Will update Johanna this weekend probably-having house issues.

All bolded passages in the story are taken directly from the books and are not mine. I am not Suzanne Collins, to my everlasting shame. To explain further, the passages are used to show how this story is similar to the books but different. The passages often appear in places where they were not used in the books and at odd times to show the different contexts the passages can be taken in. In the end though, they're there to say something that I could not paraphrase as well.

Everyone's eyes were on us as we smoldered during Snow's speech about the Rebellion. As one, Haymitch and I had looked at him with cold, unflinching gazes. It was stupid to taunt him, but he'd already taken everything from me—my life, my family, Gale, Peeta, Aria….All I had left was my courage, as fleeting and dismal as that was. From Haymitch's hand I drew strength—realized that I'd been drawing strength from him for a long time now.

Back at the Tribute Center, I let go of his hand and step down. I think of how terrible tomorrow will be for him—he'll know everyone. He will be the only person to have been in two Quarter Quells…he'd survived against fourty-seven others. The odds weren't in his favor then and they weren't now. I don't know how he c-

Peeta's standing a few feet away, his eyes blazing blue in his pale face. My heart thuds heavily in my chest and my dress sparks up, burning hot and fierce making the firelight dance on his face. Cinna must have made it that way on purpose—tied to my feelings. I try to stop the heat that comes to my face as everyone looks at me looking at him.

I burn for him.

He smiles and pulls me into his arms briefly, I hear Johanna snickering closeby as he let's go of me. "You were both magnificent."

"Yes!" Effie claps her hands in delight as she kisses my cheek. "You were both so stunning!" I glance at Haymitch who's looking at his hands, but his outfit flickers briefly. I barely suppress my own smile.

Effie chatters on and on as we make our way to the elevators. Johanna is stark naked again, talking with Haymitch's old drinking buddy Chaff from Eleven while Finnick stands peering cautiously into Enobaria's mouth. The wicked glint of her pointed teeth are still evident from where I am. The animalistic look to them makes me reach for an arrow before I remember I'm unarmed. There will be time enough to kill her later.

Easy as that, I'm thinking about how to kill the people around me. Tomorrow, I'll watch their skills and judge their weaknesses as they will mine. The doors close on the elevator right as Cashmere presses in. Her blond hair hangs in ringlets down past her shoulders as she frowns at me. She's heavier than I am, her body is curved and toned. Her face is nearly as made up as my own.

"Now's not the time," Haymitch says as he touches her arm.

She jerks away from him, her muscles taut as her eyes dart to him. "Don't touch me," she says in a hiss. Her eyes come back to mine, "You couldn't leave well enough alone could you? You're killing us all. We were fine before you!" Her voice rises. "We could have lived long lives without you. I wish you had died in that arena!" A single tear falls down her face.

"I didn't ask for this."

"No but you took it," her voice is toneless and dead. "The Capitol took our dignity and our freedom, but they let us live! We made deals so our families would be safe and you took all that away."

My own voice rises, "I only did what I did for my sister!"

"And I did the same for mine," she says. "But now there's nothing to go back to. My brother is here, my parents and sisters are gone. You took everything." Haymitch and Effie grab her arms and pull her off at a random stop. Peeta and I stand there alone in the aftershocks of her words.

"She's right," my voice breaks the stillness. "It's all my fault." We're all going to die because of me.

"No," Peeta's hand finds mine and my outfit blazes up in the dim elevator lights. "I don't think it is. I don't think we could have stopped it no matter what we did. But if it was your fault, it would be mine too." I touch his face gently and he leans into the palm of my hand. "We don't have much time left. I don't want to waste it."

The pain is clear in his eyes, sharp and bright. What have I done to you? I was going where he couldn't follow, where he can't protect me. I will be free to do what I must to save him. It's a terrible thing to realize that your death is the only way to save something you love—everything you love. But would it be enough?

