▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀

chapter twenty-seven
NIGHTMARES AND SECRETS

▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄

Every time Sage closes her eyes, she's cursed with nightmares. A typical symptom given everything she's experienced, but since Colt's untimely death and the announcement of the Quell, the severity and frequency of them have gotten worse.

This time, she's in the pastures with her brother when Peacekeeper Garrison orders him off his horse. She tries to block Colt from the baton, but it's no use, the sickening crack of his skull so intensely real she feels herself cry out. His bloody hat is carried off into the wind. When they keep beating him, she throws herself on top of his body, taking the blows instead.

Eventually, the scenery shifts, and they aren't in the pastures anymore. Colt's bones turn to ash beneath her, intertwining with the dirt. She tries to scoop up her brother before he's gone, but it's no use. Peacekeeper Garrison is still beating her over and over again as she scratches at his eyes, howling like a wounded animal.

When she goes for a hatchet, the white helmet looming above her morphs into a head of golden hair. Augustus's polished features tarnish quickly, melting off into something brutish and cruel, worse than any rabid animal she's ever seen. She swings her hatchet right for his throat as her scream morphs with the one she made when she killed Niels in terror. Augustus falls, gaping and holding his neck. When he hits the ground, he turns into Ptolemus, his blue eyes lifeless and his blood all over Sage's trembling hands.

After screaming herself awake, she tears the covers from her clammy body, tumbling out of bed as her knees slam into the floor. She crawls all the way to the bathroom of her compartment, barely making it to the toilet in time before she heaves out her guts. Her lungs burn, unable to breathe as tears sting her eyes. Every time she goes for a desperately needed breath, more of her dinner comes retching up, almost choking her. She heaves until there's nothing left but bile, slumping to the ground and pressing her seething spine against the cool tile.

She isn't sure how much time has passed as she lays there, but she must be hallucinating, because eventually Barrow is standing over her, peering at her with weary and dazed eyes. He tilts his head at her with worn lips in a tight line. He shakes his head, then holds something above her. A blanket. She just groans and blinks him away from her vision.

She must've fallen asleep, because when she opens her eyes, a concerned and dumb-founded Philo is standing over her, his toupee almost slipping off his head. Morning sun gleams through a small window above the shower.

"Is she dead?!" he blurts ridiculously, staring right into her open eyes. His reaction comes off delayed as he straightens. "Oh! Oh, Sage! What on earth happened?!"

Her lips part, but no sound comes, her throat and chest aching. Philo's paunchy hand reaches down to grab her, and he straightens her off the floor with the help of someone else. They prop her along the wall, and when they do, she notices the blanket still draped around her body. Perhaps she didn't dream Barrow then. She recognizes Shep's emerald stare watching her.

"You didn't come to breakfast," Shep mentions. The thought of food almost makes her stomach quiver. His lips form a tight line. "Barrow kept mumbling and pointing to your chair."

Philo runs a wash cloth under the faucet, ringing it out once before placing it along her clammy forehead. "You look terrible, dear."

Well...

She clears her throat. Shep picks up on it immediately, and pours water into a cup from the sink. He gives it to her, and she drinks it gratefully. A weak and tired smile.

"Nightmares, you know?"

Shep nods knowingly. "Maybe you should take a shower. We'll be there in an hour."

Sage follows his instruction despite the fact she'll be hosed down soon anyway. Her breath and pores reek, and she can only imagine the comments she might receive from her Prep Team.

By the time she's showered and dressed in something else, it's time to follow Philo off the platform and through the tunnel to the Remake Center. As they walk, she tries to make eye contact with Barrow, but he's too focused on another wooden creation he's carving. He leaves shavings behind him like a trail of crumbs as his nurse carefully guides him. Sage finds herself anxious to know what it is.

Before her and Shep are swept away by their Prep Teams, she makes a point to stop Barrow at the elevator. His nurse eyes her uneasily when Sage places a tentative and gentle hand to his shoulder. The older man straightens, peering over at her with a narrowed and cloudy gaze. Sage just smiles.

"I like your carving."

Barrow grins a toothy grin, then nods. "Gracias."

