A/N: Thank you soooo much for all the wonderful reviews! I can't tell you how much I appreciate them all :) You are all really motivating me to keep working on this story! We're approaching the end (only 3 more chapters after this one!) And I'm working to write them as quickly as possible. I want to get working on my new AU story as well as maybe finish this one shot I started a while back. I'm really excited for this story to wrap and for you to all see what is in store. Please let me know what you think. Thanks and enjoy!

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Dawn has just arrived in District 12 when I finally come to.

I sit up slowly, my head pounding as last night's events come rushing back to me. I shift awkwardly and feel every blow delivered last night throb in pain. I take in my surroundings, thankful at least, that the deserted alley they left me in kept me out of sight.

I look around and see my small bag of supplies I picked up at the Hob. The contents are spread out over 10 yards from my spot in the alley to the path where I must have been walking when I was attacked. Everything is either broken or spilled on the ground, completely useless. There was nothing particularly essential lost and I'm thankful that I stocked up a couple days ago and we have enough food at home.

Then I catch sight of the baby blue dress I bought for Prim at the end of the alley, near the path to the Seam. I must have tried clinging to it in desperation as they dragged me over here.

I crawl over to the piece of fabric on my hands and knees, my stomach tightening and my eyes starting to water as I see the state it has been left in. I pick up the dress and press it to my face, releasing the tears of anger and sorrow for what has been taken from me, for what they did to me.

The dress is covered with dirt and rips everywhere from the force of the struggle. I wanted to give this to Prim so badly. I wanted to see her face light up when she saw it laid out on her bed, the realization that I remembered and went back and got it for her, the shock that she finally has something nice of her own now.

I cry for a long time, clinging to the fabric and letting myself sulk in the agony of it all.

Finally, with great effort, I rise to my feet, feeling every muscle in my body protest. I walk gingerly, and without realizing it, head back into Town, to the one person I now associate with safety and comfort, my salvation.


I knock twice on the back door of the bakery and I don't realize how careless I'm being until it's too late.

Fortunately, it's Peeta's father who answers the door. It's so early, but I'm sure he's already been up for a while, baking fresh goods to sell for the day. He takes one look at me, his eyes widening in alarm as he takes in my disheveled appearance, and then moves back inside the house without saying a word.

I sway on my feet at the doorstep, unsteady and weak. I am just about ready to collapse when I hear the most beautiful sound in the world, Peeta's voice.

"Katniss? Oh my god..."

I look up into Peeta's eyes as he steps outside and immediately burst into tears.

He pulls me into his arms, holding me so tightly I know he'll never let go. I bury my face in his chest, taking in the scent of him and wetting his shirt with my tears. He runs his hands over my hair and gently up and down my back, pressing kisses to my head and whispering words of comfort.

"It's okay, I got you now...you're alright," he says as my cries finally start to subside.

He pulls back after a while, cupping my face in his strong hands. He looks deep into my eyes and I can see how much he cares about me in that one look. He looks worried and confused, loving and compassionate, each emotion fighting to win out as he struggles how to process that I showed up at his door like this at this hour.

"Stay right here, I'll be right back," he commands and I nod silently as he disappears back inside for a moment.

When he returns he's carrying a bag of supplies and he takes my hand without saying anything and leads me away from the bakery. For a moment I'm confused about where we're going, but I don't protest, because I know I'll go wherever he wants to take me.

He leads me to the abandoned shack at the far end of the Seam. He doesn't say anything, just walks quickly and quietly, with a purpose. When we get there he leads me over to the bed that is still made from our time here together the other day and tells me to sit down.

He kneels in front of me and starts rummaging through his bag. He pulls out a plastic bag full of ice and tells me to hold it against my head where I can feel a huge bump already forming. He then takes out a clean rag and wets it with water from a canteen.

He reaches out gently and starts to wipe away the blood and dirt from my wounds, the ones on my face and arms. He still doesn't say anything, just takes care of me, nursing me back to health until my wounds are covered and I'm almost back to normal.

"I'm so sorry," I break the silence, unable to take it anymore.

"Katniss..." he sighs, and I know he's going to say it doesn't matter and he's not mad anymore, but that doesn't change anything.

I still need to make it right.