As I always do when I see the pain in his eyes, I kiss him. Our lips touch and beneath my closed eyelids I can see the bright flames of my dress consuming me. My pulse throbs in places a pulse shouldn't throb and I squeeze my thighs tightly together at the pleasant warmth beginning there.

We stumble out of the elevator and into the hall. A vase smashes in the same place I threw one at him a year ago. I push him back on the table and he rucks up my dress above my thighs. His lips tug and pull at mine fiercely. My hands grip his hair and pull at it until he moans. I don't care if anyone is coming—if Haymitch or Effie sees. Let them watch if they want—all I want is Peeta.

I climb on the table with him to straddle him, the warmth of him touching me feels as though it sears my skin. I bite into his shoulder as I lower myself on him. He moves swiftly—and everything happens fast. There's a loud crack and we are on the floor. He holds onto me somehow and we pull ourselves back together amongst the ruins of the table, laughing. He kisses my eyelids and then my neck. I can hear someone coming, but I ignore it—ignore everything but the touch of him—the feeling of fire coursing through my veins. My knees dig into the carpet over him and grip his shoulders hard. I moan as his lips find the soft skin of my throat.

I give myself to him wholly, blotting out the scents and sounds of the Capitol. Tears stream down my face into his hair as he pushes his hips up into mine. The slow, steady friction of our skin makes me shiver and then shake with pleasant sensations. We go together, the flames of my dress flaring so brightly that it makes my eyes burn. He shudders and then I roll boneless to the floor beside him.

We are ashes and embers as we lay there. No words need to pass between us—no words really can relate what I feel more than what we just did. My body aches for him though I've just had him, it's like Haymitch going through withdrawal. I want to consume Peeta and never tear my flesh away from his. I want to live forever with him inside of me, our bodies always joined. Maybe in some small way I can live on in him after I'm gone?

"What the hell happened here?" Haymitch stands at the end of the hallway surveying what must be a spectacle—Peeta and I half undressed amongst shards of wood and porcelain.

Effie's eyebrows raise alarmingly as I pull down my dress. "Do we need to draw you a picture?" Peeta says. My face flushes hotly.

"Pretty sure you already did," Haymitch says as Effie giggles. He turns to Effie, his suit blazing up. "Want a nightcap?"

"I'd be delighted," she pushes the door to his room open and heads in.

Haymitch looks at us a moment, "Clean this mess up." His cheeks are colored up as he goes into his room and shuts the door.

Peeta laughs as he starts to pick up pieces of debris. "What?" I ask.

"Haymitch isn't drinking anymore so…I guess, Effie's the nightcap."

I blush scarlet and busy myself with picking up shards of porcelain.

"You need to think of an alliance," Peeta ties his shoes beside me as I smooth my braid over my shoulder.

"No. Just me and Haymitch, no extra baggage." I think of Cashmere's eyes blazing up at me with hate. The other Victors must feel the same.

"It'll get you more sponsors."

"I don't care. We don't need them."

"Katniss."

"No, I can't do it. Not again." Sing them to death little Mockingjay. Rue floats up in my mind, fragrantly covered in flowers.

"Haymitch is lying to you," I turn to him as he speaks. "He promised me that he'd send you back out of the arena—that he'll die to save you. He's lying to one of us, Katniss."

Haymitch—man of his word or…not. Would he do that? Would he sacrifice himself to save me in the end? He knew my intentions just as Peeta has put together without my telling him. His words cast doubt on the fragile safety I've planned for Peeta. If I live then he'll never be safe. "He'd never lie to me," I say with more conviction than I feel.

We let the argument lapse into silence. You can really only go over it so many times until you've said all the same words over and over again. Don't leave me. I wanted to go with you. You'll be safe. I love you, I'd rather die. You're killing me. I won't live without you. You'll be okay. I'll never be okay again. Haymitch will. Haymitch won't. Live. Die. Repeat. Over and over again the mantra fills my head.. The ghosts of those arguments float around and haunt us in our silence.

