Why Do I Do This [Complete]

Duke

It had been a month since Duke had left Amira at the hospital. In the weeks following, he'd thought about her often, thought about whether it really had been a good idea to dump her in the first place. After all, it had all been in the heat of the moment, only hours after he'd killed Mr. Shipiro. Obviously, neither of them had been thinking straight, and Duke often wondered if maybe they'd still be together if her father wasn't dead. In fact, there had been several occasions when Duke found himself wishing that he wasn't dead. Of course, Amira would be in constant pain from his frequent beatings, always scared he was going to hurt her, but hey, it was what had brought them closer in the first place hadn't it? Duke had been rather surprised that Amira hadn't come crawling back to him yet. He'd given her plenty of time, allowing her time to think about their relationship, but still she'd avoided him. Eventually, Duke had been forced to give up all wishful thinking. Amira wasn't coming back, and he'd just have to move on. He'd left her for this, hadn't he? So it had been with that attitude that Duke had thrown himself into his training.

After Duke had told his parents he killed a man, they were even more impressed with his progress in becoming a career, and had willingly forked out more and more money, paying for longer training sessions with a personal trainer, and better equipment and weapons. Duke had never expected his parents to be so enthusiastic in finding out their son was a murderer. His mother especially. Out of the two, she'd never been one to associate herself with him, and always tried to avoid her son. Ever since Mr. Shipiro's murder, Duke realized she was going out of her way to do things for him. Was she afraid he'd kill her too? He was obviously a potential threat, now that he'd actually taken down one of the greatest careers of all time. He wouldn't have been surprised at all if his mother did fear him. After all, killing her was as easy as swinging a sword. And swords were something Duke had plenty of.

Duke glanced down at the one he was holding now. His reflection in the smooth, shining steel stared back at him. It was the same face Mr. Shipiro had seen last. Duke smiled at the memory. Murderer was, as disturbing as it may be, a title Duke had come to like over the course of the month. It made him feel powerful, like he could face anything, and still come out unscathed. Thinking about the actual moment of the murder always gave Duke an adrenaline rush. The look of fear in Mr. Shipiro's eyes, the smell of blood, the knife in his hand. All of it. It was with this adrenaline coursing though his veins that Duke swung the sword, and and one smooth motion, cleaved the training dummy in two. He stood back and examined his handiwork. An instant kill. That had been his fifth of the day. Duke had been at the training centre for several hours now, working on his hand to hand combat. It had gone extremely well, and after that last kill, Duke was just about ready to call it a day. Until, he felt a sudden presence at the other end of the centre.

Though he thought he'd been alone this entire time, Duke knew it was likely someone else had come in. He'd been so preoccupied with his training that he hadn't been paying attention to much else. Turning, Duke found himself alone with the unthinkable. Amira Shipiro. What the hell was she doing here? She should be at home in bed. She nearly died, yet here she was, throwing knife after knife at countless training dummies. There had been a time when he'd once doubled as one of her training dummies. She could have easily killed him, but he'd been far too fast for her. Smiling to himself at the irony of the situation, Duke wiped his brow, and called out to her, "Hey sweetheart, if you're looking for a real challenge, I believe you owe me a rematch." This time, he'd tear her to pieces. There was no way Amira was winning this fight. It was him or her, and secretly, Duke had a feeling that if they fought, only one of them would be leaving the training centre that night. Alive.

Duke

Amira certainly looked surprised. Duke could sense it in the way she responded. There was no way she'd ever expected him to challenge her, let alone even be here with her in the Training Centre. Part of him wished they weren't. Maybe if they had manged to avoid one another then this ridiculous want to fight her wouldn't have arisen, and they could have continued on with their now separate lives. But of course, fate was a cruel, cruel thing. Out of all the different careers that resided in District One, the actual chances of him being alone with Amira weren't high. In fact, if he'd had to bet on it, Duke would have counted Amira down and out for the count; in bed healing. Her stomach had been slashed pretty bad, and there was no way in hell it could be fully healed in a month. That just wasn't humanly possible.

He watched her toss up her knife and catch it. Obviously, Amira's brush with death hadn't tainted her knack at throwing knives. She was still as good as ever. Duke dared to look past her and count the training dummies behind her. How many kills had that been? Knowing Amira it would be a vast majority. She was absolutely ruthless, and Duke knew that this time, she wasn't going to go easy on him. There would be a dull knife to be found. All her's were freshly sharpened, no doubt, and were just waiting to meet their mark. Him.

