|My second universe, third story of THG. If you've read my others, you might see some repeat story elements, but nothing carbon-copy. I have also taken the liberty of replacing some of the book/film victor tributes for the 75th Games and substituting my own characters. You'll see which ones. Title subject to change (because they're not my forte). Thanks for reading and please review!|

His immediate reaction after shutting himself in his room aboard the train bound for the Capitol was to scream and break something, which happened to be his bedside lamp. The glass sculpture that made up the base shattered and a Capitol attendant rushed in, offering assistance. He had cursed at the assistant to leave and then proceeded to run into his shower room and turn the nozzle to nearly scalding hot so that he could stand in the spray and try to shake some of the nerves off of him.

He had agreed to this, but it didn't make the reality of it any easier to deal with.

Katniss had asked him to take Peeta's place, Peeta had asked that he ensure Katniss was the victor yet again. Which of them did he keep his promise to? Both of them, but only if he went into the Games with Katniss. She would be going in, regardless of which of her fellow District 12 victors was with her, and so when Effie Trinket had announced Peeta Mellark as the District 12 tribute, he had volunteered in the boy's stead, pushing Peeta behind him when the latter tried to stop him from taking his place beside Katniss center-stage. The stern look he offered Peeta told the boy to keep his mouth shut and go along with the proceedings, even when the tributes were herded from the stage to the train station without receiving a chance to say their farewells (but in all honesty, only Katniss had anyone to wish her farewell. The only people who would put in their time to say goodbye to him were coming aboard the train with him anyway.).

And so Haymitch Abernathy would be going back into the Games as well, into his second Quarter Quell, exactly twenty-five years after President Snow had emptied his life of everything worth living for. Only now he had two people he desperately needed to protect, not solely because he felt a reluctant fatherly attachment to them, but because it was crucial that they survive—for after. But neither of them knew about that just yet.

Still, as pathetic and unrewarding of a life as Haymitch had led, it was a life, and even his capacity for self-loathing couldn't stamp out his will to live. Only, he had to give that up now, because it was imperative that Katniss become victor again. Peeta would win her sponsors and Haymitch would defend her from the other tributes to ensure that she came out of the arena alive. The idea was laughable; Haymitch would protect her. What was he? A drunkard, an unathletic, depressed, intoxicated, half-deranged, pessimistic, pathetic idiot who had spent the last six months coming awake from his nightmares screaming because of alcohol withdrawal. What use would he be to Katniss on the inside? He wasn't skilled with a weapon and hadn't had to wield one in a quarter of a century. He was older than most of the surviving victors (or at least the ones who could cause a problem for Katniss), and therefore slower, less agile.

He was useless.

But his knowledge wasn't. He knew every victor alive, knew their tactics and strategies for winning their past Games, knew to what ends they would go to survive, knew how deep their hatred for the Capitol ran, knew which ones could be trusted to see the plan though to the end and which ones he would have no choice but to eliminate, however possible.

Acquaintances, friends, survivors. People who would all have to die so that Katniss's flame could continue to flicker in a world that was desperately trying to put her out. How was he supposed to do that, sacrifice the lives of twenty-two others who had he known and even grown fond of in place of a young woman who he had known one year?

She's the main piece. Without her, the tributes will all die for nothing. She has to survive and you have to do your damndest to make that a reality.

Stepping out of the shower, Haymitch didn't bother to dry his hair, but changed out of his sopping clothes into comfortable attire provided just for him. A breathable tunic, a pair of pants with an elastic waistband which he intended to put to the test in gorging himself so that, once in the arena, he wouldn't lose what little muscle mass he had managed to acquire this past half year.

Out in the corridor, he saw that the dining cart was empty and headed that way, gazing upon the food laid out for him and suddenly losing his appetite. He pulled up a chair at the table and piled morsels onto his plate, trying to opt for protein and vitamins in place of delicacies and carbs. He had never been much of a meat lover, especially after being in the Games already, but chicken and turkey were the two types that he could stomach without being reminded of the blood and guts he had seen up close. Additionally, he drank several glasses of orange juice to compensate the pressure in his sinuses and the phlegm in his throat, both side-effects of going sober so that he could train properly. The next few days were going to be hell on his body if he didn't take proper precautions.

