Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Greetings to the final contestants of the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games. The earlier revision has been revoked. Closer examination of the rule book has disclosed that only one winner may be allowed. Good luck and may the odds be ever in your favor."

Sitting in Mentor Control, Haymitch had known in his heart it was coming. It was too perfect, too poetic to deny the Capitol audience the perverted pleasure of children bleeding and dying, forcing even these lovers to turn on each other in the end. The Capitol would not be denied its sport. But it still hurt to hear those words, to see his kids' expressions as Claudius Templesmith's voice snatched back that reprieve, that promise.

He felt Chaff's hand on one shoulder, Seeder's on the other. They'd stayed close to him after Rue died, then remained even after Thresh was gone. They hadn't said, but they had reached the same conclusion as Haymitch well before Cato's death: even the love story would not be enough to convince the Capitol to spare two lives.

In the arena, Katniss and Peeta stared at each other in shock, in disbelief as the words sank in. Peeta wrapped his mind around it first. "If you think about it, it's not that surprising," he said softly, getting to his feet. Then he pulled the knife from his belt.

Katniss panicked and nocked an arrow, aiming straight for his heart, but Peeta tossed the knife into the lake with a wry raise of his eyebrows.

Katniss dropped her weapons, shamefaced. Peeta picked them up and thrust them back into her hands. "No. Do it."

Of course. You were always too good for the Hunger Games.

"I can't," she said. "I won't."

"Do it. Before they send those mutts back or something. I don't want to die like Cato." He couched it as if he was asking for a simple favor, but she knew better.

"Then you shoot me! You shoot me and go home and live with it!" Maybe Haymitch was too hard on Katniss. The desire to die in the arena was selfish, and she freely acknowledged that, whereas Peeta was too wrapped up in his feelings to recognize what kind of life he'd be condemning her to.

"You know I can't. Fine, I'll go first anyway." Peeta tore the bandage from his leg, letting the blood flow free.

Katniss scrabbled to replace it. "No, you can't kill yourself!"

"Katniss, it's what I want."

"You're not leaving me here alone!"

"Listen, we both know they have to have a victor. It can only be one of us. Please, take it, for me." He went on to profess his love and what it would mean to go on without her, but Katniss was no longer listening.

Peeta fell, trying to get away, and they scuffled. Hardly the dramatic, violent confrontation the Capitol loved, but Haymitch could imagine the cheers on the streets just the same.

Katniss's face spoke when her voice couldn't of the betrayal, the panic. Haymitch could almost see the desperate thoughts racing through her mind behind gray Seam eyes, seeking a way out. But yet again, Peeta Mellark was ahead of her.

Peeta pulled the plastic pouch from her belt, Finnick Odair hissed somewhere behind Haymitch, and again, Haymitch knew what was coming.

He almost looked away. For twenty-four years, the screens in Mentor Control had delivered so much agony. But he watched. If only so Katniss wouldn't bear this memory alone.

Katniss was still struggling with the bandage on Peeta's leg as Peeta pulled a handful of berries free and threw the pouch with the rest over Katniss's head into the lake. She turned in confusion, not recognizing the thing, and that one distraction cost her everything.

Peeta had swallowed them by the time she looked back.

"Peeta, what - "

The boy stopped struggling, and the triumph and relief in his eyes told her everything. Her scream tore through Mentor Control to join the litany of horror that would come to Haymitch again every night until the day he died. On the edges of his blurry vision, he saw other mentors react: flinching, closing their eyes, gazing at him in sympathy.

Peeta must have swallowed most of the berries whole. It took about thirty seconds for them to act. His hand cupped her cheek, and he breathed, oblivious to her agonized sobs, "I love you, Katniss Everdeen. Always. I swear it wasn't an act. Go home to them. I love - "

A startled gasp, and it was over.

"No, Peeta! Don't - no - PEETA!"

Cannon.

Haymitch staggered to his feet and stumbled from Mentor Control without thought for the half-choked words of his fellows. Out the doors to the stairs, he started running. He burst from the Control Tower at a sprint, shoved through groups of weeping sponsors chattering about "the most tragic Games of all time," and would probably have smashed right through the glass doors of the Training Center if someone hadn't seen him coming and opened them. The only reason he took the elevator instead of the stairs was because Effie was already there waiting for him with Cinna, holding one of them open.

If they spoke a word to him on the ride to the hoverpad, he didn't hear it.

By the time he got on board the hovercraft that arrived from the arena, Katniss was already sedated. A group of doctors hovered over her, but also ministered to each other. Split lips, bruising eyes, long, deep scratches - working with a victor in the immediate aftermath of the arena was always hazard duty, but even the most frenzied Careers often weren't capable of dealing out this much damage.

More than that, she had added to her own catalog of injuries on this ride. The scratches on her face, tangles of black hair around her fingers, and bleeding spots on her scalp were all self-inflicted. The sharp scent of orange juice overpowered the usual post-arena stenches of blood, sweat, and dirt. The shattered glass, the colorful puddle, and the bloody shards in her own hands told the tale.

"Oh, Katniss," Effie breathed. The hitch in her voice surprised Haymitch. She'd been an escort long enough that she wasn't a crier.

For a first-time head stylist, Cinna kept an impressive calm. "Life-threatening injuries?"

"None other than dehydration and malnutrition," reported one of the doctors, pressing a cloth to a gash on his own forehead. "Minor electric shock from the stunner, but she was already coming 'round when we got her in here. As you can see," he added. "She'll need those glass cuts fixed before we can start the polish."

"See to her health first, of course," said Cinna. "If we have to delay the party, we'll delay it. The audience has plenty to talk about."

"She's a major suicide risk," said another doctor, holding up her limp hand to show where she'd gouged her own wrist. "We had to stun her when she tried to go into the lake after the rest of those berries."

Haymitch found his voice again. "Let us worry about that. You just get her treated." Not that he had any first-hand experience in it, but his fellow mentors from the more successful districts had warned him often enough. "Your job isn't over when they win, Haymitch. Mentoring doesn't end with the victory."

He had scoffed at it as the decades passed with nothing to take home but two wooden boxes, year after year. He'd snapped at the weary Gloss who made that comment in his hearing a few years back. "That's a problem a lot of us would like to have!"

Well, now he had it. And he was about to be paid back in spades for every bitter thought or snide remark he'd made to winning mentors. He'd been smart enough before now to recognize in the back of his mind the first duty of a victor's mentor and team: put them back together. The doctors had the job of the physical aspect. The mentor had the harder one.

As Katniss was wheeled into the medical wing, he felt pulled in six different directions. Effie too looked conflicted. "I should... Haymitch, I need to get on damage control."

Damage control... "Oh, shit, what'd she say?"

Effie sighed. "What you'd expect under the circumstances, but... if I don't get it spun properly, it could cause complications." She made it sound like some Capitol body mod surgery. "I'll be back to see her as soon as I can."

It seemed Haymitch was the decision-maker after the victory. He waved Effie off. "Do what you need to do."

"Someone must stay with her. If she were to hurt herself now, it would be catastrophic. And... she'll need familiar faces." That forestalled the glower he was about to give her.

As Effie hurried away, Cinna put a hand on Haymitch's shoulder. "It's not over." That made Haymitch look sharply at him. "You just need to remind her of everything worth living and fighting for."

…Sure. Peeta's dead, she's going to be crowned whether she wants it or not, and we're supposed to ask her to help us foster a rebellion? He looked away. Cinna went on, "I can spend some time with her once I get the designs done and the prep started."

Pull it together, Abernathy. You've been wishing for this for twenty-four years. But it was as if his brain was inhabited by two people - one aged forty and the other aged sixteen. The sixteen-year-old answered the frustrated, exhausted mentor with bitterness. Yeah, and by the time it was over, you didn't thank anyone for that crown. Why should she?

Movement from the doorway caught his eye. The Avoxes had arrived, presumably to assist in the post-Games activities. There was the striking little redhead who Katniss had recognized from somewhere and Peeta - he felt a stab of physical pain in his guts - claimed she looked like the Cartwright girl. She didn't, Haymitch knew perfectly well, but it was a start. He pointed at her, and she stepped forward. "Page your supervisor." The girl obeyed at once, but went white, a feat considering her already-pale complexion. "Relax, you're not in trouble, I just need to check on protocol."

The supervisor stalked in a few minutes later. She was an old ex-Peacekeeper clad in black, with gray hair in a tight bun, not an implant or tattoo in sight, and a nasty hardness about her. "What's the problem?"

"Nothing. Bear with me, Boss, this is the first time I've brought a tribute back. I wanna borrow your little redhead here to keep an eye on my victor until she's back on her feet. Cinna and I have stuff to get done, but I don't want her left alone."

"Oh." Was that a flicker of dismay? Avox trainers were chosen from the cream of the retired Peacekeeper crop and known for their cruelty. If Katniss and Peeta's tragic doomed romance could move even them, that was impressive. "Both of your Avoxes are available for anything you need."

He nodded, but clarified, "Twenty-four-seven? I want her in a chair at the girl's bedside unless one of our team is there."

"She's yours, but she's not trained in suicide watch," the supervisor warned. She fixed a black gaze on the red-haired girl. "Of course, she'll still be responsible if anything happens."

Cinna stepped in. "The doctors will handle that, but we want someone familiar to Katniss."

"Red here looks a lot like a friend of theirs in Twelve," Haymitch lied smoothly. "Can't hurt to have someone who reminds her of friends at home, and might even help pull her through her grief."

"She's at your disposal."

"Great." Haymitch beckoned the girl forward. "The medics are going to have her sedated most of the time, but when she's awake, you do whatever it takes to keep her calm. Hug her, hold her hand, write her notes. Got it? Let's go." He wished he could be gentler with her, but not while they were under surveillance with so much at risk - for him, for Katniss, and the redhead. He didn't wait for the supervisor to make any comments or protests. He marched the girl down to the recovery room and stole a notepad from one of the nurses. "Write your name."

She hesitated only a moment before doing it: Lavinia.

"Okay, Lavinia. You understand what I need you to do?" She nodded. He turned to the medical attendants and gestured at the girl. "She's to stay with Katniss every minute unless Cinna, Effie, or I are here. She has a free hand, understood?" Nods all around. "Good. I'll be back."

When she first woke to the sensation of someone stroking her hair, Katniss couldn't remember what had happened. Those were a soothing few minutes. But when she opened her eyes and saw the Avox girl, it came back in such a rush that she couldn't breathe, and an alarm wailed from the machine by her bed.

Peeta... Peeta, Peeta. He - no - no…

Why am I still alive?!

She tried to lurch from the bed, but a strap across her midriff prevented it. Several people hurried into the room as Katniss thrashed, but it was the girl who seized her shoulders and pushed her bodily back down. Over the meaningless, babbled reassurances of the medics came a strange, animalistic howling that Katniss eventually realized was coming from her own throat.

She bucked off several of her tormentors, but the Avox girl managed to keep her grip until a cold liquid in the IV line leached even the hysteria-born strength from Katniss's muscles. The last thing she saw was brown eyes, brimming with tears, and the last thing she felt was the other girl's hands stroking her cheeks as oblivion took her.

Awareness arrived before her limbs did the second time she woke. A heavy lethargy prevented the white-hot rage and terror of before, but in its place was a dark, endless chasm of grief, like a water-filled underground cave. Taking stock of her body, she found sound had returned to her damaged ear. There was no trace of the lingering pain from the burn in her calf, and when she lifted a clumsy hand to her forehead, she found the scar almost gone.

Peeta. Peeta…no….please, Peeta, no…you can't leave me here alone!

When she opened her eyes, the sobs were already coming. The Avox girl was still there and seized her hand. With her free hand, she wiped Katniss's face with a damp cloth.

"I-want-die."

The Avox faltered, dismay in her eyes, and shook her head. Katniss tried to jerk her hand free but couldn't. The Avox held on and shook her head harder, seeming desperate. No doubt she'd be held responsible if Katniss managed to harm herself, but... even with her mind in turmoil, Katniss recognized it: this girl didn't want her to die. The pressure of the grip on her hand wasn't just that of a frightened slave. It was the pressure of friendship. This girl who had never had Katniss's protection cared enough to want to save her.

A notepad rested on a tray by the bed, and Katniss noticed a single word in red ink. "Lavinia. Is that you?"

The girl nodded.

"What do I - do now?" Katniss croaked.

The girl considered it. Then with another squeeze, she released Katniss's hands and wrote three more words on the pad, cringing as if even this could potentially get her punished. But she lifted her chin and turned it towards Katniss: Live for him.

Katniss met Lavinia's eyes and knew that this girl, at most a few years older than she, was speaking from her own experience. Speaking such as she could, not only losing someone she loved but mutilated and enslaved. The tears returned, but not entirely selfish anymore. She held out her hand, Lavinia took it again, and she wept quietly until the line in her arm sedated her again.

To Be Continued...

Chapter Text

There was no way to measure how many days had passed since the arena, how many days Peeta Mellark had been dead. Katniss woke, Katniss cried. Lavinia held her hand and stroked her hair. There was food that Katniss couldn't always eat, but for Lavinia's sake, she tried.

But in the back of her mind she was bitterly aware of what she had recognized in those final moments in the arena: she would never escape it now. Peeta was dead. 

The Gamemakers had defeated them, letting her believe so stupidly that they were going to allow two people to survive the Hunger Games. That she wouldn't have to go home with these hideous memories alone. They had fooled her completely, then torn all hope away, and now she would never really leave it behind. Peeta had been the one to escape.  Katniss never would.

Sometimes that thought made her hate Peeta. Then she hated herself for hating him, her heart rate would skyrocket, Lavinia would clutch her hand, and the cold sedative would knock her out.

Eventually, she woke and found that she and Lavinia weren't alone. Lavinia was back to standing by the door as a silent Avox, and it was Haymitch in the chair by the bedside. He looked exhausted. His eyes, like Lavinia's, showed an understanding for the agony Katniss felt. He patted her hand. "Hey there, sweetheart. How you feeling?"

There was no cheer in his voice, no congratulations or praise from him, not that she would have wanted any. 

"Peeta," she whispered.

His fingers tightened on hers. "I know. I know." He stroked her hand with his thumb. "That's the way it’s gotta be."

Since when? she wanted to scream. She wanted to scream like she had with Peeta in her arms, his eyes first staring at her, then staring at nothing. Over the sound of both cannon and trumpets, she had screamed. 

"Murderers! You've murdered all of them! You sick, perverted bastards, you murdered us all! Don't call me that!" she had screamed as Claudius Templesmith declared her the victor. "I'm not your victor!"

She'd scrabbled at the ground, searching for one dropped berry, just one, to finish this. But Peeta had swallowed every one in his hand. She’d kissed him wildly, seeking some shred of the fruit or drop of its poison, to no avail. He must have swallowed them whole, maybe for that very reason.

“ I'm not going,” she'd raved, leaving Peeta and tearing for the lake, searching the mud with her hands for that pouch with more berries. “ I won't be your victor!  Murdering bastards!  You murder children for fun; you’re sick, you’re all sick!  You’re all monsters!  Damn you!”

She had tried to submerge herself in the lake when she saw the hovercraft appear. With no other option, maybe a lungful of water would be enough. But the shock had hit her first. She'd awakened on the hovercraft's hard floor to find doctors hovering over her and an attendant offering her a glass with a straw. They might as well have been mutts themselves. She had lunged, shattering the glass on the floor to try to slash her own wrist. She'd fought like a wild, rabid thing when they restrained her, screaming all the while: "Let me die! Let me die!"

Then she’d awakened here, over and over.  Alone.  They’d taken her body from the arena, but the rest of her would be trapped there forever, surrounded by death, searching for a way out.  "Why can't I die, Haymitch?" she asked.

He looked at her for a long time, as though having trouble figuring out the answer to that himself. But then he turned, reached down beside the chair, and raised a small, shiny ceramic pot to her eye level.

In it, a little bush with a single, yellow blossom.

A primrose.

Katniss choked on her own breath. He moved it into her reach, and she brushed the silky petals with her fingertips.

Prim...

She looked from the pot to the man holding it, to his gray, shadowed eyes. Seam eyes. Tribute eyes. She didn't know much about Haymitch's Games, only that it had been a special year as the Quarter Quell and that the districts had had to send twice as many tributes as usual. So he'd outlived forty-seven other kids to return home alone. No wonder he spent so much time drunk.

He was sober now. It could only be for her sake. She stopped touching the primrose and put her hand on his. Haymitch beckoned to Lavinia, who came around the bed to release the restraints. "Good work, Red. You're commended." Lavinia nodded, then slipped from the room. Katniss sat up and was startled when Haymitch pulled her into his arms. "Listen up," he murmured into her hair. She managed not to stiffen. "It's not over, Katniss. You generated backlash against the Games and the Capitol. Even people here are starting to say it's wrong, but Snow and the Gamemakers won’t like that. You'll be the one targeted for retaliation."

Emotions chased each other around inside her: triumph, disgust, rage, pain. Searing pain. "Does it matter?" she asked. Although her face wasn't covered for any cameras, she could be talking about anything.

Haymitch released her and picked up the primrose pot again. "You have people to come home to."

All those other feelings gave way in a rush to terror. He meant that the retaliation wouldn't only fall on her. Prim. Her mother. Gale. Haymitch himself. 

"What do I do?" she murmured. 

"Look ahead. These will be the first Hunger Games portrayed as a romantic tragedy. But you're the victor, and you have a job to do now. Show them that you're going to live for him."

Her eyes darted to the notepad on the tray, but the sheet with Lavinia's name - and her advice - had been torn off. Still, Katniss knew Haymitch had seen it. Meeting his eyes again, she nodded. "Will Prim even recognize me when I get home?" she wondered aloud.

Haymitch smiled wearily. "Trust me on this one, sweetheart:  all that matters to her is that you are coming home."

Effie surprised them all by being completely without words when she joined them and pulled Katniss into a hug. Cinna too could do little more than hold her tightly and stroke her hair. However, the prep team made up for that silence in spades.

"That was the most beautiful, heartbreaking thing I've ever seen!"

"I swear I almost fainted!"

"This was either the best Games ever or the worst!"

Katniss mostly managed to tune them out, trying not to hate them, and in the end, Effie scolded them. "All of you, stop that. Katniss is having a hard time."

Octavia, busy styling Katniss's hair, looked at the reflection in the mirror and saw the tears that had managed to escape despite Katniss's best efforts. Her expression, that usual vacant, perky smile, fell, and it was as if Katniss was looking into Octavia’s eyes for the first time. As if Octavia was truly seeing Katniss for the first time.  Her peach-dyed lips trembled. "Oh, I…I'm so sorry," she whispered.

Flavius and Venia murmured apologies too, looking at the floor.  It wasn’t just sympathy in their eyes either.  

Katniss couldn't answer. But she surprised herself by wanting to smile and reassure them as Flavius began dabbing at her face.

Her dress for the crowning was black, but not quite like the mourning clothes she had seen wealthy people wear. The hem was trimmed with the gemstones that had covered her entire interview dress, so that when she moved, she looked like she had embers at her feet. The girl on fire, nearly put out by grief, but still smoldering. The mockingjay pin looked brighter than ever against the dark fabric over her heart. She'd tried to resist wearing it, but Cinna told her, "You should wear it now more than ever. For Peeta.  For all of them."

But on her wrist, they placed an elegant little corsage on a black ribbon with a little cluster of yellow and pink primrose blooms. When Effie told her that had been Haymitch's idea, she got both messages: the primrose was to be her anchor but also a warning.

If I’d succeeded in killing myself, would she be safe? Or would everyone back home still be in danger?

Katniss had no time to consider it further before being launched onto the stage with Caesar Flickerman again in front of a cheering audience. She stared out at them, feeling even more lost and bewildered than during her first interview. Caesar guided her by the hand to the victor's throne, and she moved to sit automatically, feeling as if her head was detached from her body.

Emotion returned painfully when the Games recap began. She wanted to run. Every year, the Gamemakers had to choose a theme for the story their recap would tell, and this year, for the first time, they were telling a love story. But not just a love story. Haymitch was a right: a romantic tragedy.

It was bad enough watching the recaps of the Reapings and the tribute parade, knowing that every boy and girl  they showed was now dead apart from Katniss. Seeing herself talking with Rue was painful enough. But the first time Peeta appeared on the screen, she couldn't do it. She folded her hands in her lap, the primrose corsage on top, and stared fixedly down at them. But that didn't stop her from hearing Claudius Templesmith's narration and Peeta's recorded voice.

Claudius and Caesar’s narration was half-wrong, of course. It wasn't a romance in reality. Maybe it had been to Peeta. Much of Katniss’s side had been acting for the cameras, especially in the cave. But the thought of going home, of him being with her, of being able to share in those hellish memories... toward the end, that had meant so much. 

Hope, as powerful as the sight of the dandelion that promised life and survival.

And then it was all gone, torn away with a calm announcement that seemed to mock her for being so gullible. Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark, the star-crossed lovers of District 12, had indeed had their showdown, but not like the Capitol had expected. They had fought, struggling on the ground, but not for the kill: for the right to die. To not be the one to leave that place alone.

Peeta had won.

She wanted to cover her ears, hearing his words again, her protests, his declarations of love, but she felt frozen in the seat. And moving her hands would mean losing sight of the primroses, the one token that could still give her a reason to live.

Prim, Prim, Prim!

The replay ended with her cradling Peeta’s body, letting out that first inarticulate wail of anguish, with a great symphonic soundtrack accompanying it, the tragedy of the star-crossed lovers of District 12. When the music died, she could hear sobbing everywhere. From the sound of it, even Caesar was weepy. "Oh, Katniss," he breathed.  She looked up to see tears trickling delicately down his face, as if he’d had a stylist arrange even that to be as pretty as possible. "Forgive us for putting you through that."

He meant the replay, of course. Not the Hunger Games.

President Snow appeared, accompanied by a little girl carrying the crown on a cushion, but when he stood before Katniss to place it on her head, his eyes were cold, unsympathetic, and unforgiving. Katniss understood what Haymitch had meant. Her words, her condemnation of the Games and the Capitol, even cried out in the throes of grief, were viewed as rebellious, and she would be punished, even though none of it had been included in the official recap. 

President Snow leaned in to kiss her cheek. The unnatural reek of the rose on his lapel was bad enough, making her eyes itch, but she also caught a whiff of blood. Where was that?! What was it? Was it her imagination, the memories of the arena?

Stepping away, he said in a gentle voice, "I'm glad to see you holding up so well, Miss Everdeen. And that your stylist has given you a reminder of all the good things in your life." He nodded to the primrose corsage.  But Katniss felt a chill run through her. 

"I noticed that too," said Caesar, brightening at once. "I know you've gone through a heartbreak, Katniss, but you will get through this. You volunteered in the beginning to save your sister, and now you get to go home to her!"

Applause was loud in response to that, but they seemed to be waiting for her to answer. She nodded weakly. "I'll be so glad to see her again."

Caesar came over to take her hands as President Snow said his farewells, then closed the show reminding everyone to tune in the following night for the final interview.

Effie gave her some pills to put her to sleep that night. She resisted it at first, knowing all too well she would return to the arena as soon as she closed her eyes. But Lavinia found her pacing the bedroom at some miserably late hour and held them out again. Katniss finally agreed to take them, telling herself it was for Lavinia's sake so she would at least be free to get some sleep. Lavinia looked as tired as Haymitch.

Katniss's dreams that night were a surprise: she did go back to the arena, but sat at the edge of the high grass field, relaxed and unafraid. Peeta and Rue were there. Rue sorted seeds and berries, and Peeta was painting. She had never seen him paint on anything other than his own skin, but he had an easel set up and was painting on an actual canvas. Rue sang, accompanied by a chorus of mockingjays, and passed him a handful of shelled nuts. Katniss gazed around the field, which was green like the meadow back home, and saw the figures of other kids, strolling along the woods, cooking over a fire, swimming in the lake. They blurred if she tried to focus on them, but she somehow knew they were the rest of the tributes.

When she woke, she cried, just as she had every time she awoke since the arena. But for the first time since the arena, it wasn't in total despair.

The dress Cinna brought her for the final interview was pale candlelight-yellow silk. She didn't have to ask to get another cluster of primrose tied around her wrist. "Will he make me talk about Peeta the whole time?" she asked Haymitch as she sat in front of the mirror with the prep team working on her hair and makeup.

"Yeah." 

Octavia sniffled.

She met his eyes in the reflection. "Then... prep me."

"Okay." Haymitch pulled up a chair, considered her for a few moments, then launched into a Caesar Flickerman imitation that soon had them all in stitches. He was so overblown with his questions and emoting that it took her attention completely off the content - namely, how she felt during her short days with Peeta, whether she fell in love with him, whether she thought she would ever love again.

Finally, Flavius started hopping around, "I'm going to have to redo her makeup!"

Letting him wipe her face and trying to keep her grin off, she demanded, "Why didn't you do that during the first interview prep?"

Haymitch shrugged. "I wasn't in the moment. One good thing about old Caesar is he does love the drama. Let him bring it."

So she did. It wasn't as hard as she feared it would be. Caesar seemed to feel bad for the position she was in, forced to talk about losing the love of her life, and all she had to do was look down as if a question was distressing her, and he'd continue on with his own interpretation. 

The only really hard moment came when Caesar questioned her about what she'd said over Peeta's body ( without replaying it). She saw Haymitch's worried face out of the corner of her eye and finally murmured, "The truth is, Caesar, I don't really remember what I said. I mean... I remember shouting, but not what I said."

Caesar reached over to take her hand. "I understand, Katniss. A person can say all kinds of things when they're distraught with grief. I doubt anyone blames you."

Haymitch sighed.

Afterward, she drifted through the victory banquet as distress and anxiety gave way to numbness. She nibbled on the food without tasting it, smiled vacantly as pictures were taken with the various sponsors, and mumbled banal phrases that Effie had suggested when people asked about her future plans and how she was coping.

"I'm just going to take it one day at a time and try to live the best life I can."

"Love someone else? Well, it's hard to think about right now."

"I'm looking forward to seeing my mother and sister again."

"It's certainly been a memorable experience."

She felt nothing but relief when it was finally over and Haymitch and Effie shepherded her into a car with blacked-out windows for the train. She was glad to change out the dress, beautiful as it was, but kept the primrose corsage on her wrist, even after she went to bed. Gazing at it resting on the pillow, she finally fell asleep.

For the past twenty-four years, Haymitch had used the train trip home to get as wasted as possible. There were rarely cameras around when a failed mentor returned to nothing but two grieving families having to bury their children, and those families rarely had anything to say to him.

Not this year.

After all, he'd made Katniss a deal. And Peeta. " Don't interfere with my drinking, I'll stay sober enough to help you. " Well, they hadn't. He did drink, taking the edge of the anxiety that sizzled through his veins when he thought of what was still coming to Katniss, but somehow, after he’d taken the edge off, he managed to stop. Again and again and again. To stay sober enough to help her.

Cinna, Plutarch, and the others wanted him to cultivate Katniss. Her screamed words of blame against the Capitol and the Games for Peeta and the deaths of the other tributes might be dismissed by some as the madness of a grief-stricken lover, but not all. Hell, even he knew it was nothing but what she'd already carried inside. The pre-Games interview prep had made that clear. He really should have thought of doing his Caesar imitation then; it would've made it easier on both of them.

But how the hell was he supposed to push her towards rebellion knowing that Snow's hand would be coming down on her already with the worst the Capitol had to offer? He'd seen some of Snow's favored allies watching the girl. He’d gotten pained glances from other attractive victors as they passed each other in the hall. Everyone knew it was coming. And if Katniss resisted, as she always did, Snow wouldn't hesitate to slaughter Primrose or anyone else the girl cared about.

Here's the deal, sweetheart: you're going to be forced into prostitution. Yes, we're trying to foster a rebellion to overthrow these bastards, but you can't say no to Snow when he decides to whore you out. So don't resist selling your body, but do help us resist behind the scenes - while we mentor the next batch of tributes to be butchered. Are we clear?

Yeah, that'd go over well.

Chaff had slapped him on the shoulder as the other mentors left before the interviews. "Call me if you need anything."

Haymitch sighed. That offer stood from all District 11 mentors, of course - hell, from just about every mentor, but especially District 11. They'd already been good friends before all this, and Katniss's honor for Rue had knitted the relationship still more, as had Thresh's choice to spare her for Rue's sake.

He found Effie looking in on Katniss, who had gone from sleeplessness in the Capitol to sleeping away almost the entire train ride. "Hey, favor: find out who I talk to to get a phone put back in my house."

Effie raised her painted eyebrows. "And should the poor workmen go to that trouble if you're just going to rip it out the first time it rings?"

He waved dismissively. "Getting her situated here and preparing for the Victory Tour's going to be a job. I'll take all the help I can get."

"I'll talk to the mayor." She started past him, then looked back. "You now... Peeta would be so glad you're looking after her."

He could only meet her eyes for a second before turning to the window. "Sure."

To Be Continued...

Chapter Text

Being swamped by cheering people and half-blinded by camera flashes nearly had Katniss running back into the train car to escape. The only thing that prevented her was the sight of her mother and Prim, who were fortunately allowed through the mob of well-wishers and camera crews. She stumbled forward and half-collapsed into their arms, trying to hang onto both of them at the same time. And she cried. She had hidden it from the reaping to the train, throughout the Games, even through those agonizing post-Games interviews.

Now the dam broke, and Katniss was powerless to stop it or do anything apart from burying her face in her mother's neck. The world faded and contracted to the arms holding her, the smell of Prim's hair, her mother's hands rubbing her back. But in the back of her mind, she heard Haymitch's warning: " Be careful of doing anything that seems like you're condemning the Games."

It took a few minutes, but she finally managed to raise her head and give a watery smile, gasping, "Sorry, sorry! I just - I missed you so much!"

Her mother wiped the tears from her face and laughed. "We knew this would be emotional. You're home." She kissed Katniss on the forehead and gestured past her. "Your cousins can hardly wait to see you!"

Katniss managed to hide her confusion and looked over her shoulder to see Gale, Hazelle, and Gale’s younger siblings. Gale's smile had a wry twist as he joined them in engulfing her in another circle of arms, but at least it gave her time to puzzle out the situation.

Of course. Gale was her best friend, but in the midst of all that romance and love talk over Peeta, there were probably some uncomfortable questions. So somebody had held the Hawthornes to be her cousins, permitted to be close to her without threatening the “lovers” angle. Well, at least she and Gale looked like they could be related.

So she kissed cheeks, lifted up Posy for a fierce hug like she'd done in the past with Prim - and Rue - and had little trouble acting like a girl consumed with joy over the reunion with her family. Hazelle was in many ways like an aunt to her, she mused. At least exchanging wry grins with them helped get her back in control of her emotions, and it didn't bother her to be gathered up with them all to pose for pictures. Having a few more arms around her shoulders and waist, the arms of people she trusted even if the blood relation wasn't real, was perfectly fine with her.

Haymitch managed to stick to the background of the reunion. His long reputation as a drunken, failed mentor wouldn't be erased by bringing Katniss home, nor did he particularly want it to be. The people of District 12 were a skeptical lot, and he didn't blame them for their attitudes. He had been raised the same. So even as the now-triumphant mentor of a victor, most of the natives said little more than an offhand "congratulations" or "good work," and left him alone, preferring to swamp Katniss with their attention.

He thought about wading in to spare her for a few minutes, but Clara Everdeen was doing an impressive job running interference. Katniss blanched when one of the reporters asked her mother what she'd thought of Peeta Mellark, and Clara firmly replied, "Why don't we save that for this evening. I'll be happy to chat with you at dinner, but this moment is emotional enough for Katniss."

However, it was expected that Katniss would call on the family of her fellow District 12 tribute; even without the romance angle, there would have been no escaping that. The Mellarks weren't in the crowd at the train station, but as the crowd moved off in the direction of the square where the banquet would be, Haymitch saw how tightly Katniss held onto her mother's arm.

Then a golden-haired figure slipped out of the group towards him, and Haymitch focused his tired eyes on Primrose Everdeen. Funny how the girl seemed to have gained about two inches and ten years in the few weeks since he'd last seen her, terrified and anguished at the reaping. He forced a smile. "Hey there, Little Bit."

"Hello, Haymitch." She took one of his hands in both of hers. "I wanted to tell you how grateful we are that you brought Katniss home. We're always in your debt for saving her," she said formally.

He gave her tiny hands a pat with his free one. "Don't sell your sister short, Little Bit. She saved herself." A shadow crossed the girl's blue eyes, though her smile stayed. Haymitch eyed the slowly-moving crowd and decided he might as well get down to work. "Let's you and me take a walk, huh?"

They meandered around the square to the meadow side where it was quieter. "Mama, I mean, my mother already had a talk with me," Primrose told him.

It gave him a pang, seeing this little girl trying to sound older than she was. Reminded him of Rue. "And what'd she say?"

The girl sighed. "That Katniss will never be quite the same. That nobody ever is, and we have to try to help her."

He sat her down on a fallen log and nodded. "Afraid that's true. Under any circumstances, the arena's hard to forget."

"You'd know."

"I dare say I would." The last thing he wanted was to take this discussion in that direction, but this girl had easily as much brains as her big sister. He smiled. "She's going to have some words for me when she finds out I talked to you about this."

"Why?" Now all indignant, Primrose really was reminding him of her big sister.

He chuckled. "You telling me you haven't noticed how protective she is? That much of her hasn't changed."

Primrose dropped her eyes and toyed with the flaking bark of their makeshift bench. "It's too late for that, Haymitch." She looked up again, and her eyes went straight through him. He nearly leaned away. "The arena doesn't just change tributes, does it? How could I stay the same after watching my sister in the Hunger Games?"

Damn, Clara, you and Jake had some alchemy to create these two. "Good question."

"Is that selfish?" she demanded, and he gave a firm shake of his head.

"Not by a long shot. Why, did your ma say it was?" If so, I'm going to have words with her.

The girl shook her head. "No. Just that Katniss... might not be able to look after us like she used to. And now we have to do it for her."

"She's going to have some bad days; I won't lie to you ‘bout that. Bad nights. And starting next year, she'll be mentoring our tributes with me."

"I'm glad she'll be with you," said Prim. That startled him, and it must have shown on his face, because she smiled. "She won't be alone. And you've done it for a long time."

Anyone would think I've had some sort of success rate before now. "I'll do my best." She noticed his doubtful expression, but before she could comment on it, one of the younger Hawthorne boys came sprinting around the corner. 

"Mr. Haymitch! Uh, Mrs. Everdeen wants you!"

Haymitch and Primrose leaped to their feet. "What happened?!" she demanded.

The boy had that half-horrified, half-delighted expression that only kids could manage. "Katniss hit Peeta's ma!"

Oh, shit. He sprinted for the square with the kids at his heels. The crowd gave way for them outside the bakery, and he caught Prim's elbow when he saw Katniss being led away by Clara towards the road back to the Seam. "You go look after your sister, Little Bit. I'll handle this." He ran his mind through what he knew of Peeta's mother, from Peeta's own comments and his own semi-sober observations over the years, and quickly figured out where this had come from.

Entering the bakery, he found the other newly-designated cousins hovering with Hazelle Hawthorne near the door. The baker's wife was indeed sporting what would probably become a nice shiner as Peeta's two brothers looked on. Gale took a cautious step towards him and muttered, "She said, 'How does it feel?'"

Haymitch whistled appreciatively, which got the Mellarks' attention. He raked the baker's wife with his eyes. "I'll say one thing for Katniss, she likes her poetic justice." The woman stared at him, and he had no doubt she knew why she was the target of the girl's rage and the mentor's scorn. "'She's a survivor, that one,'" he added for good measure. Both Mellark boys and the baker flinched. To the boys, flatly ignoring both parents, he said in a lower voice, "You two ever need anything, anything at all, you come to me or to Katniss. Your brother was a good kid." He had to take a quick breath. "He loved you. We won't forget him." He very much wanted to go, but decided there was one more thing that needed to be said. He slowly turned back to the baker’s wife and lowered his voice even more. "You take this out on them, or raise a finger to any kid in this district ever again, you better believe we'll find out. And I'll deal with what's left when Katniss is done with you." Then he left in a hurry.

Hazelle followed him out. "I wouldn't worry about this too much. Everyone in the district knows what that woman is like. They won't blame Katniss."

Good to know, even if it didn't stop "everyone in the district" from turning a blind eye when she slapped Peeta and the other two around. He didn't say it aloud. After all, he himself had been aware of it and never spoken up.

Mayor Undersee intercepted them. "Haymitch, I thought I'd open up the house in the Victors’ Village next door to you if you have no objection."

He shrugged. "I don't if they don't. Effie mention the phone?"

The mayor smiled. "She did. I'll have them take care of it when they hook up the other line. Should we... delay the banquet tonight?"

"Nah, let's go ahead with it." And get it over with. For the cameras still hovering around, he said, "It's been an emotional day, but she's a tough girl. I think she'll be just fine." Bullshit, of course. You know that as well as me.

The celebrations and ceremonies wore on and on. Katniss was staggering with exhaustion before long. Mayor Undersee brought Madge with him when he came with a team of workmen and decorators to prepare their home in the Victors’ Village. There would be yet another ceremony, cutting the ribbon and presenting Katniss with the key, when it was ready in a few days. 

He formally presented her with her first monthly payment of victor's winnings, in a public event that left Katniss reeling, half in shock at the sheer scale of it, half ashamed at publicly flaunting such wealth in a place where so many people starved.

Once the ceremony was over, he invited Katniss's mother, Prim, and Haymitch to join them back at his house for tea to talk "particulars."

"I thought you might want your family's input, and maybe you could benefit from your mentor's experience. This first payment is made in full, but it would keep a family three times your size quite comfortable for a year. So you may want to reduce the subsequent cash payments and vault the rest at the Justice Building."

"That's what I do," Haymitch remarked. "Not complicated since so few people in Twelve need vaults. Access is pretty easy if you ever need more coins."

"How do we know how much we have?" asked Prim. Then she blushed and added, "How much Katniss has, I mean."

Katniss shot her a look. "Don't be silly. It's all of ours."

"The Justice Vault representatives will give you the new balance each time a deposit or withdrawal is made so you'll have a running tally." The mayor gave Haymitch a wry smile. "It adds up. You can, if you want, designate your mother as having full access to make withdrawals, deposits, and accept payments. Primrose won't be eligible until after her final reaping."

That ugly thought - knowing Prim was still eligible to be reaped - sent a violent chill through Katniss. The odds were in her favor then. As much as they can be, and she was still chosen. She could be reaped now and I couldn't volunteer, there'd be nothing I could do, they'd take her away...

"Katniss? Katniss!"

"Sweetheart, stay with me."

She refocused her eyes to find herself clutching Prim and almost hyperventilating. "It'll be okay," Prim whispered, rubbing her arms. "Katniss, it'll be okay!"

"I'm sorry," said Mayor Undersee. He beckoned Madge over to sit at Katniss's other side, holding her refilled teacup. Katniss sipped to find it loaded with so much sugar that it tasted like sleep syrup. It wasn't actually, but it managed to pull her back.

"I... I..." Her gaze fell on her mother. "Yes, I'd like it if you'd... do that. Help... manage it all." Can you manage me too?

Her mother smiled and reached across the table to squeeze her hand. Mayor Undersee briskly handed around the forms to be signed, giving joint authority over their vault account and the right to accept Katniss's winnings, and they were grateful for his business-like attitude. She also signed the forms declaring Prim and her mother would have the right to live in and manage the new house - at least as long as Katniss was alive.

Haymitch and Mayor Undersee suggested a sum that they should take in cash from each payment for their living expenses. "I hope you'll still offer apothecary services, Clara," the mayor added to her mother. "You're a tremendous asset to the district, especially to the people who can't afford doctors."

"Of course."

"Then don't forget to take that into account with your budget."

Prim and her mother happily seized on all the new logistical issues - their new budget, expanding her mother's apothecary work, decorating the new house - as a way to keep Katniss busy. Katniss couldn't very well forage in the woods for supplies as she was used to doing, not with all the cameras around, so she had the strange experience of scouring the market with a pocket full of coins to buy the herbs and bark and plants that would be made into remedies. It had the twofold advantage of being a perfectly proper, post-victory activity where she could go out in public and be photographed, and also keep her mind occupied with lists and inventory.

She hadn't yet had a chance to talk to Gale away from prying eyes. She made a complete fool of herself when she tried to give him some of the money from her first month's winnings, impulsive and awkward when he'd mentioned he was going to work in the mines. He had backed away from her outstretched hands holding the coins that constituted three times what he would earn and silently shook his head. She couldn't very well blame him. In other circumstances, she wouldn't have accepted it either.

Amid Prim running around to direct the workmen to place the chosen furniture and demanding Katniss’s input, it took a few days for Katniss to notice she hadn't seen much of Haymitch since tea with the Mayor. She managed to pry herself away from Prim, and the catalogs of "household goods", and went next door. One of the workmen, installing some sort of water tank in the side of the new house, called out, "You might not want to go in there, Miss."

"Why?" she asked in surprise.

He just wrinkled his nose. Katniss considered Haymitch's house, occupied by him alone, at least as far as she knew, for twenty-four years. Despite the fact that the groundskeeper who'd introduced himself to her family was maintaining the yard, it had a neglected, run-down look. "Waste case ," some of the other adults called Haymitch. " Stupid, drunken bastard. "

Well, in this district, he was the only person who really shared the loss of Peeta with her, let alone who'd been through the entire experience of the Hunger Games. He had pulled her back from wanting only a chance at suicide with the reminder of Prim and managed to stay sober through all the interviews, the trip home, and the initial celebrations.

So she ignored the workmen and trotted up the porch steps to knock on Haymitch's door.

Nothing. She knocked louder. With a huff of annoyance, she tried the knob, then blinked when the door opened. So Haymitch didn't even bother to lock it.

She already had her suspicions about what she'd find inside, and she was very, very right. The place reeked of stale alcohol, burnt food, and mouse droppings... among other things. She nearly staggered back out just in search of fresh air, but settled instead for staggering to the window. It took a few minutes to pry one open through the rust and sediment that had accumulated over the years, but it was something. 

In the kitchen, she found her missing mentor, passed out and snoring loudly at the table with one hand still holding the base of an empty bottle.

"Finally off the wagon, are you?" Katniss sighed. She pawed through his kitchen drawers and found a flat-headed screwdriver that she could use to pry open the other windows. She considered just leaving him to it. But as she glanced out one of the windows across the grass to her own house-in-progress, somehow decorating the new place with all that nice furniture and choosing colors of draperies and linens seemed even less appealing than the squalor that surrounded Haymitch. "Maybe you're on to something," she mused, knowing he had no chance of hearing it. "I could take up drinking."

She left choosing pretty things to Prim and her mother and got down to work at her mentor's. She gathered up some empty boxes and bags outside where the workmen were leaving their rubbish until it could be carted off.  Back at her mentor’s, she began sorting through the accumulated layers of filthy debris on Haymitch's floor - some to be cleaned, some to be put away, most to go to the dump. The groundskeeper did a double-take when he spotted her carrying bags of trash, but asked, "Want me to send someone to help, Miss Katniss?"

"No, I've got it." She'd take intruding into Haymitch's home as a fellow victor's privilege (whether he liked it or not), but wouldn't push it by bringing in others. She sternly refused Prim and her mother's offers of help as well, urging them to go on with decorating the new house.  They seemed to understand.

The upstairs of Haymitch’s house wasn't as bad as downstairs, apart from one bedroom and bathroom. The rest of his place was mostly disused and musty from being closed off. She opened every window.  Although the workmen and her family respected her request to stay out, they did start leaving more empty bags and boxes on the porch for her to use for carting two and a half decades' worth of garbage off the floors.

Haymitch slept through all of it, even the banging around as she washed the piled-up dishes in the kitchen. When she ran out of soap and knew she'd need something stronger for floors and walls, she finally decided to ask him. He must have some stored in here somewhere. "Haymitch? Haymitch, wake up." She repeated it, progressively louder, with a few cautious nudges, then finally shook him hard. "HAYMITCH!"

She should have seen his reaction coming. Prim had startled her awake more than once since she'd been home, and she'd screamed at full volume, lurching out of bed in terror.

With a guttural, animal growl, Haymitch lurched awake out of his chair faster than she'd ever seen him move. So she wasn't prepared for finding herself slammed backwards against the bottom cabinets with one of his hands at her throat and the other holding a knife inches from her face. She was too shocked to even yell.

For long seconds, his were the eyes of a stranger, and a deranged one at that, ready to slash her throat as easily as Cato would have done in the arena. Then awareness returned to them. With a gasp, he dropped the knife and released her, lurching back. "Katniss! What the fuck are you doing?!"

Slowing down her racing heart and panicky gasps, she stared at him for a long time before replying, "Looking for soap."

