that I'm not going to kill you? Wow, and I thought you were smart. You've certainly given your sponsors the wrong impression. Johanna was working all the angles, wasn't she?"

"Johanna wasn't working anything!" Santana exclaims. "And excuse me if my expectation was to be killed in this arena. It's kind of the point of the Games, you know!"

"Walk or be carried, you haven't told me yet," is all Sebastian says in reply.

Santana gingerly tests her foot on the ground. It barely supports her weight. "I won't be carried," she says stubbornly.

"Fine," Sebastian replies. "Then let me help." Before Santana can protest, he's taken several steps toward her and wrapped an arm around her waist. "Put your arm around my shoulder and lean into me," Sebastian says. "Use me as a crutch." It's a difficult maneuver due to their height difference, but Santana manages it.

"Just so you know, this doesn't mean I owe you anything," she says, her voice shaking with the pain of moving so soon after her injury. "I want to win these Games as much as anyone."

"I have no doubt of that," Sebastian replies. They reach a clearing and Santana drops down to the ground, exhausted. "This will work for now, I guess," Sebastian says. "Let's get behind those logs and disguise ourselves for the night." Santana heaves herself up again and moves to the safer area, as Sebastian begins to gather an assortment of leaves and branches. When he puts them over her body, she's still quite visible.

"You're no Peeta Mellark," she says breathlessly.

"And you're no Katniss. But it'll work for one night." Sebastian reaches for her pack and suddenly Santana realizes what he's done. He's going to rob her and leave her in the trees. Maybe he feels bad killing a fellow District 7 tribute, maybe he wants someone else to do his dirty work instead. She tries to prop herself up on her elbows, thinking maybe she can aim a punch at his face. But he's too far away.

"Give it back," she says weakly.

Sebastian looks up at her. "Ruin my hard work, why don't you," he replies, and she sees that she's dislodged some of his camouflage. "And relax, I'm not stealing anything." He locates her knife and pulls it out, and for another wild moment, she thinks he's going to finish her off.

But he doesn't. He sets it down on the log, visible to both of them and far out of her reach.

"For safekeeping," he says, tossing the pack next to her. He takes out his sword once again and places it next to the knife. "Go to sleep, I'll do the watch. You need to heal."

He could still strangle her with his bare hands, Santana reasons. But then exhaustion overcomes her, and against her better judgment, she goes to sleep.

The next two days pass in a haze of sleeping and waking, of pain and hunger and thirst. Her ankle, it transpires, is not broken, but she has a bad sprain. Sebastian wraps it up in some kind of fabric—she's not sure what, because it hurts like a bitch and she has to focus all her energy to keep from screaming. He keeps thrusting a sword into her hands and leaving her for hours at a time to find them some food, but she always falls asleep when he's gone and she knows that if anyone were to stumble across their camp, she'd be dead. But nobody does. Sebastian eventually finds water, and once she's hydrated she finds that she's able to fully wake up for the first time.

She props herself up against a log and watches as Sebastian hacks away at a tree branch with her knife. "So why are you really taking care of me?" she asks. His face is screwed up in concentration and it's a while before he responds.

"I have nothing else to do," he replies. "Boredom."

"Don't give me that crap, we're in the freaking Hunger Games," Santana replies. "You could be halfway across the arena if you didn't have me. You could go back to the Cornucopia."

"I did that before I found you," Sebastian says dully. "Nothing good, not anymore."

"Oh." Santana says.

There's a long silence before she speaks again.

"But like...we hated each other before this."

He raises an eyebrow. "Did we?"

"I mean, I didn't know you but I hated you on principle. And then in training, I hated you for real." It's true, she did hate him. And with good reason. He was cocky and rude, he was easily irritated, he never listened to anything that their prep team had to say. Nobody liked him. Who was he to suddenly act like this changed man, this perfect gentleman, taking care of one of his enemies simply because it was the right thing to do?

"If I don't win these Games, it should be you," Sebastian says simply. "That's the tradition. Districts stick together. Can you remember a Games where someone killed the other tribute from their own district?"

Santana isn't sure. Certainly not in her recent memory. "But as long as I'm alive, you haven't won yet," she reasons.

"I don't believe that's an issue right now." He looks up at the sky. "Only five people have been killed."

Santana is surprised by that. "Five?" She remembers the count she was keeping before she got injured and passed out for days. It was five. "You mean nobody died while I was sleeping?"

Sebastian shakes his head. "No one."

"But then, this is turning out to be a pretty boring Games."