"No, I'm sorry about what I said. It wasn't your fault. I took my frustrations out on you," I explain, a fresh wave of pain and guilt and sorrow hitting me anew. "I don't know what I'd do without you. I'm so lucky I have you..." that's all I can get out before my emotions boil over and a lump forms in my throat and I have to stop talking before I start sobbing again.

He stands from his position kneeling in front of me on the floor and comes to sit beside me by the bed. I place the bag back in his bag. He wraps an arm around me and I lean into his body, resting my head on his shoulder.

He kisses my forehead once and just holds me for a little while.

"What happened?" He finally asks.

And I tell him. I tell him about walking home from the Hob when it was already dark and the attack that came out of nowhere. I tell him how they dragged me to the alley and the burlap sack they put over my head so I couldn't see who it was. I tell him how they punched and kicked me until I was almost unconscious, but I leave out the part where they grabbed my chest, wanting to spare him the misery of that humiliating detail. I do mention that I did hear one voice that I thought might belong to Karrick, but I can't be totally sure.

He stays silent the entire time, just pulling me a little closer as he listens patiently. When I finish I lift my eyes to meet his for the first time. His jaw is clenched so tightly I can see the muscles quivering with the effort. His eyes are swimming with the anger and pain that he is trying to keep at bay. It takes him several slow, deep breaths before he can speak.

"I wish I could protect you. I wish you didn't have to deal with any of this. I wish life was fair." He cups my face in his hands and kisses me gently. "You don't deserve this."

I lean up and kiss him deeply, wanting to feel as close as possible. I get lost in the taste of him, the taste of his mouth putting me back together, healing the wounds you can't see with your eyes. I cling to the front of his shirt, pulling him towards me. When we break away to catch our breath he leans his forehead against mine.

"Are you okay?" He whispers.

"I have you, don't I?"

He gives me a crooked grin and then we move to the head of the bed. We kick off our shoes and then he pulls me against his chest, one arm around my shoulders and the other holding my hand.

We drift off to sleep, content in each other's arms.

When we wake the sun is bright outside and it must be midday already. I glance up at him just as he is starting to come to. He gives me a lazy smile and I realize I already feel 10 times better than when I woke up this morning in that deserted alley. The scrapes and bruises are still there, but just being here with him has quieted the discontent in my mind, eased the pain in my soul.

I lean up to kiss him and slip my hand underneath the hem of his shirt, trailing my fingers across the flat muscles of his stomach. He makes a noise in the back of his throat. He pushes me onto my back and moves over me, deepening our kiss.

Suddenly, everything is hot and passionate and intense. The way things can heat up between us so quickly never fails to amaze me. He trails his lips down my neck, sucking lightly on the flesh. I moan because it feels so good and I don't want him to stop.

Before I can even process what is happening he moves down my body, pulling down my pants and underwear, and spreading my legs. I gasp at suddenly feeling exposed and vulnerable, but don't make any attempt to stop him. I close my eyes, waiting for the feel of his fingers against my wetness. Instead, I feel his hot breath and I cry out. I don't even have time to stop him or be embarrassed before he is licking me, sucking me, tasting me.

I writhe on the bed, grasping fistfuls of sheets, feeling my body respond to his touch. He doesn't stop, he is relentless. He devours me and although I know I should be embarrassed, I can't stop the moans of pleasure that escape me. I urge him on, bucking my hips up towards his face. My body tightens, the pleasure building, so much more intense than anything I've ever felt. I brace myself for the explosion and in one hot wave of ecstasy it hits me.

I scream, unable to hold back, letting the euphoria wash over me, letting it wash away all the pain and sadness I've held onto for so long.

Without realizing it I start to cry, overcome with emotion, with how he has come into my life and completely taken over my mind, body, and soul. My heart belongs to him now, there is no getting around that. It doesn't matter we come from different worlds. He is a part of me I never knew was missing.

He moves back beside me, pulling me in his arms. I can hear the sudden worry and concern in his voice when he asks me what's wrong, but I respond with the only thought I can fathom at the moment.

"I love you," I say, smiling through my tears.


The day before the second half of the competition I meet up with Peeta after school. All competitors are supposed to meet up at the multi-purpose room where they'll announce the standings after the first round. When we get there we split up, Peeta going over to talk with Haymitch while I hover awkwardly around the group of boys.

