Disclaimer: The Hunger Games is not mine.

Note: Thank you to nevergone4ever and Ariem for Camryn and Evo, respectively, and to Jael . Rice . 1 and upsettomcat42 for Ravi and Merril.


District Six
Want


Merril Keenbrand, 41
Victor of the 51st Hunger Games

They couldn't really be planning something.

Merril watched silently as District Five's reapings played on the screen. Part of him hadn't wanted to watch the reapings – any of them – but part of him knew that, if it happened to be him going back into the Games, any sort of a head start was a good thing. And knowing which of the other Victors would be going in, as well … well, it couldn't hurt to know the competition.

Competition. Merril flinched at the word. He'd been mentoring long enough to know a good number of the other Victors. Some of them were a bit abrasive – harsh, even – but most of them meant well, or were too scarred by their own Games to be aware of just how rude and uncaring they could be. And some of them, he considered friends.

Quite a few of them, now that he thought about it.

He hadn't gone into his first Games with friends. Allies, yes, but that hadn't lasted long, and there had always been a certain understanding that that sort of friendship could only be temporarily. But once he had survived the Games, he had put all of that behind him. His fellow Victors had become a security net of sorts – people he could get close to. People who, he had thought, would always be there for each other, even if the rest of the district wasn't quite sure what to do with them.

But how could they be there for each other now?

Merril watched as Shyanne and Valion exchanged a hug rather than the customary handshake. How could the Capitol expect either of them to kill each other? How could they expect any of them to kill each other?

Maybe Rufus had the right idea.

But what did he hope to accomplish? Making a bit of a scene during the reapings was one thing, but beneath all the bluster and the plans and the scheming, what did he really think the Capitol was going to do if the Victors tried to stage some sort of protest, some sort of refusal to play the Games? Rufus had lost his own sister to the Games, and he still didn't understand.

They had nothing to bargain with.

Maybe they had a little influence, here and there. A little say in events in their own districts. But their influence, their access to any sort of authority, only stretched as far as the Capitol allowed. Victors in more trustworthy districts – One, Two, maybe even Four – had a little more pull. But not enough. Not enough to make any sort of difference. They simply had too little to offer the Capitol.

And far too much to lose.

Merril shook his head, trying not to think about that. About his fellow Victors in District Six. Camryn had her husband, Kyler, only recently wed. Merill had his father, now older and quite dependent on Merril's income as a Victor. Ada had her husband and her daughter, Audrey, and the trio had accepted their oldest Victor, Ravi, as an honorary grandfather. And Evo … Well, he had his brother, at least. And he knew better than anyone the dangers of defying the Capitol.

Merril switched the screen off and returned to pacing back and forth. Whatever Rufus was planning, he and his fellow Victors in Six would want no part of it. They all had too much to lose. Too many people they cared about. Too many people the Capitol could use to hurt them.

And the Capitol certainly wouldn't hesitate. They weren't like some of the other Victors. None of them were especially well-liked in the Capitol. None of them had Galen's charm or Aras' charisma or Shyanne's spunk. For the most part, they were ignored.

And, most of the time, that was exactly how Merril preferred it. The spotlight, after all, came with its own dangers, as well. Even during his own Games, he had never been one to crave attention. He had survived. He had done what he had to do. And then, like most Victors, he had tried to find a way to move on.

Which was easier said than done, of course, but, most of the time, he was fairly satisfied with the results. His life wasn't perfect, but whose was? And he had always assumed, like so many other Victors, that as long as he kept his head down and didn't cause any trouble, he would be safe.

They had all been wrong.

But fighting it would only make things worse. Would only get more people killed. No, the only thing to do now was go along with it and hope for the best.

Because what made this year any different than any other year, really? Why was it worse to send them back into the Games than it was to send twenty-three children to their deaths? Just because most of the tributes this year would already know each other and had already lived through the Games once didn't make it any worse – not objectively. Twenty-three people would die. One would live.

Just like any other year.

Merril shook his head. It was a somewhat lazy argument, but it would do. It was enough, for the moment, to convince him to make his way out the door and to the square, where, sure enough, his fellow Victors had gathered obediently onstage. Ravi sat in the center beside Ada. Camryn sat beside Ada, Evo beside Ravi. Merril nodded and took his place beside Evo, who merely grunted in response to Merril's greeting.

Not that Merril blamed him. Not that he blamed any of them, really. Even Rufus. They all had every right to be upset. But most of them had the sense not to appear angry or resentful – at least, not in front of the Capitol.

And they were, in fact, in front of the Capitol. Every camera in the square was trained on them. Watching. Waiting. Waiting to see what they would do.

But no one did anything. No one objected as their escort, Tiago Monger, joined them onstage, grinning as usual. No one voiced even a single word of protest as he approached the first reaping bowl, which held only two names.

Ada and Camryn. Merril watched silently along with the rest of the district. He could still remember both of their Games clearly. Ada had won eight years before him, Camryn eight years after. Both had barely made it out alive the first time – and a good part of that had been luck. If one of them was picked…

When one of them was picked. Because it had to be one of them. Merril held his breath as Tiago dipped his hand into the bowl and removed a single slip of paper. Slowly, he unfolded it. "Camryn Cartier!"

Slowly, Camryn stood up, biting her lip, staring at the ground. Silently, she took a few steps towards Tiago, still not looking out at the crowd. Not looking at her family. Trying desperately not to do anything that might be perceived as defiance. She couldn't afford to.

None of them could.

Satisfied, Tiago turned his attention to the next bowl. Merril tensed, his fingers drumming uncontrollably on the arm of his chair. What if Tiago chose him? What if he had to go back into the Games? Would he be as calm as Camryn?

Somehow, he doubted it.