Sebastian nods. "Boring indeed." He unexpectedly tosses her the piece of wood that he's been messing with, and she barely reaches out quickly enough to catch it. "Nice reflexes," he says approvingly.

"What is it?" Santana asks, turning it over in her hands. It's a long branch, several feet, and he's scraped off all the bark so that it's smooth and even.

"It's a cane," Sebastian says. "So you can try to walk again. I can't do all of this cooking and cleaning and hunting on my own, you know."

"Oh." Santana wedges one end of the cane firmly into the ground and pulls herself to her feet. Her legs are weak from lack of use, but her ankle can support a little more weight than before. She hobbles around awkwardly until she establishes a rhythm. Sebastian just watches her. "It'll work," she says finally.

"Excellent," Sebastian says, "because we're moving camp tomorrow."

They find a secluded cave and establish a routine. Sebastian hunts and finds water during the day, and Santana cooks the meat while the sun is bright enough to hide the smoke. She practices walking until she barely needs the cane anymore, and she gathers berries and herbs based on the ones she used to eat back home. Sebastian doesn't believe that she knows what's poisonous and what's not, so she eats it all first to prove to him that it's safe. She knows what she's talking about. She and Brittany have been eating berries from the forest since they were five years old.

It's been so long since she's heard the cannon that she almost doesn't recognize the booming sound. When she hears it again, she realizes it's close, way too close. Sebastian is out hunting and she sits still for twenty agonizing minutes, trying to decide if she should run. She has no idea how to find Sebastian, and she knows that the courageous thing to do would be to stay and fight, but she's not sure if she can do that. It doesn't immediately cross her mind that the cannon might be for Sebastian himself, but once the thought occurs to her, she's paralyzed with fear. When Sebastian comes back she nearly jumps out of her skin, thinking whoever killed the last tribute has come to get her, too. And then she notices that he's swinging an axe in his hands.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," he says.

"I heard the cannon," she replies, trying to stop her pounding heart. "I thought..."

"That I died? Nah." He seems far too calm considering this is the first death in a week and that's when she sees that there's blood on the edge of his new axe.

"You..." she begins breathlessly.

Sebastian drops the axe and sits down, looking at the squirrel meat that's roasting over the fire. "This looks good," he says. "Better than usual, I think, don't you agree?"

"Don't change the subject," she says.

Sebastian sighs. He suddenly looks uncertain and it's a look she's never seen him wear before. "She was going to kill me," he says finally. "She came out of nowhere, swinging this thing at my head. I wrestled it out of her hands but then she pulled out a sword." He shrugs. "So I...you know." He points lamely at the axe and now he looks just as nervous as Santana had felt. She looks down to his lap and sees that his hands are shaking.

"You had to do it," she says, more for her own comfort than for his. "She would have killed you."

"I should have let her."

"And then she would have come this way and killed me." Santana shakes her head. "We have a responsibility to stay alive, Sebastian."

"Do we?" he asks.

"Yes!" Santana suddenly feels angry. "Yes we do, maybe not to yourself, if you don't feel that way, but to everyone else! To the people back home!"

To Brittany.

"There's nobody at home that would miss me," Sebastian says. "No one."

"Well fuck, I'll just kill you now, then!" Santana replies. She doesn't know why he's making her so furious, she only knows that if she loved someone and they went to the Hunger Games, she'd be hopping mad if they just gave up. And she knows Sebastian must feel what she's feeling because he wouldn't have taken an axe to some girl's head if he didn't. "You just...you need to stop with this self-pitying crap," she says. "It's not helping anyone."

"You're right," he says, but he still looks pale. And she remembers that he just killed someone and, well, that's gotta be tough. So maybe she should cut him some slack.

She forces herself to calm down. "At least we have an axe now," she says. "My weapon of choice, I have to say."

"I did think about that," Sebastian says. "It is the symbol of District 7, after all. Are you good with it?"

"The best," Santana says. "And killing people can't be too much harder than hacking a tree, can it?"

Sebastian shudders. "Let's stick to the trees as much as we can," he replies.

Santana shrugs. "Not as exciting, but okay. I guess I can make us a coffee table or something."

Sebastian looks around them. "With all this wood? You better make us a damn palace."

"Who's Blaine?" she asks one day.

Sebastian looks up from the knife is sharpening. "What?"

"You talk in your sleep sometimes." She shrugs. "You say his name."

"Oh." Sebastian looks down at the ground. It's the first time since he killed that girl that he's seemed vulnerable.

