When Luck Runs Out

Trust But Verify

"Sherlock!" cried a voice, but I was so much in shock that I couldn't process it was John until he wrapped his protective arms around me, steering my eyes away from the bloody body, leading me out of the smoky, blood soaked crime scene.
"It's alright Sherlock, it's alright." John insisted.
"She was injured, she was helpless..." I muttered.
"She's in a better place." John pointed out.
"He killed her, just like that." I whispered, as if I didn't want Greg to hear me talking about him behind him back.
"It's what's necessary. If you want to get out of here alive, you need to make sacrifices, and we both know that one woman's life is a horrible price to pay, but it's what needs to be done." John insisted.
"You're on Greg's side?" I asked, scandalized.
"I'm on the logical side, the side that gets you out of here, safely." John insisted.
"She was married, she had a family." I muttered.
"Snap out of it pip squeak, she's got some food, unless you're too righteous to take from the dead person." Jeanette insisted, holding up a stale looking loaf of bread. I took a deep breath, but walked back into the room, making myself not look at the wall, where I knew full well there was a dead body, waiting for the hovercraft to come collect her corpse, so that her family could mourn for the wife and mother they had just lost to Greg's hand. Greg, on the other hand, was looking fairly unfazed, munching on an end of the loaf, and trying to extinguish the fire, so that our location wouldn't be given up as obviously as hers was.
"You okay Sherlock?" he asked, waking at a little flame that was burning in the arm.
"No, of course I'm not okay." I snapped, daring a look over to the body. The woman was now slumped over unnaturally, her eyes staring right where we stood, as if she were cursing us, watching as we took what she had tried so hard to earn.
"It's what she would've done if she had found us." John insisted, patting my shoulder comfortingly and going to help Greg beat out the flames. In that moment I felt like I didn't know John at all. Only this morning was I watching over him, praising him for being so innocent, so caring, willing to put anyone's life over his own. And now I was watching him blink away the death of an innocent lady, sympathize with her murderer, and leave me to grieve alone. I went over to the body and closed her eyes, at least she would look dead when the hovercraft came to pick her up, but I still felt horribly guilty. So I spread out her body, so that she wasn't crunched up helpless in the corner, folded her arm (the one that wasn't pudding) over her chest, and put the bloody dagger next to her, as a weapon or defense in the afterlife.
"Oh would you stop being all sentimental, are you hungry or not?" Greg aske, waving a bit of the bread in the air.
"God no." I insisted, feeling like if I ate a bite of food that I would throw up.
"Suit yourself." Greg shrugged, tearing off a chunk of bread animal like.
"You really feel nothing?" I asked, looking at his sword, which was covered in blood, lying next to the door.
"I feel a sense of accomplishment." He insisted.
"You're heartless." I decided.
"I'm a realist Mr. Holmes, and I accept that in order to win that crown, in order to get out alive, she has to die, and I have to eat. So she's dead, and I get some bread." Greg shrugged. I couldn't even respond to that, I felt like I was going to be sick, so in an instant I ran out of the door, across the street and into our mall safe haven, running up the escalators and collapsing against a wall, hugging my legs to my chest and fighting tooth and nail not to cry. Greg was a maniac, maybe as much of a lunatic as Moran or Moriarty, he wouldn't stop killing until he was Victor, he would kill me, kill John, turn his blade on Jeanette as soon as she was the last alive. The dream of him betraying us for power seemed all too likely right now. What wouldn't Greg do to get out of here? What was he even fighting for, he said it himself, he doesn't have anyone to love, so what was his horrible driving force for such an act? Or did he as well miss killing, did he enjoy sticking humans with his blade, watching the blood drain from their veins, watch the light leave their eyes? Was he a psychopath like all the rest? I shivered with the thought, that I had slept peacefully within ten feet of someone who would stick me like a pig and barbecue the flesh off of my bones. The darkness didn't seem so inviting now, on the contrary, I was terrified. I was alone in this mall, but even worse, I had left John there, John with Greg and Jeanette, they'd gang up on him, I wasn't there to help protect him, they could be torturing him right now... Forgetting my fear and my nerves, I grabbed my sword, sprinting down the escalator and out into the sunlight, where the three were just leaving the building, their arms filled with the dead girl's things, smiles on their faces. I grabbed John by the arm, causing the water and the backpack he was carrying to slip out of his hands.
