I claim no credit to anything you recognize from the Hunger Games, Catching Fire, and Mockingjay. All of that is due to the amazing Suzanne Collins.

A/N: In case this helps, Olympic archery events take place the first week of the Olympics. In Beijing that was from the first Friday (before the Opening Ceremonies) through the next Friday. The women's competitions start first and then finish first with the women's team finals taking place a few days before the women's individual finals on Thursday. This chapter starts on the Tuesday of the first week and ends on the Tuesday and Wednesday of the second week. Men's freestyle wrestling doesn't start until the second week of the Olympics. The Olympic Green is the park constructed for the Olympics that includes the Olympic Village and the archery field. The wrestling matches took place away from the Olympic Green at the China Agricultural University Gymnasium about a five to ten minute drive away. Water polo games occurred at the Ying Tung Natatorium, about a fifteen to twenty minute drive away.

Beijing 2008

Katniss

The arrow hits the target, and my heart sinks.

A 7. It's not good enough.

As my score registers amongst the other teams and spectators, cheers rise from the crowd and Glimmer Harkinson of Canada celebrates her victory with a fist pump to the sky.

I swallow hard and feel my coach rub my shoulder sympathetically. I exchange a glance with him, and he smiles sadly. Cinna knows how important this was to me.

And now I'm not even advancing to the semifinals.

Cinna gives me a gentle nudge, and I reach my hand out to my competitor. We shake hands briefly and then walk of the archery field. As we head down to the waiting rooms beneath the stands, I abruptly hand Cinna my bow before bolting out the back door.

I run flat out, weaving through bystanders, the filthy Beijing air stinging my lungs. I'm still a long way from the Olympic Village when I dart down an empty alley. I crouch against the wall, eyes streaming, trying to stem the awful choking sounds I make when I sob. But I'm left in peace, as most everyone around here is at the swimming events in the stadium a few hundred yards away. I cry bitterly for a few minutes until a nearby back door opens, and an athlete comes out, slinging his gym bag over his shoulder. I hastily wipe my eyes and turn my face away from him, hoping he'll leave me be. He doesn't.

"Hey," he says, concerned. "Are you alright?"

"Yes," I say irritably. "I'm fine." I toss my braid over my shoulder and wish that he would just go away.

Instead he crouches down next to me. "Did you just compete?" he asks, obviously noticing my uniform. I pull off my finger tab and clutch it in my hand, but I leave on my arm guard and chest guard.

"Yes," I say shortly.

"Archery?" he asks.

I roll my eyes. Anyone can see the bow and arrow logo on my archery polo shirt. "Yes," I say again.

"Ah," he says, as if this explains everything.

I narrow my eyes at him, but he doesn't elaborate. Why can't he just go away? Before I can stop myself, I huff out, "I lost. Won't medal."

"I'm really sorry," he says sincerely.

We don't say anything for a moment. He looks at the ground, and I stare at the finger tab in my hands.

"You've worked so hard, trained for years," he says slowly. "It's hard when - "

"No, you don't get it," I interrupt fiercely. "This isn't about me. I was supposed to medal for my sister. I promised I would bring home a medal for her. She - she has cancer, you see."

The crushing weight of my failure presses down on me again, and I squeeze my eyes shut, bringing my clenched hands to my face.

"I just thought it would help," I choke out from behind my hands. "Motivate her through chemotherapy. Give her something to-to be excited about. She's only sixteen." To my horror, I begin to sob again. Why am I telling him all this?

I feel his arm go around my shoulders, and I immediately push back, scooting away, blinking back tears.

"I'm sorry," he says, hands raised to show he won't do it again. "I'm sorry," he repeats.

I just nod.

"What's her name?" he asks gently.

I look over at him. His face is sad, brows drawn together with concern. He's dressed in an unmarked tracksuit, but he seems to be American. His ashy blond hair is damp as if he has just showered, and he's clean-shaven. His eyes are blue, and they're gazing intently at me.

"What?" I say, forgetting what he asked me.

"What's your sister's name?" he asks again, kindly.

"Prim. Primrose," I sigh. Just saying Prim's name causes more tears to leak out of my eyes. I rub them away with frustration.

He unzips his gym bag, pulls out a gym towel, and hands it to me.

"It's clean," he says softly. "Used a different towel at training earlier."

I grimace, but accept the towel, and gratefully mop my face with it. It's nice, this towel, soft and surprisingly fluffy.

"What's your name?" he asks quietly.

"Katniss." I stare at the ground.

