I started this fic before, but I didn't like the timeline. I kept coming up with important details that should have been shown during Training, so instead of starting from the beginning of the 74th Games, we're starting at the Reaping.

Usual rules apply, Suzanne Collins is awesome, and she owns Hunger Games. Arista is mine, and her story is mine.

Chapter 1

The sun made it's way up the sky as I sat on the back porch of my home in the Victor's Village of District Four sipping a cup of strong tea. I had gone to bed last night and tossed and turned for a couple of hours before giving up on sleep altogether. It was a bad night. Whenever I closed my eyes, I could see the ghosts of dead tributes before me, haunting me. The lives that I had taken, the lives that I had lost. I always thought it would get better over time, but fifteen years after my own battle in the Hunger Games, those images still haunted me.

"You're awake already?" my mother asked as she came through the back door. I looked up at her and smiled.

"I think it's more like I'm still awake," I said, taking her hand and squeezing it gently. She took a seat in the chair next to me and poured herself a cup from the pot on the table. Ever since I returned from the Games, my mother had made it her personal mission to help me readjust to my new life as a Victor. Unfortunately, I don't think I've adjusted as well as anyone had hoped.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked gently. I shrugged.

"Same old thing, really. Getting to the point where I'm almost asleep and then panicking because I'm sure someone will kill me in my sleep," I told her. She had heard this story before. In fact, it happened pretty much every night before the Reaping. I've been mentoring tributes from District Four for the past fifteen years, and I've only managed to bring one home alive. "How long do we have?" I asked.

"Your escorts will be here in about an hour," she said.

"Then I suppose I'd better go get ready for them," I answered. I kissed her gently on the cheek and padded to the bathroom. I turned on the shower and stood underneath the warm spray, hoping that it would remove some of my anxiety. It didn't. It never did. I scrubbed body completely. After about five years of being spoiled and pampered by stylists from the Capitol, they had finally decided that I knew how to present myself, and I no longer had to deal with them. At least, not here. When we got to the Capitol, that would all change. I thought about the young girls in our District. I didn't know many of them, by choice, so I couldn't speculate on who might be chosen to compete this year.

Finishing my shower, I dried off and selected a tailored skirt and blouse for today. I applied a small amount of make up, as I had been taught to do years ago, to accentuate my youth and best features. I wore my hair loose so that the long dark curls framed my face. My stylist would approve.

"Arista!" my mother called. Perfect timing.

"I'm coming!" I called back. I glided down the stairs as I had been taught to do. As a Victor, I was hailed as somewhat of a celebrity, which meant that I didn't rush anywhere. I took my time. It was a walk of confidence and importance.

"Ms. Waters," the Peacekeeper greeted me. "The car is waiting."

"Thank you," I said to him. I turned to my mother. "See you at the square?" I asked. She nodded.

"Of course, and we can have lunch before you leave," she answered. The Reapings were scattered throughout the day, so that the citizens of Panem could theoretically watch them all live, but that really only happened in the Capitol. In the other Districts, like ours, they had their own Reapings to attend, so inevitably, a couple would be missed. Ours was slated for 11:00am.

The Peacekeeper held open the back door of the car for me to slide in. He shut the door, and I had to take a minute to calm my breathing. The sound of the latch always made me panic a little. The first time I had ever been in a car was when I had been driven to the train station as a tribute. It reminded me of being sealed inside a coffin. I managed to regain control of my breathing by the time the Peacekeeper took his place in the driver's seat.

"This should be an interesting year, ma'am," he commented.

"Oh? What have you heard?" I asked.

"Rumors, mostly. Nothing concrete. May even get a couple of volunteers this year," he said, almost excitedly. Damn. I hate volunteers. That hadn't been popular in District Four until we went on a winning streak, producing three winners in a matter of ten years, beginning with me in the Fifty-Ninth Games. I always found volunteer tributes to be too cocky for their own good. They came in thinking they were the perfect killing machines with the perfect strategy, and I couldn't possibly have anything worthwhile to contribute to their victory plan. The difference between all of my volunteers and me is that I actually survived my Games. None of them did.

"It's a good day for the Reaping," the Peacekeeper said, trying to keep up the conversation. I looked outside. The sun was shining and a handful of white clouds dotted the sky. The breeze from the sea brought the perfect amount of coolness and tinged the air with the slight scent of salt.

