Things were a blur for Shawn after that, until he found himself sitting on a thick, plush couch in a fancy private room, waiting for anyone who might come to say goodbye to him.

He didn't have to wait long. Suddenly the door was opening, and Henry Spencer was walking in, his expression grim, like it usually was before he lectured his son on some mistake or other.

Shawn looked up at him for a second, and then sighed.

"Okay, before you start chewing me out for being stupid, let's think about this for a minute. I was trying to-"

He didn't expect his father to step forward and envelope him in his arms.

Shawn froze up, before hesitantly wrapping his arms around his father's waist and leaning his head against his chest.

They stayed like that for at least two minutes, not saying a word. Despite his bewilderment at this display of affection, Shawn decided that he was going to enjoy it regardless. He just closed his eyes, and thought that if this was the last time he'd see his father, it could honestly be a lot worse.

Then Henry spoke.

"You need to come back, Shawn."

Shawn opened his eyes. "Meaning…?"

Without really letting go, Henry maneuvered until he was sitting on the couch next to him. "Don't get killed. While you're there."

Shawn found himself saying sarcastically, "I'll do my best not to." Then, with a frown, "Does that mean you want me to-you know there can be only one Victor-I can't-"

"No, Shawn, I don't want you to-Gus-" Henry scowled in frustration, knowing that hadn't come out right, and that he definitely didn't want his son to be the one to have to kill Gus-or have anyone kill Gus for that matter, but you know. Finally, weakly, he whispered, "Just come back after it's over."

Come back to me, he didn't say.

Shawn wasn't sure what to make of that either. But he just cleared his throat and asked, "Any other advice?"

Henry looked at him. "Try to get sponsors. And when you first come out into the Cornucopia, don't waste time trying to get anything unless you know for sure it won't slow you down. Just run for it, and try to find shelter, food and water as soon as you can. And remember what you've learned from hunting, the few times you actually paid attention."

Shawn rolled his eyes.

His father then lifted something out of his pants pocket and offered it to Shawn-appropriately enough, a gold pocket watch.

"You can bring one token to the Games with you. If you want, you can have this."

It looked just like Henry's watch, Shawn noticed. And when he opened it, he saw that the inside was engraved with the words, Don't Lose. Henry.

"...When did you get this?"

How did you afford this?

"Mahoney was able to make me a good deal. I was going to give it to you next week as a birthday gift."

"Dad, my birthday was four months ago."

"And it took you four months after you were born to smile at me. So there."

Shawn looked back at the watch. Finally, with a flourish, he put it in his pocket.

"Thanks."

He wanted to ask about Mom, if there was a chance he would see her while he was at the Capitol. But he didn't get a chance.

The door opened again, and the Peacekeepers walked into the room. As soon as they did, Henry stood up, squeezing Shawn's shoulder and then, on an impulse, leaned down and kissed his forehead briefly.

Of course, Henry Spencer had too much personal dignity to let himself be dragged away from his son, regardless of the fact that he might never see him again. He walked out with dignity.

Shawn wasn't alone again for long. This time, the door opened to reveal Joy, which he really hadn't been expecting.

Of course, he covered his surprise by smiling and asking, "You here to kiss me goodbye?"

As she marched towards him, he stood up and leaned his head forward slightly, invitingly-

CRACK!

A few seconds later, he had fallen back onto the sofa, and was clutching his cheek in shock.

Joy didn't mince words; she leaned forward, and said icily, "If you kill Burton, I will never forgive you."

Shawn was appalled; more than that, he was hurt. How could she think-didn't she see when he'd volunteered for these stupid games in an effort to protect Gus from having to go into them? What had he ever done to her to give her such a low opinion of him?

Joy's eyes, he noticed, were red from crying, and her lips were trembling a little. She must have just been with Gus, had to say goodbye to him…

Shawn was just wondering what to say to somehow salvage this (and maybe get a kiss from her after all), when she turned and walked back out again.

The only other two people Shawn would have expected to come see him off were going to be on the train with him. So he just sat and waited for another few minutes until Trout came to collect him.

The drive to the train station was silent. Gina and Abigail sat in the back seat, Shawn and Gus in the front, with Trout sitting in the middle seat and eating a Smart Balance bar.

Gus had clearly been crying too; in fact, he was still sniffling a little, and Shawn could guess that as soon as they were alone there was going to be a meltdown. In fact, there would probably be one any moment if he couldn't think of some way to distract Gus, because it wouldn't be a good idea for them to look like easy prey to the other tributes-

And then, as they arrived at the station and clambered out, he found one.

"Lassie!" he cried joyfully, running towards District 12's only surviving victor.