Chapter Text

Haymitch supposed it was inevitable that this ornery, stubborn girl would start interfering with his life. He protested her intrusion each time she returned to continue cleaning his filthy house.  She retorted, "Then lock your door."

He'd lost the key years ago. Not that anybody wanted to or would dare set foot in the place aside from Katniss. "If I did, you'd just come in through the window."

"You could always clean it yourself," she replied, without breaking the rhythm of scrubbing down his walls with some foul-smelling solvent.

"I think I can manage my own house, sweetheart."

"Obviously not." Katniss finally paused and met his eyes. "Besides, nobody comes looking for me here." 

She had a point. People still weren't willing to knock on Haymitch Abernathy’s door even to search out their wayward younger victor. So for the sake of his pride, he did a little work of his own on the place (always when she wasn't around so as not to give her the satisfaction) and let her dirty her hands if she wanted to. She would have far too much free time once her sister returned to school.

Once the house was cleaner than it had been since he first received it, she still hovered around looking for things to do, so he taught her chess. He could tell by her expression that she thought the game a little highbrow for him (or herself), and had her doubts about it, but at least it passed the time, and she had enough curiosity to try. 

She learned the basics quick, as he knew she would, and her novice style was predictable: she played fast and aggressive, not thinking ahead at all, falling right into his traps. She wouldn't always let him handicap himself, but had the brains to learn from mistakes. She slowed down, considered her options and his potential moves, but he suspected she'd never have enough patience to really be a master.

He hated reporters or curious onlookers peeking through his windows from the Victors’ Village green, but decided against closing the blinds when Katniss was there. The girl was target of enough gossip and unfriendly eyes. Better not to expose her to more speculation and stay visible there at the kitchen table over the chessboard, perfectly proper young victor and old mentor.

She'd changed, of course. Clara had been right to prepare Primrose for that inevitable truth: this was not the same Katniss Everdeen who'd left District 12. She was impatient and stubborn as ever, devoted to those she trusted, and suspicious of everyone else. But there was a brittle fragility to that hard outer shell now, and if Haymitch could sense it, those close to her definitely could. He saw the anxious way Primrose and Clara watched her, the confusion and worry in the younger Hawthornes, the intense eyes of Gale and Hazelle. They could all see she was hurting.

But not broken. He would not let himself believe otherwise.

To his surprise, he found that he himself had changed. Maybe it was just her constant presence at his house, retreating there from the bustle of her new home and the reporters with their prying questions, but he no longer spent the entire day drunk. He still drank plenty, but could nurse a bottle or two throughout the day. Sometimes Katniss kept his mind occupied with some long train of questions, but more often, they just played chess or sat at the table in silence.

She relaxed a little once they were settled into the new house and the reporters started to drift out of the district. Clara Everdeen smartly drafted her into helping build up her stock of remedies as Primrose resumed school. Haymitch could well imagine the woman hadn't managed to devote much time to it while Katniss was away in the Games.

"She did manage to save someone with a snakebite," Katniss told him one afternoon after taking over his big dining room table to sort piles of herbs. "Right when I was leaving for the feast." There was a funny pride in her voice that he couldn't place; many kids would be resentful that their parent had not been glued to the television screen during that time of peril. Yet Katniss seemed pleased that Clara had been able to turn her attention elsewhere.

Leafing through that remarkable plant book of Clara and Jacob's, Haymitch nodded appreciatively. "Good on her." He gestured to the little piles of leaves, bark, and roots. "So which did she use?"

Katniss frowned. "None of these as far as I know. I've never hung around for a snakebite treatment; it involves cutting." She shuddered. "And the strong factory painkillers." Her hand lingered on the small leaves that Haymitch knew were good for stings and allergic reactions - the ones that Rue had used on the tracker jacker stings and Katniss had tried to use to treat Peeta. Her breath grew uneven, and he tugged her up from her chair.

"Let's take a break and get some lunch."

Katniss's mother had informed Haymitch that he had a standing invitation to join them for any and all meals and any other time he wished, for that matter. He usually had to be dragged over by one of the family, but took advantage of it now to give Katniss a distraction and both of them a decent meal. He also took the offending leaves back. There was plenty for Katniss to work on that didn't have such painful memories attached. Clara recognized the problem with one glance and put the leaves away.

"Parcel Day is Sunday," she told them over sandwiches. "After that the last of the reporters should go." Katniss sighed wearily, and Clara rubbed her back. "That's a good day. I think you'll enjoy it more than any of the other celebrations."

Haymitch nodded, and Clara smiled at him. Parcel Day had hideous associations for him, but Clara and Katniss didn’t know that, and there was no call to taint it for them.  Clara suggested they participate from their old house in the Seam near their friends and neighbors. Bewildered, Katniss agreed.

Then the train whistle blew from town and Capitol attendants began to appear in trucks and carts, checking off names and handing out boxes. Katniss and many of the other kids too young to remember District 12's last victory flinched at the chaos that erupted in the streets but soon saw the cause.

A family near the Everdeens’ old house was chosen as the "example" to open their parcel on camera: a huge box that Gale Hawthorne had to help unload from the cart because the three kids were too little and the parents too worn and thin to handle it.

But how they gasped aloud at the bounty inside: food that would sustain a family of five in the best month they'd ever had, or more if they stretched it. The mother sobbed with joy and held the two girls and boy back as the attendant inventoried the parcel's contents with the father - in front of the cameras to show the Capitol's generosity to the winning district as well as its victor.

"Canned, preserved meat: twelve standard cans. One can will make a meal for an adult or two young children," said the attendant, a kindly-looking woman with few Capitol body mods other than wrinkle treatment and silver hair more metallic than natural. "Some beef, some pork, some chicken. These will store for years if you want to, but try to keep them dry. Twelve standard canned veggies, different kinds in there. Six of canned fruit."

One of the little girls began squealing over a can of pineapple. "We'll open that one tonight," the father promised, then turned inventorying over to the mother so he could approach the district's benefactress.

Haymitch moved a few steps away. Katniss blanched, but didn't retreat, and Clara and Prim pressed close to her sides. The miner, a thin, worn man aged early by mining and hunger, helplessly raised his hands, then seized both of hers. "Miss Katniss, I..." he laughed, shaking his head. "What can I say? What can any of us say?"

With brimming eyes, the girl tugged her hands free and simply embraced him. What she whispered in his ear was too low for Haymitch or the cameras to catch, and the miner held her tighter. Although they saw her tremble, he patted her back. "Now, now. He was a brave, generous boy, and you’ve done him proud, honey." He released her, and Katniss was still smiling and composed herself quickly as other Seam kids came running down the street to thank her.

The Hawthornes came to join them, Posy and Vick squabbling over a bag of candy until Gale took it away. Clara joined the group for embraces after they piled off Katniss. "Come have supper with us tonight. We'll celebrate."

"It's a date," laughed Hazelle, happier than Haymitch had seen her since her husband died.

"We need more bread, then," Katniss said abruptly. "I'll go pick some up." Haymitch took advantage of the others' hesitation to go after her. He wondered if she wanted to do this alone, but she surprised him by pulling close to his side and seizing his arm. He tucked her hand into his elbow.

At the bakery, the wife was nowhere in sight. The father was carrying their parcel upstairs to the family's living space, so the boys were manning the counter. Katniss ordered bread, Haymitch some cookies for the kids. Finally, as she handed over the money, she asked, "Did you get everything you needed?"

One of the brothers nodded. "Yeah. Thanks."

They all stared at each other. Katniss mumbled, "I…I don't…even know your names."

The older boy dropped his eyes. "I'm Miller. This is Tate. Peeta was the youngest."

Katniss stared down at the wrapped loaves on the counter and said nothing. The other boy, the middle brother, spoke up in a near whisper. "He was telling the truth about you. We all knew, even before the reaping."

"I know," she breathed. Haymitch took her hand again, feeling her trembling. "We miss him," she said.

Haymitch nodded confirmation, letting her fall back on him as needed. As if all this and her dead partner wasn't enough. His visits to the sweet shop after Maysilee’s death had been hell, but he hadn't been forced to show a dramatic romance. Katniss would probably never be able to sort out her own feelings for Peeta, so the knowledge that his had been genuine was just a twist of the knife.

Something else caught her eye as they left the bakery. She wouldn't say what it was, but after they dropped off the bread at her house, she took a basket and wandered off alone to the Meadow. That evening, along with dinner and fresh bread, they had dandelion salad.

The week after Parcel Day, the reporters finally left, and life in District 12 mostly returned to normal. The miners resumed their regular shifts, the kids their regular school. Katniss spent the week continuing to assist her mother with preparing her remedies and restocking supplies. On Sunday morning, she rose before dawn, packed a bag of cold chicken, bread, and oranges, and set off for the woods. 

Seeing Gale for the first time alone was all she had hoped for…at first. They hugged as she laughed and cried and hiccupped, ate breakfast in the empty old cabin, then marched out to hunt and forage.

They spoke of the present, of their plans, of the future, but almost nothing of the Games, apart from the fact that Greasy Sae had held a collection in the Hob to sponsor Katniss and Peeta. "I don't know how much it ended up being, but a lot of people contributed, even outside the Hob," Gale told her. "We did, of course. And kids in Posy, Vick, and Rory's classes did too. They brought money that they got from their parents."

"That's wonderful," Katniss said with feeling. She gave him a wry grin. "Nice save with the wild dog thing."

He chuckled. "That was actually my mother's great idea. I have no idea where she got it, but it made sense. We're just lucky Cray went along with it."

A reporter had put Katniss on the spot with a dangerous question that everyone should have anticipated sooner: "Where did you learn to shoot like that?!"

As Katniss stuttered and stammered, Gale had put in, "Her dad and mine used to be on the wild dog squad. We get them inside the fence sometimes, and if a Peacekeeper with a rifle couldn't be called in fast enough, it could get messy."

Peacekeeper Cray, either out of some strange generosity or just to save face (probably the latter) had nodded confirmation. "Since only a few of us carry guns, we've allowed a few citizens with bows to handle dogs or wolves. My predecessor started the practice when the district had a problem with rabid animals."  

Cray’s predecessor was conveniently dead and couldn't contradict that. Whether the explanation would pass in the long term was yet to be seen, although if the head Peacekeeper had signed off, they might just pass unnoticed.

"I haven't been able to get to the Hob yet with all the cameras around," Katniss mused. It was mid-afternoon by then, and she frowned. "At the rate we're going, I won't get there today."

"They understand; you'll have a chance later." Gale didn't say it, but they both knew Katniss was now a woman of leisure and would need things to occupy herself. "Is it true you cleaned Abernathy's whole house?"

She chuckled. "Yeah. It was pretty nasty, but it kept me busy and away from the reporters."

"There's 'bored,' and then there's 'desperate,' if you cleaned out that waste case's place by choice."

Katniss dropped the snare they were resetting, causing it to whiplash back and making Gale jump and curse. He stared at her as she glared at him. "Do not call him that, Gale. I owe that 'waste case' my life, in case you didn't notice."

Gale opened his mouth to retort, then caught himself and looked down. "Yeah, I did. Sorry. I spent a lot of time mad, watching you out there. It was easy to blame him for not helping you more."

"Whoever's to blame, it's not him.” She sat back and looked Gale in the eye. “Are you going to blame me next year?  I'm going to have to mentor too, have you realized that? Every year, two more tributes, from now until…until we win again."  She’d been trying to think about that as little as possible; every time she started, her stomach churned and she had to fight to not hyperventilate.

Gale cringed, a flush creeping over his dark skin. "I hadn't really thought about that."

She nearly blurted out to him all Haymitch had done in the aftermath: the primrose to stop her from suicide, his order for Lavinia to stay with her, his warning of the consequences of her enraged words against the Capitol. But she clamped her teeth down on it, and by silent assent, they dropped the subject.

Katniss transferred her game to Gale's bag, since they both knew she no longer needed it, and Gale allowed that even if he still wouldn't accept any of the money she had won. "You sure you don't want to come to the Hob?"

By that time, it was getting late. "I'd better not. Prim and my mother will start worrying. They could probably figure out where I've gone, but they're a little protective these days." Katniss chuckled at the reversal of their roles. As they climbed under the fence, and Gale helped her to her feet, she remarked, "During the week, I'll take care of the snares - "

Gale’s hands cupped her cheeks, and his lips came down on hers. She made a little noise of surprise, her hands against his chest for balance, but as he put one arm around her shoulders, memory cascaded through her head like a flood, and she lurched back with a louder cry and pushed his chest away. 

He gave her a look as if she'd spat in his face. Her breath came in stuttering, hitching gasps and she struggled not to burst into tears. His jaw clenched, and he muttered, "I had to do that at least once. But it's no good, is it?"

"I... Gale, I..."

"I was grateful to him, you know? It was the most amazing thing anyone could imagine, just letting go like that so someone else could have a shot at their life." His breathing was heavy now too, his voice rough. "But then I started realizing, between his sacrificing his life and the cousin thing, what chance do I ever have? How can I do anything that'll ever compare?" 

"Gale, it isn't that - "

He waved dismissively, no longer meeting her eyes. She sobbed, feeling utterly pathetic. "Okay, Katniss, I get it. I won't do it again." And he stalked off. 

Katniss tried to rally her scattered thoughts, tried to stumble after him, but caught her heel on something and ended up on her hands and knees, choking back more tears. Then she looked up and realized someone was coming out of the little clump of trees at the edge of the meadow, someone who had actually seen and heard this whole humiliating exchange. Gale didn't even seem to notice - until he was two feet away and realized it was none other than Haymitch.

Gale stopped in his tracks, and Haymitch paused for only a beat before letting loose a punch to the jaw that left Gale flat on his back. 

To Be Continued...

Chapter Text

Haymitch hadn't had a chance to argue when Primrose demanded he help her track Katniss down. She'd suspected her sister was off to the woods, but usually Katniss was home by this time. Haymitch was willing enough to help, but certainly hadn't signed on to intervene in Gale Hawthorne's romantic overtures.

Yet, after catching the tail end of that conversation, Haymitch's fist somehow did the talking. Primrose dodged around him without so much as a glance for the boy at his feet and ran over to Katniss, throwing protective arms around her shoulders. "What - why - " Katniss stammered, gaping at him. 

Gale slowly sat up, glaring daggers at him. Haymitch shook out his sore hand and nodded to Primrose. "Take your sister home, Little Bit. Sonny and I are going to have a little chat."

"What…Haymitch - " Katniss began, but Prim gave her a firm tug. 

"Come on, Katniss." She shot Gale a glare of her own, which did more to cow the boy than any spoken word. He stared mutely as the two girls walked away, Primrose supporting Katniss's shaky steps. 

Gale got to his feet once they'd gone and stood facing Haymitch. The older man waited as they both pondered how to proceed, but Gale Hawthorne was a lot like Katniss and broadcast his thoughts all too clearly. So when his lip curled and he finally got around to throwing a punch of his own, Haymitch was ready. He blocked it easily and kicked the boy behind the knees, knocking him flat again, and this time pinned him for good measure. 

"You and me are gonna talk, Hawthorne. How many bruises you get in the process is up to you," he said as the boy grunted and squirmed. 

"What's the matter, Abernathy? Think she's too good for the Seam now? Or d’you want her for yourself?" That got Gale yanked back upright and slammed hard against a tree. He was actually a little bigger than Haymitch and managed to kick free, but after trading a few more blows, Haymitch had him on the ground again. Hazelle would forgive Haymitch his temper. She'd deliver a few welts of her own if she ever heard Gale speak of Katniss that way - or any other girl, for that matter. 

His hand around Gale's throat, Haymitch remarked, "Impressive isn't it, how little Primrose there is looking after Katniss now? Remembering that reaping, you wouldn't think she had it in her." Gale stilled in confusion. Haymitch went on, "Had to be hell on her, watching Katniss in the Games. Funny how she's recovering better than another kid I remember at that reaping."

Breathing heavily from their brawl, but also his own memory, Gale muttered, "I'm surprised you remember that reaping."

Haymitch laughed out loud and sat down next to the fallen kid as if they were drinking buddies. "There's a lot that'll surprise you about me, Sonny."

"Don't call me that!"

Haymitch half turned and grabbed Gale's collar. "I'll call you anything I damn well please after that display, you little shit! That girl is trying to claw her way back out of hell and still resemble a human being, and you think this is the time to put the moves on her?"

"I wasn't putting the moves on her!"

"Yeah? That and a dose of shame for the road?"

"I wasn't..." Gale broke off and shuddered violently, pulling his knees up so he could rest his forehead on them. "I didn't mean..." The Hawthornes had brains, lucky for all concerned. Haymitch sat back and watched him work it out. Gale looked around as if searching for some answer, some justification in the grass. "I..."

He gave the boy a light shove. "You're the same as every other kid who watched someone go into the arena. You wanted her back, but it ain't that simple."

"I tried to tell her," Gale murmured, closing his eyes. "The day she left. Damn Peacekeepers shut the door in my face. I thought..." he turned toward Haymitch desperately. "I thought she was acting. In the arena."

Haymitch shrugged, pulling his flask from his hip and taking a pull. Good thing he'd managed to grab it on the way out the door. He'd need it since he was now meddling in teen romances. But, of course, that thought reminded him of Peeta and gave him a pang. He scrubbed his face. Gale hadn't managed to land a single physical blow. Not bad for an old waste case. 

He finally answered, "She was, after a fashion." He shot Gale a withering look. "You wanna take a few guesses at what kind of pressure it put on her? The loneliness of that place? Thinking she might get to go home with someone who'd lived through it with her? You think that was easy?"

"No."  The kid seemed to be shrinking.

"You think he was acting, in the end? What would the point of lying be once he swallowed those berries?"

Gale's face twisted, and he hunched forward and shook his head. "I saw him before. Long before the Games, watching her. Didn't really think anything of it. Now he'll be with her the rest of her life."

"Goddamn, you're selfish."

"FUCK!" Gale hurled a pine cone over the fence. "I didn't mean it like that!"

"'Course you didn't." Haymitch slapped him on the back. "Doesn't change the facts. 'Course you loved her, I saw how you were with her before the Games. But know this, Hawthorne, learn it and know it: that girl is gone." Gale looked sharply at him. Haymitch stared back, as bitter and uncaring as his "advice" to Peeta and Katniss once on the train. 

“Embrace the probability of your imminent death and know, in your heart, that there's nothing I can do to save you.”  

"The girl you knew is gone,” he repeated.  “Victor or not, that girl is as dead as every other kid who's ever set foot in that arena and not come home. Nobody leaves the arena. Not ever."

"Including you."

"Kaboom, he discovers the old man's great ‘secret’. Well done. Yes, including me, if you hadn't noticed that before, but I'm not the one you're trying to figure out here. You watch her?" Gale nodded. "Before the announcement of that so-called rule change, let me see... she got treed by the Careers, escaped only by killing two of them with a tracker jacker nest - that looked like fun business, didn't it? Got herself allied with a twelve-year-old, sweetest little thing, wasn't she?" Gale made a strangled noise and squeezed his eyes shut. "Remind you of anyone? Yeah, I know she did Katniss. And everything that came after that?" 

This was the first time he'd really discussed a Games with someone, let alone rubbed their nose in it. But he was damned if he was going to let Gale Fucking Hawthorne act like Katniss was some kind of tease for refusing a kiss barely a month out of the arena. Especially given the situation with Peeta, to say nothing of what the girl still had coming. 

"She's got stuff on her mind, Hawthorne. Do you get that?" Gale nodded violently, eyes still shut. "Call it a hunch, but I don't think her not being ready to kiss you has much to do with some decision to remain faithful to Peeta Mellark's ghost unto the great hereafter, you know? You think?" Another nod. Haymitch sighed and leaned back. 

When Gale spoke again, his voice was ragged. "Thresh. The guy from Eleven. When he died, it really upset her."

"Mm, so you do pay attention to what she feels. Good to know. Yeah, she had a hard time with it, I noticed it too. Decent kid, Thresh, a lot like us Seam brats. Peeta's not the only one she's mourning."

Gale seemed to have given up trying to punch Haymitch, so he punched the dirt instead. "Why're you telling me this?"

"For her."

"Why? "

Haymitch took another long drink. He saw Gale eyeing the flask and chuckled, passing it over. The boy took a smaller swig and handed it back before Haymitch answered. "'Cause you matter to her. And she'll need all the friends she can get. But you need to get this first: she's not the same and never will be. You want to be a friend to her, you need to face that."

"Never would've pegged you for dispensing wisdom, Abernathy."

"Yeah, well, as everyone in Twelve knows, I never brought anyone back from the arena to worry about before." He waggled the flask at Gale. "She's not drinking. Yet."

"Shit."

"It ain't over, Hawthorne. In some ways, it'll never be. She goes back with me next year, mentors our tributes, and some of 'em will die. Badly."

Gale's teeth bared, his breath coming in ragged gasps of fury, but his rage wasn't directed at Haymitch anymore. "Sons of bitches ."

"If she matters to you, start preparing yourself to help her. She'll need all the friends she can get to deal with what’s already past and what’s coming in the future. If you can't handle it, do her a favor and sign off now. Be one more weak brat who dumps a girl when he can't get in her pants." Gale jerked toward him with a snarl, but Haymitch caught the boy’s wrist before he'd barely moved it. "And for the record either way: you can call me any cheap name you want - I've heard worse. You talk trash about her again, and I'll rearrange that pretty face permanently." He pulled Gale towards him one more time and muttered very quietly in his ear, "Also, assume from now on that every word you say to her is being heard and recorded. Or any word you say to anyone else. This is life after the arena, kid. Get used to it or get the hell away."

With that, he released the boy, stood, and walked away without another word. Gale stayed where he was, and Haymitch suspected he would be sitting there for a long time.

Katniss woke the next morning with a thick head and feeling like the inside of her skull was full of fuzz. The violent nightmares hadn't visited her last night, but her dreams had involved terrible loneliness. The arena, of course, but instead of being hunted, she was searching desperately for someone in utter, crushing silence. 

She’d known Peeta was somewhere nearby and had the sense that he could hear her and was choosing not to answer.  Once or twice she had thought she heard a mockingjay and ran through the trees, singing and whistling and trying to get them to answer, but even the birds shunned her.

At least she woke to Prim in her bed. They had their own bedrooms in this ridiculously huge house - ridiculously huge rooms with ridiculously huge beds, with ridiculously huge and lovely carved wooden headboards and plush linens like the ones in the Capitol. Katniss hadn't been able to stir herself to get into her sister's bed since coming home, but Prim always seemed to wind up in hers. She couldn't seem to find a way to tell her sister how much easier it was to sleep with her here, but somehow Prim seemed to recognize it.

It was predawn, but given she'd fallen asleep only just after sunset, she'd actually slept pretty heavily. Had her mother given her sleep syrup? Yes, that was right. Well, at least she'd slept, although she was worried about getting into the habit of using that stuff.

Prim looked at her sleepily when she stumbled out of bed, but she murmured, "You've got another hour until you have to get up for school. Go back to sleep," and dragged herself to the bathroom.

It was still odd to have hot water available to pour straight from the faucet into the tub without heating anything up.  Apparently that was what the tank on the side of the house was for. Prim had been fascinated by the workmen's explanation of the thing. Katniss ran the water as hot as she could and scrubbed her face and hair, trying to scrub out the cobwebs that had taken over her mind.

As she was getting dressed, pondering a solitary trip into the woods, maybe all the way to the lake, there was a knock at the front door. She came downstairs to find her mother looking half-disgruntled (no doubt Prim had repeated what she'd overheard yesterday) and half-alarmed. Katniss quickly saw why: Gale was here - with his bow and quiver. "Can I talk to you?" he asked, seeing Katniss behind her mother.

She nodded. "Do you... why're you..." What the hell are you doing carrying your bow around the district?!

"Thom told me Peacekeeper Cray's going to want to see your bow. I thought I should bring it back, since I was only holding it while you were gone. I meant to do it before."

Katniss blinked at him for a minute, then put it together. This was Gale's bow, one of only a few she had left made by her father. Her own remaining bows were still hidden in the woods. So if Cray wanted to appear in control of the "wild dog hunting squad" and insisted on seeing the bow that District 12's victor learned to shoot with, or even confiscate it, the others remained. With a slow nod, she took Gale's bow and quiver back. "I'll bring it to him, then."

Gale cast a quick glance at her mother, then dropped his eyes. "I’ve gotta get to the mines; I'm already late. But would you... could we talk?"

She had to consider it a minute, then decided she might as well. She'd felt too drained and lost last night to spend any great time pondering who was right or wrong, although Prim had plenty to say. Better not have her blurt out her fury again, especially not when Gale might already have attracted attention with that bow. "Okay."

They weren't five steps outside the Victors' Village before he stopped in his tracks and turned to her. "Katniss, I'm so sorry."

"Gale," she began, but he reached out as if to grab her hand, then pulled back and raised his hands.

"No, please, listen. I was completely unfair to put pressure on you like that so soon. I'm really sorry." 

She forced herself to look him in the eye, then noticed the lumps on his face in the growing sunlight. She searched her rather blurry memory and muttered, "Haymitch hit you."

Gale shrugged. "I deserved it." She stared at him. He sighed. "Well, I did. For you and for Peeta and for him. I insulted about half the district."

Katniss gazed at the arrows in the quiver she was carrying, not slung over her back to keep from looking armed inside the fence. "The reason that I... it wasn't just about Peeta." Though just saying Peeta's name made her throat tighten. She coughed to clear it. "I can't... it's everything. The others, being the so-called victor. Having to mentor. I'm not ever marrying. I don't think I could ever have a boyfriend. I already..." She fought a surge of panic. "There's still so many people they could hurt, Gale," she whispered.

His eyes were intense, but not with shock. He gave her a small nod. "He told me. Is it because of," he dropped his own voice to a murmur, "what you said?" She nodded. He closed his eyes as the ramifications sunk in. "Yeah, I should've thought of that. I got worked over pretty good by your mentor."

It was like a knot was loosening in her chest.  Katniss felt herself smile and shook her head. "That's nothing. Prim said if Haymitch hadn't punched you, she was going to." 

The thought of Prim throwing a punch at anyone was bizarre enough to make him grin.  "So can you forgive your ol' cousin?" He gave her a sad, wry shrug. "I still want to be friends. And help, if I can."

It took a few moments to find her voice, but she nodded. "I'm glad. I'll take all the family I can get. Come on. I'll walk you to the entrance before I go see Cray." They went on in companionable silence, in relief that while neither she nor their relationship would ever be completely the same, maybe there was some part of their old closeness that could be salvaged and survive the Hunger Games and the aftermath. Gale even let her give him a few coins for himself and his team, since they'd be docked for his tardiness. That, they both knew, was a powerful concession on his part. 

A couple of Peacekeepers stared at her as she left the mine entrance, and one of them finally asked, "Uh, Miss Everdeen, what're you doing with that?"

Katniss held up the bow and arrows with what she hoped was an innocent expression. "The Head Peacekeeper asked me to bring them in. My cousins were holding them for me while I was gone." She winced internally, hoping that didn't implicate the Hawthornes in any wrongdoing. 

Peeta. You were always so much better at improvising than me. 

She was intensely relieved to see Darius heading in her direction. "Oh, good, you got his message. Yeah, he does need to register that you've got a weapon. That old wild dog squad needs to be formalized if it's going to be allowed."

"Should I go see him now?"

"Yeah, come on. He'll be in his office." They exchanged a quick, knowing look, and he escorted her to the Head Peacekeeper's house.

Cray apparently saw them coming and opened his door. "Ah, Miss Everdeen, morning to you! Glad you're out bright and early so we can get this taken care of." He beckoned her into the little office similar to the one in her new house, although even the Head Peacekeeper's place wasn't as lavish as the Victor's Village. "Want some breakfast?"

"No, thank you." She felt the first flutterings of nervousness. All the awkwardness with Gale had distracted her until now. Still, he and Darius had given her an opening; she had no choice but to take it and hope for the best. She laid the bow and quiver down on the desk. "These were my father's. He used to shoot down wild dogs or rabid animals that got through the fence, and he just taught me for fun." A lie, of course, and Cray knew perfectly well it was a lie. He bought wild turkeys from her and Gale all the time.

He smiled at her, although his smiles tended to make the hair rise on the back of her neck. She'd seen how he looked at young women in the district. With her winnings and public standing, she would never be available to him and doubted he would try when so many hungry young women were still offering themselves, but his eyes on her at all made her feel dirty. "I thought I remembered seeing Mr. Everdeen doing that. It's technically illegal, you understand. We're all very proud of what you accomplished, of course, but I need to make it clear to you that you can't carry this around the district."

"Oh. Do you have to take it, then?" she asked sadly. He knew she had others, but she suspected the conversation was being recorded. Talking this way would make them both look innocent.

"Since it's an heirloom, I've decided to allow you to keep it. It is your trademark, of a sort. But you need to lock it up safely and don't take it out unless there's an emergency. I wouldn't arrest you if you had to chase down a rabid fox or a dog pack with it, but otherwise, I'm afraid, no practicing in the meadow. We're very visible now that you're our victor, and we have to uphold the laws."

He spoke so formally to her. At the Hob, his voice was a weary, semi-drunken grunt depending on the time of day. That added to her suspicion that they were being recorded, but she couldn't deny that she owed him for not punishing her or even taking the bow. In fact, he'd given her a very clear warning to take extra care, not that it wasn't a conclusion she'd already reached.  Still, it was a relief knowing even the head law enforcer seemed to be on her side. She smiled as if just relieved to have hung onto her "heirloom." "Oh, thank you. And I promise, I'll be responsible with it."

"Very good. Have Darius walk you home in case anybody questions you, and keep these under lock and key at your house."

"Yes, sir. Thank you!"

After Darius returned her to the Village, she waited until after dark to carry the bow and quiver in her game bag out to the place where she knew Gale stored them, and put them back. 

That Sunday, they hunted again and sold Cray a turkey at a discount.

"He's a sleazy lecher, but his position here is pretty cushy. And he's lazy," Haymitch told Katniss during a "walk" (away from potential prying ears, human or electronic) when she relayed the encounter with Cray. "You handled it good."

"You think he'll hold it over me?" Katniss asked, examining a handful of plants she'd gathered in the woods with a nervous expression.

"I doubt it. Like I said, he's lazy. Blackmailing you would take too much effort and risk, especially when you've given him bragging rights. He can play off the ‘wild dog squad’ thing as just a backwater district making do with limited resources and a charming father-daughter bonding experience that made you a victor." He saw Katniss sigh. "Well, it's not that far off the truth, sweetheart."

"No, I guess not. Though Effie says archery can't be my victor's talent. I even thought about setting up some targets at the Harvest Festival like they had at the gym and doing a demonstration."

Haymitch shook his head and sat down on a tree stump. "Yeah, that'd be pushing it, I'm afraid. Remember," he lowered his voice. "You already make them nervous. Besides, Effie'll say it's not ladylike enough, and from what I've seen, she has a point. Female victors are expected to do something feminine."

Katniss rolled her eyes. "She said she'll give my mother a list of ideas. Madge Undersee offered to teach me piano."  

"You have a nice singing voice," Haymitch pointed out, but knew at once that wasn't an option. Katniss swallowed hard and shook her head, and the memory of her singing to a mortally wounded twelve-year-old was intense enough to make him cringe. He knew full well what it did to her. "No. Okay."

"What was yours?" she asked, genuinely curious.

He considered it for a moment, then mimed crocheting with his hands. "I made little doilies to put on furniture." She almost seemed to buy it for a second before she burst out laughing.

They considered herbology, since Katniss at least had plenty of knowledge if not the gift that her mother and sister possessed, but Effie vetoed that as well. "It should be something she can present during her tour that is at least somewhat artistic, Haymitch!" Effie admonished him during their phone call.

Katniss even pondered learning to bake in honor of Peeta, but the first time she and her mother attempted a simple bread, she broke down before they'd added all the ingredients. "Not a good idea," Haymitch informed Effie.

"I really think our problem is Katniss's lack of faith in herself," said Effie. "She doesn't need to be an immediate expert, just find some activity that she enjoys and is presentable!"

The girl could cook a decent meal, but nothing on the level the Capitol would demand. She did try her hand at piano lessons from the mayor's daughter, but it was obvious she lacked both knowledge and interest. There was also an unfortunate incident that had her hyperventilating over a piece called Flight of the Bumblebee , that sent her mind back to the arena and the tracker jackers before she even knew the title of the song. The Undersee girl was more understanding than most would be, making profuse apologies along with more sweet tea.

Katniss made another attempt at music via the flute - a borrowed one from the school, figuring she could buy one if it took. She did spend the money - for her sister. Primrose had no shortage of artistic and musical ability, it seemed.

Their official line was that Katniss didn't have the artistic eye for arranging flowers. The truth was more complicated. She could, in fact, make very pretty and simple arrangements of the wild flowers that dotted the district's woods and meadow. But there too, her mind slipped away, haunted and tortured by the image of a twelve-year-old girl for whom she'd arranged other flowers. Haymitch told Effie it didn't take.

They were all relieved when Cinna stepped in to suggest clothing design. That would be perfectly suitable, Effie gushed, and Haymitch agreed, privately mulling that such a "day talent" would work well with the night job she would soon have.

Katniss actually did make an effort to make some contribution to the talent. She found a book in the town's one small shop on dressmaking and bought a sketch pad and pencils. She and Cinna considered hiring out a space with one of the local clothing makers. They decided that would be too involved, shipping sketches, cloth, and half-finished garments back and forth to the Capitol.

"Rather, why not ask for basic lessons?" Cinna suggested. "It'll give you something to occupy your mind and let you speak on the subject by the time the tour rolls around. I'll send you a few simple outfits to have made in town. Pick the best seamstress or tailor you can, and ask to watch."

Haymitch was surprised, but pleased, to see Katniss approach the Parsons, who sold clothing to both merchants and Seam. He was more surprised when she asked him to come along. While she spent her newfound wealth freely and generously at Hob and legal market alike, there was no escaping the long stares of the merchants and their children who had been Peeta's friends. As much as he knew that Katniss would one day have to face their scorn, their accusation when a child in her charge didn't come home, he would do all he could to avoid her facing that on the part of Peeta.

Peeta himself would have been outraged by such a thing.

So he accompanied her, silent but protective, when she knocked on the Parsons' door to make her proposal. The father, Birch, opened the door. "Miss Katniss!" The whole district seemed to have settled on that as acknowledgement of her new status.

Katniss awkwardly explained her mission, and Birch led them to the work rooms in the back of the shop. Haymitch knew the wife, Alice, and the two girls, neither of whom were old enough to be reaped yet. But then Alice gestured to the third girl in the room. "And you know my niece, Delly, don't you?"

He'd forgotten that Alice Parson was Delly Cartwright's aunt. Apparently, so had Katniss. But the blond girl's smile was as unreserved as ever, although it made Katniss look still more standoffish by comparison. "It's wonderful to see you, Katniss! How have you been?"

"Er... all right," she mumbled. "You?"

"Fine. As you can see, I'm apprenticing with my aunt and uncle. I seem to do better with cloth than shoe leather."

Haymitch stepped in. "Maybe you can show your new victor the ropes, then. Katniss got inspired by her stylist up in the Capitol, wants to learn some of it."

Alice Parson looked sheepish. "Well, nothing we can make is anywhere near as exotic as what you'll find in the Capitol, I'm afraid."

Katniss relaxed enough to reassure them. "That's all right. I should learn to make things out of muslin before ruining silk, anyway." She held out the sketches Cinna had sent. "This is my first - well, it's mostly my stylist's, but he said it would be a good one to learn on."

"Oh, yes, nice basic elements," Alice mused, examining it. "Can you sew at all?"

"A little, to put on a patch or fix a hem," she replied.

Haymitch decided to bow out. "I'll leave you to talk shop, then."

By the time the victory tour rolled around, Katniss felt like she had regained some equilibrium. Or at least she had settled into some sort of routine. She still felt strangely disconnected, now an ill-fitting part of District 12 where once she'd fit in so easily, even if life had never been simple or comfortable. She changed into her hunting gear at the old house in the Seam and hunted game and set the snares. The Hawthornes still got the meat and plants she harvested, apart from a few plants she reserved for her mother's supplies and the occasional turkey for Cray.

She spent several hours every week at the Parsons' shop learning to make clothes. Alice and Birch Parson and their family were too nice to admit that she obviously had no real talent, but she could at least identify different types of stitches and fabrics. With their patient assistance, Katniss cut and sewed together a simple top and skirt. She did have fun using the sewing machine, although it was difficult to keep the rhythm of the pedals and moving the fabric under the needle. 

The first time she punctured a finger, Delly Cartwright laughed and told her, "Now you've been initiated!"

She helped her mother with her remedies when Prim was at school and updated their plant book. Haymitch drank, and she stubbornly insisted on keeping his house clean, which she found had more impact in getting him to moderate his boozing than nagging or threats ever would. He rarely vomited or passed out any more, but she also kept a cache of bottles at her own house in case supply ran out. They played chess and he taught her some card games. 

They bought bread and baked treats from Peeta's father and brothers. Katniss tried to give the baker free squirrels, but he refused to accept them as gifts, so she swapped the squirrels for bread.

They never talked about Peeta. But he drifted in Katniss’s mind, constantly hovering on the edges of her thoughts,sometimes almost visible in the corner of her eye. He was even stronger in her dreams. Sometimes he baked her bread and cheese buns and talked and laughed as if nothing was wrong. Other times he gazed reproachfully as she wept and begged him to forgive her for being alive when he was dead. 

In her dreams, she could never seem to remember that he had died by his own hand and his own choice. She pleaded and apologized and sometimes couldn't even remember what she was apologizing for.

Tour day arrived with a mixture of dread and nervousness and the first good freeze of the season. Katniss got up early and went into the woods, mostly for a last respite before the cameras descended again. Gale and the other Hawthornes weren't on the list of people accompanying her to the train station. She'd asked them not to come.

"This is enough of a farce," she had told Gale the previous Sunday. "I just want to get it over with."

"I can't blame you for that," he’d admitted. "At least the food'll be good, right?"

She’d laughed. "It's something. And I'm looking forward to seeing 'my' clothing designs. It is nice getting to spend time talking with Cinna."

"So did you actually make anything?"

Katniss had shrugged. "A shirt, a few skirts. Skirts are easy. But at least I can identify hems and pattern pieces and sound somewhat like I know what I'm talking about. The Parsons have been really nice; they never tell me to my face I'm awful."

When she couldn't put it off any longer, she headed back to the Victors' Village to get ready for the tour's departure. She woke Haymitch up without too much difficulty and arrived at her house to find her mother pale-faced. Someone had already arrived. But not Cinna, Effie, or the prep team:

President Snow.

To Be Continued...

Chapter Text

Katniss stood in the study doorway, staring mutely at President Snow, not moving a muscle as though he were a dangerous animal. He gazed at her, then glanced past her at the attendant still stuck at the door behind her since she hadn't come all the way into the room. "Come in, Miss Everdeen."

She took no more steps into the room than strictly necessary. Even that felt like a mistake as the door closed behind her; she had cut off the clearest means of escape or retreat. So she braced herself and waited for him to make the first move.

After a long, painful silence, he said, "I think we'll make this whole situation a lot simpler by agreeing not to lie to each other. What do you think?"

Her mind reeled, but somehow a response worked its way out. "Yes, I think that would save time." She winced inwardly. That sounded flippant, and worse, it made him smile at her with those creepy, overly full lips. 

She was relieved when he spoke again and stopped just staring at her. She felt like a mouse looking into the eyes of a snake. "My advisers were concerned you would be difficult, but you're not planning on being difficult are you?"

"No." Even though you murdered Peeta Mellark and twenty-two other people . That thought slipped out before she could check it.

"I didn't think so. As distraught as you were at the end of the Games, I rather doubted you would ever have gone through with taking your own life after going to such lengths to preserve it. Nor would you be eager to bring down retribution on your family, your mother and sister, and all those ... cousins ." Katniss managed not to flinch, but she could tell from his tone that he knew she was no blood relative of Gale's. "Let's sit."

She moved automatically to the chair opposite the desk as if this was his study and not - technically - hers. "Your outburst at the end of the Games caused a problem, Miss Everdeen. While I have no doubt you were genuinely distressed by Peeta Mellark's death, I am not the only person aware of your actual indifference to him."

"I was not indifferent!" she blurted.

"Perhaps not, but you were not nearly so taken with the young man as you led the Capitol to believe. Perhaps it's for the best that he did not live to realize that." That cold, puffy smile was back. She was torn between rage and disgust... and grief again. "Still, there are those in the districts who recognized your words as not merely the product of grief for a lost love, but as a genuine condemnation of the Hunger Games and the Capitol. And if a girl from District 12 can defy the Capitol and walk away unscathed, what's to stop the rest of the districts from doing the same? What's to prevent, say, an uprising?"

Katniss blinked at him, trying to keep up with not just what he was saying outright but also implying. "There have been uprisings?"

"Not yet. But if I permit your actions to pass, it will only increase the likelihood. Your stylist's choice of wardrobe has proven prophetic. Katniss Everdeen, the girl on fire, may have provided a spark that could destroy all of Panem."

Haymitch had warned her. Even if he hadn't, the looks Snow had shot her back in the Capitol had served as warning enough. Now all she could do was wait for the axe to fall and hope she could contain the retribution to herself. "Then why don't you just kill me?"

"Publicly? That would only add fuel to this fire you have kindled."

"Then make it look like an accident." Please, just take me. Just kill me and be done with it . You might still be doing me a favor . I’d finally get to leave that arena.

"Who would believe that? Not you, if you were watching."

"Then just tell me what you want me to do," she said, images of her mother, of Prim, Gale, Haymitch, and half the district flashing before her eyes.  "I'll do it.  I’ll do anything."

The look he gave her told her at once that he had her precisely where he wanted her. She wondered if the threat of uprisings was really so serious or if he was simply playing with her. The smile that curved his puffy lips confirmed it. “‘Anything,’ Miss Everdeen?"

What have I done? She had a feeling she'd be back to wishing herself dead in a moment. But she nodded. 

"Very well, I will give you my terms for your safety - and that of your family, friends, and district, of course." President Snow dropped his smile briefly, and it somehow made her want to jump. "Because I assure you, Miss Everdeen, there are many, many lives at stake here. All you hold dear depends upon your cooperation."

She swallowed thickly, her throat as dry as when she'd searched for water those first days in the arena. "I'll cooperate." It came out as barely a whisper. Why did that matter to her? His entire intention was to terrorize her; she should be doing everything she could to act as if he were succeeding. But some vestige of pride still simmered in fury at it.

"Very well. Victors are visible, starting with the Victory Tour, then again when they return to the Capitol as mentors in future Hunger Games." Katniss nodded. "You will be sought-after, I have no doubt. You're an attractive young woman, despite the tragedy associated with your victory. Many eyes and cameras will be on you."

"So I won't say anything…anything against the Capitol and the Games ever again," she said. But she knew it would end up being more than that.

She was right. "That's not sufficient, I'm afraid. Oh, I have no doubt that you would not dare defy the Capitol or denounce the Games again, given the stakes I have already pointed out to you. But when your attractive presence is requested at events in the future, your participation - enthusiastic, of course - will be expected."

Something very cold settled in her stomach. There was a vague familiarity in the way he remarked on her attractiveness. It made her think of Peacekeeper Cray.

Cray and his habit of taking desperate district women to his bed as the price for their survival.

President Snow smiled again. The realization of what he was demanding must have shown on her face. "I think we understand each other, don't we?"

She swallowed. It took several tries for her voice to work. "You want me to... sell myself." She didn't bother to phrase it as a question.

His smile took on a patronizing look, as if he were trying to soften the blow, which she was certain he wasn't. "Well, that's a harsh way to put it. You will be expected to entertain in the Capitol when you're there, but it's hardly a one-sided trade. You will find that patrons can be quite generous with victors willing to grace their social events with their presence. After all, you do have sponsorships for your tributes to consider."

Her mind wandered now to images of the Capitol that she had seen in Games coverage over the years. Young, attractive victors on the arms of the Capitol elite, laughing, doing interviews, decked in silks and jewels, some with ridiculous differences in age and appearance. "How can I do that during the Games?" she asked desperately.

"Oh, the schedulers are quite adept at arranging events so that they don't interfere with victors' mentoring responsibilities."

Of course, even if they did, you wouldn't care, would you? She stared at the shiny surface of the desk, no longer able to stand his eyes. He didn't seem to be interested in her that way himself. That was the one shred of hope she could manage to find in this. 

Apparently she stayed silent too long, which let him think she was contemplating refusing. "Of course, I know this may seem shocking to a girl of your provincial sensibilities. But you will get used to it. However, I should point out there would be serious ramifications if you refused, for all those close to you. Even if you arranged an... accident of your own, I'm afraid I would have no choice but to regard that as an act of defiance and respond with the harshest punitive measures possible against the entire district." She lifted her head sharply at that. He had dropped any pretense. "My hand can be forced, Miss Everdeen, but that hand is a hard one."

