Prologue- The Before

The Seventy-Third Hunger Games

"Tell me Katniss Everdeen of District Twelve, is there anyone special back home you're fighting for?"

A long moment passed between the scrawny fifteen year old tribute and Caesar Flickerman- who watched with masked pity as deliberation smothered her features. She chewed her lip thoughtfully, and the dead air hung between them in a growing gap that would be sure to leave many eager Capital citizens restless.

"Yes, there is." She answered carefully, though Caesar could see the words hanging on the tip of her tongue. All it would take was a little more prodding, and he'd have done his duty before time was up. "My little sister Prim. I need to make it back for her."

Just a little bit more. "But I take it that's not who you're thinking about." He hinted, and her grey Seam eyes flicked up to meet his briefly, before they fell away in the direction of the audience. I'm trying to help you, he thought, watching impatiently- this moment could make or break you in the arena.

"No, she wasn't. I was talking about my boyfriend. He's a wonderful person, and I care about him more than you can imagine. He made me promise to fight; promise to come home to him. " She forced it out with such conviction that Caesar's perfectly groomed interview face nearly fell away in the midst of his shock. Her time on stage was drawing to a close, and he managed to compose himself.

Shouts of encouragement had rolled across the crowd, and he knew undoubtedly that Katniss Everdeen was sure to be a favorite this year. All the odds were turned in her favor- the eleven in training had turned more heads than her fiery entrance at opening ceremonies. And now this.

"Will you fight?" He asked, and in that moment he could feel the tension seeping off of her, but beneath it was a grim determination and love.

"Until my very last breath."

Cries rose up from the audience until it became a small feat to sort through your own thoughts. There was barely time for him to ask, "What is this special boy's name?"

The buzzer blared just as she uttered out, "Peeta. Peeta Mellark." And then she was gone, her dress a fiery trail behind her. In the audience, Caesar almost swore he saw Haymitch raising his drink to her.

Backstage, Katniss Everdeen breathed a welcome sigh of relief before her prep team descended on her. They squabbled and squeezed her shoulder comfortingly because it was just so heartbreaking. She forced a smile, but truth be told, she knew they would never understand.

Peeta had saved her life, Prim's life, her mother's life. And while Prim was at the top of her priorities, he was there too. Because without Peeta, whom she was sure she could love forever if life would let her, neither of the formerly mentioned people would be there at all.

And that was something that she could never repay, though until a few days ago she had been sure she would have the rest of her life to try. Even Gale, her best friend, who carried himself around in a fit of barely contained rage for a week after she told him of her relationship with Peeta, could see how much they cared for each other.

Her heart ached for them, all of them, but as Haymitch approached she reminded herself to stay strong. For them, if not for herself. "Well, I didn't think you would pull it off, but you did. So, I say congratulations and I raise my drink to you." And he did, taking a long swig from the flask attached to his belt by a long silver chain before sealing it shut once more.

Effie tittered disapprovingly, taking Katniss by the arm and leading her towards the elevators. "Come, come dear, and ignore Haymitch's nonsense. We must head upstairs to watch Flint's interview from the penthouse. It's so dank down here and it reeks of liquor." She stared pointedly at Haymitch, who belched noisily in response. Katniss's nose wrinkled and Effie cried out haughtily as she whisked them both away with the prep team in tow.

In their compartment Katniss watched her district partner, Flint, on the screen with little interest. He was sixteen, and had received a four in training, but kept to himself which suited her just fine. If only she had known.

Fourteen days, thirteen hours, and thirty seven minutes into the games. There were only two competitors left, and Katniss stared Flint down- grey on grey. His fingers twisted nervously on the handle of his sword, and though she would never admit it, hers spasm-ed slightly against her bow.

"So we meet again." He snarled, though Katniss said nothing in response. Instead, she took a step forward. His instincts kicked in almost immediately, and he stepped back. For hours Katniss kept her bow raised and her mouth shut, going against nearly every fiber of her being.

He never charged her though, oblivious as she slowly inched him backwards. Too frightened to make the first move, not when he'd seen her shoot, he could do nothing but wait for her. The arrow was pointed at his head, yet he couldn't understand why she didn't shoot.

Maybe she knew, he thought, knew that he would deflect her last arrow as easily as he had all the other ones. And he was right. Katniss knew he would knock her last defense out of the way, which would leave her unarmed and at the mercy of his large steel sword.

But she had a plan, and he was almost there. A large pond lay behind them- but this was no ordinary pond. Many had fallen subject to it during the past two weeks, and she had calmly observed it all from her tree camp not too far away. It had no gradual drop off and no bottom in sight. The water was ice cold, bone freezing. If you couldn't swim, then you would be dead within the minute. And no one from District Twelve, who had never left the confines of the district, could swim.

Just one more step. Katniss took one last step forward, and Flint unthinkingly jumped a few paces back- straight into the paralyzing, deep, un-survivable water.

She dropped her bow as he fell, a scream barely leaving his lips, and sank deeper into the water. Running the edge she watched as he descended deeper still, until the blackness had swallowed him whole and the water seemed empty once more.

It seemed as though hours had passed, though it couldn't have been more than two or three minutes, before his cannon rang out. And suddenly, Claudius Templesmith's voice was everywhere, booming out over the vast arena so forcefully that she felt the need to shelter her ears, "Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you Katniss Everdeen of District Twelve- victor of the seventy-third Hunger Games!"

I did it for you, Peeta, she thought. And then she blacked out.