The Cost of Survival

Hunger Games/Glee Crossover

Time Period: 72nd Games

Pairings: Brittana; Tike; Mike-Santana friendship; Tina-Brittany friendship

Important Note before we start: This starts out fairly light in the first couple of chapters, but it gradually progresses towards a darker and more painful mood. I'm talking death, depression, angst, a bit of torture, a bit of gore, that kind of thing. I'm not painting out the Capitol like it's a weird, fluffy place. The traumatizing things that go on in the Hunger Games are touched on and elaborated on in this story. That's why I had to crank it up to an M. Not because of any sex scenes because as of the way the story's going right now, sex is highly unlikely.

(But at its core, this is still about Santana and Brittany. Tina and Mike. The things they go through and the things they feel and the things they fight for.)

Self-Absorbed Author's Ramblings

This idea was born out of the time I played around with Adobe Premiere and came up with a Glee-Hunger Games trailer which you can find both on my youtube and my tumblr. (thestefidelly .tumblr, at the 'cost of survival' page) And the idea of it just stuck to me until I couldn't resist writing it. And so this was born. Heck, you can almost consider the video a trailer for this story, actually.

Now I know this probably isn't the best (I mean c'mon, 'Sweetest Thing by Black Shield' is GOLD) (and there's 'The Girl With the Ax by animatedbrowneyes' too), but I'm still pretty excited about it. There's like a lot of things I worked out for everyone's backstories here, and I'm going to gradually reveal the details little by little, and along the way Mike and Santana will also learn some new things, discover a couple of secrets. All that with the arena looming closer and closer.

Also, since it's just tired and overused to start during the reaping/moments before the reaping, I'm taking y'all straight to the train already. I mean c'mon, the summary/description of this fic already makes it obvious who the tributes are, there's no suspense or impact if I opened the story at the part where they hear their names.

Oh, and Johanna will be part of this, I tied her backstory to some of the glee characters here.

So without further useless yammering from me, go ahead and read on.

Chapter 1

Capitol Train. 72nd Hunger Games.

The pine trees sped away, going further and further into the distance, growing smaller and smaller, until they were merely green dots, and then nothing.

Home.

The soothing sight of green leaves, the rough texture of bark, the weight of an axe in experienced hands, the smell of the woods, the familiar faces… they were now being replaced by alien objects like the cold, metallic walls and the reflective surfaces of polished furniture. The new surroundings were unnerving.

And this was just the beginning.

Santana had her arms folded tightly across her chest as she sat on the cushioned seat by the window, watching her home vanish before her eyes. Everything that was familiar, everything that she felt some sort of love and happiness and attachment to was being left behind. Separated from her by who knew how many miles. Enough for point A and point B to seem like completely different, separate worlds.

Even if it was now stained and muddy, Santana was still wearing the old dress that once belonged to her mother, the dress she'd been forcing herself into for the past three Reapings. Now, she didn't have the heart to climb out of it because it would feel like finalizing this morning's events. It felt like the moment she removed this dress and changed into something from her quarters in the train, then that was it. There would be no turning back.

She couldn't accept it. Not yet.

She didn't want to think about how she was going to die in a matter of days. And millions of people would watch, cheer about it and celebrate. Even a significant number of that audience would gamble on the technicalities of it, the how's and the when's and the where's.

Well… technically Santana pretty much signed up for this and it was her choice.

But she still couldn't help feeling uncomfortable and uneasy about it, reluctant to face the coming days.

Oh, who was she kidding? She might as well be honest with herself. She wasn't just reluctant or uncomfortable or uneasy or even nervous. She was scared. Freaking scared out of her mind.

"Hey."

Santana tensed at the sound of the voice behind her, but relaxed slightly upon recognizing her fellow tribute. "Hey, Mike." Unlike her, he had taken advantage of the shower and wardrobe in his room. Mike's hair was still damp, sticking out at odd angles, while his clothes, a simple white shirt and dark pants, looked clean and new.

"You been here the whole time?"

Nodding, Santana returned her attention to the window. There wasn't much to see now. Just a vast, open landscape and a dark sky. Any image of pine trees and little houses were merely the result of her imagination painting for her a view she would rather be looking at than this foreign emptiness.

Without turning her head to see what Mike was doing, Santana could tell that he was also staring out the window, and probably thinking similar thoughts. Will I ever see my home again? Will they be okay without me? What are they doing right now? Are they okay?

