*A little Theo to grace your page*

•×•

I still didn't follow the schedule that was designed specifically for me. I started sticking random things into the little machine. Brenda and Christina started to hand me random things and we made a game out of it. The best was Will's shoe, it had bright purple ink in his shoes and Al's gun. He was pissed when he went to training with bright purple stamped on the side.

The trainer took a closer look and then he rounded on me. He made everyone stop what they were doing and asked why Al's gun had my schedule and not my arm.

"Well I trust Al's gun more than myself. So I figured that was the safest place to stamp it." I answered with a shrug.

Everyone suppressed a laugh. I worked really hard to keep a straight face. But I failed and a snort came out.

He ragged a little. But I rolled my eyes.

"I'm here aren't I? Get over it! Sheesh you guys need to learn to relax."

"And disobedience gets you killed." He snarled getting in my face. This man was pushing my boundaries.

"No. Being stupid gets you killed."

The instructor went to grab my arm. That's when he made the mistake of his life. He was lucky I didn't kill him.

I twisted around, grabbed his wrist and continued to spin, so now I was behind him and I yanked his arm until I heard it pop. He screamed. I kicked his knees out and he crashed to the floor.

"I told you. Stupidity gets you killed." He cried out in pain again as I gave it a little bit more of a tug. "Touch me again and it's more than a dislocated shoulder." I snarled in his ear.

"Am I interrupting?"

I give the guy a shove forwards and look up. Theo is leaning on the door frame, his arms and ankles crossed, watching me with interest.

"Of course not. Just giving our instructor his first lesson of fuck around and find out." I shrugged. My face was impassive, but my stomach was doing some kind of twisting dance number.

Theo's eyes slid past me to the instructor holding his shoulder, seething on the ground. He had murder in his eyes as I also turned to look at him. I glanced at Theo and then the rest of the people in the training room. It had gone still, and silent. I watched as Theo pushed off the door frame and walked over. His steps were even and deliberate. One foot in front of the other, he walked right up to the instructor, still groaning, holding his shoulder. He looked down at him, his face straight and tight.

"Next time...don't lay hands on a woman. Especially the Special Ops Trainer, and one of the Ghost Recon." Theo snarled.

I folded my arms and tried not to smirk. It was nice having Theo now have my back. It had been a few days and he was still busy with the leadership and I was left to do whatever I was supposed to do on my schedule, so I hadn't seen him much, except the few times in the halls when we were passing each other. So we hadn't really had much chance to talk or hang out since my very brave show of feelings. But I did feel his eyes on me constantly. I had this weird ache in my stomach and chest, but also a nervousness that made me overthink everything, including what I was wearing.

"Well, looks like you trained the trainer." He said quietly, finally ripping his angry eyes away from the guy and looked at me.

"Would appear so." I smirked slightly.

"Class dismissed I guess." He yelled at the group. He spun on his heel and started for the door.

"Dang he's still scary and intimidating." Brenda shuttered. Christina nodded in agreement. I suppressed a smile.

"I'll catch up with you guys in a minute."

I bit my lip and followed. He was on the other side of the door, halfway down the hall already, but he slowed down when I stepped into the hall. He didn't look behind him. He knew I would follow. Or I hoped he would.

I fell into step beside him. He glanced at me from the corner of his eye.

"You alright?" He asked quietly. He could yell when he wanted to, but he was quiet and calculating. His calm steadiness was what threw people off.

"Always am." I said with a nod and a half hearted shoulder shrug. "You? You look very tired. Those big wig leaders keep you busy."

"Ya...look, I even have a communicuff." He said rolling his eyes.

"A what now?"

"Communicuff." He held his wrist up.

My eyes went wide, and I gasped. I threw a hand to my chest. "whoa! One of those! No way! So cool!" I gushed with as much sarcasm as I could muster.

"I know! Only the coolest people have one." He smirked at me. Giving my shoulder a little shove. I rolled my eyes.