I try to meet Karrick's eye, but he won't even look at me. I want to stare him down, let him know he hasn't broken me, but as usual he is showing just how much of a coward he really is.

As my eyes remain trained on Karrick I watch from across the room as Peeta approaches him. Instantly Karrick's eyes widen in fear and he even shuffles a few steps backwards. His entire demeanor, his fear of Peeta, is as good as an admission of his guilt in my attack.

Peeta grabs him by the arm forcefully and pulls him away from the crowd of boys, practically dragging him to the other side of the room where he shoves him up against the wall. I can't hear what they're saying because Peeta is not shouting. He must be speaking in a very low, but dangerous, tone of voice based on the terror Karrick exudes. He stands with his back against the wall, shaking his head, trying to plead with Peeta, looking frantic as he realizes that someone knows exactly what he did, even if it can't be proven.

I flinch as Peeta puts a hand to Karrick's chest, pressing him into the wall and keeping him in place. He leans in, close enough so his lips are hovering near his ear, and then says something that makes Karrick look like he's about to faint.

After a moment, Peeta turns and walks away, leaving the coward shaking in his place, unable to move still.

Luckily, other than one of Karrick's friends, no one else has really seen or paid attention to the little scene that just unfolded. Everyone is still too busy talking loudly, too caught up in their own business to care. I make my way over to Peeta quickly, raising my eyebrows in a silent question, wanting to know what that was about.

He shrugs, but looks somewhat pleased with himself. "I just let him know even though we can't prove it I know what he did. I also told him I'd wait until he was least expecting it to return the beating."

I open my mouth to protest, not wanting Peeta to involve himself like that. It's not worth it and it doesn't help or change anything.

Before I can say something though, Peeta just laughs. "Don't worry, I don't have any plans to really go after him. I figure the fear and anticipation he'll have looking over his shoulder and waiting for it is good enough."

I grin, wanting to throw my arms around him and kiss him, but I stop myself, remembering where we are. Instead we separate again, as I make my way back to the group of boys and he joins Haymitch.

Haymitch sits at his usual fold-up table, a whiteboard in his lap, facing him. He keeps checking a wrinkled piece of paper in his hand and using a black marker to write on the board. Finally, he seems to be finished. He clears his throat to try and get our attention, but no one is listening.

Peeta notices and takes charge. "Okay, everyone gather round."

The group immediately moves towards the table, going completely silent.

"Alright, we have your standings so far in the competition after the first round. This was based on your result in hand to hand combat and the marks the judges gave you for your performances at the strength and weapons stations. This is just to give you an idea of where you're at heading into the last half of the competition tomorrow," Peeta explains.

Haymitch stands up from his seat and turns the whiteboard around so we can see what he's written. Everyone immediately pushes forward and crowds around so my view is blocked. I try and squeeze my way forward, standing on my tip toes and moving my head through the crowd to try and see.

I scan the list of 14 names and find my own positioned at number 6.

Immediately, I'm relieved. After the disaster that was my performance at the first half of the competition I was convinced that all hope I had of actually winning this thing had vanished. But it turns out I'm not totally screwed. If you had told me I would have done better than half of the boys competing before we even started I would have taken it in a heartbeat.

After staring at the list a little longer a few other things hit me as well.

I feel myself grinning in gleeful triumph when I notice Karrick and his friend Aren are ranked 8 and 9, respectively. I try and meet their eyes again, wanting to see what they have to say now, wanting them to see the smug look of satisfaction I have over outperforming them, but they just murmur quietly to themselves, looking deeply displeased and worried.

But then, I notice something else too.

The boy I fought in hand to hand combat, Ren, the one I tied, is ranked 13. I search my memory. We fought to a draw at our last station and I specifically remember him doing much better than me at the first two. If anything he should be ranked ahead of me. The thought makes me frown as I work out what to make of this.

I study him, his shoulders falling in defeat as he realizes he has no hopes of winning now with such a poor ranking after the first round. I search his face trying to figure out where I know him from. He lives in town, I'm sure of that, but I don't think he's a merchant's son. I think his father might work at the inventory station, monitoring and recording our weekly coal output for the Capitol, hardly a position of wealth or influence.

For some reason I can't explain, his poor ranking troubles me and I can't shake the odd feeling it gives me.