"Is he from home?" Santana presses.

"Yeah," Sebastian replies. "He goes to school with me. At Dalton."

Santana just nods. She wants to ask, but she's not sure quite how to bring it up, and then...

"I like him."

"Have you guys been together long?" Santana asks, not because she really cares but because she wants to fill the silence and okay, maybe she cares just a little.

Sebastian shakes his head. "No, we're not together at all. We're just friends."

"Oh." Santana slowly strips the skin off a squirrel. "But you want to be with him."

Sebastian nods. "Yeah," he says quietly. "And if I win, maybe I can be."

"Or maybe he isn't going to like you just because you're famous," Santana says. "Maybe there's a reason he doesn't like you now." She's not sure why she's saying it except that his talk of winning bothers her, probably because if he wins then she loses and she's got a lot more than a schoolboy crush waiting for her back home.

"Maybe it won't matter," Sebastian says, looking at her reproachfully as though she's broken their unspoken contract of civility.

"Maybe it won't," Santana shoots back. She continues to work on the squirrel with shaking hands, wondering if the mysterious Blaine is watching this on TV and thinking about how the feeling is mutual, how he wants Sebastian to come back. How Santana needs to die in order for that to happen.

Or maybe Blaine isn't paying attention because he's with some other guy right now and because nobody in all of Dalton cares about the arrogant asshole Sebastian.

It starts to get colder in the arena. The Gamemakers are trying to weed them out. Santana shivers all night without a sleeping bag, until Sebastian wraps his arms around her from behind. She tells herself it's okay because her body is shaking like a leaf and his chest feels warm and comforting against her back. The next night, he holds open his sleeping bag expectantly and she slips inside, tucking her face into the crook of his neck. He smells musty and dirty and doesn't feel anything like Brittany.

She sleeps soundly for the first time in days.

"Why do you think only six people have died?" she asks after the second week goes by. "Shouldn't there be more by now?"

"Nobody wants to fight anymore," Sebastian says. "I know you live in Lima Heights but don't you watch the news? People protest the Hunger Games every day."

"I don't know, I just thought that when it came down to it..."

"We'd all become ruthless killers just like them? Just like the Capitol?" Sebastian cocks his eyebrow as he looks at her. "Is that what you think of me, Santana? Do you think I'm going to kill you?"

"Why shouldn't I think that?" Santana shoots back. She's sick of his nice guy act, his hero facade, she knows he's going to kill her. It's the only way. Kill or be killed, that's the whole point of the Hunger Games; who is he to deny it?

"Perhaps I'll let you kill me," Sebastian says.

"I wish I could kill you right now," Santana mutters.

Sebastian holds his arms out, baring his chest. "What's stopping you?"

Nothing is stopping either of them and they both know it. They have a knife, a sword, and an axe between them. Either of them could run the other one through while they slept, if they wanted. Santana won't do it, though. Not yet, she tells herself. Not ever, she thinks.

She's a fighter but she's never killed before.

Sebastian finds the camera in their cave and covers it up. She knows the Gamemakers will want to punish them for it and maybe they will but she can't pretend she's not glad for the privacy. It's become clear to everyone in the arena that they're not going to kill each other, which means they're probably not going to get out of there alive. And though she knows she doesn't want to participate in the Games, she can't help but feel like she's giving up. She doesn't want her friends to have to watch that. So the camera stays covered.

That night, after they tuck into their sleeping bag, Sebastian's hands wander all over her body. It feels uncomfortable but she can't bring herself to tell him to stop. He does it lazily, like he's half-sleeping already, like he's barely even thinking about it. When she lifts her head to look at him, their lips meet. They kiss momentarily and then she ducks back down, resting her cheek against his chest, feeling the pounding of his heart resonating through her head. It matches the way her own heart is quickly beating, and they lie for a long time in the darkness, knowing the other is awake but not knowing how to speak.

They don't talk about it again, but the next night, she kisses him as soon as she lays down. This time it's surer, it's hungrier, and she doesn't want it to stop. He slides his hands under her clothes and touches her in ways that remind her of Brittany. It reminds her of warm summer nights under the trees in District 7, after the lumber factories have closed and everyone has gone to sleep. It reminds her of swimming in the lake, of eating fruits from the forest, of laying in the soft grass by the town square. It's everything good about home, and it all comes back to her as he trails his fingers softly across her skin.

