Pick a Pic Challenge

Title: Sacrifice

Banner #: 52

Pairing: Edward and Bella

Genre: Romance/Tragedy

Rated: M, for Extreme Violence and Vague Sexual Content

Summary: Long before Katniss Everdeen found a way to break the rules, Edward and Bella, tributes in the Nineteenth Annual Hunger Games, gave the world a love that would live on forever, even if they could not. Twilight/HungerGames Crossover, AH, AU

A/N: In memory of a dear friend, who gave his life to save another. May you rest in peace and know that you are loved.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

To see all entries for this contest, please visit (pickapic).(twificpics).com

. . . Sacrifice . . .

After a lifetime of sparse and bland, Edward Masen, a boy of just eighteen, found himself surrounded by decadence he had only ever imagined. It was some kind of twisted irony that Edward would be presented with more food than he could hope to consume on a day which he could not eat a single bite. He pushed mashed sweet potatoes with apple gravy around his plate as his mentor detailed what would be expected of him and the girl that had also been unwillingly volunteered for his district.

Edward cast a sideways glance at the pocket-sized girl. She had short, spiked black hair, a sharp contrast to pale skin and crystal blue eyes. He knew she must be at least twelve, as per the rules, but she looked no more than eight. She would be one of the first to die, Edward was sure.

It took a moment for Edward to realize the girl was staring straight at him, as were his mentor and the Capitol's escort. He had been asked a question.

"What?" he asked.

Carlisle breathed a slow, regretful sigh. He had been in Edward's shoes just three years prior. He knew the stakes and the odds, and he knew Edward would most likely be dead before the month was up. "I asked if you had any special skills, anything that might help you in the arena."

"I'm good with an ax," said Edward, to which Carlisle nodded. A working person in the lumber district would, of course, know his way around an ax. "And I can carve, but I don't see how that's helpful."

"Don't discount any of your abilities. You never know what will save you in there. What about survival? Do you know how to get food?"

Edward gave Carlisle a flat stare. "You expect me to know how to hunt?"

Carlisle glanced nervously at the Capitol Minion—Edward hadn't cared to learn the name of their newly assigned escort—and shook his head adamantly. "No, of course not. I just thought you might know a bit about plants."

"A little," Edward mumbled, sinking lower in his chair.

"Come now, Carlisle," the Minion crooned. "We're all on the same team. If you have a… questionable skill, Edward, that's all the better. If you win, your district will climb three ranks."

Edward's lip curled at the glee he saw in the Minion's eyes. The man was a greedy, ladder-climbing opportunist. They had words for people like him in District Seven.

"Afraid not, Slick," said Edward. Carlisle's gaze was sharp with warning, but the Minion hadn't any notion of the slight. He ran his palms over the plastered black shell he called hair, grinning with pointed teeth.

"Such an appropriate appellation. I think I will keep it," he said. Edward had to bite his tongue. Carlisle and the Girl looked to be doing the same. "No matter. We can work with the little knowledge you have. You'll be game ready in no time."

"And her?" Edward said, nodding to the Girl.

"Ah, yes, of course. We will do all we can for her," the Minion replied smoothly.

Edward turned to Carlisle and felt his insides run cold at the resignation and agreement he saw in the boy's down-turned face. Their choice was Edward. Any help they gave the Girl beyond the necessary advice took away from Edward's chances.

He was going to be sick.

"I'm tired," he said, standing from the table. Carlisle stood with him, maybe to stop him or maybe to offer comfort; the expressed hatred in Edward's eyes held him in place while Edward made his escape.

It wasn't hatred for Carlisle that Edward felt, but a hatred for the system, the unfairness, the Capitol and everything that came with it. His life had held little meaning before he was named Male Tribute, and now all it meant was death—either his own or the deaths of twenty-three others.

When Edward arrived at his compartment on the train, he crashed to the mattress in a heap. Clothes had been provided for him, but Edward opted for his own worn trousers and mended shirt. The Capitol's "generosity" did not impress him.

. . .

The smell of fried meat roused Edward the next morning and summoned an angry grumble from his stomach. Carlisle and the Minion were conversing quietly at the table when they spotted him.

"Our champion!" said the Minion, patting Edward on the back as he sat.

Edward wanted to rip that hand from its socket and shove it down the Minion's throat. Instead, he piled his plate full of eggs, bacon—real bacon!—something called french toast, and biscuits with gravy. His stomach would ache with how much food he was absorbing, but he couldn't stop. Another forkful was loaded before the last was swallowed. Aside from being famished, Edward thought the food was better than anything he'd ever tasted. If not for his situation, he might have enjoyed it.

The Girl (Edward really needed to remember her name) came to breakfast shortly thereafter, and the Capitol greeted them late in the afternoon. Even Edward gaped at the size and grandeur of such a place. Having never stepped a toe outside of District Seven, where even the well-to-do lived minimally, it was hard for Edward not to be amazed by a rainbow of towers scraping the sky, shining with the sun off a thousand windows—no, more like a million; he had never seen so many windows.

The crowd roared as he stepped off the train. For a split second, one Edward would hate himself for the rest of his life, he relished in the approval, the attention. His heart swelled with a single beat, and then turned to dust in his chest. These people did not truly desire Edward; they wanted only to see him bathed in blood.

Inside a large, squat building, Edward and the Girl were carted away to be groomed. Edward's clothes were shed and replaced after intense scrubbing, dousing, plucking, conditioning, and waxing. It was an experience no man should ever have to go through, Edward thought.