"Sherlock, what the..." he started, but I pushed him behind me, holding up my sword level with Greg's neck.
"Give me your sword." I demanded, holding John with a grip of iron. My heart was racing out of my chest, I knew that if Greg didn't cooperate and decided to fight me, I'd be dead in a minute.
"Think about what you're doing here Sherlock." He insisted.
"Give me your sword, and then I'll think. And Jeanette, your bow." I demanded. Greg let out a sigh of annoyance, but dropped his weapon. I kicked it over to where I stood, still holding tight to John, who was standing there rather exasperated. None of them seemed to be taking this as seriously as I was, they seemed to think it was some sort of joke.
"What's got you all in a knot?" Jeanette asked, kicking over the bow and crossing her arms with annoyance.
"Sherlock let go of me." John insisted.
"No, they're psychopaths, they'll kill us both." I debated.
"Sherlock you're being paranoid, we're allies, remember." Jeanette pointed out.
"You'll betray us the first chance you get." I snapped.
"No offense mate, but I'm not the one holding the sword." Greg pointed out.
"Hands behind your head." I insisted.
"What is this, an execution?" Jeanette sighed. They could take me easily, but obviously they felt the need to amuse me, so they did as I said.
"We're not going to betray you, we were coming back, we're giving you the protection and the supplies you and your little boyfriend need to survive." Greg insisted.
"You'll kill us." I pointed out.
"And when the time comes, you won't try to kill us? We'll have to fight in the end, you and John will have to fight for God sakes, there's only one victor. But for now, we can join forces to make sure that Victor doesn't come from District one, two, or three." Greg insisted.
"I could kill you right here." I pointed out.
"And then Jeanette would slit your throat." Greg sighed.
"Not if I slit hers first." I insisted.
"Sherlock stop, just stop! You're being stupid." John insisted, wrestling my hand off of his arm, but not going over to join their side. He stayed where he was, but didn't raise his weapon. This was obviously the distraction Greg needed, because in a blink of an eye he swooped under my sword, twisting the blade out of my hand and throwing it into the road, twenty feet from me with a loud clatter.
"There we are, peaceful negotiations." He decided. I took three steps back, my face draining of color. How long would it take him to strangle me with his bare hands, or to snap my neck?
"Get away from me." I hissed, stumbling back as Greg stood there, unamused. 
"Sherlock would you stop!" John yelled, his exasperated voice echoing off of the buildings.
"It's for your protection." I insisted.
"No, it's stupid. They are allies, they saved us plenty of times, we're working together, you know that, so shut up and except that they aren't going to kill us." John growled.
"Sherlock, we're your friends, we've known that since training." Jeanette insisted.
"I'm not a psychopath." Greg repeated. I relaxed just a little bit, some realization dawning on me. They had obeyed to my commands, even though they knew they could kill me in ten seconds if they had wanted to. They had given up their weapons, wanted peace, and I had been a complete idiot.
"Oh God, I'm so sorry..." I muttered, stepping back a couple of more paces in defeat.
"There he is." Jeanette decided, dropping her hands from behind her head and collecting the supplies she had dropped.
"Now the bread has got dirt on it." Greg complained. The rest of the day I spent in shame, sitting by myself on the edge of the rooftop, my feet dangling off of the edge, the only thing keeping me from a very messy fate was my own will to keep myself on the ledge. The sun had evaporated most of the water, and the roof was now a lot drier than it had been previously, so John and the rest were pitching the tents back up. I was still worried about Greg and Jeanette, but now that I had made a big, dramatic scene, I was too embarrassed to raise my concerns with John. He'd undoubtedly laugh at me, because why would you trust the word of the lunatic that thought their allies were about to kill them? I admit, I was being a little bit overdramatic, maybe it was shock about what Greg had just done, or fear about what he still might do, but there was no doubt in my mind that one of the swords I would have to fend off would be Greg's, but just when that would be was yet to be determined.