Picking moodily at his food, he didn't hear Katniss approach until she stood at his shoulder, just out of reach in case she startled him and caused him to go for the butter knife in front of him.

"What?" he asked.

"Do you want to watch the Reapings?" asked Katniss dully.

"Of course I don't want to," Haymitch snapped. "But I guess I have to now, don't I? If it'll help you know who to watch out for so I don't have to keep up a running commentary when we're in the arena…"

Katniss sat down cross-legged on the couch, pulling a pillow into her lap as she switched on the projector screen. Reaching for a bottle of liquor but deciding better of it, Haymitch occupied himself with a cup of coffee and joined her, sinking as low into the leather couch as his slouching body would allow. They heard Caesar Flickerman's voice-over announcing each district with enthusiasm before the district appeared on screen and the respecting escorts drew the names. With each district, Haymitch reluctantly spilled out every detail he knew, positive and negative, about the previous victors. His heart sank with every name, some because he knew he would never be able to draw their blood, others because it meant protecting Katniss against magnifying odds.

"That's Cashmere and Gloss from One. He's the elder, won the year before his sister and both of them have their favorite weapons with at least ten years more experience than you have. They prefer knives, but Gloss is deadly with a sword. Presumptuous, arrogant, just like all the tributes and victors from their district. I couldn't tell you if they're more or less lethal than Two, which happens to be Brutus and Enobaria. Lucky us."

"How so?" asked Katniss, scowling at the victors and two-time tributes of Two.

"Because they're so bloodthirsty, they might just finish off One for us. Oh, they'll form the Career pack, but Brutus likes to crush his victims to death or strangle them or snap their necks and Enobaria, as you can see by her fangs, would now sadistically prefer to tear out chunks of flesh from her opponent. That's how she did it before, but her teeth were normal back then. She's upgraded and I wouldn't want to be on the other end of those pearly whites. But Brutus will protect her until it comes down to the wire because they had a fling once upon a time. He'll feel just dedicated enough to see her through to nearly the end and then either euthanize her or let one of us do it so that he won't have to. She, on the other hand, probably doesn't give a shit about him. Lovely people, right?"

"Do you think all the previous victors will want to protect their district partners?" Katniss wondered.

That was an excellent question. Since only One, Two, and Four had more than four or five victors apiece, they were less likely to be dedicated to their district partners. But the other districts that supplied a grand total of less than five tributes would have friends facing off against friends, unlike most children who never even met their district partners before being thrown into the Games with them. The victors of each district formed friendships as a way of coping with the after-horrors of the Games and more likely than not, they would try to survive together until the end.

"Depends on who they are," Haymitch told Katniss to partially answer her. "Most victors form friendships with any other victors from their district out of necessity: to help in the long-run after they send dozens of kids to their deaths. It helps to know that someone else is suffering right alongside you and you start to share that grief."

"And you never had that," said Katniss carefully.

"Not from my district, no. My mentor, Glenn Bywater, died the year after I won, so I became the sole mentor as well as the last victor of Twelve. I've befriended a lot of the other district victors, though, so I'm warning you now that this is going to be a tough one for me. I'm not exactly bosom buddies with One and Two, but I know we're about to come up on some names that are going to put me between a rock and a hard place."

And he was right, starting immediately with Three's tributes, Beetee and Wiress.

"She went a little bit off the deep end in recent years, but she's sweet enough," said Haymitch, watching Wiress's wrinkled, middle-aged face and slightly vacant eyes. "She won her Games by making any enemies follow her through a maze of bombs that detonated if stepped on. Not exactly what you'd call a bloodless victory since she intended to kill them, but she never laid a finger on them in the process. Beetee, on the other hand, knows exactly what he's doing at all times. His mind works at a hundred miles an hour and he managed to simultaneously electrocute the six remaining tributes besides himself. They're both brilliant, but he's the more dangerous of the two. They're also good friends, so you can bet on them to stick together."