But, that didn't mean much to Duke. He had a weapon too, and was just as capable at killing as Amira. Maybe even more so. After all, it had been him who had killed Mr. Shipiro. He'd done with Amira couldn't for sixteen years. That really said something. She on the other hand, had no kills to date. Although he was feeling confident, Duke couldn't help but listen to the nagging voice in the back of his mind. That first kill could be him. All it took was one fight. One blow, and of course, one reason to want your victim dead. Amira had that. Duke had handed it to her her himself a month ago in that hospital. He'd left her when she had needed him the most and Duke could tell that she was never going to let that go.

When she spoke again, Duke felt an overwhelming sense of guilt. Would she ever really think that he would want to kill her? Of course she would. When he'd chosen training for the Hunger Games over her, that automatically made him someone who would wish death upon others. Really, that was what he wanted. It just sounded absolutely terrible. The thing was, Duke liked being known as a murderer. Mr. Shipiro's murderer. The fact that the man he'd killed had assisted in giving Amira life made it even more strange. In a way, he was still here, only in Amira's form. She wanted him dead, and when she locked her eyes with his, Duke knew that she wasn't going to stop trying. Not until she herself was dead. But besides hatred, there was something else there too. Duke couldn't quite pinpoint it, but he knew the same look could probably be found in his own eyes. Some form of regret, remorse. Or perhaps something else entirely. Somewhere, Duke still loved Amira. At least, that was what that stupid nagging voice was telling him.

"Want you dead?" Duke asked, swinging his sword around a bit. "Nah, it's just something to do." He paused briefly, to glance back up at Amira and flash a smile. "Unless you want me dead. That can't happen. So if that's the case, then yeah, I guess I want you dead." He watched as she stepped back a few metres. Oh yeah, she was gonna throw that knife. But Duke was going to be ready. Though it seemed terribly unlikely, Duke really wasn't sure if Amira really was fighting to kill. This could just as easily be her playing mind games with him. But that was certainly a game two could play. He'd have to be on his toes, and anticipate the fact that Amira would easily be able to get in his head. If she'd done it before, then it could certainly be done again.

"Well I could call you Amira I suppose," Duke retorted. "But I've started making it a point not to get personal with anyone I fight. I guess you sort of flew under the radar on that one didn't you?" Duke tightened his grip on his sword. Any time now. This would all start and finish anytime now. All Duke had to do now was kill for time. "But if you'd rather, we could come up with something else. What about babe? Do you like that? Or maybe love? Oh, how about dear? I'm partial to babe myself, but this isn't really about me. What do you like, sweetheart?" Ooh yeah, hopefully that would piss her off enough to attack first. If she attacked first, Duke would be able to see what he was up against. Plus, if he was going to die, he wanted it to happen quickly. After all, Amira had more to live for.

Duke

Although he'd thought she would have wanted to get right to fighting, kill him right off the bat, Amira started speaking again. Duke pretended to be preoccupied with the hilt of his sword instead of listening, but of course he was hanging on her every word. He just couldn't bear giving her the satisfaction of knowing he was interested in what she was saying. From what Duke could tell, what Amira was saying about him wanting to kill her was honestly how she felt. She actually thought that he would do something like that. Pausing to think about that for a minute, Duke realized, with a sinking feeling, that she was probably right. Killing someone else, anyone else, would feel fantastic. He could just picture running his sword clean through Amira's body, her bloodcurdling scream, and of course, the blood itself, all crimson and fresh pooling around her as she lay dying on the ground. Duke immediately wiped that thought from his mind. God, what was wrong with him? How disgusting did ones mind have to be to picture that sort of thing? Easy. You needed to be a career, and have some sort of raw determination. He and Amira both had that. That meant this was going to be one hell of a fight.

As he was considering all this, Duke forgot that Amira was standing a mere fifteen feet away, armed to the teeth and a vengeance. He should have seen it coming when she finally decided to start the fight. Before he even had time to think, Amira's first knife had clipped his left arm. Grimacing, he gripped his sword tighter, still holding his ground, waiting for her to come closer. How did this happen, that he had already shred blood? After all that training, and it had been Amira who had inflicted the first wound. Who the hell did she think she was? It was war now. Now, he was in a fight for his life, opposed to the game of wit he'd originally thought Amira was playing with him. But maybe that window hadn't yet closed. To Duke's surprise, she started rambling on again. "Do you think I loved you?" Duke asked, taking a swipe at Amira's torso with his sword. "I know exactly what I did and said to you. Maybe," He paused to dodge several of the knives Amira hurled in his direction. The last one he managed to catch, and launched back at her, aiming for her left eye. An instant kill. "Maybe I did love you. But you're such a hand full Amira, I'm glad I left. I'm glad you're not hanging around me anymore. If you want to die, then fine. I'd be glad to do you a favour."