She thinks about adding her gratitude for the blanket, but Shep advised her not to. He might not remember it, and trying to remind him of something he can't remember could upset him. His nurse appears relieved by his reaction before sending them up the elevator to the Tenth floor, where they'll likely pump him with more meds.

Her nightmare haunts her as she zones out her Prep Team's chatter around her. She keeps rubbing at her fingers, trying to wipe away Ptolemus's blood staining her skin. She hates how real it all looked and felt.

It's okay. You will get him out. Shep too.

Zelia is crying like usual, and Orion is obnoxiously stiff, reciting his conduct of a professional over and over again. She can practically recite it herself. She doesn't bother consoling them. They should be sad. They should be more than sad, in fact, they should feel guilty. Their beautiful and skilled hands help the same ones that orchestrated an entire Quell to kill her.

Well, not her specifically. Really Katniss and Peeta. Either way, a Quell to murder Victors just like her who are tired of The Capitol and their merciless and unjust rules.

When Tatiana finally comes into the room, hugging Sage tightly and kissing both her cheeks, the Victor tries to smile.

"My beautiful girl! How are you?"

Sage straightens. "I—"

"Wait until you see what I've got in store for you. Something out of the box for such an out of the box Quell!"

Sage exhales shortly through her nose, clenching her jaw. After three years of being dressed by Tatiana, she wishes she could have a closer relationship with the woman. She does have her moments, but even her moments lack the depth that she needs from someone right now. Philo and Tatiana care about Sage only in the ways that are capable. She's always known that deep down, but the announcement of the Quell has made it even more blaring.

She wants to see Ptolemus.

Tatiana has Sage slip into a nude bodysuit sparkling with so much glitter she feels like a disco ball. She prays for pants, but pants never come. Only a belt with an obnoxious gold and glittering buckle constricting her waist. Tatiana shrugs a giant black fur coat over Sage's shoulders, the end of it just reaching the middle of her thighs. She tapes the lapels down so that they barely cover her breasts, and some more tape is added beneath to push them up for shape.

"Great for Sponsors," Tatiana quips.

Sage grinds her teeth together as she slides into her matching black cowgirl boots with a dangerously high heel. Her raven hair falls sleekly down her back and blends in with the minx fur, and she stifles the urge to ask how many were slaughtered for such a coat. Tatiana adds some finishing touches to her dark makeup before adding the last touch. A black cowgirl hat with black feather accents on the top of her head.

"Marvelous!"

"Ran out of animals to kill for a pair of pants?" Sage asks dryly. She adds a tight smile to soften the blow.

Tatiana clicks her tongue at her and shakes her head. Then she raises her brows at the Victor in amusement before patting her thigh encouragingly. "Don't worry, you've got the legs for it."

When she's finally let out of the dressing room, she spies Chiron and Shep waiting in the hall. A similar look, Shep also fashioning a massive black fur coat, cowboy hat and no shirt, leather pants covering his legs. Sage can't help but feel jealous.

"I think I would've rather been dressed up as a traditional cowboy," Shep mutters as they emerge to the tunnels. Several pairs of Victors already wait, conversing with one another. "Or maybe even a cow."

Sage folds her arms over her chest, the roar of the crowd growing louder as they pass an open skylight. Someone shouts her name.

"At least you got pants."

The more she walks the more the bodysuit rides up, and now she's exceedingly grateful for the fur coat's length. She might as well be walking around in lingerie. Shep ducks his head with sympathy. "Sorry."

The leather makes an obnoxious squeaking sound with each of his strides that you can hear just under the ravenous crowd's cheers. He flinches when someone screeches at the sight of another Victor's arrival.

His green eyes aren't quite clouded, but there is a faint mist building as he fights back memories. "Hopefully this will be over soon."

Sage nods in agreement. Her dark eyes lift from her feet to comb the Victors who are prepped and ready. Instead of mounting their chariots and avoiding each other like all the other years, they engage in conversation, even shaking hands. Most of them have become friends at this point, which makes everything so much worse. She spots Cashmere somewhere toward the front decorated head to toe in silks and jewels. They didn't give her pants either.

She thinks about attempting small talk, maybe the two able to bond over their Stylist's fashion choices, when Shep interrupts her thoughts.

"Will you be alright if I go..." His voice trails, and she follows his stare toward Five's Chariot. His friend Wattson sips from a goblet of wine.

