AN: Cleaning the hard drive means unearthing all kinds of old, partially finished, and even terribly written fics. So here's one! Let me know what you think!

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The cheers of the four adults in the room came in one loud roar, but Peeta could not bring himself to react. Katniss had received an 11. The terror that filled him caused his heart beat to speed up and his blood to rush into his ears. He couldn't hear the congratulations and joyous exclamations being directed to the girl sitting beside him, stunned but pleased to have done so well.

Peeta felt as if his whole world had just come crashing down. An 11. The highest score of this year's Tributes. It seemed loads better than his 8. That 11 will do little to intimidate the Careers, though. They had gotten 9s and 10s. That 11 will only fuel their sick desire to dominate in the Games. This score has put a huge target on Katniss' back. The thought of it actually made Peeta feel ill.

The sudden, sickening image of Katniss in a set of cross hairs sent Peeta jumping to his feet. He thought he may have been able to offer a weak, "Congratulations," before he slipped from the merriment. He quickly made his way to the restroom and fell to his knees, retching into the toilet.

He could actually see Cato tracking her in his mind's eye. He would taunt her and make her miserable before actually finishing it. Cato was definitely one to play with his food before he eats. The mere thought of all the terrible things Cato could do to Katniss sent Peeta towards the toilet again. His knuckles grew white with the pressure of his grip on the tank. He just couldn't seem to grasp any sort of control. It was as if the past days were finally coming into focus for Peeta. He was part of the sick game put on for the Capital's benefit with zero hope of escaping and it felt as though Katniss' fate had just been sealed tool.

It took several minutes for him to stop, but it was not for the lack of emotion coursing through him, simply a lack of food. With nothing left, Peeta leaned against the nearest wall, his knees were pulled up to his chin and he buried his face in them. His tears soaked into his pant legs as his breath continued to come in silent sobs. He knew he should be stronger. He should have accepted that the odds of this game would not be in his favor. But he had never actually thought they would be so against Katniss.

He briefly thought that he hoped he would die before her. He didn't think he could bear watching her die.

Several long minutes more and Peeta finally managed to gain some control of his breathing. He then heard a faint knocking on the door. He didn't have time to compose himself in any way before it began to open. Peeta furiously rubbed his face, trying to erase any traces of his tears. He couldn't let Katniss see him crying. But when he heard the clearing of a throat, Peeta saw that it wasn't Katniss that had come looking for him. It was Haymitch. Peeta looked up at him from the floor, unmoving, as Haymitch closed the door behind him. He moved further into the large bathroom and leaned against the sink counter.

"Why the long face?" Haymitch asked. "You got an 8. We can definitely work with that. You could still stand a chance at winning."

Peeta stared at Haymitch for a moment. Was his mentor actually trying to comfort him? This man was acting so unlike the cynical drunk he and Katniss had met only days before. The thought was brief. It lasted only as long as it took Peeta to stand. Leaning on the wall he had been curled against, he leveled Haymitch's shoulder with a fierce gaze, refusing to meet his eyes. "I don't have any interest in winning," he said.

Haymitch's face darkened instantly, "Then why am I bothering to train you? You just gonna waste my time? Why don't you save us the trouble and just blow yourself on the pedestal mines?" Haymitch's face was red with rage and he advanced a few steps toward Peeta.

Peeta's eyes snapped to Haymitch's and practically snarled. "I won't be winning because I refuse to let anything happen to Katniss. I am here to protect her. She has to win. I will be doing everything I can to make sure she makes it out of there," Peeta told him. Taking a few steps closer to the older man, Peeta's voice grew threatening. "And so will you," he told him.

Haymitch opened his mouth to respond, but Peeta shook his head. "No," he snapped, "Make sure she survives. She gets the sponsors and the parachutes. You're going to do your job for her. So sober up, get off your ass, and cut out this woe-is-me crap."

Haymitch just looked at the fierce 16 year old before him. "All this for the girl that you happened to come here with?" he asked, already suspecting the answer, but wanting clarification.

Peeta shook his head and stepped away. "I may have been picked in the Reaping, but I had planned to volunteer the moment I had heard Primrose Everdeen's name called. I wouldn't have let her come here without any sort of protection. I would have made sure Prim went home to her sister."

"And just why are the Everdeens so special to you?"

Peeta moved to look at his reflection in the mirror, he gave a self-deprecating laugh and looked at Haymitch's reflection. "I've been in love with Katniss since the day I met her on our first day of school over 10 years ago. I will do anything for her."

The wheels in Haymitch's head turned as he took in this new information. "Does she know?" he asked out of curiosity more than a need to know.

"She didn't know I existed," he said.

"We can work with this," Haymitch said.

Peeta glared at him. Didn't he understand that he had no interesting in playing the game?

"I mean for Katniss," Haymitch clarified, seeing Peeta's expression. "We can sell a star-crossed lovers story."

"This isn't just some story," Peeta growled.

"I know that," Haymitch replied, frustrated that Peeta didn't see his meaning. "You loving her makes her appealing to the audience. She becomes a girl in love in a terrible situation. They will eat that up. She'll be liked. She'll get sponsors."

Peeta nodded in understanding. "What do I have to do?" he asked.