The silence between them was something Santana managed to be thankful for. This was better than a bunch of useless, empty words about them being able to get through this because how could they talk like that? Even if District 7 did get a victor this year, it could only be one of them. Santana Lopez or Mike Chang. One or the other, but never both.

"Hello, you two!" They both turned to see their escort strutting over to them.

Automatically, Holly Holiday looked at Santana with apparent disapproval. "Sweet cheeks! Get over to your room, get a shower and put on something nice and new! Dinner's going to be served soon. Get moving!" In an attempt to give Santana a sense of urgency, Holly waved her hands around, shooing Santana down the corridor towards her room. At one point, Holly looked over her shoulder and said, "And good boy, Mike. You're looking hot!"

Santana rolled her eyes, "Make out with him, why don't you?"

"Maybe later." Holly gave Santana one last push, through the doorway to her room. "Oh, and there's ointment on the dresser. You're expected to put it on those nasty little cuts and bumps on your face."

"Why? Do I have to?" Santana asked, more out of an immature desire to be difficult than anything else. The dull ache that stayed with her after the reaping had escalated into throbbing pain now. It was easy enough to ignore while she was busy thinking about home and watching it fade away, but now it was impossible to forget about it.

"Because your stylists will have one hell of a time hiding those if we don't work on getting them all healed up as much as we can, as soon as we can." Holly answered, then repeated her shooing motion. "Now go wash the soil and sawdust out of you!"

"Sawdust's better than that powdery gunk on your face!" Santana retorted, just as Holly banged the door shut.

It was just a dress anyway, wasn't it? Santana tried to tell herself that as she took it off and then carefully draped it over a chair. Her mother's dress. What would she be thinking now? Was she watching over her daughter right at this moment? If… if Santana lost… would they see each other again after six years apart? Or was that even possible?

Just as she got the water running, Santana analyzed her reflection. There was a bruise about a thumb's width starting to color her left cheek, and another one just under her chin. On her lower lip was a cut, which made Santana notice that her lip was actually starting to look bigger and more pouty than usual. Then starting at her right eyebrow, crossing her forehead and stopping off-center of her hairline was a tangled mixture of scratch and bruise.

Yeah, she kind of did look like a mess.

Santana wondered just how skilled the stylists were going to have to be to make her attractive and presentable tomorrow. Back home, people who wound up with injuries like these usually needed at least a week with whatever medicine was at their disposal. If they even had any at all.

As she continued to observe her reflection, Santana remembered her necklace. Her token.

Moving with care, as if she was afraid of breaking it, Santana took hold of the pendant. It was a smooth blue stone, cool to the touch, hanging from a woven string around her neck. It was a bright shade of blue, like a clear, cloudless sky at midday.

Like her eyes.

Santana closed her hand over the stone. What was she doing, thinking about if she lost? That was not the right mentality to have. It was practically admitting defeat before the Hunger Games had even started, before even coming close to the arena. Santana Lopez does not admit defeat.

She had to get through this. Give her best shot, work at maximum capacity, full potential. She had to. Because she had to live through the Games… win the Games to be able to see those blue eyes again.

Capitol Train. Dining Cart. 72nd Hunger Games.

The dining cart had a table full of utensils Mike had never seen before. The unfamiliarity of it all deepened his homesickness. As he took the seat Holly pointed out to him and stared at the table helplessly, Mike wished Santana would get here already so he wouldn't be alone in feeling completely lost.

"The food's coming. Can you smell that?"

Mike could. He recognized some of the smells, of bread and meat and various fruits and vegetables. But it was different from the scents back home. Here, it was so much richer, mingling with other aromas he couldn't quite put a name to. They all automatically gave him the temptation to devour whatever it was the moment he could see it and touch it.

His stomach snarled loudly, making its impatience clear. Mike worried that Holly might have heard it. District 7 wasn't exactly as poor as… say District 11 or 12, but it wasn't a rich, abundant place either. Especially since the Peacekeepers got a whole lot harsher in recent years and affordable food got harder to come by.

Just then, Santana joined them, her still wet hair beginning to soak parts of her red blouse. The cuts and bruises on her face still looked pretty serious and her lower lip was swelling, but at least they were remarkably cleaner than they were before Holly pressured her to bathe. Santana took the seat next to Mike without saying a word.