Every day, they go about their business, never discussing what continues to happen under the cover of darkness. The night when they finally go all the way, she's surprised to discover that she's been waiting for it. She wants it, she's ready for it; he is too. They go slowly and gently, barely speaking, lost completely in their own thoughts. It's the first legitimately good feeling she's had since the Reaping, and when she finally feels him tensing beneath her, she forgets herself and cries out a name as pleasure rolls through every inch of her body. Sebastian holds her tightly, buries his face in her hair, until her breathing returns to normal and her muscles relax. She looks into his dark, searching eyes, and he touches her cheek gently.

"Who's Brittany?"

As soon as she starts talking about Brittany, she can't stop. She tells him about how they met in school when they were five and how they immediately became best friends. She tells him about how they once ran away from home for three days and only came back because they were too hungry. She tells him about their first kiss, their first fight, the first time she realized she was in love. Most of her friends back home haven't even heard these stories. Brittany's the only one who knows them.

Sebastian opens up to her, too. He talks about his lawyer father and his distant mother, about going to Dalton and hating all the boys there. He tells her a little bit about Blaine, his unrequited crush, and how his friends would tear him apart if they ever found out he was into another guy. He doesn't want to be a lawyer; he doesn't even like going to school. He doesn't seem to like much of anything.

"You're so different than I imagined," she says one day. "Especially considering how you acted during training."

"I was angry," he says simply.

"Johanna was ready to kill you," she says. "You didn't test well with the audiences at all. They thought you were cocky and mean."

Sebastian smirks. "Johanna told you that?"

"Yeah."

"I always hated her."

Santana doesn't say anything. She doesn't really feel hate for anyone anymore.

"She made you look so confident, so wily," Sebastian continues. "And she painted me as the villain. It's like she didn't even want me to stay alive." Sebastian looks at Santana. "She wants you to win this, she always has."

"It's because you made yourself unlikable!" Santana protests. "You ignored all her advice and you made an ass of yourself on Caesar Flickerman's stupid show. That's why you couldn't get any sponsors."

"Well maybe I don't want sponsors," Sebastian shot back. "Maybe I don't care about what a bunch of rich idiots who never met me think of me. Why does it matter?"

"It matters because it's life and death!" Santana says. "They can help us get home."

"One of us," Sebastian corrects. "One of us can get home."

She wants to say something in return, but her breath catches in her throat at the way he's looking at her.

She realizes that he never intended to win the Hunger Games. He doesn't want to live.

At the start of the third week, the Gamemakers send a fire. It chases them all the way back to the Cornucopia, obliterating everything in between. It's not a fire intended to make the Games more interesting—it's a fire intended to destroy. By refusing to kill each other, they've made the Gamemakers angry. They've defied them. Now they will pay the price.

Twelve people die in the fire, and the booming of the cannon causes the earth to tremble as Santana and Sebastian drag themselves to safety. They're both badly burned, and there's a river on the other side of the Cornucopia, if they can only get themselves to it. But as soon as they pass the Cornucopia, Sebastian collapses onto the dirt, moaning in pain.

"We have to get to river," Santana gasps. It's close enough that she can hear the rushing of the water, and they can get there in a matter of minutes if Sebastian will only get up.

"I can't!" he gasps. "It hurts!"

The burn on her arm is excruciating and she's so beyond sympathy for him right now. "You don't have a choice!" she shouts, but he doesn't make a move to get up. She catches her breath for a moment and then marches over to him, grabbing him beneath the arms. She's hoping that the action will make him get up, but he still won't. So she has no choice but to drag him across the dirt.

"You're heavy as shit, you know that?" she says breathlessly as she pulls his writing body towards the river. Her leg protests with every step and she's not sure how much longer she can continue walking.

Just as she's about to give up and drop Sebastian to the ground, the river comes into sight and she finds the strength she needs to get them the rest of the way there. She drops him on the bank and falls to his side, gasping. She looks at his burns. They're all up his arm and part of his shirt is seared off near the stomach. She reaches over and starts to pull it off.

"Don't," Sebastian chokes out.

"It's nothing I haven't seen before," Santana says, and even in her injured state she still feels a twinge of discomfort at finally acknowledging what they've been doing every night. But Sebastian appears to be past caring, and he does not protest as she lifts the shirt gingerly over his head. His pants are charred and she decides to pull those off as well, just in case there are burns underneath. He cries out as she does it and she realizes that his legs are blistered and red all over.

"Fuck, it hurts so bad!" he cries.