"Sure," she says. While goosebumps blossom across her bare legs, she's also sweating from the thick fur. She doesn't know whether to shiver or fan herself as she keeps her arms folded across her chest. "I want to find Tolly before this starts anyway."

With that, Shep goes off to speak with his friend, leather squeaking the whole way over. Sage awkwardly stands in the middle of the tunnel, so she stalks closer to the black horses in front of her chariot. Her fingers stroke one's mane mindlessly, and she pretends it's Sunshine.

Sage searches for those familiar blue eyes while petting the horse, the idea of them lifeless still haunting her. Just when she sees him entering through the double doors, someone blurs in front of her.

"No pants for you either, huh?" Finnick comments, clicking his tongue along the roof of his mouth.

Sage tries to sweep her gaze across his outfit, then immediately regrets it, forcing her eyes to his and away from the fishnet tied around his groin. He smirks, and she inhales a sharp breath. "No, it would seem not."

Finnick then peers over at Shep's outfit several chariots down. "Can't say the leather is a good look either, though." Before she can respond, he quirks a brow. "Just wanted to see how you were faring with the news of the Reapings. Looks like your boy can pack quite a punch."

"He can." She glances over his tanned shoulder for Ptolemus again. Their gazes lock, and she knows he's found her. She'd run to him if she weren't filled with dread at the sight of who she's talking to. "So I'd suggest you keep moving. There's only so much I can do."

Finnick smiles. "Well I hope you do everything you can."

There's a point to the glimmer in his eyes. Then his stare shifts just past her shoulder, and a new name is chanted through the crowd. She makes it out easily. Katniss, Katniss, Katniss!

"I think I'm going to go welcome the newcomer."

Sage is just about to let him saunter past, heart pounding in her chest, when she remembers his words from Adonis's party. The reward for her doing everything she can. Midnight. So specific yet so ambiguous. She sees Ptolemus's eyes empty and lifeless again.

"I hear they're placing bets," she starts, her voice halting him in his tracks. Finnick pauses as he listens. "On how many days before we're all gone? Any guesses of your own?"

"Hm." A thoughtful shrug, and he raises his brows. A corner of his lips tug upward. "I give it... two days."

She raises her brows at his gutsy prediction. "Only two?"

He smirks. "We're Victors now. My friends and I don't drag things out."

Two days. Two days in the Arena until the plan is finally carried out. She nods in confirmation, accepting his idea. On the second day at Midnight, she'll make sure they're ready.

"Have a good day, Navarro."

And with that, Finnick is sauntering off to disturb his newest ally who doesn't know they're allies quite yet.

Ptolemus's costume clinks as he maneuvers through the crowd. According to Eudora, he's supposed to resemble Ares, God of War himself, steel wrapped around his frame. They didn't give him a shirt, only a spiky chained vest that feels more like jewelry than clothing. His kilt is decorated with metal too. There's silver dusted on his shoulders, as well as a steel Victor's crown balanced on his head and eyes lined with coal. Enobaria wears something similar except in gold with a breast plate to cover her chest.

His eyes center in on Sage near Ten's chariot. Finnick's bronze head of hair is somewhere nearby, too close for comfort, and he feels his heart pound. His knuckles twitch at his side. Eventually, their gazes lock again, and the racing of his heart is for a different reason entirely. The anger for Finnick is stifled, and he picks up his pace to reach her. He remembers how sad yet brave she looked on the Reaping Recap.

Sage's heart aches as he grows nearer, and she reaches out for him. Normally, they wait for cameras to capture such a kiss in The Capitol, but both of them could care less given the circumstances. If they see it, they see it. If not — even better.

"Hi gorgeous," Ptolemus murmurs, tilting the brim of her hat with a touch of his finger. He then uses his knuckle to prop up her chin and draw her lips up to his. Sage peers at his blue eyes, so bright and lively unlike her nightmare, and relief blankets her briefly. She smiles into the kiss as she wraps her arms around him.

There's a stare or two in their direction, but Ptolemus doesn't care. He's going to savor every moment he can get. The most they have together is two weeks.

