CHAPTER 2. Summer.

Three months ago I was standing, along with most of the population of District 12, in the town square. Three large screens had been set up in front of the justice building. Once again, we were being forced to watch, helplessly, as our loved ones were paraded in front of the Capitol's elite.

This time was different, though. For the first time in Panem's history, the tributes on our screens weren't small, terrified children. Some of them were strong, determined, vicious looking adults.

The crowd stood still as the screens reflected chariot after chariot of well-known faces. There were the typical Career types, looking well-fed, strong and cold-blooded, clearly ready to go back into battle. There were others, who looked painfully damaged or weak, and some that were simply shocked. Going back to an arena had never been part of their plan.

As the last chariot came into view, the crowd held a collective breath. The tributes from District 12 were, once again, making a grand entrance. Just like the previous year, their costumes represented the district's trade but, where last year we had seen wild, untamed flames, this year we saw the warm, and steady glow of embers. Cinna had decided to show the world the kind of heat that refuses to die.

My heart started beating furiously as Katniss and Peeta went around the City Circle, their hands were tightly intertwined, their heads held high.

The fierce determination in Peeta's eyes burnt a hole through my chest. The shy boy who had once held my girl's hand was long gone; he'd been replaced by a strong, determined man who was ready to go into battle.

I knew, without a doubt, that if I ever saw Katniss again, it would be because of him. He hadn't volunteered to go into that arena expecting to survive. He just wanted to keep her safe. I had to admit that the hatred I'd once felt towards the baker's son had gradually turned into respect over the course of the last few months.

XXXXX

I remember the impotence I felt as President Snow read the card for the Quarter Quell. As soon as the announcement was over I rushed over to Catnip's house. I couldn't believe she was being sent back into an arena. Was this what she had been so afraid of? Was this how the president had chosen to punish her? To punish them?

A cold chill ran down my spine as I thought about the three victors on the main square, standing between Thread's whip and my bloody back. That act of defiance was probably one of the reasons why President Snow wanted them gone.

The familiar heat of anger enveloped my chest as I remembered how I'd called her a coward and criticized her for not wanting to fight. Well, she'd fought. She'd fought against the local authorities to save my life and, how was she being paid for it? With a second trip into an arena.

Suddenly, I realized the Quarter Quell was still months away. We could still do something. We could still run. By the time I found her, she was drunk and defeated. I knew the electric fence had been turned on, but I just wanted to grab her and run away.

She said running was no longer an option. She had given up. The notion broke my heart, but I couldn't really blame her. The last months had been a harsh and constant reminder of the Capitol's hold on our lives. Stricter security, which had resulted in whippings and imprisonment for some of the people we dealt with every day; a steady flow of electricity on the district's electrified fence; spoiled food on parcel day; longer working hours in the mines, and hunger. Endless hunger.

People were starving, and the Capitol still had the upper hand. President Snow's message had been very clear, "Even the strongest among them cannot overcome the power of the Capitol."

A couple of days later there was a knock on my door. I could barely hide my surprise when I saw Peeta Mellark on the other side of it. He was a bit nervous. We had never been alone before, but that didn't stop him. He wanted to train for the Quarter Quell, "like Careers," he said.

"You have survival skills," he added, "I know you're great with snares. Anything you can teach us will surely give us an advantage in the arena. Will you help us?"

How could I refuse?

The next Sunday I showed up at Victor's Village to help them train. Katniss's scowl as I approached the three victors the first day was quite comical. She was jittery and anxious, never quite knowing where to rest her eyes; evidently uncomfortable mixing these two different sides of her life. But, once Peeta explained the situation to her, she relaxed.

"We need all the help we can get," he patiently told her, "and it's not like you can go hunting on Sundays anymore."

In all truth, Katniss already knew most of the things I taught them, and Haymitch was too weak from withdrawal symptoms to pay any attention to my explanations. Peeta, ever the diligent student, tried his hardest to learn a few basic snares. But, hard as he tried, he lacked all the necessary instincts for setting the simple contraptions. He either tightened the wires excessively, or he balanced the traps incorrectly. He simply couldn't manage to get the most elementary of snares to hold its position.