"You'll look fabulous for opening ceremony, and the suit for your interview is just divine!" the head torturer said as she trimmed his unruly hair. She had decided against dying it, since it was "such a pretty shade of bronze!" Edward had wrinkled his nose at her description.

"Interview?" he said.

"Oh, it's new this Hunger Games!" she yipped. "They want to give sponsors a better layout of the tributes. It'll be much more entertaining than the usual stats and bios."

"I'll be so happy to die for your entertainment," Edward said, his throat thick.

"But you could still win, yet!" The Torturer's smile curved around orange-sequined lips. She hadn't a care in the world past making Edward a spectacle.

Once dolled up and deposited in a ghastly costume of bark and leaves, Edward was shuffled to the Remake Center's bottom level, which functioned as a stable. Horses would draw twelve chariots, parading the tributes in all their district-themed glory. District One, the district of luxury, was decked in jewels and gold silk. Edward was a tree.

He found Carlisle in one of the center stalls, staring at a pretty girl near the front as she dragged caramel-colored hair to one side of her neck. As if hearing his wistful sigh, she looked up and caught his gaze, giving him a quick wave and a smile. Carlisle returned the gesture with two pink splotches darkening his cheeks.

"Who's that?" asked Edward, and he found he was actually curious.

"Esme Platt," Carlisle said. "She's just someone I know." Edward gave Carlisle a long, coaxing glare, causing Carlisle to duck his head and laugh nervously. "She was fresh out of her Hunger Games, her first year mentoring, when I was tribute. I didn't have a mentor and the girl I'd come with wanted little to do with me. Esme gave me a few words of encouragement."

"So, are you guys hulch-muts?"

Carlisle's pink grew red and radient. "Excuse me?"

"Grinding gears, turning the hay, singing with the mockingjays? You know... copulating."

"That's hardly an appropriate question, but no, we're not. She's three years older, and we're from different districts. We're only friends who meet when duty calls us together."

"But you want to hulch her," Edward said.

"Can you please stop saying that?" Carlisle nearly screeched, earning a grin from Edward—the first since leaving District Seven. "Oh, just forget it! You need to get in the chariot. District One is already gone."

Edward saw that the Girl was already in place, wearing a joyously amused grin. He wasn't sure she knew what hulching meant, but she was apparently tickled by the banter.

The next two hours were a blur in which Edward's mood consistently worsened. To think he had enjoyed the crowd's attention, if only briefly. The Hunger Games were a "just punishment" for something Edward had had no part in. He should feel "honored" for such a chance at "redemption and restitution."

It was not his fellow tributes Edward wanted to kill.

Carlisle met Edward and Alice (Edward had made note of the Girl's name during the ceremony) at the Training Center, their home for the next week. Edward rolled his eyes when the three just happened to be on the same elevator with Esme and her tribute.

District Four had two previous champions, so Esme didn't have to choose like Carlisle did. Her tribute was a petite brunette, seemingly fragile if not for the confidence in her stature. She caught Edward's eye and nodded toward Carlisle and Esme—both of them giggling, fidgeting, and blushing—then shook her head and copied Edward's eye roll. Edward pursed his lips so as not to laugh. He thought it odd how quickly his anger had faded with shared observations by a stranger.

Though he would have liked to have gone straight to bed, the Minion and the Twin Torturers (Alice's stylist was apparently the Torturer's brother) were waiting at the dinner table, and Edward couldn't pretend he wasn't hungry. He listened to their congratulations on a successful unveiling, nodded along to Carlisle's advice for tomorrow's training, and ate silently beside Alice. Carlisle took care to include her in their discussion, but she might as well have been invisible to the rest. It amazed Edward that she could still smile and laugh knowing no one believed her worth their time. Of the two of them, Edward thought she probably deserved it more.

. . .

"Am I the only one wondering," said Edward to the District Four girl from the previous night, "how Carlisle and Esme found time to talk about us between late last night and too early this morning?"

She turned a grin on him as she tied a series of knots. They were in the Training Room, day one of three in preparing for the Games. "If you have to wonder that, you're not nearly as much of a man as you look." At Edward's scandalized expression, she laughed and said, "They were up all night talking on our level."

"Of course they were," he said, then held out a hand. "I'm Edward."

"I know." He raised and eyebrow and she sighed over-zealously, shaking his offering. "I'm Bella."

"I know," Edward lied. Carlisle had tried to fill in the blanks, but Edward had never been much for names. Bella, he chanted to himself. He would remember.

Edward observed Bella's exemplary knots and admitted, "I'm terrible at that."

She smiled up at him once more, and Edward marveled that it seemed genuine. "That's why we're a team. I do knots. You do… whatever it is you do," she said with a small giggle.

And, indeed, that had been Carlisle's reasoning. Both Edward and Bella were fast and decent fighters, which made them equals. But where Edward could navigate the woods on a moonless night, Bella knew water as well as the fishes; they covered each other's weaknesses.

"Want to teach me?" he asked.

Bella instructed him diligently, but the rope wasn't the only thing being tied in knots. Every now and then their fingers would brush, igniting a weird, yet not entirely unwelcome current beneath the surface of Edward's skin. "You really are terrible," Bella said, smirking with playful arrogance, and Edward noticed she had really pretty eyes. And skin. And her nose was cute, dotted as it was with freckles. Her lips were plump and moist, and Edward wondered briefly how they would taste.

"Uh, um, we should move on, then," Edward said and walked away without a response.