Peeta and Haymitch make a few more announcements before releasing us and wishing us good luck tomorrow. I linger off to the side, not wanting to be obvious, and wanting to wait until everyone is gone to approach the pair of men in charge.

Finally, when the crowd has cleared I come over to Peeta who immediately takes me in his arms, holding me close. "Six out of fourteen isn't too shabby," he whispers in my ear and I can't help but smile.

When he releases me I catch sight of Haymitch rolling his eyes at the pair of us.

"Good job sweetheart, I knew you'd give these boys a run for their money," he quips.

"Thanks..." I trail off feeling strange, feeling like I didn't exactly earn the ranking I got.

I watch as Haymitch shuffles through the mess of papers he's always carrying around. I suddenly realize that Haymitch, more than anybody, could help me sort through my sudden confusing and conflicting emotions.

"My ranking was a little...generous, don't you think?" I ask him, noting the way he tenses a little and keeps his back facing me.

"Katniss, come on, we've been over this..." Peeta starts to protest. "You're too hard on yourself."

"No, Peeta I'm not trying to be self-critical or anything," I explain, keeping my eyes trained on Haymitch. "I just didn't exactly do my best that day. And that boy...Ren, he did a lot better than me and he's practically already eliminated."

Haymitch finally turns around and eyes me carefully for a long moment. I hold his gaze, trying to read him. He sighs and runs a hand through his shaggy mess of hair.

"So are you going to ask me or not?" Haymitch finally says.

"Do I want to know?"

"I don't know, do you?"

We stare at each other, unblinking, trying to figure the other one out.

"What is going on?" Peeta breaks the silence, clearly confused by this whole thing.

Haymitch drops down into his chair at his fold-up table, looking exasperated.

"Alright, I'll give it to you straight, but only because you asked for it. And I trust you two." He looks around the huge empty room as if searching for anyone that might be hiding in the corners. "But you didn't hear this from me. And this doesn't leave this room."

Peeta and I are suddenly hanging on his every word, moving closer to him, eager to hear what he has to tell us.

"I've been running these Capitol programs since I was your age. I won my last year of school. It was a trivia competition, testing our knowledge of the history of Panem and it's districts. I kind of worked the system and found a way to get the answers ahead of time. They didn't find out until after of course, and when they did they took back the food and money from my family, leaving them to continue living in poverty. And then they stuck me with this god awful job, forever the Capitol's proxy for keeping the district in line with their programs."

Once Haymitch gets going, he doesn't stop. The words spill out of him like he's been holding this in forever, like he's been dying to share this with someone.

"Anyway, my point is, I've been around long enough to know how these things work. There's a reason why the rankings are mainly based on the judges' arbitrary opinions about your performance. They wouldn't want it decided objectively, then they couldn't control the kind of outcome they want."

I let this information sink in and slowly start to understand what he's saying. The realization of how this Capitol Competition actually works makes me queazy and suddenly I don't like being a part of it.

"They sell these programs as a way the Capitol takes care of the districts, rewards and provides for it's citizens. It couldn't be farther from the truth though. This is just how they make sure we stay dependent on them. They want us to be grateful for their generosity and hopeful that someday they'll reward us with their kindness. But they don't want us too hopeful, they like to keep us dumb and distracted. That's why everything is a big production. That's why you two don't want anyone from the Capitol finding out about your relationship - there would be nothing better to flaunt the success of their programs than young love."

My mind is racing. There are so many things I want to say right now, but the words won't come. I can't form a clear thought.

"That's the last thing you two want, trust me," Haymitch adds. "Once they get their claws in you, once the Capitol decides they want to use you for any reason, you don't really have a choice. You start out just looking for a little help, but then they ask for everything in return, your independence, your life, your future."

Haymitch shakes his head sadly, but I sense he's glad to have this weight off his chest.

I was right earlier, I realize, when I thought Haymitch was actually looking out for me, for us. He has our best interests in mind and I feel a rush of gratitude for the haggard looking man in front of me.

Finally, I find my voice.

"So I'm ranked higher than that boy Ren because..."

"Think about it, who would you rather see win? What makes a better story? Some no-name kid from Town or a girl from the Seam competing against all boys?" Haymitch asks.

I can't help but feel hurt. I naively thought at one point that maybe I could win this competition because of my abilities and skills, that I could actually outperform all these boys at any tasks asked of me. Now I know though that there will never be any fair outcome. That boy Ren never had a chance because the Capitol's judges don't think it would be very interesting if he were to win.