As he was talking, Duke noticed Amira pause for half a second to brush he hand quickly across her stomach. Duke knew what was there. A dozen or so staples, piecing her together. Amira knew that he was aware of this as well. Was that why she was staying so far away from him? Because she knew that as soon as she got close enough, he was going to target those staples? It made sense, and Duke decided to test his theory. Getting a better grip on his sword, he charged toward her, a determination painted on his face. As he approached her, Amira threw another knife, this one aimed for his forehead. The circumstances of this were far too familiar, and Duke found himself fleetingly reflecting on the time they'd fought in the park. It seemed to long ago now, back when they were on good terms, and Duke had protected Amira from her father. But, those days were gone. Mr. Shipiro was long gone, and they were out for each other's blood. Upon remembering this, it was only then that Duke braved slashing at her arm with his sword. There was no going back now. They were in this until one of them was left standing. If the odds were in his favour, it would be Amira.

Duke

Duke smiled as his sword grazed Amira's arm, drawing blood. There, now they were even, and had both lost some blood. It would be how much that would matter in the end. If they kept on at this pace, this fight would take hours. He took another swipe at Amira's stomach, but before he could make contact, she backed up. Coward. Seeing that she was preoccupied with her knives, Duke took it as an opportunity to re-examine the wound on his arm. It wasn't terribly deep, but was bleeding all the same. Cuts like this were what killed people in the Games. Maybe not right away, but over time if not treated properly, they could easily get infected. Thankfully though, Duke wasn't in the Games. At least, not right now. He glanced back up at Amira. She was still fumbling with one of her knives. In fact, to Duke surprise, she dropped it. Well this was just too easy. As he charged her again, sword raised, Amira did the unthinkable: caught the falling knife, and hurled it in his direction. Having no time to react, Duke could only watch as the knife spun towards him, finally meeting his left shoulder, where it stuck nicely.

It burned like hell, and wasn't a kind of pain Duke was used to. Sure, he'd taken a few hits, lost a bit of blood, but nothing like this. This was a wound entering the Hunger Games scale of injury. Face distorted in pain, Duke forced himself to take the handle of knife, and pull at it, tearing it from his shoulder. The damn thing started gushing blood, and Duke found himself getting rather dizzy. But there was no way in hell Duke was going to let Amira win just like that. Gritting his teeth, Duke took his sword, and swung it at Amira's throwing arm. It made sense after all, if he were to take out her throwing arm, she'd be out of commission, and it would be smooth sailing from there.

"No, nothings wrong," Duke manged to grind out. God, this was harder than he thought trying to appear as if nothing was wrong, and he hadn't been phased by the knife in his shoulder. "I'm just warming up." As he said that, he took another swipe at Amira's stomach. She couldn't protect it forever, and Duke knew that forever, for one of them at least, was fast coming to and end.

Duke

He'd had enough. Duke was done. This fight had gone on long enough, and Duke had grown bored of Amira far more quickly than he'd thought he would have. That knife in the shoulder hadn't done him much good either. Thankfully, it had been his left arm, but still it was gushing blood all the same. Blood that he needed to stay alive. Amira on the otherhand appeared to be far better off from what he could tell. He'd only grazed her arm. Not even her throwing arm either. Some fight this has been. Oh well. At least she was pleased with herself. The look on her face of absolute triumph when the knife had stuck him. Then her words that followed. Those stung even more than the knife had. Why were they doing this? A month ago, he'd have done anything for her. Hell, he'd even killed her father trying to protect, and yet here she was now, trying to kill him. It just didn't make any sense.

Amira threw another knife then. Aimed right for his heart. It was rather predictable, and Duke was easily able to step out of its path. Now she only had two knives left. Obviously, Amira would only throw one of the two, keeping the other one for defensive purposes. But really, odds were in his favour. A sword against a knife would overpower it every time. Plus, he did have her by seventy pounds and seven inches. Duke couldn't help but smile af the memory of him and Amira in the park that day, when they'd first met, first fought, first kissed. It had been a lot of firsts in a single day and for a fleeting second, Duke wished that he hadn't let her, and they could have many, many more firsts together. But that wasn't going to happen. Careers couldn't love. He'd said it himself back in that hospital, and there was no going back on his word now.

Before he could have another overwhelming moment of sentimentality, and do something ridiculous like drop his sword, fall to his knees and beg forgiveness, or declare his undying love for her. Yeah right. Like that was ever going to happen. Raising his sword, Duke rushed Amira again, sword poised to rip over her stomach. That little bit of insight could be the difference between life and death. His life. No more was he going to pity Amira. She didn't care anymore, so why should he? One of them was dying here today, and now, it was going to Amira. There was no question in Duke's mind that was going to be victorious.