Finally, their lips pull away for a breath, and she leans into his chest for an embrace. He clings to her too, kissing the top of her head (which is really her hat — obnoxious feathers and all) while his steely gaze sweeps across the scene around them. His eyes lock onto Katniss Everdeen's just two chariots down, who seems to be in an uncomfortably close conversation with Finnick. She quickly darts her stare away from the couple and back to the man in front of her.

Sage leans back to look at him. She can see out of the corner of her eye his knuckles are bruised, but if there's any marks on his face from a brawl after the one she saw on stage, they've covered it well. Ptolemus almost shivers when her palm instinctively finds the hidden bruise anyway as she cups his jaw.

"How do you like my haircut?" he asks lightly, gently fixing her hat on her head. Part of him can't believe she's finally here in front of him again, the last time they saw each other being the Summer Solstice.

Her lips tug upward as she sweeps her stare across his new look. Her fingers run across the cropped hair tentatively. "Beautiful," she teases.

"Did it myself, actually," he states proudly, a devious glint in his eye.

She quirks a dark brow. "Oh really? Maybe your next profession can be a barber."

Ptolemus grins, ducking down and kissing her again. Before he can ask her how she's doing, if she's alright, what she's feeling — maybe even what Finnick had to say, the two minute warning for the Parade blares. He feels her jump in his arms, lashes knotting together to blink away memories. His knuckle is underneath her chin again to bring her eyes up to his.

"I'll find you after, alright?"

She nods in a daze. Ptolemus kisses her lips, then her cheek, finally giving her palm one more comforting squeeze as their fingers trail away. He holds her gaze a little longer before swiveling on his heels back toward his chariot. He passes Shep along the way.

"Shep," he nods.

The man returns the gesture respectfully. "Ptolemus."

He passes Four's chariot, but only Mags is in place, a Stylist helping the old woman up. Ptolemus glares over his shoulder for Finnick. Fortunately, he isn't bothering Sage again, taking his time to return to his place after speaking with the kids from Twelve. Finnick's sea-green eyes find The Legacy glaring, and he smirks a charming smirk. Ptolemus scowls and continues his pace.

Both Cashmere and Augustus are already up in their chariots, decorated in silks and dazzling jewels as usual. Enobaria shoots Ptolemus a glare he ignores. The procession is just about to start when Augustus peers over his shoulder at him. The man grins an irritating grin as he sweeps his stare across his outfit.

"Cute skirt, Tolly Boy."

Ptolemus sneers. "I didn't think someone could make diamonds tacky." A shrug, his armor shifting with the movement. "You seem to have no problem with it though."

Augustus's chuckle is drowned out by the roar of the crowd and the whir of the chariots' wheels as the horses pull them out to the street. Two follows shortly after One, sunlight temporarily blinding Ptolemus. He stifles a squint, simply glaring straight ahead as the crowd screams and chants his name. Anger hums beneath his flesh at the sight of The Capitol people hooting and hollering. All that pity in his and Sage's direction after the announcement has magically vanished, and his heart pounds furiously with the ceremony drums.

Further down the line, Sage feels similarly, flames flickering in her chest and licking at her heart. She can't believe she's doing this again. Never in any world did she think she'd be doing this again. There's moments where three years ago feels like centuries, and then there's moments where it feels like days. She grips the handle of the chariot with white knuckles to steady her trembling fingers.

She and Shep stand side by side, neither of them attempting pretty smiles or polite waves. Most of the other Victors seem to share a similar mentality with a few exceptions who are too afraid to misstep. Sage glowers at President Snow as they pass his throne along the balcony, but he's not looking at her. He's too busy having a stare down with The Girl on Fire two chariots behind her.

The Tribute Parade seems to drag with all the speeches since it's a Quarter Quell. Eventually, the horses return back down the aisle and into the tunnel. Sage is squirming to leap off the chariot, desperate to free herself from these dreaded clothes. She hopes Tatiana has something more comfortable planned for the Interviews.

Ptolemus leaps down from the chariot the moment the horses are drawn to a halt inside the tunnel. Cashmere begrudgingly takes Augustus's hand as he helps her down. Ptolemus tries to be a gentleman and do the same thing for Enobaria, but she just swats his hand away, flashing her fangs.

He shrugs. "Suit yourself."