Without another word, I head to the elevators to the Training Center. There's an awkward moment in the hall when I see Effie kissing Haymitch in the door to his room. He disentangles himself and heads to the elevator with me, my cheeks burning crimson. "How long?" I asked.

He shrugs in that noncommittal way. "Doesn't matter, does it?" It doesn't aside from my curiosity.

"Guess not."

In the Training Center, hardly anyone has arrived yet. Only Brutus and the woman from District 2, Enobaria, are present. No one else, not even the other careers have felt the need to be on time. Haymitch nods to Brutus who seems to be eyeing him with a considerable look of malice on his face. We listen to the little speech as more of the Victors drift in, but by the time we're released to our stations only about half of us are there.

"Make nice Katniss, we need them." Haymitch glances over each of the other Victors in a cool appraising way.

"No, I don't want anyone else with us."

"It's not just your choice though, is it sweetheart?" He's right. With all I've asked of him, at least I can try. I nod to him and set off across the room.

I spend my time going over knots. Each time I master one, I move on to another. Something about the focus and rhythm of it makes my mind go blank. I become the knots I tie and lose myself for awhile before I realize Finnick is watching me. He's perfectly still, his bronze hair and skin shining in the light in that fallen angel look he wears so well.

"You're very nimble," his voice is kind with no hint of implication in his words.

"You could do them better."

He tilts his head looking at me before flashing his brilliant white teeth. "Knots. They'll do a lot of good in the arena. What if the whole thing is a giant net? Whoever unties themselves the quickest wins." He laughs, but it doesn't sound like he's joking.

I leave him standing there and go to the fire station. Even though I'm familiar with the woods, I find it nearly impossible to light a fire without matches or coal. It takes an hour of hard work for me to get a spark to catch in the wood. I won't have that much time in the arena.

The pair from District 3 are working quietly at the same station, their heads bent together talking. They are both small with intelligent faces. The woman seems to be vacant, her attempt at starting a conversation goes off track when she forgets what she's saying in the middle of her sentence.

"Beetee Latier," the man from three says as he reaches out a hand to me while adjusting his glasses. "This is Wiress Curae."

"Katniss," I say as I shake his hand.

"Of course," he smiles making me blush realizing how foolish I sounded. "Very noble thing Haymitch did."

"Yes," I bend my head over the kindling as I answer. "Noble."

"You don't agree?" There's an odd lilt in his voice that makes me look up.

"Of course I agree. He volunteered for Peeta. I owe him everything."

"Hmmm," he says. "Starcrossed lovers."

"Romeo and Juliet," Wiress chimes in.

"Yes, just so. But the story will be different this time won't it? Peeta saved from the arena with Katniss fighting to come back to him." I don't know who Romeo and Juliet are, but both of them seem familiar with them.

"Were they Victors too?"

"No," Wiress blinks at me. "She faked her death to stop their families from feuding but the letter…." She drifts off again.

Beetee's rich voice picks up the story. "The letter went amiss and Romeo didn't know she had faked her death. Lying there as cold as death, he drank poison to join her. She awakes to find him dead beside her and kills herself to join him. They were star-crossed lovers too."

"No happy endings," Wiress says a bit breathless.

"Some things don't change," I say. My stomach churns at the story and my mind brings up that old song again, about a man calling his love to death with him. With each passing day, I understand the sentiment more and more.

"Kind of like you two with the berries," Beetee's voice is so soft that I think I've imagined him speaking.

Wiress stops and gazes up at the stands where the Gamemakers are roaming around, eating and drinking, sometimes taking notice of us. "Look,'" she says giving her head a slight nod in their direction. I look up to see Plutrarch Heavensbee in the magnificent purple robe with the fur-trimmed collar that designates him as Head Gamemaker. "There by the corner of the table. You can just…" says Wiress.

Beetee squints under his glasses. "Just make it out."