Tiago tried to make a show of reaching into the second bowl, but even he couldn't draw out the ritual as he normally did, stirring the papers around a little before choosing one. There were only three names, and, soon, his fingers closed around one. Slowly, he drew it out and unfolded it. "Evo Ortega!"

Merril took a deep breath. Then another. It wasn't him. It wasn't him.

Beside him, Evo nodded a little, and Merril thought, for a moment, that he was almost smiling. Maybe he had misheard. But then Evo stood up, slowly, calmly. Ravi opened his mouth as if to say something, but Evo shook his head, and that was the end of the matter. He took his place beside Camryn and held out his hand. Camryn was trembling as the two shook hands, but she managed to maintain her composure until the cameras were switched off.

Immediately, Ada raced off the stage and into her husband's arms, her daughter Audrey wrapping her arms around them both. Merril glanced at Ravi, who was smiling a little despite everything. "Let them be. It's you and me this year, Merril."

Evo nodded, placing a hand on Camryn's back. "You can have Ravi, if you like. I'll take Twitchy over here." He nodded towards Merril.

Merril cringed. He wasn't twitchy. Well, not really. Okay, maybe he was, but did Evo really have to point it out?

Merril shook the thought from his head. Evo was trying to be kind – trying to give Camryn a better chance. Ravi had brought home three tributes, after all – including both Evo and Camryn the first time around, while, so far, Merril had been unsuccessful as a mentor. Merril nodded to Evo. "Fine with me." Camryn and Ravi both nodded.

If only the Games could be that simple.

Merril turned to Ravi as Evo and Camryn were led off to the justice building. "Don't mind Evo," Ravi suggested. "We're all a bit on edge."

"He's got a reason to be," Merril admitted. "Were you … were you going to volunteer for him?"

Ravi shook his head. "I don't know," he admitted. "I just thought … well, I'm getting on, you know. Better me than…" He trailed off. "But Evo's not really the sort to want anyone else dying for him, I suppose."

Merril nodded a little. He didn't know Evo particularly well. Maybe no one did. But he did know that if Ravi had offered to take his place in the Games, he certainly wouldn't have said no.

Did that mean Evo wanted to go back?


Evo Ortega, 59
Victor of the 32nd Hunger Games

They'd wanted this for a long time.

Evo shook his head as his brother closed the door behind him. He wasn't expecting anyone else. No one else who would miss him. Even his brother would get along fine. Maybe Evo's death would even be a relief for him, and he could finally move on with his own life.

And Evo could finally be with his sister again.

Evo leaned back in his chair. That was the Capitol's plan, of course. How long had they been waiting for a good excuse to kill him? Killing his sister Maria hadn't been enough. Putting him through the Games once hadn't been enough. Maybe now they finally had the guts to just end it.

And maybe that was for the best.

He'd thought about ending it himself, often enough. But part of him knew – part of him had always known – that Maria would have never wanted him to take his own life. But this – this was beyond his control. If he happened to die in the Games … well, that was the whole point of the Games, wasn't it?

But he wasn't going down without a fight.

Evo clenched his fists. That was exactly what the Capitol wanted, of course: a fight. But what was he supposed to do? Just lie down and die? No. No, he hadn't been willing to do that forty-three years ago. And he wouldn't do it now. He would fight for every moment, every breath, every drop of blood.

But he would lose.

That much had already been decided. Victors like him were the reason for the Quell, after all. People who had been a nuisance. People who hadn't had the sense to die when they were supposed to. People the Capitol wanted dead.

And the Capitol always got what they wanted.

Sometimes they took their time. Sometimes they waited years – even decades. Until his name didn't mean anything to most people even in his own district, and his sister had been all but forgotten. Except by him.

But when he was gone, who would remember?

Ravi. Ravi would remember. The sentimental old man had wanted to volunteer for him, but that was the one thing he couldn't allow. He didn't need any more ghosts. He wouldn't stand for one more of his friends to die on his account.

So he would just have to kill the ones who weren't his friends.


Camryn Cartier, 34
Victor of the 57th Hunger Games

Why did they still want to kill her?

Camryn held her husband Kyler as tightly as she could, as if by holding onto him she could hold onto her life in District Six a little longer. "I did everything they wanted," she whispered. "Everything. I…"

"I know," Kyler echoed soothingly. "I know. They're not after you – not really. You had a fifty-fifty chance, and…" He trailed off, unable to say the rest. She'd had a fifty-fifty chance. And she had lost. She had lost everything.

It wasn't fair.

She didn't deserve this. She wasn't like Evo, who would go off on rants about the Capitol every now and then because he figured he had nothing left to lose. Maybe she would have done the same thing once – maybe she even had, once or twice during her Games – but she had learned. She knew better now.

So why were they still punishing her?

"You can do this," Kyler insisted. His voice was a bit shaky, but he was trying to stay calm. Trying to hold it together for her sake. Just like she was trying to do for him.

But how long could they keep pretending?

She had won her first Games by a stroke of luck – and the blind loyalty of an ally. She couldn't count on the same thing happening again. And if she didn't make it back…

Life would go on. She would see to that. Even if she didn't make it back, she couldn't afford to do anything that might turn the Capitol against her family. Her family's best chance – and her best chance, as well – was for her to play along with what the Capitol wanted.

Camryn shook her head. The thought made her sick. She'd only killed one tribute in her own Games – and by accident, even then – but she'd seen more than enough death. Enough to last a lifetime.

But apparently the Capitol didn't agree. Apparently, they could never have quite enough death. Seventy-five years, and they still hadn't tired of watching people kill each other. Maybe it was disgusting. Despicable. But it was the way things were.

And she didn't dare do what it would take to change it.


"What I don't comprehend is why you want me dead. No. No, let me rephrase that. It would satisfy my curiosity to know why you should go to such extraordinary lengths to kill me."