Her shoulders hunched. She dropped her eyes again. "I'm not refusing."

So this was what it came down to. Katniss Everdeen, the girl who was on fire, the surviving star-crossed lover of District 12. Capitol prostitute.

Whore .

"I'm glad that you can be reasoned with," he said, returning to that falsely-gentle tone. "But, you realize that you can hardly act as devastated as you are at this moment. As I said, your participation will have to be enthusiastic if you wish me to uphold my end of this bargain." She nodded, a strange, jerky up and down of her chin. "Very good."

"Do I... on the Victory Tour?" 

He smiled more openly, and she managed not to cringe. The chairs in the study were meant for someone taller than she was, and she felt as if she'd been shrinking progressively as this conversation had gone on. "During the tour, you'll have the opportunity to begin preparing yourself for the lifestyle we expect you to adopt. Your mentor will be informed, as will your stylist, and they will adjust their plans for you accordingly."

So Haymitch and Cinna will know my new job is to sleep with people and dress me that way . Her stomach lurched. President Snow went on, "You will be assigned to a new mentor of sorts during the tour, another victor who is familiar with this role and who can educate you on the expectations of your patrons and the image you must present. You will find that this arrangement has certain advantages. As I said, you have sponsorships to consider."

Selling my body to sponsors to save my tributes. Not so different from Cray and the women here . "How long do I have to do this?" she murmured.

"As long as there is interest. It will wane, as you grow older, although if you make any effort to discourage interest, I will regard that as a refusal." She shook her head. "I'm glad you're taking this well. I think you can adapt to it. As I said, you'll find the Capitol can be very generous to its victors."

Generous . She forced her head up again and met his eyes. "Then..." She made herself say it before she lost her nerve. "Can I ask for something now?"

He raised his eyebrows, but he seemed more amused than anything else. Good. If he thought she was being defiant or wrangling with him, he'd probably decide to prove just how powerless she was by killing someone. "Speak, Miss Everdeen."

"My sister," she whispered. 

"Ah, yes, young Primrose. Your reason for living in those first sad days after your lover's death. Very touching. What of her?"

"She still has five more years of reapings. Will she be safe?"  If you're as powerful as you claim, you can keep her name from even being in the reaping ball . 

Snow raised his hands matter-of-factly. "It's often necessary for us to manipulate reapings to achieve a particular result." She wasn't surprised. "The Capitol leaves little to chance. So you want my assurance that your sister will never be reaped?" 

Katniss nodded. He smiled broadly. She managed not to shudder. "Your enthusiastic participation in Capitol entertainment will guarantee your family's safety, including your sister's. She will still have to appear at the reapings to avoid the appearance of impropriety, but I can give you my word of her protection."

And his word was undoubtedly all she would get. "Thank you," she mumbled.

"Not at all. As I mentioned, we've had to manipulate reapings before. Why, at these most recent ones, it was determined that it had been too long since a twelve-year-old was selected." Katniss blinked. "Therefore, many younger entrants, including Primrose Everdeen, had additional entries placed in the ball to increase those odds. Such a shame that her sixteen-year-old sister volunteered for her. Had she been chosen as tribute for District 12, the additional entries would not have been in District 11's reaping ball, and it's quite likely that Rue Crawford would not have been selected."

Katniss couldn't breathe. Snow's puffy lips had formed a smirk, reminding her of just how dangerous it was to try to bargain with the Capitol. He rose and walked around the desk, having apparently said his piece. He leaned over to speak in her ear, the smell of blood of his breath mixing with the stench of enhanced rose perfume. "The Capitol can be generous with you, Miss Everdeen. Make certain that when you visit, you are equally generous with us." 

And then the door clicked shut behind him.

Haymitch knew the axe had dropped when Clara showed up on his doorstep, white-faced. "Haymitch, something's happened. President Snow was here." 

He sighed and scrubbed at his face. And so it begins . "Where is she?"

"In the study. She won't tell me what..."

Of course not. Where would she even find the words? 

"Haymitch, what's going to happen?" Clara looked on the verge of collapse herself. "Are they going to..."

He put a hand on her shoulder and steered her back towards their house. "Nothing that simple, I have a feeling. I'll talk to her. You calm down." Katniss would need everyone to keep their wits about them. 

He left Clara to potter nervously around their kitchen and went to the study. Katniss was kneeling in front of the fireplace, gazing at the fire with fascination like a morphling addict. 

"Sweetheart?" He knocked on the doorframe.

Katniss turned her head slowly to stare at him, and it was all he could do not to wince. The question was plain on her face even before she asked it. "Did you know?"

Haymitch sighed. "Let's get some air." He crossed over and pulled her to her feet, ushered her out of their house in silence. He saw Clara watching them from the window but kept Katniss going. She stumbled several times, and he had a feeling she would drop if he didn't keep a firm grip on her. 

They went where he steered her, away from her usual haunts of the meadow and her regular entry point into the woods, to a grove of trees behind the Victors' Village on the opposite side from the town. He could never be certain how thick the district was with Capitol cameras, but at least they wouldn't run into any people around here. This was where he tended to go when he walked alone.

"I knew he'd threaten you after the way those Games ended." He waited, letting her choose how to broach the subject of Snow's demand.

But to his surprise, that wasn't what was foremost on her mind. "Did you know about Prim and Rue?"

"What?" He'd thought Snow was predictable in his chosen torments, but apparently there were ways they could still surprise. He had no idea what Katniss was talking about.

Katniss looked at him. Her eyes, gray like his, were dead and hopeless. This was not just about the role she would be expected to play. "They wanted a twelve-year-old," she murmured. His stomach lurched. "So they rigged the reapings. They only needed one, but I volunteered for Prim." Her voice rose in pitch, horror filling her features. "So they rigged Eleven. Rue..."

She dropped to the ground, and Haymitch had just enough time to pull her braid out of the way as she started to heave. FUCK! He could do little more than pat her back as she brought up her breakfast. "It's not your fault, sweetheart. None of what happened in there is your fault."

"He's going to sell me," she croaked. He closed his eyes. So the bastard broke the news and then gutted her with the bit about the reapings for good measure. "He said he'll hurt them, kill them. If I don't... do what he wants." She looked desperately at Haymitch. "Will he?"

Would you thank me if I'd left you in the arena to die? Aloud, he replied, "Yes. He'll kill to prove he's serious, and he'll kill to punish. He doesn't bluff." For all he claimed they were to punish me, I'm starting to wonder if he starts out that way for everyone just so we know he's serious.

Katniss huddled in a miserable heap next to him. He considered telling the rebellion to get fucked if they couldn't spare her this. They had no right to demand she risk more when she was already stripped of so much.

But then something happened. Those gray eyes focused, and she got to her feet, wandered over to a creek that ran towards the woods, and washed her mouth out. Haymitch joined her, curious about the now-intense way she was staring at him. "What?"

Her voice was suddenly steady again. "Where's your family, Haymitch?"

If Gale Hawthorne in all his nineteen-year-old well-muscled fury had landed a punch directly to the ribs, Haymitch mused, it would feel like this. It rendered him completely unable to speak.

"I'm sorry," Katniss whispered. "But I need to know what I'm walking into. You've been a mentor for decades. What'd he do?"

He drew a slow breath, looking away from her but kept a hand on her arm. She did have a right to know now that Snow was putting his claws into her, and Haymitch wouldn't be the one to deny her. "You're plenty smart enough to work it out. Yes, he killed them. They were all dead the first Parcel Day: my mother, my younger brother, my girl."

"That soon," she murmured. He felt her hand cover his. "So he didn't..."

"Put me up for sale? No, he did, but I was damaged goods pretty early on. And I was too 'provincial' for most Capitol circles. Most of the time."

He felt her trembling. "Even though your family was gone?"

"If Primrose and your mother were gone, would he still have people to hold over you?"

Katniss shuddered, then yanked off her jacket and began washing her face and hands in the cold stream, ignoring the snow still falling. "He said the whole district."

"Believe him."

She stared down at the fast, shallow water. "He said Cinna will have to style me. As a whore. I'll even have a new mentor for it."

"I'll talk to some people. See if I can get you someone..." Good? Skilled? Sympathetic? "Someone you can trust."

"How common is this, Haymitch?"

"If the victor is attractive, it's very common. Sweetheart," he tugged her back from the water. "I know it's not so simple here, but in the Capitol, the other victors all know. They won't judge you. It's been done to almost all of us at least once."  The most attractive victors would be sold for decades, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to tell Katniss that now.

"He talked about being generous," she muttered, her mouth twisting in disgust. "I asked if he'd promise not to reap Prim." That impressed Haymitch. Even terrified out of her mind, she'd had the guts to set a term of her own. "He gave his word that she won't be reaped, but then he told me about Rue..." She looked away and sobbed. "He might choose someone else next year."

Haymitch sighed. "That isn't your fault. Not Rue, not the next reapings. If nothing else, Snow’s word is usually good. Your little sister is their golden goose. They'll protect her to keep you in line."

Katniss broke down and cried then. He resumed patting her back and muttering meaningless assurances. She needed to get this out of her system. Better now before the cameras arrived.

"We can't tell Prim and my mother that I'm a..."

"Katniss, you're going to be visible. They'll figure it out."

"I can't just tell my mother and little sister that I'm being sold for sex! They would... it would..."

"Your mother and sister will recognize you're under duress and only doing it to keep others safe. You can't isolate them from everything, sweetheart."

As the tears wore down, bitterness was setting in fast. "Gale would be so disgusted."

"You don't need to tell everyone, and if he even looks at you wrong, I'll break his jaw." Katniss looked startled, and Haymitch had to admit he'd startled himself with the vehemence of it. He went on, "But I doubt he will if you do tell him. He's protecting a family too."

"Will they reap someone else close to me? Because I asked them to save Prim?"

"Maybe," he admitted. There was no point in trying to spare her anymore. Reality was only going to get uglier; she might as well have fair warning when possible. "It may be enough that you know he could." Her face crumpled again. He grabbed her shoulder hard to get her attention. "Sweetheart. Rue was not your fault. Your sister would have died in the arena; there's no question of that. You had no way of knowing they wanted to slaughter a twelve-year-old that year, and even if you had known, it still would have come down to your sister’s life. You could never have let her go, and you did the one thing you had the power to do. So they decided to find another little kid to sacrifice, and we both know it blew up in their faces. District 11 wouldn't blame you even if they knew."

"Will they blame me when they see me swanning around the Capitol with rich men?" He didn't answer that. Katniss eyed him, then frowned to herself. "Is Finnick Odair another one?"

Shit, you're quick. Haymitch said slowly, "He's a friend of mine." She raised her eyebrows; of course, that wasn't an answer, so he sighed. "You want my story, I'll tell you, not that it's pleasant. But the others you'll have to ask. Their stories are theirs to tell."

She didn't bridle at that, and he caught the appreciation that the same discretion would apply to her. And she even mustered a weary smile. He fancied she'd aged twenty years in the past hour. "Thanks, Haymitch."

He stood and held out a hand to pull her to her feet. "Preps'll be here soon. Let's get you home. Want me to talk to Cinna?" She paused and considered it. "He's a smart man. He'll understand better than you think."

To Be Continued...

Chapter Text

Back at the house, Haymitch fed Katniss’s mother a story that Snow had indeed threatened her, but as long as she behaved on the Tour, it would be fine. 

Katniss’s recent tears were still in evidence when the prep team arrived, but Haymitch had a story for them as well: "Just a little meltdown this morning. Best to get her feelings about Peeta out in private beforehand so it doesn't depress the Tour."

"Ohhh!" Octavia wailed, forgetting all about eyebrows and fingernails, and Katniss found herself embraced from three directions. "Poor Katniss! Your heart's still broken!"

Over Flavius's orange curls, she mock-glared at Haymitch, but he just shrugged and grinned. At least their melodrama was funny. She dearly needed something to laugh at. They piled off her, and she assured them she already felt much better. "I got it out of my system." If only I could.

Cinna arrived and set out "her" clothes and sketches in the living room. He and Haymitch took a brief walk around the village green while Katniss got primped by the preps. She didn't even mind their strange chatter over inane topics; it distracted her from imagining the conversation taking place outside. As the team finished her hair on the guidance of Katniss's mother, Cinna knocked on the bedroom door.

"Come in! What do you think?" asked Venia.

Cinna's eyes were warm as ever, and a lump rose in Katniss's throat. He knew. Is it beneath you to design clothes for a prostitute?

That was a stupid thought, of course. She knew Cinna wouldn't judge her for what Snow was forcing her into, and his hug told her that his opinion of her was unchanged. "Can I see the clothes you made?" he asked with a mischievous smile.

"Oh, yes!" Venia squealed, missing Katniss's horrified expression. "Cinna said you were taking lessons from a seamstress; we want to see!"

Well, even mortification on a mundane topic was an improvement over the terror and disgust that had filled her since this morning, and she playfully groaned. "Come on, it can't be that bad," Venia urged.

Katniss gave her most dramatic sigh, making them all giggle. "All right, but don't say I didn't warn you!" She went to the elegant wood chest that was still only half full and pulled out two skirts and a simple blouse. The blouse was little more than a muslin mock-up, but people in the Seam had worn worse. It already looked pretty worn since practically every stitch and buttonhole had been ripped out and redone at least twice. The first skirt was linen and its few technical elements were correct, but whether it would survive hard wear was doubtful. The tweed skirt showed some improvement. It would be good for wearing in colder weather, and at least it looked like it fit. Still… "I know, they're awful."

"Oh, chin up, Katniss, in the Capitol, you'll have skilled tailors to handle these details,” said Effie. “And there's always a learning curve.”

"The curve is just a lot steeper for me," Katniss muttered. Still, the sketches and outfits and bolts of cloth made a good setting, and she was made to bob around reading chirpy comments about the clothes and her plans to add to her line. It was a relief when they released her to film the clothes in peace.

Cinna joined Katniss in her room and made some adjustments to her makeup palette. When she looked in the mirror, she found that she looked less girlish, although not provocative. Older. "I wonder if I should switch your departure outfit to something more sophisticated."

Katniss flinched hard, and Cinna realized what he'd implied. "No, huh? Well, you're still a girl. We'll let you look like one in your district."

He squeezed her hand, and she fought back tears again, if for no other reason than that her makeup would have to be redone. It didn't help that Prim kept turning into Rue in the corner of her eye.

Rue, who I didn't save. Rue, who was chosen because I volunteered for Prim. Rue, whose life I traded for my sister's.

And now Prim will see her sister turn into a Capitol prostitute.

Good thing Peeta didn't live to see this.

One bright spot about the cameras and chaos of the tour's departure was that the Parsons were on the list, so Katniss had the chance to introduce them to Cinna and Effie. Cinna spent half an hour talking shop with them and made a date to visit their workshop when the tour returned. Effie admired the embroidery that Jessamine, the oldest daughter, did and told Katniss, "We'll pick up some good thread for them in District 8."

She grinned. "Good plan. Money isn't enough for them having to put up with me."

"Don't be stupid; they like you for reasons that have nothing to do with patronage. You can make friends, Katniss," said Cinna.

At Haymitch's suggestion, Cinna took Katniss out for "some air" during the train's first fuel stop after dinner.  She turned back to him as they reached the back of the train where they wouldn't be overheard. "So he told you?" Cinna nodded. She searched his eyes. "Did you know this would happen?"

Cinna sighed. "I suspected," he admitted. "And you're wondering why I didn't warn you?" Unable to speak around the lump in her throat (she'd lost count of how many times this had happened today), she nodded. Cinna said, "The truth is, cowardice mostly." She blinked. "You were already in so much pain when you came out of there. I wanted you to live, Katniss. We'd already lost Peeta. I was all for it when Haymitch came up with the idea of the primrose corsage. I've lived in the Capitol long enough to know what happens to attractive victors, but if I had told you then, I was afraid you'd lose all will to live even to see Primrose again. I just couldn't bear that."

Katniss couldn't deny he had a point. Even now, she felt an intense desire to just run. Run and live in the woods, or run and find a way to die. Letting her mind travel into the possibilities of the life President Snow had described made her skin feel like it was covered in maggots. She wanted to scream from sheer revulsion at those thoughts.

"How do I get through this?" she whispered.

"The same way I've seen you get through everything. Don't give up. Keep moving. I know that's easier said than done right now. Just remember there are people who care for you.”  He pulled her against him. “You're loved, Katniss Everdeen, and nothing that the Capitol forces on you will change that.  But I'll remain your stylist - as long as you want me to, that is."

"Yes!" she choked out, and clung to him. He stroked her hair and let her cry. "You're one of the only people I trust," she told him when she wound down enough to talk again.

"Thank you. Believe me, I know earning your trust isn't easy. I'm honored." He pressed his forehead to hers. "It's a conundrum, and I didn't fully realize it," he admitted. "To make a tribute attractive and memorable can draw sponsors and save her life. But then... you see? For what it's worth, I'm sorry. For any role I had in bringing this about."

Having cried openly for the second time today, she finally felt calmer and in control. "Don't apologize for that," she said, and meant it. "You may well have saved my life." She grinned weakly and wiped her face. "I don't even like clothes, but I love yours."

He laughed. "Well, you'll never make a master seamstress, but you don't give yourself enough credit. You're proud and imposing; you impress people. You impressed me the first day I saw you, and that was before I had a chance to put a garment on your back."

"Will impressing people come in handy?" she sighed as they started back towards the train.

He gave her a look of determination. "I have a few ideas."

Katniss had a strange dream that first night on the train.  She went back to the arena, but she ran there as if fleeing some other place where she wanted to be even less.  The other tributes murmured in concern as she ran past them towards Peeta, who sat painting by the lake again, but no one followed her.

Seeing her coming, he put down his brushes and stood up in alarm.  “ Katniss!  What is it? ” She threw herself into his arms and sobbed out the day’s events.  Peeta held her and murmured, “ Oh no…oh my god, I’m so sorry. ”

“ I don’t want to do it! ” she wailed.  “ Don’t make me do it! ”

“That monster has no right to do that to you, ” Peeta growled.  But with a reluctant sigh, he held her back at arms’ length.  “ You can’t give up.  Not even for this. ”

Katniss shook her head desperately and felt the other tributes coming up behind her.  Their hands touched her shoulders, her arms, but she didn’t look around.  She could tell they were all trying to comfort her.  “ You promised to live for us, Katniss.  You have to fight for your family and your friends.  You have to fight for us.”

“How can I fight for anyone when I’m a Capitol whore?” she demanded.

“ You won’t be alone.  And you’re stronger than anybody in the Capitol can ever imagine.   You’ll light them all on fire. ”

Katniss jerked awake to the gentle rocking of the train car.  She opened the curtains to find that the sun was just up, hitting the autumn leaves in the low hills just so that they seemed to be on fire in reds, golds, oranges, and rich browns.  She vaguely remembered that Peeta’s painting in the dream had been autumn colors too.

She sat there in her bed watching the sun flashing over the hills and leaves, like waves of precious metals.  At one point, the sun deflected through her windows and something flashed at her from a different direction.  

It was her mockingjay pin, sitting on her nightstand.

Haymitch watched Cinna transform Katniss as the tour progressed. It was subtle, delicate, and beautiful as all his other work, and her look shifted from girlish to womanly, an adult of sophistication and elegance. Then he'd remember why and quietly get drunk. They weren't dressing her up to fight to the death this time, but the knowledge of the reason behind these striking looks was even more sickening in some ways.

He could smell the tension in some of the districts. Not at ignition yet, not boiling, but the heat was building from years of misery. Chaff slipped into the seat next to him during the dinner on their first stop, District 11, and muttered that the man who'd whistled at Katniss was shot after her speech.

"Glad she didn't see that. Any word on your tributes' families?" Katniss had blurted out a completely unscripted - but utterly heart-wrenching - thank-you to Rue and Thresh and their families, and the emotion in the crowd had risen at once, culminating in a group salute. Haymitch had seen her panic, but pulled her off the stage at the conclusion, knowing the Peacekeepers in this district would not let it pass.

Fortunately, Chaff and other influential District 11 figures had been there and would recognize the likely targets for retaliation. "They're on their way out now," Chaff confirmed. He smiled at Haymitch. "She's a credit to you."

Haymitch felt no pride, even though he knew Katniss had gained great respect in Eleven, in the Games and again today. "She's up for auction soon, Chaff."

" Shit! " his friend hissed, and took a deep drink. "I'm sorry. Shoulda seen that coming."

"Cinna flat-out apologized to her."

"He still gonna be her stylist? Good. Man's brilliant. Haymitch," he leaned in, looking to observers like just a tipsy oldster sharing stories or gossip. "Get her with Cashmere. Best protection she could have."

"That's what Cinna and me’re thinking. We should be able to swing it. Katniss’s got the attitude if not the education."

"I'll put the word out ahead of time, if you want."

"Thanks. Fucker's got a lot of hostages on her."

"How'd she take it?"

"She's tough, but it was hard on her. She's still shaky. Lot of people in Twelve would never understand."

"You know nobody in our crowd will blame her. Cash is a good woman; she'll teach her how to survive."

Haymitch gladly accepted a refilled drink. "Good. She'll need it. We all will."

"We've been told to keep our distance on the tour, and it's probably for the best. She'll be overwhelmed already, but come next Games, we'll have more time. Welcome drinks and advice for the newbie. Seeder's talking about coming back as mentor next year so Dalia can get married."

"No kidding!" Haymitch was genuinely pleased, by the news and a distraction that wasn't grim. Dalia Walters was Eleven's youngest victor, and the only female apart from Seeder Hines. Dalia had the blessing/curse of being unattractive by most standards. She was short, stocky, heavy-browed, and had worked on the heavy machinery with boys in the district before being reaped. She'd been cast as bestial and violent, so that after the arena, only the most perverted niches would be interested in her. Luckily, the Capitol preferred its most unsavory appetites to remain underground, so a victor and her ever-present following of cameras and reporters would not be sent to those places. So Dalia had been permitted to live a relatively quiet post-victory life.

Haymitch had watched her Games. While she had killed hard and fast, she was no animalistic brute. Her Games had been in the boon years, and two opponents got boons from her. "Who's she marrying?"

"Boy from her old work detail. They had a thing even before her Games. Damn escort and stylists thought it wasn't a good talking point."

"Meaning he's the real thing. Here's to them." Haymitch clinked glasses with Chaff. "I'll miss arm-wrestling with her, but Seeder knows her stuff."

"That's her thinking, too. She was already a victor at your Quell - and we're all aware the 'twist' is on its way."

"I know.”  Haymitch needed a long drink each time he thought about that.  “God help us."

Katniss quickly came to hate the train and the Victory Tour even more than she already had. She knew that the display in District 11 would have consequences, either for her and her family or for Rue or Thresh's families. She'd only meant to express her thanks, let them know that their tributes, particularly Rue as her ally, but also Thresh in sparing her life, were not forgotten by her. Instead, she feared she'd done something provocative. Would that cause President Snow to deem her "defiant" and reap Prim or worse? Or reap Rory Hawthorne or Delly Cartwright? Or worse to any one of them? A mine "accident" for Gale? Some move against Katniss’s mother or Hazelle?

The visits fell into a routine. Stop at a district, speech, dinner, train. Sometimes there was a brief tour or a few introductions to dignitaries. She met a few victors who seemed to be friends of Haymitch, but they kept their distance around the cameras, so she stayed close to Effie and Cinna.

During the waking hours, she worried. She even bit her fake nails, which drove Octavia crazy. At night, she returned to the arena and all its horrors, both real and new ones that her sleeping mind came up with. Sometimes she didn't sleep and the preps would fret over the dark circles under her eyes. Effie gave her pills, but then she couldn't wake up to break free from the nightmares, and after a few nights of terror, she refused to take them anymore.

But every now and then, sometimes for just the briefest snatches of the night, the arena wasn’t a place of horror.  She drifted back to Peeta’s side by the lake and felt his hands in her hair.  And he and the other tributes - rarely distinguishable except occasionally for Rue - whispered encouragement and comfort.  “You can do this, Katniss.  You can do this. ”

On the train, she spent a lot of time in the garment car with Cinna, watching him endlessly editing her outfits. Most of the time she agreed with everything he did, but occasionally she did find herself making a suggestion or a request if he prompted her a few (dozen) times for input. 

"Now that you're a victor rather than a tribute, we'll show you as elegant. Sophisticated. Aloof."

She thought she understood his intention that he didn't dare speak on the train. She couldn't see a man like Cray - the only model she had in real life for the type of man who bought women - interested in an aloof or sophisticated woman, only a desperate and hungry one. The sponsors she recalled vaguely from the victory dinner after the Games who'd had younger women on their arms at least acted gentlemanly in public. 

Well, considering Effie and her obsession with manners, perhaps that was the name of the game throughout the Capitol. At least it wouldn't be obvious she was being paid for her company. She hoped.

The back-to-back appearances in Districts 2 and 1 were their own special brand of awful. Her involvement in Cato and Clove's deaths was painful to think of, although Haymitch whispered in her ear as they left the dinner, "Message from Cato's father: he said to thank you for ending it when you did." She just managed to keep it together until the train doors closed.

But in District 1, home of Glimmer and Marvel, there was neither mercy nor another tribute's intervention to hide behind. She felt the rage and grief of Glimmer's younger sister burning her face from across the square. She nearly blurted out an apology for the beautiful girl's gruesome end, but realized it would make no difference.

If Prim had gone and I couldn't help her, I'd want to kill the victor who killed her with my bare hands no matter what their reasons were.

At the District 1 dinner, she debuted a dress that she supposedly created. In reality, she'd picked only the color, a deep burgundy, and the rest was all Cinna. A few of the district's makers of luxury garments dutifully clustered around her, admiring the gown, and one of them remarked, "You'll have to pair up with our Cashmere, add some of her jewelry."

"Cashmere Bryant?" Katniss remembered that name.

"Yeah, you remember her - one of District 1's great siblings: Cashmere and Gloss," Haymitch put in.

Katniss had been little, but she did remember the hubbub over a sister and brother winning two years in a row. "So she makes jewelry now?"

"When she's not mentoring, but yes, she's a very popular designer. She and Gloss are in the Capitol already; you should say hello on your next stop," said the tailor. "They visit the Capitol several times a year even when the Games and Victory Tour aren't on."

That got Haymitch's attention for some reason. "Yeah? I know Gloss does something with jewelry, can't recall..."

"He's a gemologist. Picks out the stones and has them cut and polished for her settings. They're partners. They'll certainly want to meet Katniss."

"That's nice," Katniss said, although Haymitch and Cinna were exchanging an intense look. Later, another victor from One murmured something to Haymitch, and he looked pleased.

"What's going on?" she demanded, half-terrified after they boarded the train.

"'sss okay, sssweetheart," he assured her, so drunk he was falling over in his seat. "Jus' a little good news for a change."

He was out cold by the time they stopped for fuel before making the final passage through the mountain tunnels to the Capitol, but Cinna took her for a walk to "check out the view." It was dark and very cold, but they walked away from the fuel station to get away from the lights (and cameras) and "see the stars", and she was actually glad. Above the mist from her breath, the moonless sky was diamonds on velvet for as far as she could see, more stars than she had imagined existed, and District 12 wasn't exactly a bright place at night.

"What's the good news?" she asked.

"Cashmere Bryant. She's going to be your other mentor in the Capitol," Cinna explained.

But Katniss cringed. "Did she mentor Glimmer?"

"She did, but trust me: the other mentors won't hold that against you. It happens, especially in circumstances like yours. You've all lived through it and had to move on from it. Haymitch and I were hoping she'd take you on." Cinna lowered his voice still more. " I like her, Katniss. In many ways, she's a great deal like you. She's had to face her share of ugliness, including being forced into 'entertainment' in the Capitol, but she's kept herself sane. And she knows what it is to have a younger sibling threatened."

For the first time, Katniss imagined that nightmare vision of having to mentor Prim, only from the eyes of someone else. "Weren't they Careers?"

"They were, but Gloss Bryant wasn't a volunteer, which is very unusual for District 1." Katniss’s stomach twisted in sympathy and horror, and Cinna squeezed her shoulder. "Whether they chose him to escalate the drama or because Cashmere resisted Snow in some way, I can't say. But I remember what she went through during his Games. I'm sure Haymitch does even more. District 1 has its choice of excellent stylists, but makeup can't hide everything." 

Haymitch and Cinna’s relief and pleasure at this development should have spilled over to Katniss. She'd based so much of her own feelings through the Games and up to now on what her mentor and stylist and everyone else seemed to feel. But that ended suddenly.

By rights, she should have been thanking them. But after another sleepless night, she was grumbling at Effie, snapping at Haymitch, and refused Cinna's offer to come try out her banquet gown. She had managed to keep it abstract until the train was on its way into the tunnels, but as the skyline of the Capitol appeared through the windows, it was sinking in with brutal clarity:

She was to be trained in the art of sex for hire by the great Cashmere Bryant, the beautiful mentor of Katniss's two direct victims. To become an aloof, sophisticated lady of the night and hope that would put people off from beating her or tying her up or whatever it was that creepy, kinky Capitol men did.

She wondered if the forcefield would be active as they headed to their old rooms in the Training Center. She was contemplating jumping out of sheer spite. To hell with all this. To hell with all of them.

She ignored Effie's invitation to have lunch before she had to prep and stomped off, only to find herself paralyzed outside Peeta’s door for several moments before she could retreat to her old room.

She had just smashed a tray of food against the wall when the door opened and Lavinia came in. They gaped at each other, and Lavinia waited until the door closed, then dipped her finger into spilled gravy and wrote on the wall: Again?

To Be Continued...

Chapter Text

Katniss collapsed on the bed and cried. Again.

She had never used to cry this much. Not even after her father died, not before the Games. There was no denying it, was there? The Capitol had broken her already, and they hadn't even started selling her yet.

But after she'd howled like an angry toddler, complete with pounding on the bed and sobbing until she was out of breath, sanity returned fast. Lavinia stood there, completely unthrown, and looking at the one-word gravy note, Katniss burst out laughing. "I'm sorry," she gasped, hiccupping as Lavinia brought water and a washcloth to wash her face. "I swear, I don't usually throw tantrums."

Lavinia grinned, the first unreserved smile Katniss had ever seen on her face. She pointed around the room in a circle, then at Katniss's head and wiggled her finger. That got them both giggling, and Katniss realized that Lavinia's voice still existed.  Her soft laughter was a lovely sound.

"Yes, this place does make people go crazy," Katniss agreed.

Lavinia glanced around, then shot Katniss a sad smile and began quickly scrubbing the wall and clearing away the broken dishes. She was just finishing when Haymitch entered. "Hey, Red. Did my commendation go on your record?" Lavinia nodded. "Good deal. ‘scuse us."

Katniss bristled at his careless tone, but Lavinia fell into the silent Avox shadow and left with downcast eyes. "Do you and Effie not care about manners if it's an Avox?" Katniss sneered.

" They get punished if it looks like they've been forward, sweetheart. And if we're forward, they're blamed." Katniss winced and had to stop herself from running after Lavinia to apologize. Haymitch sighed. "We've got a few minutes before the preps and Cinna get to work. Let's get some air."

Up on the roof, they stood close to the wind chimes that had once rung softly over her conversations with Peeta. "You all right?" Haymitch asked.

"What kind of question is that?"

"Okay, kinda stupid one."

"To say the least. I'm not in the mood for a lecture."

"In the mood to pout and make messes, it seems."

"Shut UP, Haymitch!"

His crooked grin finally pushed her over the edge, and it only infuriated her further when he effortlessly dodged her swing and laughed at her. "Come on, my little mockingjay, you can do better than that! No wonder you need a bow!"

Katniss roared inarticulately and simply hurled herself at him. He blocked another punch and threw one back at her, although she managed to keep her wits enough to duck. "STOP IT!"

He shoved her away, dropping his grin if not his snarky attitude. "Where'd you learn to punch, bad movies? Put it here!" He held up his palm, letting her slam her fist into it as hard as she could. "I said here , Katniss, not the invisible guy next to me. Come on, here. That's a jab. Now if you want a cross, you go for the jaw. Hold up your hand. There, that's a hook."

How the situation evolved from her ready to claw Haymitch's face off to him giving her boxing lessons, Katniss had no idea, but at least he was no longer smirking at her. And it was kind of interesting. She was sure she could outlast him in energy even if he was quicker than he looked, but he managed to call a halt by putting her in a headlock on the edge of the garden. "Let GO!"

"Damn, Effie's gonna kill me when she sees what a sweaty mess you are."

" I am going to kill you, Haymitch."

"As if you could manage it."

Someone behind them laughed. Katniss wrenched free of his slackened grip and looked past him to see a classically beautiful blond man leaning against the wall near the rooftop door. Between their ruckus and the wind chimes, neither of them had heard him come up, though he looked like he'd been there for some time. If Haymitch was alarmed, he didn't show it. "Hey, there, Gloss!"

Katniss stiffened. This was Gloss Bryant, the younger of District 1's legendary siblings. He had ten years on Katniss, although she couldn't recall the exact years of the Bryant Games, as Capitol reporters had dubbed them. Cashmere, the oldest, must have been close to thirty by now. But as if it weren't enough knowing that this man's older sister was destined to mentor Katniss in the sex trade, Gloss took her aback for another reason: his wavy blond hair.

It was brighter, such a pure sun-kissed gold that she suspected it wasn't natural, but for a few seconds, she saw Peeta. The casual, open smile made it worse, although Gloss was taller, leaner, and more self-assured than Peeta had ever been... at least in Katniss's memory.

She forced thoughts of Peeta down so she could regard this man as the total stranger that he was when he crossed the roof to them and extended his hand. "Gloss Bryant. Welcome to the club."

She couldn't help it; she winced. But the wry quirk of his smile as she shook his hand told her that Gloss had used that turn of phrase on purpose. "I'm Katniss," she mumbled, feeling clumsy and awkward.

Gloss kindly pretended not to notice and grinned at Haymitch. "You're beating up on her before the tour's even over? Either she's worse than me or you need to get some patience. Cash didn't slug me until my first mentoring training."

"She's your big sister, kiddo. She lets you get away with murder."

"Bullshit. I drive her nuttier than anyone else," he proclaimed with pride. He turned back to Katniss. "If you've got a few minutes before you're up with Caesar, stop by the first floor and say hello. Cash got some tips from our designers back home that you've got partnership potential. Your clothes, her jewelry."

Katniss nodded weakly. Haymitch took over. "Better get you back down, then. Cinna's got some of her stuff for the Capitol fashionistas to ogle. While she's in prep, you could take a look."

They beckoned Katniss ahead of them, not really leaving it up to her. An hour ago, she might have complained just to be contrary, but at least the brawl-cum-boxing lessons had burned off some of her frustrated anger. Now she just let it all come at her as it would. After all, what harm was there if Gloss and Cashmere looked at her evening clothes? They were Cinna's designs anyway.

She had to endure the hysterics of Effie and the prep team at the dirt and sweat she'd acquired, but Cinna rallied them. They hustled her off to the bathroom to shower and wash her hair, and Cinna and Haymitch took Gloss off to Peeta's room where Katniss’s garment racks were set up. By the time she was cleaned up, made up, and hair arranged, Cinna was back with her interview dress. "Cashmere would like you to come say hi, so let’s get you ready now," he said.

This one was even less her own than the burgundy dress had been - she hadn't even contributed a color. It was entirely Cinna's creation. The dress was gold on black embroidery with a sheer, dark layer over it. The gold thread was metallic - maybe real gold for all Katniss knew - and so polished that every movement made it appear that the gown was throwing off sparks. The loose, sheer sleeves were full of streaks of the same glittery thread so the length of her body flashed in the light. Her hair was up in a pile of loops on her head, threaded with still more sparkling gold.

Haymitch rejoined them with Gloss as she was putting on her shoes, and looked at the clock. "We've got a half-hour. Let's go introduce you to Cash."

Katniss was so nervous about that imminent meeting that she hardly cared about the interview with Caesar or the banquet at Snow's mansion. Her palms were as sweaty as they'd been before that first interview prior to the Games. The men pretended not to notice as they took the elevator down. 

"Our floor's identical to yours," said Gloss, evidently trying to put her at ease. "Although I guess you're still in your tribute room."  They disembarked one floor above the Training Center lobby into a living room identical in layout to the one they'd just left. Gloss beckoned them along. "Here's a sneak peek at the mentors’ quarters."

Opposite the hall from where Katniss and Peeta’s rooms had been on the twelfth floor was another door that Katniss had assumed was for Haymitch. Only now did it occur to her that the other districts all had two mentors. Behind that door was another living area, but instead of just couches or a dining table, there were desks with huge computer interfaces. 

"You can profile your tributes' performances in training and skill, look at costume progress from the stylists, and track sponsor commitments," Gloss explained. "All public information can be accessed, but you can keep a confidential file with your own notes that no one but your fellow mentor can see."

All that information boggled the mind, and at least it distracted Katniss for a second with the daunting prospect of being a mentor to future tributes. She frowned at the interfaces. "But you don't watch the Games from here?"

"No, no, then we're all in the Control Tower. We don't have time for it tonight, but you'll get a tour when you get here next summer." Gloss led the way to one of the two doors on opposite sides of the room. "For those of us with hobbies," he rapped on one door only for a moment before opening it. "Hey, Cash."

Katniss mutely followed him into the room. It was a bedroom, even bigger than the tribute bedrooms, with another huge bed and door leading off to the bathroom. But there was also a sitting area with a small couch and armchair, a full bookshelf, and across from it, another desk.

The desk didn't look like it was part of the room's original design. It was actually a small table, with industrial lamps, illuminated magnifiers on stands, and its wood surface was strewn with bits of metal and all manner of tools.

In the chair at the desk sat a woman with a long, messy blond braid and not a speck of makeup. Whatever Katniss had expected from her first up-close impression of Cashmere Bryant, this wasn't it. She knew Cashmere had to be at least thirty years old, but she looked a good deal younger. She glanced over her shoulder as Katniss and Gloss came into the room and put down the piece of jewelry she'd had under one of the big lenses. Wiping her greasy hands on a towel, she smiled past them. "Hello, Haymitch. I don't think I've ever seen you on my floor before."

"Sparkly stuff isn't really my thing," Haymitch replied. "But our newest victor likes it, so I thought I'd introduce you."

"Katniss," Cashmere rose gracefully to come shake her hand. "You hardly need jewelry with that gown."

"It's... mostly Cinna's," Katniss mumbled, trying not to just stare at her feet.

"My first pieces were mostly my jeweler's," Cashmere assured her. "Give it time. Thanks to you, I've been deluged with requests for mockingjay designs." Amid all the gold in her dress and hair, Katniss was still wearing her mockingjay pin over her heart.

Haymitch took pity on her (again) and put in, "Coming to the interview?"

"No, if you've seen one Flickerman gushfest, you've seen them all. I'll be at the banquet tonight. It was nice to meet you, Katniss. We'll have to have a sit-down when you're back next summer."

And that was it. Katniss might have been staring in bewilderment into space all the way out on the stage in front of the Training Center of Haymitch hadn't annoyed her with his grinning. "If I ruin my dress by hitting you, it'll be your fault," she growled. He raised his hands defensively and fled as she took her place. On that aggressive note, she felt more prepared to face Caesar and the audience.

Caesar was as generous to her in guiding the interview as he'd been before. It started with him beside himself over "that glorious dress." Cashmere hadn't been wrong to term his interviews as a gushfest. Twirling ensued, and the audience was as crazed as ever.

"So is this a gown you designed yourself?"

"Well, not 'myself,' no. Not alone," Katniss said quickly. She gestured to Cinna, seated with Haymitch and Gloss in the front row with the prep team. "Cinna's my inspiration." She was glad of the loud applause directed at Cinna. They had discussed her talking points beforehand, so she went on, "I don't know so much about the technical things - the sewing, embroidery, the fabrics - but I’m learning. And I can talk to Cinna about an idea to turn into an outfit."

"You and Cinna have set up a few pieces for us to see. Let's play them!"

The photos were Katniss modeling two evening gowns, an afternoon dress, and a pants outfit similar to what she might actually wear during the winter at home. The audience applauded enthusiastically, and Caesar added, "I understand you may expand your enterprise into a clothing line. Shall we ask the ladies of the Capitol if they have any interest in going out on the town in a Katniss Everdeen original?"

A roar of feminine voices was the answer. "So what was your concept for this dress?" Caesar went on.

Ready for this, Katniss beckoned, and an attendant brought her a metal stick and small box of matches. The crowd murmured curiously. "I don't know if you use these in the Capitol, but we light them at the Harvest Festival and New Year’s." She lit a match and touched it to the stick, and a flower of gold sparks erupted.

"A sparkler! You're a walking firework!"

She spun once more for good measure as the sparkler burned out, and it was a few minutes before Caesar could get the crowd under control. I think I'm getting better at this.

“Glorious, simply glorious! And I think you have a glorious future in fashion design ahead of you. I don't know about all of you," Caesar said to the audience, "but this has been one of the most inspiring things about the tradition of the Hunger Games: the brilliant artistry and talents that have come to us from our victors."

Katniss kept a fixed smile amid the cheers of agreement, but thought, And twenty-three lives and all their talent and potential are destroyed every year.

The party at the presidential mansion had no equal. Having skipped lunch and gotten some major exercise wrestling with Haymitch, Katniss was starving.  Even so, the spread of food lining the walls was so immense that she knew there was no way she'd manage to taste everything. With Cinna as her de facto dinner partner, she was frequently sought out not only by admirers of her status as this year's victor, but by people interested in her clothing line. She managed to not make a complete idiot of herself with her own remarks on dresses and fabric, but as far as she was concerned, people were only distractions from the food.

"I want to taste everything!" she told Cinna. He chuckled.

"Then you better pace yourself unless you want to be visiting the vomitorium."

Katniss looked at him in confusion. "The what?!"

Cinna gestured with his head at a table in a corner near the hallway leading to the restrooms. It was covered in little crystal glasses of clear liquid. "Welcome to a Capitol feast, my friend.  When you’re full, take a drink to the bathroom, empty your stomach, then come back for more."

It took her only a moment to put it all together, and she probably would have just stared at those pretty little glasses for an hour if Cinna hadn't tugged her away. Her eyes were finally drawn elsewhere, but it was to one of the dessert tables of beautifully frosted and decorated cakes. Oh, Peeta. I wish I could have seen your face reacting to that.

The food was wonderful. Katniss tried to limit herself to one small taste of each dish, but weakened all too often. Interestingly, while Cinna was from the Capitol, he was either very respectful of her scruples about throwing food away (to say nothing of the vomit drinks) or he actually shared them. 

Not that Cinna didn't enjoy the food too; he directed her to some of his favorites, pointed out items available in very small portions, and shared larger ones with her. 

During the few moments when the camera crews and admirers left them alone, she could almost forget the circumstances surrounding her - the victory, her phony talent, future Hunger Games, all the ghosts from the last ones, her impending entry into the world of prostitution.

The only thing she couldn’t seem to stop imagining was how Peeta would react to everything.  Which of the foods would be his favorites?  What would he have to say about the beautiful decorations on the cakes and other desserts, even the sauces on some of the savory dishes, so elaborate and artistic?

What would your talent have been?  Clearly art made out of food was a real thing in the Capitol; Peeta might have liked that and been able to actually do it without being a complete imposter.  

For some reason she couldn’t explain, though, when she dreamed of him, he was often painting, smearing actual paint on an actual canvas on an easel. She couldn’t recall him ever talking about actual paint before or during the Games.

Cinna had a knack for finding them secluded little nooks around the room: a small couch by a fireplace obscured by greenery, a little table behind a towering chocolate sculpture, armchairs near a fountain. On occasion, Haymitch joined them (or they found him already occupying their chosen hideaway), though he grew steadily more inebriated as the evening progressed.

About an hour into the party, Katniss was savoring her way through a parfait of three kinds of chocolate mousse (one dark, one light, and one vanilla with little specks of chocolate in it), when someone arriving through the main doors caused a murmur. At first glance, she didn't recognize the stunning blond couple strolling gracefully towards her past the camera crews. Only when it dawned on her that the man in the tuxedo was Gloss Bryant did she realize that the woman was Cashmere.

The girl with dirty hands over the work table earlier that afternoon was now a woman more tall, elegant, and poised than Katniss thought she could ever hope to be. Cashmere’s gown was subtly-patterned velvet, a blue so dark it was almost black, and she wore a necklace of intricately woven strands of silver, with little silver pins in her hair shaped like stars, or maybe snowflakes. Compared to most of the Capitol women in their elaborate gowns, dramatic hair and make-up, and gaudy jewelry, Cashmere Bryant's choice of wardrobe and grooming was incredibly simple, but she outshone just about everyone in the room. 

Cinna murmured in Katniss's ear, "See how they look at her?"