District 4 appeared and Haymitch pinched the bridge of his nose, praying that he hadn't just seen what he thought he saw. He opened one eye and sure enough, there was the face of old Mags Flanagan, Panem's eldest victor.

"Oh, God."

"What?"

"This is gonna sound really bad, but I hope someone else kills that woman because I sure as hell am not going to be able to. She's the most motherly, kindest, selfless person to ever go through the Games and there is no way in hell I can ever willingly kill her. She won because she knew how to fish while the rest of the tributes went hungry because the only food source available was the fish. She shared it with the few allies she made, but they got killed by the Careers and so she destroyed the food source and outlasted the Careers by starving them out. It was a long, drawn-out year of Games that went on for about a month, back when the system was still trial and error with what the audience did or didn't want to see. But she's like Wiress; she never touched another tribute with the intention to harm them. Her district partner this year, however, is Finnick Odair which just makes this so damn difficult because he's basically her adoptive son. He loves her as much as anyone could love another person and he'll die for her, not that she'd let him. She knows what she's getting herself into, but he doesn't. His weapon of choice is the trident and he's as good as any Career with it."

"Hopefully she dies quick and painlessly, maybe falling and breaking her neck or ingesting something poisonous," said Katniss wistfully.

"Don't get your hopes up—but I agree that that'd be the best way for her to go. Moving on, now, to District 5. Looks to be—oh, goddammit!"

"What now?"

"Those two," said Haymitch with rage, pointing at the screen where a sad-eyed man with mousy brown hair and a woman with large lips and golden hair were joining hands on stage. "They're married. Zelic and Amara Sylvan. They won back-to-back years and tied the knot after her Games and they've got a kid, for God's sake. What the hell is this?"

Haymitch stood up and knocked over the coffee table in frustration.

"They can't fucking do this! All of these people have connections to their partners: siblings, lovers, best friends, spouses—"

"Parent and child?" Katniss guessed.

"Don't flatter yourself."

"We're not going to get through this tape if you blow up after every announcement. I understand you're angry; I really do, but I need you to try and focus, tell me everything I need to know, and then I promise you that I'll let you destroy this entire cart. But I need the information first."

He knew this would be his reaction, but he had been hoping to control it to some extent after silently agreeing with himself to be better composed in front of Katniss. If she only saw him as a raging drunk, she'd have a hard time convincing people to ally themselves with her because everyone knew that she, Peeta, and Haymitch were now an inseparable team. She needed his strength right now, not his emotional ties to these people, and so with much effort, Haymitch sat back down, resting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands to his mouth in anticipation of the next two tributes.

"Okay, so Zelic and Amara are on my maybe list. They're not pushovers, but they're not sadistic or bloodthirsty. Both have their skills, though. Amara took the high ground in her Games and scoped out the enemy from above, throwing poisonous darts with deadly accuracy. Zelic's probably the softer of the two. His kill count was one, two if you overlook the technicality that when he pushed past another tribute to outrun a mutt, he accidentally knocked her right into an electric field. But he did mean to kill a Career from Four. His arena was an abandoned city, but he managed to get a vehicle working and mowed the last tribute down before the other guy could get off a round from a gun. Not exactly an expert in any one area, but he's wily and well-rounded."

The faces of the married couple faded as District 6 appeared.