Carlton Lassiter scowled, and as Shawn tried to throw his arms around him, the flat of the hand that wasn't currently strangling a whiskey bottle caught him in the chest and shoved him back hard.

When he was done gasping with pain, Shawn danced back to his side.

"Oh, come on, don't be like that," he said poutily, leaning up against Lassiter's side and batting his eyelashes obnoxiously. "You know you're glad to see us."

"It just figures that the one year I have to deal with twice the amount of idiots, two of them would be you and Guster," Lassiter growled.

"And just think," Gus joined in with a cheeky grin, "you get to have us around all the way to the Capitol, and you have to mentor us, and teach us everything you know about how to win the Games! This is gonna be so much fun!"

Lassiter looked like he was trying to swallow a lemon; he washed it down with a pull on the whiskey.

"Carlton," said Trout contemptuously. "I see you're still drunk."

The other man swallowed, glared at him.

"Harris. I see you're still a disgusting parasite. At least I could sober up if I wanted."

"Ooh, BURN!" Shawn and Gus chorused in unison.

"Granted, it could be considered a little stereotypical of a comeback..." Shawn mused after a second.

"But still, for Lassie, that's a real win!" said Gus.

The two men just glared at both of them, while in the background Shawn noticed that Abigail, despite the circumstances, looked like she was trying not to laugh. He felt a surge of pleasure.

Gus managed to last through the meal (and ate about half of it, it seemed like), during which Abigail picked at her food, Gina ate as voraciously as the boys, Trout scowled at them all, and Lassiter drank. It wasn't until they were safely ensconced in Shawn's room that Gus buried his face in Shawn's pillow with an unhappy wail.

"I don't wanna die, Shawn!"

"Ssh, ssh, it's okay, you're not-" Shawn realized what he was saying, and fell silent. Because it wasn't like he could in all honesty promise that, could he? But what could he do?

"Gus," he finally said, "it'll be fine. Maybe there's a way we can both come out of this alive."

Gus raised his head up and glared at him. "How, Shawn? How can we possibly both survive a situation where there can only be one Victor?"

Shawn pursed his lips, before finally saying, "I'm still working on that. But I'll figure out something."

"You are going to figure out a way to-" Gus stopped himself before he could say break the Capitol's rules; after all, there were probably listening devices in this room.

"Have a little faith in me, please." To his surprise, Shawn actually reached out and touched his shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

Eventually Gus fell asleep; even though Shawn had claimed the room as his, he decided to let it go for now. He just sat on the bed next to his friend, lost in thought, considering possible scenarios. Especially because it kept him from freaking out himself.

It would have been so much easier if someone else had been picked after he'd volunteered; not that he wanted to kill anyone, but if maybe Jimmy Nicholls the bully had been the one going into the Arena with him instead, he wouldn't be as upset and worried-

A sudden flash crossed his memory-Trout's hand, holding Gus's name-Trout's hand going back into the bowl-Trout's hand holding the fresh piece of paper-

He nudged Gus in the shoulder, waking him up with a start.

"Gus, when Trout drew your name again, did you see what he did with the old one?"

After blinking sleepily for a moment, Gus frowned. "No, I was kind of distracted by the fact that you had just taken my place and were going to your death." Then his eyes narrowed. "Why?"

For a moment, Shawn considered saying "No reason, go back to sleep." But instead (for once) he found himself telling the truth.

"Neither did I…"

The boys found Trout in the main lounge, sitting bolt upright on the far end of one of the invitingly plush sofas, wearing a blindfold.

"What do you two want?" he demanded as soon as they stepped in.

Shawn and Gus glanced at each other. "We just thought maybe you could explain something to us," Shawn finally said. "Because I think that when you chose a new name out of the bowl, you just palmed Gus's name in your hand and brought it back out again."

A long pause passed between the three of them. Then Trout asked, "Is that right?"

Shawn nodded, then remembered the man he was talking to couldn't see him. "So I just was wondering what you hoped to gain from doing it."

Trout slowly raised the bottom of the blindfold, and squinted at them.

"If your little theory was correct," he mused, "it would make a great story, wouldn't it?"

While the boys stared at him pop-eyed, he went on, "Two best friends having to potentially fight each other to the death-it'll have the audiences sobbing their eyes out. And the one who created this excellent scenario-well. There's a chance he'd finally get promoted out of the slum he's spent so long being the escort for, and go on to greener pastures."

Trout pulled the blindfold back down with a slight smirk.

"May the odds be ever in your favor, boys."

Again, I apologize for OOC moments. I also wonder if I made Trout too evil, but it kind of works, under the circumstances.