This is how I think Catching Fire should have gone... reviews make Katniss happy :) if you don't review she will shoot you :3

KATNISS' P.O.V.

I sat in front of our shiny flatscreen TV, yawning. We were waiting for President Snow to make the announcement about the special twist for the third Quarter Quell. Every 25 years it was something nasty, another way to humiliate the districts.

"For the first Quarter Quell, to remind the districts that they brought the destruction of the Dark Days on themselves, the people voted on which tributes should compete," the president droned. I imagined pitting friend against friend, parent against parent, and shuddered.

"For the second Quarter Quell, to remind the districts that two of their children died for every Capitol child, twice the number of tributes were picked to compete." That was the year Haymitch won. An arena where you were against 48 tributes instead of 24. 24 had been more than enough for me.

A small boy dressed in a pure white uniform came up with a wooden box. President Snow took it from him, opened it, and drew put a white scroll. Opening it easily, he unfurled it and cleared his throat.

"For the third Quarter Quell, to remind the districts that even the strongest among them have weaknesses, only the relatives of the existing victors will be picked from."

My mother sobbed and hugged Prim tight as she began bawling in terror. I was still, feeling like someone had punched me in the gut with an icy fist. Only the relatives of the existing victors.

I had only one sister.

Prim.

I couldn't stand it, couldn't stand to look at her. I ran out of the house as fast as my legs would carry me, to Peeta's. It was the only place I could think of. Bursting in the door, I found him sitting on the couch next to Haymitch, jaw gaping open. Without preamble, I flung myself onto his lap, hugging him and sobbing hysterically.

He jumped a little in surprise, then tenderly put an arm around my shoulder. His two brothers were too old to enter, and Haymitch had no relatives left. Which meant Prim was a guaranteed tribute. As for who would be the boy tribute, I had no idea. Right now I didn't care.

I calmed down a little, sniffling and holding on to Peeta's shirt like it was a lifeline. Then I realized something even worse.

"I'm going to have to mentor her," I whispered hoarsely. "I have to mentor my thirteen-year-old sister in the Hunger Games." I burst into tears again.

Peeta just continued stroking my hair, at a loss for what to say.

o.O.o

As I straggled back into my house, I found my sister still weeping in my mother's arms. Wrapping mine around her as well, I buried my face in her mass of blond locks. "I won't let you die," I whispered hoarsely. "No matter what. You're staying right here."

Her sobbing gradually quieted and bright blue eyes stared up at me, determined. "Last time you promised you would win for me," she said softly. "This time I promise… I'll win for you."

"And I'll do whatever it takes to help you do it," I promise, gathering her into my arms again. Dreading the moment when I have to let go, as she steps onto the ladder of a hovercraft and is flown to living hell.

Also know as, the arena.

o.O.o

Effie was unusually emotional this year, sniffling as she scrabbled uselessly around in the girl's crystal ball, croaking "Ladies first" in a slightly broken tone. It takes her forever to locate the single slip of paper, and then she's tottering over to the microphone and reading out as clearly as she can, "Primrose Everdeen." For the second year in a row. Except this time, I don't volunteer. Can't volunteer. I would if I could – even if it meant going back to that hellhole – because anything would be preferable to watching my little sister die in the way I watched Rue die. Rue. Just her name brings back the worst memories of my Games.

Since I don't have any brothers, and Peetas' are too old to be eligible, the worst happened. The genius who decided Gale was my 'cousin' just damned Rory to the hellhole. Because Gale's other little brother is too young, and of course there can't be two girls. All the better for Posy.

Gale doesn't blame me – he knows it isn't my fault – but I've noticed him giving Peeta dagger glares for weeks since the announcement. Effie quickly snags the single slip within the boys crystal ball and reads, "Rory Hawthorne." Rory takes his place on the stage beside Prim, who glances at him helplessly. Smiling a clearly fake smile, Effie announces in her fake-cheery voice, "The tributes of District 12 – Rory Hawthorne and Primrose Everdeen!"

Then we're loaded onto a train and sent to our rooms. I give Prim's hand a reassuring squeeze – at least I'll there for her the whole time. And Peeta came this year in place of Haymitch, although our old drunken fellow victor was dragged along since this was our first year of mentoring and we clearly still needed teaching. Haymitch was probably far beyond coherence by this point, passed out in a pool of puke like he was our first night on the train last year. Typical Haymitch.

Although now, having won my own Games and been through the horrors he had, I could understand wanting to drown that in drink. I still have plenty of nightmares to add to my supply from before even going in the Games – now, along with the usual screaming at my father to run ones, I have more, about the mutts, Cato, Thresh, Foxface, and worst of all… Rue.

I would never forget that moment… bursting through the trees, spotting Rue on the ground.

"Katniss!"

Then that boy, more like monster, speared her in the stomach. And I shot him in the throat. I sang all of the lines of my song, Rue's final lullaby. And I cried as she died in my arms. Then… the flowers. I coated her in handfuls of bright wildflowers, around her face and her hair, hiding the wound. And I said goodbye forever.

As I wandered the train, I found my sister's room. She was curled up on her soft bed, dressed in a silky white nightgown. Slipping under the covers, I gathered her gently into my arms. Prim had cried herself to sleep, and was now breathing in a rhythmic lull that reminded me of the waves of the ocean at District Four, that I had seen briefly on the Victory Tour.

Hugging Prim tightly, I vowed I would never have to say goodbye forever again.

TADA! U like? *fiddles with sweatshirt* *eats more hershey's kisses* noms… well, turns out I'm gonna be using this for a school project! Wish me luck!

~DeaththeKidKat