They spend the next few hours skimming along the perimeter of the arena, tossing rocks into the electric wall to make sure they're going the right way, and eventually they come across a tree that is thick and sturdy enough to climb.

Katniss is the one to go up, hesitant to leave Peeta and Mags but happy to leave Finnick as she makes her way to the top of the tree, careful to keep a steady pace and firm grip on the branches as she moves along. 

The overhead view of the arena was truly something to behold. She could see the entire thing from right there, from the endless jungle to the boundless sky above her head. It would have been breathtaking, had it not been for the simple fact that it was nothing more than a Capitol creation, a tool for bringing people like herself to their dooms.

 She takes an arrow from her quiver and shoots it into the sky, curious to see how far it will go, and is surprised to find that the forcefield they've been following along doesn't just go past their heads, but over them as well.

With nothing else to see or do, she climbs back down, keeping her eyes fixed on Peeta and Mags as she shares her findings.

"The forcefield is a dome, there's no way out...and I wasn't able to find any signs of fresh water."

She leans back against the tree she's just climbed down from, letting her words of disappointment sink into the minds and hearts of the others, when Finnick decides to speak up.

"It's gonna get dark soon," he says, and though she looks up at him in surprise, he keeps his eyes focused on the ground. "We should set up a perimeter, make camp. We can take turns sleeping. I'll take first watch."

She scoffs at him, and he finally looks at her, eyes guarded as she shoots him down. "I don't think so. If anyone's going to be taking first watch, or any watch for that matter, it's me."

This seems to spark something inside him, because a moment after she's said it his eyes flare with defiance and his mouth twists into a humorless smirk.

"Oh, Honey; that thing I did for Peeta back there?" He points back to the trail behind them, and her mouth turns downwards in a scowl. "That was called saving his life. You're so sure that I want to kill you? Think again. If that's what I wanted, I would've done it by now."

His smile drops into a scowl of his own, and he angrily marches off into the jungle ahead of them, leaving her and the others to stare after him as he goes. She glares at his back, not about to let his words get to her and weasel their way into her heart, and silently hopes he smashes into a forcefield.

She turns back to Peeta and Mags, heaving a sigh as she wipes the small particles of tree bark off her hands. "Okay. Why don't you guys get some rest? I'll take first watch tonight."

Mags nods and goes after Finnick, and Peeta gives her a small smile.

"Okay," he says. "But only for a little bit."

~*~

Finnick quietly sighs to himself, trying to keep watch while simultaneously ignoring the fuming girl beside him.

They set up camp for the night as he'd suggested, and now only he and Katniss remained fully awake out of the four of them, Peeta and Mags resting in the tall weeds about twenty meters away.

It doesn't come very difficultly for Katniss to pretend he isn't there; in fact, she acts as though he's nothing higher than the dirt she's seated herself upon, and he has to say that, although it's hardly polite of her to do so, he's impressed. She's annoyed at him for staying up with her, he knows, because that might mean she has to talk to him, and she doesn't want that. No, she'd much rather stew in her own negativity and let it build until she snaps; anything if it meant beating him at his own game. He doesn't particularly want to talk to her either at the moment, but he knows it's necessary if they ever hope to make it through the Games without tearing each other's heads off.

They sit there for a long time, resting their backs against a large, cool rock, thankful for the cold stone seeping through their uniforms and into their skin. He's not sure how late it is, but it feels like he's been trying for hours to come up with something to say. The artificial moon looms above them, providing just enough light through the canopy of trees to see what lies in front of them, but not enough to make out anything too detailed.

Finnick idly picks at the grass beside him, pulling and stroking and pulling some more, afraid to do anything more than breathe lest the braided girl beside him decided to just up and leave – this is the closest she's willingly been to him since he'd opened his dumb mouth after escaping the Bloodbath, and he'd rather savor their closeness in silence than screw it up further by talking.

Of course, that was how he felt a few minutes ago.