I stare in that direction, perplexed. But then I see it. A patch of space about six inches square at the corner of the table seems almost to be vibrating. It's as if the air is rippling in tiny visible waves, distorting the sharp edges of the wood and a goblet of wine someone has set there.

"Curious," Beetee adjusts his glasses again and smiles. Haymitch as told me how famous they both are for their inventions. Beetee, in fact, is the one who made the current that dries my hair when I step out of the shower.

Not wanting to talk about more of the foolish things I've done like shooting at Gamemakers with my bow and arrow, I ask Beetee a question. "Do all force fields have a spot like that?"

"Chink," says Wiress vaguely.

"In the armor, as it were," finishes Beetee. "Ideally it'd be invisible, wouldn't it? But they're only human after all. Small flaws like that remind us of that."

I don't really agree about their human like tendencies, but I nod anyways. The old woman from Four joins us. She walks slowly and her hair is almost snow white. Her face is wrinkled and grandmotherly. She must be at least eighty years old, but her hands are nimble as she makes a fire in minutes. She's equally adept at snares. I feel myself drawn to her though I can't understand a word of her garbled speech. It's evident that at some point she's had a stroke though she's mostly recovered. It's wrong that she should be here for the Games, but then I remember why—how she volunteered to replace the young, hysterical woman in her district. It couldn't be because she thought she had any chance of winning. She did it to save the girl, just like I volunteered last year to save Prim.

I hate the Games more than ever. Beetee tells me the woman's name is Mags and that the mad girl Annie was pregnant, due in four or five months. My hands instinctively touch my stomach and I see Beetee's eyebrows knit together. I recover hastily and say the first thing that pops into my mind. "It's almost lunch isn't it?"

Possibly the stupidest thing I've ever said.

I wonder who is the father of Annie Cresta's baby?

Lunch winds up being a much bigger deal that last year. I'm forced to sit family style with all the Victors at one long table. I'm the only one who finds it strange to eat and joke so lightly with people I'm planning to kill—no one else seems much phased by it. Cashmere asks Cecelia about her children while Gloss and Finnick talk about a delicious new dessert. Haymitch and Chaff joke loudly and lewdly while Seeder keeps the old man from Eight named Wolf from chewing the broken stem of his glass. Mags listens intently to Enobaria talking about her pet cat.

I can't stand it. I can't stand seeing them as human beings. I don't like that they are becoming real people in my mind instead of obstacles in my way. All of them must die for me to get Haymitch home—sweet Mags, motherly Cecelia, senile Woof, and brilliant Beetee and Wiress. Johanna looks at Finnick in this open way that seems to call him to her. He turns to her and he smiles as he squeezes her hand as some unspoken communication passes between them.

And the more I come to know these people, the worse it is. Because, on the whole, I don't hate them. And some I like. And a lot of them are so damaged that my natural instinct would be to protect them. But all of them must die if I'm to save Haymitch.

All of them dead, that's what I want. I push myself back from the table and go into the bathroom, violently sick. I retch until I'm too weary to think about what it will cost me to kill them for Haymitch—if he will even let me. How much evil can I commit to save Haymitch? How far can I go to save him?

I close my eyes because it makes me sick to know that I will do it when it comes to it. I will kill them all.

When training starts back up, I feel the white hot rage coursing through me. I want to be in my own woods back home, I want to be able to scream like Gale does when he's mad. Gale did. Because the things Gale will do or won't do have nothing to do with me anymore.

I configure the simulation without really thinking of anything but release. When it begins, I am swept away. The running and moving targets are the only things that matter. I nock arrow after arrow, timing my shots for impact. I don't miss once though my shoulders burn as I constantly tug out new arrows. The last target flees from me and I nock the last arrow. I let the target lead as I take a steadying breath and he goes down a hundred yards away.

Sweat runs down my neck as I turn to see all the Victors staring at me. Finnick looks incredulous, Mags triumphant, and Haymitch looks like stone gargoyle. I can see looks that range from envy and disdain to outright amazement.

Now they all know what I'm capable of.