I found myself holding back laughter each time one of his snares collapsed between his fingers. He wasn't deterred by failure, though. He would just huff, puff, and curse under his breath, and start all over again. It was the first time I'd seen him struggle with anything. I wondered what the throngs of adoring fans from the Capitol would think if they could hear the words emanating from their dazzling victor's mouth.

As weeks went by, their results improved. Peeta managed to master some basic traps, and Haymitch became less sluggish and more focused. He was still pretty surly, though. Katniss would often scowl at him and tell him that his attitude wasn't appreciated, but I think that only served to spur him on.

One day, as I was waiting around for them to finish a particular set of snares I'd just explained, I noticed how different the interaction between Peeta and Katniss seemed. After spending those days at the Everdeen home, I had grown used to the way they talked to each other. They would usually speak in hushed voices, standing close to each other, placing their hands on each other's arms or shoulders, drawing the other one close. It had always seemed like they were sharing some secret no one else was supposed to know about. And, from time to time, they'd even smile a little.

But, things were different now; there were no more private discussions, no whispers, no touching and, definitely, no smiling. Their interactions had become more distant since the Quarter Quell had been announced. I can't say it bothered me, though. If anything, it made my time with them easier to bear. They were getting ready to fight, and there was no room for distractions or romance, pretended or otherwise.

Even though they never shared any of their plans or strategies with me, I wasn't surprised when Peeta volunteered to replace Haymitch inside the arena. The devastated look on Catnip's face when he stepped forward nearly broke me in half.

I had to fight the urge to smack the smirk right out of Thread's lips as he shoved Katniss and Peeta into the transport that would take them to the train station. Right before they disappeared behind the doors of the justice building he turned towards me. His eyes were full of contempt, but I held my ground and stood tall. My hands were tight fists and I shot him a determined glare.

"This isn't over," I thought, "you won't be in charge forever."

I had planned to talk to Catnip after the reaping but, as I saw the train leaving the station, I wondered if maybe this had been for the best. Something deep inside told me that I didn't really want to hear what she'd been planning to say to me. I just kept reminding myself, "she came back once. She may come back again.

XXXXX

There they were. Standing in front of President Snow, listening to his speech. Their bodies glowed like a hot coal and their stares were unforgiving. They were still holding onto each other, clearly a united front. They were showing the world they were prepared to fight. I knew they'd been ready for months.

Looking at them I allowed myself to feel hopeful. All the training and strategizing they'd done over the last weeks might pay off after all.

A week later we were all back on the square. The new Peacekeepers made sure that no one stayed home, they wanted us where they could see us.

There was a nervous energy in the crowd. People in the district were feeling anxious after the announcement of the training scores the night before. Having two tributes from the same district with the highest score was unheard of. Caesar Flickerman said he couldn't remember a time when something like that had happened.

"Not even among Careers!" he'd squealed enthusiastically

Apparently, the fact that these lucky tributes were the star-crossed lovers made him giddy with anticipation. It made me nauseous with dread.

We all stared silently at the screens as Caesar interviewed this year's tributes. The audience in the Capitol cheered and gasped as their favorite victors stepped onto the stage. The Careers behaved the same as they always had, acting like well-oiled killing machines, but some of the other tributes were full of surprises.

Beetee Latier shocked everyone by suggesting that the rules for the Quarter Quell could be changed or amended. Finnick Odair's poem for a secret lover confused me, and Johanna Mason's rant against the Capitol brought a small smile to my lips. That woman was fierce! The thought of her sharing an arena with Katniss worried me.

When Katniss stepped onto the stage, dressed as a Capitol bride, I felt sick. The familiar taste of bile seeped into my mouth as she explained that President Snow had requested the outfit. I was so enraged that I blocked out most of her conversation with Caesar, but the sight of her twirling and catching fire on screen immediately brought my full attention back to the broadcast.

