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chapter fourteen
WE ALL FALL DOWN

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tw: character death, violence
━━━━

Her heart lurches the same time Mateo bolts from his pedestal like a strike of lightning. Waves of Tributes follow, some of them staggering with their leap onto the ground, others skimming across the surface into their sprints. She waits for him to turn toward the buildings. To dash in the opposite direction like the girl beside him. Instead, he does exactly what her and Shep advised him not to.

A swarm of Tributes, Mateo included, rush toward the Cornucopia like a rabid stampede, some tripping over the bricks and rubble strewn about. Others flee toward the surrounding buildings.

Sage knows what Mateo's so fixated on. He blitzes past the male Tribute from Eight to get it, shouldering the boy to the ground as he continues sprinting.

Meanwhile, Marcellus and Kleo are the first to arrive to the Cornucopia, plucking spears and swords to their liking. The latter allows Carya from Seven to breeze by for an ax.

Neither of them seem to be interested in Mateo's speeding form closing in on the belt of blades. Either way, the boy still flinches when Kleo hurls a spear right into the heart of the tribute from Eight not far from his right.

Where the hell is One?

Sage's anxious gaze darts toward Taura's screen.

"Shit."

Instead of running to the outskirts like she was instructed, it seems Taura's hit a rebellious streak of her own. She snatches a pack off the ground, maybe thirty feet from the Cornucopia, wide gaze darting around like a doe caught in a spotlight. She calls someone's name. "TEO!"

When she spins on her heels, hair spraying into her face, she's met with someone else instead. She dumbly smiles as she prepares to greet Khora from Nine. She opens her arms to embrace.

Then the trident skewers Khora's heart with a sickening crunch. Blood flies from her lips in paint splatters as she chokes, knees stumbling then dropping to the dirt. Taura shrieks in horror.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!"

Mateo dashes toward her, leaping over the dead body of the boy from Twelve. The girl from Four starts forward to retrieve her trident from Khora's corpse. Something gleams in Mateo's hand, twirling through the air and landing right in their adversary's shoulder. Sage's eyes widen at his wicked aim. Not enough to kill, but enough to keep her from throwing that trident with such chilling precision again. His scraped knuckles wrap around Taura's bicep and yank her so hard from the gory scene the girl nearly tears in half. She stumbles after Mateo, struggling to keep up between her sobs.

"KHORA!"

Mateo's lips twist into a violent snarl as he glowers at the young girl, still dragging her disheveled form out of the Bloodbath. It's a miracle she hasn't dropped the precious pack she managed to grab. "SHE'S NOT YOUR FRIEND! WE GOTTA GO, WE GOTTA GO!"

Sage sees it coming half a second before Mateo does. His eyes widen at the shadow looming fifteen feet to their right.

A squeak escapes Taura's lips when he shoves her violently to the ground. He angles his body as the twirling ax from Palmer of Seven whirs past them and lodges into the dirt a foot behind Taura. The wisps of her brown hair tremble. With a grunt, Mateo's arm jerks, and there's a crunch of metal into marrow. The boy's skull jolts, momentum pulling his body into an unnatural C into the dirt.

Sage had a feeling Mateo was good with knives, and his score of a 9 certainly supported that. But now she really understands.

His wide, dark eyes dart around them anxiously and quickly. Bodies litter the ground, the crimson blood running with the red dirt. The girl from Six wars with the girl from Seven. Meanwhile, at the Cornucopia, there appears to be some discourse within the typical alliance, One fuming at Two. Mateo locks gazes with a furious Merlot, a scarlet slice already over his adversary's right brow, and that's enough for him to start moving again.

Yanking Taura's stunned frame off the ground, he pulls them back toward the ruined skyscrapers. "C'mon!"

The two sprint out of the Bloodbath, Mateo still gripping Taura's bicep. His feet pound so fast hers don't even touch the ground as he drags her behind him. Thankfully, she still clings to the pack.

Sage's heart races with her Tributes as they dive into one of the streets, the rubble growing taller and stronger the deeper they travel. There's a shadow of the girl from Five almost crossing their path as their perpendicular alleys run together. She gasps, spinning around on her heels in the opposite direction. Mateo ignores her as he leads Taura further down the street, taking odd and last-minute turns that almost send them sprawling.

They don't stop for a whole four minutes. Neither does the Bloodba—

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

Mateo jolts at the sound of the cannons, skidding to an urgent halt before yanking Taura into a huddle behind one of the more structured buildings. She watches him with wide eyes as he peers carefully out into the alley.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

"Six?" Taura mouths when they lock gazes momentarily. Mateo stills to listen.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

Stunning silence. The echoes of the final cannon crackle against Sage's ears, mingling with her Tributes' heavy breaths. Her nervous gaze skims the other televisions in the room for any similar settings. No shadows loom in any of Ten's angles.

"Almost half..." Taura breathes, blinking her wet, knotted lashes. She shoves the heel of her palm against the teary flesh beneath her eyes.

Mateo's jaw sets as he nods grimly.

