A/N: This chapter is fairly long, and provides background information on Kurt's childhood. I wrote this while I was highly caffeinated, so bear with me.

Special Thanks to Mlle. Moony for dealing with my annoying texts/emails and for making my good writing great.

Chapter 2- Goodbye and Hello

I remember only a few details of the next hour. Being pushed onstage by Peacekeepers. Carol and Dad crying. Not shaking Blaine's hand, but hugging him. Two boys in the crowd yelling at us. In the Justice Building, my dad promising to set this right, and giving me my token, a delicate-looking golden chain bracelet with a charm bearing the word "Courage". Hugging him. Being ushered into a car, then onto a train. Blacking out.

I dreamed of my childhood.

My earliest memory is of my dad. He was lying on his bed, still in his work clothes, sobbing as he clutched an old picture and the golden bracelet I was now wearing. I now know that the picture was my parents' wedding photo. When he saw me enter, he cried even harder. He blubbered something along the lines of "looks just like his mother" and burst into a new wave of tears. That was the day my mother died. Peacekeepers had seen her eating an apple from our orchard, which technically belonged to the Capitol. She was killed on the spot. I was five years old.

Flash forward three years. By now, the Hummels and Andersons had merged our two small, adjacent apple orchards into one. We lived in one large, almost mansion-like home. My dad was getting married to Carol, a lady who had just moved here from District 3. I threw myself into the preparations, helping Carol design her dress, teaching my dad what a cummerbund was, and appointing myself best man, maid of honor, ring bearer, and flower girl. I even sewed my own suit.

When I was eleven, the Capitol gave us a bonus if we promised to use a new type of apple tree. The breed was genetically mutated, so the apple trees were now forty to fifty feet high. I would find refuge up on the highest branches whenever I got overwhelmed or sad, which happened all too often in Panem. We now had extra money to spend on ourselves, something that had almost never been possible before. Nowadays, the family business is more like a corporate empire. We're kind of like celebrities in 11. Correction: I was.

Blaine and I started dating about two years ago. We told our parents together. They were surprisingly accepting and supportive of our relationship. More than once, Blaine and I risked death to sneak out after curfew and climb one of the trees in the orchard. This seemed to be where our sweetest kisses were: atop a crisp apple tree in the dead of fall, the breeze gently blowing around us. The world felt perfect, if just for a moment.

There were tears on my pillow when I woke up. I wasn't surprised.

The blaring red numbers on the alarm clock next to me said 4:17 AM. I lay under a fuzzy comforter on a huge bed. I still wore my clothes from yesterday.

Yesterday.

The Reaping.

How is this possible? I thought. How could I be the girl tribute? Is this even legal? How could anyone be that stupid?

Then I remembered. This was the Quarter Quell. The theme this year was a repeat of the first Quell, with a twist. The children voted for their tributes, and each vote went in the reaping ball once. Volunteers weren't allowed. The election had taken place at school. The guys must have thought it was a laugh; they all hated me anyway.

Again, I glanced at my clock: 5:09. I figured I might as well get up, so I dressed in some clothes I found in my closet (a simple white tee and black jeans) and attempted to complete my moisturizing routine with the bar of soap and the travel size bottle of lotion I found in my bahtroom. After deeming myself presentable, I exited my room and found my way to the dining car. I grabbed a blueberry muffin (Blaine's favorite) and some kind of apple pastry, then put them on a plate and sat down.

I took a bite of the pastry. It tasted like home, and it brought back so many memories: harvesting the fruit with my dad, packing it in crates to send to the Capitol; Blaine's sweet kisses atop the tallest apple trees. Teardrops were falling before I knew it. I dropped the pastry, and sat there, crying in silence.

I would never have that life again. Either I would go home a victor and lose Blaine forever, or I would die and leave my dad and Carol to grieve for me. Of course, the odds of victory were never in my favor. Best-case scenario, Blaine and I would both die and meet again in some obscure after-life.

It was then that I started thinking like a tribute. I was decent with knives, but that, unfortunately, was my only offensive strength (as far as I was aware). Since I used to sneak out of the house with Blaine all the time, I had rather amazing night vision. I was mentally reviewing which wild plants I was likely to encounter when Gino, followed by Blaine, entered the dining car. Gino went straight for the food, but Blaine walked over to me, kissing me ever so lightly on the forehead and taking the chair next to mine. I handed him the muffin, which he didn't eat. Gino sat down carelessly, his plate piled high with eggs, bacon, sausages, and biscuits. He stared across at us, holding a mug of what smelled like coffee and a glass of orange juice in one hand. There was one last empty chair beside him.

We sat in a silence that lasted a second too long. Blaine was the first to speak.

"Where's our mentor?"

Just then, a crash rang through the wall of the adjacent car. We turned our heads at once as the door opened and the smell of liquor wafted in, followed by a woman I could only assume was our mentor. She clutched a broken bottle; a cut ran across the palm of her other hand. Tossing the bottle into the nearest garbage can and pausing briefly to rinse her bloodied hand in the sink on the wall, she stumbled towards us and sat next to Gino, who cringed at the almost-contact.

"Kurt, Blaine," Gino said, "this is your mentor, Sue Sylvester."

"Victor of the one hundred and fourteenth annual Games," she slurred. To this day, I have no idea how someone can get drunk so quickly. "Now, to business. You two need sponsors. Casper the Feminine Ghost over here," (I rolled my eyes) "has already attracted attention. But that's not enough. I don't know if Hair Gel Helmet is closeted, but I'd bet my largest tub of protein powder that you two are a flaming gay couple. That's good; use it. From now on, sponsors are your best friends. They could literally save your life. This year, anything's allowed, from weapons to blankets. It used to be just food and medicine." For the next hour or so, she proceeded to give us a massive list of strategies. Gino left within minutes, sensing that he wasn't really an important part of the conversation. During the hour, Sue seemed to sober up a bit, her speech becoming clearer and more articulated than its original slur.

Suddenly, everything got dark. The room fell silent. All we could hear was the thu-thump of the train as it moved along the track, pounding out a nervous heartbeat. Barely thirty seconds had passed when we entered the Capitol train station.

Thousands of candy-colored Capitol citizens flooded the station. Half of them were focused on our train, while the other half faced what appeared to be two more tributes: a larger brunette girl and a similarly-built guy with brownish-blond hair. They were being pushed through the crowd by two Peacekeepers and a shockingly neon-colored woman whom I took to be their escort. Gino re-entered the dining car and ushered us to the next car over, then out of the train.

Blaine grabbed my hand and led me through the crowd. We were trailed by the same Peacekeepers who followed Gino, Sue, and the other tributes. Cameras flashed, causing blind spots to mar my vision. Fans grabbed at anything they could reach: my clothes, my hair, whatever would give them contact with me. Blaine smiled and waved to the crowd, and I followed suit. Guys and girls alike squealed when I started blowing kisses to the crowd.

A black stretch limo was waiting for us. The chauffeur opened the door, and as soon as we were all safely inside and the door was shut, Gino turned to us.

"You guys are naturals. I can't remember the last time the Capitol responded to tributes like that. They. LOVE. You."

I might have a chance!, I thought. Then I looked at Blaine, and my heart broke all over again.

Thanks for sticking with me so far! Please review!