She'd been too busy staring herself, but as Cashmere approached, Katniss cast a quick glance at the men in the room. She recognized Gamemakers, high-rolling sponsors, and other Capitol elite... staring at the passing woman with awe, desire, but on the whole, their expressions could best be described as adoration. 

Katniss couldn't imagine Peacekeeper Cray or anyone like him even having the nerve to approach, let alone treat Cashmere with the cruelty and dismissiveness that Katniss had seen from Cray's ilk. She began to understand why Haymitch and Cinna thought that falling in with Cashmere Bryant might be a form of protection.  Although Katniss couldn't imagine herself ever having the looks, let alone the confidence that Cashmere projected.

Still, the fact that Haymitch and Cinna thought it was a good idea was reason enough itself, even if Katniss hadn't observed the reactions just now. So she rose and managed to give what she hoped was a relaxed smile. "Cashmere, how nice to see you again." Then she winced inwardly and felt Cinna chuckle beside her; she sounded like Effie.

"And you, Katniss," Cashmere leaned in and kissed the air above Katniss's cheek in a greeting she'd seen and received from other women in the Capitol. 

As Cinna shook Gloss's hand, he nodded to Cashmere's gown, "Is this Selene's work?"

"Not entirely,” said Cashmere.  “She's pretty bogged down with tribute and candidate jobs, but I stole Lapis from her workshop when he got his mastery; you know her influence."

"I take it Selene is your district's stylist?" Katniss guessed. 

Cinna gave the Bryants a sly smile. "The very best. I apprenticed under her." That explained how he knew Cashmere so well. 

"Let me get you ladies a drink," said Gloss, and Cinna excused himself to join him.

Katniss went awkwardly back to the chairs she'd been occupying with Cinna, and Cashmere sat down next to her without waiting for the invitation Katniss had forgotten to give. "Did you make your own jewelry?" Katniss asked, seizing on the same vein of conversation.

Cashmere nodded, regarding Katniss with dark blue eyes, almost as dark as her velvet gown. "It's filigree. Do you like it?" Closer up, Katniss realized that each strand of the necklace and loop of the earrings and hair clips was made up of minute silver beads. That explained the sparkle when it caught the light.

"It's very pretty," she said. "But it looks like it was a lot of work."

"It is - it takes longer than anything else. But it's soothing. And you? Have you found clothes a good distraction?"

Depends on from what. "Well, I... I don't know how to do anything that detailed. Even this is almost entirely Cinna," she hedged, gesturing to her own gown. Cashmere didn't obviously change expressions, but somehow Katniss sensed Cashmere knew that this victor's "talent" was a sham.

"It helps to have a hobby. It's a way to relax, especially in the Capitol with all the frenzy over the Games. We mentors need to keep our cool."

"I suppose that's better than drinking," Katniss blurted without thinking, and Cashmere chuckled. Now there was no doubt of whom they were talking about. 

Cinna and Gloss returned with glasses of champagne and a platter of bite-sized appetizers and desserts, which they shared in comfortable chairs around one of the fish ponds. Cinna quizzed Cashmere about some of the themes her stylists were using in their latest designs, whatever that meant, and pondered the possibility of incorporating Cashmere's filigree work into a garment. 

"That's goldwork in Katniss's dress, and we had a hell of a time getting it to reflect the light correctly."

"With a gown like that, as I told Katniss earlier, you hardly need jewelry. But filigree detail is a possibility." Cashmere shot Katniss a knowing look. "This isn't really the time or place, but we'll have to have a longer discussion about business when you come back."

"Really. Shop talk later; this is a party," said Gloss. "And may I steal the newest member of our fraternity of victors for a dance?"

It took Katniss a second to realize he meant her. "Oh! Um... okay."

Effie had taught Katniss a few Capitol dances, and Gloss took his place with her for the simplest one. They smiled for the eager camera crews but were then left to talk. "I know it's all a little overwhelming now," he said with a cheerful smile. To anyone listening, he would seem to be referring to the reporters and Victory Tour glamor.

"Was it this way for you?" she asked, unable to disguise her real subject easily without being vague.

Luckily, he understood. "Yes and no. Every victor's experience is a little different. But it's true, we have all been there. Although I know you had a rough time at the end." His eyes, the same dark blue as his sister's, but luckily much darker than Peeta's, had a gentleness to them that made Katniss's throat go tight.

"Yes, it... well, all Panem saw, didn't they?" she murmured, dropping her eyes to stare at his pristine white bow tie. "I..." In her rush to think of or talk about something, anything other than Peeta, somehow her mind latched onto another subject almost as painful. "I'm sorry about Glimmer. And Marvel."

His fingers tightened on her just a little, but he replied, "It's all right. We don't blame you for anything that happened in the arena. No mentor does."

"Thank you," she whispered. The band finished up their song, and they stepped back, then Gloss stepped back to her and kissed her hand like some of the other partners were doing. 

Leaning towards her ear as if to kiss her cheek as well, he whispered, "It'll get better."

Then he stepped quickly away as another man approached on Venia's arm. "Katniss," she said eagerly. "Our new Head Gamemaker has asked to meet you: this is Plutarch Heavensbee."

The man was vaguely familiar, so Katniss assumed he'd been one of the Gamemakers under Seneca Crane the year before. He exchanged pleasantries with Gloss, then asked for the honor of a dance with "our newest victor." Gloss smiled and placed Katniss’s hand on Plutarch’s, then offered his own arm to Venia, who actually bounced with delight.

Katniss couldn't claim to be so pleased; the situation in the Capitol was difficult enough to stomach without being in physical contact with a Gamemaker. But to her surprise, Plutarch seemed to sense her revulsion and moreover, actually accommodated her by holding her at arm's length for the dance. He seemed a little chagrined, and it was that expression that finally led her to place him. 

"Oh, you're the one who - " she couldn't help laughing. He was the one who’d fallen into the punch bowl after she shot the apple out of the suckling pig’s mouth, a lifetime ago during her private rating session.

"Yes, and you'll be pleased to know I've never recovered," he replied, fanning his face.

Katniss bit back a tart response that twenty-three other people had also never recovered, including her "star-crossed lover." "So you're the Head Gamemaker this year? That must be a big honor."

"Between you and me, there weren't many takers for the job," he said. "There’s so much responsibility for how the Games turn out."

Katniss was startled by the implication.  Just what had happened to Seneca Crane that he no longer had the job? Plutarch was certainly hinting that it was more than just a demotion. Moreover, why was his successor telling her this? "Are you planning the Quarter Quell Games already?" she asked.

"Of course. Well, they've been in the works for years, you know; arenas aren't built in a day. But the, shall we say, flavor of the Games is being determined now. I even have a strategy meeting tonight." Plutarch pulled a fob watch from his vest pocket and eyed it. "Speaking of which, I'll need to be off soon. It starts at midnight." Before Katniss could think beyond the kind of hours that Gamemakers must keep, she saw Plutarch run his thumb across the watch face. On the crystal surface, the clock was replaced by a glowing image of a mockingjay. In the time it took her to blink, the image vanished, and Plutarch snapped the watch closed.

"That's very pretty," she said, baffled.

"It's one of a kind," he replied softly. "If anyone asks, I've gone home to bed. These meetings are supposed to be kept secret. But I thought I'd be safe to tell you." He kissed her hand as the dance ended. "Well, I'll see you next summer for the Games, Miss Everdeen. Have a lovely evening."

"Thank you," she replied and wandered alone along the banquet tables, exchanging meaningless thanks to strangers who continued to chatter their admiration. But there was a coldness in the pit of her stomach again, and that future she'd managed to forget for a while was returning full force to claim her consciousness.

Plutarch, the Head Gamemaker, was undoubtedly a very rich man. Even if there was some risk involved in the role if a tribute did something defiant as she had, no doubt he was a powerful figure. She rather doubted that even the all-important Hunger Games necessitated a midnight meeting in secret. No, he was sounding her out about something else that went on at night: women selling themselves. Men too, it seemed. 

Gloss certainly seemed to have an understanding for her anxiety that went beyond simple victor-to-victor camaraderie, even if he had experienced the horror of the arena and the guilt of being survivor and killer. Haymitch had said it even happened to him at times.

Plutarch Heavensbee wants me to save him a spot on my dance card. Or in my little black book, or whatever it is that I'll have when I start booking nights in people's beds. 

Would that have happened to Peeta? If he'd lived and I'd died? Probably. What about both of us, if they'd kept the rule change? Or would our romance have been enough to discourage people? 

She gazed distantly at the cakes again. You really did give me the raw end of the deal, Peeta Mellark. I wish you were alive just so I could shove you again.

He’d been shocked at the time, but now, when she imagined smashing one of those lovely cakes all over him, she kept envisioning him laughing.

It was getting close to midnight, and on cue, Effie appeared to round everyone up to "say thank you and farewell." Katniss took the initiative and kissed Cashmere's cheek this time.  If the older woman's knowledge and reputation could afford her some measure of protection in the future, she wouldn't turn it down. 

Was stringing tiny beads and gemstones together really enough to distract Cashmere Bryant from nights with strange men? The cool smile and slight squeeze of the hand gave Katniss no answer.

Cashmere dropped onto the edge of Plutarch’s bed and began letting her hair down, dropping the pins into her silver purse. "Thank god that's over. So what do you think of my new recruit?"

"She's scared out of her mind," Plutarch said as he came out of the bathroom. 

"Of course, she is. After those Games, I'm still expecting someone to end up dead. If they haven't, it means Snow came down on her hard, and he's possibly not done yet. She lost weight during the tour, didn't you notice?"

"I'm not the expert on human bodies that you are, my dear."

"No, death traps are your expertise," muttered Gloss, kicking off his shoes.

"Ouch. I'm wounded. Needs must, after all. We're lucky Snow decided the Gamemakers needed a more direct lesson than Katniss did, or Seneca would still be in charge. At least I can keep you on top of any last-minute changes."

"Do we know the twist yet?"

Plutarch sighed and came into the bedroom. "Not yet. He's still stewing over possibilities."

Gloss affected shock. "You mean those envelopes and cards really aren't seventy-five years old?"

"Oh, there are lots of suggestions where they came from, but no, the creativity of the modern day is in full swing." Plutarch gazed at the plush carpet, then looked up at them. "We will need to tread very lightly where she's concerned. He's watching her. He sensed the same things we did, and this Quell is going to be aimed directly at her. I think..." he closed his eyes and shook his head. "There's a possibility he'll send you all back to the arena. Together."

It took a lot to break Cashmere's composure. Now she just stared at him. It was Gloss who finally spoke. "How?"

"Reaping the tributes from 'the pool of existing victors.' Guaranteed to take her, of course, and any other currently solo mentors. You and Cash might have a chance to escape that, although he's not unaware of your influence. One's pool of victor’s is fairly big."

"Holy fuck." Gloss put a hand on his sister's shoulder. The two men wondered if she was even aware of them anymore. "You're trying to discourage that? Not that the alternatives will be pretty, but hey, I'm selfish that way."

"Of course, and lucky for us, there are a lot of other good arguments against it. I have my own twist idea that I’m lobbying for; I just have to persuade Snow that it will have a ‘quelling’ effect when I intend it to have the opposite. " Plutarch reached out to pat Cashmere's hand. "Well, I'm pretty spent, I think. I'll be a gentleman and let you have the bed."

"No." She stood up and walked out into the sitting room. "I'll take the couch." 

Gloss and Plutarch stared grimly at each other. Gloss held out a coin. "Flip you for the floor?"

To Be Continued...

Chapter Text

Katniss was relieved no end to return home and find family and friends unharmed. For a few weeks, she had a sense almost of peace, even some sense of safety. The tour was done. 

She brought back gifts from the trip: thread and nice linen for the Parsons, a book of music for Madge, a huge collection of seeds for her mother, Prim, and the Hawthornes to grow in their gardens. The seeds were mostly medicinal plants, but there were some vegetables too and even some flowers for Prim.

Immediately after getting off the train, Haymitch accompanied her to visit the bakery. Mr. Mellark came to the counter with Miller and Tate behind him. It must have been the Capitol environment of the Training Center roof and all of its memories that had made Gloss remind her of Peeta, since seeing Miller and Tate now, the comparison seemed absurd.

"How was it?" asked the baker.

Katniss smiled wearily. "Interesting. Long. I found this in District 9," she held out a book of baking recipes, "and this in the Capitol." A book of icing and decorating techniques. "I thought you might...like…"

The brothers moved closer to peer over their father's shoulder as he leafed through them. "This is wonderful, Miss Katniss,” the baker said.  “Very kind. Thank you."

"You're welcome," she murmured, and they left.

Haymitch meant to tease her. "You really need me for that?"

He got a surprise when she answered sharply, "Yes!"

Anger or irritation alone would have made him laugh, but not the pain. He ushered her from the square. "How 'bout a game of chess?"

"You always beat me."

"I'll spot you a pawn."

"Two!"

"Gonna blindfold me too?"

"It's not a game otherwise, just stroking your ego."

But she was in a better mood by the time they set up the board at his house, to the point where it didn't even bother him to handicap himself. Granted, Katniss's skills had progressed to where he didn't need to handicap himself severely anymore, but if she wanted a little confidence, he'd spot her that as well. It was on the ever-decreasing list of things he still had to offer her.

And as his luck would have it, over the chess board, she called in another one. "Haymitch, what's it like to mentor?"

He sighed, staring at the board, then got up to pull a bottle of liquor from the cabinet. "I'll need this."

"Don't get drunk," she muttered, not pleading or scolding, just tired.

"I won't." He broke the seal and took a slow sip. "I'll stay sober enough." Their eyes met over the top of the bottle, then they quietly laughed. There was almost no humor in feeling the ghost of Peeta Mellark in the room.

Katniss rubbed her eyes. "Maybe I should get one."

"Call me a hypocrite, but I wouldn't advise it."  She gave him a wry smile. He brought out a knight and said, "Even without a quell, the first few years are hell."

"What's the worst part?" she asked bluntly.

It didn't take him long to come up with the answer. "Having to choose." At her puzzled expression, he explained, "You can only hope to bring one home. The earlier you can make the choice, the better the chance."

He didn't even have to glance up at her to see the next question coming. "Did you choose me?"

"Yes."

After a long silence, "Why? You liked him better. He was better."

Maybe.  But that wasn’t what she wanted to hear, so he simplified it.  "Yes. But he wanted to protect you. I smelled that even before he started interview coaching and told me himself. I thought between the three of us, we might be able to bring you home."

"Good job," she muttered, and there was no mistaking the acid in her tone. He shrugged and took another drink, then her hand shot across the table to grab his wrist. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that."

He looked at her. "Don't worry about it. I felt the same after my Games." She nodded. "But are you gonna explain to a terrified kid or their distraught, desperate family that maybe they’re better off not coming home?"

She winced. "There's no way to win, is there?"

"There never was, sweetheart, not for a tribute in the Hunger Games. There never will be."

Katniss shoved the chess board aside, sending pieces scattering across the table and floor. "Cashmere's right: I need to find a hobby. One I actually like."

"Keep doing what you already like. Go shoot stuff."

"I can't do that in the Capitol."

"You shot the Gamemakers' little piggy, remember?"

"Next year, can I shoot the Gamemakers? Oh, shit, I said that out loud."

They both burst out laughing. He raised the bottle in a mock-toast, then she grabbed it for a sip. He raised his eyebrows, but didn't try to stop her. She coughed furiously and handed it back, wrinkling her nose. "Do we have a choice about anything? Ever?"

"What do you want to hear, Katniss?" he sighed. The choice that did exist could hardly be discussed indoors. He found himself actually wanting to cheer her up, and not with alcohol. "You've at least got some skills to teach the kids you'll mentor."

"I don't think even Cray would let that slide."

"Sweetheart, your arrows weren't the only things that saved you."

Katniss stared at him, but he saw the flash of hope in her eyes. Strange how intensely glad he felt at recognizing it.

Katniss was at the Hawthornes' the next day as soon as school was out. "It's high time Rory got some regular practice shooting. I think Vick should come along."

"I quite agree," said Hazelle. The boys needed little encouragement at the prospect of learning to hunt and shoot like their revered big brother.

But Posy protested, "I wanna go too!"

Katniss exchanged a baffled grin with Hazelle, who had to deal with her four-year-old's complaints at being refused. She finally said, "Tell you what, Posy. Have my sister Prim take you down to the meadow and start learning about plants. And you can help her plan her garden."

That mollified the little one, and the boys agreed to a detour to drop Posy off at the Victor's Village. Katniss's mother and Prim were all too willing to take on Posy as their little apprentice, and Katniss headed off to the woods with Vick and Rory. After all, she'd heard the Career academies began at age six or seven. The younger they prepared, the better. But even as the younger Hawthorne boys reveled in the forbidden exercise and Prim got to play big sister to Posy, Katniss wondered if she herself was just playing the Capitol's chosen role. A piece in their Games, training future pieces. Starting her own little Career academy.

What would you do, Peeta?  If you had to mentor… She couldn’t quite bring herself to “ask” how he’d deal with being turned into a Capitol prostitute, even just in her imagination.  Would you try to prepare kids here at home?  What else could you do?  What else can I do?

Still, whatever doubts she felt, the rest of District 12 either didn't know and didn't share them. One day when she was collecting Vick and Rory, Mr. Andrew Daniels came to the house. Father of Leevy who was Gale's age and now working in the mines, he had the younger boy, Dusty, at his side and his hat in his hand. "Miss Katniss, I wonder if you'd... consider taking my Dusty on your... walks. If it wouldn't be too much trouble, of course."

It must have taken a good deal of pride to ask. But Dusty Daniels was only thirteen, which meant five more reapings to survive. Teen years in the districts were an eternity, as Katniss knew all too well from Prim's thirteenth birthday.

Hazelle stepped forward. "It might look a little odd if she starts going on... walks with too many. I'll keep Vick home today." Vick made a noise of protest, but gave in without having to be scolded or coaxed.  Even he could see the reasoning: Rory and Dusty were of reaping age. They had to have priority.

"I'll find some way to repay you," said Mr. Daniels, and Katniss looked at him in disbelief.

"Go on," Hazelle urged her and the two boys. "Andrew and I will talk."

So Katniss slipped through the fence with the boys. Dusty, like Rory and Vick, had an adventurous spirit and was eager to learn. As she taught him the basics of nocking, aiming, and firing arrows, she mulled over the new dilemma that Mr. Daniels had presented. Even to a victor who had everything (from outsiders' eyes, anyway), those in the Seam couldn't ask for a favor without seeking some way to repay it. As frustrating as it was for her, Katniss couldn't deny that she herself would have felt the same in Mr. Daniels's shoes.

She finally told Dusty, "The only repayment I want from you and your pa is never talk about this inside the fence. If the Peacekeepers decide they don't approve, we'll all be in trouble."

The younger boy nodded gravely. Strange how very large only a few-year difference in age had become. She felt centuries older than him. "I promise, Miss Katniss."

She chuckled. "Just 'Katniss' to you. You're my sister’s age!"

He grinned, like a younger, skinnier version of Gale. The formality relaxed, she actually started to enjoy it. Most of the game was holed up for the winter, but they made targets on leafless trees. She considered the possibility of a full-on winter setting in the arena - it'd happened twice before in her lifetime - and switched their focus to scrounging edible roots and plants from the frozen landscape. Both boys could already climb trees, so she watched and taught them a few of her tricks.

As the sun set, they divided up the food they'd gathered. Rory, young as he was, had recognized that Dusty went hungry far more often than he and would have given the older boy a larger share if Katniss hadn't shaken her head at him. With Leevy now working in the mines and Dusty learning to hunt and forage, the Daniels’ life would improve. Let them have their pride.

"Can I come back tomorrow?" Dusty asked.

"If we get too many people, you'll have to start taking turns. But meet me at Rory's house when school’s out and…say…eight o’clock on Sunday mornings."

It wasn't much, but at least she was doing something. She soon did have to rotate taking people out because the number of kids who came to “hang out” at the Hawthornes’ got so big. Except on Sundays. Gale joined her then, and they split into two groups. If Gale had any misgivings about training tributes, he didn't voice them. Probably he'd reached the same conclusion that she had: training was better than sending them off to slaughter completely unprepared.

When the weather turned especially bad, Katniss brought them all to her house and, with Prim and her mother actively participating, brought out her family's plant book and lectured. Her mother showed samples of plants that could treat wounds and illnesses and demonstrated some basic first aid.

Only a few kids from the town joined them regularly: Madge Undersee, Delly Cartwright, Delly’s little brother, Jonathan, and Jessamine Parson. Katniss felt guilty about not extending the invitation more openly to merchant families, but she had no idea how to go about it. At least for Seam children, silence and wariness was second nature.

Just after New Year’s, one Sunday after a heavy snowfall, she and Gale taught a huge group to throw and dodge via a snowball fight. That was one of the best days she'd had since before the arena. Even merchant kids were out on the meadow along with a fair number of adults, and Katniss created a game out of hitting targets in tree branches or off fence posts.

"Do not throw rocks at people!" Gale thundered at a pair of boys, hauling them to the sidelines as punishment. Katniss's mother was explaining snow coat to a group of older kids and several other parents, and another group was trying to build a fire in different ways without matches.

There was an older boy teaching some wrestling moves to a group of younger kids, with the snow to cushion their falls. He stood up with a particularly scrawny nine-year-old clinging to his back, laughing, blond hair wet and full of slush, blue eyes bright... Katniss froze.

It was Peeta.

No, she realized, it was Tate Mellark, drawn to the commotion like so many others and seizing a rare chance to have fun. His eyes met hers, and his face fell. Katniss supposed it might even if she weren't the girl who lived when his brother had died. Other eyes, even laughing, showed the apprehension and awareness they all had in the back of their minds. This was fun, and they'd take it, especially for their children. But it was about the Hunger Games.

A few Peacekeepers came and went, luckily all people Katniss knew from the Hob. Darius came close to her and murmured, "There’s an inspection one month from tomorrow. Toe the line for a few days before and after, okay?"

"Thanks," she murmured back.

Word quietly got around from Darius and the other sympathetic Peacekeepers. Even the Hob closed up for a few days. The thaw was finally coming on by then, so Katniss confined herself to lecturing kids about plants, water, and trees. "Better put that 'heirloom' bow back in your house in case someone wants to see it," Haymitch advised.

They did, and Katniss and Gale made a late-night trip to the woods to hide all signs of their markers and take down the snares and traps, and to retrieve Gale's bow. Haymitch hid his white liquor stock and bought some bottles of legal wine for show.

When the out-of-district Peacekeeper inspectors showed up, Haymitch was relaxing in a rocker on his porch while Katniss and her mother were preparing their front garden for planting. After they'd gone, Katniss arrived at Haymitch’s house looking rattled. "I’m so glad that's over." She stole his wine bottle and took a deep swig.

"At least it looks like Cray passed muster," said Haymitch. "Did they take the bow?"

"No. I had it in a trunk in the basement and the bowstring in the safe, so they were all right with it. Thread, that superior, was creepy as hell. Like he was waiting for us to make a mistake."

"Believe me, sweetheart, that's exactly what he was doing," Haymitch informed her.

Prim arrived home a little rattled herself since the inspectors had visited the school. "The teachers have announced a mandatory program on TV tonight."

Haymitch figured it out before they did and declined their invitation to dinner. He was already well into a bottle of liquor when Caesar Flickerman announced the reading of the card.

" On the seventy-fifth anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels of the struggle that resulted from the loss of all that the Capitol provides the districts, each district shall provision its tributes with their supplies at its own expense ."

Katniss burst into his house within five minutes. "Sober up, Haymitch, we've got work to do!"

"Slow down , sweetheart!" he exclaimed, pulling his bottle close to keep her from snatching it. "What, are you planning on not sleeping between now and then?"

"...not really, no."

After realizing Haymitch was determined to take at least this one last night to get blasted, Katniss returned home and found that Prim had written down the card's message. The word "expense" was underlined, and she'd left a note. Victor's winnings? Trade?

Good point. Would they go to the frantic effort of assembling a cache of supplies only to have it refused and District 12's tributes left to starve or die of thirst or worse if they broke the rules? What kind of arena was hinted by this card? A barren one, not like the forest of the previous year.

Katniss knew she’d never be able to sleep that night, so she sat up making lists. Food, water, medical supplies, weapons. Under those words, she listed ideas. The medical list was longest, full of things her mother and the other apothecaries could supply. There was a variety of food to be had, but what would last longest and take up the least room? Or weigh the least?

Very early the next morning, Gale showed up. "Somehow I thought you'd be awake. I just wanted to see if you were okay."

Katniss sighed and held up her lists. Gale sat at the little kitchen table to read them while Katniss poured him coffee and brought out some bread. "Prim was smart to write this down. The words could be clues," he muttered. "You forgot shelter supplies: tent, blankets, matches definitely."

"And just two of them, assuming they team off right away, how much can they carry?! Oh, god, Gale..." Panic warred with despair in her. "How are we going to do this?!"

Gale sighed and patted her hand. "I can see why Haymitch wanted one more bender. Listen, Catnip - breathe. Everyone's gonna want to help. We'll figure this out. C'mon, walk me to the mines."

Once outside, he said, "This is obviously meant to put more pressure on the mentors, to make you look directly responsible, especially in a poor district like this. But maybe we can turn it around."

"How?"

"By working together. The whole district has always been so helpless when our tributes go. But we know a few things about survival!"

"And we've got a lot of smart people," Katniss breathed. Her panic began to recede. "I'm going to talk to Mayor Undersee. Even Cray. Maybe they can help. If I have to donate my 'heirloom' to the cause, I'll do it."

"We can do this," he told her fiercely. But then, "And, Katniss... even if we lose them... nobody'll be able to say you didn't do all you could. Everyone will see where the blame belongs. Not with the district. Not with you."

Her first stop after sending Prim off to school was the mayor's house. Madge wasn't surprised to see her and hugged her. "I almost came over last night just to see how you were holding up!"

"I've been... up and down," Katniss admitted, chuckling weakly. "Is your father free, or is there a time I could come back?"

"We're ahead of you, young lady," called an amused voice from the mayor's study. "Why don't you join us?"

Us? Uh-oh. Still, she went, and found Cray and Darius there as well. "The calls are already coming into the Capitol thick and fast, I'm told,” said the mayor. “All the districts want clarification on what will be allowed or prohibited. The Gamemakers are jumping on it for extra drama, so I think we can expect more announcements."

Katniss pondered this and held up her lists. "Should I wait to start getting things together?"

"No, go ahead, but start on the basics. I'm hoping Peacekeeper Cray will grant you permission to give archery lessons in the meadow to children of reaping age."

Katniss was startled by that, but hope surged through her as Cray considered it. That the request was coming from the mayor himself was a powerful point.  "We were just warned at inspection to watch for arming citizens. That you'd only be working with potential tributes would help, but... I trust you'd have no objection to Peacekeeper supervision?"

Well, yes, actually I would, but I don't have much choice, do I? Well, when in doubt, channel Effie. "Of course not!" she chirped.

"I'll assign Darius and a couple of others to supervise the tribute supply efforts. They'll hold weapons until the tribute train leaves."

Katniss managed to keep her relieved sigh quiet. "Thank you. After all, Career districts will be seriously stockpiling weapons. We have to do it somehow."

The mayor met her eyes with a strange, intense expression.  She hadn’t seen him ever look really determined about anything.  "We will, Katniss. We will."

And so it began. Katniss found that Gale was right in his assessment of at least part of the situation:  this twist had given the districts and their people a chance to act in a way that had never been permitted before. Rooba waylaid her on her way home from the mayor's house. "You're going to need some good, practical knives. Come see me before you buy them; I can give you some advice.  Come see me for anything else, for that matter."

"I had some dried beef in my pack last year," Katniss mused. "Is that something you could make?"

"Dried meat's good. It'll last them," said Rooba thoughtfully. "I don’t make a lot of it at once, but we can figure it out and I'll have it ready for reaping day." She patted Katniss on the shoulder.

As the mayor had predicted, the Capitol seized upon the excitement of the districts' preparations and began broadcasting specials about it. Katniss made sure to turn them on, and she and Prim and her mother would each sit with a piece of paper and take frantic notes. She couldn't always hold back a shudder when Plutarch Heavensbee appeared for interviews, but at least he was informative.

" We've got a lot of questions from districts about what will be permitted ," said Plutarch. " So what everyone needs to keep in mind is the importance of the message behind the Quarter Quells - a reminder of the suffering that resulted from the Dark Days. Even in the Hunger Games, the Capitol provisions its tributes with everything that they need to become a victor, from food, water, and shelter to the clothes on their backs and the resources of the arena. This year's Quell is meant to reinforce that lesson and show the districts just how difficult it would be for them to survive without everything we do for them ."

"Clothes on their backs!" Prim hissed.

"Shh!" urged their mother, but she was writing fast.

" One thing that everyone seems to want to know is whether anything is prohibited ," said Caesar. " Can you give us any insight there? "

Plutarch nodded and smiled. " I think it's going to be much more interesting if we let the simple realities of the situation set the limits. So nothing is against the rules except the usual prohibitions for sponsor gifts: no guns, no high explosives, no poisons except what can be manufactured from the arena itself. "

"I'm going to throw out all Haymitch's liquor if he isn't awake yet," Katniss muttered. "He's done sponsor gifts before; he'll know what's allowed."

Caesar went on, " So no restrictions on how much they spend or where they obtain their materials? Or how much is sent? "

" No restrictions of that sort, no. But I doubt that funding alone will determine the outcome here. After all, in each case, it's two tributes and their individual requirements and limitations, which we won't know until reaping day ."

" Plutarch, I have to say, this is going to be one of the most fascinating Games in history!” gushed Caesar. “I think I speak for all of us when I say I'm absolutely dying to see what the districts come up with! "

Well, twenty-three of us will be dying to show you , Katniss thought sourly. As the broadcast ended, she said aloud, "So, clothes. And shoes. That's another thing." She sighed, fighting that ever-present urge to either panic or collapse - or both.

"And we won't know what sizes until reaping day," said her mother. "I wonder...when will the supplies have to be ready? If you and Haymitch could use that final hour after the reaping to narrow down the supplies, that could be a big help."

"And can you and Haymitch send specific things into the arena in parachutes?" asked Prim. "Since you won't know what kind of place it is until then."

Katniss wrote those things down on a list of questions for the mayor to send to the Capitol. "I wish I had some idea of what sort of arena it would be. Just knowing the type of ground or the weather would narrow down what we need. Only a few days since the reading of the card and all my lists are pages long."

"You know..." She looked up at her mother's reluctant face. "The Justice Building has an archive of all the Games highlights. Every year, every arena, or most of them, except for the very oldest when they didn’t do highlight reels."

"I can help you there somewhat," said a voice from the doorway, and Katniss turned to see Haymitch, awake and sober, but looking more haggard than any hangover would cause. "I've seen a third of 'em."

"Thanks," she replied quietly. Haymitch sat down next to her and took one of her lists.

"Right. Let's get to work, then."

To Be Continued...

Chapter Text

Katniss decided to approach the Parsons about a commission to put together the tributes’ clothes. Cinna reluctantly told her on the telephone that he wasn't permitted to assist, but that he was sure the Parsons could figure out and make garments with the necessary level of protection and functionality. 

He was right. Alice and Birch Parson were already brainstorming, joined by the other two tailors in the town, when Katniss and Haymitch arrived.

"We're thinking three possible environments," said Birch, pulling up chairs. "Hot, cold, or temperate. There's also the question of what the child's age and size will be, unless someone's willing to volunteer ahead of time."

Katniss felt queasy just thinking about that. "I don't know if I could even ask that," she croaked.

Alice patted her hand sympathetically. "If someone's got that notion in their head, I'm sure they'll come see you. Now what about we go heavy on the elastic and do ranges of sizes? We could probably get away with five or six sets."

"Have you got enough materials?" asked Haymitch. "If not, we need to send for more and hope that it arrives in time."

"I think so. We'll cannibalize things if need be," said one of the other seamstresses.  “Once we’re agreed on the designs, we’re going to divide the jobs up between our three workshops.  That should get everything ready in plenty of time.

"That's good. Give the bills to Katniss, and be honest about the prices. I'll handle payment, but let her keep track of the paperwork."

At least Katniss didn't ask Haymitch to watch the archive tapes with her. Still, aware of the unpleasantness of that job, he sat down for a job of his own and made a list of every hazard he could remember from every Hunger Games he had mentored, as well as the ones he recalled from his childhood. He tallied up the ones that appeared most often: fire, poison, avalanches, floods, mutts, heat/cold exposure, and considered ways the tributes could have been forearmed.

It was its own special hell, but he did it. And mostly sober.

Most of the work was falling on Katniss by default, because most people in the district preferred coming to her over coming to Haymitch, and it still went against her grain to ask for assistance. So he had to regularly sound out Primrose and Clara for what people were seeking from her so he could volunteer to handle this or that.

One thing he did have to offer in spades beyond her was the money. Aside from liquor and food and replacements for worn-out clothes, he'd spent only a minute fraction of his income, and it had accumulated impressively in his vault at the Justice Building. So he firmly volunteered to handle seeing that all those in the districts who contributed to their tributes' supplies were properly compensated. And there were lots of people contributing. 

Gale Hawthorne's prediction had been correct:  the Gamemakers probably hadn't expected how strongly this Quell's twist would bring people in the districts together. Helplessness wasn't accepted as easily as they might have thought.

(Then again, maybe the Head Gamemaker had expected precisely this.  Haymitch could only hope Plutarch really was that clever.)

The tailors in town had only a small amount of synthetic or high-tech material available, and after a lot of stewing, they elected to use that for the tributes' packs. "That sort of special waterproof stuff wasn't always around to make clothes, and if our ancestors could survive without it, so can we," said Alice Parson. "Better to keep their supplies safe from weather."

Attendance at school dropped to the point where the mayor commented on it (but didn't complain) because so many merchants were keeping their children home to help with the work. The Cartwrights were preparing twenty different pairs of shoes in the style of Katniss's beloved hunting boots. The tailors had divided up the sets of clothing needed and hired almost anyone who could competently hold a needle. 

Coils of good rope, matches, sleeping bags, wire and twine were piled up in Haymitch’s study. Darius "discovered" a few bows and arrows in storage that must have been confiscated from people years ago and brought them to Katniss's practice sessions in the meadow.

Katniss spent numerous long and late evenings at the Justice Building watching Hunger Games highlight tapes. Finally, one night, she joined Haymitch as he departed with a bag of coins from his vault to pay the latest round of bills. "So that's all of them," she sighed, holding up a huge sheaf of notes.  “All the ones available, anyway - they only went back as far as the Eleventh Games.”

He waited until they'd finished their visits and payments to the merchants and were on the road back to the Victors' Village. "So?"

"That thing you did with the force field. Is that why he killed your family?"

Haymitch had known it was coming. He nodded. "And as an example for the others to follow. That may well be why you got a warning rather than just an execution." She flinched. "He knew you'd ask me about it."

Her hand found his even in near total darkness. They both had gone down this road enough to not need a lantern or a flashlight. "There was something else I noticed," she said. "About the victors." He groaned inwardly. He'd hoped she wouldn't catch this: "Even for Career districts, no district ever wins two years in a row. Except District 1 with Cashmere and Gloss."

Yep. Damn. "I wasn't going to say it, but yeah, they're the one and only exception to that unwritten rule." He gave her hand a little squeeze.

Her voice shook. "How did you do it, Haymitch? All this time?"

"I got drunk and stayed drunk and told myself I didn't give a shit anymore," he replied. She laughed, but her voice still shook. He pretended not to notice.

There wasn't any point in Katniss dwelling on all the obstacles that District 12 was up against, including the fact that only once had a district ever claimed the crown two years in a row. Even in the powerhouse Career districts like Two and Four who consistently put up well-trained and well-sponsored tributes, something always happened the year after their victory - some unexpected disaster or turn of apparent luck. 

And after Katniss had presented a threat to the Capitol, what chance was there of a District 12 victory being permitted again, her first year as a mentor?

Still, what could she do about that? Announce it and give up? Start drinking? Sometimes she felt an intense desire to do both.

To her greater consternation, Prim told her that the teachers were wondering if she would come and address the classes of reaping age students. But she couldn't exactly refuse. She fretted and paced around the house and the Village, and Prim helped her prepare with some notes on the things that she'd heard her classmates asking about.

On the appointed day, she accompanied Prim to the school, and decided that in some ways, this was more nerve-wracking than the interviews with Caesar Flickerman had been. There was something especially intimidating about appearing to speak in front of people you actually knew, people you would see again, who you mostly respected and whose good opinions you wanted, rather than a crowd of contemptible  strangers. She at least got to keep some notes in hand, unlike the Games interviews, and found herself staring down at the notes to avoid looking at the faces of twelve and thirteen-year-olds and each older grade behind them in the big school assembly room.

She began by re-reading the card and explaining what "we mentors" thought it meant, and how everyone in the district was helping prepare the food, clothes, and supplies that would go into the arena. She gave the kids suggestions of what they could do to prepare in case they were reaped: come to her archery lessons. Learn to tie knots and throw knives and climb trees. Eat and try to gain some weight.

Learn to kill and decide how you'll live with it. She didn't say that.

“Embrace the probability of your imminent death and know in your heart that there's nothing I can do to save you.” She didn't say that either. 

"I'll... I'll tell you something that Haymitch told me." Liar. " There may not be... a lot of what happens comes down to luck. Circumstance. I wish... I wish I could tell you some special secret, or give you some magic weapon." Don't cry don't cry don't cry. "I can't do that. But I promise..." Breathe. "We'll do everything we can. We won't give up."

She forced herself to look up. It was so much like the actual reaping, having all of them gathered together. The only real difference was that it was indoors. Some faces were frightened. Some sad. Some angry. But many determined.

Then a soft voice spoke up from the front of the room where the youngest kids had gathered (also unlike the reaping - today they just needed to be able to see and hear.) "Thank you, Miss Katniss."

Then Katniss got a surprise: applause. No salute, which was a good thing because she probably would have cried. But a salute wasn't called for anyway - nobody was leaving yet. This they approved. Her words and her actions were welcome. Her veiled apology was understood by many and accepted.

A few of the teachers did cry when they came to shake hands with her as the assembly broke up. "Bless you, dear," whispered Mrs. Mercy Hogan, who taught Prim's grade. "We know you'll do your best."

The preparations went on. The Gamemakers confirmed that the mentors would have the final "goodbye hour" after the reaping to add to or reduce their supply stock and move it onto the train, and that they would be permitted to choose from the materials they brought to provide parachutes during the Games - for the usual sponsor fees, of course. Haymitch cursed profusely at that, causing Katniss to ask what some of the "usual sponsor fees" actually were. She'd made some accurate guesses in the past, but his answer led to her doing some profuse cursing in her turn.

"You and I aren't permitted to sponsor," he said. "That'll come down to the usual sources."

Katniss shuddered, remembering what President Snow had told her about seeking sponsorship from her "patrons." She'd been so busy with trying to get supplies worked out for the tributes that she'd even managed to forget the night job she was going to have. Still, she muttered, "I'll do whatever I have to."

Katniss's mother and one of the district doctors went to the school to talk about plants and food. As the final week arrived before the reaping, they placed an order from Rooba for dried meat and selected some long-lasting flat breads at the bakery. They divided up a supply of seeds, nuts, and dried fruit.

"The longest a Games ever ran was three weeks and five days," Katniss was able to report from having watched all the available tapes. "But that was over thirty years ago and considered way too drawn out. Most of them average about two and a half weeks now." And I really hope whatever knowledge I've gained from those tapes is worth the extra nightmares.

"We can supply enough to prevent starvation," sighed her mother as they struggled to pack everything as small as possible. "But it's simply not possible to do that with water. Even an athletic eighteen-year-old couldn't carry that much weight on his person and still be able to move. Unless they provide water in the arena in some way, everyone will be dead of thirst within a week at most."

"I'd bet good money they'll withhold water for at least the first couple of days," said Gale, scowling.

Rory was up for his first reaping, and Gale would probably have quit the mines that final week if he could. Haymitch was the one who had dissuaded him. "If our coal production suffers, you can bet they'll find a way to make the tributes pay. Let Katniss and me handle the planning." But Gale still came over every day before dawn and again after dusk, shorting himself on sleep to help with the preparations.

"A half-gallon canteen, I think," her mother finally decided. "Full up, and another one empty. More in reserve. Oh, god!" She sat down and buried her face in her hands. Prim leaped to throw her arms around her. "What are we doing?! "

"Trying to save lives, Clara," Haymitch surprised them all by saying gently. "Same thing you've always done." But even as he reached past Prim to squeeze her shoulder, they all caught the warning in his eyes.

Hold it in. Don't talk about it. Not here. Especially not so close to the reaping. Too much depends on their whims.

He took Katniss's mother out "to get some air" after dinner while Prim, Katniss, and Gale continued working. That night, Katniss saw her mother open a bottle of the medicine she'd said would prevent the depression that had crippled her mind after Katniss's father died. Without speaking, Katniss went to her and held onto her for a long time. They gazed out the window in silence, then went back to work.

Katniss didn't let her mother or Prim see the weapons they assembled. She and Haymitch and Gale did that with Darius. Katniss insisted on at least two of everything. Despite Haymitch's warning, she couldn't see herself abandoning a tribute, no matter how hopeless their odds, at the outset. 

Four bows of various sizes. Two quivers of arrows. Two knives with double-blades like the one that Katniss had obtained in her Games - good as tools but also for a fight. Two machetes. Katniss's archery lessons had swelled to the dozens, but other adults and older children had joined in to teach skills like knife-throwing, which was a common enough game even with Peacekeepers around.

They even went to the mine headquarters and considered their tools as possible weapons, and ended up with a pair of small but heavy mallets - good for breaking rocks, crushing nuts, or at worst, cracking a skull. They all spoke in gruff voices when choosing it from the options available at the mines, then Katniss ran behind a slag pile to vomit her guts out.

Gale was sitting with her when Haymitch came around to join them, bringing some water. Washing out her mouth, she considered something, then said, "Give us a second, Gale." A little puzzled, Gale went off. Haymitch raised his eyebrows, and Katniss glared at him. "Don't you dare show up drunk at the reaping, Haymitch. Not like last year. You might as well have not been there at all."

It didn't take him long to figure out what she meant, and he could hardly complain that she was interfering with his drinking. She meant, don't you dare leave me up there alone.

He didn't answer her, but she knew he got the message.

Eight sets of tribute clothing for three possible environments: very hot, very cold, temperate. Delly Cartwright and the Parsons' two daughters had gone so far as to visit every class in school and determine if anyone of reaping age was so far above or so far below expected size that they would need something made specially. Luckily, there were very few apart from a couple of extra sets of shoes for overly large or overly small feet.

"How the hell are they doing this in Eleven?" Katniss wondered to Haymitch. "With all those people..."

"Set their sizes and hope for the best," he replied. He could imagine that Chaff and the others were running pretty ragged by then.

Good miners' tool belts, specially adapted for the likelihood of being worn by skinny children, with extra loops, hooks and buckles. That had been Gale's suggestion when he'd brought Mr. Baron Flint, the tanner, to the house. Katniss, already fretting about how much weight anyone could carry on their back, had spontaneously kissed Mr. Flint on the cheek when he'd sketched out his proposed belt.

Katniss had abandoned her own clothes designing pretensions so the Parsons could concentrate on the huge tribute order without her under their feet, but she still visited them often with payments and to see how they were progressing. Delly and several other reaping-age girls were subduing their own anxieties by helping out and applying their own skills to the preparations. Once the fabrics to provide the most protection with the least weight and most comfort were selected, the main debate had been how much functionality they could work into a single shirt or pair of pants. 

Chants of "pockets, pockets, pockets!" were frequently heard around the workroom, and once or twice it was even enough to make Katniss grin. 

They gathered up all manner of little tools, odds and ends, and gadgets from around the district, items that seemed unlikely to be needed, but if it had some sort of utility, they packed it under the doctrine of “you never know.”  

Katniss suspected they used up every shred of plastic available in the district to seal up the foodstuffs and medical supplies, but she had seen too many tributes (including a large number of Careers) over decades of Games tapes killed or fatally weakened by the destruction or contamination of their supplies to be willing to skimp on it. 

One thing she could at least be sure of was that every child of reaping age in District 12 now knew how many drops of iodine solution were needed to purify water and the steps to take for filtering, boiling, or freezing to make it drinkable. She had taught everyone she could some basic knots, if not snares, but had written that down to give to the tributes once actual training started. They had gone over the food that would be provided and the bare minimum that a person should try to eat and drink in a day to keep their energy up.

Sometimes Katniss felt encouraged, more prepared than any tributes in the past had been. Then she remembered that every other district was preparing in the same way, and the Career districts had the further advantage of knowing precisely who would be their tributes, to say nothing of the money and resources behind them. 

