Author's Note: This was written by me, Isabella aka Imaginisa, and my best friend, Keri aka IceFire. We stayed as true as possible to the original stories. The only thing that should be blatantly wrong is the year that Johanna Mason won her games. Hope you like it! It will be update as soon as possible.

Chapter 1: Night Tides

Josie – District Four

The Hunger Games destroy you piece by piece. There are no winners, only victors. No one goes home unscarred. And the rest of us try to ignore the scars. We go on with our lives and then a piece of us dies every time we see a neighbor – somebody's brother or sister or daughter or son - go get murdered for the entertainment of the Capitol.

God, how I hate the Capitol.

With their bright hair the color of coral and eyes too big or too small, like some sort of useless fish that you throw back into the ocean because it's too bony to be eaten.

Useless.

And they live for entertainment! Making gossip of every useless little thing. Blue is in, blue is out, ocean theme is attractive...blah, blah blah, blah, blah! I hate them. I hate what they did to my brother.

He doesn't complain. But he gets calls at midnight and I hear him cross the hall. He's careful trying not to not wake me. But I'm a light sleeper. And I hear his fake joy, hear him murmuring sweet nothings that drive those useless flies insane. That's all it is! I want to scream. Nothing! Nothing! Can't you see what you're doing to him?

Eventually, he broke. I suspect it was this breaking that drove Haymitch to drink and those tributes that rely on morphing to their drugs. But Finnick broke differently.

It was a several months after the 70th Hunger games when Annie moved in. She came because my brother loved her, and she loved him. If no one mentions the Hunger Games, she's pretty normal. She even smiles now. But if the games are mentioned she'll scream or cry and cry and cry. Once she tried to stab her father with a kitchen knife – she thought he was a career from District 1 or something. Yet Finnick loves her. I can tell, everyone can.

And tonight, as I hear him approach the phone, my stomach clenches with anger. How dare they, how dare they! When I know with all my heart that my older brother wishes to get engaged?
I hear that seductive voice, the tease, his false joy. I hear the phone hang up and I wait to hear his quiet footsteps on the stairs.

They never come.

I strain my ears - I can't hear anything. I get scared, and I slowly slip out of bed. My feet protest at the cold wooden floor of the living room and I shiver at the chill in the air that promises rain. I almost turn back to my warm bed, but I see him silhouetted by the moon. He's curled up with his knees against his chest and his back against the wall. His forehead is resting against knee and he's crying. I can see it in the way his body is shuddering. He's fighting it, trying to keep from crying out and triggering Annie's nightmares. He rocks slightly, like a frightened child. The tears glisten in the moonlight. I swallow hard.

I haven't seen him cry since he left, only fourteen, to win his games. I've heard him scream at night. But never cry. I was only ten the year he was a victor. And I haven't seen him cry since - not even when he arrived home on the train and ran to pull me into his arms as I, sobbing, tried to explain: mom and dad went fishing during a storm, they were behind on their quota for fish because they'd spent so much time watching TV. Their boat was lost. Their bodies were found in pieces.
Those games were my nightmare too. I'd almost lost everyone that year.

I walk over to him slowly, "Finnick?"
He looks up with a start, breathing hard, trying to stem the tears.
"H...hey lil'...sis." He tries to give me a smile but can't. Tears stream down his face as if his heart is breaking. And it might not be his heart but something is breaking, changing.

I sit down next to him and let him fall against my shoulder, the way I did the night he returned. Days of fear and sorrow had rushed out of me that night, our first night in Victor's Village. Now, his fears and agony pour out of him. I hug him and fight to keep my tears from falling. One of us has to be strong.

Eventually, his tears stop, his body becomes still. He hugs me close, playing with my hair the way he used to do when we were little.
"I can't do this anymore," he whispers.
"Do what?" I ask, my voice just as soft.
He shakes his head, "The Capitol."
I snuggle into his shoulder. I imagine what mom and dad would say if they knew what Finnick is doing to protect me.

"Then don't," I say.
Finnick pulled away, his sea-green eyes sad. "You know I have..."
"No, you don't," I take a deep breath, trying to keep my voice low. "I can't watch you kill yourself because of me. You love Annie - so go love her! You don't owe anything to the Capitol."
"Snow..."
"Gave you the option right?" I demanded. "Said you could stop someday…"

I remembered President Snow coming to the house - Finnick had been 16, I'd been 12. He'd taken Snow to the study and they'd spoken for a long time. When President Snow finally left, Finnick had collapsed in a chair, his face buried in his hands for a good twenty minutes. I'd been terrified and run to get Mags – the closest thing we had to parents. I mean, we had our Aunt and Uncle but they didn't understand Finnick anymore, no one did except for Mags and Annie. I tried, I really did but being a victor made you part of an exclusive club….

They hadn't told me what the visit meant until one year later. Now, at fifteen years old, I knew what it actually meant; Finnick was selling his body to the Capitol. Now Finnick had a shadow in his eyes that never left. It wasn't just the games...
Finnick runs his hands through his hair; "Well...yes, but..."
"What can he do to me?" I ask. "Anything public and you can make a scene. Stop doing this, he said it wouldn't be forever, true?"
"True," I can see hope in his eyes.
I hug him. "Don't destroy any chance of happiness over me, Finnick," I whisper in his ear. "I'd die."
"No," he says firmly, pulling me away. He tucks a strand of loose hair behind my ear, the way my dad used to do to me. "No, don't say that, Josie. I couldn't bear to lose my little sis." He swallows hard. "You, Annie, and Mags are all I've got."

We hug again, and he scoops me up as if I were still ten years old and puts me in my bed. Silently, he walks back to Annie and I listen to the night tides outside as I finally let my salt-tears soak the pillow.
My poor brother. And Annie. And Mags. I would hate to be in the Hunger Games.