"I'm Peeta," he says. He begins to proffer his hand for a handshake, but then pulls back, probably remembering earlier when I pushed him away.

"I better go," I say hurriedly. I stand and brush off my khakis.

He's startled, and I run off before he can follow.

It's not until I'm at the door of my building in the Olympic Village that I notice I'm still holding the towel. I curse under my breath. He had been too kind and giving, and I realize that I never even thanked him. I owe him. I hold the towel up and see that a word is embroidered on the bottom.

Wrestling

"What are you doing here?"

Startled, I turn to see Gale sliding onto the seat beside me.

"Watching the wrestling matches," I answer with a shrug. "Why not?"

Gale looks out across the wrestling mats and the grappling wrestlers below.

"Think it's worth the cost of the tickets?" he asks skeptically.

"Sure, whatever," I say. "What else should I do with my time?"

"I don't know - gymnastics or diving might be more interesting. Besides, there's the parties at the Olympic Village."

When I don't respond, Gale asks, "Do you even know anything about wrestling?"

"No," I say, getting annoyed. "Do you?" I ask, turning to him.

He just smirks at me.

I focus my attention back on the mats.

Gale doesn't speak again for while. We're alike, even down to the grey eyes and dark hair, and we understand each other's silences. We have been bumping into each other for a several years now on the archery competition circuit. He is a couple years older and an excellent archer. I'm better, though, and he knows it. He's nearly as upset about my loss as I am.

"How's your family doing back home?" Gale breaks the silence.

"Hanging in there," I answer.

He nods.

Gale has aspirations for a dream USA archery team, but that certainly hasn't come to fruition for Beijing. None of us can compete against South Korea, and I am literally the only person on the U.S. women's archery team. No one else qualified. It was bad enough that I lost to Glimmer when I outrank her. I know Gale is already speculating about the next Olympics, but he's not admitting it. Not when he knows I'm still upset about Prim.

He runs a hand through his hair, and asks, "Heading back to college soon? You'll be a junior now?"

"Yes," I say and actually give him a smile.

His eyes soften and a smile breaks across his face.

"You've graduated now, haven't you?" I ask quickly, looking away.

"Yeah," he shrugs. "In May."

"Congratulations," I say quietly. "What's next?"

"Just focusing on archery as much as possible."

"Good," I say with a grin.

Gale grins back.

Sometime later, "Peeta Mellark, United States of America" is heard over the loudspeakers. I shift uncomfortably in my seat. I see Peeta make his way to the mat furthest on the right and crouch down to face his opponent. They clasp hands for a second and then begin to wrestle. They twist and turn and flop out of bounds. The ref calls them back and they start again.

Gale sighs and rises from his seat. "The cost of these tickets is ridiculous, but I'm ready to head out. Want to head back for the Olympic Green?"

"Nah," I shrug. "But don't let me stop you."

Gale shuffles his feet. "How much longer do you want to stay?" he asks.

"I don't know, just a little longer."

"Fine," he says with a small smile. "I'll wait."

I shrug again, and I can sense that it hurts Gale, but I don't say anything. I wish he wouldn't make things awkward between us. My only focus is Prim now. I don't have time or interest for a relationship.

"Ouch," says Gale, watching the mats below. I wince. Peeta's face was smashed into the mat, and his nose is now bleeding. "He's getting clobbered," Gale adds. Mercifully, the round ends, and Peeta has lost. He good-naturedly shakes his competitor's hand, smiling while trying to stem his bloody nose with a small cloth. I get up abruptly, suddenly wishing Gale had left for the Olympic Green.

"We're going now?" Gale asks, standing up.

"Almost," I say, and I quickly jog down the stadium stairs towards the wrestling mats. I'm sure Gale is confused, but I hear him follow me. I make it to the railing at the bottom of the stands that overlooks the mats, where an usher stops me and tells me to turn back.

"Katniss, what are you doing?" Gale asks from behind me.

I crane my neck around the usher and see Peeta and his coach heading off the mats toward the locker rooms. Before I can change my mind, I call out, "Peeta!"

Peeta looks over and sees me. He's surprised, but he moves toward me and looks up at the railing.

"It's okay," he tells the usher. "It's family." Now it's my turn to look surprised. Gale looks completely baffled.

"Family," Peeta repeats firmly, and the usher moves aside. I hadn't been able to see Peeta very well from up in the stands, but up close, it's hard not to notice Peeta's muscular body in his wrestling singlet. I realize that I feel embarrassed to look at him.

"I-I brought you back your towel," I stutter, pulling it out of my bag and dangling it over the railing.