"Don't think about it, don't think about it," she muttered to herself every time that train of thought started up.

Sometimes she saw Haymitch watching her with pain in his eyes, but then they would both look away. She suspected he thought the whole thing an exercise in futility and that he was humoring her more than anything else, but he didn't say it and she didn't ask. At least he always took on whatever tasks she asked and stayed sober enough to help.

During the last couple of days before the reaping, everything went into crates and boxes for the train. The tailors sorted the clothes into sets by size, and Delly and the girls had written down the measurements of every single reaping-age child whose parents would allow it, so they'd know at once which set was needed. Alice and Birch Parson collected the measurement notes and promised to have them at the reaping. 

They stocked the packs with the medical kits and food, and the weapons went into more crates in the custody of Peacekeeper Darius. "You've done good, you know," he whispered to Katniss as they sealed the crates up. "Everyone's talking about it. You're amazing."

She felt a tightness in her throat that she would never have expected towards someone who wasn't from her district, let alone a Peacekeeper. But she replied, "Tell me if they still feel that way when we get back."

"They will. I'm sure of it. They know you've done all you can."

She left in a hurry. She was on her bed, sobbing in deep, desperate gasps as she fought not to scream them out, when Prim and her mother came in. She tried to stop then, but couldn't. They sat on either side of her and stroked her hair. "You don't have to pretend with us," Prim told her.

So she cried that last night before the reaping for the better part of two hours.

She refused her mother’s offer of sleep syrup, despite knowing that even though she had cried herself out, sleep wouldn't come easily. She would need to be alert in the morning.

She expected the nightmares to be worse than ever, but her brain surprised her: Peeta was in her dreams, of course, but it wasn't exactly a bad dream or happy dream. Sitting on a crate by the train, he had repeated what so many people had spoken to her in the last few weeks.

“ Everyone knows you've done everything you can. Whatever happens now isn't your fault, and nobody will blame you.”

Strangely, he was wearing her mockingjay pin.

To Be Continued...

Chapter Text

The day of the reaping dawned hot and sultry. Katniss found the mockingjay pin on her nightstand, though she couldn't remember herself or Prim taking it out of its box in the nightstand drawer last night.

Effie arrived just after noon with a package of clothes from Cinna. She was wearing fuchsia and silver this year and a platinum blonde wig. She was all enthusiasm as some of the crates and boxes were loaded onto the train. "My word, you two have been busy! This is amazing! I know everyone's just perishing with curiosity!"

"You sure I can't get drunk?" Haymitch muttered in Katniss’s ear. It must have been the tension, because Katniss started giggling.

Darius presided over loading the weapons for the train. Katniss wanted to thank him, knowing he'd done all he could to get her the items and the opportunity to train people, giving her a free hand at her lessons in the meadow and looking the other way when she sneaked into the woods with Gale and their groups of pupils, even managing to warn them ahead of time when less sympathetic Peacekeepers were around. But Haymitch tugged her elbow, and with the camera crews already prowling around her as last year's victor (and Haymitch as the victor of the previous Quarter Quell) she only dared a polite, "Thank you, Peacekeeper Darius." 

Darius was all formality too, but Katniss noticed he stayed at the train to keep watch over the supplies. 

At home, Prim got dressed for the reaping, and Katniss felt panic rising. What if President Snow had lied? What if their "good luck" with the Peacekeepers' inspection and Cray's complacency and the mayor's assistance would all end with Prim being reaped after all? There would be nothing Katniss could do, and Prim would go into the arena...

"It's okay, Katniss," Prim insisted, albeit in a trembling voice. "My name is only in twice, after all."

That's more than last year, and all they'd have to do is add extras again .

"Hey." Haymitch came in, well-dressed and clean this time, but with a bottle of white liquor in his hand. Katniss managed to forget her anxiety in her fury at him, but he pulled a small tumbler from their cupboard. "This is all I'm having," he informed her as he filled it and tossed it down. Then, to her confusion, he refilled it about a third of the way and held it out. "Trust me, sweetheart. You'll need it."

"Go ahead, Katniss," her mother surprised her by saying. 

So Katniss drank the vile stuff, coughed up a storm as it burned her throat, and chugged a full glass of water. At least the discomfort and disgusting taste was a distraction for a few minutes.

Her newest gift from Cinna was a black pants suit and silk blouse, elegant but simple, and shiny black walking shoes. Her mother put her hair up into a braid, then wound it into a bun. She shook her head at the mirror behind Katniss. "You could be twenty."

Katniss managed not to shudder. "Should I pack anything?" she remembered to ask Haymitch with half an hour to go before they had to leave.

"Don't forget your pin," he said, and Prim rushed up the stairs with a yelp. "Other than that, not really, unless you've got something you especially want to take."

"We could bundle up your notes," suggested her mother as Prim came back and pinned the mockingjay over her heart. 

"That's a good idea," Katniss agreed, and they gathered the notes together and put them in an emptied folder. 

"Katniss," her mother caught her hand as they headed out the door. "I'm very proud of you," she whispered. "Everyone is." 

That little shot of liquor had helped Katniss force her surging emotions down, and she didn't want them to come back up. Plus, if they did, she had a feeling the liquor would too, and she did not want to taste it again. So she gave her mother’s hand a quick squeeze, then they walked quickly up to join Prim and Haymitch. 

Once inside the Justice Building, Katniss kept peeking through the cracked doors past the waiting Peacekeepers. "Katniss, for goodness’ sake, sit down and calm down!" Effie urged. 

"Sorry," she mumbled, but kept looking.

There was Rory. And Gale with Hazelle and the rest of the Hawthornes with Katniss's mother outside the ropes. Oh, Gale. I'll try. If it's Rory... stop thinking about it! I’m supposed to reassure them!

She was a tribute no more, but she would have to keep that schooled, blank face at reapings for the rest of her life, not for her own life, but for theirs. Whoever they were. Would it be better if it was someone she knew, someone she had trained? Or one of the ones who had avoided the training and the preparations?  STOP THINKING ABOUT IT!

She plunked herself into a seat with Haymitch. "So what's the drill?" she asked, even though she'd seen it all her life.

"We go out at five to two. Mayor does his usual spiel of history, introduces you and me and Effie. She draws the names, the tributes get an hour to say their goodbyes. We get that hour to double-check supplies, they say. We meet the tributes on the train."

She looked at him. Calm, quiet, some hint of resolve about him. Sober, as he'd promised. "Thanks, Haymitch," she murmured.

Effie reached across from her chair to pat Katniss's knee. "Everyone's a little nervous their first time, Katniss. It'll be fine." She glanced at an elegant little fob watch studded with diamonds. "Shall we?"

Being on the reaping stage this time felt a thousand times worse than the previous year. Before, they had all stared at her with pity, with admiration, with the expectation that she would never return. Their salute had touched her deeply, but the memory of it felt muted now compared to the desperation, the hope that seemed to be pinned on her by their glances as surely as the mockingjay over her heart.

You can save us, can't you? those thousands of eyes seemed to say. Surely you can save us.

Forgive me, she wanted to collapse on the stage and cry out. Forgive me when I fail.

There were four chairs on the stage now. Katniss found herself between Haymitch and the mayor, which was something of a relief, because Effie in full bubbly mode was a little more than she could take at the moment. She tried to gaze at a point beyond most of the faces in the square below and not actually look anyone in the eye. But she couldn't seem to stop.

There were the Parsons with Delly's notes in their hands. Alice had her arm around the older girl, Jessamine. Jessie would be up for reaping next year. Birch had his arm around Beatrice, the little one who was only a year older than Posy Hawthorne. 

Delly was with the seventeen-year-olds, standing next to Madge Undersee. Her younger brother, Jonathan, was in the back with the twelve-year-old boys. So was Rory. Rory hadn't taken tesserae, and it was a safe bet Johnny Cartwright hadn't either, so their names would be in the ball only once.

Like Prim's last year. Katniss wrenched her eyes from them, but caught both Delly and Madge giving her smiles. They, eligible to be tributes, were trying to reassure her . Her throat tightened, but she forced her lips to curve in response and hoped it looked like a smile and not the lunacy she felt like she was sinking into. It was the least she could do. 

There were the Mellarks, together safely behind the ropes. Tate and Miller with Mr. Mellark, and their mother, who despite the growing crowd, seemed to have a small space around her. The baker nodded when Katniss looked at him. For a moment, her vision blurred, and there were three blond boys there instead of two. All safe now from the reaping.

It must have been the sun.

When the clock struck two, Katniss jumped, but luckily the mayor was rising and Haymitch shifted to let him pass, so it probably wasn't obvious. Mayor Undersee wound his way through the usual welcomes and the historical recap, then half turned, and smiled faintly. "District 12 has carried the day three times: the Tenth Hunger Games, the Fiftieth Hunger Games with Haymitch Abernathy," Haymitch half-rose in his seat and nodded curtly. Katniss thought the applause sounded a little more enthusiastic than last year, which was a good thing if she was going to keep Haymitch sober at future reapings. "And finally, last year, at the Seventy-Fourth Hunger Games with Katniss Everdeen!"

Katniss started to imitate Haymitch's rise-and-nod, but the roar of near-elation and frenzied clapping from the crowd was so intense that she almost jumped back. She managed a weak smile and stood up straight, but her emotions warred between feeling flattered and feeling total despair. She sat back down in a rush and joined in the token applause for Effie with more enthusiasm than needed. Effie beamed at her in gratitude and strutted up to the podium. At least her back was to Katniss so she couldn't see Katniss's breathing speed up as memory overwhelmed her. 

Blank face. She'll say "Ladies first." Blank. Totally blank. 

Katniss braced herself. She felt Haymitch shift on her right, ever so slightly closer to her. The crowd drew its breath. Katniss held hers as Effie plucked the fatal slip and returned to the podium. Not Prim not Prim notPrimnotPrimnotPrim no blankblankblankblankblank...

"Anise McRae."

Not Prim. 

President Snow had kept his word. Not Prim. 

Blank.

Not Prim.

Anise McRae?

The name was vaguely familiar, and it was a Seam girl with straight, dark hair and dark skin who slowly, deliberately stepped from the fourteen-year-olds' group and began to walk. Was this how Katniss had looked? No, she'd been desperate, rushing to reach Prim. Maybe this was how she had looked later. Every cautious step to the stage was forced, as if the simple act of walking was a forgotten skill and had to be carefully taken. 

Up the stairs, clutching the rail for dear life, gray eyes round with shock, olive skin pasty from being drained of blood, to Effie’s beckoning hand. "Welcome, Anise! And now, do we have any volunteers?"

A slight movement beyond the ropes drew Katniss's eyes to a Seam couple, clutching each other with catastrophe in their eyes. 

No other children. 

Silence. 

No volunteer this year. 

Like Rue.

Not Prim.

Then Effie's voice drew her back. "And now, we will choose our boy tribute!"

This time, Katniss had time to think of Gale, and even to remember that Gale was beyond the rope, safe. But when she found him next to Hazelle and her mother, even as her mother was breathing deeply in relief for Prim, she saw that Gale was that same pasty color as Anise. 

Not Prim.

Rory?!

Effie marched back to the podium. Katniss hadn't even seen her take out the slip. 

"Glen Sheridan."

Katniss hadn't managed to blank her face in time, and her breath left in a rush. 

Not Rory. 

A boy stiffened among the fifteen-year-olds, a blond haired, blue eyed boy far too close in age to Peeta. Then he walked, with a hardness to his face more reminiscent of Gale than Peeta. That was a relief too. He looked at none of them as he joined Effie at the podium.

"Do we have any male volunteers today?"

Silence. Katniss searched and once again quickly found his family - the ones in a clump of blond merchants including the Cartwrights. A mother was sobbing into a father's chest. They had three younger children with them - two boys and a girl - each caught in the arms of another adult to keep them from running under the rope after their brother. 

Like Gale. But not Rory. 

One thing was similar to last year, Katniss barely heard the Treaty of Treason. Her mind began to race again. There was Alice Parson, flipping through her notes. Gale was breathing heavily in his relief for Rory but staring hard at the tributes, undoubtedly thinking of their lists of supplies, whether there was anything he knew of these two that could be of use.

Katniss dared a glance at them. Only able to see their profiles from this angle, she placed them. Anise McRae had been to the trainings. She was an only child. Katniss searched her mind but couldn't find any particular memory of this particular girl. So she hadn't excelled in anything, but at least she'd been there and had a go on the bow and probably at the other things Katniss and Gale had taught. It was something.

Glen Sheridan. Katniss didn't recognize him and didn't think he had ever come to the meadow practices. Mr. Sheridan... that was a man who did some blacksmithing and metal work in the town. He made some of the tools the miners used. He had sold them some knives for the tribute supplies. Yes, that was him being comforted by the Cartwrights. Katniss sized the son up from the corner of her eye, and noticed broad shoulders and some burn scars on his hands. That was a relief; he looked reasonably strong. Anise McRae was thin, but not deathly so like some Seam kids. Both of her parents looked like they were still miners, so if she was the only child, maybe they had been able to keep her fed and halfway healthy.

The mayor finished the Treaty of Treason and stepped back, gesturing to Anise and Glen to shake hands. They did, meeting each other's eyes for that stunned half-second, and followed the Peacekeepers to the doors. 

Haymitch rose and Katniss echoed him as the front doors closed behind the tributes, and the mayor and Effie turned to follow.

What happened next was so unlike any reaping in the past that everyone still on the stage turned to stare. Normally, the children stumbled sluggishly out, returned to the arms of their relieved, dazed families. Those who were friends of the tributes' families made their way towards them, to offer what solace could be had. Voices murmured as if at a funeral, which for so many years, in so many ways, it had always been.

Not today: the crowd scattered. The Parsons took off at a run, Alice and Birch gesturing wildly at Haymitch and Katniss to join them. Delly went tearing after them, shouting, "Glen's a size eleven!" Even the camera crews looked startled.

A group of Seam kids clustered together, chattering, then began waving wildly at Katniss, trying to yell some advice about Anise. Katniss turned twice in confusion, not sure where to go. "I'll meet you at the Parsons'," Haymitch muttered in her ear, then went to the doors.

Katniss hurried down the stairs and was swamped by teenagers all talking at once. "WAIT!" bellowed someone. It was Mr. Flint, putting his undamaged lungs to good use. "You girls, friends of Anise! Do the Parsons know her size?"

"Yes!" several girls chorused. 

"Good, good. Now tell Katniss what she's good at."

"She can throw!" one girl gasped. "And she can tie... things."

Snares. She's been in the woods. "Good," Katniss croaked. "We'll have twine and rope. What else?"

"She's fast," someone else offered. "Real fast!"

"Next, you boys! Tell her about Glen!"

"He's strong. He does smithing with his dad!" a boy exclaimed. "I dunno, a hammer?"

"Yeah, hammers! Like clubs!"

Mr. Flint patted Katniss on the arm. "I've got an idea, I'll run and get some things." He jogged off.

"Can Glen use knives?" she asked urgently, mostly just to pay attention to both of their abilities.  "Tie knots?"

"Uh... probably."

She quizzed Anise and Glen’s friends and neighbors until someone shouted, "Katniss, forty-five minutes!" 

"I have to go. Thank you all!" 

"Bye, Katniss!"

"Good luck!"

"Thanks, Katniss!"

At least Cinna hadn't sent her high heels. Katniss ran all the way to the Parsons' shop. 

Alice and Birch were already there with Delly and Haymitch, inventorying the two clothing boxes. "We have Anise's measurements. We didn't have Glen's on the list, but I figured it out. We've made shoes for him before," said Delly. She tugged one box open and counted the items out. "Parka, regular jacket, long shirt, T-shirt, underclothes, winter pants, plain pants, light pants. Boots, socks. Gloves."

They repeated their check on Anise's box, then loaded them into a car. Mr. Flint appeared with a new box. "Some things for the boy that he might be able to use as weapons," he told Katniss. 

"Thank you," she breathed. She and Haymitch piled into the car to another chorus of shouts of farewell and encouragement. Haymitch was blank-faced through it all. Well, at least he's sober. He helped her unload the boxes and check them again at the train station, and then re-check the ones they had already loaded. 

Darius gave Katniss a hand up into the baggage car and closed the door before opening the weapons boxes to re-check them and see what Mr. Flint had brought. "Ooh. Wow. Blacksmith indeed."

More hammers, but longer handled with heavier heads than the little pair Katniss and Gale had chosen. Anyone who managed to swing one of these could wreak some serious carnage. Darius gave Katniss a wry look as he stashed them in the weapons crates. "That's everything," said Haymitch. He tugged Katniss upright. "They're as stocked as you can make them."

Darius reopened the door to get out and helped Katniss down past the camera crews. She felt him squeeze her arm in farewell. Haymitch joined her, and they made their way past the crowd to the front of the train. Haymitch boarded at once, but Katniss broke away when she saw her mother, Prim, and the Hawthornes. 

She hugged her mother and sister in an explosion of flashbulbs, and then the Hawthornes as a group, all pale with exhaustion and relief. "Off you go, Catnip," Gale murmured, then said louder, "Good luck, Cuz." 

That made her smile genuinely for the first time all day, and she squeezed his arm even as the mayor appeared to say, "It's time, Katniss."

"Good luck, Katniss!"

"Bye, Katniss!"

She was made to pause again in the doorway of the train with the cameras gobbling up their images. It startled her as they were released and she realized it was Haymitch at her side, not Peeta. 

At least she could turn her back by then and escape inside the train before anyone saw the look on her face. She faltered again at finding herself in a different car, and the attendant in the doorway smiled. "This is the mentors' car. Your room's right there, Miss. Dining car on the other side of the tributes. Bar car the other way."

"Thank you," she said wearily. She glanced over her shoulder at Haymitch, who had turned towards the direction of the bar car. "Haymitch!" He looked at her. If she felt drained, Haymitch looked worse. He'd kept his promise, and they both knew it. He didn't even muster up a snide comment, which left her feeling lost. Finally, she spoke in a tone that sounded terribly pleading. "Don't miss dinner."

Without answering, he vanished into his room. Silence crashed down. She wanted to go after him just to escape it.

She stood there stupidly until the train started moving. She stumbled then, aimless, to peer through the doorway of the bar car, and looked back to see that her room actually had her name on it in gold lettering. Katniss Everdeen, Mentor. Well, that was one way to remember so she didn't mistakenly go somewhere else. There was a third compartment in the car entitled "Mentors' Lounge" on Haymitch' side, and a fourth on her side with Effie's name. Katniss was still standing in the narrow hallway when Effie came into the car.

"Katniss, there you are! Good heavens, what have you been doing, rolling around in the dirt?! You're filthy!" 

Katniss opened her mouth to retort, meaning to inquire after the tributes or comment on Haymitch's mood, and burst into tears instead. 

"Oh!" Effie clapped her hands to her cheeks in horror and rushed to her. "Oh, Katniss! There, there, my dear! Are you missing Peeta? Of course, you are. Well, it's been a rather mad day even by our standards, I suppose. But you've done wonderfully, just wonderfully. Everyone is full of praise for how hard you've worked and how you've brought Haymitch back under control. Don't cry, Katniss, please, don't cry!"

As much as what she actually said was nonsense, there was actual concern behind it, and Katniss tried if only for that reason to get a grip on herself. Then Effie was nudged aside, and Haymitch, far less concerned about getting dirt on his clothes, simply pulled her into his arms. "It's okay, sweetheart. It'll be okay," he said quietly, patting her back.

"I'm sorry!" she sobbed. "I'm sorry!"

"Let's sit you down," Effie urged, and she and Haymitch led Katniss into the lounge. He sat her on a plush, comfortable couch and kept an arm around her while Effie patted her head. "You're just a little overwhelmed. This Quell has put a lot of work on you, and you've done all you could."

"What if it's not enough?!" she demanded, anger finally giving her the strength to get the tears to stop. 

Haymitch was silent. Effie shot him a frantic look, but neither one could come up with an answer. 

After an hour, a shower in the hottest water she could stand, and changing into some clean clothes, Katniss felt better. She let her hair down in its regular braid and washed her face with hot and cold water until the signs of her tears were gone. She wasn't at all hungry, but decided she should go to dinner and talk to the tributes.

The tributes. Her tributes. Anise McRae and Glen Sheridan. First pair of…how many, two every year, for the rest of Katniss’s life.

She nearly stayed in her room, feeling a sudden, panicky fear of facing them. 

Enough. Pull it together. They need you.

She squared her shoulders and marched toward the dining car. She had a job to do. 

Haymitch was already at the table. That was a surprise. And he was still sober. That was a bigger surprise. But he looked a bit smug. That shouldn't surprise. "What?"

"Thanks," she said. 

He shrugged. "You cried all over me this year, I spewed all over you last year. We're even." 

Katniss burst out laughing. This situation had her emotions seesawing like crazy. She was still grinning and Haymitch was still smirking when Effie ushered Anise McRae into the car. The Seam girl had changed into a soft navy blue dress, and her gray eyes darted around the car, taking it all in. Did I look like that? Katniss wondered. But she found herself half-rising to beckon the younger girl to a chair. Effie vanished and reappeared a moment later with Glen Sheridan.

"Now, have you both met Katniss and Haymitch?" she chirped as she settled herself.

Two pairs of dazed eyes stared at her. Katniss cleared her throat. "I think I remember you from the archery training," she said to Anise. She turned her gaze to Glen. "Were you there?"

"No, I never went," the boy mumbled, staring at the table.

Did I sound like that?

"Well, if you hadn't, here she is, District 12's newest victor! Technically, she's assigned to Anise and Haymitch is assigned to Glen, but I'm sure each of them will be happy to give advice to you both." Katniss nodded confirmation. Anise shot a quick, nervous smile at Haymitch, but Glen didn't look up. 

Dinner was silent, apart from Effie's usual chatter. The food left both tributes as astonished as it had Katniss and Peeta the year before. The soup was rich with tomatoes and basil, followed by salad, then slices of pork tenderloin and roasted new potatoes, fruit and cheese, and a sponge cake covered in fluffy whipped cream. 

Katniss was relieved that Effie found no fault with either of the tributes' table manners; Glen's were quite good, and while Anise was a little awkward, she obviously knew how to use a knife and fork. Haymitch had wine, as did Effie, but while Katniss caught him looking at his glass as if he wanted to chug it, he drank it at the same pace Effie did and only got one refill. Katniss wanted to hug him.

"Feeling okay?" she asked Anise with a slight grin after the meal was over.

"Wow," the younger girl muttered. The tributes both moved very slowly as they went into the main lounge compartment to watch the other reapings. Katniss kept her attention on Anise and Glen to avoid feeling panicky at the thought of seeing what the result had been in the other districts. At least they both managed to hang onto the meal. 

So maybe this will be one train trip without vomit involved. Hooray. 

Strange how she already felt like old hat at seeing the reapings. Maybe watching all those recaps had dulled the horror of it, or she was already cried out today. Her own stomach lurched at seeing Cashmere and Gloss as the mentors at District 1's reaping. Two Careers volunteered from there, of course, and the same from Districts 2 and 4. A boy volunteered in District 3, which surprised both Haymitch and Effie. He didn't look like much, especially compared to the Careers, but he was eighteen, and Katniss knew that District 3 tributes tended to succeed with their technical skills rather than fighting. 

Her mind latched onto one hopeful fact at the end. "No twelve-year-olds," she sighed aloud.

Aside from the Career districts, most of the tributes were in the same age group - fifteen and sixteen. But there were a couple of thirteen and fourteen-year-olds too, and some small ones, so neither Anise nor Glen looked terribly disadvantaged.

Effie clapped her hands happily as they watched the recap of District 12. "I am so proud of how you conducted yourself, Haymitch!" Katniss winced. Haymitch just scowled. "We put forward a wonderful image this year. You've had such an impact, Katniss. I would never have predicted that you'd bring so much dignity to such an unrefined place!"

Ugh, Effie! Haymitch stalked out of the compartment. A sense of duty to not abandon the tributes to Effie's well-intentioned-but-so-damned-patronizing blather warred in Katniss's mind, but she finally gave up and followed, but forced herself to pause in the doorway. "Try and get some sleep tonight," she told the tributes. "We'll talk in the morning before we get to the Capitol." Then she fled too.

To Be Continued...

Chapter Text

Why the fucking hell am I still sober?!

Because she had asked. Damn it all. She had asked because she was scared, and Haymitch was still her mentor even though he'd acquired a new pair of lambs for slaughter. Whenever he hesitated to oblige her, he could swear he saw Peeta in the corner of his eye, watching.  Reminding Haymitch to look out for Katniss.

But by the time he took off to avoid punching Effie, Haymitch mused that Katniss really had no clue of the misery she was expecting him to tolerate on top of enforced sobriety. Still, he'd actually kept his promise. He'd made it to dinner. He'd gotten through the reaping, even as every minute, every anxious breath, every pair of desperate, reproachful eyes reminded him of all the reasons he preferred to be drunk through it all.

Back in his room, away from that damned interfering, hopeful, determined girl and that damned pair of new infants - another girl from the Seam and boy from the town, just to rub it in - he broke out a bottle of good whiskey, intending to get utterly wasted as fast as possible.

Somehow, he managed to fall asleep halfway through it.

The following morning, he found himself awake before Effie knocked. Odd. Katniss didn't look to have slept so well, but at least she was alert. Rising pre-dawn for hunting was a habit for her. On the other hand, as much as Effie put on a perky act, she wasn't a morning person, so this was the time Haymitch preferred to be as loud and obnoxious as possible. It was only fair considering he had to put up with her chirping and chattering the rest of the time. 

But Katniss forestalled his usual barrage of rude jokes and insults with a genuine question: "So what do we mentors do after the tributes go off to remake? And where do we store the Quell supplies?"

"I have instructions," Effie assured her. "They'll be picked up at the train station and the Gamemakers will stock them in the arena and put the remainder up for sponsoring."

Katniss paled at that, not wanting the stuff out of her control. "What if something happens to it?" she protested.

"Then something happens, sweetheart. If something decides to happen, there’s not a damn thing you or I can do," Haymitch retorted. She stared at him. He sighed heavily at her. "It's a Quarter Quell, Katniss. They can do any damn thing they please and there's not a damn thing anyone can do."

Katniss jerked her head towards the tributes’ rooms. "Are you going to tell them that?"

Damn her. "Not that way, no. But you and I are the mentors. We might as well face it. The twists may still be coming; I gather the Capitol audience is enjoying the 'ongoing excitement' way too much. Bring your notes?" She held up a folder packed with paper, looking baffled. "Keep 'em handy. Catch the interviews and speculation if you can. May be clues there."

Her fur smoothed back down like that ugly cat of her sister's, and Effie went on, "Well, I wouldn't have put it quite like that, but I'm sure your tribute supplies will be taken care of before the Games. A meeting will take place after Anise and Glen depart for the arena. I'll let you know the time."

"Thank you, Effie," said Katniss, reaching for the hot chocolate.

"But as for your mentoring work, well, you're off to remake too, you know! You'll have a role to play as well!"

Oh, shiiiit! thought Haymitch, as Katniss turned dead white. 

Even the clueless Effie Trinket couldn't miss it. "What? What'd I say?! You've been through remake before, Katniss, it's nothing new."

Haymitch found his coffee cup fascinating. There was so much Katniss didn't know. "Effie, use your head," he said quietly, shutting his eyes. He didn't want to see Katniss's face. "What do pretty young victors usually do in the Capitol?"

Effie was silent for a moment, and then, "Oh. Oh!" Her hand fluttered to her chest. "Goodness, Katniss, I'm sorry! Of course you have sponsorship and public events to attend. You must be nervous, and I can see how a provincial district like yours might frown on a young lady going out on the town, but remember, it's for the sake of your tributes. And it's really nothing to be ashamed of!"

So close, yet so far. Haymitch was immensely relieved to hear the clock strike eight. "Go wake the kids, would you? We'll want to chat with them before we hit the Capitol."

At least it gave Katniss a window to ask as soon as Effie’d gone, "Does she know? Is it really that common?"

"Yes and no. She knows the 'facts of life,' no question. Capitol pretty well embraces a promiscuous lifestyle." Katniss cringed and turned red. "But it's a safe bet she assumes your only resistance is just the 'quaint backwater values of District 12' and no one would ever approach you for anything untoward. Or truly against your will."

Katniss closed her eyes and dropped her head. That got his full attention, and he caught her chin with some force. She blinked in surprise. "One thing I do agree with her on: you have nothing to be ashamed of. Not from her, especially not from anyone who knows the full truth.  The shame’s on the bastard who sells you and any bastard who’d buy you. Remember that."

He released her, and her resolve steadied. When the tributes came in, they found their mentors already digging into breakfast. Glen and Annie looked a little ragged, but hopefully they'd gotten at least some sleep. Katniss offered them hot chocolate, but Glen breathed, "Coffee?" as an attendant passed with a fresh pot for Effie.

"Ah, a young man after my own heart!" Effie laughed, and the boy sipped his brew with as much relish as Katniss had the hot chocolate. Anise had never had either, so she tasted both, but liked the hot chocolate better. Katniss mock-toasted with her cup as Haymitch often did, which made Haymitch chuckle. He added a little whiskey to his coffee, enough to perk him up but not leave him flat on his back when the train arrived.

"So, Katniss, Haymitch?" Effie chirped. "Shall we discuss plans?"

They looked at each other. "Th-there's…something I've been wondering," Anise said. Haymitch gestured to go ahead. Despite looking so much like Katniss, she was quiet and shy in a way Katniss had never seemed. "The individual districts' supplies. What's the point of it all just going in one Cornucopia where anyone can take them?"

Katniss frowned, and Haymitch took over. "That's a good question, hon. And we may not know the answer 'till you're in the arena."

Glen let out a huff. "Told you," he muttered at Anise.

"Told her what?" asked Effie.

Haymitch knew what was coming for himself, but braced for the impact on Katniss.

"That he's a useless waste case, and she's too inexperienced to do anything for us. Last year was all Peeta Mellark."

Shit. Bitter tribute ahoy. It was worse than he'd expected. He felt Katniss go rigid, but Mister Personality wasn't done. "So we're probably screwed," he went on, at least indicating some sympathy for his fellow tribute. "Because sorry, Anise, no offense, but I'm not going to pretend to fall in love with you. It wouldn't work twice even if I did."

Haymitch nearly belted the little shit right then. If Peeta had been there, smacking that coffee cup out of his hand was the least he'd do. But Katniss was speechless, as was Effie, so it fell to Haymitch. "Well, that solves one dilemma." Everyone at the table looked at him. "The choice. I told my 'inexperienced' new mentor here when she asked what was the worst part of mentoring. It's having to choose who to mentor, who to try and save. Thanks, whelp, that saves us time."

"Haymitch - "

"Shut up, sweetheart, the boy wonder here wants to handle it all on his own, so we'd be wasting energy we could spend on sponsors for her." He nodded at Anise. "So, hon? Are you willing to work with a waste case and an inexperienced new victor?"

"I... I...you…" Not very nice of him to put her on the spot, but at least they'd all know where they stood when the train arrived. "You don't seem drunk," she finally blurted.

So, the little timid one has a brain in there. Promising. "That's 'cause I'm not. So? Want us to mentor you?" Anise nodded with an anxious sideways glance at Glen.

Glen huffed again. "Okay, fine, I'll work with you."

He’d bought Katniss time to recover that Everdeen spunk of hers, and she murmured with a smirk, "Make him a deal, Haymitch.”

Haymitch chuckled. "Right. Yeah, I'm a drunk old waste case. Yeah, she's never mentored before. But I can sober up, and she's a fast learner. She's already worked damn hard to get ready for these Games. So here's the deal. Same one I made with her and Peeta: as long as you don't interfere with my drinking, I'll stay sober enough to help you. But you do exactly as I say. 'Scuse me, Katniss - what we say. This has been a solo act for a long time."

Anise stared back and forth from Haymitch to Katniss. She nodded. Glen sighed and said, "Okay."

"Stand here." Haymitch repeated his inspection of the previous year. Both Anise and Glen jumped a little at his prodding, but they stayed put. Katniss didn't join him, but watched intently as he concluded, "You're both fairly healthy. The stylists will be able to make you look good enough." He gestured for them to sit back down. They're not Katniss and Peeta. Remember that. "First stop when we arrive is remake. It's not fun, but don't resist. They know what they're doing."

"And don't whine," Katniss added with a quirky grin. "They hate that, and you want the prep team on your side."

The tributes gasped in unison as the Capitol skyline came into view and stared until the train moved into the tunnel. Anise turned to Katniss. "So... what do they do in remake?"

Katniss smiled. "Know what waxing is?" The younger girl shook her head. Haymitch chuckled. "Well, you're about to find out." She turned to Effie. "It is still Cinna and Portia, isn't it?"

"Oh, yes!"

"Good. Cinna is Anise's stylist, Portia is Glen's. You can trust them," she said firmly. Haymitch nodded.

They cruised out of the tunnel into the station and the cheering crowds of bizarre Capitol characters. Haymitch and Katniss watched as Anise and Glen stared at the scene outside, taking it in, then both of them gradually retreated from the windows. Effie reassured Katniss as she ushered the tributes to the front. "I'll look after them, don't worry." Then she leaned towards Haymitch and murmured, " You look after her."

Once the tributes were off the train, Katniss watched a group of attendants loading the supplies into a truck. Haymitch brushed past her. "Grab anything you need from your room, and I'll take you to Control."

Her hands shook as she gathered up her mother's folder with her notes and Cinna's nice suit with her mockingjay pin. Haymitch was waiting for her with a satchel of his own, but with him were Cinna and Portia. Katniss threw her arms around Cinna with more force than strictly necessary. "I've missed you too!" he exclaimed.

Seeing Portia again made her eyes water, but Peeta's stylist moved in for a quick kiss on the cheek. "It's so good to see you, Katniss. Are you all ready?"

"Shouldn't you be at remake with Anise and Glen?" Katniss asked.

"We always have the prep teams take care of all the basics before we start,” said Cinna. “We've got a few hours. Haymitch asked us to join you for your tour of the mentors' facilities." Katniss shot Haymitch a grateful smile as they piled into a car.

Katniss could see trains arriving at other platforms in the big station, and cars and big crowds suggesting these were also tribute trains. A pretty brunette woman heading for a car on the platform nearest them waved at Haymitch, who raised a casual hand in greeting. "District 4," he said, and Katniss spotted the familiar bronze hair and tall frame of the legendary Finnick Odair, hurrying up to the car from somewhere further back. He too waved at Haymitch.

They passed by the Training Center to another massive building on the same block. "The Control Tower," said Haymitch. "Games Headquarters and Mentor Control are here." They hopped out and hurried past the camera crews into the building. "Let's go ahead and get Katniss checked in."

She was made to stand in front of a scanner that flashed lights over her face and the palms of her hands. "Katniss. Everdeen. District. Twelve. Mentor," intoned a female mechanical voice.

"That gets you clearance to Mentor Control, the sponsor lounges, and the stylists' workrooms," Cinna explained. In the elevator, he gestured to the buttons. "Floor Thirteen is Mentor Control. That's where you'll spend most of your time during the Games themselves - "

"Hay - MITCH!" bellowed someone.

Katniss stumbled back in alarm as Haymitch was tackled by a large dark form that caused the already-closing elevator doors to buzz in protest. Haymitch just laughed and slapped the newcomer's back, and Katniss recognized him as Chaff Little. "You act like you didn't see me eight months ago, Little Man! Katniss, you remember Chaff. Riff-raff from District 11."

Her attempt at a handshake was answered by neither bow nor shake, but a smooch right on the lips. Haymitch just guffawed at her appalled expression. "That's right, boys, terrorize the newbie," said an amused, tolerant voice. Chaff and Haymitch made way for the older woman who looked like she could be from the Seam but for her golden brown eyes. "Katniss, hello. I'm Seeder Hines." District 11 did seem to tend towards more close greetings, but Katniss found it easy to accept the woman's light hug.

"Pleased to meet you," she said.

"Don't mind them, they harass every new mentor."

"Technically, you're new again," Haymitch pointed out, tugging her arm to get a hug of his own. "Good to see you. Dalia married yet?"

"This fall, after harvest."

"Ah, is that why you've come out of retirement?" Cinna looked pleased. He said to Katniss, "Dalia Walters was District 11's female mentor for - what was it, eight years?" The others nodded. "We heard she was getting married, so Seeder was nice enough to replace her so she can stay home and enjoy some wedded bliss."

Katniss was touched. The prospect of the years ahead of mentoring was dismal enough; to voluntarily resume it to replace a younger woman and give her a chance at normalcy - marriage, no less! - definitely elevated Seeder Hines in her view.

The Eleven and Twelve teams chattered and laughed as the elevator shot up to the thirteenth floor. Katniss had already felt a deeper connection to District 11 than any of the others thanks to Thresh and Rue, but Haymitch clearly had a particular fondness for those mentors. Cinna and Portia obviously knew Chaff and Seeder as well and joined right in the conversations. They spilled out into a foyer, and had Katniss pause to make sure the scanners registered her properly. A sign above a pair of double-doors read MENTOR CONTROL - AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY.

Inside was a huge semicircle of desks, each with three screens, a keyboard, and all manner of switches and buttons. On the wall was a massive screen that Katniss suspected would show the regular broadcast of the Games. Haymitch led her to a pair of desks at the furthest end of the semicircle, each with "12" on top of the screens. "And these are our stations."

"How long does it take to learn all this?" she muttered.

"You'll get a chance for a tutorial, don't worry."

"Among other things," she sighed. He patted her shoulder.

Chaff opened another pair of double doors onto a side room with a long banquet table and an array of comfortable chairs, sofas, and little dining tables. "Food's served in here for when you're on duty. Bathrooms," he pointed to the opposite side of the room.

Seeder was fiddling with the keyboard at Eleven's desk on the other side of Katniss. "I might join you for that tutorial," she muttered. "It's been awhile."

"The interfaces got upgraded four years ago, so not a bad idea," said Haymitch. He glanced at the clock. "Let's go downstairs."

"The floors above Mentor Control are Games Headquarters and Gamemaker control rooms. Absolutely off-limits," Cinna told her as they went back to the elevator. "Below are the sponsor lounges and residential suites."

"Residential?"

"Everyone gets a room in this building when the Games are on," said Chaff. "Your poor ol' solo mentor didn't use it much, just slept on one of the break room couches."

"Them's the breaks without a partner," Haymitch replied. "I used to trade off with Taurus Seymour from Ten until Edie won a few years back."

"Does everyone have a partner now?" Katniss asked.

"I think so. More or less," said Chaff, sharing a wry look with Haymitch. Katniss wasn't sure what that meant, but figured she would find out.

They went back down to the second floor, and Katniss found herself in a lavish banquet hall. Not as dramatic and mind-blowing as the room in President Snow's mansion, but obviously meant for entertaining large numbers of people. Even with only a few tables set up and many items of furniture still covered in cloth, with workers running around, it was impressive. 

"This is the main reception hall for sponsors. There'll be dinners and drinks here almost every night. You and Haymitch will probably have to take turns to cover them all," said Cinna. "The first one is tonight for people to watch the parade - those who don't have avenue tickets, anyway.

Up a fancy staircase to the third floor was an elegant corridor of rooms. "Once the Games start, you can meet up with sponsors alone in your district's conference room. Entertain, talk about the items you want to get for your tributes, close the deals." Chaff and Seeder peeled off to investigate something in their room, and Katniss followed Cinna, Portia, and Haymitch to Room 12.

Someone was already inside waiting for them: Cashmere Bryant. Katniss would have stopped right in the doorway if Haymitch hadn't tugged her the rest of the way through so they could shut the door. The older woman gazed at her and finally said, "To start with, Katniss, you really need to not look so scared."

That struck her pride, and she scowled. "Excuse me for being a little overwhelmed." Haymitch groaned, which got her glaring at him in turn.

Cashmere kept that half-amused, half-bored expression and gestured to the man who'd been waiting with her. "This is Lapis Rivera, my stylist. I asked Cinna and Portia to join you so we could decide at the outset how your styling will be handled." She smiled at Cinna. "I gather you have some loyalty to your debut victor, but thought we should ask her if she wanted you to stay with her full-time."

"No!" Katniss exclaimed, then realized how that sounded. "I mean, yes, I would love Cinna to keep styling for me, but," she turned urgently to him. "I wanted you to stay with District 12. With our tributes, I mean. You did so much for us."

"It's not an either-or choice, Katniss," Portia pointed out. "District 12 isn't like District 1 - you don't have Career candidates who need to be reviewed and prepped year-round. Cinna and I could style for you and your tributes."

Katniss looked from her to Cinna. "If you're sure... of course, I'd love to stay with you. I just don't want to take away from Anise and Glen."

"I thought that might be the case," said Cashmere. "And if it makes you feel better, Lapis can take up the slack when Cinna and Portia are busy."

The other stylist, who hadn't said a word and just kept that same, rather superior smile, nodded to her. At least he didn't look like some of the other regular tribute stylists. He had no makeup or body alterations either, but his black hair and dark olive skin made Katniss look pale by comparison. He and Cinna seemed to know each other. "I think I could put some faith in Lapis," said Cinna with a smile.

"Thank you," Katniss felt obliged to add.

"Do you have a prep team?" asked Portia.

"Cashmere hardly needs one," said Lapis in a deep baritone that matched his suave looks. "Perhaps you'd lend Cinna's assistants to me from time to time for young Katniss."

That patronizing attitude was going to annoy her, she could tell. But at least he seemed to know what he was doing, and Cashmere certainly was a credit to his skill. Cashmere rose. "That's a deal. We don't have much time before Katniss needs remake, so I'll show her the apartments."

Katniss felt panicky as Haymitch, Cinna and Portia made their farewells. "We'll see you in a couple of hours," Cinna whispered, giving her a quick hug. "You can trust them."

Then she was alone with Cashmere and Lapis, following them to the elevator. " Our prep, victor prep, is on the sixth floor," Cashmere said. "You can go down to tribute remake today just to make it easier on Cinna, but most nights, you'll prepare for events here." They rode up to the seventh floor and came out in a lavish atrium. At the far end, Katniss could see what looked like the exit to another hovercraft landing pad. "Some patrons will enter that way. Others you'll meet at sponsor events."

Katniss, mindful of her advice earlier, managed not to shudder. Cashmere glanced at Lapis, who led them to a door and gestured for Katniss to open it. "This door only responds to you, or if you unlock it from inside."

Inside was a suite more luxurious than anything Katniss had seen yet in the Capitol. It had a sitting room and dining room with beautiful, dark wood furniture, elegant place settings, and velvet couches. Through the next door, a bedroom, centered around a huge bed made up with silk or satin sheets and pillows, in shades of red and gold. There were candles and ornately-carved, dark wood everywhere. A bathroom of creamy marble, a tub big enough for four people. Everything meant not for the usual functions of living, eating, or sleeping, but seduction and display.

So this is what a whorehouse looks like. She swallowed that comment before it got out. Cashmere flicked her hand at Lapis, and he put his hand in his pocket and nodded.

Katniss blinked, startled, as the older woman leaned toward her. "We've only got a few moments off the bugs. Even in this room, assume you're being watched and recorded. I know you're scared, Katniss. You have every right to be. But we have to play their game before we can beat them at it. Remember, you've already beaten them once."

"What are you talking about? I'm only a victor because Peeta killed himself first!" Katniss hissed, startled into honesty.

Cashmere's dark blue eyes, always so aloof, met hers with an intense stare. "I don't think so."

"Ten seconds," whispered Lapis.

"We have ringers among the patrons. They'll try to make this year easy on you." With that, Cashmere straightened, her disinterested mask back in place, and strolled to the bathroom door to examine the fixtures more closely. "Mm, very nice. I thought warm colors would suit you, but you can decorate to your tastes as the time allows. We are expected to present ourselves well as hostesses. Now, let's sit down for a few minutes."

They settled on the burgundy velvet sofa in the sitting room. "Excuse us, Lapis." He vanished. "Now, Katniss, we do need to talk about some particulars before you go to remake. Since you're from District 12, you're not going to be familiar with some of the customs victors participate in. Do you understand what entertaining in the Capitol entails?"

Katniss swallowed hard and forced herself to answer in a neutral voice. "Sleeping with people."

"Well, yes, among other things. Have you been with a man before? No, I didn't think so. A woman?" Katniss shook her head. "All right. There are some people who will find that especially attractive. Your first appointment will be very sought-after. Once that particular commodity has been sold, we can concentrate a little more on training. It's not merely sex. We're expected to entertain. We're victors. We are interesting people, and our company should be pleasant. Do you read much? Can you read?"

Katniss answered indignantly, "Of course I can read!"

"Well, good. Do you enjoy it?" Katniss shrugged. Cashmere pursed her lips. "Hm. I'll give you some books. It helps to be well-read."

"What sort of books?" 

"Literature. The great plays. Poetry is quite popular."