After, as she stood onstage with arms outstretched and a resolute look in her eyes, my heart leaped inside my chest. She was beautiful and she was about to take flight. I chanced a glance around the square. I could see the mix of excitement and fear on everyone's faces.

The Peacekeepers who were watching the show stood a bit straighter than they had before. Their message was clear. We might have been distracted by the show, but they weren't. They were watching us.

My whole body went numb as Peeta described District Twelve's toasting ceremony. When he said, "we're more married than any piece of paper or big party could make us" a burning ache exploded inside my chest.

Where is he going with this? I asked myself as I saw him fidget and stutter nervously in front of Caesar. I was still trying to control the dry heat that was spreading through my body when he blurted out, "Maybe I'd think that, too, Caesar, if it weren't for the baby."

The world stood still.

My mouth went dry and I realized I'd forgotten how to breathe. What was he talking about? There was no way this was true. It was all a lie. It had to be! The secret toasting… the baby. I knew it was a lie, but the rest of the world didn't. They actually believed him. And who could blame them, when he had those blue eyes of his, loaded with grief and regret, trained directly on the camera?

After a few seconds of absolute silence, the crowd on the square began to stir. Soft whispers jumped from one pair of lips to the next. I wanted to shush them all, to yell at them and scorn them for being so gullible.

The noise coming through the speakers brought my attention back to the broadcast. The audience in the Capitol was enraged; the announcement had them all in a frenzy. We could hear their incensed screams along with Caesar's futile attempts to pacify them.

The time allotted for the interview ran out. Peeta turned away from the camera. His eyes glistened with unshed tears as he made his way towards the back of the stage were all the other victors were assembled. Tears ran freely down his cheeks by the time he reached his bride. Katniss held his gaze for a moment and extended her hand out to him.

When I saw their intertwined fingers, I understood what he'd done. For reasons beyond my understanding, the people from the Capitol cared about the star-crossed lovers. They had anxiously followed their romance and they were looking forward to years of entertainment from the pair. First, they would have witnessed their wedding, and then they would have followed their children, who would have probably been reaped at some point as well. He was just giving them a new chapter of their fairytale romance, adding some drama into the mix.

The other victors had been known in the Capitol for years. Sponsors already knew whom they were going to back. The only thing that set the District Twelve victors apart from the rest was the fact that they were a couple. People needed to be reminded of that fact, even if it was painful for me to hear.

The screen didn't hold Katniss's sad expression for long. As the camera moved away from her, she dropped Peeta's gaze and turned around to face her fellow tributes.

Nervous energy coursed through my veins when I saw Katniss reach out her hand to hold Chaff's stump. One by one the other victors followed her example. It was like an unstoppable avalanche of victors reaching out to their neighbors. Within seconds they were all holding hands, even the Careers reluctantly joined in the gesture.

There they stood, for the entire world to see, 24 victors linked together, 12 districts united.

I thought my heart would burst with excitement, but once the screens went black, the excitement was replaced with dread. We had just witnessed an act of treason; there was no way President Snow would forgive this.

I hardly slept a wink that night. I couldn't switch my mind off. I kept thinking about all the horrors that awaited Katniss inside that arena. I'd never seen a Quarter Quell before but I'd heard they were particularly horrifying and, I was pretty sure the game makers wouldn't hold back with an arena full of victors.

I anxiously tossed and turned as I waited for morning to break.

XXXXX

The arena turned out to be every bit as terrifying as I had imagined. Clearly, the game makers had considered many different angles; including the fact that some of the tributes had known each other for a long time and might have qualms about killing one another, so the arena did it for them.

I watched hour after hour, counting all the horrors that the different wedges held, hoping Katniss and her group of allies realized they were being held inside a giant clock.