Barely a heartbeat later, the food arrived. And the sight of it made Mike's eyes bulge out of their sockets. Or at least that's what it felt like while his mouth watered in an almost painful way. Roast beef, steak, ribs, all soaked in sauces that gave off a smell that could have almost made Mike faint. And besides that there was corn soup, various fruits, pastries and cheeses. And just when Mike thought that was all of it, a towering chocolate cake joined the mouthwatering show.

Mike cast a glance at Santana and saw that she was wearing neither a stoic mask nor a scowl, but wide-eyed amazement.

They only paused to watch Holly demonstrate which utensils to use for what before practically diving into dinner, piling their plates high. Mike was pretty sure he left several scratches on his plate and maybe even a crack with how excited he got with the food.

"Where are your mentors?" Holly asked about halfway through the meal. "I mean there's fashionably late and then there's just… annoyingly late."

"Don't get your panties in a knot, I'm here." On cue, Johanna Mason came into the dining compartment. She sat across Mike, and he could see the dark circles under her eyes and how sunken they were. Mike didn't stare at her for very long though, because Johanna glared when she noticed. But before Mike looked away, he thought he saw that her eyes had a slightly pink tint to them.

"Took you long enough." Santana muttered around a mouthful of rib.

Mike could tell Johanna heard it because she gave Santana a look that would have made Mike nervous if he had been the one receiving it. He paused in the middle of slurping up soup and hoped that it wouldn't escalate into conflict.

A few tense seconds came and went.

And then finally, Johanna thought better of getting into an argument with Santana and started eating.

"What about Judy?" Holly asked, craning her neck and trying to see if the remaining mentor would come in through the door at any moment.

"Probably drowning herself in your classy, fancy wine." Santana answered, and Mike couldn't help noticing how bitter and spiteful the tone was. He wasn't as close to Quinn as Santana was, but Mike could understand why Santana disliked Judy Fabray so much. He also kind of hated the woman for what happened to Quinn. No one should have had to go through that.

"I don't think she's that much of a heavy drinker." Holly said, clearly surprised by the implication of Santana's words.

"You'd be surprised." Santana said.

Holly seemed unsure of what to say to this and decided to return her attention to eating, which they all did without speaking anymore.

It was when they were starting on the chocolate cake that Judy Fabray finally arrived, with her hair and clothes looking prim and proper. The poise with which she approached the table was almost perfect, until she stumbled and took an abnormally long time to right herself and regain balance. Then her remaining steps to the seat next to Johanna were a lot less steady.

"I'm sorry, I… er… overslept. But at least there's still some food left for me!"

If Johanna's earlier glare would have made Mike nervous, the one Santana directed at Judy would have killed him on the spot.

Why did it have to be Judy Fabray? Why? Was it so hard to get someone else to be a mentor this year? Couldn't it have been Blight instead? Why Judy Fabray? Santana just barely managed not to say any of her outraged questions out loud, forcing chocolate cake into her mouth to keep herself busy. Meanwhile, Judy was completely oblivious. Probably way too wasted to notice anything.

When she felt too stuffed to put another crumb in her mouth, Santana leaned back against her chair and clenched her fists under the table. It was easy to avoid Judy when they were back home in District 7. She kept to herself in the Victor's Village, only showing up in the townsquare to buy alcohol before going back home and staying there. And Santana was usually in the forest working with the other loggers, imagining the tree she was cutting down was either a Peacekeeper or Quinn's bitch of a mother.

Did Quinn's mother even think about her at least half as often as Quinn's friends did?

Santana highly doubted that.

Practically a year had already gone by, but Santana still wasn't over it. Refused to get over it.

How could she, when the terror in Quinn's green eyes haunted Santana at night?

If she wasn't reliving moments when she witnessed death, Santana was being visited by images of that unforgettable evening when Quinn came to them for help.

By the time they were getting up and following Holly to a compartment where they would watch recaps of the reapings, Santana could no longer contain it. Her painfully full stomach only added to her agitation. "Judy Fabray as a mentor? Why her?" She said loudly to Mike, who reacted with a look of surprise and alarm. "We're doomed, Mike. She's gonna be wasted, hungover or passed out the whole time, so I doubt she'll be able to give us any useful adv-"

Before she could figure out what was happening or react to defensively, Santana found herself pinned against the wall with Johanna's arm pressing against her throat.

"Listen and listen well, you little toothpick." Santana was never one to deserve tall as a description, but it wasn't like Johanna was all that much taller. She tried struggling to free herself, but the pressure against her neck only increased. "Whether you like it or not, Judy and I are your mentors. And since you're so against her, I'll let Judy handle Mike while you get stuck with me."