It sounded dull as ditchwater, but Katniss didn't complain. It would be something to do and maybe distract people from wanting to get her clothes off. "I don't think I've read anything like that before, but I can do it."

"You're an intelligent girl. I don't think it's beyond you. For example, do you know where the term 'star-crossed lovers' comes from?" Katniss frowned, and shook her head. "Shakespeare's Romeo & Juliet, the greatest love story in human history. A tragedy," Cashmere added, with a wry twist of her mouth.

Katniss found herself stroking the couch fabric. "I think I've heard of it. I've heard of Shakespeare."

"I'll definitely give you that one. Something tells me people will be quoting it at you if they’re not already."

"They're still interested in Peeta and me?"

"Of course,” Cashmere said.  “You showed them something they hadn't seen in the Hunger Games before. It's all the rage. Until the next ones." And in her voice, Katniss heard bitterness.

In remake, Katniss pondered her enigmatic new mentor. 

Back in District 12, she had already been through so many recap tapes that by the time she came to the 63rd Games that it had been several minutes before she recognized Cashmere Bryant as a female tribute. Eighteen, all District 1 beauty and confidence, Cashmere had looked more like Glimmer than ever. She had volunteered without hesitation, and to no surprise by the onlookers at their reaping. It must have been planned in advance. 

She'd been dazzling in the Tribute Parade, her entire costume a simple robe of tiny sapphires, and an arrangement of them in her blonde curls. Her interview dress had been white silk and an intricately-patterned shawl that Katniss suspected was the luxury wool for which she was named. She'd been focused, seductive, and so eager. Not unlike so many of the other Careers Katniss had watched.

Cashmere had joined the Career pack, of course. She'd scored a nine in the ratings and racked up a hefty body count at the bloodbath. The spear and the hook blade were her weapons. 

The arena had been horrific that year:  a desert setting with only a small collection of survival supplies in the Cornucopia, which quickly ran out. But along with her Career training, Cashmere possessed plenty of intelligence. She had anticipated the rapid collapse of the Career alliance as their food and water dwindled, and escaped as the rest turned on each other. Using her weapons to fight off poisonous snakes and strip the thorns from cactus for the water in their flesh, she had survived as so many died of thirst and heat stroke. 

In the end, her hair bleached white and her skin scorched red by the sun, she'd squared off against a boy from District 4. It had been long and brutal and gruesome, two emaciated, dehydrated wrecks tearing at each other with their last ounces of strength, but in the end, it seemed what Cashmere won was the battle of wills. Even disarmed, one hand shattered by her rival's foot, she had refused to yield, and as he had tried to cut her throat, she had managed to claw free and finally bludgeoned him to death with a rock.

The remake center had worked wonders even after the ravages of ten days in a desert: she'd been a beauty again at her crowning. But already Katniss could see that detachment, that mask of the victor falling into place. 

What had happened to Cashmere Bryant afterward in the interim and on her Victory Tour, Katniss didn't know, but the next tape had shown the outcome. 

The new victor and mentor, she'd sat at the side of District 1's mayor at the next reaping, coolly smiling for the cameras. She'd nodded at the girl whose turn it was to volunteer, but then the escort had read out the name of that year's boy from the reaping ball:

Gloss Bryant.

Cashmere had made only the smallest movement as the crowd murmured in surprise. The drawings seemed to be random, but it didn't matter because the appointed Career would always volunteer. Gloss had been only fifteen - healthier and stronger than most boys his age would be from other districts - but not yet advanced enough in his training to be the chosen tribute. The commentators had chattered as Cashmere's brother took his place on the stage, expressing disappointment that, of course, he would not actually be the one to go.

But on the stage, Cashmere herself had been utterly still. She hadn't even looked at Gloss. She might as well have been a marble statue. 

The escort had called for volunteers. Everyone had looked around, expectant.

Silence.

Cashmere had stared straight ahead, her face blank, her body rigid. Her brother was tribute.

She couldn't volunteer.

And in the quiet room of the Justice Building's archive in District 12, Katniss had found her own throat painfully tight, as if the tears Cashmere refused to shed were trying to force their way out of her.

Cashmere had refused all interviews during Gloss's Games, and her fellow District 1 mentor had looked frazzled. " You must understand, she's quite busy! "

When she had been in sight of the cameras, she was always well-dressed and well-groomed. But even Katniss could see the tension, the dropping weight, the heavy makeup under the eyes. 

Gloss had handled himself well in his arena, which was as lush as Cashmere's had been barren. Still strong and skilled enough to be accepted among the Careers, he had fought and killed without hesitation. However, he hadn't received many sponsor gifts. 

Caesar Flickerman and Claudius Templesmith had speculated that it was because people assumed there was no way the sibling of last year's victor could possibly take the crown. The comparisons to his sister had been constant, but even his fellow Careers seemed to overlook him as a threat for that reason. Of course, he couldn't win. It simply wouldn't happen.

Until Gloss decided it would. The first sponsor gift he himself had received was a cheese cutting wire, which had baffled Katniss until he garroted three of his fellow Careers with it, including his district partner. The remaining pair had awakened, and the bloody breakdown of their pack ensued with Gloss defeating them both. 

His final battle hadn't been with a fellow tribute, but himself and a boy from District 10 in a desperate struggle to survive a pack of dog mutts. Separated from his rival, Gloss had made his stand on a clump of boulders, and dispatched over a dozen of the things until he hurled his knife at the tree where the other boy was, hitting him in the leg and overbalancing him enough to fall.

Cashmere's response to the camera crews at Gloss's crowning had been canned, and her smile strangely vacant. Katniss couldn't help suspecting that she'd been on some kind of drug. Whether she'd taken it by choice was anyone's guess.

To Be Continued...

Chapter Text

Haymitch went to say hi to the District 4 crowd after Cinna and Portia headed off to tribute remake. "Hey, hey, it's Mitch!" Finnick Odair bounced to the door to slap his back.

A loud groan from Finnick's partner told her opinion of that oft-used pun. Finn was a total ham when he wasn't in public. "Now I remember why I drink at these things," he remarked and shoved Finnick out of the way to kiss Marina Gonzalez on the cheek. "And I'll bring one for you too, mermaid. How's it going?"

"The usual. Did you see Beetee Latier is back?" 

Haymitch looked up in surprise. "Really? What happened to Lenny?"

"He's pretty morphlinged out, and I get the feeling Three's volunteer kid is a protégé of Beetee's. Gonna tell our kids to stay out of the water this year. Bzzt!" Finnick ruffled up his hair as if shocked. Marina rolled her eyes. "Speaking of protégés, when am I going to meet yours?"

"She's off with Cash, then to remake. I'll introduce you at the reception tonight." Finnick's smile was as cheerful as ever, but his sea green eyes were sympathetic. He knew what it meant. "How's the family?"

"Good. Getting our shit together for this Quell was a bit stressful, but we managed. The usual pre-Games jitters." Translation: Annie'd had a few episodes amid the Quell frenzy and was probably still in treatment. She tended to fall apart when Finnick left for the Games. "That boy of yours looks to have some potential."

"Bit of a brat, but yeah, he's generating some interest. Blacksmith's son. But the girl's one of Katniss's ilk, so I wouldn't dismiss her." 

"I wouldn't dare. I'll talk to mine if you'll talk to yours. We've been saying for years you needed to get your kids in the pack."

Haymitch waved him off. "I'll talk, but do us all a favor and don't broach that to Katniss. The girl makes me look mellow."

Finnick clutched his throat in horror.

Katniss was still the girl on fire when she met Haymitch after her remake. Smoky black gossamer draped off one shoulder in soft pleats at the skirt, but in the fold of each pleat was a streak of bright metallic thread or gemstones, so that flames licked around her body in each smoky step. Cinna had given her a book of sketches to show off which she tucked nervously under her arm. Haymitch, dressed in a smoky black jacket at Portia's direction, offered his arm. "Nice dress. One of 'yours?'"

"I think so," she muttered. 

He led her to the victors' stands where the mentors and other visiting victors had gathered for the parade. "What's Cinna's theme this year?"

"Coal," she said, with a sly smile. Obviously she'd seen the tributes' costumes. "Doing what coal does."

Haymitch couldn't help grinning. This was going to be interesting. 

"Evening, Haymitch!" It was Gloss, with Cashmere on one arm and her bag on the other. 

"Gloss, good to see you. Cash, did you give our new girl the grand tour?"

"I did, but I forgot to give you this, Katniss." Cashmere held out a small velvet box. "A little welcome gift."

Katniss hesitantly took it. "I... thank you!"

"Ooh, Cashmere's giving out pretties!”  said Johanna Mason, leaning past Haymitch from the row behind them. “Come on, newbie, let's see!" 

At Cashmere's gesture to go ahead, Katniss opened the box to find a narrow bracelet of fine, intricate gold wire, studded with small, smooth stones that caught the light and flickered as if with flames. On the other side of Haymitch, Chaff whistled. "Damn, woman. That's a gorgeous one."

Cashmere looked smug. "I thought only one gemstone could match anything Katniss would wear: fire opal."

"It's beautiful," Katniss breathed. 

"Put it on," Haymitch muttered in her ear, seeing some of the camera crews watching the exchange with interest. The more signs to bind Katniss to Cashmere, the better. She did and turned her wrist to catch the light.

At least the bracelet provided a good talking point to continue introductions a little less awkwardly. Granted, Haymitch had been no better at it than Katniss twenty-four years ago. Seeder even whispered, "That one is just like you."

"No need to insult the kid when you've just met her!" he said.  Seeder thumped him for that.

They took their seats as the trumpets sounded to announce the start of the parade. He could feel Katniss trembling at his side. She hadn't let go of his arm much, and he didn't mind. 

There were some nice costumes for the Quell. District 1 was pretty typical: gem-studded tunics and glittering gold and silver headdresses, but attractive as ever. Two was still doing their ancient warrior thing, but with flaming swords held over their heads. The crowd seemed to appreciate it.

"Everyone's trying to steal Cinna and Portia's idea," Katniss shouted in his ear over the music and cheers.

"Works for some," he replied, seeing District 3's costumes covered in an array of electric lights.

Four wasn't lit, but the reflective, colorful metal scales of the girl's fishtail skirt and the boy's trousers, as well as their capes, made up for it. At least someone had the decency to give the girl a pearl-encrusted bustier. Five's big lightbulb-studded... things were... unfortunate. Six wore hoverpad conductor's uniforms, but they had light rods and got some cheers and laughter as they "conducted" the crowd.

Seven... "Ugh, again !" Johanna spat. Trees.

Eight, Nine, Ten, and Eleven were traditionally weak, and Katniss made a noise of dismay at the cows with flaming belts. Then... the roar of the crowd at last year's winning district shifted into an "Oooh!" of awe.

Anise and Glen were creatures of glowing coal, their faces aged up by dark makeup, their eyes focused forward. Not holding hands, but not concerned with the crowd. Obviously that was Cinna's and Portia's instruction, and it was right; the pair looked deadly and otherworldly. Haymitch just managed to keep a straight face. Katniss was so busy watching Anise and Glen that she never saw herself up on the screen, and nobody had thought to warn her.

The victor of the previous Games, Katniss Everdeen, the girl on fire, at the side of Haymitch Abernathy, victor of the last Quarter Quell. In her gown of flames and smoke, and bangle of fiery gems at her wrist, her eyes intense and passionate as she applauded her burning tributes.

Chaff clapped him on the back and murmured, "Lotta fire in your district. Lotta power." Haymitch let himself smile, but saw Snow moving up to the podium.

And he'll relish putting it out. Thoughts like that tended to take shape when he was sober. He clutched Katniss's arm so hard that she looked at him with concern. He hid it by muttering her ear as the noise died down. "After we get the kids to bed, reception with the sponsors." Anticipating her anxiety, he promised, "I'll give you a crash course on the way. Tonight's mostly small talk, but there'll be questions about what we've brought."

"We shouldn't say!" she exclaimed, and he chuckled.

"We're on the same page, then, sweetheart, but don't be afraid to drop hints. Tease 'em."

But instead of smirking back, she blanched, and his mind caught up. Shit! Dumbass! "Will I... tonight?"

"No," he assured her, squeezing her hand. "Not tonight."  They’d already know if Snow had ordered her into an auction.

Under his, her hand had gone ice cold.

They met the chariots back at the bottom of the Training Center. Effie was beside herself at how "awe-inspiring" Anise and Glen had been, and Haymitch had to admit the term was apt. Lots of eyes had flicked from the powerful, deadly-looking pair in the chariot to the smoldering, triumphant victor of last year. As long as the kids could accomplish something in training and not screw up the interview, there would be sponsors.

Hell, with Katniss on the books, they'd always have sponsors now.

Holy fucking shit, you callous son of a bitch, where the fuck did that come from?!

He was in a foul mood at dinner, too busy cursing himself for that careless, disgusting thought. Luckily, Katniss, the kids, and the stylists were all riding high from the reception they'd received, so they didn't seem to notice. On the way up the elevator, Katniss quietly and sadly explained to the kids what an Avox was, which darkened the mood a little, but at least none of them slipped up as she had the previous year.

Katniss and Effie explained most of the training process and asked the tributes if they wanted to be coached together or separately. "I don't mind if we're together," said Anise.

But Glen hesitated. "I... I don't really care, but... well, I don't want to be allies." Anise looked unsure of whether she should be offended, and he explained awkwardly, "I just... don't want it to be like last year. With us as the last ones."

Katniss had narrowed her eyes, but now she softened. "Yeah, I understand that." All too well, was the unspoken remark. "It might help to make a plan ahead of time, then."

The boy took a deep breath. "We can train together, though." He spared a quick smile for Anise. "If I don't win, I really hope you do."

She relaxed too. "It's okay." To Katniss, she said with some pride, "I know the woods. I can tie a good snare. I never used a bow before you started teaching it, but I can throw a knife pretty good."

"My dad said they gave you some of my hammers?" asked Glen. Katniss nodded. "Yeah, those could be weapons." He wrinkled his nose at the thought.

Haymitch made himself look up from his food. "How's your arms? Can you lift? Swing, I'm guessing?" Glen nodded. "Right. Don't do that in front of the other tributes at the gym. Save it for your private sessions. Same for you," he told Anise. "Learn something new, practice things that are rusty, but save your best skills for the solo sessions with the Gamemakers." He glanced at the clock. He and Katniss would need to be going soon. "Go get some sleep while the grown-ups talk."

Katniss smiled at him as the tributes headed off to their rooms. "You said that to us."

"Habit, sweetheart. Now, next for us is the Opening Reception. Like I told you earlier, it's mostly small talk, but sponsors are gonna be sounding us out on what special skills our tributes have, and definitely wanting to know what we've brought in the way of supplies. No dead giveaways. Hints are good. You and Peeta were the final two last year, and you both showed some good skills. Dropping hints of comparison are good - she'll remind them of you and he'll remind them of Peeta."

"Should I..." Her face turned deep red, "...flirt?"

"Well, it usually doesn't hurt," Effie laughed.

Cinna broke in, "I don't think it'll hurt for you to be a little aloof. Make them seek you. Notice how Cashmere acts. The more they think that you and your tributes are the prize that they're seeking - rather than you trying to get something from them - the better."

A year ago, who could predict I'd be so nervous about being out of arm's reach of Haymitch?

At least he was sober. They arrived at the reception arm-in-arm, but Katniss cringed as she realized they would be expected to separate and mingle with the overdressed Capitol sponsors. "Here, demo," he murmured to her and waved a greeting to a man in a bright purple suit with metallic gold hair. "Virgil, how are ya?"

"Haymitch! And the lovely Katniss, welcome!" said the man. Katniss managed not to flinch as he smackingly kissed her cheek, and even kissed the air next to his cheek. "How are you enjoying your first year as a mentor?"

"Very much!" Katniss chirped, channeling Effie.

"You remember Virgil Dansforth, he was one of your top sponsors last year," said Haymitch. He gave the man a sly smile. "And I'm hoping he'll repeat it with your first tributes."

"Oh, I'm on board for something, be sure," agreed Virgil. "Who could resist after that display? And how are you holding up, lovely lady? It would have broken all of our hearts to see you mourn forever."

"Keeping busy certainly helps," Katniss said. Although it didn't break your hearts enough to let him live. Recalling Haymitch's earlier suggestion, she added, "I think this year's tributes will be a credit to Peeta - and to me, of course. Glen is a merchant like he was, and Anise is from my part of District 12."

Haymitch saw something that bothered him, and said to her, "I'll let you and Virgil get to know each other. He's harmless," he added under his breath in her ear, then went quickly to intercept a heavyset man who'd been heading their way.

Katniss managed to continue the conversation with Virgil and found she quickly drew other interested sponsors. That was at least encouraging, except for the fact that most of them were men whose interest in her definitely wasn't confined to her status as a victor and the quality of her tributes. She caught a glimpse of Cashmere on the arm of a man who looked about three times her age, and tried to imitate her elegant bearing. Finnick Odair also had a date of his own, a rather plain woman who at least didn't appear too much older than he, but wearing enough jewels and furs to buy another trident for his tributes.

She managed not to stare at the floor or stammer too often, and could at least come up with a few talking points about Cinna's dramatic costumes and what some of the other tributes had worn in the parade. Haymitch attracted a fair number of female sponsors and circled at a slight distance, occasionally catching one of the men who were eyeing Katniss with a little too much obvious lust or who had already had too much to drink.

He scored quite a coup at one point, slipping back to point out to Katniss's dozen or so male admirers, "It'll be quite the bragging right for whoever makes the first sponsor commitment to last year's victor, you know." Katniss was appalled, thinking he had a hidden meaning, but suddenly found herself besieged by ornate seals and excited voices all demanding "the honor" to be the first sponsor.

"No fair!" protested Finnick Odair from nearby.

"Like you didn't get sealed commitments at your first reception," retorted Gloss. "We all know who we want for an alliance this year!"

Haymitch slipped a data pad into her hand. "Thumbprint," he murmured, and she pressed her thumb to the screen. The prospective sponsors began making bids of sums that made Katniss's victor's income sound like a pittance in comparison, and she barely managed to keep the shock off her face.

Virgil Dansforth ended up with the high bid and preened like crazy as he held his gold seal to the screen to be scanned and authorized the commitment of the funds. Katniss assumed the system had to involve vaults and accounts like the one in District 12 - probably much more complex - but didn't dare ask here. As despicable as the whole situation felt, she sternly reminded herself that this massive sum could make the difference between life and death for Anise or Glen. So she accepted Virgil's slimy smooch on the knuckles and gave him a kiss on each cheek in return. Many of the men drifted away after that, miffed at having been beaten, but a few made smaller commitments (which still involved more money than Katniss would imagine one person having, let alone being able to dispose of for entertainment.)

The alcohol flowed fast and free, and Haymitch retired to a corner to pass a bottle back and forth with Chaff. Katniss tried not to appear panicky as more of the freakish Capitol men began to lose their scruples and suddenly found herself next to Cashmere. "Marcus, have you met our newest victor? Katniss Everdeen, let me present Marcus Kendy, once Panem's Treasury Minister."

As old as the man was, at least his kiss on her hand wasn't slimy and he wasn't obviously undressing her with his eyes. "A pleasure, Miss Everdeen. You're quite the jewel in our crown of victors."

"I'm honored, Mister Kendy," she said with her Effie-trained smile. "Or is it Minister Kendy?"

"Oh no, no, goodness, I'm happily retired. Glad enough to let someone else take on both the title and the responsibility." Katniss joined their laughter automatically, and Kendy nodded towards Haymitch and his growing group of older victors with their glasses and bottles. "I'm sure your Haymitch is delighted to have someone to help carry the burden."

"I'm doing my best."

Many of the younger victors and their "dates" were starting to drift out of the room, and Katniss searched for someone to hide behind since she knew Cashmere too would be leaving. She didn't especially want to deal with Haymitch, Chaff, and the other heavy drinkers, but decided that would be preferable to taking her chances with the Capitol men.  So she stiffened her spine and headed for them after Cashmere and Kendy made their farewells.

She was intercepted by Seeder Hines and an elderly man with glasses who didn't appear to be from the Capitol. "Katniss, have you met Beetee Latier from District 3?" asked Seeder.

"I don't think so," she said. Beetee's handshake and smile were friendly rather than sleazy, to her intense relief. 

"Welcome, Katniss. Seeder and I are both newly returned from retirement, so we're also making some new acquaintances." He gestured to the datapad she'd been clutching all night. "So you already landed some sponsor commitments, and from some of the notoriously stingy characters as well! Congratulations!"

"Thank you. What brought you out of retirement?"

Seeder made a face, which told Katniss she'd put her foot in her mouth, but Beetee just chuckled. "I'm afraid my one-time successor was indisposed this year. All the same, our Linea Norton is still a force. I think she's already left, or I'd introduce you." Katniss had seen a few mentors who looked so addled by alcohol or drugs or who-knew-what that she wondered exactly what qualified as "indisposed" to do the job. Then again, if a district had other victors in reserve, no reason they couldn't pull someone out of retirement. It wasn't as if the replacement could refuse.

A roar of laughter made them glance at the drinking crowd, and Seeder and Beetee just chuckled. "Let's grab some seats and let the boys unwind for another hour before we drag them home," suggested Seeder.

"Good idea. Can I get you ladies a drink?" asked Beetee.

"A glass of wine would be lovely," said Seeder.

"Er, water."

Seeder smiled as they slipped over to a small table. "As a rule, snatch what fun you can out of this." Katniss must have looked dubious. "It does get easier. Did Cash mention the ringers?" she asked in a lower voice. Katniss nodded. "Most of us have been there. If there's someone you actually have your eye on, let us know. We'll do our best."

So I might actually have choices about who I have to sleep with? Katniss accepted the elegant glass of water from Beetee, who seemed more content to relax and people-watch than participate in the conversation, so she dared to ask Seeder, "Did you?

"In my day, yes. Shocking, but I wasn't born old." That made it a little easier to smile. Katniss felt her exhausted facial muscles and stiff neck finally starting to relax. It didn't hurt that Seeder looked almost like someone from the Seam. Seeder nodded towards the drinking party. "You've done quite a bit of good for your mentor, you know."

Katniss watched Haymitch leaning on Chaff as one of the others animatedly told some story or joke and shook her head. "You wouldn't know it tonight, would you?"

"Having seen him since his own first year mentoring, I beg to differ. And I mentored alone once, a long time ago. Until Chaff finally won. This is enough of a hell without someone who's been through it."

Katniss had to admit it was true. She'd seen enough images of Haymitch at previous Games, sloppy drunk but still looking miserable, that she figured even her company was better than none. "Before Chaff... how long were you by yourself?"

Seeder sipped her wine thoughtfully. Beetee was drinking some clear liquor, but his glass was only half empty. "Must've been close to a dozen years. Fifteen," she corrected herself. "Eleven isn't a Career district, as you know. I'm afraid we all have to deal with long dry spells."

And for each year of "dry spell," two more wooden boxes to take home. Katniss gulped her water. "Did you know them?" she whispered. "Thresh or Rue?"

"I know the Wilsons, Thresh's family, quite well. They're from my zone. I met the Crawfords after." Seeder leaned toward her, looking as if she were going to share some sweet morsel of gossip, but instead whispered, "They're out of the district and safe."

It was all Katniss could do not to gasp aloud in relief, remembering the brutality of the Peacekeepers there and her fear at seeing the demonstration during the Victory Tour. She desperately wanted to know more, how such an escape could be accomplished under those metal plates and huge fences and watchtowers, but she forced it down. This wasn't the time or place. 

"How are your tributes this year?" she asked to force her mind to another subject. Not that it was a terribly safe one.

"As with every year, I have my hopes," said Seeder. "Grove Perkins is a little young, but he's wily. Cherry Shaw's been on the plow teams for a year, so she's got some good muscle. Neither of them are from my zone this year - now District 12 is a good deal smaller, if I remember?"

Katniss nodded. "We don't really have ‘zones’. Just the town and the Seam, and they're all within a few miles. I'm from the Seam - that's the miners. Peeta and Glen, this year's boy, were both from the town where the merchants live."

"Is blond hair the norm there?"

"Mostly. Anise and I are Seam, though my mother is from the town. My sister looks like her."

"That's right, I remember thinking you two were as unalike as I've ever seen siblings," Beetee put in on the other side of Katniss. "Not like our Cashmere and Gloss; they could be twins. Your sister is a pretty thing; not that you aren't a striking one as well," he added. Coming from him, just a genuine compliment with no lecherous intent, Katniss felt honestly flattered.

"Do you have family back home?" she asked Beetee.

"No blood family," he said. "But Wiress Pierce in every way but blood."

"Wiress Pierce… she’s a victor too, isn't she? I remember that name."

"Twenty Games after me. We've had some good years. Diode Sullivan in the Twenty-Third, Lenny Cho in the Forty-First, Wiress Pierce in the Forty-Ninth, Linea Norton in the Fifty-Ninth."

And none since? Katniss almost blurted.   Instead, she managed to say, "I'm sure it would've been nice for Haymitch and me to have more fellow mentors in Twelve teaching us the rope.  Not that I'd wish - "

She caught herself again, but Beetee and Seeder gave her little nods that were all too knowing of what she'd been about to say.  Not that we'd wish the hell of getting this job on anyone from our own district...or any other, really.  

Beetee kindly covered for her.  "It is a relief, I can't deny, having had Diode to help me along.  And as...well, you know, as tough as the Games can be, it is an important job to train our successors.  We're all family in a special way, I suppose, but none more so than the ones from home."

"I think I've already learned that part.  It is a bright spot," Katniss agreed.

They sat and chatted about more superficial things. Seeder admired the bracelet from Cashmere and Beetee showed off a fob watch that had also been a gift from her. Unlike Plutarch Heavensbee's plain crystal-faced one, Beetee's had a crazy amount of clockwork in it and according to him, also played music using a tiny chip he'd invented himself. 

Seeder's talent was gardening. "You'll find me up on the roof of the Training Center fairly often. I've planted my yard and Chaff and Dalia's back home at the Victors’ Village."

Katniss grinned. "We started a garden in ours too, but nothing quite that big." She lowered her voice. "It's nice, but I prefer hunting, which I can't do here."

"Thought as much," Seeder chuckled. "I can see why that would help you unwind!"

Beetee checked his watch and said, "Well, ladies, it's been a lovely evening, but it's time this old man was getting to bed."

"And the rest of us as well. Come on, Katniss, let's round up our partners and pour them back into the Training Center."

With Seeder around, it was easy to regard wrestling Haymitch and Chaff out the door and back to the Training Center as amusing. Haymitch wasn't sloppy drunk but quite unsteady on his feet and disturbingly happy. "You SEE what my little victor pulled off, Chaff?! Five commimments, FIVE! That better than Finn?"

"Nuh, nuh, Finn's still got the record. Seven the first night, the little twerp."

Haymitch made an alarming sound of illness, and Katniss snarled, "If you vomit on me, I'm leaving you outside in the gutter!" 

Luckily, he didn't, just howled with laughter along with Chaff, and they managed to navigate their way to the elevators, which shot upward to their duet of "Wheeee!" 

"'Night, Katniss," sang Seeder as they reached the eleventh floor, and she hauled Chaff out.

"You done good, Kaniss," Haymitch informed her as they rode the rest of the way up to the twelfth floor and staggered into the sitting room. "You done so much better than me, so much better ‘n I thought. 'm glad you're here. 's such shit doin’ it alone. 'm really glad you're here."

Katniss let out a whooping sigh as the Avoxes came rushing to help her, and Lavinia shot her a quick grin. "Thanks. Put his carcass to bed already."

She opened Haymitch's bedroom door for them in relief and staggered to her own room. A moment later, Lavinia rapped lightly on the doorframe. "Is he asleep? Okay, goodnight. I don't need anything." Lavinia gave a small wave goodnight and closed the door. Katniss removed her gown and put the jewelry on her dressing table, and took a bath to wash off the makeup and soak out the tension.

Even though she was exhausted, she couldn't sleep, so she went back into the mentors' sitting room and sat down at her desk. The data pad with the commitment interface she deposited carefully in the drawer, then turned on the power switches for the computer. At least the options and the keys were self-explanatory, and she found herself staring at her tributes' faces.

District 12 Mentor Interface. 

Anise McRae, age 14, weight 101 lbs, height 5'3", odds 28-1. 

Glen Sheridan, age 15, weight 165 lbs, height 5'8", odds 21-1.

Enter Notes?

She slapped her hand on the power switch and stared at the black screen for a long time before going to bed.

Her room was cold.  She shivered under two layers of blankets.  After minutes or hours of trying to sleep, she was in that hazy halfway state, still cold and all too aware of those interfaces and what they represented.

But somewhere between dream and memory, there was someone against her side, stroking her hair, tugging blankets around her.  Rain spattered to the cave floor.  He kept her warm.

“You won’t be alone. ”  She’d whispered it to herself once, in the arena, with him wrapped protectively (and warmly) around her.  She’d been thinking of her mother and Prim and Gale, of course, but…the promise of something more.  Him.  Living through these nightmares with her, going home to help her fight them off.

Until they changed their minds, and he got away from her.

“You’re not alone, ” he murmured, sounding half-asleep.  “You’ll never be alone. ”

To Be Continued...

Chapter Text

At breakfast, Haymitch ate and seemed alert, so as obnoxious as he'd been with Chaff, apparently he hadn't been that drunk. At least not enough to cause a major hangover. They mulled over strategy for training, and Haymitch urged Anise and Glen to stick together.

"No, I'm not saying flirt or hold hands, but in District 12, our partners can be an asset, even if not an ally. That is something we've proven, something that works." Katniss might as well have been a tribute again herself, she was staring at Haymitch with such confusion. He looked at each of them and sighed. "This Quell is all about the districts. What they can do for themselves. And we've distinguished ourselves even beyond the Careers in that way. Your relationship with Peeta made the Games a tragedy."

"They're all tragedies!" blurted Anise, then she clapped a hand over her mouth.

Haymitch met her young, Seam gray eyes with his older, deeper ones. "Anyway," he went on. "We're presenting something that goes beyond a Games alliance. Even if you don't want to ally in the arena, help each other when you can in training. Compare notes."

Their resistance lessened. Katniss described the previous year's stations and urged them to spend time on knots, fires, and edible plants. "But pay close attention to anything that seems... out of the ordinary," added Haymitch. "Quarter Quell arenas tend to have twists of their own, and a lot more traps."

Once Effie took the tributes downstairs, Haymitch looked at Katniss. "Cashmere wants to see you in Victor Prep."

It's tonight.

She sat there, willing her breakfast not to make a reappearance, and Haymitch went on, "She thought I should come with you. If you'd rather I not, that's okay."

Considering how often he insulted, irritated, or even disgusted her, it was strange how intensely she felt her answer. "Yes. I'd like you to go with me."

So they went off to Victor Prep, which was on the same floor as the stylists' workshops. That was a comforting thought, especially when Cinna and Portia left their workroom to accompany Katniss and Haymitch into another room with restricted access.

Inside were multiple screens of date calendars covered in symbols. A handsome woman around Seeder’s age with brown hair starting to go gray smiled at Katniss. "Incomprehensible, isn't it? Good. That means no one else who isn't one of us can understand it either."

"Who're you?" Katniss asked, feeling defensive. Along with Cashmere and Gloss were also Finnick Odair, Johanna Mason, Finnick's co-mentor Marina Gonzalez, and Enobaria Landas from District 2.

"Venus Fabre," said Johanna, sitting on top of one of the desks. "Goddess of love, scheduler of events, and pimp of victors."

Katniss almost recoiled. Finnick exclaimed, "Cut it out, Jo!" and the others glared.

"What? It's true, and she's gotta get used to the facts sometime."

"While that is strictly-speaking one of my job functions, it's not all," said Venus, ignoring Johanna. "I'm a victor too, and I know the position you're in. My primary unofficial job is to protect you as much as I can."

At Katniss's elbow, Haymitch let out his breath. "Bugs are off?"

"Of course. So as you can see, Katniss, here are some of your fellow victors who are also sold on a regular basis. As much as we have our differences," she shot Johanna a faint sneer. "We can help each other."

What help that entailed, Katniss couldn't guess. "Our efforts have already paid off somewhat," said Cashmere. "Your first night won't take place until District 12 wins or is out of the Games."

It took Katniss a minute to figure that out. So she wouldn't have to sleep with someone until Anise and Glen either won or died. "Why is that good?"

"It lets you focus on mentoring," said Gloss. "It'll also give more time to have money change hands and bring in our ringers."

"Who are the ringers?" Who will I actually have to do it with?

"Sympathetic patrons. People who know we're people, who know we’re forced into this, and who don't get their kicks from pain or humiliation," said Finnick. "Sex is usually still involved, especially in the opening appointment, but it's better that we know you don't end up with one of the creeps. The format of the auction dictates what we can do."

"Auction?" Katniss breathed.

"It's all electronic," Venus explained. "You're not on a block except figuratively. If it's blind, meaning no ID required to bid, that's a good thing. Nobody notices if it's a victor bidding, or if someone else's account foots the bill."

"But... who?"

"That's partly up to you," said Cashmere. "You'll meet people over the next few days. We'll let you know who's offering. If you wanted, you could probably have anyone in this room." Katniss turned beet red, which made Johanna laugh, and Cashmere glared. "Or if you'd prefer a stranger you won't have to see again, we can probably arrange that too."

"But I'd... definitely have to sleep with them." Oh god ohgod ohgod I don't want to do this! She stared at the floor, feeling utterly filthy.

Johanna had lost some of her amusement at Katniss's expense. When Katniss glanced up in response to her lowered voice, she saw the older girl's wide-set brown eyes were distant, as if she was lost in her own memories. "A ringer won't force you. But then your first time would just be the second appointment when you'd actually have to take the guy out and be seen with him. First night's mostly just that: night. The novelty of a night with a virgin."

That was a good point, now that it was presented so starkly and without mockery. And Katniss wanted as little to do with this sleazy process as possible. How long would it take her to be so dispassionate about it as these others? Would that be a good thing? 

I've got no right to judge them. They probably had no more choice than me.  

She tried to calm her racing mind and examine the situation, to figure out what she wanted out of the horrible set of choices she had. Finnick got up and steered her to a chair, but they all sat a little away from her, letting her have her space.

At length, she said, "I think I'd rather... not know him again after. And if you think you can choose someone who... won't hurt me, that's enough for me."

Venus nodded, genuinely sympathetic. "We'll do what we can."

Katniss turned to Haymitch, who looked very uncomfortable but determined to have her back. "That sponsor. Virgil. Will he want... payment?"

"Not now, maybe not even this year, but eventually," Haymitch admitted. 

"I know Virgil," said Marina. "He prefers a skilled courtesan to a blushing virgin."

"He's a ringer?"

"Not him, but he is what we'd call a respite," said Johanna. "Not attractive, vanilla in the bedroom, but he's nice. Treats you like a person. And generous. He'll pay you in personal coin or gifts or by sponsoring a hopeless tribute. And very discreet."

Still, the memory of slimy lips on her knuckles was gross. If that was what counted as a respite... it didn't bode at all well for the rest. "What about the others? The ones who aren't nice?" she heard herself mutter.

Silence answered her. "We'll do our best to keep them away this year," said Finnick. "Cashmere knows a lot of people. That's why she's your mentor. It won't last forever, but we'll try."

Katniss made herself look up. They were genuinely trying to help her, and taking a risk to do it, it seemed. So she met each of their eyes in turn. "Thank you."

From there, Cashmere and Gloss took her to the victor prep rooms with Cinna and Portia. Lapis was waiting for them, and the conversation about her clothing style, makeup, and accessories was tame enough as long as she could forget what it was for. Cinna had the book of "Katniss's" designs, and picked out several to actually make. Cashmere liked one of the daytime outfits enough to order it.

Lapis treated Katniss like a young child, which was irritating, but he was relaxed and helpful to Cinna and Portia, which she appreciated. "If you'll permit, I will be happy to arrange Katniss's appearances prior to the start of the Games - the interview night in particular - so you are free to concentrate on your tributes." Katniss was grateful for that. She would tolerate Lapis's condescension if it meant Cinna and Portia being able to do more for Anise and Glen.

On the other hand, Lapis insisted - and Cashmere and Gloss backed him along with Cinna and Portia - that Katniss needed makeup training. "Really, Miss, you can't go out in public with a bare face and your hair in such a plain braid. It simply isn't done here. It won't do you or your tributes any favors to appear so underdressed, even briefly."

They parked her in front of one of the large, bright prep mirrors with a folding case of colored powders, tubes of gel and little bottles of cream, and made her learn step by step how to paint her own face. "It's either that or let Lapis visit every morning," Haymitch pointed out.

Whose side are you on?  Katniss glared at him in the mirror, but he just laughed. He looked bored through most of it, but he didn't leave.

It actually wasn't that bad, she found, although it took her a couple of tries to layer the colored powders over her eyes and properly brush the tint to her cheeks. The colors were soft and subtle, nothing like the garish stuff Effie and the other Capitol characters wore.

Portia wasn't that bad, although she seemed to prefer a brighter palette for herself, and at least had a little sympathy for Katniss's struggles. "Luckily you're so dark to begin with that you don't need much in the way of eyeliner or mascara even for a formal event. On a regular day, as long as you shadow your eyes, you can probably get away without it."

Learning to do her own hair was a lot more difficult. She could braid it quickly and deftly, but Lapis complained, and Gloss and Cashmere agreed (if with a little more tact) that the hairstyle which had been Katniss's signature as a tribute would not do now. "You already look quite young," said Lapis. "You must show some sophistication."

A couple of pins to tuck up the braid into a bun or twist were easy enough, but it took an embarrassingly long time for her to master the few clips and ties that Cinna gave her to try non-braided styles. They seemed determined to go in crooked. Portia gave her a list of programs for the shower and driers to give her hair the right texture. "Soft waves for these partial-ups."

It was all incredibly tedious and would probably expand her morning grooming time exponentially - and she burned herself with the curling iron. Johanna, passing at the time as luck would have it, gave her an almost sympathetic look in the mirror. "There's another reason I chopped mine off."

"Never!" exclaimed Portia. "I love your hair, Katniss."

They finally released her when Seeder stuck her head in and announced lunch was up. It was in the break room off Mentor Control on the thirteenth floor. Katniss was surprised to find every single victor there, even some who weren't actually mentoring from some of the Career districts, and the room was full of cheerful chatter and laughter. Some of the mentors were in the same sort of condition Haymitch had previously been in, due to age, drugs, or who-knew-what, but were all there and most had someone from outside their district talking to them.

Beetee sat down on her free side. "I'm doing the tutorial this afternoon with Seeder if you would like to join us."

"I would," Katniss agreed, eager for anything to get her away from scrutiny of her looks.

"Word on the street is this arena's going to be verrry creative," said Antonius Stanton, the male mentor from District 2. There was a chorus of groans. "Heavensbee has a real artistic flair."

"Was he on staff for yours, Haymitch?" Cashmere asked.

Haymitch shook his head. "Nah, the Fiftieth Games was before his time, unless he was an intern or an aide. And Crane's, for that matter. I think Cicero Roth was the Head Gamemaker then."

"That'd make sense; Roth was a sadistic bastard," growled Chaff, refilling Haymitch's glass. "I'm surprised they're not working you over every time you go out the door."

"Oh, they've tried," said Haymitch, sipping his drink. He jerked his head at Katniss. "Lucky I can hide behind my new partner.  Getting you up to speed has given me an excuse to beg off all that crap."

Katniss smirked. "I knew there had to be a reason you sat through my makeup session." There was a gale of laughter around the table that made her feel ridiculously gratified, that she'd cracked a joke and people had responded.

"Tony and I sat through Twenty-Five and Fifty again this morning," said Lyme, another victor from Two. "I'd forgotten what a bitch those arenas were." She pointed her fork at Katniss. "If you haven't done it, make sure you do."

"I've seen them all," Katniss replied. "Or all the ones available anyway, from the Eleventh on.  They're archived at our Justice Building."

"And you watched all of 'em?!" Chaff demanded incredulously. "Damn! How long did that take?"

Katniss shrugged. "Every day, two or three, for about six weeks. Some really late nights."

"Woo! Hard core!"

"Nice!"

Enobaria shot her an approving look. "I hear half the candidates wanted to learn archery back home."

"Not much call for it on the water, but we had some bow orders," said Marina.

"Is it... is it usual to share information?" Katniss asked.

She was answered by numerous, casual nods. "Rule One, newbie: what happens in the arena stays in the arena," said Johanna's partner, Larch Emery.

"And what happens in the Capitol stays in the Capitol," added Johanna.

After lunch, Haymitch said, "I better go check in with Effie. I'll see you after your tutorial."

A Gamemaker's aide came down from the upper floors to give the tutorial, and arranged Katniss, Beetee, and Seeder side-by-side on monitors and took them through the steps of powering up. "If ever you have difficulty with response from the interface or the monitor, be sure to page an aide. We're on duty throughout the Games for technical support. Of course, Mr. Latier could probably run circles around us."

"There's always something new I can learn, young man."

The aide, who had sky blue skin, royal blue hair, blue lips and blue clothes, beamed at Beetee. Katniss had a sudden mental image of him on a date with Octavia and had to jam her teeth into her lower lip to keep from laughing. Seeder looked curiously at her, but she shook her head.

"Anyway," said Blue. "In keeping with tradition, our tutorial will cover last year's Games, so Miss Katniss Everdeen can see how her mentor managed her sponsorships and monitored her progress, and it should be fresh in everyone's mind.

Katniss wasn't at all eager to relive her own Games, let alone from Haymitch's perspective, but bit the inside of her mouth and said nothing. Her heart still hammered when the monitors called up the scene before the Cornucopia with all the tributes on their launch pads. The countdown flashed bright and above them, and Blue pointed out the "alternate view" control that would show certain hazards. All of the launch pads were red until the gong went off, then switched to green, and a district number hovered over all the tributes' heads as they charged off the plates. They learned to zoom out and zoom in, and view the now-published statistics of the arena: its size, topography, weather conditions, and to center the view on their tributes or some particular place.

The second screen, divided in two, showed Katniss and Peeta's faces, and their vital signs. Katniss's breath caught at the sight of Peeta, even just his neutral headshot that had displayed throughout the Games. Seeder discreetly patted her knee. Also visible on those screens were their respective totals of "Committed Sponsor Funds."

"Notice that most sponsors will choose to support one tribute, but some will leave it to the mentor's discretion," explained Beetee. "I see you had five exclusive sponsors and Peeta had four, but Haymitch could also elect to spend funds from any of the other three for either of you."

On the third screen were the sponsor fund totals and "gift options." Katniss learned to scroll through the choices by topic: nutrition, medical supplies, weapons, miscellaneous, but blurted out, "Holy shit!" at the prices.

"That's a tradition too," remarked Seeder.

"Now let's move ahead." Blue typed a command into his console, and the playback jumped to the night that Katniss had received her first sponsor gift. They followed her race through the woods pursued by the Career pack, with Blue matter-of-factly commenting on her heart rate, diagnosed injuries, and showing them a "Recommendations" tab that would offer particular remedies.

Katniss Everdeen. Injuries: Respiratory Distress, Smoke Inhalation. Burn, Second Degree. Burn, First Degree. Recommendations: Burn Treatment. Click for Options.

She clicked the recommendations and found a list of different ointments, pills, and bandages available for various prices. Haymitch certainly hadn't skimped. The one he had chosen exhausted a lot of her sponsorship money, but she imagined herself watching another girl in this situation. If she didn't recover enough to escape the tree, saving the money wouldn't make much difference. After she cut down the tracker jacker nest, there was a sudden increase in the number of sponsors and her fund total. They had apparently loved her for that.

Peeta's confrontation with Cato had been ugly, and only Cato's tracker jacker stings had prevented him from chasing Peeta down after delivering the brutal injury. Haymitch had scrolled repeatedly through treatment options, but apart from a tourniquet or some antiseptic, there was nothing he could afford.

She was intrigued and touched to find that Haymitch had repeatedly searched out Rue after the two of them had allied and separated on their mission to attack the Careers' supplies. Rue had gained three sponsors by then, one of whom was titled District 11, Local, and grew by tiny fractions. Katniss and Peeta each had a similar source, and Katniss could tell by the tiny coin-by-coin increases that these were the contributions from the Seam, the town, and the Hob. Haymitch had received Inquiry messages that popped up on the corner of one screen from sponsors throughout the Games, including ones from District 12, Local. It was Mayor Undersee, relaying a message from someone in District 12 wanting to know if only money would do or if they could send something else. Haymitch had replied that only money was accepted by the Gamemakers, but any little bit would be appreciated, and he would take suggestions for a particular gift.

Katniss kept her eyes fixed on the sponsorship screens when Rue died, and a message popped up for Haymitch from District 11, Local.