Katniss's alliance with Finnick unsettled me. He was one of the most artificial and shallow products the Capitol had to offer. How could she possibly trust him? At some point, they were going to have to turn on each other. How was she going to get rid of him when the time came?

My whole body stiffened when Peeta hit the force field. I held my breath as Finnick moved over him.

I glanced around the square and found the baker and his two sons standing a couple of rows ahead of me. Confusion and concern were written all over their faces as they watched Finnick covering Peeta's mouth with his own and pressing his chest rhythmically.

Every pair of eyes in that square was glued to the images playing on the screens. One screen showed Katniss's perplexed expression as she watched Finnick working on Peeta. The other two showed different angles of Finnick's efforts.

No one moved a muscle. The only sounds in the square were Katniss's sobs coming through the speakers.

Even though I could hardly breathe my mind was racing. What was Finnick doing? Why had Katniss lowered her arrow? Was she surrendering?

The sound of Peeta's cough froze my racing mind.

Every single person on that square sighed in relief. I watched in amazement as Katniss pulled Peeta into her arms.

The square erupted in applause. The baker hugged his two sons, joyful tears streaming down their cheeks. Relief washed over me and I allowed myself a small smile. Peeta was alive, Katniss wasn't alone, Finnick had helped them.

Finnick had helped them.

Why? They were inside an arena. Only one of them could survive. Tributes normally attacked or ignored each other; no one had ever brought someone else back to life. It went against every principle the Games stood for. I was still trying to understand Finnick's motivation when I turned my attention back to my district's tributes.

Katniss was holding on to Peeta. She was crying uncontrollably. Peeta's arms were tightly wrapped around her and he kept rubbing soothing circles on her back.

The gesture brought me back to the night when I saw them together under the snow in Victor's Village. It seemed that, once more, he was the only person in the world who could comfort her.

The desperation in her voice as she tried to explain that his heart had stopped worried me. She'd looked so broken during those long seconds when she thought he'd died. I asked myself what would have become of her if he had. The answer chilled me to the bone, mostly because I knew that he wasn't planning on surviving this adventure.

She was clinging on to Peeta, hiccuping and sighing, unable to catch her breath, when I noticed Finnick's confused expression. He was obviously surprised by my friend's outburst. The whole thing seemed to make him uncomfortable. I can't say I blamed him, though. All that sobbing and whimpering were starting to get on my nerves. Besides, I figured that someone like him would be hard pressed to know what real affection was.

Real.

Yes, the bond between Katniss and Peeta was undeniably real. Everything about this moment attested to that. And, if what I had seen around here over the course of the last few months was any indication, it had been real for some time.

Days went by. Katniss and most of her allies managed to survive the new horrors that each hour brought.

The old District Four victor's sacrifice saddened me. People in District Twelve didn't usually reach old age, not even among the town's merchant class. The constant malnutrition and poor living conditions in the district didn't exactly promote longevity, and those who did survive were usually riddled with illness and misery. But Mags had seemed different, full of life somehow.

Maybe having braved the odds at such a young age had made her appreciate life; maybe having her victor's earnings all those years had made life easier for her. Still, I couldn't bring myself to resent her after she had so clearly decided to end her life so that Peeta could have his. Once again I found the actions of a District Four tribute puzzling. What game were these people playing? What were they hoping to achieve? The question unnerved me and I was determined to find an answer.

Just when I thought things couldn't get any weirder Johanna Mason joined the group. She was strong, vicious and volatile and I had to wonder how on earth was Katniss going to rid herself of the veteran victor.

Even though she wasn't very fond of Katniss her interactions with Finnick were almost sweet, and she appeared to be genuinely moved by Mags's death. They'd probably known each other for years. Their alliance made sense.

I thought back to Katniss's previous Game. She'd only had two allies then. The first one had been the small intelligent girl who had clearly reminded her of Prim. The strong bond they'd shared had been evident.

Her second ally had been Peeta, and she only joined him after the rules had been changed when she thought she wouldn't have to kill him to survive. I was obviously expecting her and Peeta to have some sort of joint strategy this time around, but I hadn't expected anyone else to join them.