The after shock sends tremors across the Arena and the Viewing Room, eventually fading into an eerie silence. Sage peers around at the Mentors who've already lost both their Tributes. Haymitch Abernathy of Twelve sighs, stretching himself along the couch. He flicks the cap off his flask and guzzles the liquor as if it were water. Both sets of televisions for Eight fade to black, Woof and Cecelia hanging their heads in defeat. Sage feels her heart ache in sympathy but also sigh in relief that she isn't in their position.

Yet.

"Looks like your kid can throw a knife, huh?" a bitter voice snaps.

Shep's eyes remain glued to their Tributes' screens, allowing Sage to turn. Johanna Mason of District Seven glowers at them from her section with arms folded across her chest. Sage remembers the girl's glare burning into her when Snow plucked the Victor's crown from her head and placed it upon her own after she won. She thought she was just bitter to lose her title. Sage knows better than that now.

Behind her on District Seven's other half of lit screens, Sage makes out the shape of the Cornucopia. Lingering not too far from Carya are the Careers of Two and Four, the girl who killed Khora with her trident doctoring up her wounds from Mateo's blade. Seven's alliance with the Careers is intriguing, but not particularly surprising, rumors of their people twirling axes before they could walk floating between Districts. It makes sense Marcellus and Kleo might want them on their team.

One is nowhere in sight.

Alarm blares in her gut, and all she can do is offer the other Victor a curt nod, a sourness tingling along her tongue. She quickly returns her uneasy and anxious gaze to Mateo and Taura's screens. "I'm sorry for your Tribute."

Johanna scoffs and rolls her eyes. "Do you know how stupid you sound?"

Much to her frustration, Johanna's words lash at the aching parts of her like a whip. Sage feels the venom stinging her tongue, the viper ready to bite, but she resists, anchoring herself into her heels.

The feeling of worry cements her anxious stare onto Mateo and Taura's carefully moving figures as they navigate the abandoned streets and alleys. Some of the buildings stand sturdier than the rest, broken window panes glimmering and sets of stairs offering them sanction on higher ground by a few stories. Others resemble skeletons and ashes, one or two walls still standing or nothing at all.

"Did they check the pack?" Sage asks. She notes the sweat on their brows, the bright orange sun burning against the earthy tones of the sand and rubble. Along with the pack, Taura has a knife of her own now, following Mateo like a faithful shadow.

Shep nods. "A blanket, rope, pair of goggles, a pack of dried beef and an empty canteen."

Typical— except for one thing. Her brows pinch together. "Goggles?"

"Mhm. They wouldn't put it in the pack if it couldn't be useful."

Sage doesn't even want to think about what they could need the goggles for. The idea of them flooding the Arena like they did in the Seventieth Games makes her nauseous, it being a fifty-fifty shot her Tributes know how to swim. She should've asked them if they knew how to swim. "They need to find water soon."

"Mateo mentioned raiding one of the buildings, but I think he's being too optimistic. Their best shots are the pipes if they can break them open, or maybe a bird bath."

Sage shakes her head. "Either way, when they find water, they're going to need to purify it." She peers up at her former Mentor. "I'm going to work on a Sponsor to send some iodine down."

Just as she's about to stride toward the Viewing Room door, she's startled by Shep's grip on her bicep. His haunting eyes widen at the screen. "Wait."

That tone sends her heart catapulting into her throat. Sage halts completely, bones chilled and rigid as she follows his stare on Ten's screens. Mateo stalks through the Arena carefully, a knife in his grip and eyes dissecting their surroundings. Taura sniffles behind him, either still mourning her friend or simply shell shocked from the morning's bloody events. However, she slowly increases her own awareness as well.

Neither of them see the shadow lurking behind them.

Mateo hears it though.

Another swivel of his heels, and another firm shove of Taura into the ground. She yelps and ducks her head. Wild-eyed, he jerks his arm violently, the dagger twirling through the air and right toward their shadow. The shadow dodges with a grunt of surprise, and the blade bounces off the brick wall behind him like a dart that's missed its mark. Silver sparks in the sunlight as he holds his palms up innocently and futilely.

"Dude, it's me!"

Relief washes across Mateo's features at the sight of Trellis from Eleven, and Taura shakily stands from her crouched position in the dirt, shooting a glare in her District Partner's direction. Begrudgingly, she rubs at her sore hip. "Do you always have to shove me?"

"When you're in the way? Yes." His chest heaves, warm cheeks burning red, an ugly snarl yanking at his lips. The relief is replaced with annoyance as he glowers at Trellis. "What the fuck are you sneaking up on us for? I could've killed you."

Trellis shrugs nonchalantly, walking over to retrieve the thrown blade. "You wouldn't. We're allies." Gravel crunches beneath his feet as he closes the distance between the Tributes of Ten. Offering Mateo the handle, he hands the glaring boy his knife. In his own clutches, Trellis has seemingly managed two machetes. Not without a price it seems, spreckles of blood peppering his shirt. "And I wasn't trying to sneak up on you. I didn't exactly think shouting your name to get your attention in the Arena was a good idea."

"Where's Rine?" Taura speaks up. She peers past the towering boy's shoulder and toward the empty alleys. All that's left is a tumbleweed rolling in the wind.

He sighs, lips forming a tight line and eyes casting down to his feet. "Dead. One got her." He scratches at his dirtied cheek, dried blood buried beneath his fingernail. "Looks like the Careers aren't playing nice together on the playground. One is pissed at Two. I think they were booted out of their alliance."