Peeta waves his hand dismissively, but he's smiling. "It's yours, you didn't have to bring it back."

"Please," I urge. "It looks like you need it this time."

He smiles and reluctantly accepts it. "Thanks. I guess you saw…" his voice trails off as he gestures behind him.

"Yeah," I say hesitantly.

"Oh, well," he laughs, pressing the towel to his nose. "I've had worse. Thanks for coming."

"Thanks for... before," I say.

"Of course," he replies with a small smile. His eyes watch me attentively.

"Well, I guess we better go," I say, turning to Gale, who is staring testily at Peeta. Peeta seems to notice Gale for the first time, and he stands a little straighter.

"Well, bye," I add and start to walk away, leaving them both behind.

"Hey!" I hear Peeta call out. I turn around. "Want to meet up at water polo later?"

The men's water polo quarterfinals are underway when I see Peeta making his way toward Gale and I in the natatorium. His nose isn't bleeding anymore, and he's freshly showered and casually dressed. He smiles at me and eyes Gale momentarily, but so briefly I'm not even sure it happened. I feel Gale stiffen beside me, though.

"So," says Gale. "Water polo, huh?"

"The water polo team is just down the hall from me in the Olympic Village," Peeta says. "We've been hanging out the past week. Thought it would be good to support them."

I nod, and Gale asks, "What building in the Olympic Village?"

"D-12," Peeta answers.

"Us, too," Gale says. "We're both on the archery team."

"Cool," smiles Peeta. "We'll have to hang out."

The U.S. team suddenly scores, and we join the American fans in the applause.

"Yeah!" Peeta cheers.

"So where are you from?" I ask him when he sits back. "In the U.S., I mean."

"Washington, D.C. born and raised," he answers with a smile. "How about you?"

"Seattle," says Gale shortly.

"I'm not too far from D.C.," I reply. "I'm from Richmond. Well, just south of Richmond."

"That's great," says Peeta, still smiling. "My family has a bakery in Georgetown that's been in the family a couple generations. I grew up baking with them."

"Really?" I find myself laughing. "You don't seem like a baker."

"What should a baker seem like?" Peeta asks, pretending to be affronted.

"I don't know," I laugh. "We grew up doing archery, so I guess I just assumed you'd have grown up doing wrestling."

"Well, I did a lot of wrestling, too," says Peeta. "First with my brothers, and then more competitively. I'm the youngest, so I was always getting pommeled. I wanted to get back at them so I started learning wrestling, and it paid off, but it took awhile." He gives a laugh, and I find myself smiling at him.

"Yeah, my dad taught me how to shoot," I say. "He worked for U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service. We'd go deer hunting in this wildlife refuge only a few minutes away from our house. It's so quiet, no people at all. You're only allowed in the refuge with a permit or reservation. They have deer hunting in the fall, and we always got a permit."

Gale gives me a surprised glance. It's not like me to talk offer up personal details, and I clam up, my throat tight, thinking of deer hunting with my father. We would also dig for roots, pick berries, and bring home medicinal plants for my mother and Prim who are into homeopathic remedies. It was our special time together, just my dad and I. He would guide my hands to hold the bow and draw back the bowstring. His calm voice, his patience in stalking a deer, his silent tread all come rushing back to me, and I squeeze my eyes tight with the fear I might cry.

"You must really miss him," Gale says gently. He rubs my shoulder.

"Yeah," I say thickly. "Thanks."

Peeta's eyebrows are drawn together with concern, his face sad.

"My dad died of cancer when I was eleven," I explain to him with a sigh. "Brain cancer, like my sister has."

"I'm so sorry to hear that," says Peeta sorrowfully.

I nod. Silence descends on the three of us, and I turn my attention on the water polo match to distract myself from sad thoughts. There's a lot of splashing and tossing of the ball back and forth. Then - another goal, but it's Greece's point. The Americans in the crowd groan, but a small contingent of Greece fans near the front jump up and down waving a Greek flag. We watch as the U.S. water polo team redoubles its efforts.

Somehow, I end up on Peeta's floor in D-12 with Peeta, Gale, and the victorious U.S. men's water polo team, partying. Or rather, they are all partying, and I'm standing in the corner clutching a coke, and wondering what in the world persuaded me to come along. Peeta and Gale have seemed to become friends in the last few hours. They're laughing and talking to each other, drinks in hand. Loud music blares from speakers some water polo player has set up in the lounge. Water polo players are... everywhere. A loud shout goes out as a delegation of women's water polo players from Italy show up and dancing begins in earnest.