For four exhausting hours, Edward and Bella sampled survival stations for camouflaging, terrain exposure, edible plants and wildlife, archery, swordsmanship, and everything in between. The physicality alone was enough to tire Edward, but the real struggle came in avoiding his growing admiration for one Bella Swan.

It wasn't only the way her chest thrust forward during archery, or how it heaved with exertion. Though Edward's body reacted strongly when Bella bent at the waist and presented her shapely bottom and he could hardly tear his eyes away every time she bit or licked her lips, it was her spirit that attracted him. In just that short time knowing her, he had witnessed fierce determination (she gave her all in every task she attempted), a sense of lightness and caring (she shared her smile often and without restraint, not just to him, but to anyone she deemed needed it), a genuine interest in learning (her questions were several to anyone who could answer them), and a quick wit that kept Edward on his toes (those questions often came with teasing and suggestive barbs).

He was greatly looking forward to spending lunch with her.

"You're going to puke," Bella commented on Edward's mound of treats.

"So what if I do?" he said. "Might as well get what I can while I can."

"Any pleasure you get from downing all that will be wasted when it comes up."

Edward grinned devilishly and said, "Tastes better the second time around," making Bella gag and shudder dramatically. She pushed his shoulder as he laughed, then dug into her plate of meats and vegetables.

"So, why aren't they together?"

"Esme and Carlisle?" At Edward's nod, she sighed and said, "It'll never happen. They're in love, and because of that, neither will ask the other for a relationship of waiting until the next Hunger Games."

Edward swallowed his guilt, it landing like a boulder in his stomach. "I hadn't thought of that," he said, remembering the hard time he had given Carlisle the day before. Outside of the Hunger Games, the districts were kept under lock and key, forbidden from interaction with one another.

"Tell me about District Seven," Bella said, distracting Edward from his melancholy.

They shared stories as they ate. Bella told Edward all about fishing with her father and liking the water more than the boat, and Edward told her all about working the lumber mill, destroying acres of forest only to watch it regrow within a year's time. Bella's curiosity about Edward's family was evident, but after deflecting her umpteenth inquiry, she moved to a less invasive topic.

The glimpse into her life was a gift Edward would cherish, but one he could not return. For how could he match her happy ramblings with the tale of his father's execution on suspicion of inciting rebellion, false though it was, or the illness that had taken his mother and older brother not three years later, leaving a young and frightened Edward to fend for himself? He would rather see her smile.

As the minutes ticked by, Edward noticed Bella's gaze lingering on a large table with one lonely occupant. Alice ate her food quietly, taking small bites and chewing slowly to fill the hour.

"Carlisle told me not to talk to her here," Edward said bitterly. "We need to be a pair, not a pack."

It had been Carlisle's specific and adamant order for Edward to ally with Bella, and only Bella. Two could travel faster and more covertly than a lager group. Pulling in a third tribute would not only slow them down, but would make them a bigger target.

"Don't be mad at him," Bella said, folding her hand over Edward's fist. His muscles unclenched and a sensation of warmth and electricity shot through his veins. "He's doing the best he can. It's got to be killing him that he can only help one of you."

The thought had occurred to Edward, but Bella's words brought it to the forefront. Carlisle was just seventeen, a boy made into a man by the responsibility he carried. If Carlisle didn't make the tough decisions, select who would better garner the sponsors' donations, both tributes were little more than dead. Edward didn't like that Alice was on her own, but he respected Carlisle for doing what he thought was best.

"We better get back to training," Edward said, clearing his throat. He led her out of the mess hall, hand in hand, liking that she had yet to let go.

. . .

It was frustrating and exciting and so damn tragic that Edward could think of Bella and nothing else. He tried not to; he knew it would only end in disaster. But at some point, he stopped caring about circumstances and let himself be consumed by her. He had never met anyone like her, someone soft, yet strong. The girls back home were tough, but distrustful, closed. Not one of them held the spark Bella did. Edward's frown was a permanent fixture at the end of the day, when he was required to retire to his floor and she to hers.

It confused him how quickly Bella had wormed her way into his heart. In eighteen years, Edward had only had minor flames; Bella was a wildfire raging out of control. Just the thought of surviving her distressing him to the point of panic.

One dream had Edward tied to a tree while the other tributes slashed at a screaming Bella. In another, the Minion broke her neck from behind in one quick motion. The worst by far was Bella pleading with Edward as he strangled her with his own two hands. Just after two in the morning, Edward whipped off the duvet and bolted from his room. He was startled to see Carlisle and Esme huddled cozily on the sofa.

"Uh, Edward, what are you doing up?" Carlisle stuttered, creating space between he and Esme.

"I won't do it," Edward said. "I won't. You can help me all you'd like, but I won't kill her."

Carlisle stood and held out his hands in an allaying gesture, sliding tentatively around the sofa. "It's all right, Edward. Who won't you kill?"

"Why would you do this to me, make me want…? I can't have any of it, and you know. You both know!" Edward couldn't breathe. The walls were closing in on him.

"Edward, please, calm down," said Esme. "What can't you have?"

"Bella," he struggled to say. "You made me care about her, and you know what will happen. Why couldn't you just leave me alone?"

"I'm so sorry, Edward," Carlisle murmured. His face was pale, his eyes devastated. "I had no idea this would happen."

"I won't kill her," Edward repeated.

"I know." Carlisle breathed heavily and said, "What would you like to do?"

Edward didn't hesitate. "She needs to win."

"So, you'll die for her?"

"Yes."

Esme wiped tears from her lashes and approached Edward. "Are you sure this is what you want? You've only known her for a day."

"I can't let her die."