Regardless of how anxious these arrangements between tributes made me, I had to recognize that Catnip was really benefiting from them. Finnick fed them fresh fish, Wiress's ramblings made them realize that the arena worked like a clock, and when the group decided to raid the cornucopia, Johanna's prowess with an ax was certainly helpful. For once, the Careers didn't seem as strong whenever they were on screen.

The one thing that kept nagging at me was that I couldn't understand why some of these people appeared to be willing to risk their lives for my district's tributes. Katniss and Peeta didn't seem to be aware of it, but the others were constantly finding ways to keep them out of harm's way. I couldn't piece it together. It annoyed me.

XXXXX

"KATNISS!"

Prim's shrill scream pierced the town square. The chilling sound seemed so real it was hard to believe it wasn't coming straight from her mouth. Honestly, if I hadn't been standing right next to her at the time, I might have believed she was being held captive in the arena.

Katniss didn't waste any time, she ran into the jungle as fast as her legs could take her, recklessly disregarding her allies' advice.

My mouth went dry when my anguished cries filled the square. Katniss's desperate look at the sound of my voice tightened my chest with sorrow. By the time she realized the sounds were coming from the jabberjays, it was already too late. She'd been trapped inside the wedge.

Katniss and Finnick had to wait out the hour while the other tributes stood helplessly by on the other side of the wedge's barrier.

Peeta's heartbroken look filled the screens. The fact that the game makers hadn't bothered to use the voices of any of his family members wasn't lost on me. Watching Katniss struggle, and not being able to do anything about it, was torture enough for him.

XXXXX

Once the jabberjay incident was over, things calmed in the arena. The tribute alliance claimed the beach while the Careers braved the horrors each hour brought inside the jungle.

A spark of hope lit within me when I heard Beetee explain his plan to electrocute the Careers. At first, the idea sounded very elaborate but, once I analyzed it, I realized how beautiful it was in its simplicity. A little bit of moisture in the sand, a bolt of lightning and a very special wire, paired with the lure of an empty beach, and the Careers would be history.

It was just like setting one of my snares exactly where I knew the prey was sure to follow. The hunter in me couldn't wait to see their plan in motion.

I was grateful for Peeta's prudent approach when Katniss suggested breaking away from their allies. It made no sense for them to fight on two different fronts. Things within the alliance were bound to get ugly once the Careers were gone, but, until then, it was in their best interest to stick together. There weren't that many tributes left in the arena at that point.

XXXXX

I was at home, sitting on the battered old couch my dad had built back when he and my mom were newlyweds. Rory and Vick were sitting on the floor directly in front of me. They were playing with the set of dominoes that Katniss had given Rory on his last birthday.

My mom came into the room, a doll-wielding Posy trailing behind her, and sat next to me. A few seconds later the old TV set came to life, the mandatory viewing transmission had begun.

Claudius Templesmith and Caesar Flickerman showed up on screen. I had always disliked watching the Games and everything they represented, but having these two uninvited guests inside my home giving us updates on Katniss's situation always made it worse. I felt like their presence on the screen infected my home with their extravagant costumes and fake Capitol accents. After watching their usual inane commentary on the day's events inside the arena, we were connected to the live feed.

The sun had set inside the arena. The allies were still on the beach and, so far, it looked like everything was going according to plan.

Katniss and Peeta had taken the first watch while everyone else slept. They were sitting on the damp sand, facing away from each other.

Every once in a while, the cameras would show shots of the Careers and Chaff spending the night hidden away in wedges that weren't active. It was a slow night for the audience and I hoped the game makers wouldn't get restless.

Eventually, Katniss and Peeta were back on screen. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat when Peeta started talking about Haymitch and the deals he might have made with them.

"He made me promises as well," he said.

I started wondering just how honest this conversation between them was going to be. Was he still trying to manipulate the audience and to gain sponsors, or was he actually trying to convince Katniss of something?