"Come on, Catnip," Gale teases loudly to be heard over the music. "Let your hair down." He tugs on the end of my braid. "Have a drink."

I reluctantly accept the drink he's holding out to me. Peeta says something to Gale that I can't catch with the loud music, but I hear Gale say back, "Yeah, she does."

"What?" I ask defensively.

"Always wear your hair in a braid," explains Gale.

"I do not," I say, but that's not really the truth. To prove it, though, I pull out my hairband and start to unravel my braid with my fingers.

"Good," says Gale appreciatively. "Now just take a sip…" He raises an eyebrow at my cup. Scowling at him, I take a small sip. "Good," he says again. "Just relax! Have a little fun. She would want you to have fun, Katniss."

I scowl at him, and he pulls on my loosened hair. I know he's right, though. Prim would want me to have fun. "Fine," I say with a huff.

Gale and Peeta crack identical grins.

The water polo players are getting pretty crazy, and the arrival of a group of swimmers, carrying cases of beer, leads to a resounding cheer. The music blasts, and the athletes laugh, dance, and drink. I join in as best as I can. One drink turns into two, then three. At some point, I'm standing on the coffee table coerced into singing karaoke.

You and me together,

Through the days and nights

I don't worry 'cause

Everything's going to be alright.

People keep talking

They can say what they like.

But all I know is

Everything's going to be alright.

No one, no one, no one

Can get in the way of what I feel for you

I sing, thinking I am definitely not drunk enough for this.

"Hey, you have a great voice." Peeta says coming up behind me when I've finished. His voice sounds casual, but I'm taken aback by the intensity in his eyes. My sarcastic thanks die on my lips, and I say thank you sincerely. To my horror, I find myself blushing. For some reason, I feel inordinately aware of Peeta. He seems larger and more present somehow. I watch his throat as he tilts his head back and swallows some more of his beer. Our eyes meet, and mine flit away nervously. It must be the drinks. It's not long after that I make some excuse and head back to my dorm room for the night, trying to clear my thoughts.

The next morning, I raise my hand to knock on Peeta's door when I notice a large sock on the door handle. I jerk my hand back like it's been burned. An array of conflicting emotions swirl through me - I'm upset that betrayal is one of them - but I settle on anger as I walk away. As I storm past the lounge that's littered with the remnants of last night's party, I hear soft snoring, and I turn to see Peeta sound asleep on the couch. I'm taken aback, but after a moment, I give an annoyed huff of relief. I even find myself smiling as I go over to him.

"Peeta, Peeta," I say softly. I gently shake his shoulder.

His lashes flutter open. "Huh? Oh, Katniss," he says, blearily. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm leaving for the airport," I say back. "I thought I'd say goodbye."

"Oh," he says. "Oh, you're leaving?" He sits up quickly and rubs his eyes.

"Yeah," I say. "I stayed a few extra days to see The Great Wall and so on. But I have to go home now."

"Oh, okay," he says. "Thanks for coming to say bye."

"Sorry I woke you up," I smile. "And thanks for being so nice to me. You know - last Thursday? I was pretty upset."

"Of course," he says earnestly. He puts his arm around my shoulders and this time I allow him to embrace me. He hugs me tight, my head nestled into the crook of his neck.

"We should meet up again," he says as he releases me. "I mean D.C. and Richmond? That's not far apart."

"Sure," I smile, and he beams.

We exchange phone numbers before he pulls me into his arms again.

"I'll miss you," he says, his voice near my ear.

"I'll miss you, too," I say automatically, but I realize that the words are genuine. I really will miss Peeta. Hopefully this isn't the last time we see each other.

I feel him kiss my cheek, once, then twice. I pull away to look at him, our faces close together. He looks slightly embarrassed but not apologetic. Almost before I realize what I'm doing, I lean in and softly kiss his lips. He kisses me back gently, and I feel a stirring in my chest. Warm and curious. The feeling builds as we kiss for a handful of moments. All too soon, Peeta pulls back. I straighten up, trying to clear my thoughts.

"I guess I better go," I say somewhat breathlessly. "I need to grab my luggage."

"Goodbye," he says quietly. His eyes have that intensity again.

"Goodbye," I whisper. I can still feel his lips on mine as I walk away.

I go downstairs to retrieve my luggage, and I find Gale waiting for me with a tense expression on his face. My stomach flips with a sudden, strange anxiety. "Do you have something with Peeta?" Gale cuts to the chase.