"Okay," she said. "I'll tell her."

The door closed with a whoosh, and Carlisle and Edward were left alone.

"I'm sorry," Edward said. "I can't be your champion."

"You don't need to apologize to me." Carlisle gazed past the door, as if watching Esme walk away. "Of everyone, I think I can empathize. Get some sleep, Edward. Tomorrow is another long day."

. . .

"Ow, shit!" said Edward, rubbing his shoulder. Bella had met him on the ground floor and greeted him with three hard punches.

"What is wrong with you?" she yelled.

"You're the one hitting! What's wrong with you?"

"I'm not letting you die for me, Edward Masen."

"You don't have much of a choice."

"Don't I?" she said. "What is it, anyway? Some twisted notion of chivalry? Are you suicidal?"

"I care about you," he muttered.

"You bake for someone you care about, not—" Edward stormed into the training room, but stopped at the entrance when he felt Bella's hand. "If you really cared, you wouldn't put that on me. It's selfish."

Edward scoffed. "Seriously?"

"Did you ever think you dying would be just as hard on me? What if I don't want to live without you?"

"Arrgh!" Edward yanked at his hair. "Fine, let's just… table it for now."

Narrowed eyes and pursed lips contradicted her nod, but Bella followed Edward without complaint. Unlike yesterday, an angry silence stewed between them. He wanted to shake her to see things his way, but he couldn't deny she had a point. If he couldn't bear living without her, it was reasonable she felt the same. Edward was both furious and elated by this revelation; furious because she was making everything difficult and elated because he also couldn't bear her not returning his feelings.

Lunch came and went, and the afternoon passed much the same. The male tribute for District Three stopped to watch them at the obstacle course, then drifted to another station and watched there. It had been the same yesterday. Edward wanted to ask Bella what she thought of the boy who did nothing but observe, but he refused to break their silence first. When he arrived at his quarters without so much as a goodbye, he considered he might have been acting a tad childish. He should have spent every breath getting to know her, if for no other reason than they didn't have much time.

The day replayed itself as Edward tossed in bed. He had skipped dinner, having had no appetite, and now it seemed sleep would also desert him. For the first time in a very long time, Edward wanted to break down and cry.

"Go away," he said to a knock at the door. When the door opened, Edward was ready to throw something. Until he saw Bella.

She slid in beside him and wrapped her limbs around his body. "I'm sorry," she said.

"Me, too."

. . .

Individual training sessions with the Gamemakers happened on day three, and Edward, Carlisle, Alice, even the Minion sat gaping at the results.

"How is that even possible?" said Carlisle.

"Beats me," said Edward. "He didn't do anything. Just stood there."

The highest score a tribute could mark was a twelve. For nineteen years, the highest attainable mark had been a ten. District Three had just shattered that glass ceiling.

Bella's face showed on the screen next to a nine and Edward's own next to a seven. He relaxed, knowing they would draw at least some sponsors. However, his gut twisted for Alice, who had managed only a two.

. . .

"She doesn't let anything get to her," Edward said about Alice as he and Bella lay in bed. She had come to him, same as the night before. "I wouldn't be able to smile if it was me."

"She's accepted it," Bella said while tracing her fingers along the ridges in Edward's thermal shirt. "Why do you keep trying to kill yourself off for me? You have to know how unfair that is."

Guileless brown eyes searched his face in the darkness. Edward sighed and ran his fingers through her hair. "None of this is fair, but it's all I know to do."

"Why can't we let what happens happen?"

"Because you have a family to go home to," said Edward. "I won't be missed."

Comprehension dawned in a sad scowl. "There's no one?"

"No one but you."

The tears she had been visibly trying to keep at bay rushed forward as she sobbed into Edward's chest. "But I'll miss you," she said, and Edward thanked her with feathery kisses to her temple that she had reached her own acceptance.

They had kissed once before, a quick good-morning/goodbye before Bella darted away to ready herself for training. It had left Edward happy and stupid for the rest of the day. The kiss Bella initiated now was not so sweet. She sucked his bottom lip between hers, leaving Edward no choice but to match her slow, torturous prodding or risk losing his mind. His muscles contracted as she trailed her touch over his body, and his breaths came quicker. His heart would surely beat out of his chest, he thought.

Her own gasps masking his, Bella broke away and stared intently into Edward eyes as she pulled at the drawstring to his pajamas. There was no stopping if their clothes came off, and though he knew he should have stayed her hands, he didn't want to; he needed her, just as she seemed to need him.

They explored each other that night. Edward felt none of the desperation he imagined he would have felt when the time came to be with a woman. Instead, he wanted to savor what would possibly be his only night with the one he… loved. Yes, he loved Bella, Edward decided. He had never felt so strongly for anyone.

They slept skin to skin, breathing each other's air, only to be separated by the rude call of their individual duties. Both needed to prepare for interviews and wow the crowd into supporting them in the Games. Edward wasn't even aware of what had been asked and answered as cameras and bright lights shined on. He only saw how beautifully Bella wore her vibrant blue evening gown.

With the Games looming on the breadth of tomorrow, Edward and Bella chose only to be with one another that night. They did not speak; they did not move; they merely stared into the other's eyes, memorizing, wondering, loving and being loved. When Edward was collected the next morning, airlifted to an undisclosed location, and set to wait for the clock to tick down, he felt strangely calm. His heart held a deep-seeded ache for what could never be, but his mind was made and the circumstances final.

The Torturer was with him in his cell, outfitting him in a sleeveless white shirt and beige shorts. He was loaded into a tube, enclosed in glass, and raised into blinding sunlight.