"So how does it feel to be Mr important?"

He shrugged. "Exhausting."

We were quiet as we kept walking. I felt the back of his hand brush mine. Before I thought too much about it, I wrapped my pinky around his. There was a second where it was just that and then he had slid his hand into mine, intertwining all our fingers together. I hid my smile by glancing away. I felt a blush rise on my cheeks.

I was never one for intimate touching. I didn't really remember my parents touching much, but I was young when dad disappeared and mom wasn't very touchy. I knew she loved us, but didn't show it often. And then growing up inside WICKED there wasn't anything. So holding hands never crossed my mind. Theo's thumb brushed back and forth on the inside of my palm. I get it now.

I glanced at him quickly, feeling the blush rise again on my cheeks. Suddenly he yanked my arm and I found myself pressed up against the wall of a small skinny dark hall. I felt every point of contact as he leaned into me.

"Are you sure you're okay?" He whispered, his lips tickle my ear.

"Yes. I think a dislocated shoulder is lesson enough."

"Maybe not." He growled I could see a glint in his dark eye, even in the dark hall. "Has Peter tried anything more?"

"He hasn't had the chance."

"Good. If he does...and you see an opportunity…" He presses his hand to my cheek, it was warm and strong and callused, his hand smelt like metal. When did he hold a gun last? He tilts my head up so I have to look at him. His eyes glint again in the dim lighting. They look almost predatory. "Ruin him."

I laugh shakily. "You’re a little scary, Monster." I whisper it, but I'm not scared. Not of him, anyways. I feel my stomach twist and my heart skips a beat.

"Do me a favor," he says, "and don’t call me that."

"What should I call you then? Mr Important?" I try and tease. But my voice comes out too breathy to be teasing.

"My name." His voice is low and almost growled it. He dips his head and buries his face into my neck. I gasp at the sudden touch, but I can feel his lips now on my neck and I shiver. The sensations are new and thrilling. I love it.

"Theo." I whisper. My hands find the back of his head and I dig my fingers into his hair. He slowly kisses up my neck to my jaw and then my cheek and then finally he presses his lips to mine. Some kind of sigh escapes the confines of my chest and works it's way up to the back of my throat. I can feel him smirk as he kisses me again.

His hand skims my back, and then presses me closer. I try and pull him closer, pulling his head down. I feel a burning in my chest.

I have to pull away. I gasp loudly. I've held my breath too long. My gasping doesn't go away. I can't breathe. He slides his hand into pocket and pulls out my puffer. He prims it for me while I sink down the wall, leaning on it. I tip my head up to try to open my airway. Theo kneels down and hands me my puffer.

I hate having asthma. I feel broken. I'm looked at differently. I'm judged on that one condition, and not all my other abilities. They disregard everything I can do the moment they see a puffer. The medicine helps relax the tight muscles and helps open up my air way again. I close my eyes in frustration.

"Way to ruin the mood shuckface." I grumbled to myself.

Theo doesn't say anything, just watches me. He slides his hands into my hair again, holding the sides of my face. He places his forehead on mine and I just sit. Enjoying the moment, wanting to stay here, like this forever, with him close, his body close to mine, his air mixing with mine. I feel calm. I feel secure. The heavy weight of hopelessness isn't so strong when he's close.

I can hear footsteps and loud voices coming down the hall. I sigh. Our time has come to an end. But to my surprise, Theo doesn't move. Maybe he hasn't heard them. But that's not likely. He can hear just about everything. He probably heard them before I did, yet he doesn't move. I'm confused, yet thrilled. We have hidden...us for a while now.

He stays, as the footsteps get louder, I can see his heartbeat and his muscles tense and then the footsteps are passing and then disappearing. He pulls away and kisses .g forehead.

"Come on, let's go have some supper." He says quietly, his lips tickle against my skin. Where his lips touched it felt like electricity.