"Just hang on," Santana replies. She pulls off her own pants so they won't get wet and then she drags them both into the river. As the water splashes her burn, pain overcomes her, nearly causing her to black out. By the time her vision returns, she realizes that Sebastian is yelling and thrashing, trying to get out of the water. She pulls his head into her lap and steadies his chest with her hands, holding him until his screams turn into dull moans and the water begins to do its work on the bright red flesh.

"I'm dying," Sebastian whimpers. His cheeks are wet with tears.

"You're not dying," Santana says firmly. She leans her forehead against his and breathes deeply as the water rushes over her legs and around Sebastian's neck. She has no idea how badly Sebastian is hurt, and she fights off a rising feeling of panic. They can worry about that in a minute. Right now, she needs to catch her breath and cool him off until he can walk again.

She's exhausted and she almost falls asleep, leaning forward against him, but his low murmur wakes her. "Thank you for saving me," he croaks.

"You did the same thing for me," she replies simply. "Now we're even."

It's a reasonable suggestion, but they both know it's so much more than that.

"We should move," he says.

"Can you?"

"I don't know. But we're both gonna die if someone comes over here right now."

It's the last thing she wants to do, but she knows he's right. She lifts him gently into a sitting position. "We need to find someplace close to the water," she says. "You're gonna be in pain if you try to get out right now."

He smiles wryly. "I'm already in pain," he says. He scoots forward, towards the center of the river. "It gets deeper. Maybe we can wade downstream."

"Okay." Santana crawls back to the bank and grabs their clothes. Then she follows Sebastian towards deeper waters, until the water comes up to her waist. She sees the burns on Sebastian's stomach and arm clearly for the first time. They're both beginning to blister. She splashes water on them.

"Ouch," Sebastian says.

"We need to keep them cool," Santana replies.

"Do you know about treating burns?"

"No," she admits.

He shrugs. "Well, me neither. I guess I trust you." He takes a step and winces. "This is going to be tough."

"Do you need me to carry you again?" she jokes.

Sebastian manages a smile. "I think I can handle it."

They follow the river downstream. Santana is constantly on her guard. She's convinced that someone will jump out of the forest at any moment, but the fire has probably injured enough of them that nobody is on the prowl at the moment. Still, she keeps her eyes peeled for any hint of a secluded area, hoping they can quickly find somewhere to make camp. Besides, the sun has already passed the highest point in the sky and she doesn't know how much longer they have until dark. The days seem to be getting shorter. It's probably the Gamemakers' doing.

After nearly an hour, Sebastian slows to a stop. "I don't think I can take much more of this," he says. He's shivering slightly—the air is beginning to cool. Santana wants to make sure their clothes dry before the sun goes down.

"Okay," she says. "This is good enough, I guess."

They get out of the water and find a clump of trees that seems secluded enough to be safe. Sebastian lies down immediately, but Santana begins gathering sticks, hoping to make a tiny fire while the sun is still bright enough to obscure the smoke. "Come on," he says. "Rest a little. Your arm must be hurting." He looks pointedly at her injured flesh.

"It's fine," she says, even though it's not really fine and she feels like her legs are about to give out beneath her. Sebastian pulls himself up to a sitting position and when she walks near him to deposit the branches she's found, he reaches out and grabs her legs. She topples towards him and steadies herself by grabbing onto his shoulders. "Hey! What are you doing?"

"You need to rest," Sebastian says, pulling her down into his lap. He situates her so that she's not putting pressure on his legs, and pulls her back against him. "Your hair is wet and you look pretty," he says quietly.

Santana doesn't know how to react so she just laughs awkwardly and tries to get up. But he holds her tight. "I didn't think I was your type," she says.

He snuggles his face into the back of her neck. "I bet you're everyone's type," he mumbles.

She doesn't understand. Actually, she realizes that he doesn't understand what she's getting at. She wants to ask about Blaine or say something about Brittany but her words get stuck in her throat and she realizes that she doesn't want to ruin the moment. And then she realizes that they're having a moment. And it scares her. "Cameras," she says quietly.

"Don't think they can see us from here," Sebastian says. His lips brush her neck when he talks and she shivers.

"Cameras are everywhere," she whispers, but it's not like it matters because she's liking the feeling of being so close to him and she doesn't want it to stop.

"Santana," he says quietly. "We're going to die in here. Why do you care what anyone else thinks?"

She doesn't have an answer for that.