"Sherlock, you okay?" John asked, coming to the balcony and sitting down next to me.
"I'm fine." I lied.
"Quite a scene you made back there." John muttered, poking at my fingers with his own.
"I'm sorry, I was an idiot." I admitted.
"You were worried about me, and I appreciate that, but you've got to understand that Greg and Jeanette, they're good people, I'm sure half of the people in here are good people. We've just been pushed to our max, some come out on top, others fall prey to the grief, to the madness, and sometimes good people to bad things. But those bad things are necessary for their survival, and that doesn't necessarily mean that they're bad people. Just think about what you'd do to protect me." John pointed out.
"Anything, everything." I insisted.
"Yes, and that includes killing someone, right?" John asked.
"Without a second thought." I agreed.
"Well, that's still murder, that's barbaric in someone's mind. But by taking that one life you'll be assuring that I live, and you know, in your heart, that it's the right thing to do. Death is a necessary property of life, whether it be your own, or a stranger, or someone close to you. Death puts a cost on life, without death; there would be no point in living." John insisted, interlocking our fingers and giving my hand a reassuring squeeze. I sighed, he was right, of course. He was always right; somehow his little speeches gave me more hope than anyone else could. He reminded me why I was here, why I was fighting; he took the problems of my life and made them relevant to the solutions of my love.
"I'm sorry." I muttered.
"It's alright Sherlock. I forgive you, and I know they forgive you as well. But don't mind me saying, I think they find you a little bit amusing." John admitted with a little laugh, and I smiled half-heartedly.
"Well, you know I was doing it for you." I insisted.
"I certainly do know that." John agreed.
"And there's nothing I would ever deny you, nothing I wouldn't do to ensure your safety." I pointed out.
"Certainly, nor I for you." John agreed.
"So, if it comes to that, you'll let me die?" I pleaded.
"Never in my wildest dreams." He assured with a little laugh, planting a quick, teasing kiss on my lips before hoping off of the ledge into the gravel and helping Greg put up the rest of the chairs. I sighed, but got to my feet as well and went to help Jeanette stack the firewood.
"Not going to attack me with that, are you?" she asked I lifted a large piece of wood into a small circle in the middle of the chairs.
"Oh let it go, I already said I was sorry." I insisted.
"I know. I think it's funny, how much you're willing to sacrifice to ensure John's safety. One day I hope someone loves me that much." Jeanette insisted.
"I'm sure they will." I assured. Jeanette just laughed.
"Who am I kidding; I'm never getting out of this arena." She insisted.
"Now that's just quitter talk." I insisted.
"It's realist talk Sherlock. Not only am I up against the District Three Tributes, I'm up against you and John, fighting on pure love power, and then Greg, who could most certainly take me out with one stroke of his sword." Jeanette insisted.
"You think Greg will win?" I asked.
"The odds are in his favor." She shrugged.
"Well, until the time comes when we can get our crack at three, we'll all stick together, right?" I asked.
"I will if you will." Jeanette agreed. I smiled and nodded, liking it much better that I had Jeanette's word. Now all that was left was Greg, the shadiest of the bunch, in my opinion.
"So, what now?" I asked when camp was set back up. The sun had sunken, and we were sitting in the lawn chairs, eating a little bit of a dinner and sipping at the water.
"Well, we could sing campfire songs and roast marshmallows, but then again we'll be sending a smoke signal and making enough noise for the next district to hear us." Greg sighed, reclining in his chair and looking up at the sky.
"Stars are pretty tonight." He decided.
"They're fake, remember?" I asked, but I looked up as well, unable to avoid the temptation. They were indeed pretty, but I knew they were no more than the Capital's projections of the real night sky.
"Always the optimist I see." Greg sighed.
"Ah, well, you know me." I insisted.
"Unfortunately I do." He agreed.
"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked with a laugh.
"I don't know, interpret it how you like." He shrugged.
"Alright then." I shrugged.
"So, everything's cool between us all, right?" Jeanette asked.
"Cool with me." John agreed.
"Not necessarily the one I was worried with. I just don't want to wake up with a slit throat." Jeanette shrugged.
"I don't think you'll ever have to worry about that." Greg assured.