He stood up and pulled me up. He slipped his hand into mine and we walked down the maze of halls. We passed a few different people. Only one did a quick double take and then shook his head. I took a shaking breath and went to let go, but Theo tightened his grip on my hand. I glanced at him. He was walking straight and tall, his head up, eyes staring straight, like he was daring anyone to say something. His shoulders were tense, but his grip on my hand was gentle.

•×•

We were sitting at dinner when Theo's communicuff begins to beep. It looks like an oversized watch, but it receives print messages. Being granted a communicuff is a special privilege that's reserved for those important to the cause, a status Theo achieved by his leadership in rescuing the Maze B girls and who his father is- he supposedly has inside information.

"They need the two of us in Command," he says.

"Us?" I asked looking up.

He hummus and nods, still looking at his communicuff.

"Why me? They never cared."

He shrugged. But stood up. I glanced at Brenda and Christina and the rest of our squad. They all looked confused, Brenda shrugged. But I noticed her eyes flicked back and forth between us. Theo was standing so close to me his arm brushed mine. They narrowed even more when he took my tray from my hands and he carried them both. I bit my lip trying to hide the smile. When I turned and followed, he placed a possessive hand on my back and led me towards the door. He dumped out trays and he opened the door for me. I felt Brenda's burning stare. I knew I would have questions to answer later.

Theo slid his hand down and intertwined our fingers again. He pressed his palm to mine.

"It'll be okay."

"I'm not worried." I reply, giving his hand a little squeeze. He nods and leads me down the halls and up the stairs to Command.

I should have been.

•×•

"Absolutely not!" I say again.

"I told you it was a bad idea!" Vince cried. Slamming his hands down on the table. "She's a trouble maker, doesn't follow rules and-"

"Why not?" Another leader asked. "Why do you refuse so readily?"

"It's stupid. This is stupid. I'm not the right person. I don't want to be on camera. I've seen what happens to people who grew up on camera. No." I say folding my arms.

The symbol of the revolution. The renegade, the outlaw, the troublemaker. They want me to be the face of the Rebellion, the poster boy for the Right Arm. Jorge sat at the end of the table, leaning back, his feet popped up. He didn't look shocked. Theo sat beside him, stiff and unmoving. His dark eyes flicked over the different leaders. The one leader, who was the strictest, the leader of the underground rebellion, she hadn't said anything, just sat straight and watched. Her grey hair and eyes and everything looked like she had lost all her colour, being underground for so long she looked leeched of all colour.

It isn't enough, what I've done in the past, trying to take my sister's place, defying the Capitol, left WICKED, helped bust out their elite females, providing a rallying point. I must now become the actual leader, the face, the voice, the embodiment of the revolution. The person who the rebelling parts of the country can count on to blaze the path to victory.

I won't have to do it alone. They have a whole team of people to make me over, dress me, write my speeches, orchestrate my appearances - as if that doesn't sound horrifying familiar to what WICKED was doing - and all I have to do is play my part.

I shake my head. I've made up my mind. I don't want any part in this. I don't want to be the poster girl. I want out. I want to be doing something.

People keep talking at me, talking, talking, talking. Plutarch Heavensbee, the one who came up with the idea of having a person as the face of the rebellion. His calculating assistant, Fulvia Cardew. A mishmash of district leaders. Military officials. Vince is adamant it's not me. Jorge laughs at the idea. Commander Paylor sits and holds her judgment. And the underground leader, Coin sits with her long fingers laced together.

"Why me?" I finally ask.

"Ahhh! I'm glad you asked." Plutarch says. He stands up with a thin black remote in his hand and pushes a button. "Let's witness the beautiful face of a rebel!"

A screen appears and on the screen, I appear, at 10 pulling my sister away from the front of the stage. Standing up straight and proud yelling I'd take her spot. Everything was cut and edited together. A quick camera angle caught me and Minho grasping hands on stage. Solidarity against the tormenting government.