Santana tries different plants on Sebastian's burns but it's no use. He just seems to be getting worse—his legs are weak and he can't walk for more than about five minutes before becoming exhausted. Santana keeps hoping that there will be some sort of gift for them, from a sponsor, but there's not. Either everyone's given up on them or, more likely, the Gamemakers aren't making any deliveries. Santana doesn't blame them. This year is turning out to be the biggest failure the Games have ever seen. The last thing they'll want to do is give anyone outside help.

It's been so long since they've seen anyone that they've almost completely forgotten there are other people in the arena with them. They've stopped worrying about the smoke from their fires, their noise level, and even about leaving tracks behind. As they're cooking dinner one night, Santana barely registers the sound of footsteps until its way too close. Sebastian actually hears it first. They're in the middle of making plans for tomorrow when he suddenly grows quiet and places his hand on her forearm.

"Do you hear that?" he asks quietly.

"Hear what?"

"Shh. That sound. Of crunching leaves."

Santana cocks her head and listens. "No," she says after a moment. "I don't hear anything."

"They must have stopped when we got quiet." Sebastian looks worried. "We should leave."

"But-" Santana looks at the squirrel she's cooking. "At least let me finish making dinner."

Sebastian looks at her incredulously. "Santana, there's no time," he says. "There's someone here!"

"Maybe you're just hearing things," Santana replies. "I didn't hear anything."

Sebastian is about to reply when she hears the definitive sound of crunching, and in a moment the trees are parting and someone is stepping through the leaves towards them. Santana's heart stops.

"Well, well," the newcomer snarls. "Two of you. Perfect."

Santana recognizes him from training, because even then, he was terrifying. His name is Ryder Lynn, and he's bigger than both of them, big enough to take both of them, at the same time. Santana reaches quickly for the sword on her belt. Ryder sees and makes a sudden move towards them.

"Run!" Sebastian cries, and Santana is on her feet without a second thought.

Sebastian aims his axe at Ryder and Santana hears it make contact, but she doesn't have time to see how closely Sebastian has hit his mark because soon she's tearing through the trees and she can't think about anything but getting to safety. She hears Sebastian behind her, hears the panting of his breath, until his footsteps slow down and the distance between them increases. "Sebastian!" Santana gasps. "Are you there?"

"Y-yeah," Sebastian puffs, and Santana turns around to see him hobbling along as fast as he can. "It's just—my burn—" He clutches at the side of his stomach.

"Come on, there's no time!" Santana calls back, and as Sebastian slows to a halt, she can hear the crunching and snapping of twigs as Ryder catches up to them. "We need to go."

Sebastian takes a quick breath and then starts moving again. Santana turns around and continues running. Her lungs are screaming for a break but she pushes onward, trying to forget her pain, trying to think only of getting away from Ryder as fast as she can.

But it's not long before Sebastian is slowing down again, and this time Santana's not sure he's ever going to speed up again. "Se-Sebastian," she pants. "Don't stop…"

She hears a thud and immediately spins around. Sebastian has fallen to his knees. He's shaking his head. "Go," he gasps. "Get out of here."

"No." Santana hurries back towards him. But just as she reaches him, Ryder bursts out of the trees. He's out of breath and sweating, but his mouth is twisted into a snarl.

"There you are," he says.

Santana doesn't hesitate before whipping her sword out of her belt and marching towards him. "I'll give you one chance," she says. "Leave us alone, or I'll use this on you."

Ryder scoffs; there's no sign of fear in his eyes. "Yeah right," he says. "Like you could really kill me."

Santana's hands are shaking and she tightens them around the handle of the sword, stepping even closer to him. "I'm serious," she says. "There's two of us and one of you. Think about what you're doing."

Ryder's eyes flick over to Sebastian and then back to Santana. He smirks. "Yeah, it looks like your friend's in real good shape."

"I'm going to count to three," Santana says seriously. Her heart is racing, and part of her still hopes she won't have to do this. "One..."

Ryder smiles.

"Two…"

He reaches for the knife at his belt.

"Three!" Santana charges as Ryder whips out his knife and throws it forward in one fluid motion. Santana doesn't see where it's going but she knows she has to duck, and she thrusts forward blindly with her sword. It makes contact with flesh, but as she pulls back, she sees that all she's managed to do is stab Ryder in the arm. She pulls out her sword and prepares to deliver another blow but Ryder is off like a rocket, darting into the trees faster than she can even think to chase after him. She drops the sword to the ground and puts her hands on her knees, catching her breath. Then she hears the sound of movement behind her.