Transfer of deceased tribute's funds authorized to Katniss Everdeen. Gift Requested: Bread, Local, District 11.

Haymitch had accepted the transfer, small as it was, and initiated the delivery at once.

A few minutes later, a new pop-up, this one from Mentor, District 11, Dalia Walters: "Fuuuck! Eleven's rioting in Rue's home zone, Haymitch!"

"Connection to Katniss?"

"I think so, they all did that salute of yours back at her, and all hell broke loose. You need damage control or arena's liable to turn on her. Want me to monitor?"

"Please."

Open Monitor Access Authorized: Dalia Walters .

"This was allowed?" Katniss murmured, desperate to think of something other than herself crying for Rue and Peeta murmuring her name in his sleep on a riverbank.

Seeder nodded, her own face drawn from remembered grief for Rue. "It's a favor we've all done at one time or another for the solos. We can't authorize sponsor gifts or transfers, but we can keep an eye on the monitors and vitals and bring the mentor up to speed if they have to step away, and have them paged if an emergency happens."

Katniss was deeply relieved that Blue didn't take them to the end of her Games, so she didn't have to watch Peeta's vitals go flat. Instead, they did a simulated Games scene to go through the process of authorizing gifts, transferring sponsor funds, and locating their tributes.

By the end of the four-hour tutorial session, there was a weariness in her bones worse than a long day of hunting, and she felt even more drained inside than she had after watching the archived Games. So much would depend on her choices. In a few days, Anise and Glen would be in the arena, with Katniss’s fingers on the controls, their sponsors sending messages and requesting gifts.

She was wandering around the Control Tower, not ready to return to the Training Center, when she came upon Gloss, Finnick, and Johanna, laughing and joking. "And,  she's sulking again!" snorted Johanna.

Gloss punched her hard in the shoulder. "I remember you being a real barrel of laughs after your tutorial."

"My tutor - fuck, I forgot. Sorry." Johanna walked away in a hurry.

Finnick and Gloss watched her go, then looked at Katniss, then each other. "Come on. The kids aren't done training for an hour. Let's put our feet up."

Too disoriented to protest, she let them lead her upstairs to the atrium with the "entertaining" apartments. Katniss faltered to see a few people milling there, including a Capitol patron who exclaimed, "You're not breaking her in yet, are you?!"

Finnick and Gloss moved swiftly to flank her and steered her towards one of their rooms. "No, no, just a little friendly advice for the new arrival!" Gloss hustled the door of his rooms open and let them in, then slammed it shut. "FUCK! I am so sorry, Katniss. I just meant to get you some time off the bugs."

Dazed, Katniss looked around Gloss's apartment. Decorating to his taste meant lots of black and silver, but also deep jewel greens and blues. "Why is your room off the bugs? Cashmere said… "

"She said be careful. At least this year, you're under scrutiny, though we'll try to at least get you clear on the first night. Once you settle into the role they want, they'll pay less attention."

"Seriously, Katniss, come sit," said Finnick, tugging her to the sofa. "You have got to calm down, or you'll end up having a nervous breakdown. You can't help your tributes then." Gloss brought her a glass of water, which she gulped gratefully.

"You sure you don't want something stronger?"

Katniss shook her head. "I'm afraid I'll start and not stop."

Sea green and smoky blue eyes met hers, understanding. "Well, that does happen. As you know." She narrowed her eyes, and Gloss protested, "Hey, I like Haymitch!"

"Maybe, but nobody's allowed to insult him but me," she informed him.

That got a howl of laughter and slaps on the back. "See, you're learning the ropes already! District partner privileges!" Finnick chortled. "Marina gives me more shit than everyone else in this place combined."

"Enough. No Games talk. I'm gonna practice," said Gloss, pulling a case out of a drawer in the dark wood desk. "Help yourselves to a book, take a nap, get a snack. Relax." He gave her a knowing smile. "And if you need the bathroom to blow off a little steam, we won't tell. We've all done it."

So Katniss went into the bathroom, her mind churning from the leer of the Gamemaker in the atrium, from the memory of Peeta, of Rue, and the awareness that she’d be putting that tutorial to use for Anise and Glen, and turned on the water in the sink so she could have yet another cry. To her relief, it wound itself down fairly quickly, and she washed her face and took the opportunity to reapply her make-up. At least it gave her a little practice.

The scene she found when she emerged was not what she expected. Gloss was indeed practicing: standing by the window with a fiddle, playing a beautiful song. Finnick was reclining on the couch with a book. Both were completely at ease. 

Katniss went to investigate the bookshelves and found Shakespeare's Tragedies next to Shakespeare's Comedies. She stared at their spines until Gloss finished his song, then turned to him. "That's beautiful. Is fiddle your talent?"

"No, my official talent is gemology. I'm pretty good at it too; it keeps me close to Cash. And it's interesting. But some passions you don't want to share."

"So your official talent is fashion design," observed Finnick. "Very ladylike," he chirped in a Capitol accent.

She grinned and admitted, "If I have a passion, it's probably hunting. Or singing. I guess I shared the hunting during my Games, but wouldn't share the singing." Gloss perked up and opened his mouth, then shut it. "What?"

"Nothing. Finn is really deep. He does both at the same time: poetry."

"Really? Cashmere said I should learn some."

"But of course," Finnick warbled, mocking the Capitol types again. "No lady's education is complete if she cannot recite the works of Byron and Donne. And Catallus if she's adventurous," he added, dropping the accent. "You might like some of it, though you seem like more of a fan of epics than lyrics."

"But Finn writes poetry," Gloss explained. "He recites the classics at events a lot, but sometimes some of his own." 

"How's that not sharing? Or is it only sometimes?" she asked, genuinely curious.

Finnick smiled, relaxed and a little smug, rather than the half-lidded, seductive thing he did in public. "Words can hide a lot if you don't know what the writer really means. I can recite my own poem, make it sound pretty and meaningful, make people laugh or cry, and in my heart I mean something else entirely. That's the secret to not sharing the passion. It's what we've all learned to do."

"I don't think I get it," she sighed.

"Give it time. None of us were good at this when we started," Gloss pointed out. "Not even those of us trained for it."

Katniss looked at him in shock. "Trained for this?"

"You didn't know about District 1? I thought everyone did." Katniss just stared at him. Gloss put down the fiddle and sighed. "You know we're a Career district. It's not just combat training, especially not District 1. We provide luxuries: silk, jewels, art, performers, and courtesans."

She had heard the word before, but assumed it was just synonymous with prostitute. Gloss seemed to be implying something else. "Courtesans?"

"It's essentially what we are, or so we tell ourselves. Trying to attach some status and power to it; sometimes it works. Venus and Cash pretty much written the book on doing it here in the Capitol." There was pride in Gloss's voice, but that same bitterness that Katniss had heard from his sister. "We're still under duress - all our families would pay if we tried to refuse outright. But to be treated like a prize rather than a toy, well, it's something."

Katniss frowned. "She said something 'off the bugs' in my room yesterday. About beating them at their own game."

"Believe me, there aren't many of us more passionate on that score than Cash," Finnick said. He scowled. "And that's really saying something."

Katniss realized what else said something: she had never seen Finnick Odair or Gloss Bryant appear truly angry, in all the years of interviews and appearances where the camera crews had put them on display. But this was another passion hidden from the cameras: rage at their helplessness, at the role they had to play, at the shreds of dignity they were trying to salvage. She understood that. Now she cringed inwardly for what she'd assumed of them before.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "In District 12, we - I - didn't know about this and, sort of, assumed the worst."

They both smiled at her. "No apology necessary. You saw what we wanted you to see," said Finnick. "It's what people on the outside have to see, and the only way to learn the truth is to survive the Hunger Games and be pulled in here too. I wouldn't wish that on anyone."

"Well, then I'm sorry for bringing down the mood when you're trying to relax?" she offered. They both laughed, and Gloss retrieved his fiddle and struck up a jaunty dancing tune while Finnick decided to order a snack. 

Katniss was willing enough then to shake off these dark musings that she got up and showed them a dance from District 12 to the same rhythm as Gloss's song. Finnick was fascinated and had Gloss play it again twice so Katniss could teach him the steps.

Cashmere and a few of the other mentors arrived to find them playing music on the speakers and teaching each other dances. "Hey, party!" Marina and Enobaria came running in past her.

They snatched some fun where they could; Katniss realized Seeder had been right. Gloss played a new song he'd composed himself and showed her the difference between a violin and a viola. He played both, and so did Cashmere. They played a duet for the group seated on the couch, floor, and desks.

"Has she piled books on you yet?" Enobaria asked Katniss.

"She wants me to read Romeo & Juliet ."

Gloss made his violin screech in protest. "Cash mere ! Seriously?! Romeo & Juliet ?!"

"That's just mean!" Finnick exclaimed.

"The fat cats'll be quoting it at her," Cashmere insisted, in a tart voice Katniss had never heard her use in public. "She has to at least know the story."

"Then get Johanna to read it," suggested Enobaria, munching on a drumette from the snack platter. "She's a riot."

"Good idea. And Finn can play Romeo."

"Been there, done that. I'll read the part, but I am NOT wearing tights again."

Conversation wandered through a number of topics and even turned to the previous Quarter Quell. "So you've seen your mentor in his glory days, huh?" Marina smirked. She had won just a few years after Haymitch. "Was that a surprise?"

Katniss had to grin. "He was kind of a looker, wasn't he?"

"Aw, shucks, sweetheart!" came a familiar voice from the doorway. Katniss buried her face in her hands amid a roar of laughter.

To Be Continued...

Chapter Text

By the time Katniss returned with Haymitch to the Training Center for dinner, she was actually in a good mood. The laughter in Gloss's apartment had been a little manic as several of the younger victors read from Romeo & Juliet , hamming it up as much as they could, but at least it was ridiculous enough for her not to wince at the mention of star-crossed lovers. 

Haymitch and Effie were going over a list of potential sponsors that Effie had accumulated as Anise and Glen arrived for dinner. Cinna and Portia were absent, working on the interview clothes as they had the year before.

"Eat up," Katniss urged the tributes. "One of the best things you can do is put on some weight ahead of time."

"So, let's start at the beginning," said Haymitch. "What are the stations?"

Katniss took notes there at the table, ignoring Effie's disapproving glance. We're working here, Effie. There were no stations she could remember not being there for her Games, so if there were any really weird environments or tricks being planned, the gym wasn't going to give it away.

"We practiced archery together, like Haymitch wanted," said Anise. "And the plants and knots. Then we split up in the afternoon for some of the others."

"How'd it go?"

Glen looked cautiously pleased. "I'm better at rock climbing than I thought I'd be. She got really high on the hanging ropes. They have some clubs and mallets to use, but I didn't. I’ll do that at the evaluation, like you said."

"Good, very good," said Haymitch. "Keep your mind on a plan for that. Anise?"

She considered it. "Well... I hit the target somewhere almost every time with the bow and the knives. For the evaluation…I could run one of the obstacle courses. I'm pretty fast. And the Gamemakers were watching me on the ropes."

"What about the other tributes? Anyone or anything that caught your eyes?"

"There were a bunch at the archery range this year," said Anise with a shy smile at Katniss. "The girl from Two has really good aim, but it takes her a couple of minutes for each shot."

"Aim for the torso," Katniss told them. "It's a big target and if you get them good, it'll stop them if they're coming at you. Better to slow them down or injure than miss altogether."

"That boy from District 1 kept looking at us," Glen told them. Anise nodded, looking nervous.

Haymitch shrugged. "You two are gonna get attention after what Katniss and Peeta accomplished last year. And there can be grudges at play. Best I can say there is keep your eyes open."

"Both from Two keep following Eleven around," said Anise. "We thought it was because of Thresh last year."

"Bet on it," Haymitch agreed. "So is the pack just One, Two, and Four?" They nodded.

"Exactly six," Glen confirmed. "The ones from Four spent a lot of time at knots. They'll have tridents, won't they?"

Effie did a little flutter of her hands. "That's something we need to keep in mind. The tributes are bringing their own supplies." Katniss nodded, holding up one of her notes pages.

"Four will have tridents, and nets of some kind," Haymitch agreed. "One and Two will have swords. Seven will have axes."

"What do we have?" asked Anise.

Katniss flipped through her folder to the supply inventory and handed it over. "There's two of everything. Effie says we'll be given some kind of say about what goes in the Cornucopia and what we can hold back for sponsor gifts, but we don't get to do that until you leave for launch."

"If there's something you definitely want to have handy, point it out," added Haymitch.

They spent a while going over the lists, letting Anise and Glen pick out the items that were top priority. "Wow, clothes," Anise muttered. "Would they send us up there naked?"

"Well…" Effie said.

Katniss stared at Haymitch. "They put me in a shift last year before I got to the Stockya - the Launch Room. Cinna was there with the clothes. If we have to provide them this year but don't know what it is until the start..."

"Everyone goes up in their shifts and has to get dressed at the Cornucopia." Haymitch laughed coldly. "Sounds like something they'd find entertaining."

After dinner, the kids went to bed, and Haymitch and Katniss returned to the reception hall for more sponsor courting. Mingling in the main hall only went on for about half an hour before most mentors and sponsors adjourned up to their district rooms on the floor above. Haymitch saw Katniss share a few smiles with some of the other victors, but she looked awkwardly towards the Career mentors again. The schizophrenic world of enemies in the arena and friends outside took some getting used to, they all knew.

They had a lot of visitors, more than any year in Haymitch's recent memory, but only two commitments. Now that Katniss had done the tutorial, she had a feel for how long the money would last, and Haymitch could tell she was discouraged.

"If the kids get decent ratings, we'll probably see more action," he told her.

She glared at their commitment pad. "Have you chosen yet?"

"No," he answered shortly. But he could tell what she wanted to talk about.

"You wanted to help Peeta after Cato cut him. Was that when you chose?"

"Pretty much. Oftentimes that's when the choice gets made, when there's nothing else we can do. So don't work yourself up trying to choose beforehand. Most of us don't."

"Good," she breathed, shutting her eyes. "They are going to stick them up there undressed - in shifts if they're lucky. Naked if they're not."

"I'd say that's a very good bet."

At the Training Center, he gave her a little tutorial of his own on their in-room interfaces, and they spent a calm enough couple of hours entering some of Katniss's notes and tallying their sponsor totals. Then Katniss asked him to keep her company on the roof. In the covering sound of the wind chimes, she said, "You never told me there was a riot in District 11 when Rue died."

Oh. Right. "Sorry. Had stuff on my mind since then. And after Snow came down on you I didn't want to scare you more."

She gazed out at the lights of the city, then deliberately turned away to look at the garden instead. "I'm glad," she whispered. "I'm glad they... did that for her. Dalia Walters thought it had to do with me?"

"You were the spark in their kindling, sweetheart. The song, the flowers, the salute. Why do you think they sent you the bread? They'll never forget you."

"But I didn't save her," she whispered.

"You can't save everyone, Katniss!" he hissed urgently, grabbing her arm. But she didn't bristle as he hoped; she just stared miserably at him. He sighed and pulled her into a hug.

The door to the roof opened. Katniss jumped back from him, but it was Seeder who appeared with a basket on her arm. "Gonna report you if you dig up the garden," he told her.

"Then I'll enlist your partner as my co-conspirator," she retorted. "Come give me a hand, Katniss."

At least it got Katniss smiling again, and they found a small patch to play with. Haymitch sipped from a wine bottle he'd brought with him and listened to them talking about plants, until Seeder remarked, "Mine tell me One is gunning for yours this year. Especially your girl."

"They noticed," Haymitch confirmed. "And Two has their eye on yours. Why?" She looked up at him and smiled. "There's an idea."

"Alliance?" Damn, Katniss was quick. "Eleven and Twelve again?"

He sat down on the stones next to their patch of dirt. "Not like the wolf pack. We can't match them head-on, and a pre-announced alliance would get a lot of attention."

"But?" Seeder smiled at them.

"We'll talk to ours. The Cornucopia's going to be a major wild card this year, but if they all make it out, I like it. Most might assume Katniss and Rue last year was a fluke."

Katniss made a face. "If One is after us and Two is after you, we might as well try and combine forces. Does Four have any special grudges this year?"

"Not that I've heard, which means they’re not likely to have any reason to object to One or Two’s target choices, so the pack is going to be after ours anyway," said Seeder.

"Glen may need persuading," Katniss said. "He's worried about even allying with Anise."

"It's the kids' decision," Haymitch told her. To Seeder, he said, "We'll let you know. Either way, we keep it quiet until they're in the arena."

"Absolutely." 

Haymitch had his doubts about a strategic alliance, but Katniss managed to get Glen to open his mind to the possibility. "You don't have to make up your mind right now, but think about it, okay? And be careful about tipping anyone off in training."

"The girl from Eleven looks strong," said Anise. "And the boy is the only one who went higher than me on the rope lines."

"But how..." Glen flushed. "When we know we can't win... how do you break up? Without having to..."

They obviously hadn't seen Haymitch’s Games. He saw Katniss glance sideways at him, and said in a neutral voice, "Career way, you stab 'em in their sleep. Non-Career way, you decide when you want to end it, and say goodbye and walk away. Remember, that assumes you live to that point, and if the entire Career pack is after you, that's assuming a lot. Their training ain't the only reason they win so often. That wolf pack of theirs is a strategy that's worked for decades."

"Maybe we should look for more allies," said Anise with a quirky grin.

Effie chuckled, but Haymitch warned, "That might seem good, but be very careful. If they don't get enough fighting, the Gamemakers won't hesitate to send in mutts to break up a pack."

The kids finished breakfast in silence, thinking hard. Glen said at last, "Whatever we decide, we'd better make up our minds today."

"Don't talk about it where anyone might hear you, but think about it," Haymitch agreed.

The second day of training was traditional mentor downtime. Few sponsors would give commitments now until the ratings were out. Cashmere had engagements most of the day, as did Gloss, so Haymitch took Katniss to join the others in the revolving gathering in Mentor Control. Lapis delivered some books for Katniss to read, and Johanna and Finnick returned from their morning engagement and did a side-clutching performance of some more of Romeo & Juliet. Johanna, while her usual caustic self, seemed to go out of her way to make Katniss laugh, which Haymitch appreciated.

Sweet, shy little Edie Crown from Ten sat on the other side of Katniss at lunch, and they murmured about the kinds of food they had at home. Haymitch and Chaff had their usual round of boozing with Bale Dennis from Nine and Satine Phillips from Eight. Beetee borrowed one of Katniss's new books and sat in an armchair with his feet on the nearest table. Finnick and Johanna left for their afternoon appointments, and several of the older victors headed off to catch naps.

Cashmere returned late that afternoon and beckoned Haymitch out. They joined Venus in prep. "Tip," said Cash. "Open auction for Katniss. Blind, but no gifting. Cash only."

"Damn, that rules Cinna out," he grumbled.

"Would he do it?"

"Of course, but not if it's cash payment - he doesn't have it. He and Katniss at least are close; I brought a pot with me thinking he might be the best and the safest."

"Katniss said she'd prefer a stranger," Venus pointed out. "I thought maybe Marcellus Graves."

"He's not bad, but better if it's not some Capitol freak. She'll have enough of those after the first night. I like Marcellus, but... what about Finn or Gloss? They have the dough, and she had a good time with them yesterday."

"They're both willing, but realize they've got their own clients to juggle. And unless you win again, they might have tributes in too." Cashmere scowled. "This isn't meant as a reprieve. It smells like roses."

"Shit." He knew what she meant.

The next day, Glen and Anise decided to accept the offer of an alliance. Katniss felt stupidly happy, even though she knew all too well the anxiety they were feeling. At least by planning ahead, they were able to consider it without danger breathing directly down their necks. "We want to plan to keep it to a particular time," said Glen.

"Time in the arenas is a relative thing," said Haymitch. "The only real way to measure it is by the number of tributes left." Both kids nodded. 

"I thought the final eight," said Anise. "That's usually when the Careers break up. And the Games usually last a few days after."

" Very good reasoning!" Effie praised her. "Glen?"

"I could do that," Glen sighed. "If we're still alive, right, Haymitch?"

That killed what optimism they had. Haymitch was the only one who seemed unaffected; he went right on with advice and instructions for the private sessions while Effie fretted and Katniss fumed. She managed to pull herself into the present to warn them about fickle Gamemaker attention at the end of the day, but glared at Glen.

Only I'm allowed to insult Haymitch.

It must have shown, because he grinned at her after the tributes departed. "Glen reminds me of someone."

"I was not that bad!"

He guffawed. She stabbed her fork into the remains of the ham on her plate, and he waved her off. "Relax. Nothing I haven't heard before. Come with me; let's talk to Chaff and Seeder."

The alliance was sealed privately, and it was a fretful pair of tributes who returned late in the afternoon from the private rating sessions. "I smashed up the sword dummies with a mallet," said Glen. "Felt kind of good."

Anise looked glum. "The obstacle course wasn't set up, so I sort of made my own. I ran down to the knives and arrows, got them like it was the Cornucopia, then did the hanging rope line with them before shooting and throwing."

"That's good," Katniss told her. "You adapted."

"But... it wasn't clean. I slipped once and missed some targets."

"But you kept going," said Haymitch. He smiled at her, so unreserved that Katniss and Effie were startled. "You Seam girls."

They all ate hearty at dinner and pondered establishing the alliance in the chaos of the bloodbath.  Katniss turned to him. "Isn't there a way we could... send messages like last year?"

"Messages?" Glen exclaimed.

"Haymitch!" Effie squeaked. "That would be against - "

"Not actual messages. She could tell from the food or medicine what I wanted her to do. Power of suggestion." He sat back with his feet on the table. "When there's an alliance, the sides can work together up here too. Katniss and me with Chaff and Seeder. It would have to be simple and cheap: bread. Always the cheapest."

"But no note in the bread - "

"Eff, cool it, you know as well as I do that we never touch the gifts. The bread is the message." He thought for a moment. "Four breads. Two of the Twelve rounds and two Eleven crackers - we've got those flatbreads and Eleven has crackers in their supplies. But if we get a feeling you need to break up early, we'll send you either one delivery of two Twelve rounds or two separate deliveries of one each." He looked from tribute to tribute, hushing Effie. "And they mean?"

"If you send two rounds together, you want us to leave together," said Anise slowly.

"And if you send them separately, you want us to separate entirely," concluded Glen. 

Haymitch nodded.  "Don't wait just for word from us. You'll be in there with them. Go with your guts."

Then they settled into the sitting room to watch the scores. Katniss noticed Anise staring at her. "What'd you do to get that eleven?"

Katniss sighed. "Something stupid. And when I got the eleven, I thought they'd given me a gift because they ‘liked my temper.' But we were wrong. A high score is a message to the other tributes too: this is the person to kill. So be careful what you wish for." Then Caesar's broadcast began. Anise inched just a bit closer to Katniss while on her other side, Glen moved closer to Portia. Out of the corner of Katniss's eye, he could have been Peeta again.

Star Forrester and Prize Nilsen from District 1 both scored ten. Livia Thomas from Two scored nine, Fabian Hall a ten. The volunteer from Three scored a four. "He could be playing possum. Watch out," said Haymitch. The girl from Three scored a five. Lars Nevis from District 4 scored a nine, and Pearl Moreno a ten. They went through the typical low range of the poorer districts, mostly fours and fives.

Then for Eleven, fourteen-year-old Grove Perkins scored a seven. "Nice, very nice. Untrained, low weight, young age - he impressed 'em somehow," said Haymitch.

Cherry Shaw scored an eight. "Good alliance!" Cinna breathed.

"Well, half of it," said Anise, sounding doubtful.

Then, District 12. Glen Sheridan: Eight. It was Portia who almost squealed this time. Anise McRae: Seven.

Haymitch anticipated Anise's mood. "Hon, most of our tributes have been lucky to get a five. Katniss and Peeta were a very rare exception, and it was like Katniss said - she pissed the Gamemakers off, and they retaliated. You're still above and beyond our usual scores, but the best part is that they haven't deemed you a threat early."

"And the alliance?" asked Glen.

"No one mentions it outside this room again: it's on."

Katniss spent interview training with Haymitch and both tributes. They didn't mind being coached together. Effie and Katniss worked with Anise on sitting, standing, and walking in heels, for which Cinna provided the actual shoes she would wear in the interview so she could get used to them. (That had been Katniss's idea.) Haymitch did his Caesar Flickerman imitation, which made Effie huff, but Katniss saw her stifling a laugh sometimes. At least the kids got some fun out of it.

Glen's difficulty with the interview was the same as Katniss's had been: he didn't want to please these people. Still, they could play off each other and lighten the mood, and Katniss took a page from Cinna's book by asking if they could regard Cinna and Portia as friends, and address them.

"Peeta had the trump card of his secret unrequited love," said Haymitch dispassionately. Katniss looked down. "Even if it hadn't been true and even if you two had gotten attached, that would be a bad idea. It only works once. However, Glen especially, praise for Peeta's courage and sacrifice might create a good impression. Anise, you have shared roots with our victor, and you look like her. You're her protégé. Praise her - they'll love that. And don't be shy about reminding them that you have many of her skills."

Lapis collected Katniss the next day to prep her for the interviews. "The tributes are Cinna and Portia's priority as they should be, but you are the last victor and should demonstrate your status."

He applied makeup from a dark palette that Katniss had worn before, but was nice enough to reassure her that these were Cinna's selections. He wove her hair into an intricate collection of loops and twists, fastened by pins topped with glittering fire opal. "Cashmere asked me to tell you that the hair pins are a gift, meant to be worn with the bracelet."

"Will I see her tonight? I'll be sure to thank her."

"Yes, and Gloss. He selected and cut the stones." Nestled in the loops and rolls of her hair were tiny tongues of flame or embers, like a low coal fire.

Her dress was black, but sophisticated rather than mournful or plain. Very dark metallic threads and tiny gems in shades of dark red and orange replicated the low coal fire, smoldering nearby as her new tributes burned before Panem. She had the strange experience of being seated in the audience surrounded by the Capitol elite. Am I any better than them? she couldn't help wondering.

She kept her hand locked in Haymitch's arm as the cameras gobbled them up in their seats. From the poorest district of Panem came the winners of the last Hunger Games and the last Quarter Quell.

Anise and Glen did well. She was in a silk gown with a brilliant sheen, dyed different shades of red and orange, a glowing coal from District 12. Glen's black suit was edged with the same fabric, making him look like metal heated in a blacksmith's forge.

Beetee's volunteer from Three had a terrible stutter. Caesar was gentle and helpful with him, but Katniss caught the intelligence in the boy's black eyes.  The boy from One looked disturbingly like Marvel. The girl, still a beauty, at least didn't resemble Glimmer or Cashmere; her skin tone was warmer and her hair was the color of honey. The girl from Two had dark skin and hair like Enobaria, and along with the boy, played up her ruthlessness and knowledge of killing.

The boy from Five was the youngest at thirteen, though the fourteen-year-old from Seven was the smallest. She was a pretty little thing with short hair like Johanna Mason. "I work in the mills," she told Caesar. "You can't have long hair around moving chains and blades!"

"Very smart," Caesar agreed. "And you sound like you're used to hazards at that."

Anise, though nervous, hit good notes. When the inevitable comparisons to Katniss and her fire theme came up, she said, "We're the coal district. Fire is part of all of us." The crowd roared its approval.

Glen, of course, was asked if he'd known Peeta. "A little. We made some of the equipment for the bakery, so I saw him from time to time. He was a credit to us all, and I mean to live up to it."

Katniss had time to brace herself for the cameras' attention to her after that, and applauded along with everyone else, making what she hoped was a determined expression. Effie, Cinna, and Portia were full of praise over dinner, but the kids were quiet. Reality was hitting them hard. 

Katniss confined herself to urging them to force themselves to eat and drink all they could stand. In the recaps of the interviews, Anise and Glen were praised, and the commentators prattled on District 12's rise in stature.

And then it was time for goodnight and goodbye. Katniss flailed around inwardly and settled on reviewing her notes with them. "Get your packs first. They'll at least have what you need to last a couple of days. Don't fight it out at the Cornucopia if you can avoid it."

"Look for Grove and Cherry. They'll know to watch for you," said Haymitch. "Stay alive."

After the kids went to bed, Katniss wanted to drop to the floor. Haymitch looked at her. "Stay here. Word on the street is that most sponsors are going to hold back to see what the arena has in store. I'll take the table for a couple of hours. Try to get some sleep."

After he and Effie left, Katniss sat in the mentors' sitting room fiddling with the tribute interface. The sponsorship funds already committed looked like such a huge amount, but in reality it would not buy a lot if Anise or Glen ran into trouble. Haymitch signed up one more sponsor for each of them over the next two hours. Lavinia came in with a tray of tea that Katniss  hadn't ordered, and held up a little dish with a sleeping pill or a little vial of sleep syrup with raised eyebrows. "No, thanks. I'll need to be alert in the morning." Lavinia pointed to her bedroom door, and she smiled. "Yeah, I know. I'll try. I'm at the Control Tower starting tomorrow, so I won't see you again until..." Until it's over. One way or the other. 

Lavinia hesitated, then came over and gave Katniss a quick little hug around the shoulders. Then she slipped back out.

Katniss tried to take her advice, but felt a sensation akin to panic each time she turned towards her bedroom door. So, with a sense of irony, she slipped out of their quarters and up to the roof. She settled down on the spot where she'd sat with Peeta a year ago, watching the crowds dancing below. 

"I didn't want to miss the party. It's for us, after all. "

Where are you? Where have you gone?

Would he be any better at this than her, sitting here a year later with two new children to go into the arena? The warm night air of early summer gave her no answer. 

She didn't know how long she'd been sitting there when the door opened, and a figure smaller than hers came out. In the shadows, she imagined Rue. But also gone all these months. She met Anise's tired, anxious eyes in the darkness, like Prim after a nightmare wanting to crawl into her older sister's bed. But Anise wasn't Prim, and she hesitated. So Katniss held out her arms.

The younger girl crossed the roof and sank into Katniss's embrace, shuddering. "Were you this scared?" she whispered.

"Yes." I'm still this scared. For you and for me. She bit her tongue. Anise didn't need that. 

The door opened again, and somehow they both knew without really having to look. Glen came quietly over to join them. Anise settled down on one side of her, Glen on the other. "Peeta and I were up here, that last night," she told them.

Glen looked at her, disarmed and as scared as his partner. He looked more like Peeta than ever. "Did you really love him?" he asked.

Katniss mulled the question, as she had so often over the past year. "Did I have to be in love with him to care about him?" she finally answered. 

"People have gotten... romantic in the arena before," Anise pointed out. "But you two were different."

Katniss shrugged, wanting badly to get off the subject. "There's no way to ever know. No matter what kind it is, the arena's a weird place. It's lonely. It messes with your head."

"I almost..." They looked at Anise. She bit her lip. "Sometimes I wonder if I should just give up. Just get it over with."

Katniss forced down the lump in her throat. "I think we all did."

"They want you to make it," said Glen tightly. 

Katniss was glad of the little spark of irritation. She grabbed Glen's shoulder. "I'd give anything to bring either of you home. If I could send you both home right now and go into that place again myself, I'd do it." 

She meant it. But she couldn't tell them that the place of nightmares was only the beginning, and if they survived, it would never end. 

At least she had snapped Glen out of his bitterness. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. About what I said to you... and Haymitch." When he opened his eyes and looked at her, he looked so much like Peeta that it almost took her breath. "Tell him that, would you?"

She forced a smile. "I promise."

"I wrote some notes," said Anise. "They're in my room. If... would you take them?"

Katniss gazed at a clock tower a few blocks away. Four hours until the tributes had to get up. "Let me take you back down. You can give them to me now, and I promise, I'll get them to your parents."

Glen shook his head. "I tried a couple times, but..." he shrugged. "Just... you can think of what I'd say, I guess." He gave her a weak smile. "You've been there. You know." Katniss nodded.

She took them back to their rooms. Anise brought out the little notepad from her nightstand that she'd filled almost entirely with messages for her family and friends. Katniss took it and tucked it into her pocket. "I know you may not be able to sleep. Try to drink water. Eat if you can. Be careful of what's in the arena. Almost everything in Haymitch's Quell was poison. You have to be very untrusting."

They nodded. Glen looked at Anise. "Well. That even goes for allies, I guess, but... maybe we can trust each other? As long as we're together." Anise looked him in the eye and nodded. "We'll try and get one of us home."

Katniss stepped forward and pulled Glen into a hug. Then Anise. A light kiss on each of their foreheads. "We won't give up," she whispered. "I promise."

"Thank you," each of them whispered as they trembled in her arms. 

They went back to their rooms. She went into the mentors' quarters and got undressed, but couldn't stand her bed tonight. So she curled up under her blanket on the couch in their sitting room. She actually managed to doze there a little. 

She dreamed of being in the cave again, Peeta at her side, stroking her hair.  But when she woke up, someone actually was sitting on the edge of the cushions, stroking her hair. She was too groggy and it was dark. 

It must have been Lavinia. It couldn't possibly have been Haymitch.

To Be Continued...

Chapter Text

Haymitch nudged Katniss gently back to full consciousness in the morning. "Have they gone?" she grunted.

"Cinna and Portia just arrived. Eat up." Breakfast was on the small table in their sitting room. "Going to be a big, big day." He was imitating Effie's words, but couldn't muster up the humor to affect her tone. 

She forced herself to eat a bowl of hot cereal and an orange and gulped some coffee for the energy. Lapis arrived as she was coming out of the shower. "Is it really necessary?" she huffed.

"I'm afraid so, Miss. Especially this morning as you proceed to the Control Tower; there will be cameras. You must appear prepared." He was unfazed by her crossness, but she couldn't deny his point. At least the clothes he put her in, pants and a candlelight yellow silk blouse and walking shoes, were comfortable. He dressed her hair in a smooth, handsome twist on the back of her head and applied makeup that mainly hid the dark circles under her eyes and the tension in her face. In the mirror, she looked older and far calmer than she felt. He pinned the mockingjay on her collar. "My very best wishes today, Miss Everdeen. Do not hesitate to page me if you require anything."

That startled her; it was the first time he'd shown any interest in her apart from her appearance. It could only be her already-surging emotions that brought a lump to her throat. "Thanks, Lapis." There was something intense in his dark, liquid eyes as he nodded his farewell, but then he was gone, and she had no time to consider it further.

Effie was waiting with Haymitch when she emerged from her room, her notes folder in hand. "There's a Gamemaker broadcast in fifteen minutes. Mentors are to remain in their quarters until nine."

"So whatever we do this morning, it's from here," Haymitch concluded. 

They set up their interfaces, and Effie sat at another desk with a notepad when the anthem played for a Special Quarter Quell Announcement. Plutarch Heavensbee appeared with Caesar Flickerman. 

" Good morning, ladies and gentlemen! As you know, today is the beginning of the Seventy-Fifth Annual Hunger Games! Four months ago, President Snow read the card that presented this year's reminder to the districts of the penance for their treason: On the seventy-fifth anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels of the struggle that resulted from the loss of all that the Capitol provides, each district shall provision its tributes with their supplies at its own expense .  The districts have gathered their provisions, and now, the mentors must decide which of these supplies will appear in their Cornucopias ."

Effie gave a little squeak, and Katniss and Haymitch looked at each other. Plutarch had paused to let it sink in.

Their Cornucopias.

Plural.

" They will have one hour. Each district has been provided with one of these Cornucopias ," the camera panned to Plutarch's left to show a golden horn, its mouth about six feet high and its length maybe ten feet. " They will appear at the launch an equal distance from all tributes. The mentors will be permitted to place as many supplies as they choose here in their Cornucopia, and keep whatever they choose in reserve for the sponsor gifts. An inventory of their supplies is now appearing on all mentors' interfaces. Time begins now. Good luck, and may the odds be ever in your favor! "

Katniss's mind raced. "We could fit everything in there!"

"Trust me, we don't want to do that." Haymitch was faster on the keyboard and the screen, so she abandoned her station in favor of letting him do the actual commands. A little gold cornucopia for their district alone spun on the screen next to their list of inventory. As she scanned it, it didn't look like anything was missing.

"Clothes. We still won't know the environment."

"Yeah, all of them." 

Haymitch deftly selected all the garments. Insert? Click to confirm. The little pictures of the clothes they'd assembled for hot, cold, or temperate weather zoomed into the Cornucopia. Highlight to relocate. 

"We can move them around!" Katniss gasped. "Put them in front!"

The clothes went into the very mouth of the Cornucopia, Anise's on the left, Glen's on the right, where they'd be visible. Effie had put on a pair of earphones so she could watch the television broadcasts without disturbing them. In the part of her mind not whirling with stifled panic and desperation, Katniss wanted to thank her. 

"They're not showing the mentors' choices, just speculating," Effie informed them.

"The packs look like they're still set up the way we left them," Haymitch said. "I'm putting 'em behind the clothes in case somebody else has a mind to grab."

"The belts. Don't forget those - put them right with the packs."

"Done. Weapons?"

"Glen's mallets. One bow and quiver each."

"Glen may not want the bow, but - look at that, we can put more in the packs."

"The packs are pretty full already.  What about the belts? Can we put something on them?"

"Hang on..." Haymitch tapped away. Those wonderful belts appeared, and sure enough, the hooks and loops were highlighted. "We can. I'm putting an extra water canteen there and another knife..."

"Those little mallets - put one of those on for Anise."

"Got it. Long hammer for Glen... we don't want too much on there. They're going to need to run."

"Right..." Katniss's eyes darted back and forth from the list on the screen to her notes. "Wait, put another coil of rope on each of them. That little one there."

"Done."

She forced her mind to stay on the task at hand and not to imagine what Glen and Anise must be thinking and whether they even knew of this. To narrow her mind to that screen, that list of precious supplies, that horn that seemed both huge and tiny. They could put everything they had in there and it wouldn't fill the thing, which felt pathetic, but at the same time, the more quickly the tributes got through assembling their packs and got the hell out, the more likely they'd escape the bloodbath with their lives. 

They assembled the items they knew would be most important in the first thirty minutes, with Effie listening to the broadcasts and staying quiet except to report the time, then they started culling. "Whatever's left in there, I'd worry that someone else would get it," said Haymitch.

"But what if sponsor funds run out?" Katniss pointed out, sounding dispassionate compared to the turmoil inside her. 

"Either way, it'd be lost. At least if we'd got it in reserve, there's a chance. Weapons always cost more. I'm putting those machetes in there. If the greenery is heavy, they'll know they need them."

"More medical stuff?"

"Nah, those kits in the packs will do them for a few days. If there's an injury, we'll send something." If we can. If we have the money, or if anything we have in stock will make a difference. He didn't say that, but Katniss knew they were both thinking it.

"Ten minutes!" Effie warned.

Haymitch sighed, scrolling through their list of "Cornucopia Contents." "I think that's as ready as we can make it. Eff? Come take a look."

She hurried to look over their shoulders. "This is far more than most tributes would come out of the Cornucopia with. If anything at all in those bloodbaths. As long as they can reach it and have time to dress and grab their packs and belts, you've equipped them."

"Point," Katniss agreed, rubbing her eyes as the adrenaline began to wear down. "It feels different this way."

"Because it's on us, sweetheart. That's the point," said Haymitch. 

They watched the last seconds tick away, then the screen announced, " Cornucopia Locked ."

On the television, the Capitol crowds now gathering in bars, parks, streets, and stadiums roared in excitement. Caesar Flickerman appeared to resume broadcasting speculation, and Effie sighed, "You two better head for Mentor Control now." She looked at Katniss. "You've done all you can."

Katniss was willing enough for a quick hug before they left their quarters. Lavinia was by the door as they went, but naturally, they couldn't do more than briefly meet each other's eyes. 

No laughter or cheerful greetings passed between the victors today. They rode down with Chaff and Seeder and acquired Districts 7, 4, and 3 on the way down, but other than a distracted nod or murmur of, "Hi," there was just heavy silence. The whole population of mentors had nothing to do now except head to the Control Tower and take their places. 

Katniss heard the ruckus outside and grabbed Haymitch's arm, ostensibly to keep from losing him in the crowds, but he was willing enough to tuck hers into his elbow as usual. The mentors came out of the Training Center doors to packed streets and frenzied cheers and flashing cameras. Peacekeepers had formed them a small corridor so they could actually get to the Control Tower, but it still felt incredibly claustrophobic. Katniss managed to keep from obviously trying to hide behind Haymitch and forced herself to just pay attention to where she was walking in the tight space.

Some of the spectators were actually yelling encouragement and good luck to her and to District 12, but unlike when she'd left back home, the words made no impression. These same people were the ones who applauded the Games taking place at all, who were betting on whether Anise and Glen and twenty-two other children would live or die, who might sigh when it happened but would cheer just as loud afterward. Their words were meaningless noise.

She wasn't the only one who sighed heavily as they burst through the Control Tower doors and headed for the elevators to the thirteenth floor. "Sorry, forgot to warn you about that," Haymitch said.

"That was the worst I've seen," muttered Johanna Mason, brushing off her jacket vigorously. She and Larch looked especially unsettled. Katniss supposed that being from the wide forest lands of Seven, such tight quarters were really unpleasant. She didn't disagree.

Up in Mentor Control, some of the mentors were already at the bar set up on one side of the break room, and a few were already tipsy. Had Haymitch been among them in previous years? That thought occurred to Katniss before she could check it. She managed to not look accusingly at him. 

The mentor interfaces were already up and running, but apart from the sponsorship tallies and generic tribute profiles, most of the screens were still blank. The big wall screen showed the same broadcast as the rest of Panem, just the seal and Welcome to the Seventy-Fifth Annual Hunger Games ! 

Katniss wandered around the big banquet table in the break room for something to do and to see if any of the food tempted her. Chaff and Haymitch did get drinks, but they were both sipping slowly. "Want a little bit?" Chaff even offered her, holding out his glass. "Settle the nerves?"

She actually considered it, remembering the little measure of white liquor Haymitch had given her on Reaping Day, but shook her head. "Try this," said Edie Crown from Ten softly, holding out a glass of fizzy, pale liquid. "It's not booze. Settles the stomach."

That she accepted, and the light, faintly sweet ginger taste was nice. At the fifteen minute warning, most of them headed to their stations and made a final bathroom run. "There's not much to do for the first hours but watch," Haymitch told her. He'd seen her watching some of the alcohol and drug-addled mentors. "Parachutes are useless in the bloodbath. Brace yourself. It's always nasty."

"How are they going to arrange twelve Cornucopias?" she muttered.

"We're about to find out," said Seeder.

"Five minutes!" announced an aide as if they weren't all watching the clock. "Trackers online, check your tribute feeds, please!"

The screens weren't showing the arena yet, but the tribute screens were now delivering data on vital signs. Anise and Glen were already showing accelerated heart rates and respiration and high blood pressure. No surprise there. Katniss stole a glance at Seeder's screen to her left. It was the same for Eleven’s Cherry and Grove. Location: Pre-Launch.

Blue came around to check all the stations and run some kind of five-second test that confirmed a connection with the arena. "The camera feeds will activate as the tubes move," he told Katniss and Seeder. 

"One minute!"

Location: Launch Tube.

They could be dead, flat-out dead, in a manner of minutes. Anise McRae and Glen Sheridan. The only daughter of Seam parents, a boy from the town with two little brothers and a little sister. Katniss didn't think she'd made a noise, but looked at Haymitch and found him looking at her. Her hand found his and clutched him for dear life. 

Location: Arena.

The main interface screens flickered to life at the same time as the seal of Panem vanished from the big screen to show a wide white landscape with a circle of gold in its center and twenty-four tributes rising into view. 

It was bright. Snow? No, not that white - sand. 

" Ladies and gentlemen, let the Seventy-Fifth Annual Hunger Games begin! "

Countdown. Haymitch gave her hand one fierce squeeze before releasing her to begin scanning the arena. "Jungle," he murmured. "Jungle and sand."

Katniss managed to remember the features of her screen and zoomed in on the circle of Cornucopias. They each had a golden number on top of the tail, and to her relief, there were Anise and Glen directly facing Cornucopia 12. As they had all figured, the tributes were in their shifts and barefoot. At least the surface was sand and not snow or rock, and the kids weren't stark naked. 

45...44...43...

All the tributes were right beside their partners. The circle of plates was very large, far wider than the one last year, but this meant there was space between the Cornucopias. 

30...29...28...

Glen was gesturing to Anise and actually speaking to her. Katniss put on her headphones and zoomed in to pick up his hissing whisper. " - dressed first, I'll cover you!"

“'kay!" From the corner of her eye, she could see Haymitch nodding in approval. A few of the other pairs were managing to take advantage of the proximity of their partners to make plans, but most were too frightened and frantic to think of it.

17...16...15...

They bent their knees. Glen exchanged a quick glance with the pair to his right: Cherry and Grove. Cherry made a quick, small gesture with her hand: right. Move right after the Cornucopias, away from the Careers who were far too close since the perfect circle meant that One and Two were directly to the left of Twelve and Eleven. 