He kept on talking about how different their circumstances were, and when he said, "there are other people who'd make your life worth living," I froze in my seat.

He went on to remove the gold disc that was hanging from his neck and slid his finger along the side of it to pop it open.

My jaw dropped.

The image projected, on a full close-up on my TV screen, inside my home, was of my face. I looked around the room and I found four pairs of eyes trained on me. My siblings looked surprised. My mother looked worried. I crossed my arms over my chest and I trained my eyes back on the screen.

Katniss's eyes glazed over and I could see her hand tremble slightly as she held the locket in her palm. Peeta talked about how her family depended on her and how no one really needed him. He sounded more resigned than sad, there was no pity in his voice. He was making a vow, he was ready to give her everything so that she, and her loved ones, could survive.

A lump settled in my throat. I simply couldn't believe what I was watching. How could anyone be this selfless?

Shame washed over me as I recalled all the insults I'd hurled at him in the last year, and all the ways in which I had disrespected him. He was willing to give his life for a girl so that she could be happy with someone else. No, not someone else. He was hoping she would be happy with me. Would she be happy with me?

Almost in perfect sync with my thoughts, Katniss countered, "I do. I need you."

Disappointment flashed across Peeta's face, but just for a second, because Katniss's lips were immediately on his.

My eyes widened in surprise as I watched the girl, who had once been like a little sister to me, small and innocent, attack the blonde with her lips. She was relentless, like an obsessed hunter with her prey, and she wasn't letting go. I was surprised to see that Peeta tried to stop her. He wanted to keep on talking, things had clearly not gone as he'd planned, but she was having none of it. Every time he pulled back she leaned into him again, hungrily pressing her lips to his.

I had seen them kiss hundreds of times. For the most part, their kisses weren't very heated, I'd always assumed that was because they'd been pretending. Later, when Katniss and I kissed, I attributed the lack of spark between us to the fact that I'd caught her by surprise or that I'd been heavily sedated. The more I thought about it, the more I believed that maybe she just wasn't a very passionate person. She had always tried to keep her emotions in check and she'd never been interested in romance. Being so inexperienced and having been forced into playing this love story in front of an audience had probably been traumatic for her. But, as I saw her devour Peeta Mellark onscreen, I realized just how wrong I had been. There was a reason why she'd never kissed me like that; I hadn't inspired her to do it.

The sound of the bolt of lightning hitting the tree at midnight was like music to my ears. Peeta and Katniss had been kissing for a while by then, and the transmission hadn't moved away from them for a second. Clearly, the game makers thought that watching older tributes shiver under palm trees was not as interesting as watching two lovers kiss in the moonlight.

Two lovers. The thought stopped me short.

The noise had brought Katniss and Peeta back to their senses, and as she settled in for the night, and he moved over to stand guard with Finnick, I started to worry again. One thing was painfully clear; the star-crossed lovers had become their own worst enemies. They were playing a very dangerous game; they might both die while trying to keep the other one alive.

My mind flitted back to Peeta's comment about Haymitch and his double deals. Which one of his tributes was the old mentor rooting for?

My mom's voice broke my line of thought. "I'm sorry," she said. Her voice was soft and laced with worry.

"Nah, don't worry mom," I tried to reassure her, "I've known this for some time now."

"But you were still hoping…"

"Yeah. I don't even know what I was hoping for anymore," I added truthfully. "Everything has changed so much. We're not the same people we were."

After giving me a silent nod, she stood up from her place on the couch and went over to the kitchen. "I'll get some food on the table," she mumbled before disappearing into the adjoining room.

I covered my face with my hands, closed my eyes and let out the breath I'd been holding. I was so tired. I felt completely defeated.

XXXXX

AN

I want to thank the lovely AlwaysEverlark for the beautiful banner she made for this story.

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The Hunger Games Trilogy is property of Suzanne Collins. No money was made off of the creation of this fanwork.