"Santana…"

Santana turns around and her heart jumps into her throat as she realizes that Ryder hadn't been aiming the knife at her. Sebastian is lying on the ground, knife sticking out of his chest. Santana runs to him, places her hand on the handle. She's not sure if she should pull the knife out—she doesn't want to risk him bleeding to death. "Oh my God," she gasps. "You're hit."

"Ow," Sebastian replies.

"I'm going to rip your shirt to make a bandage." She feels sick to her stomach. There's so much blood.

"Don't," he says weakly. "There's no use."

"No, come on, don't do this again," Santana says, panic rising in her chest. "This is just like the fire, you're gonna be fine."

"I'm not fine," Sebastian says. "I'm broken. I was hurt before he even hit me."

"No," she says firmly. "Stop." She reaches for the hem of his shirt and attempts to rip off a piece, but her hands are shaking like leaves. "I'm going to help you."

"You already tried," Sebastian says. "You need to leave. He might come back."

"He won't, I got him pretty good," she replies. "I-I need to rip this up. Hold still." She realizes that her eyes are tearing up and she forces herself to take several deep breaths, forces herself to focus on the task of making a bandage. But she can't focus. She can see it in his eyes, that he's giving up. "Sebastian, please."

"Come here," he says softly. "Close to me."

Santana sniffles. "No," she says. "Later, I'm busy."

"San…" Sebastian says. "I need to tell you something."

Santana stops her fruitless attempts to rip his shirt. She leans towards him, careful to avoid the knife, and places her ear by his mouth. "What is it?" she asks.

"Don't tell anyone what happened with us," Sebastian says.

"W-why?" Santana asks, her voice trembling.

"Because it was special," he whispers. "When you get out of here, they're going to ask you about it. And you're not going to tell them."

"No," she says, pulling away. "No, I'm not getting out of here, I'm not leaving without you."

"You don't have a choice," Sebastian replies. She can see his face getting paler by the second, and she shakes her head rapidly.

"No please, I can't do it-"

"You can," he says. "You're strong. Stronger than me. You always were..."

He takes a shuddering breath. Santana can't even reply, her voice is stuck in her throat and she feels like she's being torn apart. She grabs his hand and squeezes it tightly.

"Tell Brittany hi for me," he continues. "Tell her I wish I could have met her. I feel like I did."

Santana chokes back a sob.

"Do me a favor," Sebastian says after a moment, and Santana feels all the air leave her lungs as she realizes that this is it. She wants to scream, to hold him there, but she knows that there's nothing she can do now to keep him with her. "Kiss me," Sebastian croaks. "One more time…"

Santana doesn't hesitate. She doesn't think about the fact that every television in every district must be showing this moment, this intimate moment that no one else should ever get to see. She leans down, tears streaming down her face, to press her lips softly against his. When she pulls away, his eyes are closed.

The boom of the cannon echoes through the trees. She buries her face in his chest and sobs.

She isn't sure how long she stays there, but no one comes to bother her, no strange spaceship comes to pick him up. She cries until she has no more tears, and then she just lies there exhaustedly, tracing her fingers over Sebastian's lifeless body. As she nears his waist, her hand settles on the cold metal of the axe, so sharp and biting compared to the softness and warmth that still lingers in his skin. It's been used to kill only once, when Sebastian was forced to defend himself. Suddenly, Santana is angry. Sebastian never meant to kill anyone. He never wanted to. Why did he have to die?

She tries to relax against his body, to spend these last moments in peace before something comes to carry him away. But now she can't rest. Anger courses through her veins, making her restless, and she finds herself lifting the axe from Sebastian's belt and turning it over in her hands. It's much newer, much nicer than the one she uses to cut trees. The blade is sharp and almost impossibly thin. This isn't a weapon meant for cutting down trees. This is a weapon meant for killing, and she realizes that's exactly what she wants to do. She wants to hunt down Ryder and slice him to bits, she wants to kill anyone that gets in her way. She wants to break free from this godforsaken arena. She wants to go home.

Santana slides the axe into her belt and starts walking.

Nothing is ever the same after the Games. That's the one thing Santana is most unprepared for. Johanna taught her how to find food, how to make shelter, even how to kill—but never how to leave. After the initial shock of her final kill, after being lifted from the arena in a daze and hospitalized for a week—when she finally comes to her senses, she feels broken. She can't fathom that she's actually going home. She can barely even remember what home is. She doesn't feel like a winner.

She feels like a murderer.

Johanna seems to sense it because she doesn't shower Santana with congratulations. She simply wraps her in a tight hug, tells her she did good, tells her everything is going to be okay. Santana's stylist gives her a simple black dress for her final interview. Johanna coaches her through generic answers to the questions she's sure to be asked. No one on the District 7 team is treating this like a victory. She wonders if this is the first time they've really contemplated the horror of the Games.