Taura frowns. "Why?"

"Dunno. They're hard to figure out this year." He shrugs. When he gestures toward them with his machete mindlessly, they both flinch. "Just like when they invited you guys to train with them."

Mateo scowls at the mention of the Careers. He anxiously glances behind them again, then inhales a sharp breath through his nose. "We should keep moving then. If One's gone Rogue, they could be anywhere."

With that, the boy turns on his heels, his strides picking up their pace. He doesn't wait for the other two to join them, but eventually, they soundlessly do. The trio embarks on their trek deeper into the Arena in search of water primarily, food and shelter a much needed bonus as well. Much to Sage's relief, Trellis is kind enough to offer Taura his spare machete. She bids a mute Chaff beside her a grateful nod.

"I'm going to work on the iodine." Sage turns to Shep, attempting to stride toward the Viewing Room door again. "Maybe a Sponsor will be generous enough to send them water."

Her boots click beneath the tile, echoing against the walls. Some Mentors remain glued to their screens, their Tributes yet to be carried out of the Arena in a wooden box, while others wallow in their defeat. Ptolemus remains seated along one of the stools in front of Marcellus's screens, knee bobbing up and down as he toys with his rings. She looks away before they can make eye contact.

It's when she's opening the door that she catches it. Augustus's arrogant, gleaming stare bores into her like the glint of a sword, wielded and ready to poke at all the wounded parts of her. He trails her figure closely and wolfishly. Behind his broad shoulder, she can see his Tributes navigating the Arena, glittering but menacing weapons in tow. She holds his stare evenly as she allows the door to shut behind her.

Augustus Braun smirks.

━━━━

The next two days feel like the longest days of Sage's life, and even longer for her two Tributes. Like a ping pong ball, she bounces back and forth between the Viewing Room and the Sponsors gathered in the Square before the Tribute Center. While her Tributes navigate the Arena to the best of their abilities, she navigates the hoard of Capitol socialites, laughing at their backhanded jokes and complimenting them on their conditional generosity.

"I hear you people from Ten are so passionate! I hope to see that passion from your Tributes in the Games!"

Keep giggling, and now Mateo and Taura have iodine to purify their water so they don't die of dehydration or sickness.

"I knew his rage would entertain us! How angry do you think he can get?"

Just smile and nod, and here comes the parachute with a blanket so they might not freeze once the sun has set.

"I hope it comes down to Ten and Two. Have you and Ptolemus increased the stakes? Loser owes the winner a kiss?"

Don't you dare pout, and now your Tributes have bread to hold them a little while longer.

Sage won't admit it, but she's exhausted. Her sore feet are given a much needed rest as she perches herself on one of the stools in front of Ten's televisions, heels of her palms pressed into her cheeks to keep her from hanging her head. Her spine aches and her eyes burn as she meticulously watches the screen.

The sun is starting to set in the Arena, ambers and golds streaking the sky as a faint indigo creeps in from the corner. Mateo, Taura, and Trellis cautiously climb one of the sturdier buildings of the ruins, four stable stories growing from the earth, the fifth broken open like a stretched out hand. This will be their third evening in the Arena. Since the Bloodbath, three more have died, almost reaching the Final Eight in which interviews at home will be conducted for the remaining Tributes.

The boy from Six and the girl from Three were hunted down by Marcellus's band of Careers. Meanwhile, the rogues of One still navigate the Arena on their lonesome, only sparring with giant ratlike mutts that crawled out from the sewers.

It was on the second night that the boy from Nine died, Sage's Tributes making camp on the roof of a skyscraper different from this one. There was the rumbling and quivering, then a dying creaking sound. The dust and debris of the collapsed building only two away from theirs infiltrated her Tributes' lungs, sending them into hacking fits as the boy from Nine's cannon rang like the final church bell of a funeral. None of them slept well that night as they waited to fill the tremors of their own building beneath them.

As for food, after nibbling sparingly on their one pack of dried beef for the three of them, Trellis managed to kill an animal that resembled a squirrel with his machete for them to roast over a small fire. The iodine Sage sent down has been put to good use, Taura discovering an exposed pipe. After Trellis's relentless hacking at the rusted iron, they hit the jackpot, water spewing in jets into the street.

Sage watches her Tributes set up camp like they always have. The same watch cycle continues. Trellis first, then Mateo, and finally Taura. The weight of her eyelids grows heavier and heavier, propped cheek slipping off her knuckles. When a familiar hand squeezes her shoulder, she jumps with a start, nearly toppling out of her stool. Her lashes knot together as she blinks over and over, trying to to shake away the sands of slumber.

"You need some rest," Shep starts, observing her warily. "When's the last time you slept?"

The building yawn pulls at her breath, and she clamps her jaw to stifle it. She rubs the heel of her palm into her eyes, kaleidoscope colors peppering her vision before settling back to the artificial hue of the Viewing Room. A shake of her head. "I uh... I took a little cat nap during my lunch. So... not that long ago."

"Hm. You haven't taken lunch since yesterday."

Oh.