4...3...2...1...

Gong.

Katniss had to stifle a cry at that sound. All the other mentors in her view had headphones on, so with luck no one heard her.

Anise was off her plate in a tremendous leap and sprinting full tilt. She stumbled a little, unused to soft sand under her feet, but moved fast and hard, while taking jerky glances to her left and right. Glen caught himself at the launch, scanning the sand for hazards, but as the other tributes went without problems, he took off after Anise. 

There seemed to be a slope in the ground towards the Cornucopia circle; someone fell hard on the far side but still rolled toward his horn. Anise glanced back as she gained the mouth of Cornucopia 12. 

"GO!" Glen bellowed at her. She snatched up her clothes; he reached her and grabbed a long-handled mallet with one hand and a machete with the other. "Get dressed! Hot weather!" he yelled at her and took up a defensive stance at the mouth of their horn.

Many of the pairs instinctively took up the same strategy of one standing guard while the other dressed, but some were too panicked. A few simply grabbed a pack or a weapon and fled, leaving everything else including clothing behind. Some took their clothes with them, hoping for a chance to dress in a place less exposed.

The Careers were opting to dress at the Cornucopias, and Katniss quickly saw why: One and Two had body armor, the same high grade stuff that had been sent to Cato at the feast a year before. She wanted to snarl; surely that virtually guaranteed a Career win. Someone in the room cursed so loudly that she heard it despite her headphones and the sounds coming through the speakers; it sounded like Johanna. Four didn't have armor of the same quality, but they had heavy black vests that covered the most vital areas of the torso.

A few of the girls were faltering at stripping naked in view and trying to shield themselves. Luckily Anise wasn't concerned with such a scruple in life-and-death circumstances and simply tore off her shift and hustled into the lightest of the linen pants and shirt. Already sweating in the heat - the temperature readout was 92 degrees Fahrenheit - she started to skip the socks, then caught herself and yanked them on before stomping into her boots. Good, good, Katniss chanted to her mentally. 

Strapping on the tool belt with deft fingers, she seized her bow and quiver and yelled at Glen, "Go!" He dove for his own clothes.

Some of the tributes in various states of dress were trying to get the jump on the others. The big boy from Six grabbed a club from his own horn and launched himself at the nearest tribute, the girl from Seven. Katniss felt a pang of sympathy, now able to connect the short-haired girl with the short-haired young woman nearby, but Johanna's tribute got lucky. Her attacker misjudged his swing and missed her, and she ran for her life towards the shadowy jungle with a pack in hand and a tool belt of her own around her shift. Six went for another victim, the little boy from Five who panicked and ran back into his Cornucopia. Six gave chase, but then – 

BANG! An explosion at Five's Cornucopia made Katniss and many other mentors lurch back in surprise, grabbing at their headphones. 

Not the Cornucopia itself, but just in front of it, a blast hurled the boy from Six halfway back to his launch pad. It didn't obliterate him as the mines had from the previous years, but he was a bloody mess, writhing and helpless.

Many of the tributes stopped in their tracks, searching around for the source of the blast. Those on Six's side of the circle quickly figured it out: Six had tried to enter someone else's horn. The boy from Four who was dressed with trident in hand and considering taking a run at the vulnerable Three pair between him and his fellow Careers, stopped so fast he fell on the sand. 

"Hold it, hold it! They're mined!" he shouted, seeing the pair from Two dressed only in their armor but also looking at Three's horn. 

He was far enough from Cornucopia 12 that Anise and Glen might not have heard, but on the other side of the circle, the boy from Ten had seen something he wanted in Eleven's stash. Grove, standing guard while Cherry dressed, screamed for her as the bigger boy came towards him, but the blast, while large, mostly just startled him. But it injured the boy from Ten just as badly as it had the boy from Six. 

Cherry put it together. "Don't touch the other horns!" she shouted, and ran out of theirs to make sure Anise had heard. "Stay away from the others!"

"Got it!" Anise shrieked back, an arrow at the ready. 

Glen, now dressed, strapped on his belt and tossed her pack to her while slinging on his own. "Let's get out of here! Get a machete!"

"Get a bow and quiver!" 

"I can't shoot!"

"THEN HOLD IT FOR ME!" She darted her hands over their small piles of items, stuffing the light jacket into her pack and grabbing Glen's as well, shoving a few of the smaller items into her pockets without really looking to see what they were. Glen saw her point and grabbed the bow and quiver he'd been given and an extra water canteen. 

Cherry and Grove appeared, moving out of their Cornucopia. "You coming?!" 

Anise ran for them while Glen shot a quick look toward Cornucopia 1 on the other side. As big an advantage as the full-length body armor would be, it was slowing the Careers down to get into it. "We're clear! Let's go!"

"Stay away from the other horns!" Cherry repeated, armed with a vicious-looking scythe in one hand and a long knife in the other. Grove had a sickle in his own hand and his and Cherry's packs on his back. "One of you get the rear!"

"I got it!  Anise in the middle!" Glen ordered, shoving her in front of him and keeping his mallet and machete to hand. "Bow's no good now!"

At the circle, the pair from Two were screaming profanity as they saw their grudge targets escaping, but were called back from giving chase by their fellows to hunt down easier prey until the pack could finish assembling. 

District 3's boy had escaped cleanly, with no visible weapons but a sealed plastic box in one hand and his soft pack in the other, wearing only his shift. District 3’s girl was caught by Four's nets and killed by their tridents. Other tributes were also lingering at the Cornucopias, hacking away at each other or huddled in panic inside their district's horn. 

The Eleven/Twelve alliance gained the tree line and faltered for only a moment to look around before plunging in. Anise had slung her bow on her shoulder to carry her machete without tripping over it, and joined the others in hacking vines and roots out of their way. "Careful, there might be traps!" warned Glen.

"We gotta get a head start on ‘em!" Cherry retorted. They did slow down, forced to do so anyway by the heavy undergrowth, but kept moving as fast as they could manage.

Katniss began to catch her breath. She'd been panting as heavily as if she herself were running for her life again. As the quartet stumbled to a walk, exhausted by the heat and the frenzied effort of running on sand, they found themselves unpursued and willing to dare a slower pace. Cherry kept the front, Glen kept the rear with the younger pair in the middle, and Anise suggested they use their blades in the growth as little as possible to conceal their path. Grove shot a quick grin over his shoulder at Glen and Anise. "You two're gonna be good allies!"

Glen broke his own grim expression to smile. "So're you."

Instinctively, Katniss looked to her left and saw Chaff and Seeder grinning at her. 

Within another hour, Effie sent Haymitch a page. Multiple interested sponsors. Need someone at your table. 

He showed it to Katniss. She looked panicky at the thought of leaving the monitors, so he stood up, stretching his stiffened legs. "Don't worry, I'll go. You'll need to put in an appearance at some point, but I'll do the first one. With the alliance on, you can talk with Chaff and Seeder, but you page me if you think they need something." She nodded, looking dazed. He squeezed her shoulder and brought her a glass of water before heading out.

Seeder followed him with a pleased expression. "Bassanius has some waiting for us too. This is looking better than better."

He rubbed his eyes, feeling stiff and drained from the tension of the bloodbath. "I dunno. That was awful easy on them." This is a Quell. The twists are still coming. Seeder gave him a quick pat, and they sauntered off the elevator together on the third floor - mentors of the Eleven/Twelve Alliance. There were cameras at the ready.

In Twelve's lounge, he greeted Effie and the prospective sponsors and took a few minutes to watch the broadcast on the lounge screen with them. "Amazing!" gushed one of them. "I haven't seen such a quick alliance run so smoothly outside the Careers in all my days!"

"We've got resourceful people in District 12," Effie said. "And District 11 - those districts know hardships and how to make do. Our Katniss paved the way last year."

On the broadcast, their quartet was making its steady way deeper into the jungle in search of water. The bloodbath was winding down, with tributes either dead, fled, or holed up inside their horns, trapped by the Career pack now patrolling the perimeter of the circle. There were plenty of goods left in the Cornucopias, but to the frustration of the Careers, unreachable. Every so often they would haul a body over and toss it at another horn to see if the mine triggers were still active. They were.

Finally, Lars Nevis from Four said, "Enough. Let's get our stuff together."

"Four more still inside," reported his partner, Pearl Moreno.

"We can't get to them like this. I don't like sticking around - no way will these things stay a shelter," said the girl from Two.

"Which way did Eleven go?" asked her partner.

"West. Twelve was right with them. I'm with Lars; we need to take what we can and move away. This spot smells like a trap," One's girl insisted.

The feed began to shift from tributes hiking through the jungle to the Career pack assembling and assessing their supplies. Haymitch closed four more fat sponsorships. As expected, many were fussing to see Katniss, and he'd have to send her on the next run, which she would hate. Still, he felt stupidly happy knowing how she'd react to seeing Anise and Glen's fund totals rising on her screen.

The Careers had been heavily stocked, but no way could they carry more than a fraction of it with them. It was a lot of work to roll their water kegs alone up the sand to the tree line. The rest of their supplies were easier, but still too bulky and heavy to keep all the time. The pack was debating the feasibility of establishing caches in different areas - smart, if tiring and time-consuming, Haymitch thought - when a low rumble brought them all to their feet.

The noise was enough to reach the Eleven/Twelve quartet in the jungle. "Earthquake?" demanded Glen.

Anise pressed her hands against some exposed rock. "Can't tell. Doesn't sound like mutts." They kept their weapons to bear nonetheless, grouping close together.

Cherry tilted her head. "It's coming that way - from behind us." She looked up at the trees. "Let's get some height just in case." The group chose trees and began climbing, scanning the ground. 

The sponsors in Twelve's lounge were silent, watching with excitement, as the feed went back to the Careers, who ended up with a much closer view of what was going on. "HOLY FUCK!" yelled Prize Nilsen from One as a geyser of water blasted upwards from the very center of the circle of Cornucopias.

To Be Continued...

Chapter Text

One of the four remaining tributes still in the horns burst out in panic. Fabian from Two started down the sand to intercept him, but his partner, Livia, pulled him back. "That may not be water!"

Damn, smart pack this year, Haymitch thought. The Careers held back, hopping in frustration as one more tribute fled the circle, but now that the drama of the geyser had caused the audience to do their oohing and aahing, it became clear that it was just water. The height dropped but the volume grew, and in a few more seconds, the circle of Cornucopias was flooding.

The feed switched to the view of the remaining pair of trapped tributes, hiding together in District 8's Cornucopia. Both screamed in panic as water rushed in. The girl was forced back from the mouth of their horn by the pressure and pinned inside as her own supplies were pushed against her. Haymitch swallowed hard as the boy managed to escape the death trap, but it quickly became clear he could not swim. The girl who had fled District 9's horn at the last moment was also caught by the flood as she ran, but she could swim and managed to stay afloat until she was washed onto the sand near the launch pads. 

The Careers from One and Two looked poised to go after her, but the pair from Four wisely held them back. "Trust me, we want to keep our distance even if it isn't poisoned," said Pearl. "Let's keep moving our stuff and back up 'till we know how deep that's getting."

Lars Nevis from Four kept staring, grim-faced at the struggling boy from Eight. "Shit," he muttered as the boy went under  the rising water, and then turned away.

Haymitch recalled from his examination of the topography that the jungle sloped upward from the circle of sand around the Cornucopias. When the feed returned to his group deep in the trees, he found that sure enough, Anise and Grove had climbed up to a height sufficient to see back down to the circle, though some sort of rat-like rodent had scared the hell out of Anise and she'd nearly fallen. Now turning their attention back the way they'd come, they were both open-mouthed. "Damn," Grove said.

"What? WHAT?!" Cherry bellowed up at them.

"Hope you didn't leave nothing important in the Cornucopias, 'cause it ain't there no more!" Grove yelled.

"It's flooding down there," Anise added. "I can't... I hope nobody was still in there. The Cornucopias are gone. The sand's a beach now."

Glen looked down at the ground from his own position about twenty feet up. His tree was too narrow in the upper branches for him to safely get much higher. "Is it still rising?" 

"No, it looks like it's stopped about where the launch tubes were. I can still see the sand... wait..."

"Is it going down?" demanded Grove.

The Cornucopias were rising back into view. The water level appeared about the same that Anise had observed, lapping at the pedestals, but the circle of gold horns was emerging at the center, each on a tiny island. Haymitch watched curiously, unable to tell if anything - or anyone - was still inside until one of the feeds showed the interior. At first the horns were empty, then the floor of each Cornucopia split open and the remaining supplies stocked by each district rose back into view. 

At the tree line, the Careers watched. Livia from Two shook her head. "Sooo, who wants to go check and see if they're still mined?"

"Looks like a job for Four," said Star from One.

"Piss off, princess," Lars retorted. But he did go down to examine the waterline. "Saltwater," he said as he returned. "Figures. We've got our own little beach." He grinned up at the sky. "WHERE'S OUR FISH?!"

Pearl snorted. "If you get eaten by a shark mutt, I'm going to laugh my ass off."

"Shut up!" Livia snapped. "From your lips to the Gamemakers' ears, stupid!"

In the lounge, Haymitch shook his head at the sponsors. "Colorful pack this year. I'd better get back to my rookie and take stock. My thanks to you all for your generosity. Effie, send us a page if anything comes up."

"Of course. Give Katniss my love."

Haymitch arrived back in Mentor Control to the sound of the cannons giving the post-bloodbath tally. The big screen was split to show multiple tributes counting softly along with each boom. Several mentors were already wearily turning off their interfaces. "Nine dead in the bloodbath," Katniss told him. "Six, Eight, and Ten are done."

"Light year," he remarked. Those district-exclusive Cornucopias had confused the hell out of everyone. 

Katniss motioned him closer. "This is weird. I keep doing the search for water, but it shows the entire jungle."

"Hm." Haymitch slid into his seat next to her and entered the command to view the water sources. As Katnss had said, the little sea now in the center was lit green for undrinkable water, but drinkable blue water was shown as all the area covered by the jungle foliage. "Interesting." Mist? There was certainly plenty of it. Rain? None shown on the weather readouts. The vegetation was lush, but apart from some sort of nuts that grew in clusters and a few fruit trees, there was very little identified as food. "Well, they're serious about us providing for our own tributes in the way of food, but according to them, there's plenty of drinkable water."

He and Katniss zoomed in on various cameras, searching the roots of the tropical trees and considered that the water might need to be dug. Checking their tributes, they found that the quartet had reached the same conclusion and were rooting under what Cherry and Grove had identified as a rainforest tree that required lots of water. "Those can only survive in the climate greenhouses way down south," reported Grove. "At least it has to rain a lot."

"Are they edible?" asked Anise. 

"Just the fruit, and it's not on this one. Tree's too young, I think."

Cherry sat up from where she'd been digging and wiped her face on her shirt. "I got nothin'. The soil's wet as hell but it's not giving anything drinkable."

"How's your water supply?" Glen asked them. "I've got two half-gallons, Anise has another half."

"Each of our skins holds almost a gallon. But we're gonna go through it fast in this place," Cherry replied. "What we got'll keep us a day, maybe two, then we're gonna be in trouble."

"Haymitch, look at this." Katniss was playing with the zoom and the water view. Zooming all the way in on the place where the tributes were standing, the blue highlight of water was on only some of the trees.

Haymitch sucked in his breath as it fell into place and began scrolling through their inventory. "Come on, come on, tell me we didn't load it... yes." He pointed at his screen under Miscellaneous , little tools and odds and ends they'd collected around the district for the "you never know" contingencies. Katniss almost squealed. 

"How soon?" she demanded.

"Psst. Hey, allies." He reached past her to nudge Seeder, who removed her headphones and nudged Chaff in turn. "Wanna go in on a gift?" 

They worked out the cost as their quartet took a break, sipping from their precious water supply and eating some of their bread and a few bananas they'd found. "So you're Glen," said Cherry, gesturing to him. She frowned at Anise. "And, what was it? Licorice or something?"

Anise's mouth fell open, and Glen blinked, then laughed harder than Haymitch and Katniss had ever seen him do before, nearly falling off the rock where he'd been sitting. Even Grove was looking appalled. " Licorice?! "

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry, I didn't mean anything by it! I just remembered something about..."

"It's Anise," the Seam girl informed her, trying hard to act indignant. "And I think I'll call you Prune."

That got both boys laughing even harder, and the girls shaking their heads. Haymitch and Seeder queued up the parachute and launched it. The kids forgot their amusement and jumped up as it drifted into their view. "I got it!" Grove seized it and pulled it open while the other three clustered around. "Two more of your little breads and two more of our crackers. Huh. Not like we were short."

Anise and Glen grinned at each other. "It means the mentors approve. Of the alliance. See? Two Twelve and two Eleven, same parachute," explained Anise. "And... what's this?" She pulled out the fifth gift, turning the bent metal tube in her hands curiously. 

"That's not from ours," said Grove. "I know all our stuff."

"It's ours, I just..." Glen's eyes lit up, and Haymitch nodded to himself. Good thing they'd gone over all the inventory with the tributes. "We use it in Twelve to tap trees for maple syrup. It's a spile." He took it from Anise and went to investigate the nearest trees. "What do you think? 

There's something about the sap? Did you notice anything when we were climbing?"

"I just got moss all over me," said Cherry. 

"I got soaking wet..." Grove trailed off and he and Anise stared at each other. "There were those little rat things up in the branch forks. You thought they were mutts. They were all wet too."

The kids found one of the soft-barked trees that Anise and Grove had climbed, and pressed its trunk experimentally. Cherry stopped them from just hammering the spigot straight into the wood. "You might damage it. I got a bradawl somewhere... here we go." 

She had a little satchel of tools in her pack and found an awl to make a hole in the tree. Glen carefully pounded the spile in, and they stepped back eagerly. For a few moments, nothing happened. Then water began to drip, drop by precious drop, down the curved surface. Cherry caught some in her hand and sniffed it, then carefully tasted it. She grinned broadly at her cohorts. "Fresh."

"WOOHOO!" Grove bellowed. 

Cherry swatted him. "Shush, kid! There's Careers and who knows what else out there! Let's fill up and move along. We can let it treat while we walk, just to be sure."

Anise handed Glen her empty canteen and motioned upward at Grove. "Let's keep watch. You two get the water."

As the pair took up posts in the branches on either side of the water tree, Glen and Cherry filled the fourth canteen and the two spare water skins, adding the drops of iodine. They called Grove and Anise back down, but then Anise stiffened mid-climb. "Ssh!"

The other three froze. In Mentor Control, so did their mentors. Haymitch zoomed in on Anise, then scanned out until he found what she saw: another tribute. Not a Career; it was the boy from Three.

Anise slowly shifted into a sturdy fork in the branches and nocked an arrow to her bow. On the ground, Glen, Cherry and Grove quietly shed their packs and drew weapons. Anise looked down at them and held up one finger. "Three!" At their confusion, she clarified, "District 3!"

One tribute from District 3, Byte Cheong. That intelligent eighteen year old with untold technical skills, obvious brains, but who stuttered so badly he struggled to communicate.

Anise, arrow at the ready, was trembling. Glen and Cherry had shoved Grove behind them, weapons out, but they were all shooting each other doubtful looks. This was the Hunger Games; they were supposed to kill him. 

Grove bit his lip. "We could just let him be."

Visible to Anise in her tree but not to the ones on the ground - and visible to the mentors, of course - the boy from Three scanned the foliage ahead of him. Then he picked up a stone and tossed it, seemingly at random. The resulting sizzling flash and POP! made the ones on the ground dive for cover, but had the unfortunate effect of startling Anise to where she released her arrow and nearly fell out of her tree. The shot went wide, but Anise's yelp as she caught herself alerted the stranger.

They stared at each other, and then the boy, who Haymitch recalled was named Byte, recognized her. "T-Twelve!"

Anise scrambled down, and Byte started in her tree's direction, but Glen jumped up and brought his hammer to bear. "Hold it, Three." Grove and Cherry flanked him. "Back off."

"I am... f-friend."

Cherry pursed her lips. "You saying you want to ally?" asked Grove. Byte nodded.

Katniss turned eagerly to Haymitch. He held up a cautionary hand. On their screens, Anise reached the ground and joined the group, considering the lanky older boy. He would be the oldest of them all, but he had no weapon, only that plastic kit of his along with his pack. At least he was dressed now. 

Haymitch saw Beetee and Linea looking at him across the interfaces, and said aloud, "Their call. Down, sweetheart," he murmured to his frustrated partner. "We can't hold their hands."

The quartet looked at each other, then Byte glanced around. "Ca-reers," he said softly and pointed over his shoulder.

Cherry huffed out her breath. "Fine. You can come with us for now. Don't try anything." But Byte held out a warning arm when they would have started in the direction they'd been going.

"N-not that way. See?" He tossed another rock. Again, a flash and a zapping sound.

"Forcefield," murmured Anise.

"Okay, Three, you navigate. Let's get moving," said Glen. Their now-expanded alliance took off.

Haymitch sat back and looked at Chaff and Seeder. "What do you think?"

"I've got no problem with Three in general; genius is their average intelligence," said Chaff. "Though this one's gonna have to impress them fast." He looked at Linea as she made her way to them. "Will he be useful?"

"Oh, I think so. Hand to hand will be a problem, but he has plenty of other skills."

Haymitch yawned and looked at the clock. Three p.m. "You want to think about shifts?" he asked Katniss.

"I couldn't sleep yet." Her stomach rumbled so loud that Seeder started laughing, and she grinned sheepishly. "I wouldn't say no to some lunch, though."

"Go eat," he told her. "Your old partner could do with some shut-eye, so I'll go downstairs for a bit when you're done."

Katniss nodded, hesitating only for a moment before standing up and stretching. Quite a few other mentors were starting to do the same. "It's going to be quiet for a while. They've had their fill today."

Seeder headed downstairs herself, and Chaff leaned back in his seat, stretching his legs and sipping a drink. "You want something?"

"Nah, I'm good."

Chaff shot him a knowing look, but managed to hold his peace. They both knew that even during the last Games, Haymitch had had to grit his teeth against the temptation to get wasted, let alone turn down any booze at all. He'd tapered off his drinking a lot in the past year if his body was no longer screaming for it every second. "That girl is fast ," he remarked, seeing Beetee joining Katniss in the break room. "Took me about four years to figure out the rhythm of these things, and she was working it out while she was still in the arena."

"Yeah, I noticed that too. Problem with Katniss is she can't slow down. She knows, she goes. No waiting, no thinking. Damn tiring."

"Ah, younger partners. Dalia was the same; girl wore me the hell out."

Once Katniss returned, she was confident enough to not look nervous or reproachful at Haymitch leaving to sleep. As with everything else, she had picked up the interface system fast, and she had both Chaff and Linea to fall back on for assistance while the tributes were allied. But with these her first Games as a mentor, adrenaline would keep her from sleep until utter exhaustion took over. Haymitch no longer had that problem; though he never slept well while his tributes were alive, post-bloodbath was an important rest period.

He joined a flood of veteran mentors heading down to residential for their first sleep break - the first time he'd ever actually used Twelve's little apartment in the Control Tower while his tributes were in the Games. If Katniss weren't here, they'd be pulling the doors to the break room closed and dimming the lights for him, trying to keep quiet if they needed food or a drink.

It made him a little antsy, being down here knowing Glen and Anise were still in there, but he needed his wits about him for what was coming. The tributes needed him clear-minded, as did his novice partner.

But to his surprise, knowing that Katniss was still there, watching with intent gray eyes, he found sleep came easily.

Katniss watched her alliance making their way through the heavy undergrowth, keeping the boy from Three on their left flank to track the force field. They kept quiet, aware the Careers were on the prowl, but occasionally threw a stone to confirm the field's location. Byte Cheong was a remarkable boy. He could apparently see the field. 

He communicated with the others with his stammered words and gestures, and when Cherry asked how he could tell where the field was, he shrugged and tapped his head.

Darkness was starting to fall and tributes were looking for places to hole up during the night. The alliance found a likely spot under some overgrown fallen logs amid the dense vegetation. They'd have a hard time getting out of it in the dark, but someone else would also find it hard to find their way in. "You gonna sleep in a tree like your Katniss?" Cherry asked Anise.

"Sure, I've done it before. Especially when it's not cold out. You just find a wide fork and strap in." Grove looked doubtful but was probably light enough to try it.

"So we let the little ones up in the trees?" Glen asked, getting noises of protest from the younger pair. "Or should we all stay together?"

"Watch," said Byte. "We sh-should... keep watch."

"Good point."

"I can do it," Grove said. "Little or not, I ain't that tired yet."

"Then Twelve can take second watch," Glen concluded. "Wake up Anise or me if you get tired - we should all try and get a little sleep. Dunno about you, but I didn't sleep last night."

"Did anybody?" grumbled Cherry. "That's a plan. You two be careful going up and down in the dark. And keep quiet."

"Too bad we haven't got those night vision glasses," sighed Grove to Anise as they headed to the trees. "Our mentors tried but couldn't get 'em."

"Bet you the Careers do; they've got effing body armor," Anise groaned. She picked a mossy tree with a lot of vines and arranged the heavy vegetation around herself to hide as best she could before strapping herself in with her pack behind her head. Katniss had to zoom in with several different cameras to get a clear view of her, which boded well.

Grove went up high and nestled himself a ready-made blind of willow-like foliage, peering through it as darkness fell. On the ground, Cherry and Glen arranged more vines and branches to hide their little shelter. Inside, they found Byte carefully assembling a tube of clear glass or plastic over one of his empty canteens. "What's that?" Glen asked.

"It is... for water. C-collects... dew." Byte beckoned them over and touched a finger to the clear material. Fog formed on it even at the slight heat of his fingertip.

"Cool!" Glen breathed, and grinned more easily at Byte. "I think you're good as an ally."

"I... try. P-promise."

Cherry gazed at the little gadget with fascination. "They use stuff like this down in Grove's zone if it doesn't rain enough. Show it to him tomorrow, will you?" She too gave him a smile. "What's your name, by the way?"

"Byte."

Cherry tilted her head, puzzled. "You mean like 'take a bite?'"

He laughed and shook his head. "B-y-t-e. It is...u-unit of measure. Infor-mation."

Katniss smiled as she watched them breaking out rations and sipping their water. Then they all jumped as the first notes of the anthem began to play, and hurried outside to see the list of dead. Katniss sighed, having already worked out most of them. Byte closed his eyes when the first to appear was his District 3 partner, sixteen-year-old Zelda Lee. Next came the girl from Five, both from Six, both from Eight, the boy from Nine, and both from Ten. Glen put a cautious hand on Byte's shoulder, and they all slipped silently back into their shelter. Up in the trees, Grove and Anise pulled their faces back into their concealment.

How reality snapped back into place with the anthem, Katniss thought bitterly. If she was to have any hope of bringing Anise or Glen home, all of these allies must die. Tough-but-forgetful Cherry, sweet, willful Grove, and Byte with his brilliant mind and keen eyes. And one of her own. Anise, who had clung to her last night but still tried so hard to master her terror. Glen, old enough to be angry about all these injustices, but with his two brothers and little sister like Gale.

She hunched forward in her seat, feeling near-physical pain at the awareness that at the very best, she would never see one of them again. From the corner of her eye, she saw Chaff watching her. He reached out and patted her hand with his one good one. "You need Haymitch?" he asked softly.

She shook her head and told herself to get a grip, and started searching out the other tributes. Both of Seven's were tree-sleeping as well; the tiny girl was up so high that even if the Careers saw her, they'd have no chance of getting to her. The boy was bigger and lower to the ground, but had the sense to disguise himself with foliage. The youngest, the boy from Five, had dug himself a hideaway beneath the roots of a huge tree. The rest had found clumps of bushes and hollows to hide and rest as much as they could.

The Careers, as Anise and Grove had predicted, were on the hunt with the night glasses. They had ended up zigzagging through the jungle to deposit some small caches of supplies and separate their water kegs, but that reprieve for the rest of the tributes was now over. Katniss sighed to herself. Not only did the Careers now pose their usual threat to everyone else, but it was obvious they had learned from the mistakes of their predecessors. They had actually packed food and water for themselves, though the pair from District 1 were grumbling about the weight slowing them down. "Skip it if you want, but don't expect drinks from us," retorted Livia from Two.

At least there didn't appear to be any obvious sadists in the group this year. Then again, the talk of killing people slowly hadn't come up among her own Career pack until she pissed them off with the tracker jacker nest and destroyed their supplies. While One was gunning for Twelve and Two was after Eleven, it sounded like they'd be content just with the kill and not torture.

That was a bizarre exchange. Once the Careers had separated out their water kegs and moved the bulk of the supplies into hiding places in the fringe of the jungle, an argument broke out between Prize and Star from One and Livia and Fabian from Two over who the first priority kills should be. 

"I'm telling you, Twelve's boy is going to be the threat," insisted Prize. "He's the biggest of them, and he's a blacksmith."

"Still, indoor work," said Livia. "It's the Eleven girl. She's got that strong, silent thing going on. If they're together, she'll be leading them."

"Says the girl whose predecessor got brained by Eleven," retorted Star. "So much for warrior courage."

"You wanna push that, Princess?" demanded Fabian.

"OKAY! We do not have time for this!" bellowed Lars, storming between them. Up until that point, District 4 had been sitting the debate out. He pointed at Star and Fabian. "You and you, front and center! We settle this now: Rock, Paper, Scissors!"

They blinked at him. Pearl collapsed with laughter, pointing at them. Laughter stifled to varying degrees had rung through Mentor Control as well, and Katniss heard Johanna mutter, "Just... like... Finnick."

Threatened with the absurdity of being forced to play Rock, Paper, Scissors at trident-point, One and Two agreed that they would let the situation play out, since Eleven and Twelve appeared to have left the Cornucopias together and each had people who posed a potential threat. But as they trekked into the jungle, Lars and Pearl repeatedly promised that such a settlement would be forced on them if they continued whining about it. "Now shut up and keep your eyes open. There could be anything out here," ordered Pearl.

As Careers went, Katniss decided she kind of liked District 4. The pair from there had at least shown some sign of compassion for the tributes who drowned at the Cornucopias. Katniss wasn't the only one who had noticed; Fabian tossed a nut shell at Lars. "You fishing types don't like drowning, huh?"

"It's not a good way to go, no," Lars agreed.

"Yeah, I get that. There's a reason we like our combat - at least it's quick. If you ask me, the worst way to die is - "

"Shut UP, Fabian! I swear, I'm belting the next one of you who gives the Gamemakers ideas," hissed Livia.

Then sound rang through the arena. At her seat, Katniss jumped and saw multiple tributes popping out of their hiding places in alarm. Bong...bong...bong... It wasn't the trumpets that heralded an announcement or summons to a feast - and it was quite early for them to be holding such a thing. Nor was it the cannon that heralded a death. It sounded like... bells.

To Be Continued...

Chapter Text

Startled awake by the sound of bells, the members of Katniss’s alliance kept to their cover and peered out into the dark. "What the..." muttered Cherry. "Hey, Grove! Anything?"

"Nothing."

"Twelve," said Byte. Glen looked at him and Anise popped out of her vine blind, but Byte shook his head. "C-counted t-twelve."

"Weird - " Grove began, then brilliant flashes and noise nearly startled him off his perch in the trees. "Whoa!"

"Lightning!" yelled Cherry. "Get down, both of you, GET DOWN!"

"It's out there!" Anise pointed. "It's not on us." The Gamemakers had generated what appeared to be a lightning storm over a particular patch of arena. Luckily it was some distance from the group.

"I don't care, get out of the trees!" Cherry insisted.

"Yes, yes!" Byte agreed, beckoning urgently.

The two decided to accept the extra caution and scrambled down from the trees and into the shelter. It was tight quarters with five of them, but at least they were at ground level. "So do we move or stay put?" Glen mused, listening to the thunder.

"S-st-stay," urged Byte.

Cherry nodded. "I'm with him. This is a good spot. That'll have woke everyone up. Let's wait 'till dawn if we can."

Anise shifted herself up under the big tree trunk so she could peer out. "Well, I'm awake now. I'll keep watch for a while. Anyone know what time it is?"

"Don't look at me, I didn't bring a watch in here!" said Grove. They all chuckled and started to calm down, gradually curling back up on the soft, spongy earth.

The lightning rumbled on, occasionally reflecting in Anise's eyes as she kept watch, but Katniss doubted that anyone would see her if they didn't already know she was there. The Careers eyed the storm and decided to move away, which happily was now taking them in the exact opposite direction from the other alliance. There didn't seem to be any tributes directly under the lightning storm, though those in the areas nearby all packed up and started walking or tried to actively burrow under something just in case.

After the storm rumbled down, drops began to spatter the ground in another part of the arena - this much closer to Katniss's alliance. In fact - yes, Anise noticed it. The rain was coming down on their area. The others raised their heads as it began coming down above their shelter, and Byte turned on a tiny light to check out their canteens and water skins. "Oh, yeah, good thinking. I think we're okay, mostly, but at least we know it rains," Cherry mumbled drowsily, passing her skin over. "Maybe fill 'em up if they need - "

"AAH!" Anise lurched out of her nook and slid to the floor in alarm. "What the - that's not RAIN!"

Katniss caught her breath. "Page Haymitch and Seeder!" Chaff ordered an aide.

In the arena, Anise’s shriek had awakened the group completely, and they scurried to the center of what now seemed like a very inadequate shelter. Byte held his little glowstick to his hand and stared in shock at the red fluid. His mouth moved, but he couldn't even get out a syllable. Anise too had the stuff on her. Glen rubbed at it. "Not poison? Does it hurt?"

"Uh-uh," Anise gasped in relief.

Grove leaned toward her stained hand and sniffed, then raised his eyes in the dim light with a repulsed expression. "It's... blood !"

Maybe not dangerous, but the group huddled in shock and disgust as dark red liquid dripped from over their heads, ran in rivulets over the ground, and coated the greenery. Someone screamed out in the darkness, and they all flinched, but stayed where they were. "Do we run?" Cherry whispered.

"Oh god, no, not out there," Anise whimpered.

Byte held up his glowstick to the entrance of their hideaway, and found blood flowing in a near-continuous sheet from above. He shook his head. "W-we could... not… see."

"Yeah, let's just sit," Grove agreed. The others nodded.

"Put that light out, Byte," said Cherry.

Haymitch returned with Seeder at his heels. "What've we got?"

"It's raining blood on 'em," said Chaff. "Doesn't seem dangerous but plenty freaked 'em out."

"Ugh," muttered Katniss. "Let's send them some soap when it stops." As much as their shelter was protecting them from the worst of the downpour, the way they were all covering their faces and flinching spoke volumes about the psychological effect it was having. 

At least one other tribute - the girl from Nine - had been caught in it and was running blindly around, gagging on mouthfuls of the stuff.

It stopped after about an hour, and the group decided to stay put until dawn.  A few of them actually managed to doze against the sticky walls of their shelter, or just on each other. Katniss shuddered to imagine what they and their surroundings would look like when the sun came up. 

The Career pack ended up with their own problems. What Katniss (and the pack) initially assumed to be mist in the predawn turned out to be some kind of corrosive nerve gas, which they discovered when the two tributes from District 7 came staggering and screaming out of the jungle ahead of it, their skin blistered and their bodies twitching. 

Lars Nevis netted and speared the boy with his trident as they ran, barely breaking his stride, but they dropped a lot of their supplies as their limbs began to suffer from every droplet of the stuff. Katniss didn't see where the girl from Seven went, but her partner was the only cannon. The Career pack burst out onto the beach, tumbling down the sand in some vague notion of retreating to the little arena sea, but the fog stopped at the tree line and finally dissipated.

Lighter on their feet, the girls staggered ahead as the boys dropped onto the sand. Pearl hauled herself down to the water, looking at it like a refuge, but screamed out loud when she tried to wash her blistered arms. "Prl?" Lars croaked.

Pearl shrieked again, but she had her arm in the water and was gasping in pain, but also relief. "Wa-ter," she rasped at the others. "Get - in - water!"

Katniss grimaced. By rights, she should have been hoping they were dying or crippled. But all she could do was imagine their agony. 

The poor, tiny girl from Seven had collapsed in the undergrowth, whimpering and moaning, and in the open on the sand, the Careers' faces were contorted with pain and the strange, horrid effects of whatever chemical was in that gas. Pain was pain, and Katniss wanted it to stop.

In the morning, Katniss’s alliance emerged to a repulsive landscape coated in sticky red and brown. "Let's...get...out...of...here," groaned Anise.

"You think we can risk going back to the Cornucopias? There's water there now - we could wash up," suggested Cherry, trying to keep their packs and weapons from touching anything (with little success.)

Grove looked around, as if considering climbing a tree, then decided against it. "Maybe it didn't get the whole arena. We could walk out of it in the trees, come up real slow and see if anyone's around."

Byte nodded vigorously. "Yes. B-blood's not...dangerous," though he made a face of disgust. The group moved out and cautiously made their way in a curve towards the beach. Eventually they came out of the blood zone, as Katniss had privately dubbed it, and scrubbed at their weapons and clothes with moss.

"Nasty," muttered Glen, then shrieks in the distance made them all freeze. Grove scaled a tree, but shook his head at them. "Birds?" Glen suggested.

"Bird or animal," Grove agreed, coming down. "The beach looks empty."

They quieted down as much as the dense vegetation would allow as they drew closer, weapons at the ready. Around midday, the lightning started up again almost on the opposite side of the arena. The group waited until it stopped, then resumed their careful advance towards the beach. 

Cherry stopped them all in a clump of obscuring bushes and whispered as softly as she could manage. "If we're gonna do it, we need to do it very fast and very quiet. You think you need anything from the horns?"

"Uh-uh," Anise said firmly. "We'd have to swim out to them, and who knows what's in that water. If the District 4 Careers showed up, we'd be screwed."

Katniss anxiously searched out the pack. They were sleeping near one of their caches with Star on guard, but she seemed more worried about threats from the jungle again than going up a tree to check out the Cornucopias. This is a good time. 

She considered asking Haymitch to send the kids something to urge them to go, maybe a sponge, but bit her tongue. He was right; they needed to let their tributes expect to think for themselves, to say nothing of the cost of even a small sponsor gift. They shouldn't waste the money trying to direct the kids to decisions they could easily make on their own.

The alliance slowly crept up to the tree line. Anise and Grove climbed up one more time to search as deep as their vision would allow. Katniss saw the girl from District 7 huddled in some bushes not far away, but doubted she'd think to challenge them. She looked to be in bad shape from the nerve gas, maybe unconscious.

Byte took point, holding several of the packs and canteens so the others could keep their weapons at the ready. Then they slipped down the sand, which luckily absorbed much of the sound, and dropped down next to the waterline. Cherry had a little strip of some kind of chemical paper that she used to test it - it didn't read acidic, so she tested it with a fingertip, then tasted it. "Saltwater," she hissed. "I think we're good, wash up fast!"

The kids splashed themselves down in a rush, scrubbing wildly at the stickiness in their hair and working the worst of the blood from their clothes. It was going to be pretty obvious that they'd been here, given the stains they were leaving on the sand, but it couldn't be helped. Byte had stripped handfuls of the moss from the trees as they'd left the jungle and hurriedly cleaned off his plastic box and the outsides of the packs. They all scrubbed furiously at their weapons and water containers and their spile. "Are we good?" Glen demanded.

"Yeah, let's go."

They hurried across the beach, and Katniss sucked in her breath at the sight of the nerve gas fog rolling thick directly ahead. Luckily, Byte recognized it as a possible threat and pulled them back. They gazed warily at the haze as it blanketed one area of the jungle, then seemed to be sucked back into the sky. 

"I do not want to know what that stuff was," said Glen.

"Think that area might be safe now?" suggested Anise.

Cherry shook her head. "I don't like it, why don't we - "

Someone screamed in the jungle to the right of the area where the fog had been. The kids readied their weapons, but the screaming took on a sustained, frenzied quality that suggested this wasn’t a human attacker. It was a child's voice too. 

Katniss moved her search into the woods and saw Haymitch out of the corner of her eye, looking like he wanted to grab her hand away from the scroller. Something was starting to carpet every surface of the jungle just south and east of where the nerve gas had been. It was moving.

"Whoa! Shit, watch it!" On the beach, Grove pulled the others back. "Army ants!"

Cherry made a low noise of horror. "Ant mutts, probably. Goddamn, I feel sorry for whoever's in there."

Katniss could only bear one look at the writhing thing on the jungle floor and wouldn't have been able to identify him but for the district number superimposed above him. It was the boy from District 5, the thirteen year old. A boy Prim's age, this year’s youngest tribute, being slowly flayed by millions of insects. 

Across the room, Tesla Malcolm quietly got up and left her station for the bathroom. Her partner from District 5, old Al Cohn, sat hunched in his chair, his wizened blue eyes just staring dully at their monitors.

On Katniss's screen, the alliance decided to move back towards the woods with the gas, but went past where they thought it had been. It took forever for the agonized shrieks to stop, and the cannon to fire. The group huddled together in the undergrowth, trying not to obviously cover their ears. "Who do you think it was?" murmured Grove.

"Y-young," said Byte. He sipped from his canteen and shuddered, shaking his head.

They were now on the opposite side of the ant area from the Careers, who had been awakened from their post-gas recovery by the youngest tribute's screams. Livia Thomas from Two even picked up her bow and headed toward the sound, but once she saw the ants, she backed off. "Call it a hunch, but I think our stash in there is gone too." As silence fell and the cannon sounded, she muttered, "I'd have shot him if I could've seen him. What was that about not-good ways to die?"

Even the Careers were solemn-faced. "I think I'd pick that nerve gas over that," said Pearl. "Though - are we sure we're away from it?"

"Yeah, it was on the other side of those..." Lars, rubbing some greenish ointment on his blistered skin, sat bolt upright. "Lighting - fog - ants - it's coming towards us!" The pack exploded to their feet in a flurry of greenery and bags, and in a second, they were running.

They gained the beach as a faint rustling was heard from behind them and took up a defensive stance, but nothing emerged. Still, even the insect and bird sounds from that area of the jungle had stopped, apart from that strange rustle in the trees. "What say we stay here for a bit?" suggested Prize.

Katniss saw that her alliance was close enough to see the pack. They hunkered down in the heavy greenery. "Something scared them," murmured Grove.

"If they set up camp on the beach, we can't go down there again," said Cherry.

"They m-must hunt," said Byte. "Always." The others looked curiously at him, and he carefully slid his tool box in front of them with a smile. "W-we could ...be ready."

After nearly two days on her feet, Haymitch ordered Katniss to go get some sleep. "They pushed the envelope with those ant mutts, and the audience will be curious to see what Byte's got in his box. I doubt they'll spring anything on them for a while." As much as she loathed the idea of being away from the monitors, he knew she was feeling the exhaustion, and she reluctantly agreed. "I'll page you, sweetheart, I promise. Go on."

She stumbled out, and Haymitch looked over at Chaff, who had already returned from resting. Beetee came to join them. "What's your boy got up his sleeve?" Chaff asked slyly.

"We may need to call in some expensive sponsor gifts," Beetee remarked. "But I think it will be worth it."

On the monitors, the Three/Eleven/Twelve alliance watched the Careers milling on the beach and waited until they went back into the area stripped by the ants. "Okay, genius, what's the plan?" Glen asked eagerly.

Byte opened his box to reveal all manner of wires and gadgets, but one particular little box. "Th-this is to... g-generate current. Electric," he explained haltingly. "If I charge to... maximum... lethal." The other four leaned back from it, and he grinned. "It is n-not d-dangerous alone. It m-must be s-set. Then w-wired..." he showed them a spool of fine gold line, "to s-something. When charged..." he pursed his lips in frustration, then gestured to one of their canteens. "If you t-touch ch-charged object - " he tilted his head.

"Bzzt!" finished Glen, and Anise and Grove giggled. Byte grinned and nodded.

"How long would that take?" asked Anise. "To set it up?"

"N-not long to set. To charge...t-twelve hours."

Cherry got to her feet and gazed around them, smirking. "This whole place seems to be shaped like a bowl. We could be uphill from them and see them coming if we're in place. They'll have more supplies stashed somewhere - we've just gotta find them. What about us? Would we be safe?"

Byte nodded firmly. "The charge w-will be s-small in area. I d-do not... think we can... take them all." He set down the canteen and held out his arms to indicate the area, maybe five square feet.

"Still, if we timed it right, we could probably take out at least one or two," said Glen. "And on a slope, we'd be able to get back. Anise and Grove in the trees, maybe Cherry and me on the ground to guard you. C'mon." He beckoned them all to their feet. "Let's get to work."

The search got under way. Haymitch searched out the Careers and found to his amusement that they were hiking on their hunt for tributes on the opposite side of the arena at almost the exact same pace as his alliance. Barring a crisis, they were unlikely to stumble across one another.