"Perfect." Santana managed to gasp out, "I get to add that to the list of stuff I'm oh so thankful for." The sarcasm only made Johanna press harder, making it pretty difficult for Santana to breathe and she started to regret letting her mouth get out of control.

"Whether you fucking like it or not," Johanna moved her arm higher, against Santana's chin, raising it. "You're going to have to listen to us and obey us if you want to see your blond beauty again." She moved her face closer to Santana's, their noses less than an inch apart. Seeing the deadly gleam in Johanna's eyes, Santana wished she could look away, because it was the same look as when Johanna killed off her remaining opponents five years ago.

As much as Santana would hate to admit it out loud, she was terrified now.

"Understand?" Johanna practically growled the word out.

In contrast, Santana's voice was almost a squeak. "Yeah! I understand!"

Johanna let go and stalked off, leaving Santana panting and massaging her throat with shaky hands.

Mike looking at her with pity and maybe concern just frustrated and embarrassed Santana. "I'm fine!" She hissed, bottling her fear and walking away from him on unsteady legs. Just in time, Santana sat on one of the cushioned chairs nearest to the screen before her legs could completely give way. She didn't need Mike worrying about her. If anything, he should be worrying about himself. They couldn't afford to be friendly and care about each other anymore.

That's how Santana saw it anyway.

And with Johanna probably hating her right now, Santana needed to work really hard to prove that she wasn't weak and that she was actually worth putting effort into training and guiding. Everything Santana did from now on would have to be pretty damn impressive if she were to have any hope, any chance at getting out of this mess alive.

After telling herself to put more effort into behaving properly in front of her mentor, Santana noticed that Judy was gone. Probably off trying to wipe her memory clean of this evening. Mike and Holly, after awkwardly standing around, took the seats between Johanna and Santana.

The screens started up and began to play the clips.

It was the standard fare, District 2 had no shortage of eager volunteers while most of the other districts had either passive and stoic or tense and terrified. Azimio Adams, a huge, heavily-built boy with dark skin and a wide head, got the honor of representing District 2. He would be someone to watch out for. Another would be the large girl from 3, Lauren Zizes. The athletic-looking Sam Evans of 4. If he was anything like Finnick Odair, Santana would have to be very careful and alert if the guy ever got his hands on a trident.

And then there was the tall boy from District 5. The camera seemed to struggle to get decent close up shots of his face. The difficulty was made obvious by how easily they got shots of the much shorter girl. When the two tributes held hands and positioned themselves unusually close together, Santana narrowed her eyes suspiciously. If the two formed a tight bond, they had the potential to either be a deadly threat or easy pickings. It would depend on how they utilized their alliance and if they would welcome anyone else. Santana made sure to take note of their names: Rachel Berry and Finn Hudson.

The District 6 tributes also looked like they were cause for concern, the way they strutted forward and got their audience riled up with shouts promising victory. Santana caught the names Rick Nelson and Giselle.

Then the District 7 reaping started showing… and the memory of it came back to Santana.

District 7. 72nd Hunger Games. Reaping Day.

They were standing together, side by side, shoulder to shoulder, pinky linked with pinky.

And far away, safe in the crowd of those too young or too old to be tributes, was eleven-year-old Amy Pierce, watching her older sister and her friend line up to see if they were going to be slaughtered on television this year.

"Tina's got her name in twenty-five times, and yours is just eighteen." Santana whispered a bad attempt to reassure Brittany, whose hand was now trembling. "Your odds are okay." Santana's own odds weren't so bad either, at fifteen entries.

"That's supposed to help me feel better?" Brittany whispered back, "I don't want to see Tina get chosen anymore than I want to see a dead unicorn."

"Sorry…" Santana apologized, and meant it.

Brittany looked at Santana and nodded to show that it was okay. Then she went back to staring at Holly, who standing in front of the Justice Building and getting ready to pick out a name from the glass bowl. The District 7 escort looked like she couldn't be happier to be here. Sometimes, Santana wondered if she was high on some Capitol drug or just insane.

"But it will be okay, Britts. We made it this far without getting chosen, didn't we? Two more Reapings then we're done with this crap forever."

But as fate would have it, the universe chose to prove Santana wrong.

"Brittany Pierce."