Her stomach howls in agony, and her cheeks flush with betrayal. The empty wrapper of some crackers from the vending machine linger near her table. She ate those today, right? Maybe for breakfast...

"Alondra and I usually take shifts. One of us handles business during the day, the other at night." Shep shrugs, stuffing his hands into his pockets. He's changed attire since the Bloodbath. Sage peers down at her clothes to ensure she has too. The pants look different. Maybe that was yesterday as well...? "I'll take tonight's shift. Be back around nine tomorrow morning for us to switch."

Suddenly, she's startlingly awake, bloodshot eyes widening in bewilderment. "Nine?" She shakes her head with protest. "I can't be gone that long, what if they need me to go to the Sponsors again and you to be watching?
I can't—"

"I've been doing this for twenty years, remember?" Shep gives her a pointed look, perhaps the most present and aware look he's given her, one that makes her sputtering form slump. Before she can come up with another argument, he's staring at Two's section. "Ptolemus? Can you come here for a second?"

Sage frowns. While the Victor from Two also appears surprised by Shep's beckoning, he masks it better, pulling himself away from his own screens. He continues to play dumb, as if he hasn't been listening this entire time. With raised brows, he slowly maneuvers past the array of couches to approach them. "Hm?"

"Can you take Sage to Ten's apartment? She needs to eat something and rest."

"But—"

He interjects quickly, sharpened gaze only fixated on her. "Or else she's no good to our Tributes when she's sleep-deprived and starved."

Ptolemus watches Sage concede at that. Impressed by the sudden life to the shell of a man, he stows away his amusement as he studies the exhausted girl. Purple crescents have stained the skin beneath her eyes, and her raven hair is disheveled upon her head. Her nails are chewed done to red and swollen nubs. He would've tried to convince her of rest had she not been so impossible to pin down for more than ten seconds for a conversation. The tired gears of her brain continue to spin manically.

"C'mon," he murmurs gently, extending his large palm to her. He can feel Enobaria burrowing daggers into the back of his skull, but he doesn't care. "Shep can watch over them for now."

Sage'a shoulders sink in defeat, tired stare lingering along Ten's screens for another glance. Despite the fact they are smiling and in good spirits all things considered, gnawing on leftover squirrel legs and whispering memories of home, she feels the dread of letting them out of her sight anchoring her down. Embers flicker in her irises one more time before they die as she studies Shep.

"You have to promise me you'll wake me if anything happens. Anything."

He nods. "I promise."

She stares a moment longer to soak in his vow. Jaw setting, she carefully takes Ptolemus's hand, and he gently helps her down from the stool. He leads her out of the Viewing Room, her feet dragging the entire way down the corridor, toward the elevator, even once they stride into Ten's quarters. Philo luckily is nowhere to be found.

It's when she's in the apartment that she really notices how shitty she feels. Her eyes peek over at the empty dining table, staring longingly at Taura and Mateo's chairs. The remote for the television looms on the coffee table. Shep said he would call, but what if something happens and he can't? Just as she starts toward it, a tall and broad figure shifts into her path.

"Why don't you take a shower? The hot water might feel good," Ptolemus suggests.

One of her dark brows quirks upward with mild amusement. "Is that your nice way of saying that I smell?"

"No, but it's better than you turning on the TV." He glances over his shoulder at the remote and then back to her. "Which I know you're dying to do. But then you'd never rest and that would defeat the purpose of a break, so..."

Defeated by his painfully correct logic, she sighs a soft sigh, eventually offering a quiet nod. "Give me a few minutes..."

"Take as long as you need."

With that, Sage stalks down the hall and toward her bedroom with an adjoining bathroom. Turning the faucet, steaming water hisses from above. She strips from her smelly clothes, shrugging them into a pile into the floor before stepping inside. The water at first feels scalding, and she almost jumps out of its path. Eventually, she becomes accustomed to it, closing her eyes and tilting her head as she feels it trickle down her grimy skin. The warmth is the greatest comfort she's known in days.

Meanwhile, Ptolemus orders up a set of new clothes for himself to change into as well as some toiletries for the night. Then he gets to work, scouring the pantries and refrigerator for ingredients. One of the Avoxes tucked into a corner watches him warily. Her eyes say, "We can order something for you. We should order something for you." He just offers her a warm, kind smile and nod.

Sage loses track of time in the shower. The warmth, like a hug, makes her never want to leave, but after forty minutes, she finally steps out. Her parents would be horrified to know how much hot water she's wasted. Another luxury of The Capitol. She's just dressing in a fresh loungewear set when she smells a mouth-watering aroma. Her brows pinch into a curious frown. She tugs at the hem of her shirt to straighten it across her body.

Following the scent out of her room and into the hall, her footsteps pad softly toward the kitchen. Ptolemus barely notices her entrance as he carefully and steadily pulls a tray of simmering ribs out of the oven. Sage blinks at him dumbly and stiffly.

"You cooked?"

"I reheated and reseasoned some ribs. I was going to try lobster risotto again but..." Ptolemus reaches above him for plates. Sage quickly attempts to help as she gathers glasses, studying him between glances. "All you guys had was... meat. But I promise, one of these days, you're going to get your lobster risotto."

