Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games. I just like to have a little fun with SC's incredible characters.

This idea has been brewing in my head for a while and with the push from my fabulous tumblr gang, it's happening!

Thank you to sponsormusings for encouraging me to share my stories, even when I'm crazy nervous, and justmellarky/acciograce for being an very patient beta and allowing me to bounce ideas off of her. Without these two this story would have stayed in a Word document forever!

Rating is M because later things will get a bit wild. It's the 70's, what do you expect?!

Prologue

February, 1979

The beginning of "Start Me Up" plays on the old radio a few booths down. Normally any guitar riff played by Keith Richards would have a positive effect on my mood, but not today.

I glance at the old clock hanging across the room. 4:46. Haymitch is late. As usual.

I remember the first time we met at The Hob, an old and nearly out-of-business diner that smelled of stale cigars and burnt coffee. I was apprehensive about the job and borderline nervous. The anxiety I felt that day seems laughable compared to the knot in my stomach today.

It'll be okay Katniss. I can clearly hear Peeta's his voice in my head and I remember his sleepy grin this morning. I've lived with my name nearly 19 years but no one can say it quite like he can. Usually thinking of his voice, or thinking of him in general, puts my mind at ease but today is different. Today it only reminds me of what I could possibly lose if this doesn't go right.

I smell Haymitch before I actually see him: it's the now-familiar mix of Old Spice, scotch and tobacco. He slides into the red booth across from me, not quite as graceful as most people would expect a Capitol City Detective to be, but when I think about it, Haymitch is about as far from the normal detective as you can get.

Not that I should talk: I'm an under-twenty undercover civilian who is working with the police department to bring down the biggest organized crime family in our district. People aren't always what they seem.

"You wanted to meet, sweetheart?" Haymitch looks mildly annoyed but I'm far to too used to him to care.

"Tonight," I start, noticing my tone is strong and steady. I'm grateful because those are the last two things I actually feel. "If the plan goes south," Like I know it will, I think to myself. "You get him out of there. I don't care what covers are blown and I don't care the cost. Peeta lives."

We hold each other's gaze. I'm stubborn and he knows it, but Haymitch is looking at me differently than his usual irritation. He seems to be sizing me up.

"You're awfully low on my priority list to be making such high demands." His voice is lazy, but his slight smirk betrays him and I know that no matter what problems I gave him over the last six months, I earned his respect.

"Promise me, Haymitch." I lean forward and I don't break eye contact. "If shit hits the fan, you get him out of there."

"Can I ask you something?" He leans in closer to me , more focused than before. "Why protect him?"

His question momentarily stumps me, though a thousand answers run through my head. How could I even begin to explain to Haymitch what Peeta means to me? What he has done for me? His charm and easy- going nature is what draws most people in, but for me it's his unending kindness. He gives with his whole heart and expects nothing in return. Peeta is quite simply the best person I know.

"He was born into a life he never wanted." My voice takes on a pleading tone. "This could be his only way out, his only chance. He deserves that, Haymitch."

Haymitch lets out a long sigh and sits back into the booth.

"It's a good plan." He starts and I hold my tongue because I think it's a rotten plan but apparently no one wants to hear that. "But if things go wrong…I'll do everything I can to get him out of there." My shoulders deflate and my anxiety goes down one notch.

"Thank you Haymitch." Both of us are fairly uncomfortable atwith how emotional this is getting. It's much easier between Haymitch and I when we are discussing things like hidden microphones, money laundering and the dismal season of the Capitol Canaries baseball team. We sit in silence for a few minutes before he roughly clears his throat.

"Look, when you're in there tonight…" he stops to make sure I am paying full attention to him. "In there you are playing your part. But you've got to remember who the real enemy is."

I nod curtly even though I don't quite know what he means. The real enemy? The lines in my life between good and bad wereare so blurred already. Everything wasis just a game, no matter what side you wereare on. But the game ends ed tonight. After tonight, Peeta would will be free from the confines of his family name and I would will be free of my debt to the police department. Hope was is the only thing I couldcan hold on to now.

"Any last advice?" I ask, glancing at the clock on the wall again. I havehad to be going if I am was going to be ready in time. I look back to Haymitch. He looks like he wants to say something but then decides against it. Finally he answers.

"Stay alive." It's simple instructionsIt's a simple instruction but the weight it holds makesthey hold make me wonder if Haymitch is as apprehensive about this plan as I am. I nod again, slower this time, to let him know I understand both the advice and the things he can't say. I stand up and leave the booth, knowing if I turn around I'll ask too many questions and I don't have the luxury of time on my side. I make my way through the Hob and out the front door, tugging my jacket closer around my body.

It'll be okay Katniss. I hear his voice again, but even in my head Peeta sounds about as nervous as I am. I take a deep breath and try to focus.

Let the games begin.

The title of this story comes from an amazing Bruce Springsteen song, released in 1978.

Thank you for checking this story out! Chapter 1 will be up soon. Please take a moment and let me know your thoughts...and come hang out with me on tumblr. I am kaceywithak there too :)