And for a moment, Santana's body just shut off and refused to function. There was no air coming into her lungs and the messages her brain sent to her limbs never made it. The world around her was spinning. Or shaking. Or falling like a successfully chopped tree. Or crumbling and breaking apart.

She saw the fear in Brittany's wide eyes, felt the trembling of her hands as she let go of Santana's pinky and approached the Peacekeepers. Santana couldn't believe her eyes, couldn't process what she was seeing. This couldn't be happening.

Santana thought she heard Amy in the distance, calling her sister's name.

This couldn't happen.

Without thinking, Santana retrieved control of her body and barreled through all the other seventeen year old girls in her way. All her senses were focused on Brittany being led away by the uniformed Peacekeepers. The only thing on her mind was making sure, with everything she had, that this wasn't going to happen.

Screams were tearing themselves out of Santana's throat as she closed the distance between them and tackled the nearest Peacekeeper to the ground.

Someone grabbed a handful of her hair. She kicked at the nearest chest. Received a punch to the stomach. Clawed at a helmet. Felt a boot come into contact with her face. The butt of a gun to her chin.

It was a tangled, confusing mess of gloves and boots and Santana squirming and struggling with all her strength, until she eventually had the sense to start screaming, "I VOLUNTEER" at the top of her lungs.

The Peacekeepers had her half-conscious and pinned to the ground before anyone could even begin to make sense of her yells.

Then there was silence as everyone, from the Peacekeepers to the people of District 7, waited for someone to figure out what to do with her. Santana tried searching for Brittany, searching for those blue eyes that always gave her strength, because right now, she could feel it quickly leaving her as the adrenaline rush faded away.

But with Santana's limited view from the ground, Peacekeeper boots blocking almost everything from sight, she couldn't find any sign of that reassuring blue anywhere.

"Well… um… It seems we have a volunteer!" Holly recovered from the shock and waved Santana over as if she didn't have three Peacekeepers on top of her. "Come on over here, Sweet Cheeks!"

Capitol Train. 72nd Hunger Games.

After Santana's spectacle, Mike being chosen looked like an unbearably plain and boring scene. Santana watched the image of Mike join the onscreen Santana and Holly with quiet, controlled movements. And as she watched, Santana realized that being positioned between Mike and Holly only emphasized the trashed state of her face and dress. It also made her look pathetically short.

Would that affect her chances with sponsors?

The screening of District 7's reaping transitioned to 8's, and the broad shoulders and big hands of David Karofsky made him another name Santana took note of.

District 9 looked like they weren't a threat. Unless Jacob Israel could use his frizzy hair as a weapon, Santana so no reason to watch out for him. District 10 also didn't look like much, the skinny and baby-faced Rory Flanagan looked ready to faint in front of all the cameras.

Another pair to watch out for was District 11's two dark-skinned tributes, with their large, powerful frames, no doubt from the hard work out on the fields. Santana remembered the names Shane and Sheila.

And lastly, District 12 just looked like a pathetic joke. A small girl who looked to be fourteen, and a scrawny boy who probably couldn't see anything beyond his dreadlocks. Sunshine Corazon and Joe Hart had slim chances of making it past day one. Their mentor, Haymitch Abernathy, was even worse than Judy Fabray. (At least she had the decency to hide her alcoholism). Haymitch staggered around in front of the tributes before throwing up on their shoes. The cameras quickly cut away to the anthem.

The compartment was quiet after the end of the program. Holly took it upon herself to break that silence. "Well there you have it. This year's twenty four tributes. Looks like an interesting batch this year, don't you think?"

"We've got a lot of big guys this year." Johanna spoke when Santana and Mike didn't. There was a cranky edge to her voice, but judging from the way Johanna normally acted, it was difficult to tell if she was already over Santana's behavior, or still fuming about it. "They're the obvious ones to watch out for. When training starts, it would help if you could get to know them and try forming an alliance with them."

Santana kept her eyes on Johanna, and listened to the advice she was giving because it could mean the very difference between life and death once the Games began. "But if you can't get close to them then just deal with it and run as far away from them as possible. While they're busy with the initial bloodbath."

"And we should stay away from the Careers, right?" Mike asked.

"If you think you can impress them, ally with them. But if you can't, then, you should run away from them fast. Best to wait for them to get agitated and kill each other off, then once they least expect it, strike." Involuntarily, Santana shuddered, remembering how Johanna fooled everyone into disregarding her from the very beginning, and then turned on them and killed viciously.

After what she did during the reaping, it was too late for Santana to try the same technique.