"Why don't you go find Farm Girl while the adults talk strategy, hm?" she suggests wryly, gesturing toward the Victors from One. Cashmere looks up from her nails in annoyance, shooting Enobaria a questioning look that asks, Now?

Ptolemus grins. "Great suggestion. And my parents will keep working on our Sponsors."

Enobaria stiffens at that dig. Part of him feels guilty for using it, after all, he'd much rather have anyone but his own parents as their Mentors. But it does give him an advantage regarding his strained relationship with his allies. Particularly with his District Partner. Should she choose to sever the alliance too soon, it might be safe to say that could also potentially sever her chance at Sponsors, or at least stifle the flow of gifts in the Arena. If he didn't have Sage to worry about his conscience might get the best of him.

It's when he's going to look for her that he becomes side-tracked by a familiar head of bronze hair. Finnick has stepped off his chariot, assisting Mags to do the same, the old woman smiling at him. Ptolemus hopes he doesn't have to kill her.

Perhaps Finnick will do what he does best and turn on his allies once they're in the Arena again — even the ones who look out for him. Wouldn't be the first time. Ptolemus doesn't gain any satisfaction for such a thought as he peers at sweet old Mags.

Woof from Eight, close in age to the old woman, hobbles over to greet her in his patchy textile attire. He remembers Gunnar mentioning all the bullets being sent to his District a few months ago.

Finnick swivels on his heels just in time for Ptolemus to side-step into his way. While the Victor from Four raises his brows in surprise, a curious and amused glint in his eye, the Legacy just smiles a dry and close-lipped smile.

"'Sup man. How're you?"

"Peachy," Finnick says. He stares calmly and coolly at the Victor from Two despite his towering height and gorish outfit. He clicks his tongue to the roof of his mouth, knitting his hands neatly behind his back. "I'd ask you the same but I saw that punch. Mean right hook."

Ptolemus nods, raising his brows. "Oh you liked it?"

"Temper like that can be interesting," Finnick quips. "Or get you into trouble."

Ptolemus doesn't even flinch as he shrugs and sighs. "Yeah, well so can wandering off to places you shouldn't."

The Victor from Four frowns coyly. "I'm afraid I don't know what you're referring to."

"Hm. Course you don't."

Ptolemus takes a step closer, voice dropping several octaves. Finnick doesn't take a step back as he just watches curiously, meeting his piercing glare evenly. "I know what you're doing."

"Oh do you?"

More coy games. Ones he has no interest in playing.

"Keep your distance," Ptolemus warns. "Because you do anything to her — anything — I don't care how big that Arena is I swear to God I'll find you."

Finnick clicks his tongue at him as he takes his threat with stride. "You're going to have to be more specific than that when speaking about a woman. I'm familiar with a lot of 'hers' around here."

Ptolemus runs his tongue along his teeth and sneers. "You know exactly who I mean." Finnick almost looks like he'll laugh at him and utter another coy comment. He interrupts him before he can.

"No, no keep it up man," The Legacy dares. A nonchalant shrug followed by a threat not so nonchalant, his glare unyielding. His tone is light and pensive with a twinge of malice dripping behind. "Maybe I'll get the chance to do something I've been dreaming of since you killed Ally."

The corners of Finnick's lips tug upward in stiff amusement as he stares. Something knowing glitters in his eyes. "If only dreams came true."

Ptolemus clamps a hand down onto his shoulder with a false sense of camaraderie, taking his arrogant reply with stride. "Keep doing what you're doing and this one will."

Finnick doesn't seem to take well to his threats as he cocks his head to the side, the haughtiness chilling into something else. Another smile from Ptolemus, and he nods mockingly at him, mimicking his famed mannerisms.

"See you around, Odair."

With that, Ptolemus stalks off to find Sage. His chest heaves, and he tries to take a deep breath, clenching and unclenching his jaw. All he can think about is that trident in his sister's chest, the nightmares interchanging her with Sage. Not to mention Finnick's stupid smirk lingering far too close to her for comfort earlier.

If the man's smart, he'll avoid putting an even bigger target on his back. Ptolemus can't lie when he says he's itching for a chance to go up against Finnick in that Arena, that wrathful boy in him ready for a moment like this.

