truth runs wild | {mercy/mccree} blitz

A lifetime in District Two, and I had somehow managed to avoid becoming a mindless robot, my humanity lost to knives and swords and my heart pledged to a contest that killed. I learned the techniques, learned the basics. Learned what would have kept me alive if it ever happened, but mostly, I stayed in the non-violent stations, stitching up the idiots who tried too hard.

Now, I didn't have a choice. One year left, and I wouldn't have ever had to look at a Center again. One year, and I could have grown up with a heartbeat and a pulse that were my own. And now, it was a requirement for my training as a peacekeeper.

I told myself this was different, because this was for helping people. But I was too gray in a world of black and white, and I knew that from the beginning. Things couldn't have always been either, or. People couldn't always be guilty or innocent.

Second chances couldn't just be taken or ignored.

I ran at a more-than-decent pace, treadmill burning below me, Jessie Mccree to my three,(which meant "right." I was totally paying attention.) He lifted weights, occasionally groaning, muscular arms glistening with sweat.

Gross. But kind of not gross.

(I had only taken a few peaks, so.)

When the timer rang out, we both stopped.

"7 miles in an hour. I'm getting better!" It was certainly better than the 2.5 that I had started with. After jumping with excitement, and certainly not thinking, I kissed the boy on the cheek. It was meant to be innocent, but I couldn't stop myself from blushing afterward. To keep things from being awkward, I pushed the boy in the chest.

"And how 'bout you?" I said, playful tone. "Didn't look like you were lifting that much," I smiled, labored breathing.

"Not falling behind, are we?"