"You should've told me, I would've helped you." Sage grabs some napkins, forks, and knives. A nagging thought reminds her that with her help the ribs would've smelled burnt instead of delicious.

Ptolemus just shrugs. "Yeah well, you needed a shower so..." A corner of his lips tug upward teasingly, blue eyes glistening. "You sorta smelled."

The raven-haired girl grins at his cheeky joke, pointing a fork accusingly in his direction as she sets the table. "I knew it! So you were just sparing my feelings."

He raises one of his palms innocently in the air while balancing the platter of ribs on the other. "Hey, watch where you're pointing that thing."

Rolling her eyes, she chuckles softly, the light laughter freeing up the dense fog in her heart. It doesn't break it completely, but it allows her just a refreshing breath. Ptolemus places the platter down, quickly returning with a pair of tongs and plates. Sage fills the glasses with water silently. The two, both tired and far over-stimulated, munch on their ribs in a peaceful and comforting silence. Sage insists on doing the dishes when the Avoxes try to take their plates to keep her mind busy. Ptolemus dries them.

It's nine o'clock when they climb into bed, but for Sage it feels like the end of time. Shame builds in her chest at the way her body sinks into the soft mattress and the silky pillows, seemlessly curing every ache she's ever felt. Meanwhile, Taura and Mateo sleep on hard concrete and rubble. Ptolemus lays across from her, watching her very carefully. She can feel him doing it, ready to morph into a shield like he always does. She does her best to ignore it as her stare bores into the dark, blank television longingly.

"Who's left besides Mateo, Taura and Trellis? The girl from Five—"

"Stop, stop," Ptolemus dismisses softly, shaking his head. He tucks a damp strand of hair out of her eyes. "You're going to drive yourself crazy if you keep obsessing over the Games. Shep said he would call if there were any problems. No calls so far, no problems."

"But what if he can't call? What if they're in trouble, and he's too tangled up trying to help them on his own, and—"

"You're spiraling. Breathe."

"I don't know how I can." She shakes her head and frowns. "I'm warm and safe and they're cold and scared. The least I can do is be there for them, looking out for them, not sleeping while they're dying."

Ptolemus studies her softly in the navy shadows of the evening. He inhales a careful breath. "I know it's impossible. But you need to try to focus on something else." Her lips part to object. "I know. But it's just for a little while, enough so you can sleep and return well-rested to help Mateo and Taura in the morning."

Their names soften her rigid frame in his gentle grip. Guilt gnaws at her chest when she remembers the handful of times she almost nodded off while watching the Games in the Viewing Room. He's right, Shep is right, and she knows it.

Ducking her head in defeat, she stares at the cream-colored sheets beneath them. "Like what?"

Ptolemus pauses. He didn't get that far yet. Then the idea pops into his brain like a light bulb, and he straightens, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into her waist. "Where would you rather be right now? If the Games weren't happening?"

Her features shift in immediate recognition, eyes wandering to a different horizon than the one she's trapped in. The question is surprisingly easy to answer. "On top of Sunshine. Racing across the pastures with my brothers." Her lips quirk in fondness at the idea before she peers back at Ptolemus. "You?"

He has a couple of ideas. One, maybe with his sister in their old treehouse if she were still alive. Two, sneaking away from The Academy to skip rocks with his best friend Gunnar. The third place, he's already here, chest to chest with Sage as she rests in his arms. He settles on the fourth, the memory of wet clay gliding against his fingers and bringing peace to his war-torn body.

"In my studio... creating something worth admiring for all the right reasons."

A soft grin. "That sounds lovely."

"So does yours," he nods. He leans forward, pressing a gentle and sweet kiss along her forehead. She closes her eyes and sinks into him. "So let's go there."

She nods subtly in agreement. Quicker than they anticipated, they fall asleep, drifting off to their own separate and personal oasises. Clinging to each other, they leave the doors open to return to this world, tethered to each other for the moment they're ready to come back.

━━━━

Sage manages about five solid hours of sleep before her pastures crumple, the clouds darken, and her family evaporates into thin air. Skyscrapers burst from the soil like trees, and crimson swallows the world whole. There's the shrill cry of a hawk intertwining with the wind. She dreams of hawks shot down from the sky and pictures of her Tributes' faces taking their place.

BOOM!

She lurches out of Ptolemus's arms with a start, and he stirs at the sudden movement too. Her wide, frantic gaze centers on the television, expecting an image of Taura or Mateo being carried up from the ground and into the hovercraft. She's only met with more darkness.

"Hey, hey," Ptolemus tries, groggily straightening. He mindlessly tucks the disheveled hair out of her face. "It's okay, it was just a nightm—"

"Did Shep call?"

"What?" He shakes his head in attempts to knock away the slumber. "No, he didn't call. It's okay."

Sage clenches the sheets with white knuckles. Her chest heaves as she tries to shove her anxious breath back into her lungs. The feeling, the terrible sinking feeling, it just won't go away.

"Something's wrong." Hastily, the girl shuffles out of bed, tearing the tangled sheets away from her body.

"You don't know that," Ptolemus soothes. He mimics her, climbing out of bed as she starts toward the door. "Let's just call. Check and see. I'm sure they're—"

"My mother always says never to doubt a woman's intuition." Sage charges down the hall with a purpose, and there's no stopping her. "I'm going."

