A fire crackles in the hearth. At a table beside it, a man and a boy play chess. The man rests his chin in his hands, tapping a finger on his cheek in thought. The boy watches and waits, no sign of emotion on his face. A girl sits on a couch, reading a letter, with half a smile on her face and a yellow cat curled in her lap. She absently scratches behind the feline's ears. The rumbles of its contented purrs are the only sounds in the room other than those of the fire.

The man reaches out, shifts a piece on the board, then sits back to take a drink from a bottle. The boy studies the board for a few minutes before making his move. The man curses under his breath, and the girl looks up. "He beat you again, Haymitch?"

"Not yet, sweetheart."

Her lips tick at his gruff reply and she folds the letter. Places the cat on the floor with a final scratch, and walks over to the game.

"I'm going to get more stew. Either of you want some?"

The man grunts what sounds like a negative, but the boy looks up and smiles. "Sure," he makes to stand, but she places a hand on his chest.

"I wouldn't trust him not to cheat while you're gone."

With a laugh from the boy and an indignant snort from the man, she leaves the room.

A cannon sounds and the boy shoves the larger man's body away from him. What has he done? "Katniss!" He howls into the steamy air. What he had to do. There wasn't much choice. Or was there? "Katniss!" There's no answer this time. He's lost track of exactly where he is. Lighting storm or blood rain? He doesn't know, just keeps running towards the point her voice came from last. A current charges the air and blinding light splits the sky. A streamer of gold traces back up.

Then everything explodes.

He's thrown to the ground as dirt churns around him. What new horror is this? When the earth stops trembling, his ears are ringing. Two hands grab his shoulders roughly and haul him to his feet. These aren't her hands. He tries to fight them off, but more hands join the struggle. He sees a flash of white uniform before his arms are finally wrenched behind him and cuffed.

"Katniss!" He howls her name over and over again. "Where's Katniss?" He spits in their faces, but then something jabs into his arm and the jungle disappears in a shrinking vortex.

"Thank you," he says, taking the bowl of stew from her hands. A soft smile lifted to silvery eyes.

"You're welcome." She hesitates, then turns and sits back on the couch with her bowl. She studies the pair while she eats.

The boy slowly spoons stew into his mouth while the man sits holding a glass to his forehead and glaring at the chess board. Reaching out then jerking back. Once more and the boy grins. The man moves a rook, which is quickly lost then contemplates his next moves.

The girl finishes her stew before he moves again, gathers the bowls to put in the sink. By the time she returns, the man has lost his king and stands to stretch.

"See you tomorrow," he says as he tugs on a coat, grabs his drink before heading out the door.

"See you tomorrow," she replies.

"Think he'll make it two nights in a row?" the boy asks as he stands, too.

She shrugs. "It'd be the first time since we got back if he did." And they remain in awkward silence a moment before he clears his throat. "I should get going, too."

The girl shakes her head and bites her lip. "Stay. Stay here again tonight?" He holds his arms out and she dives into the hug.

"They left you," the boy was told. "They left you to die."

It wouldn't be the first time. He can still taste her kiss on his lips and hear her words. "I do. I need you." The kiss and the words don't really match with anything that's happened before. It had to be an act. Still, he trusts her. He thought he could trust her. After everything they'd been through. He has to trust her.

Him on the other hand…

"I shouldn't have trusted him. That's all," he answers the question.

When the cameras are off and the lights are dimmed. He's stripped of makeup and fine suits. Ordered into a pair of plain cotton pants and a shirt of the same dull tan color. Then led back to his cell. Three days since the arena. Three days and all they've done is fix and dress him up. Ask a few questions and blackmail him into preaching a ceasefire in a war he knows next to nothing about.

The door is shut and locked. A few minutes later, someone in the cell next to his starts screaming. He backs away from the wall in horror. Part of him thought it would come to this. Had been waiting since he'd woken in a prison cell.

But it's still a shock. He knows that voice. She was his ally. He trusted her too. At least a little bit. And look where they are now. He curls up on the cot and squeezes his eyes shut, wondering when it will be his turn.

He sits upright, torn from sleep by a mind struggling free. His hand reaches out and finds her hip. The boy's fingers squeeze in relief. She sits up beside him, wraps her arms around him and rests her head on his shoulder.

"Not real," she whispers. "Not Real."

After a moment to catch his breath, he places a hand over her arm to keep it in place and admits, "Sometimes they are."

"Should we talk about it?"

"In a minute," he tells her. And they sit in silence watching the moon through the bedroom window, soaking up one another's warmth.

In a closet somewhere deep underground, the girl rests on her haunches, rocking back and forth with a pearl clutched in her hand. Hours pass. Perhaps she sleeps. When she leaves, it is to face her demons at last.

"I can't believe you didn't rescue him."

"I know"

"Say it."

"I can't believe you let him out of your sight."

"I know."

There's not much time to reflect. No time to rebuild the trust. It will have to wait. Soon, she's whisked off to be spectacular. Fires rage in her heart around a hollow spot filled only by a tiny pearl and a thirst for justice.

There's a knock on the door, making the girl stop, her knife hovering over the vegetables she's chopping. The boy looks at her, a question and a spark of hope in his eyes. He walks to the door and she waits. Waits for the sound of the man greeting the boy.

"Dinner 'bout ready?"

"Yeah. Come on in to the kitchen." Footsteps sound in the hall.

"Bring the chess set, boy. I want a rematch."

She scowls at the man when he walks through the kitchen door, indicating his rumpled clothes.

"Thought I told you to take a bath, Haymitch."