Two gaunt faces followed, those of victors who, like Haymitch, had found a way to cope with the pain, but were suffering much more from it. They had turned to injections of morphling to dull the ache in their bodies and became addicted to it to the point where it became their main source of nourishment, causing their bodies to waste away. But in recent years, the male had started to regain a healthier outward appearance where the female had been officially charged as mentally unstable by Capitol doctors. Kilo's hair had mostly fallen out, but what remained was grey and closely shaved. His face was skeletal still, but a hint of life had come back to his otherwise sunken cheeks, and as thin as he was, he was also nimble, something Haymitch had observed from Kilo's Games when he managed to evade the much bigger Career pack by simply being too quick to catch as the Careers made grabs for him and he easily slipped away, returning to stab them with needles full of toxic liquids before retreating to await their demise. Demi, on the other hand, had suffered brain damage when an explosion triggered by her remaining two opponents sent her flying sky high. She landed on the back of her head and the Gamemakers had had to cut immediately to another scene as the hovercraft came in to administer first aid.

"Are they working as a team?"

"No, I don't think she even knows what's going on. She hasn't been able to speak for years now and she lives in an assisted living home for the mentally handicapped, but Snow's mercy doesn't extend to people who are already brain dead. She'll be lucky to make it off of her pedestal before someone puts her down. Kilo's not as quick as he once was, but the fight's not out of him yet."

After the announcement of the tributes from Seven, Haymitch actually let out a small sigh of relief.

"We might have reached the first indifferent partner pair because Johanna's never cared about a thing in her life except herself and Blight is socially inexperienced. She favors the axe and she can go berserk with it, which is what she did when the Careers came for her. An axe is one of the hardest weapons to wield, but she's grown up around lumber, so she knows how to do it. Blight won because he had the best immune system out of the five remaining tributes. The Gamemakers released a plague and he was the only one left standing, though they had to evacuate him quick and administer the cure. She hasn't really had much of a chance to mentor except for last year and he's reserved about it, so they don't talk much. So there's one team we don't have to worry about, just separately."

It was still difficult to see their faces, but Haymitch was more concerned about Johanna's vengeful streak than Blight's slightly nervous one.

"District 8. We've got Tyrek and Ramie."

"What do you think the chances of them helping us are? I mean, Eight had all those riots and—"

"And I'm gonna stop you right there, because the poor people in Eight started the riots, not the victors. Some victors remain a part of their community, but others become just as self-absorbed as the people from the Capitol, and I'm sad to say that since Eight is one of the poorest districts, Tyrek and Ramie climbed that ladder as quickly as they could to get out of there. They helped the Peacekeepers round up the rioters, for your information so no, we will not be allying ourselves with them. Tyrek is close to sixty now, maybe a little over, but he's still in great physical shape. He's built like Peeta and his strength helped out a lot in his Games. He likes axes too, but he wouldn't say no to a spear, so count on him to team up with the Careers. Ramie is—and I'm not entirely sorry to say this—a bit of a bitch. A floozy, very loose, very manipulative, and deadly. She seduced as many tributes as she could, both male and female, and then used a garrote to strangle them. I think her kill count was eight or nine."

Haymitch wrinkled his nose at the sight of Ramie on the screen. Even outside the arena, she still liked to get handsy with the other victors and he had made a mental note to not be too drunk around her to avoid a sexual lawsuit.

"Are they going to be a team, do you think?" asked Katniss, obviously sharing Haymitch's displeasure.

"Maybe. I'm pretty sure she tried out her charm on him, but whether or not he accepted it, I don't know, nor do I care. Either way, we don't want either of them with us."

Eight faded into Nine and Haymitch saw a pointed face belonging to a man with tight features, curly brown hair almost at shoulder length, and hard, but hopeless brown eyes as well as a woman with nearly raven hair, combed forward so that it hid most of her face including her equally defeated eyes, except hers were grey and frightened.

"From Nine it looks like it's gonna be Stele and Olathe—son of a bitch—"

"You promised," Katniss reminded him.

"I know, I know, but they're not making this easy on me."

She's going to be one of the first to go, for sure.