There's film of me on missions and inside WICKED, but it's all edited by someone, clearly making it look more rebellious. And then there's the footage from The Maze; figuring out the password, taking out Grievers, shoving girls towards the opening.

The footage is all doctored. Sure it looks pretty badass, but that's not me. That's an edited version of me. I scowled at the screen. It looks like I didn't have my squad. It looks like I didn't have help, they make me seem more than I am.

I get up and walk away. I slam the door open and walk away down the hall.

I heard a scuffle and some loud angry words. I don't look back, but I know in a minute Theo will join me. And he does.

"That went well." He says falling into step with me.

I scoff. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard and seen. Where's the rest of my squad? Where's Jorge and you?" I threw a hand out towards the room we came from. I narrowed my eyes at him.

"Did you know about this?"

"No." He says flatly. His eyes are steady and stare at me hard. His arms are folded right over his broad chest, making his muscles stand out more.

I glare back. "Fine." I snap looking away, and glaring at the wall. I feel him shift closer, his arms are encircling me and he pulls me closer. I press my face into his shoulder. I don't know why it makes me so angry, so frustrated, that they want me to be their face. But it does. It makes me feel sick and uncomfortable.

"Why me? No one answered that question." My words are muffled by his shoulder.

"They see a rebel, someone who, even inside WICKED, rebelled in small ways; the tattoos, piercings, the purple hair."

"What do you think?" I'm hesitant to know his answers. "Do you see the face of a revolution?"

"I do. But to me you're more than a pretty face. You're brave and strong. You face your fears head on. You're powerful in the small things you do. You're the first female trainer for special ops, for new initiates. You we're,
- are- part of Ghost Recon, in WICKED you were my second, the squad still looks to you as their commander, you mouthed off to Eric constantly, said no to leadership rolls, you see an injustice and you make it right, you don't let people walk all over you."

"I think you've been watching me, Monster." I smile shyly up at him.

He runs his fingers through my hair and tucks it behind my ear.

"It's Theo." His voice is quiet and rumbly. "And yes, from the moment you walked into me, in Boggs's office." He gives me a ghost of a smile.

"Why do I feel so...used by them, I haven't even done anything?" I ask.

"Because they want to do the same thing WICKED and Ava and...Janson-" he spits the name out like poison in his mouth, "- are doing. Using camera angles and fancy television tricks to persuade the population."

I agree, but I stay quiet. Thinking.

"Would you do it, if they asked?"

He's quiet. Tense. I can see him thinking. And finally he answers. "I don't know. Maybe. I'd have some strict demands first."

"I'm surprised they didn't ask you to be, considering who your father is." I say quietly.

"Don't." He suddenly snarled. He pulls away. I knew I crossed a line immediately. I didn't mean to. But there was no way to take it back. I stand stiff, feeling the heat of embarrassment rising in my cheeks.

"Don't ever say anything about it. Ever. They don't know. And they don't need to know. There's a reason I left." He's so coiled and tight with anger, like a wound up spring.

"Exactly my point. Think about it! You of all people, if they knew, you would build the rebellion so fast!" I try to explain. It's not working and I'm making it worse. I squeeze my hands into fists and look away. "Never mind." I mumbled.

It's awkward and tense between us for a moment and then I feel him deflate and hear a heavy slow exhale.

"Sorry." He says stiffly, like the word sorry isn't used to being said.

"You have nothing to be sorry about." I flick my eyes up to him quickly, almost worried about what I would see. His looks pale, and his eyes are closed, like he's trying to physically calm himself down. "I should have known better. You don't like talking about it. I...I get it. I'm sorry."

He exhales heavily through his nose and finally opens his eyes. Without a word he just pulls me back into his chest. A hand gently running over my hair. I press my face into his shoulder, eyes closed and just breath. Our arms around each other and his forehead resting on the top of my head.

We stay like this for a long time. I wish we could disappear and stay like this forever. But we can't.

•×•

A little Mockingjay for y'all.

Is it making scenes?