I feel shame and anger and a bunch of other emotions I can't quite identify. I realize now what I could never really see clearly before. The Capitol Competition was never a way to ensure Prim's safety and well-being in the future. It's just another form of oppression, like how they keep us all in poverty, except with their programs they keep us under their control.

"Thanks...for telling us this," Peeta finally says after a while. "We needed to know."

"You didn't hear it from me," Haymitch reminds us, shrugging it off. He gathers his pile of papers and a few other belongings and stands up from the table, turning to leave. He walks a few feet away and then stops, turning back to look at us.

"Be careful," he says, the concern in his eyes betraying the composed expression he tries to adopt.


We find ourselves back at the abandoned shack.

Our abandoned shack, I think, smiling sadly. This little home has become our safe haven, our space, where we come to find our moments alone together.

Peeta pulls me to the bed and we crawl on top of it together. I curl up against his side, resting my head against his chest as he leans back against the headboard of the bed.

"So...what now?" I finally say after some time.

We haven't talked about the new information Haymitch revealed to us yet and I'm curious to hear his thoughts.

He grabs my hand, trailing his thumb over my knuckles as he takes a deep breath before he begins.

"I don't know..." he says. "It definitely makes me think of everything differently now. I thought the competition was a good thing. It made me glad I was helping kids from around the district train and prepare in the hopes of maybe winning and coming away with that food and money," he shakes his head sadly, "but I guess some kids never had a chance to begin with."

Suddenly, I'm reminded of a fleeting thought I had a little while back.

"Peeta, why did you sign up to be our trainer?" I ask. "I mean I know you're good at this stuff, and to help kids win obviously, but at the Opening Ceremony Effie Trinket said you would be given the opportunity to choose your future career as a reward."

"Oh that," Peeta replies and I can't help noticing the slight flush that creeps up his neck as he looks away, "I um...well I decorate the cakes at the bakery and I don't know...I've always really liked painting and I'm pretty good at it. I wanted to hold drawing classes for people in Town or maybe even at the school."

He shrugs and looks away, trying to play it off like it's no big deal. "It's whatever, it's not exactly a lucrative career. I'm sure the Capitol won't even approve of it anyway. I just figured my chances would be better if I signed up as trainer for this thing."

I let the information sink in, reveling in the fact that Peeta has this whole other passion I knew nothing about. It makes sense. I knew there was a lot more to him than just wrestling and training.

I imagine Peeta staying up late at night and drawing in a sketchbook. I imagine how this is the one and only thing that really calls to him, that lets him express the innermost workings of his mind and soul.

Who is the Capitol to tell him whether he can or can not be allowed to do this for the rest of his life? The thought makes me furious at the injustice of it all, the control over our lives, the way they manipulate us.

"That's amazing," I tell him, reaching out and tipping his chin so he looks at me. I want to make sure he sees the sincerity behind my words, that I don't think it's dumb or silly that he wants to do that with his life. "If that's what you want to do you should do it," I tell him firmly.

He gives me a small smile and then leans in to kiss me gently.

"So what are you going to do?" He asks and I know he's referring to the competition again.

I shrug, not entirely sure. I know now that it's rigged and unfair, but what exactly am I suppose to do? If I win, I win and Prim will benefit from that reward of money and food. I don't exactly want to just drop out now with that still a real possibility. Especially since I have a more than good shot at actually succeeding apparently.

"I guess I'm going to have to finish what I started," I reply, even as the feelings of dread and unease creep into my subconscious now that I know what kind of game the Capitol is playing.

Maybe it won't be so bad. As long as I don't do anything to upset the Capitol like Haymitch did I'll be fine. There won't be any reason for them to ever take back the food and money from Prim and my mother. Even if it means I knowingly played along with their unjust programs and reaped the benefits while others were unfairly tossed to the side and forced to continue living in poverty. I'll push away the guilt with reminders that Prim will never go hungry again.

And that seems like a good plan, a great plan even. I'm ready to go along with it, hoping to finish this competition and be free from the clutches of the Capitol forever.

But all those hopes go out the window when, at the final part of the competition the next day, I show up only to discover that somehow Effie Trinket has gotten wind of Peeta and I's relationship.