His shoulder bumps into Peeta Mellark's, startling him out of his thoughts. The two just blink at one another before uttering pleasantries and apologies. The Victor from Twelve's lips part like he wants to say something, but Ptolemus ignores him, finally finding Sage.

He should've known she'd still be with the horses. All the others have been lead back to the stables with the Avoxes, but Sage must've done some convincing to allow her just a few extra minutes.

Sage continues to rub the black mare's coat, the sensation soothing beneath her trembling hands, when she hears that familiar clink of armor approaching her. She peers up beneath her hat to spy Ptolemus.

He smiles, leaning down to kiss her cheek in greeting. "Hey."

"Hey." Her lips curl upward into a bittersweet grin as she glances back to the horse. "Wasn't quite ready to go yet. She reminds me of Sunshine."

Ptolemus looks to the horse, his fear slowly fading to indifference with more visits to the Navarro farm over the years. He's still anxious as hell when trying to feed one a carrot or an apple, half-expecting them to bite his fingers right off, but he can muster up a friendly pat or two. This horse and her faithful one back home do have a resemblance with their matching coats.

"You'll be reunited with her soon," he murmurs lightly. It's meant to comfort her, she knows that. She still struggles to hide her pout from him anyway.

Sage certainly hopes so. Just not for the reason Ptolemus thinks. The Avox comes back, gesturing politely for the horse. Sage obliges as she gives the mare one last melancholy pat. She nods in the Avox's direction. "Thank you."

The two walk hand in hand to the elevator. Ptolemus's parents are nowhere in sight, either conversing with potential Sponsors or back on the second floor. The Legacy doesn't care.

"I don't have any notes to pass this time," Sage starts as he hits the button. She peers at him through the golden door's reflection, squeezing his hand. "But I was hoping you'd be able to stay the night with me? If you can get away..."

Ptolemus smiles and nods. "Don't have to ask me twice."

━━━━

He only stops by his floor to shower the silver dust off his skin and change out of his ridiculous outfit. Enobaria and his mother are busy watching the Parade recaps and commentary, while his father glowers into his bourbon by the island. Deverra is no where in sight.

Nero seems to be begrudgingly following Petra's orders, using his stormy glare to wield in his son's direction every chance he gets instead of his fists. Ptolemus just smirks at him with a mocking salute of his fingers. Instead of makeup, it seems Nero has requested the use of Capitol medicine to clear up his bruises as if they were never there.

Ptolemus just catches some of Caesar Flickerman and Claudius Templesmith's commentary. "And look at that! Ptolemus Pierce as the God of War. With a temper like the one we saw at The Reaping, I suppose it's quite fitting!"

"These Games will be interesting to say the least, Claudius. Not just one pair of star-crossed lovers vying to save each other in the Arena, but two!"

His cohost nods in agreement, and Caesar jumps, pointing at the embers burning at the end of the line. "Oh there they are! District Twelve — the Capitol favorites!"

Claudius doesn't seem so convinced. "Well..."

"Or one of my favorites, should I say." His cohost giggles into agreement with him, nodding vehemently. "How will the people ever choose who to root for?" Caesar groans. He raises his hands in the air with a manic smile. "I can't possibly decide!"

Neither of his parents nor Enobaria say a word when Ptolemus slams the door behind him to leave for Sage's floor, a bag for the night tucked under his arm. Perhaps they all know it's useless convincing him otherwise anyway.

When he knocks on their door, Philo answers it, bottom lip quivering at the mere sight of him. He sputters and blubbers as he barely stifles a wail. "Oh, Ptolemus! So— so wonderful to see you!"

He nods, patting the man on the shoulder lightly in greeting. Philo blows into his handkerchief, and Ptolemus ducks around him to stride into Ten's apartment. Shep is napping on the couch, and Barrow is sculpting his wood carving again, grunting and mumbling to himself. His nurse waits nearby. The man glances up at Ptolemus's entrance, narrowing his eyes silently, before eventually returning to his work.

"She's in her room," Shep mumbles, peeking one eye open from his nap. He's not even sure if he was sleeping to begin with, perhaps just trying to.

"Thanks."

He finds her right where they said he would, knocking on the door lightly. No light creeps out from beneath the sliver. She calls to him in response. "Come in."