Now, he can't take the quiet as long as he wants to be able to, and eventually it all becomes too much and his frustration comes to a head. He's opening his mouth before he can stop himself, hoping that the first sentence to come tumbling out doesn't completely ruin things between them.

"...So how's Peeta?"

He has to say, he's rather impressed with himself. He knows that she doesn't want to hear him talk, least of all to her, but Peeta always seems to be a safe topic.

And just like he suspects, he's right.

Katniss exhales beside him, looking out into the dark jungle ahead, and though it takes her a while, she replies, "He's...fine. I think. Just...dehydrated."

She starts her answer with a surprising softness, but finishes with a begrudging coldness.

And that makes him angry.

Music starts to play in the sky overhead, and they can see clearly the pictures of the dead Tributes as they fade in and out, seeming to go on forever before they stop.

Unable to help himself, he looks at the blade of grass between his fingers and snarkily replies, "Well that's nothing new. We've been dehydrated since we got out of the Bloodbath. But of course when we do find water, you'll have to be the first to get it. Gotta keep healthy for the 'baby'."

He says the last sentence like it's a vile poison in his mouth, and he even feels the urge to spit as it tastes so bitter on his tongue. He doesn't want to admit it, but it's something that's been irking him ever since their interviews with Caesar. Like a thorn or giant splinter, it's been bugging him on and off all throughout the day, nagging on his mind until it was nearly all he could think about. And with the way Katniss has been treating him lately, he feels no remorse or regret for his words.

She says nothing in retort, and he knows she desperately wants to, but he also knows that she's not stupid, and therefore would never say anything to give the Capitol reason to believe Peeta's words were false, endangering all of them in the process.

But he wants her to.

He wants her to say that it isn't true, that he has no idea what he's talking about, if only to give himself peace of mind.

He was so sure of himself before the Games, so sure that she hadn't felt anything resembling even a sliver of love for the boy, but that was before he saw the look on her face when Peeta told Caesar that she was pregnant. And then when he hit the forcefield, the way she'd ran to his side and cried rivers and rivers of tears...

"You know, maybe I should run into a forcefield," he says after a while, tone full of contempt as he yanks at the grass. "If I'd get to be kissed like that."

It doesn't take her long to bite back a reply. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I think you know what it means," he shoots back, turning his head to look challengingly at her.

She glares at him with the heat of a thousand suns, and he can't find it in himself to hate it; he takes the opportunity to drink in every bit of attention she's freely giving him like it's the tall glass of cold water he's been wanting so badly.

"Well if you didn't want him to live, you should have let him die," she spits, pursing her lips.

"You wanna know why I saved Peeta?" He asks, leaning closer. "Ask yourself this; do you really think I cared whether he lived or died? I didn't do that for me. I did it for you."

She widens her eyes at him as though he's just cursed her very name, though she doesn't shrink away from him either as he looks her squarely in the eye. "...What?"

"You heard me," he says tightly.

She gets up from her place beside him, apparently fed up with his attitude, and he follows, none too keen on letting her off so easily after the mental Hell she's put him through.

"Do you honestly think I would have bothered to help him if you hadn't been there?" He asks, failing to keep his voice as low as he would like. "Do you think I wouldn't have taken Mags and run? That I wouldn't have taken what I could from him and left him to sizzle and rot like a worm on the sidewa-"

She whirls around and slaps him, the force of which leaves his cheek with a stinging heartbeat and (probably) her wrist with a sprain, and he stumbles back a couple of steps before turning to stare back at her, shocked.

She heaves with fury, nostrils flaring and shoulders rising and falling with each livid breath, and he can tell that she's not in the least bit sorry for what she's done.

Which is good; because he isn't sorry for what he does either.

Taking a few long strides forward, he takes her face between his hands and crushes her mouth to his, taking advantage of her shock and backing her into a nearby tree.

