Why did we win the games?

That question has been on her mind ever since she heard the booming voice of Caesar Flickerman yell out that resounding stop just before they got the berries in their mouths in the arena. She does think of a whole lot, and this was certainly a big part of those thoughts.

She had seen how the previous games went; brutal; bloody murder, poisonous plants here and there, twice as many muttations as their games. Crane had been head gamemaker for three years, and for the first two he had shown no mercy at all, even when a pair of cousins had been chosen as tributes.

So why was it, that they were so special? Haymitch? Possibly so, but simply talking to sponsors certainly wouldn't guarantee two tributes, right? Whaat was it; that one thing that made Seneca Crane take pity, even defy the capitol for them? What did they do?

She had been asking herself that question as well. It wasn't until that one night of the Victory Tour they had spent in the capitol that she would find out.

It was11 PM, almost past that blasted curfew the Peacekeepers had granted them; but Katniss Everdeen was not known for following rules, rather for... bending them, if I may. She couldn't sleep, and during this point in time she still hadn't asked him to sleep in her room, so to her, the only other logical things to do was take a walk.

They were staying in the same quarters they were during training before the games, so she had an idea of where to go. She found herself stumbling towards the training centre. They had been there for less than a week before the games, but a few memories were stamped on her head about the place. She had spent time with Rue there, bonded with Peeta about knots and laughed as he missed targer after target with a bow.

Footsteps. She heard footsteps. Normally, one would panic and run. But once again, this was Katniss Everdeen; the girl on fire, and she wasn't exactly normal. The traced the footsteps to the booth where gamemakers and sponsors would watch as tributes showed their skills for the scores that would probably determine their life or death in the arena. There was someone there, a man. She walked towards it, like she would in the forest back at District 12 when she saw a deer or a wild boar... quietly, she reminded herself.

"Isn't it past your curfew, twelve?"

Crap. Act natural.

"I'm not one to follow the rules."

The man swivels his chair towards her. And she sees his face. It was Seneca Crane, the head gamemaker. She fixed her defense stance and he seemed to notice, and a shadow of a smirk could be seen on his face.

"Relax, twelve. The games are over. I'm not the one you should be watching out for."

She relaxes a bit.

"Sit down, it's rather lonely here. Have some tea and cookies; your baker made them."

He moves his hand toward a table and she sees a China tea set and a plate of sugar cookies, recognizing the dandelion frosting on them.

"Those are Peeta's."

"He had a bit of fun in the kitchen today."

They stare at each other in silence for a bit, and she realizes he's waiting for her to take a seat. Reluctantly, she does. And he pours her a cup as she goes for a cookie. It's awkward, but Crane seems to be a conversationalist. Despite the situation and their position, they manage to pick up a conversation, and in a few minutes she begins to feel comfortable around him. They manage to pick the games as their next topic, and she manages to slip him the question.

"Seneca, why did you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Why did you let us win? It surely wasn't Snow's idea. Why would you defy him just so we could both get out of the arena alive?"

He visibly seems reluctant about it.

"Well, I'm probably going to be dead in a few weeks, so why bother? Excuse me."

Dead in a few weeks. She knew what that meant. Snow was not happy about what he did, and what Snow wants, Snow gets. She doesn't bring it up, though. She understood what it meant to be pitied, and she hated that.

He stands up to turn on the television mounted on the wall, and punched some buttons on the remote. An overview of all the games flashed on. He pushed another button and it zoomed in to the 67th. Another button. It fast forwards to almost the end. A boy and a girl were standing on top of the Cornucopia, like they were in their games.

"Alan, please don't. We're friends right? it was always you, me and Seneca. Us against the world. Please don't do this."

He was mouthing along. He had probably seen this a thousand times, and it dawns on her that he knew these people, he was possibly even friends with them.

"I'm sorry Hayley. I'm so sorry." 'Alan' whispers to her before raising a spear.

The girl seems to understand. She was no longer putting up a fight, she accepted that she would die and would rather do so than be the one to kill her friend. Within a few seconds, a spear lands in the stomach and the cannon booms, signalling her death. Crane turns off the television after that.

"You get it now, twelve?"

She's confused a bit.

"Slightly. I understand, they were your friends, but what does that have to do with "Star-crossed lovers"?"

He's nearly in tears.

"The girl. We... we had something. She was going to win, I was sure. She was going to go home and we would be happy again. She was stronger than him. I know so, but she was too nice. She couldn't."

She understood. He liked her. She was killed.

"I know how it feels, losing someone you'd rather die than not be with. I wasn't going to let that happen again."

"...I'm so sorry."

She genuinely was. Before, she just saw him as a brutal capitol man who enjoyed watching children die. He wasn't.

"You're from a district, aren't you?"

"District four. I was a fisherman, like that Finnick person."

She couldn't say anything else. She just kept repeating I'm sorry.

"Don't be. There's another side to me letting the both of you win. I'm going to die. I'm going to see her soon!"

"I..."

She was about to say something else until two peacekeepers antered the training centre.

"IT"S PAST CURFEW!" one of them boomed.

"It's okay, I was talking to her."

She couldn't believe it, Seneca Crane was protecting her.

"...SHE STILL HAS TO GO BACK TO HER QUARTERS."

She was the one to speak out this time.

"Alright, I'm going. Calm down."

"Nice talk, Katniss. See you around."

He called her by her name this time, it didn't sound right. She knew there was a hint of a lie in his voice. They wouldn't see each other again.

Seneca Crane would be dead the next day; locked inside a room with nothing but a bowl of Nightlock. Unexpectedly... she felt sorry.