Sage is sitting quietly on the edge of her bed in the dark, staring at the wall, remote in hand. The scenery she's chosen to gaze at resembles a painting out of Ten, the red canyons towering around the grasses and meadows that blow in a breeze as soft as a whisper. A herd of wild horses graze beneath a starry indigo sky. When you listen closely, you can hear the faint chirping of crickets.

She finally turns to face him, all the dark makeup washed from her face, the dim light of her room casting shadows across her tired features. She doesn't try to hide the fact she's been crying, a sniffle escaping her and eyes still wet. A corner of her lips tugs upward bittersweetly as she clutches something dangling from her neck.

"Just stargazing. Want to join me?"

Ptolemus nods quietly, lightly dropping his bag beside the nightstand and kicking off his shoes. The mattress creaks and dips at his added weight as he sits beside her, the two of them hip to hip. He studies her quietly, then notes the gold flashing in her grip. She looks lost as she stares at the scenery in front of her, and he follows her gaze, trying to go there with her.

Swords, arrows and Mutts are the least of his worries in that Arena. It's nothing he hasn't gone up against before, and he's older, stronger and wiser than he was when he was sixteen.

The one thing Ptolemus still struggles to protect Sage from no matter his efforts is her own mind.

She surprises him when she intertwines their fingers. He clings back to her, and she props her head onto his shoulder. There's cheers from the crowd echoing beneath them in the streets, so Sage turns up the volume of the crickets.

"I can't believe we're here," Sage murmurs.

Ptolemus's thumb draws a soothing circle along the top of her hand. "Me neither."

"I barely was coping with the idea of reliving it as a Mentor every year... but to be a Tribute again..."

If he weren't so hyperfocused on saving Sage he might allow himself to be just as terrified. The fear and trauma of the Arena looms somewhere in the back of his head, but a curtain shrouds himself from it, unable to truly feel it just yet. Instead, a larger beast made of an even deeper fear and trauma consumes him every time he thinks of Sage in that Arena. Breathes right down his neck, jolting his bones and causing his blood to run hot. It's even stronger and greater than adrenaline.

"Let's get some sleep," he murmurs gently, shifting his focus and kissing her temple. "We've got Training in the morning."

"Hm. Training," she scoffs bitterly.

Nevertheless, she takes his advice, crawling backward along the bed up to where the pillows are. As much as she hates the idea of being a Tribute again, she does need to take this seriously. Brush up her hatchet skills, maybe learn some combat so that she can do more than just throw the damn thing, and of course there's the other survival skills. Fire starting, snares, fish hooks, identifying edible plants.

Sage has to last long enough in the Games to ensure she keeps up her end of the bargain. She does her part, and they'll do theirs, saving Tolly, Shep and her family.

She just has to keep them all alive by Midnight of the second day. The task sounds feasible and daunting all at the same time.

He trails after her, tucking them both under the covers. Sage doesn't turn off the picture in front of them. Instead, she just places the remote on her nightstand, holding his hand again. Above them, the picture casts onto the ceiling as well, swirling clouds and an ivory moon like a pearl beaming down at them. It's almost like home.

Both of them peer up at the artificial constellations and pretend the best they can. His eyes draw themselves back to the gold around her neck, and it reminds him of his own tucked beneath his shirt. The other half of his token waits on his dresser back in Two's apartment. He gently reaches out to touch the locket, tracing the engraving of the Navarro family's vow and the different colored crystals with his thumb. He sees an emerald on there for her birthstone.

Sage smiles lightly and runs her fingers across his buzzed hair again. It's still taking some getting used to. "My token." She quirks a dark brow. "Do you like it?"

"It's beautiful. Any pictures inside?"

She nods, gently pushing his thumb away with her own to pop the latch. It clicks open softly, and he tries to make out the pictures in the dim lighting. One he recognizes immediately because he remembers taking it himself in her family's barn. It was only a year and a half ago, but he can't help but think how much younger they look. Not as much trauma aging them yet.

"The original photograph was too large to put in here, so I had to ask Philo to make a smaller copy that would fit. He promised not to tell anyone about our secret picture. Normally I wouldn't trust it, but I think he feels guilty given the circumstances, so..."