Ptolemus knows he won't win. Instead, he concedes, chasing after her. He's surprised by how fast she is, finally catching up to her as she's halfway out the apartment door. They hurry down the hall and toward the elevator. Sage pushes the button over and over. The hawk's splintering cry continues to haunt her, and a sourness burns the inside of her mouth.

"I'm sure they're fine," he tries once more. His comforts are no use. Not now.

The elevator doors part, and Sage bursts into the Viewing Room. The first thing she sees is a surprisingly blank-expressioned Augustus. He doesn't even glance in her direction as he watches his Tributes' screens boredly. Stalking past him, she rushes toward Ten's screens. Shep sits on a stool and sips his water lightly. At the sound of her footsteps, he frowns, peering over at her in surprise.

"I thought I told you to get some rest."

"I did," she quips. "I feel much better, thank you."

Her dark eyes bore into the dark screens of her Tributes. The cameras and drones enhance the lighting so that one can see their shapes and figures. The sun is starting to rise for them in the east. She spies Taura's frame leaning against her pack, gripping her machete tiredly while the two boys attempt to sleep. She adjusts the blanket over Mateo's frame.

"So why are you here?" Shep asks, shaking his head.

Ptolemus looms behind her, Enobaria still watching Marcellus and Kleo. He gives her some space, only a few feet away.

"I got a feeling."

Even some relief finds Ptolemus at the sight of Sage's Tributes unharmed. He scratches at his scraggly head of hair, barely stifling a yawn. He squints with bleary eyes.

"Look, they're okay. Everything's ok—"

Sage yelps the same time that Taura does at the sight of One creeping out of the darkness like lethal shadows. Ptolemus even jumps, striding toward her with eyes glued to the screens. Shep stands abruptly from his stool beside Sage.

Meanwhile, in the Arena, both boys snap their half-closed eyes open with a start, Trellis lunging for his machete and Mateo gripping one of his knives to the point it might crumple to dust. Their wide and shaken gazes break left and right in a panic around the breaking dawn, standing abruplty and gravel scratching beneath their boots.

Taura grips her own machete weakly, pointing it with a trembling hand toward the dark. "Watch out!"

Both boys follow her gesture, but by the time they do, it's too late. Porcelin pounces at Trellis like a tiger awaiting her strike, sword gleaming flame in the scorching sunrise. A skull knocks into Mateo's ribs, and he's sent sprawling across the roof, gaping for air. His wide eyes catch sight of a sneering Merlot with his cutlass raised high in the dawn for the blow.

Mateo rolls out of its path, the metal screeching agains the concrete in a fashion that makes your teeth grind together. Behind him, Trellis wars with a vicious and agile Porcelin, his size and strength barely saving himself from her blows as she almost twirls around him like a ballerina.

"Imagining my face, huh?" Merlot spits, raising his blade in the air again. Mateo's still wheezing from the blow to his ribs. "Well now's your chance. Let's see what you got, Ten."

The cutlass whistles through the air only to abruptly halt, Mateo's boot slamming into the side of Merlot's knee. He stumbles off balance as the sword swipes lazily and inaccurately through the air. Mateo lunges upward, barreling his body into the Tribute from One. They both grunt as they're knocked into the ground, Merlot's skull slamming against the concrete and his sword sprawling away from him.

Taura scampers over to grab the weapon before he can even think to reach for it, hurling it over the edge of the roof. She looks between Mateo and Trellis, unsure of who to help, unsure of what to do, unsure of if she can even use the machete in her trembling grasp.

With a snarl, Mateo raises his blade, aiming right for the heart as Merlot wriggles beneath him. The boy from One snatches his free hand out from under his weight, and with a jerk against his wrist, he sends Mateo's blade soaring through the air. Just when he's reaching for another on his hilt, a fist collides into his jaw with a sickening crack, the momentum of the blow lifting his weight from Merlot. He takes advantage of it, shifting so that he's on top. Mateo groans and blinks the stars away, barely bringing his hands up in time to soften another blow from Merlot's fist.

"C'mon, you got a nine?" Merlot chuckles. "Where's all that rage, little fe—"

He can't get to his blades thanks to One's knees, but he still has his fists, rocketing a blow right into Merlot's windpipe, his taunts dying with a wheezy breath. His eyes widen as he gapes, holding his throat.

Mateo heaves his stiff form off his frame with a flop. "Do you ever shut the fuck up?!"

The boy from Ten spits the blood and saliva out from his mouth, teeth stained crimson from the punch to his jaw. He reaches for another blade from his hilt as he closes in on Merlot's heaving form. With a vicious grunt, he lunges the knife toward the boy. But Sage can see it from a mile away— he's gotten too close, the consequences making themselves painfully known when Merlot manages to sweep his leg across her Tribute's ankle. More concrete slamming into his ribs as the building trembles.

Merlot, still wheezing, crawls forward, a spare knife in his grip. Both boys straighten for each other's strikes. It looks like Mateo might earn another scar when a shadow swipes at Merlot.

"TAURA, NO!"

Sage's fingers tremble in terror. "Oh my God."