"Don't step off that platform," he remembered Carlisle say, or the Games would be over before they began.

He waited the full minute, willing his eyes to adjust, and just as the cannon boomed to signal the start of the Games, he spotted Bella. Then they were off. At the far end of a long beach was the Cornucopia, a structure that housed gifts from sponsors. Edward was fast, faster than all the rest, and Bella was close on his heels. He scooped up one pack, then another, and veered toward the ax he knew was meant for him. He did not stop. He did not look over his shoulder. He ran as fast and as far as he could go, through a voluminous forest, and toward the smoking mountain in the distance. The only thing keeping him from giving in to the burn in his lungs and legs was the sound of Bella's footsteps right behind.

"Stop… stop!" she said half an hour later. She was holding a stitch in her side, gulping hot air.

"We need to find water," gasped Edward.

Five cannons in quick succession flung a startled Edward to the ground. Bella doubled over in a fit of laughter, a hint of hysteria hidden within. Five cannons meant five dead.

With a huff, Edward got to his feet and dusted off his shorts.

"No," said Bella. "We're too bright. Cover your clothes in mud."

The pair trekked up the foothills at the base of the volcano in search of water, and came to a river, which Edward would have happily dived into to escape the heat were it not for Bella's muttered oath. He watched in rapt attention as she lowered a fallen branch below the surface of the water, where it twitched and jerked. When it emerged, a bouquet of needles pierced its hard brown shell. Bella looked up and down the river, then pointed to an area overgrown with white flowers.

"Whenever you need water, you get it where the katniss' grow," Bella said. "These are falksai fish quills. If one touches your skin, you'll be sick for hours: fever, delirium, respiratory problems. In your bloodstream and you're dead."

She was in her element, confident and beautiful, muddied though she was. Edward couldn't help himself. "I love you."

Bella froze, her finger still hovering midair. Edward held his breath.

"What did you say?" she demanded, dropping the branch to stand in front of Edward. "Repeat what you said."

"I said, 'I love you.' "

"Good." She rested her hands on his chest and took a shuddering breath, her gaze drilling into him. "I love you, too."

"Good," Edward said. His smile broke through his previous panic, and Bella rolled her eyes.

"Come on," she said. "Let's find some place to sleep for the night."

. . .

The second and seventh days claimed a tribute a piece with a victimless gap between. There had been an explosion on the latter that was far too convenient to have been natural, and which Edward assumed was responsible for the life taken that day. The Capitol couldn't have a boring game, after all, and if the tributes didn't do the job, the Gamemakers happily took things into their own hands.

Edward and Bella had been living on a diet of katniss tubers and other various plants, having been unable to catch any edible wildlife. Of the two things he craved, a slab of juicy meat or Bella's increasingly toned body, Edward was unsure which he wanted more. On day ten, one of Edward's snares finally did what it had been designed for and caught dinner, giving Edward hope that at least some part of him would be sated. With a pair of fat rabbits in hand, Edward and Bella made for higher ground.

The rabbits sizzled and popped over the fire, mirroring larger explosions just beyond the ledge behind them. Edward was determined to keep his eyes on the the food and not on the glistening, salty droplets trailing down Bella's throat and into her cleavage.

"It's so hot I almost don't want to eat anymore," she complained. She was sprawled across the sloping ground, her arms and legs sticking straight out in every direction, and her head propped up on her backpack.

"Fine by me," Edward said. "I can eat both these and that flock of Motgulls we spotted."

Bella scowled, earning a smile from Edward. The heat from the fumarole field was making her irritable and adorable. Though Edward would have liked to have made camp somewhere cooler, the steam and smoke gave their fire the camouflage it needed.

Bella twirled her knife and pointed it at Edward. "Watch it, or I may decide I don't need an ally after all."

Edward's grin grew wider as he turned the meat. "You know you love me." When he was met with silence, his gaze strayed from the fire—landing briefly on Bella's chest—to take in her distraught face. "Hey, what's wrong?" he said, scrambling to her side.

She fisted his shirt and pulled him close, despite the heat. "I do. You know that, don't you? No matter what happens, I can't ever regret meeting you. I love you more than I've ever loved anyone. Ever. Please know that."

"I know that." Edward would have liked to have serenaded her with all he felt, but he settled for taking her face firmly between his palms, and saying, "I love you, too."

Bella crashed her lips to his, taking greedily, as if his love were as vital as air or water. Perhaps, to her, it was. Edward had never wanted to share himself so completely, to want to melt into her, become a part of her. He poured his desperation into the kiss. He couldn't regret meeting her, either, but he also couldn't happily accept that one or both of them would die when they had only just started to love one another.

A glint of sunlight caught Edward's attention as he moved his lips down Bella's jaw. "Are your knives ready?" he asked between kisses, his heart racing.

"Your ax is leaning on the rock six feet to your right,"she answered.

They continued kissing and waiting, not willing to let on that they knew they were being watched. Finally, as Edward was making a second pass down Bella's throat, she whispered, "Now."

He rolled to the right and heard one of Bella's knives whistle through the air, thunking into an attacker's chest. The other three rushed her. Seizing his ax, Edward swung, severing the female District One's spine. Bella was fighting the other District One, and District Five's female. He swung again, but was deflected by One's sword, knocking him off balance. Instead of trying to right himself, Edward let the momentum roll him away. From his back, he kicked One hard in the chest and swung, then got to his feet and blocked a thrust to his abdomen, just before it claimed his flesh.