His gaze darts to the other picture on the other half. It's of her family, all of them crammed into a picture in front of the barn. Mostly everyone is smiling nicely besides Sage and Colt, the two clearly bickering and teasing each other just as the photograph was taken. He's ruffling her hair into her face, and she's swatting at him with his own hat. It makes Ptolemus chuckle softly.

"We took that after I got home from the Games," Sage explains. "They wanted a picture of us reunited for the paper."

There's nothing sad in her voice, just matter-of-fact. Ptolemus tries not to ask Sage about Colt. He knows it's no use — she never wants to talk about it. Just that it was an unfortunate accident, her brother falling off his horse and hitting his head on a rock. There's something about the way she recited it all that whispers to him she doesn't believe that story, and because of that, he's not so sure he does either. She never elaborates more though, simply shutting down again. So he doesn't press it, only holding her when she's willing to cry about it in front of him.

Ptolemus has heard the whispers of angry Districts, and he remembers what Colt said to him about being angry himself. Sometimes he wishes he were born to a different District so he could finally confirm whether the murmurs are real or not. Two shows no signs of being angry or hurt — just look at how they acted at the Reaping. It's like a neat little bubble with everyone oblivious inside.

Whatever's happening in Eight and other Districts, it still isn't enough to stop these Games. So Ptolemus is going to do the one thing he knows he can do, and that's to save the love of his life.

"What's your token?" Sage asks, interrupting his thoughts.

A corner of his lips tug upward coyly, and he brushes her dark hair out of her eyes. "Can't tell you. It's a secret."

That catches her off guard, and she blinks at him dumbly. She raises her brows curiously as a bewildered grin ghosts her lips. "A secret?"

"Mhm."

She smiles incredulously, that dimple in her chin showing. "Well now I want to know what it is even more." Her restless and curious mind is already ticking again.

Ptolemus leans forward, kissing her lips briefly, then her forehead. Hopefully something to subdue that wild curiousity of hers. Like it would ever be that simple. He tucks her into his arms and closes his eyes, lips tugging upward smugly. "You'll just have to wait and see."

She watches him silently in the dark as the crickets chirp. He shows no sign of adding anymore, lips tightly sealed, so she sighs and closes her eyes too.

After a minute, she peeks her eyes open at him one more time, but his face is softening the way it does when he's asleep. An impatient huff, and she kisses his cheek before burrowing into his rising chest. She counts the beats like one would count sheep. Given her own habit of keeping secrets these days, she supposes she'll allow him this one.

Both of them try to get some rest for their big days ahead, but it isn't easy, even in the safe arms of your lover. Not when both of them are tucking their own secrets so close to their chests.

━━━━

»»————-　♡　————-««

Thank you for reading and hope you enjoyed!!! Feel free to comment, I love hearing from you!!!

Ahhhhh I still can't believe we're actually doing the Quell rn. I've spent months planning it and now I finally get to write it! Favorite parts/predictions/worries and thoughts??

Any ideas on Ptolemus's token/secret? Writing his and Sage's interactions with Finnick are so fun.

In the book the victors were to be rescued the third day, but in the movies it was the second! They pretty much did nothing on the third day in the arena other than get ready for their plan so for the sake of some things I have planned I'm going to do the two days like in the movie!

Lol also in the book Katniss says district ten is dressed like cows with flaming belts to imitate Cinna and she calls it pathetic 😂 Ugh how I wish the movies captured how funny Peeta and Katniss actually were, as well as their romance so much better. There were so many little moments that would've helped with the story.

Speaking of, please let me know what you think of Sage and Ptolemus's characters. I always worry one is more interesting than the other or the other's dialogue is bland. My toxic trait is that if I don't make a character overly snarky like some of the characters I've written in the past *cough cough kendall argent* i'm afraid they're boring. Like is Sage cool? Is Ptolemus cool???? Sorry I'm having a crisis rn please validate me lol <3

Also, this is what I imagined for Ptolemus's top during the parade. Sage's is pretty straight forward with the nude sparkly bodysuit and massive black coat like the one Sofia is wearing in this picture except a little less puffy around the collar:

Also here are a few more incorrect quotes I made! Next up is training :) chapters may be shorter than my average 8k because the quell is so much shorter in the book than I realized but yeah.

Word Count: 6795