She rails against him, pushing and shoving and angling her face away, but he only holds on tighter as he presses his lips more firmly against hers, intent on getting rid of the mounting frustration he's been stuck to deal with for the past thirteen hours. He grabs her wrists and pins them above her head, halting her efforts to hit him as he bites none too gently on her bottom lip, when she suddenly kicks him in the shin, succeeding in pushing him away. He breathes heavily as he stares at her, taking his time in catching his breath as he admires the flush in her cheeks, barely visible in the moonlight.

He moves forward to touch her, but she backs away, wiping her mouth as she whispers in a shaky voice. "Don't..." He opens his mouth to counter her but she cuts him off, finishing her sentence with absolute fury. "EVER, touch me again."

He blinks, taken aback, but he is suddenly thrown back into reality as he reminds himself that there are cameras everywhere, and that the entire world has just seen what he's done. He doesn't particularly care – he never really expected to make it out of the Games in the first place – but he knows that for someone like Katniss Everdeen, image is everything. Snow has seen. Her district has seen. He might as well have killed her sister right before her eyes.

Although speechless, he still feels the need to say something to calm her down; though he doesn't regret their kiss, he does regret humiliating her on national television and making her feel like dirt.

He stutters out an apology, even though he doesn't mean it for the same reasons she wants him to. "...I'm...I'm sorry-"

She shakes her head and cuts through the air with her hand, silencing him. "Stop. Just stop it. Stop saying you care about me, stop saying I don't love Peeta, and stop following after me like some kind of lost mutt! Just face the fact that Peeta has something you could never hope to have even if you tried, accept that he's more deserving of it than you, and leave me alone!"

She spits her words with all the venom she can muster, and he'd be lying if he said he weren't affected by them. He can't see her face very clearly in the darkness, but he likes to think that he sees tears glistening in her eyes. He realizes that this assumption is a long shot, but he'll take anything he can get to lessen the blow he's taken at her hateful words.

They stand there in the moonlight, both adopting stances like that of hurt animals as they keep their distance from each other, neither able to avert their eyes or move from their rooted spots on the jungle floor. Their only savior is the crunching sound of footsteps approaching them, and they both turn their heads in relief toward Peeta.

"Hey guys!" He whispers excitedly, grinning. "Haymitch sent us a spile! Come on, me and Mags have already had our share!"

Finnick stares confusedly at him while Katniss looks overjoyed, and she quickly forgets about their spat as she breaks into a tired run and follows Peeta through the jungle, boots crunching the plants below their feet in a thunderous drone. Finnick stands there a moment, looking forlornly at their figures as they fade into silhouettes in the distance, and slowly breaks into a run himself to catch up with them.

Whatever it was, it had better be amazing.

~*~

As it turns out, a 'spile' is a small device used for getting water out of trees, or so Finnick has come to learn.

They take leaves from nearby plants and use them as makeshift cups, greedily letting the crisp, weed-flavored water cool their dry, scratchy throats. They drink for what seems like forever, getting drunk on nothing but the life-giving qualities of water and giggling with mirth as they raise their invisible glasses to Haymitch Abernathy for looking out for them.

With their stomachs full and their thirsts quenched, it isn't hard for Peeta and Mags to fall asleep and drift into dreams of better places. It is, however, hard for Finnick and Katniss to stay awake and keep watch.

He still insists on staying up with her, even though he knows she can probably do a better job of it than him and she's made it perfectly clear that she wants nothing to do with his dirty, filthy self, not because he wants to annoy her but because he still feels the need to make things right. If he's going to die here, he wants there to be nothing but clarity between them. Unfortunately, it doesn't seem that tonight will be the night for that.

Cannons begin going off, one after the other, and they come so fast and so sudden that he's unable to keep count. He hopes that it will keep going off until all of their competition is dead, but he knows this is wishful thinking. After a while they die down, and he and Katniss sit there listening for more, relaxing their ears when they don't come.

"I counted twelve," she says quietly, piquing his interest.

"...For midnight?" He asks, racking his brain.

"Or the number of districts," she says. "...I don't know."