The girls were grunting and clashing somewhere behind him, but Edward could not let his focus be drawn away from his attacker, as much as he wanted to check on Bella. It was taking all his concentration to fend off One, and he would be no use to Bella dead.

"Give it up, Edward," One said, parrying Edward's strike. "I'm bigger, stronger, and better. Drop your weapon and I'll make sure you and your girl don't suffer."

He was right. He was bigger, stronger, and better. But Edward was faster.

As One swung upward, Edward feinted right, then threw all his weight left, aiming his ax for One's neck. In the second before cold steal tore through sinew and bone, drenching them in blood, Edward's heart flickered with regret. He didn't even know the name of the boy he was about to kill. He had thought it might be easier that way, but One's brown eyes were just as horrified and just as piercing.

With her comrades fallen, Five made a break for the trees, and Edward let her go in favor of joining Bella. Relief washed over him upon seeing Bella standing tall, only to be replaced by sheer terror at realizing the puddle of blood beneath her was from the knife jutting from between her ribs.

Bella collapsed, gasping and moaning as Edward ran to catch her. He laid her gently on the ground and tore open her shirt to see how badly she was wounded. His heart sank.

"Edward," she said weakly. "Edward. Edward, I'm—"

"Don't say it!" he said, stroking away her tears with his thumbs. "Carlisle and Esme are sending help as we speak. You're not dying. You're not."

"I love you," she said. "You h-have to… make it out. For me."

"No, damn it! It's you. It's always been you."

"I know. But it can't be now. I love—" She coughed, blood coating her teeth and lips. After a long, strangled breath, she said, "I want you to live. I wa… want my death to m-mean something."

"You can't do this to me," Edward said, barely able to push the words from his swollen throat. Tears coursed down his cheeks and splashed against Bella's skin. "Please, I can't live without you."

"You can. You're so… strong."

Bella's body was starting to slacken. Edward held her tighter, shaking her. "Bella! Bella, please hold on!" He turned his face to the sky and cried, "Carlisle, do something! Please… help her."

"Shhh," Bella said, and then she laughed, rasping and gurgling from the blood filling her lungs. "I'm cold," she said in wonder. "When did it get cold?"

"Oh, God." Edward hunched over her. "I love you, I love you, I love you," he chanted.

Her heart fluttered under Edward's hand, beat once more, and then stopped. Bella's last breath seeped from her mouth as her body sagged, her eyes becoming cloudy and distant. A primal, gut-wrenching wail rang through the forest, around the mountain, and out to sea, mingling with four booms of the canon.

The air was pressing in on Edward, making it hard to breath. His sobs echoed back to him, taunting him, and no matter how hard he begged, Bella would not move, would not breathe, would never tell him she loved him again.

Eventually, Edward's tears streamed in silence as he lay atop Bella's body. She had wanted him to live, but he didn't know how to do that without her. His life before her had been numb, colorless. She had given him more than he'd ever dared to dream, lighting the reds, blues, yellows, greens, and pinks, like sunshine through painted glass, but the glass had shattered, embedding the razor sharp edges deep within his soul, tearing him apart from the inside out.

Five.

She had killed Bella.

She would be the first.

Then he would find another, and another. He would fulfill Bella's final request by killing every last tribute. Then he would live. For her.

Edward's legs shook as he attempted to stand, and by the third try, he was able to get his bearings. He gazed down at Bella, taking her in one last time—brown eyes and long lashes; pale lips that had once been pink and full; tendrils of mahogany, flared about her head. Even in death, she was beautiful to him. He leaned down and kissed her cool forehead goodbye.

Edward had just enough presence of mind to collect his and Bella's gear and a rabbit before setting out. Bella would think him absurd for only taking the one, but he couldn't bring himself to claim his twisted reward after teasing her that he would eat both. Half an hour later, Edward found Five's trail. His footsteps were quick and sure as he followed it deep into the forest, finally catching up to her near the river, where she stood cleaning her wounds. It took seconds for Edward to slither up behind her, yank her head back by her ponytail, and slice her from ear to ear using Bella's knife. Five jerked and spasmed, face down in the crimson current. Edward felt no remorse. He washed the blood from his hands and sought his next target.

. . .

Edward pulled at his hair and paced the length of the clearing. The trail had lead him here, but no matter where he probed, he could find no further disturbances, no footprints, no scattered debris, no displaced stones. It had been this way for eight days. He would get close, so close, only for something to arrest his progress. Yesterday it had been a wild boar three times his size. The day before it had been a volcanic eruption. Today it was nothingness, as though his prey had been lifted clear into the sky.

Edward slammed his fist into the grass, collapsing in on himself. A cannon sounded and Edward screamed. That counted the second tribute dead not by Edward's hand.

His first kill after his revenge had been the boy from District Twelve, a scared, scrawny thing, no match for Edward's muscle and determination. The hours had blurred, days seeping together, and the next time Edward swung his ax, he had been mildly aware that his victims were female. By day three without Bella, he was little more than a machine, registering only the number of bodies left in his wake. He would keep hydrated, eat when he could, and sleep every night, but every second that wasn't taken by necessity to stay strong was devoted to hunting, tracking, and gutting his opposition.

Edward could feel his mind slipping, the Gamemakers pushing him to the edge of insanity, punishing him for the six killed in his quest to bring the Games to an end. Had he been less intent, killed them over a span of more than three days, maybe he would have been left to his own devices. He was bad for business, moving things along too quickly for the Capitol's liking. Edward slapped his fists to his forehead. Why had he not foreseen this?