"That's all I'll say for now." Johanna stood up, stretched and headed for the door, but paused. "And Santana, it's one thing to run into a fight without fear, and something else entirely when you run in unprepared, unarmed, outnumbered and with no chances of winning. Don't act so fucking brainless once you're in the arena."

The compartment door closed behind her.

The train was stopping over, probably for fuel, by the time Mike crawled into bed, mind occupied by the day's events. It felt like a lifetime ago when he snuck off to share bread with Tina several hours before dawn. It didn't seem like it was only this morning when he promised his father he'd help repair the broken chair after the reaping.

And now fate, destiny, odds, or whatever it was, had their way and made him eat his words.

The train started moving again, and it heightened Mike's homesickness. He hated it here. This wasn't where he was supposed to be. At this time, he was meant to be in his own bed, resting after spending the day working at the logging site with his father, or after repairing that damn chair.

And his bed didn't rock and move around like this. It was on solid ground. The floor was reliable. Firm and unmoving.

It wasn't a train.

And after this, things would be even more different. They'd be in the capitol, with its shiny buildings and bright lights and bizarrely colorful people. There would be metal everywhere, towering over everything. There would be no trees above, no grass below, no scent of pine in the air.

Would he even get to see home again? Honestly, what were his chances?

Mike had never killed anyone. Hell, he rarely ever got into fights. The one time he had to go fist to fist with someone was about two years ago, when he stood up to Puck's father.

It was something Mike paid a heavy price for. Besides the black eye and broken nose from Mr. Puckerman, he got several broken ribs and a collection of cuts and bruises from the Peacekeepers as punishment. The months after that were a hellish haze of pain and guilt because his father was off working double time, covering Mike's shift to keep them from getting set back by a smaller family income.

And he felt uncomfortable enough whenever he had to watch the Games and see people—teenagers and children—killing each other. It was worse when he actually witnessed real deaths. There were several already that were used by the Peacekeepers to set examples and scare off any temptation to commit crimes.

Mike had yet to get over what they did to Mr. Lopez three years ago.

In an attempt to push away the memories of the event, Mike toyed with his token- a wooden figurine, carved into the shape of a prancing deer. It was as long as his index finger, but small enough to fit within his hands.

Taking in the feel of the wood, the texture of it, Mike thought of how he had to fight hard if he wanted to get back home and be among trees again. He would have to rid himself of all his squeamishness. He would have to kill to be able to see his parents and Tina again.

And Santana?

She deserved to go back to District 7 and the people cared about. Admittedly, she wasn't always the easiest person to get along with, and her tone usually sounded like she was looking for a fight even if she wasn't. But Mike knew she was the kind of person who would risk her life to protect those she loves.

This morning's reaping was solid proof of that.

If there would come a moment when Mike had to kill someone like her, could he?

District 7. 72nd Hunger Games.

The dim glow of the candles wasn't enough to light up the house. The dull heat they gave off wasn't enough to warm the area, either. But probably, even if a million candles filled every room from wall to wall, Brittany would still feel trapped in the dark, and colder than winter.

Santana's screams seemed to constantly echo throughout the house. Somehow, they ironically made the silence even more noticeable. And unbearable. Without Santana's snark and sarcasm, this was just an empty, soundless building with no life, light or warmth.

The sight of the bruises and the blood on Santana's face wouldn't leave Brittany either.

And she had a feeling that Amy felt the same way.

Brittany could feel the sorrow and fear coming off of Amy in waves. It was one of the reasons why Brittany was currently staying away from the beds. She was having a hard enough time keeping herself together, she couldn't go in there and break down in front of Amy and make her feel worse.

Thoughts of Amy somehow twisted themselves into a situation where Amy's name would be chosen. She was eleven now. Next year, her name would go in once. The year after that, twice. And so on.

And by then, Brittany wouldn't be able to do anything if her sister was chosen. Too old to volunteer by that time, Brittany would only be able to watch helplessly as Peacekeepers take away the last important loved one in her life.

Her parents were taken away. Santana was taken away. It was just Amy now.

Brittany wished Santana would win. Win and come home. But Brittany also knew it meant that Mike should lose. And the thought of seeing the devastation and grief of his family, and Tina and her family too because they were so close… it was a horrible thought. Brittany and Amy had been there, and she simply couldn't wish or hope for that kind of pain to torment anyone.

An interruption from all the negative thoughts and scenarios Brittany kept imagining came in the form of a knock on the door.