"No," I say immediately. My only focus is Prim, I remind myself. But I think of Peeta's kiss, and I start to feel confused. Gale can sense my confusion. He narrows his eyes at me. We don't say anything as I grab my roller suitcase and reach for my archery equipment duffel, but Gale picks it up for me. He walks with me to the elevator and rides down to the lobby, then waits with me for the shuttle. "Thanks," I say, but the tension is palpable. And awkward.

Then suddenly, as the shuttle pulls up, he takes my face in his hands and kisses me. You would think that after all the time I've spent with Gale - watching him talk and laugh and frown - that I would know all there was to know about him. But I hadn't imagined how thrilling his lips would feel pressed against my own. Then he lets go and says, "I had to do that. At least once."

And then he's gone.

I'm completely flustered and confused as I carry my luggage onto the shuttle. As the shuttle drives away, I sit and stare at the retreating Olympic Village, heavyhearted.

Two months later...

Tuscarora Archers Star FITA in Frederick, Maryland

A row of targets set along the edge of the forest take a battering of arrows. Autumn leaves litter the ground. Prim, warmly dressed in a pink coat with a knitted hat, claps happily at my score. The pink coat brings out the blue in her eyes and highlights the golden braid on her shoulder. Despite her hair thinning from chemotherapy, it can still make a nice braid. The cold brings out a rosiness to her cheeks, and I encourage her to sit down again for the millionth time that day. She waves me off, rolling her eyes. Over her shoulder, I notice Peeta walking towards us. I give him a wry smile and nudge Prim as he joins us.

"Wow," Prim says simply.

I shoot her a warning look. She ignores me.

"Nice to meet you, Peeta," she says extending her hand.

He smiles warmly and shakes her hand. "Nice to meet you, too, Prim."

When Prim heard that Peeta would be coming to my archery competition, she suddenly showed an interest in coming, too. It's hard for me to deny her anything, but her reaction is making me wish she had stayed home.

"So you're an Olympian wrestler?" Prim asks, eyes bright.

Peeta laughs. "Just barely," he says. "Katniss watched me get crushed in my first match. I was pretty much out of the competition as soon as I got there."

"I'm sure that's not the case," insists Prim. "Besides you're one of the best to even get to the Olympics."

"So-so," Peeta shrugs, selling himself short.

"He was the youngest on the team," I interrupt. "Only twenty."

Peeta gives me a look of surprise.

"What?" I say. "It's true."

"Wow," says Prim again.

Peeta and Prim chat nearby while I participate in the tournament. I try to focus, but it's hard as I eavesdrop. My hand freezes on the bowstring when I hear Peeta casually ask about Gale. Prim replies readily that Gale is not at this tournament - he's home in Seattle - but I can hear something else in her voice. I look over at her to see her give me a coy smile. I scowl back. Definitely should have left her at home. Later, she hisses in my ear, "You should totally go out with him, Katniss! Wear that green dress you never wear." I just shoot her another warning look as Peeta comes back from the concession stand with snacks in hand.

After I finish shooting, Peeta leads me away from the competition, maintaining a conversation in which I need only nod or offer one word responses, and soon we're alone at the edge of the archery range. He presses me gently against a tree. "I've missed you," he breathes as he leans in to kiss me.

His lips are eager, but I kiss him back mechanically, and he freezes.

"I'm sorry, Katniss," he says pulling back. "I just thought… Is it Gale?" he interrupts himself, trying to hide the look of hurt on his face.

"No," I say immediately, and I think how I said the same thing to Gale. I blush, feeling ashamed. "It's… Prim."

"Oh," he says. I feel him relax.

"I just, I just have trouble focusing on anyone but her," I stammer. "She needs me."

"I understand," he says gently, but I can see the tension in his jaw. "You're a wonderful sister to her." He smooths back a strand of hair and tucks it behind my ear. I feel myself relaxing into the gesture.

"I'm sorry," I mumble.

He heaves a sigh and squeezes my hand. "It's okay," he says. An awkward silence descends. "Well, I hope we'll hang out again soon," he adds. "This has been nice." He fingers the end of my braid before giving me a smile and turning to walk away. I grab his hand and pull him back, unable to let him go.

"I missed you, too," I say softly.

He pauses, then turns around, his hand still in mine.

"Stay with me," I manage to say.

He nods. "I'm here for you, Katniss," he says. "You must be under a lot of strain. I don't know how you do it."

By pushing people away, I think. But I can't manage to say those words. Peeta seems to understand, though.

"I'm here for you, Katniss," he repeats.

I look down at our feet and say, "Thanks." I glance up at him. A corner of his mouth quirks up.

We walk back to the archery tournament together, hand in hand, somewhere between friends and something more.