In a fit of rebellion, Edward snatched his ax and charged through the trees. If he covered enough ground, he was bound to run into someone. A bent tree limb sent Edward toward the river. A skid in the mud veered him west down the bank. Minutes became hours, and Edward still did not slow. As twilight settled its blanket over the forest, Edward glimpsed a blur of pale skin and made his move.

Before his target could flee or the Gamemakers interfere, Edward swung. Adrenaline coursed through his veins and his vision flooded red with lust. He wanted blood, and nothing would get in his way.

A tiny squeak of terror interrupted Edward's rage long enough for for familiar crystal eyes to pierce his concentration. As his ax sought to deliver Alice from the world, Edward's heart ignited in agony. She was a child. They had all been children.

With every fiber of his strength, Edward tried to lift his ax to swing over Alice's head, but physics had already decided her fate. A strangled moan claimed Edward's voice. In a last ditch effort, he let the ax slip from his fingers and tugged Alice by the shirt. The sound of metal on wood echoed in a charged silence. Edward had wrapped his arms around Alice, cradling her head tightly to his chest as it rose and fell rapidly with his breath. She stood petrified like the massive stones scattered throughout the forest, until he felt her lungs fill and emit a woeful cry.

"Shh," he said. "I'm sorry. I'm not going to hurt you."

It was several minutes before Alice calmed enough to ask, "Why?"

"I don't know," Edward said, struggling with his words. "I just can't."

He broke free, tossing an arm on the nearest tree to support his weight. "I don't want this," he said to no one. Edward had only ever been invested to protect Bella. His plan had been her triumph. He could not live in a world where she did not. Damn her for asking it of him!

A tentative hand rested on his back. Alice took several breaths before finding her voice. "I'm sorry about Bella," she said softly, sincerely. "I was rooting for you when I realized what you were doing."

The forest had darkened to near-black, and Edward was glad for it. The illusion of privacy allowed him his tears in a place where they weren't welcome.

"I wa… want my death to m-mean something," whispered the wind. This had been Bella's final request. It was then Edward realized he could give Bella her wish and still meet her on the other side. Alice was young, pure, radiant. Even the Games had not tarnished her innocence. Bella's death would mean Alice's life, a life that would shine far brighter than Edward's ever could.

"Alice." Edward dropped to his knees and took her hands. "Do you want to win?"

Her eyes widened. "Do you mean…?"

"I will do everything in my power to get you home safely, if that's what you want."

"But you would have to die," she said fearfully.

"Dying is my only chance to be happy," said Edward. "I'm asking you: Would it make you happy to go back to District Seven?"

"Yes," she exhaled.

"Then from now on, I swear I will do everything I can to get you out of here."

Alice squeezed Edward's hands as if they alone anchored her to the earth. She hesitated, shifting her weight, and then threw her arms around his neck, sobbing wet thank-yous into his hair.

. . .

It was still dark when Alice woke, yawning and sniffing. She looked around wildly, and then rested her frightened gaze on Edward. He could tell the exact moment her mind broke free of her dreams and she remembered all that Edward had promised: her vision cleared, her shouldered relaxed, and she gave him a blinding smile. Edward couldn't help smiling back.

"I found some lizards. They're not much, but they'll quiet the grumble in your stomach."

Alice hunched slightly and fiddled with her sleeve as though embarrassed. "I haven't been able to find much food."

"Well, that changes now," Edward said. "Dawn will break in a few hours. We have until then to work out our strategy. Can you tell me who's left?"

"Felix, Didyme, and James," Alice rattled off.

"Ah, right. What districts?"

"Ten, Eight, and Three."

Edward cursed his luck, knowing now that Three was the male tribute. He would have liked very much not having to fight him. "All right. I say we get Ten first—"

"Felix."

Edward ignored her. "He might be big, but the other two are strong in a cunning, more intelligent way. They'll be looking to get each other out, and we should let them."

"Are you sure? What if they're going after him… or us?"

Edward scratched his chin, hating the scraggly beard that had grown in. He wasn't much sure of anything, and Alice was right. There was no telling what the other tributes had in mind.

"What if we just lie low?" Alice asked.

This, Edward had learned, was how Alice had survived nearly three weeks among those far more skilled than she. While others were flinging weapons and working out plans of attack, Alice's only objective was to hide. Being small and no great threat, she was as inconspicuous as the surrounding trees.

Edward was already shaking his head. "No. The sooner they're dead, the sooner you're home. I won't risk losing you, too."

Edward kicked dirt over the coals and handed Alice three of the five lizards. He had kept the fire from building and drawing attention, and the night hid any smoke, but Edward no longer wanted to wait for first light. Their best chance was to move on before they were ambushed.

Despite Edward's need for the games to be over, it was another two days before the boom of the cannon signaled what he later learned was Ten's death. He traveled cautiously with Alice in tow; where once his objective had been to kill, now it was to protect. Though part of him hated wasting time, Edward found he rather enjoyed Alice's company. Her wide-eyed innocence battled laughably with a maturity beyond her years, often surprising Edward. Alice had once asked why boys her age hated kissing, but her older brother couldn't keep his lips away from someone called Rosalie. In the next breath she thanked Edward on behalf of her brother, whose smile she had not seen since her name was called and thought she would never see again.

The next day, Edward and Alice made their way toward the sea. They had spent far too much time under the cover of trees, and Edward felt the openness of the coast might bring the Games to a head. They were mere feet from sandy beaches when Edward heard Alice's startled grunt. Instinct threw him to the ground just as a spear ripped the air above his head.