Olathe had won her Games in an arena of rocks, gravel, and quick-sand. Most of the deaths came about from one tribute leading another into a rock avalanche or a hidden patch of quick-sand, but those who managed to outwit the arena were forced together for the Feast which consisted of a single bottle of water. The arena had been bone-dry and all the containers had been drained by those lucky and strong enough to grab them at the start of the bloodbath. Desperate, Olathe ran for the water first when another tribute aimed for her and took out the tribute behind her instead. Then, with just the two of them left, the male tribute had pinned her, stolen the water, and started to force himself on her. Terrified, weak, and screaming for her mother, Olathe had flung gravel into the male tribute's face, rolled out from underneath him, and then proceeded to bash his head in with a rock in a state of panic.

Following her victory, she had gone through two years of mentoring when the male tribute from her own district had violated her the night of the live interviews. The next day, the male tribute was a survivor of the bloodbath, but secret cameras showed him dragging and then assaulting Olathe in his room and on Snow's own orders, the Gamemakers caused mutts to burst from under the swamp and pull the male tribute down into the murky depths of the bog as retribution. Still, Olathe never recovered, and Stele had taken it upon himself to be her bodyguard, escorting her everywhere and threatening anyone who came too close without permission. It was evident of how seriously he took his duty, how much he truly cared for her, when he volunteered for the only other male victor of Nine. He had to know that Olathe would succumb to a reversion as soon as the gong rang and that there would be no saving her, but he volunteered all the same, determined to escort his friend into the next life as well.

As Haymitch relayed this to Katniss, he saw tears spring into her eyes in sympathy for this woman.

"I want her," said Katniss. "I want her as an ally."

"You'll have to take that up with Stele because if you don't let him know beforehand, he'll try to kill you as soon as you step within ten feet of her."

"Why's he that dedicated to her?"

"Because his twin sister was reaped the same year as him and he couldn't protect her, so he's trying to compensate with Olathe," said Haymitch simply. "Nothing's more dangerous than someone determined to die for someone they love, so if it comes down to it and the four of us are last, he'll turn on you to protect her. He goes the route of the double sword and I've seen him cut a tribute clean in half with them, and that was when he was only fifteen."

"Then what if I don't want him as an ally, but I want her? Would she go along with it?"

"Not a chance. She's messed up in the head, but she also loves him and only trusts him, so why would she give up that protection to ally herself with you, knowing that you'd eventually have to kill her?"

"Okay, okay, it was just a question."

"Well, start asking better questions. Up next in Ten is August and Enid."

"The names sound similar."

"That's because it runs in the family. That's his niece, once removed. Ten doesn't have any other female victors, so no one could volunteer for her, and I'm guessing that's why August did volunteer, to protect her once he's in there. That's a dedicated family man, I'll give him that, but the same thing is going on with a lot of these teams; they're close, and one of them is dead-set on making sure the other survives."

"Except there aren't a lot of females stepping up to defend the males," Katniss observed, and Haymitch threw a pillow at her.

"Get off your high horse, why don't you? You don't know these people. Amara could have decided to live with her child, but she volunteered to go into the Games with her husband, knowing that their kid is gonna be taken care of when they die. She loves Zelic more than she loves living, so she took the place of the other female victor to be with him. And Mags just volunteered for another mentally unstable woman, Annie Cresta, because all of the victors from Four are like children to her, so she'd rather die than let one of them go in again. She's helpless, but she's gonna do whatever it takes to bring Finnick out alive. And even here, with Eleven, Crescere is maybe ten years younger than Mags and she just volunteered to go in with Farrow because her son and Farrow are best friends. All of these women are stepping up because they know they aren't going to win and aren't delusional enough to hope for it, but they're going in anyway just to be with their loved ones."

He was tiring of Katniss's attitude in thinking that because Snow had targeted her for these Games, she was the only one with something to lose, and was therefore more entitled to grieve or be furious than anyone else. Twenty-two other people were about to have their lives destroyed because Snow wanted her dead, and all she could do was complain.

"You ought to show a little respect and appreciation to these people who have the choice to live, but are opting to die."

"Like you, you mean?" she challenged.

"Oh, I'm gonna die, sweetheart, but not for you."

I'm going to die because of you, and because I have to, for something bigger than all of us.