Duke

As soon as he'd decided to fight- really fight- Amira, time itself seemed to slow down completely. His entire body was numb as he swung his sword. It connected solidly with something. It wasn't until Duke heard the sickening thud of a body hitting the ground did he know what it was. She didn't cry out. Didn't make a sound. In fact, Duke thought she was dead. He just stood there for a minute, sword still in hand, breathing heavily. His entire body was shaking, and he felt dizzy. What the hell just happened? Was Amira...dead? Duke forced himself to look down at her body. Ghostly pale and blood soaked, Amira lay there, her stomach torn open. It wasn't hard for Duke to guess what he'd hit. Was she dead though? It was unlikely a wound like that would result in an instant kill. Unless he'd hit some vital organ, which was highly improbably, she would probably bleed out in a few minutes and that would be that. But that meant she was probably still alive. Damn.

Hesitantly, Duke lightly kicked Amira's arm with his foot. 'I'll see you in hell...' Oh yeah. She was still here. Duke squat down beside her, resting his hands on the hilt of his sword. "You put up one hell of a fight, I'll give you that." Duke replied. He was surprise that he was so void of emotion. Was this what it was like to be a career? Amira was someone who he'd cared so deeply about, had loved a mere month ago, and here she was, so close to death, and Duke was indifferent. He watched as she dropped the knife she'd be holding. Her last knife. The one that had been destined to take his life. Duke picked it up, and wiped the blade on his shirt, cleaning it of blood. The handle was engraved with Amira's initials. The corner of Duke's mouth quirked up into a smile. "Did your father give you this?" Though he knew she wouldn't answer, somehow it just seemed right to make small talk with Amira as she lay dying. Weird? Hell yes. Was it the right thing though? Duke wasn't sure what the right thing was anymore. In another time, the right thing to do would have been to get Amira help as soon as possible, or at the very least, tried to stop her bleeding somehow. But this was now. Amira was dying, and there was nothing Duke planned to do about it, expect stand by and watch, waiting for the satisfaction her death would give him.

Duke sat there beside her for several minutes of strained silence, occupied only by Amira's slowing, haggard breathing, just watching her. She was suffering, there was no doubt about that. Without even thinking about what he was doing, Duke found himself reaching out to stroke Amira's bloody, mattered hair. For a second at least, everything felt normal. Well, as normal as it had been before they'd gone their separate ways. This scene was far too familiar; one they'd visited before. At the time, Duke had wished for nothing other than for Amira to make it out of the ordeal alive. Now well...now he didn't know what to think. As brushed her hair from her eyes, Duke felt emotions starting to surface that he'd thought he had long since banished. No, he couldn't feel love. That was something Duke Quaidar III was incapable of. Duke Quaidar III was a murderer; a career. Careers couldn't love! He'd said so himself, only a month ago. But if careers can't love, then what was this?'

Before he could rethink his intent, Duke leaned over Amira's body, and pressed his lips firmly to her's. She tasted like blood, a painful reminder that death couldn't be far behind now. All because of him. But that didn't matter right now. Right now his world consisted only of Amira, and Duke just wanted to be with her, kiss her one last time, before she was gone forever. After what seemed like an eternity, Duke pulled back, breaking heavily. They must have been quite a sight the two of them, covered in blood, Amira's so close to death. Death. For the first time since she'd been cut down, Duke felt a sense of regret. He watched as Amira drew a heart in her own blood. Somehow, that action alone confirmed any doubts he had in his feelings for her, and Duke kissed her again, deeper this time. Although it may be too late now, there was no way he was just going to stand by and watch her die now.

'I'm glad of the time we had together...' No. No she couldn't die now. That sounded too much like a goodbye. When she laughed though, almost in a way of mocking herself, as though she'd been so stupid as to trust him. A murderer. No amount of apologizing would ever change that title, nor would it make her forgive him, but Duke was sure going to try and make things right again. As gently as he could, trying to disturb her wounds as little as possible, Duke drew her closer to him. "Listen to me, Amira," Duke said, stroking her hair. "You don't ever have to forgive me for what I did to you. You don't ever have to speak to me again, and I'm not expecting us to ever be the same we were. But I need you to know. I'm not going to let you die here. Maybe once, but not now. Okay? I'm going to go for help. Just...just hang in there. Please. I'm going to help you." As Duke stood, he knew that was one promise he would keep, no matter the consequence. Whether the peacemakers lock him up forever, avox him or even kill him, Duke was going to get Amira help. She was going to live. Duke would make sure of it.