At the sound, Brittany tensed, remembering all too well what happened when there was a knock on her door in the middle of the night eight years ago.

It scared her, but she had to answer it.

Gathering her nerve, Brittany stood up and prepared herself for the worst. Maybe they were still mad about Santana's violent reaction during the reaping and they were going to take it out on Brittany. To comfort herself, Brittany told herself that it was better that she face consequences than if it were Amy.

Brittany opened the door and was relieved to see not a uniformed officer, but Tina.

Instead of a relaxing hello, Tina rushed in and shut the door before Brittany could react. "Hey, Brittany. I thought I'd visit."

"A bit late for a visit, don't you think?"

Tina lifted a corner of the curtain and took a quick peek out the window before focusing on Brittany. "Yeah, probably. But I thought you'd like some company after…" Tina couldn't finish the sentence. Brittany doubted she would have been able to, too.

"Thanks." Brittany managed to smile and appreciate the gesture. Since Quinn and Puck left, their group just wasn't the same.

When her younger brother, Glenn, was born, Tina was already starting to grow distant. And it increased when second brother, little Vinnie, was born last year, a little after Quinn and Puck left. So seeing her now, putting in effort to revive their bond, it was something Brittany found kind of comforting.

Tina smiled back, but only briefly. Then they stood before each other in silence, letting several long seconds pass by. Brittany wasn't sure what to say, completely lost for the right words. What could she say, really? She wanted to comfort Tina about Mike, but didn't know how. Whichever way they looked at it, someone was going to get hurt.

"How's Amy handling it?" Tina finally spoke up.

"She was really upset." Brittany said. "Santana was supposed to take her out to pick some flowers after the Reaping and before heading off to take her shift." And Santana was also supposed to be here tonight. Sleeping in this house. This house where they stayed together. Where they kept each other safe since they didn't have anyone else left anymore. "I think Amy's asleep now."

"At least you're still here to take care of her."

"That's what Santana said." It was one of the things Santana told her during the all too brief time they had together before Peacekeepers separated them.

"Mike had something similar to say to me." Tina spoke quietly, with a voice so soft, Brittany wouldn't have heard it if the house wasn't so deathly silent. "He said that I could at least be thankful that I was still here to help my parents with my siblings. And his parents would be okay taking care of each other." It almost sounded like Mike was indirectly saying that it was okay if he never came back.

Knowing that if Tina was anywhere near as distressed by the reaping as Brittany was, she wouldn't be able to stay standing for very long. Brittany took her by the hand and led her to one of the three rickety chairs in the part of the house where they usually sat to eat. They used to have a table, until Santana sold it to pay for medicine when Amy had a bad cough a couple of winters ago. They'd just started saving enough to buy a new one and were probably going to get it this year.

They still could… if Santana made it. And Brittany selfishly wished Santana would make it.

"Tina, what about the curfew?"

"Can I stay here for tonight?" Tina asked, and then as if feeling ashamed of the request, she looked down at her lap. "I'm sorry, I just… needed to get away from my house. It felt too full and I felt like I needed space to breathe. And then I thought of… of you." Taking her eyes off her lap, Tina looked at Brittany, "But if you'd rather I left, I can go now and sneak back home."

"No." Brittany answered firmly, knowing all too well how the Peacekeepers dealt with those they considered lawbreakers. "Stay here for the night. It's fine."

"Thanks."

Another period of silence passed between them, much longer this time, with both of them probably filled by their own thoughts. Negative thoughts. Dark thoughts. Disturbing and distressing thoughts. Suffocating and constricting and nerve-wracking and heart-wrenching.

"Remember that time we went exploring in the woods for the first time?" Brittany couldn't handle the silence anymore, because her thoughts kept going to the different ways Santana could die.

Tina nodded, "That was when we found the lake." It was a bright, sunny day when they went on that trip together. Their first trip together, in fact.

Santana, Brittany, Tina, Mike, Puck and Quinn. They all knew each other from school, but didn't start spending much time together outside of school hours until that day, nine years and many, many long lifetimes ago. When everything was different. Nothing like now.

Most of them were about eight years old at the time. Except for Tina, who was seven, and Puck, who was nine. And being so young, they wouldn't have been allowed on such a trip. Most of them lied to their parents and said they'd play in the townsquare. Quinn wanted to join but her mother refused to let her outside that day. In the end, they went without her. At first it felt odd with one of their group missing, but eventually, they managed to have fun just the same.