"Yes, it is," I agreed, as if there could ever be perfect weather for sentencing two teenagers to death. Mercifully, we finished the rest of the trip in silence. As we pulled up to the Justice Building, I noticed a small crowd had already gathered. Fans. Hunger Games enthusiasts. People too old to be eligible for the Reaping. How easy it was to become jaded when the immediate threat of the Games no longer lurked over you or your loved ones. But, no matter what my personal feelings were, I was part of the show, too. The Peacekeepers in the square created a passageway from the door of my car to the stage. I stepped out of the car as soon the driver opened the door. Flashing my best smile, I stepped out of the car and paused to wave to the crowd. Cheers echoed off of the buildings in the square. The Peacekeeper offered me his arm, and I took it as I was led into the side door of the Justice Building.

"Arista!" greeted Chase Bobble, our Capitol liason. He approached me and kissed me quickly on each cheek. He had been assigned to District Four for as long as I could remember, and he was my escort during my Games. "How are you doing? Don't you just love Reaping Day?" Yeah, sure, Chase. I love picking which kids in my district are going to die soon. I forced a smile and nodded. I could blame him though. He was always an airhead.

"You're bringing home another victor this year, right, Arista?" came the voice of Tristan Poole, our mayor.

"That's the plan, Mayor," I answered.

"Good. That's what I like to hear," he said, shaking my hand. Outside, I heard the crowd erupt in another flourish of cheers. Someone else must be arriving. Sure enough, the legendary Finnick Odair stepped through the doors of the Justice Building. He won nine years ago, and the more time passed, the bigger his ego got. I didn't mind him, though. Then again, I knew a very different side to him, having lived next door to him for the past nine years. I waited until the officials were done greeting and fussing over him before I pulled him over to the snack table.

"Any thoughts going in?" I asked him. We had been mentoring together for the past eight years, and I could usually read him like a book. While we had talked general strategy throughout the year, it was hard to come up with anything specific too far in advance when there were so many variables. The tributes, their skills, their willingness to cooperate with us strategically, the arena itself…all of these were factors that would be revealed in time.

"I can tell you what the rumors are. There aren't any boys who are quite ready to compete yet, but there's a girl who's been itching for her chance in the arena," he informed me. Damn. That meant that my tribute was going to be the volunteer.

Finnick had an amazing ability to be able to detach emotionally from his tributes. He knew most of them from town, and he liked to socialize with other people in the District when he could. I was the exact opposite. I rarely left the Victor's Village except when required on days like today. I just didn't want to know the twelve to eighteen year olds in my district because I couldn't bear to watch someone I knew die. I already when through that. It hurts like hell. But Finnick, Finnick was amazing at it.

"I really wish they wouldn't volunteer," I told him.

"Yeah, but ever since someone negotiated District Four into the Career alliance, it's been popular," he said. I had negotiated that pact, and I did it to try to keep a twelve-year-old alive. It was an act of desperation that failed miserably. I had schmoozed the mentors of Districts One and Two until they agreed to talk to their tributes about taking Four in as part of their pack. And it had worked. My little twelve-year-old, Alina, had been a scavenger. She could find food like nobody's business, and when their own food stash had been destroyed by an avalanche the Gamemakers created, she proved her worth. When it came down to the final six, they had killed the boy tribute from Four and quickly turned on little Alina. Her face haunted me more frequently than the others.

"What can she do?" I asked.

"I think the easier question is what can't she do," Finnick replied. "Her survival skills are top notch; she can make a fire by rubbing two sticks together, and she's deadly with pretty much any sort of projectile weapon. She's been drilled on edible plants, and she can swim like a fish. She's a little on the slow side, so she won't fair well in a chase, but all in all, she's a good contender."

"But does she listen?" I asked him.

"That I don't know. And if she doesn't, well, her blood won't be on your hands," he said.

"You know it's not that simple," I told him. He leaned in an spoke softly to me.

"You've got to stop taking this so personally. It'll tear you up if you don't," he said.

"I know, and trust me, once I figure out how to do that, I will. I could certainly use the sleep," I said.

"Mr. Odair, Ms. Waters," a voice interrupted. I turned toward it and saw that it was another Peacekeeper. "It's time to take you to the stage."