On Caesar Flickerman's show, Santana barely registers the fact that she's being celebrated in front of all of Panem. She just goes through the answers that Johanna taught her, smiling when she thinks it's appropriate but mostly maintaining a zombie-like detachment from reality. She says everything she's supposed to: how laying low for so long had been part of her plan, how she'd always known the axe would be the weapon that would save her, how she'd been intending to form an alliance with Sebastian from the start. She knows she's going to be asked about the kiss. And she knows what she's supposed to say.

"That moment, when Sebastian was hit with the knife," Caesar asks finally, and Santana feels herself tense. "I don't think you'll be surprised to heart there wasn't a dry eye in all of Panem. What were you feeling at that moment? As I recall, you and Sebastian were not close during the training period."

"No," Santana says quietly. "We weren't."

"Were you losing a new friend in that arena? Or perhaps, something more?"

Santana pauses for a moment. She never told Johanna what happened between her and Sebastian, though Johanna didn't particularly care for the details. Johanna only cared about Santana's image, and it was decided that a touching love story was a great way to balance out the ruthlessness force that she'd become after his death. She needed something to redeem herself from the murders that she'd committed.

But she'd also made a promise to Sebastian. And to her, that's more important than giving Panem what they want. So she decides to tell the truth.

"I loved Sebastian," she says carefully. "But my heart belongs to someone else."

For the first time, Caesar is speechless.

()()()

Santana can't quite manage to be excited as she takes the train back to District 7. Of course she can't wait to see her family, her friends, everyone's joyful and relieved faces, but she's also scared. Scared because that person who killed four people in the arena, hacked them to death with an axe, that wasn't her. Sure, the killing was necessary. But the violence, the heartlessness she had displayed…could anyone really forgive her for it? Would they be just a little scared of her?

If she's being honest, she's a little bit scared of herself.

The journey is over before she's really ready for it, and Johanna comes to get her from her cabin just as she feels the train slowing down. "How are you?" Johanna asks.

"Fine," Santana replies. She doesn't have to pretend to be happy around Johanna. Johanna understands.

"Come on," she says. "They're waiting for you."

Santana can hear shouting outside. She follows Johanna down the corridor of the train and takes a deep breath as the door slides open for them. For a moment, she can see the huge crowd of people that have gathered by the tracks. But then she steps onto the platform and is immediately enveloped into a hug from all sides. It takes her a moment to realize that it's her parents and her brothers. She can hear her mom sobbing somewhere by her left ear. She's too dazed to do anything but stand there.

Her brothers let go after a few moments but her mother keeps hanging off of her arm. Santana starts to look around but then Quinn comes crashing into her side. "I knew you could do it," she says tearfully.

"I…"

Santana's voice gets stuck in her throat. The last thing she wants to do is start crying in front of all of these cheering people, but with her mom on one side and Quinn on the other, it's hard to hold it together. She looks over Quinn's shoulder and sees her friends all standing there: Tina, Rachel and Finn, Sam, Puck… Her heart starts to sink as she realizes the one person who's not there. And then Puck steps aside.

"Brittany," Santana says immediately, shaking out of her mother's grip. Quinn moves away as Santana looks deep into Brittany's eyes. Brittany just looks back, and for a moment, Santana thinks her deepest fear has come true. But then Brittany charges towards her.

Santana's crying the moment Brittany's arms are around her, sobbing so hard she can't even speak. Brittany doesn't seem to have any words either, she just holds Santana against her as cameras flash around her. The paparazzi seem to have figured out that this is the girl Santana called out on Caesar's show, but Brittany doesn't seem to care. They hug for a long time until their friends start to close in around them and Santana is able to stop her frantic crying. "I'm sorry," she says quietly as Finn and Rachel hug her from behind, "for so many things…"

"Don't apologize," Brittany replies quietly.

"But…" Santana can't deal with this, she doesn't know how she can ever make up for what she did in that arena, with that axe, with Sebastian… "Britt, I don't know how you can ever forgive-"

"The only thing I could never forgive you for," Brittany whispers against her ear, "is if you hadn't come back to me."

Relief spreads through Santana's entire body and she starts crying again, only this time it's because she finally feels good and she didn't think she would ever feel good again. Santana knows things will never be the same, but as all her friends hold her she thinks that maybe, just maybe, it'll still be okay.