The two tumble, both of them sprawling across the roof. Taura blindly slashes her machete as they roll dangerously toward the edge. There's a howl from Merlot, blood splattering, but the victory is short lived, a crack of bone beneath a fist followed by Taura's yelp of pain. Mateo rushes forward with a snarl. His blade is hurtling down to the back of Merlot's lungs when the Tribute from One flings something over the side of the building in the tussle.

Not something.

Taura.

A fist made of iron clenches Sage's heart to the point she physically wheezes, her lungs making a dying, flailing sound.

Taura shrieks as her small frame is sent flying over the edge, a hand desperately reaching toward the sky for something, anything, to keep her from plummeting to her death. Merlot is shoved off to the side by a figure barreling toward him.

A grunt and a squeak when her hand latches onto Mateo's scarred one, his ribs heaving onto the ledge. Her wide brown eyes bore into Mateo's own terrified ones as she dangles over the side of the building. The burning red sun illuminates the rubble and shards of glass that wait for her four stories below. Mateo grinds his teeth together, a vein in his forehead popping as he reaches down to her with his spare hand.

"You're good, you're good, I've got ya."

Taura uneasily glances below her, shivering as her voice rises in shaky pitch. "Teo—"

THUMP!

Relief is short lived, and Sage feels her blood run cold, the ice sinking it all to her feet. Even Ptolemus feels nauseous, glacial glare flickering back toward an amused Augustus. Mateo groans in pain as Merlot's knee digs into his spine, and Taura shrieks, her body swaying in the wind from the impact. Their hands are getting sweatier and sweatier.

"Well this is fun," Merlot taunts, looming over top of Mateo. His fist pounds right into the boy's forearm, driving it uncomfortably into the concrete ledge and loosening one of his hands that holds onto Taura. "Don't let go! Oh nooo!"

Mateo reers his head back, skull knocking into his nose with a crunch. "FUCK YOU!"

The time that it takes for Merlot to recover allows him enough seconds to readjust his grip onto Taura. She's crying now, futilely trying to reach her spare hand toward the ledge. The rubble just pulls right off the building, scattering down to the ground below.

"You've gotta grab onto something," Mateo tries. He nods directionlessly with his head. "Reach over there."

Taura tries, but it's futile, her voice screeching into a petrified wail. "I CAN'T! I CAN'T HOLD ON!"

"I can't hold on!" a voice mocks shrilly. Sage clenches her jaw at the Career's tone. "Let me help you!"

Merlot's fingers wrap around Mateo's. Taura's trembling with sobs now as she squeaks at their grips loosening. Mateo tries to reel his skull backward again, but it's no use, Merlot already anticipating it. He pries Mateo's fingers off one by one until he's only holding onto her with his right hand. Her body drops half a foot in the air, and she screams.

"TRELLIS!" Mateo bellows.

"He's busy. Porcelin's got him all... tangled up."

Another grunt, and Mateo tries throwing his elbow into Merlot's jaw. The boy jerks, but he doesn't make contact with the bone, only his shoulder. It still isn't enough. Mateo's eyes widen as he digs his fingernails into Taura's hand. Anything to keep holding on. She's whimpering and pleading for mercy as Merlot pries two fingers away of Mateo's remaining hand. She's slipping more and more.

"Don't worry, don't worry. I can be a reasonable guy." Merlot digs his knee dipper into Mateo's spine, forcing a groan, and he leans down to whisper into his ear. "I promise that I'll kill you too. Right after her cannon goes off, so will yours."

"Teo," Taura whimpers, bottom lip quivering. She strains to reach for the ledge again.

"Hold on!" Mateo begs.

All that's left is his thumb and two fingers wrapped around her sweaty, slippery wrist. The strings of Sage's heart are violently plucked the same time Mateo's eyes widen, the laws of gravity carrying out their unbending rules.

Merlot smirks a sickening smirk as he waves. "Bye bye!"

Her wrist slips from his grasp, and he jerks forward to latch onto her again. He only grabs air as Taura's shriek whistles sharply through the air. Her small body plummets and crashes with a sickening CRACK against the rubble.

The scream, born in Sage's being stops at the edge of her lips and erupts from Mateo's jaws instead.

Gutteral and primal, his elbow is sent soaring backward, connecting with Merlot's laughing features with a satisfying CRACK! The blow knocks his cackling frame off balance as Mateo spins around, and he springs at him with a lethal and almost animalistic rage. She watches stiffly, water stinging her eyes and muscles hardened like steel.

His palms shove into Merlot's collarbone, and his skull thumps hard against the concrete. He isn't laughing anymore as Mateo's blade raises into the air. He strikes as quickly and shockingly as lightning. There's a squish of flesh and blood intertwined with the crack of bone, his dagger plummeting right in the direction of the boy's heart. It's enough to kill.

That doesn't matter. Mateo grunts again, ripping his blade out of his body and stabbing him again. Crunch. Another grunt, another stab. Merlot's blood splatters, and his eyes glaze over. Crimson gurgles in his throat as his cannon booms. It isn't enough for Mateo as he grunts and screams, stabbing him in the chest over and over and over.

Sage counts twenty one times before he seems to be growing tired. Another cannon blows, and a pair of pounding feet approach him swiftly. Pale and cold, Sage anxiously waits for Porcelin's shadow to dart into the screen.