"Run!" yelled Edward. Alice had frozen, but upon Edward's command took off through the trees.

Eight leapt from a small rise, tackling Edward as he tried to regain his footing. Her knife sliced his arm, but he managed to keep it away from his neck. Eight wasn't very large, but she was stronger than she appeared, and wiry. Throwing his leg around got him the upper ground, but he couldn't grab for his ax without letting her go, and the knives seemed fused to her hands, no matter how many times he pummeled them into the dirt.

A mighty kick from beneath rocked Edward off balance. It was all he could do to scramble away before a blade impaled some part of him. He slipped on burning sand as he switched direction, trying to keep near the trees. He could almost laugh that the open coast he had sought would be to his detriment with a knife-thrower like Eight.

Edward was at a loss. If he could get close he could strangle her, but she had weapons she knew how to use. He cursed himself being unable to retrieve his ax. A rock would have to do. Eight crashed onto the beach, missing Edward by a few trees. Not waiting for her to spot him, he flung himself at her, forcing them to the sand.

The first strike was quick, and the second, and third. The fourth took a beat longer. The cannon boomed on the seventh, but Edward hit her twice more, fear and adrenaline spurring the action. He was no longer sure where his blood ended and hers began.

The thought of Alice and Three lifted Edward to his feet. He headed toward the forest to find her, to get her safely home, but a sharp sting to the left of his chest halted him. The effects were slow but immediate. Edward yanked the small spike from his skin, leaving a numbness in its place. He laughed. After all he had faced and overcome, his final battle would be with the poison of a falksai fish. And he would lose.

Three exited the trees, his steps slow and deliberate. He knew Edward didn't have much time before the delirium set in. Well, then, he would have to make it count, Edward decided. He charged, rock in hand.

Three side-stepped Edward and kicked him to the ground. Even without being woozy, Edward knew he was no match for Three. Visions of Alice forced Edward to try again, and again, but to no avail. He was becoming weaker by the moment. Hope and Will gave way to Sorrow and Defeat. Edward had failed a second time to save a life; there was no chance for Alice, now.

"You made my job easy," Three said, standing over Edward's prone body. "I watched you take out every tribute who wanted me dead."

Edward frowned as his breaths became pants. "I tracked you," Three explained. "Where you charge full steam ahead, I know how to hide myself. I knew if I stayed close to you, I'd fare better than on my own." Three smiled sardonically. "Until you upset the order of things. Bet the Gamemakers have never had to stop us from killing each other before."

Everything from screaming to pleading crossed Edward's mind, but it would do no good. Alice was as good as dead. Perhaps Edward had said her name or perhaps Three merely read Edward's expression. He said, "I'll try to make it quick for the little one. Despite what you may think of me, my only goal was to get out alive." Three knelt in the sand and lifted his hand to Edward's mouth. "Peaceful slumber," he said, and Edward could get no more air.

His vision blackened. His body spasmed. He cried. This was not how he wanted to die, a victim, a failure.

Hot droplets showered Edward's face, and his lungs cleared with a gasp. To his side lay Three, a spear protruding from his chest, and above him stood a tear-stained Alice. Edward sobbed in relief. She would live. She would really, truly live.

"Edward!" she wept as the cannon sounded. "Oh, Edward! I'm so sorry!"

"My hand," he said. He wanted her to hold it, but he hadn't the strength to lift it on his own. When he felt her warmth, he squeezed. "This is better."

Alice shook her head furiously, but offered no rebuttal. She rested her head on his chest and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, holding it in place. Edward smiled. This was nice. His body ached and his head swam in circles, but dying in the arms of someone he cared about was not so bad. He wondered if Bella had felt so at peace.

"Edward," he heard Bella say, and there she was, stroking his hair and smiling down at him. Her hair was healthy and her cheeks glowed a soft pink. She was dressed in white, pure as untred snow.

"So beautiful," he said.

Bella grinned. "It's time to come home, Edward. Are you ready?"

"Alice," Edward turned to her, "do you see Bella? She's here."

As foggy as his mind was, Edward could feel Alice trembling, could see an ocean of fear behind her eyes. "Everything is okay now," he tried to console.

"I'm sorry," she said. It seemed she could think of nothing else, so she said it again, and again.

"No regrets. Not Allowed," Edward said, choking on the words. His lungs were being crushed by his swelling insides, his mouth was a vast and scorching desert, and his throat was caving in. The rest of his body was in no better condition.

"But—"

"You have to be happy." Edward shook his head, too delirious to care how it spun. "No, amazing. You have to be amazing."

"I will be. I'll help people. I'll do good."

"And love," Edward said. "Love someone worth it."

"I love you, Edward," said Bella, and Edward grinned. "Everyone is waiting for you."

"Mom?" he asked.

Bella caressed the hair away from his eyes. "She missed you very much. So did you father and brother."

The thought of seeing his family again made Edward laugh with glee. His big brother had been his idol, his parents his protectors. The only thing better was being with Bella.

Edward grasped Alice's hand as tightly as he could manage. "Carlisle, too. No regrets."

"I'll tell him," Alice said.

"This is what was supposed to happen." Edward wheezed. His vision blurred. And his muscles lost their strength. "I want this."

"I'll never forget what you did for me, Edward. You and Bella will live forever."

Edward smiled. He liked the thought of that. The Capitol had thrust death upon him, but he had molded death into the greatest gift: Sacrifice. In death, his life would mean bravery, honor, love, the preservation of innocence, and redemption. In death, Edward was, at last, whole.