"You know what I mean." She snapped.
"We're cool. I was overreacting, I was paranoid, I was all worked up over the death of that girl that I didn't have time to think about what really happened. You only did it because you knew what was necessary, and I was too clouded in feelings and moral principles." I admitted.
"That you were." Greg agreed.
"You're not supposed to agree with me." I snapped.
"But it's true!" Greg debated, raising his arms up in defense and looking quite scandalized.
"Oh come on, let's all get along, we were doing such a great job." John insisted.
"Well, I'm just saying I'm sorry, and you'll never hear that again, so be happy." I pointed out.
"Alright then, I accept your apology. Forgive and forget, that's my motto." Greg shrugged.
"I thought your motto was eat, drink, and don't give a crap?" Jeanette asked.
"That's my other motto. I have a lot." Greg shrugged. I just laughed, and for a moment it felt like all was forgiven. For a moment.
"Well then, I'm beat. It's been quite a day." Jeanette shrugged.
"I agree." John decided, getting to his feet and stretching out his arms, letting lose a loud yawn that I was sure would give away our position.
"Do you think the hovercraft has gotten her yet?" I asked, peering over the roof to see if there had been some sort of disturbance to the building.
"We would've heard it, don't you think?" John asked.
"I don't know." I shrugged.
"How could they fit a hovercraft in there? I'm sure they send peacekeepers in there to collect them, when everyone is asleep." Greg guessed.
"Or they leave the bodies there to scare us." Jeanette said.
"I found this one body the first day." I pointed out.
"Probably someone from a cornucopia, stumbled out, and then bled out." Greg suggested.
"On that happy note..." Jeanette sighed, unzipping their tent and disappearing inside.
"Good night all!" she called.
"Good night." John agreed. I didn't say anything; I just nodded my farewell and got into my tent as well, burrowing underneath my blanket and wanting more than anything for John to join me. When he finally did he zipped the tent back up, lighting the oil lamp and curling under the blanket with me.
"You're alright now?" he asked in a soothing voice, like a mother talking to a baby.
"I'm fine." I assured.
"You better be fine Sherlock, I need you." He insisted, wrapping his arms around my neck and pressing our foreheads together. "I need you more than anything."
"You know I did that all for you? I realized that I had left you with them; I couldn't get down there fast enough. That was the first time I thought you were in immediate danger, and I thought I was responsible. I thought I had left you to die." I muttered.
"I'm fine Sherlock, it all worked out." John assured.
"Ya, it worked out this time, but what about the time after that? What happens when I can't get down fast enough, what happens if it's Moran and Moriarty, not Greg and Jeanette?" I asked.
"I can take care of myself." John insisted.
"I need to take care of you as well. You need to let me take care of you." I muttered.
"I will Sherlock, I will." He insisted.
"If things had been different, if the quarter quell hadn't happened, I would've married you John. I would've lived with you and loved you for the rest of my life." I insisted.
"You still have the rest of your life." John pointed out.
"Not with you." I insisted.
"You have the rest of my life to spend with me." John pointed out.
"You're not going to die, not today, not tomorrow, not ever." I demanded.
"Are you saying I'm immortal?" John asked with a laugh.
"You should be. You deserve to be. Even Death shouldn't be able to take such a kind, such a gentle, loving, beautiful man from this earth. You're a blessing John, you truly are." I insisted.
"Now how am I supposed to top that, huh?" John asked with a laugh.
"You're not supposed to." I insisted, pulling his face closer to mine and pressing a long, loving kiss onto his lips. "You're not supposed to do anything."
"YOU KNOW THESE TENTS AREN'T SOUND PROOF, RIGHT?" called Greg from his tent. I immediately turned a horrible shade of red, but John just laughed.
"Keep your ears in your own then!" John called back.
"I'm sure trying to!" Greg laughed. John just rolled his eyes, and I rolled back over to my spot on the makeshift bed, our little moment ruined by Greg and his stupidity.
"Well, that's just great." I mumbled.
"Oh don't let him get to you." John laughed, snuggling up to me and putting a protective arm around my shoulders.
"Good night Sherlock." He decided.
"Good night John." I agreed.