Things are still incredibly tense between them, he can feel it, but at least she's willing to talk to him like a civil human being. A bright light floods through the foliage and into their small campsite, and they both look through a break in the trees at the source; lightning hits on the other side of the arena, striking a large, colossal tree that could never be found in true nature, over and over until it seems as though it will never stop.

They stare at it in silent awe and discomfort, not bothering to count the number of strikes as they're so numerous it's impossible to tell. Gradually, it stops, and the light playing across their faces fades back to the darkness they've grown accustomed to, bathing their surroundings in midnight blue.

Not a minute after the lightning quits, a feeling of incredibly strong drowsiness washes over him like a tide, and he finds himself almost nodding off then and there. He turns to look at Katniss, seeing her sitting a few feet away, seemingly wide awake, and he decides to finally give his efforts of reconciling a rest.

Lids growing heavy, he sleepily says, "I'm tired...and if you're not gonna sleep, then I will."

She says nothing in reply, drawing her knees up to her chest and staring out at the large tree in the distance, and it's all he can do to keep from yawning as he rolls over onto his side and makes himself as comfortable as possible in the dirt and grass. He knows he shouldn't try to stay awake, as he knows it will do him no good in the morning, but he is reluctant to let sleep overtake him.

Wearily, he drifts to sleep, his last conscious thoughts centering around Katniss, Mags, and Peeta.

He hopes his nightmares don't wake the others.

~*~

Finnick awakens to the sound of Katniss screaming.

Her voice is muffled at first, but as his eyes focus and her frantic body language comes into view, the message is clear; run. And he does – they all do. He wakes Mags and heaves her onto his back, running as fast as his tired legs will allow as he and the others bob and weave through the trees, trying not to fumble in the dark. A poisonous fog is enveloping the jungle, spreading at an alarming rate.

He hears Katniss scream in agony behind him, and he turns abruptly to see if she's okay, running again when Peeta stops to help her up. They quite literally run for their lives, pushing the limits of their cramped muscles as they fly through the darkness, but it isn't enough; Peeta is caught in the fog and Finnick falls behind as well, their agonized screams piercing the night air. Katniss is able to help Peeta up but he falls again a few moments later, and by the time Finnick's caught up with them he can tell that he's in no shape to move.

Katniss looks up at him with a terrified expression, eyes shimmering with tears as she cries, "I can't carry him."

He looks at her sympathetically, her cracking voice tearing him in two as he tries to ignore the fast-approaching fog and think of a way around the problem. As he does this, Mags shifts around on his back until he lets her down, and he turns around to see what she wants.

She smiles at him softly, and as she places a hand on his shoulder his heart gives off a dreadful, powerful beat, stilling into nothingness as it slowly dawns on him what she's planning to do.

"...Mags?" He asks warily, hoping he won't have to endure what he knows is coming.

Mags says nothing, just smiles and kisses him goodbye, and before he can stop her she's walking into the fog.

"Mags?!" He calls, voice rising into panic. "Mags?! MAGS!"

He moves to go after her, but Katniss grabs his arm and forces him to stay. "Finnick! Finnick!" She yells, pulling him back to reality. "Finnick, we have to go. We have to get out of here!"

He looks back at her, pained eyes meeting hers, but says nothing. She stares at him, and though she doesn't say anything either he knows by the sadness in her eyes that she feels for him, and it's more than he can ask for given the current moment.

"...We have to go," she says again, strengthening her crumbling voice as she squeezes his arm.

He has to focus on her words in order to understand, but he gets it; the still-burning fire in her eyes tells him that he needs to move, and he needs to move now.

The fog is approaching fast, but he is able to lift Peeta across his shoulders and break into a run, ignoring the tightening cramps in the muscles of his legs as Katniss moves beside him. They don't look back – they know that if they do it'll only slow them down – but they can feel the fog biting at their ankles and feet, burning the skin beneath their uniforms. He trips on a tree root after about a