"You could knock" Haymitch growls from his spot at the table. An array of bottles clutters the surface, leaving only enough space for his head to hit the table in a drunken slumber.

"Never thought of that" I reply sarcastically, pulling a chair up next to him, sitting on it backwards with my arms folded over the back. "Where's your rule book?"

"For God's sake, can't a man be left alone for a minute in his own home? First Peeta now you…"

"Haymitch!" the urgency in my voice gets him to stop. "Your rule book. Where is it?"

"What the hell are you blabbering about?" He reaches for one of the bottles but I push it out of his arm's reach. This gets his eyes to lock on mine. "The Hunger Games rule book" I say clear as I can. "Every mentor gets one. Where is yours?"

He rises off his chair, eyes still locked on mine, and reaches over my arm for the bottle. "If you're here to see if they can call the Victors into the Games again then you're out of luck sweetheart. It's the Quell. They can do whatever they want."

"I want to volunteer."

Haymitch sobers up faster than I've ever seen anyone in the Seam before. Even Jody Burkat didn't sober up quite as quick when she heard her boy Grey had been killed in the mines. "You want to volunteer." He spits out the word like it's poison. "For who?"

"Katniss."

He chuckles. "The volunteer gets a volunteer. Quite a little circle she's got going for her."

I ignore his comments. "Can I do it? Is there anything, anything at all, that they could pull to stop me?"

"Ugh" he sighs and rests his elbows on the table, head in his hands. I give him a moment as he rubs his temples. "What exactly," he says without looking up from the table, "Is your thinking behind volunteering for a Hunger Games where half the tributes are Victors?"

"You and I both know we need her." His head lifts at the "we" that's meant for so many more than two people at a dining table. I lean closer. "If she goes in she's going to be the first target the careers choose. She won't make it out again and we're going to get nowhere without her."

"What are you suggesting?" Haymitch laces his fingers beneath his chin.

"They're going to pull Katniss' name. Those three slips might as well all say her name. For all we know they might. Then I volunteer." I gesture to myself. "They never said a civilian couldn't volunteer for a Victor. I go in. Then they draw again from the Victors. Katniss stays and..." He gets the picture.

I sit up straighter. "So is there any way they can stop me?"

Haymitch closes his eyes for a second and then shakes his head, rubbing his chin in the process. "I don't know."

"Well where's your rule book?"

"I burned it" he says with dark eyes.

I shoot up from my chair, grabbing two fistfuls of my hair. "You burned it? Why the hell would you do that?" I nearly shout before I remember I'm in the Victor's Village. There are cameras all over the place. "Haymitch…" The frustration shakes my voice.

"Sweetheart if you were in my position would you have done any different?"

"Well I wouldn't have burned it!" I groan and spin around once, trying to recollect myself. "Do you remember any of it? Any rule?"

"It wouldn't matter even if I did" he says, rocking his head. "It's the Quell. They tend to throw the rules out the window during them."

Pressing my fingers to my temples, I close my eyes. "I have to try anyway." I drop my hands. "I'm going to do it anyway."

He nods solemnly. "Before you go through with this, are you sure you can handle it? Do you at all think you are going to get out of the Games alive?"

"No."

Now he nods in approval. "What's the plan?" and he gestures open armed. "I suppose you want me in the arena with you?"

"I volunteer." I point to myself. Then I point to him. "I'd appreciate you keeping Peeta out of the arena so Katniss isn't pulling her hair out…"

"You think she wouldn't worry about me?"

"… I don't know how Peeta feels about you. I don't know what he'll do if your name is called. If he volunteers, there's nothing you can do. Just do everything in your power to keep him alive. That's what I'll do. But I doubt he will, sorry Haymitch. If I get Katniss out he's not going to leave her side. I'm going to try to take out as many of them as I can while I'm in there."

"Those are Victors, Briar…"

"I never said I could do it. But I'm going to try. Maybe I'll get lucky."

"It's the Hunger Games. There isn't a scrap of luck to go around." With that he takes a decisive gulp from his bottle.

"Then explain how we have two Victors for the 74th Hunger Games." He locks eyes with me and then takes another gulp. "Don't let them know. I don't want to give them any false hope. Keep trying to think of any ways they could refute me so I'm ready to fight."

"Briar," Haymitch calls right when I'm at the door. I pause in my step. "Happy birthday."

The chilly breeze hits me worse than usual from being in such a warm home. I wonder if the vacant houses are kept as warm or only the ones that are occupied. For a moment, I let my mind toy with the idea of emerging a Victor and getting to live in one of those warm houses. I'd take some more people in with me, whether the Peacekeepers allowed it or not. But I guess it doesn't really matter. With one Victor and one civilian as tribute from each district I don't stand a chance in hell. Maybe if it was just civilians and I was smart I could taste the beginnings of victory, but not with Victors as competitors.

As I'm leaving the village, I hear a door crack open and slam shut in the wind. It's either one of the Everdeens or Mellarks. I don't turn around to see who.

I should get back to Thread's house, or mansion I should say. Technically I'm due in the kitchens for another five hours. But what's the point now? In a week I'll be gone. I'm dead either way and I'd rather not waste one of my last days of freedom at work. I don't make enough for Uncle Tommy and Joel to notice a difference anyway.

I keep my head low passing through the Seam. There are more and more Peacekeepers now. The deeper I get into the slum, the more violent they seem to be. One of the Peacekeepers grabs an older man and tosses him to the ground. I run. The man struggles to stand in the mud coated with coal dust. I lock my hands under his arms and pull him up with a little difficulty. "Are you alright?"

His beard has dirt caked in it but I don't think all of it is from the fall. "What are they looking for?" I press as the Peacekeeper calls another into his house.

The man says nothing, only stares as his home is violated by two men in white. His eyes are mournful but he doesn't cry.

Something cold like metal touches my palm. I close my hand around whatever he's passed me, making no acknowledgement of it. Then I casually slip my hand into my coat pocket and let it drop.

I wait with the man and a few others who have gathered, his neighbors I think, until the Peacekeepers leave. They make no apology and don't seem to have taken anything. We don't dare glare but all our eyes are hard as rock. "Come on" a girl a few years older than me says. She takes the man by the arm and leads him up the steps and into his house. The rest of us disperse.

I feel sick to my stomach.

I keep walking past our home. I keep walking until I'm up against the fence that traps us here like animals. It's on now. I can hear the hum of the electricity running through it. We're really trapped now.

There are a lot of things I should do. I should start training for one thing. I should at least give myself a chance to survive. If I could make it till the first night I think that would be a success. And I should be saying goodbye, indirectly though. I'm pretty sure Uncle Tommy and Joel would support me, they're as much a part of the rebellion as I am, but I don't want to burden them with this. It's best to just say goodbye after I've volunteered and I'm going.

I put my hands in my pockets. That's when I feel the cool metal thing again. I pull it out and trace it with my thumb. It's a mockingjay pin like the one Katniss had. This one's missing the pin though so it's just a trinket. The little golden bird is dark with coal dust. I rub my thumb over it a few times, trying to make it shine. Most of it comes off but the eyes stay dark. I place it back in my pocket and give the fence one last look. This is home. This rusty, electrified, chain fence is home.