Trellis tries to yank at Mateo's arm. "Easy man, he's dead! He's dead already!"

With a vicious snarl, her Tribute jerks away, bloodied teeth ground together and eyes wild as he glares at his ally. She watches the veil of rage slowly lift as reality trickles in. His chest heaves, glancing to Trellis's bruised but alive frame, then to his bloody machete, and all the way across the roof where Porcelin's lifeless body lays in a pool of crimson.

Cannons. They heard only two cannons.

Sage shakes her head, and her bottom lip quivers. Those tears keep stinging and blurring her vision, and she bites down on the inside of her cheek, hard. Without realizing, her shoulder leans into Shep's as their eyes remain glued to the screen. Even some of the other Mentors watch in painful silence. Ptolemus thinks about reaching for her.

"Taura!"

Mateo's feet scrape against the gravel of the roof as he jumps up from Merlot's corpse with realization. He races down the stairs, Trellis blindly following, thankfully remembering to grab the pack. Mateo almost trips at the final flight of stairs, and he leaps from them five steps above the bottom. The building trembles at the impact. He bursts through a shredded and faded fabric that resembles a former curtain. The uneven hunks of cement and rubble almost send him sprawling again as he rushes toward Taura's lying frame.

The cameras focus in on her face. Sage whimpers at the sight of the warm-eyed, innocent girl she met on that stage with a cloudy look in her eyes, blood staining her lips.  She lays there limply, her chest struggling to rise and fall, body broken in so many places.

Mateo doesn't know what to do at first. What can he do? Stunned and wide-eyed, he drops to his knees, crawling toward her carefully, unsure of where to look. He grimaces at the nature of her wounds. Trellis looms behind, and he has to turn away.

Taura's eyes light up when Mateo's familiar features shift into her vision. A corner of her lips tug upward. "Hi, Teo." Her brave smile falls when she chokes on her blood, and the fear creeps back into her gaze. "D—does it look bad?"

Mateo's bottom lip is trembling, and he bites down on it to stop. His eyes glaze over with tears as he inspects the girl's wounds again, tucking a strand of brown hair out of her face. "No, no, it's not that bad. It's not that—" He chokes on his sob in a croaky breath. "It's not that bad at all."

"I tried— I tried to hold on."

"I know you did," Mateo nods. Sage watches as he crumbles, his harsh, scornful features finally resembling who he really is. A scared, sad and lonely teenage boy. One of his tears falls onto Taura's cheek, and she blinks. "I tried," His voice breaks like glass, and he chokes on his sob. "I tried too." More tears fall as his snarling lips contort into a whimpering boy's.

"I know you did," Taura echoes softly. She wheezes again on her blood. "Can you— hold on a little longer?" She isn't crying anymore. No tears can come. "I need— I ne— someone to tell my family I love them. Can you—"

"Yes," he croaks.

"Promise?"

Mateo's chest shakes with the sobs that beat against the bone. He nods, dropping his forehead into Taura's shoulder in attempt to hide his tears from the cameras. Though muffled, you can still hear his heartbroken vow. "Promise."

Taura smiles one of her tiny and warm smiles as her glazed eyes shift past his trembling frame and to the orange sky.

Everyone's heaving hearts drop when Taura Santos's cannon finally blows.

The finality of it morphs Mateo's hysterical sobs into a strangled scream in his throat. His scraped knuckles pound against the rubble repeatedly, punching over and over again. Sage winces. He lurches up from Taura's body, tears streaking across his flushed features and lips quivering into another snarl. This time, words are tangled into his raspy, bellowing and raw scream.

"IS THIS WHAT YOU FUCKING WANT?!"

His bruised fist thumps into his chest as he glowers with a scarlet vengeance at the sky. "HUH?! IS THIS WHAT YOU ASSHOLES FUCKING WANT?!"

He stands with a start, but still careful not to disturb Taura's lifeless body. He stomps through the rubble, lips twitching like a wolf's, dark eyes searching their surroundings. Everyone watches him breathlessly. Even Trellis. His bloody knuckles wrap tightly around the handle of his blade.

Sage's breath hitches when Mateo's eyes lock onto hers. The darkness and fury is enough to blast holes through her chest— through this room— through the Capitol— through the entire Universe. Silver twinkles when he points the blade right at the hidden camera.

"Well FUCK what YOU WANT, and FUCK! YOU!"

There's a grunt and a blur of his arm followed by a piercing shatter. His figure splits into shards that make your eyes cross and hurt. Eventually, the camera crackles to black.

You can still hear his sobs through the microphones as the hovercraft retrieves Taura's body.

━━━━
»»————-　♡　————-««

Well that HURT. I cried so much writing that ending it isn't even funny.  Our poor babygirl Taura Santos, too sweet for the world. RIP sweetheart <3

Welp... please feel free to let me know what you think or feel! I love hearing from you! These Games are ROUGH. Thoughts or predictions?

Feel free to check out my other oc x oc Hunger Games fic Bittersweet Nothings! I published the prologue this weekend, and both oc's are from Ten because you know I'm so intrigued by that district.

Word Count: 8128