In the trips, adventures and antics after that first one, they always did their best to get Quinn to come.

"I remember Puck pushed Mike into the lake."

The memories of that day came flooding back to Brittany and she found herself giggling. "And Mike panicked!" It was almost like seeing a cat reacting to being bathed.

"Really flailed his arms around and screamed like a girl." Tina, too, was starting to giggle. "Until he realized that the water was like just waist-deep."

Brittany could almost hear the high-pitched squeals of an eight-year-old Mike. "And Puck would never let him forget it."

"Oh! Remember that time we put mud all over that drunk guy's hand?" Reminiscing together was getting Tina excited. And Brittany realized that she was also feeling a lot more cheerful as they relived the happy memories. "What was his name?" Tina tapped her chin and tried to remember.

"I don't remember, but I do remember how Santana tickled his nose 'till he ended up wiping the mud all over his own face." Santana had the most gleeful expression on her face as she manipulated the long blades of grass over the man's nose like an expert.

"And the guy was so mad after!" Tina placed a hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter.

Nodding, Brittany also had to hold back her own laughter and remember that Amy was asleep in the next room. "He chased us all over the district, and he was like louder than a hundred dragons about it. The Peacekeepers had to intervene."

"First time I ever experienced being in the stocks." Tina said, still giggling.

Though at the time, most of them were terrified, looking back at it was kind of amusing. Puck and Brittany were the tallest, so they were comfortable enough, given the situation. Santana, Tina and Mike had to stand on overturned buckets to reach it. Quinn was lucky or unlucky, depending on how you looked at it. There weren't enough stocks, and since Quinn was a victor's daughter, she got sent home instead. Though Brittany doubted Quinn had it any easier than they did when she went to face her parents.

"Santana kept yelling at the Peacekeepers, didn't she?" Brittany recalled there being a lot of high-pitched shouting that day.

Confirming it, Tina nodded and said, "Yeah, she had like an endless string of insults for them. Santana got a punch and a gag because she just wouldn't shut up."

Santana, always such a stubborn fighter, and way too rebellious for her own good. "She had a lot to rant about once they let us out. We were talking 'till really late that night." There was something warming about looking back at how happy and carefree they were before Brittany lost her parents. And then when things started to get cheery again within their group, Santana suffered loss. After that it was Johanna Mason's reaping, and things were never the same when she got back. The Peacekeepers just got harsher and harsher every year, and it became a foreign, distant memory to see children playing in the streets.

"Mike was the opposite. He was really quiet," Tina lifted her legs and managed to plant her heels on the seat and wrap her arms around her knees. "He was always trying to talk us out of trouble, wasn't he?"

He was. Always trying to do the right thing and be the good guy, that was Mike. "He'd disapprove of all our magical plans but wind up joining in anyway." Brittany grinned at the idea while saying it, "We were really bad influences."

When Tina didn't reply for a while, Brittany noticed that she was starting to tear up. Immediately, Brittany tried to say something to cheer her up, but the only thing she could come up with was "Mike's tough. He'll find a way to survive."

Holding back the tears and managing a smile, Tina turned to Brittany and said, "Santana, too."

But it wasn't like Santana and Mike could both survive at the same time.

Tina and Brittany knew the painful truth, so neither of them needed to say it out loud.

Some Explanations from the Writer Who Yammmers Too Much

Now, it's the 72nd Games, with Johanna being 20. Santana and Mike are 17. (and if it matters to you, Katniss would be 14 at this time, busy taking care of Prim and her mom) I know there are a lot of sources that theorize that Johanna's games were either the 70th or 71st, but for the purpose of this story, I made it the 67th, and she was fifteen years old at that time.

Also, I have a list of the tributes (and some of the non-tribute members of the various districts) that I might post on my tumblr if anyone's interested in looking at it. Probably after the next chapter, where I give more in-depth scenes and introductions for the other tributes.

The distributions I made were based on their skills (like Sam being in District 4 because of his swimming; Lauren being in District 3 because she's in the AV club) and also I'd consider their appearances (Shane and Sheila the Skank from District 11) and then of course practicality when it comes to maintaining some bonds and friendships and interactions among the characters (like a huge chunk of them all coming from District 7)

I also plan to eventually upload a timeline, so it's clearer to see when what event happens. Particularly when I start putting in flashbacks to explain some of the stuff that have taken place prior to these games.