So here we are. Time to start The Hunger Games. I'm so excited! I hope you are too! Once again I would like to thank everyone for the wonderful reviews and encouragement! And thanks for sticking around and reading my fic! You all rule! Ok so lets jump in and see how our Peeta does!

The Games Begin:

Day 1

The incessant droning of the hovercraft was overpowering all thoughts that rushed through Peeta's brain, which were threatening to erupt in an explosion of volcanic proportions. The ride was about an hour and with neither Katniss nor Cato on the craft with him he felt especially alone and vulnerable. A woman injected into his forearm his tracker and then left him to sit among the other tributes in silence and dread. It hung in the air around them like a harsh humidity, soaking them through to bone. One of the younger tributes was crying for his mother and Peeta wished he had a family member to cry for.

When they arrived at the catacombs beneath the Arena he was escorted along with Portia to his launch room. There was one last extravagant breakfast laid out for him, but he only picked at it meekly. Popping a few blueberries into his mouth with dejection, the sweetness that exploded in his mouth an odd combination with the fear that tartly poisoned his tongue and dried out his throat.

"Peeta, this may be your last meal for a while. Please eat up."

He realized she was right and started shoveling as much as he could into his mouth, hoping he wouldn't vomit from the nerves wracking his body. This would be the only time this room was used. Every year a different arena was made, the old preserved as a historical artifact. People would one day come through here on a tour and whisper about how this was the room that boy on fire launched from, the gay tribute from 12, who was in a star-crossed romance with someone else in the games. He was sure they would eat it up.

He wished he could have seen Cato one last time. After the interview he had looked all around for Cato's face, but he was already gone and Peeta couldn't help the feeling of a stinging slap to the face it left. Did Cato hate what he had done? He considered trying to sneak into District 2's living quarters, but thought better of it. It was their last night before the games. They needed rest. He may need time alone to prepare for tomorrow, even though they may never get the chance to be together again. Peeta just had to be content with the amazing night Cato had given him. It was more than he could have ever dreamed before these games started. And Peeta sort of needed the time alone too, to recap what exactly he had just done.

Come out to all of Panem. That was what he had done. Now everyone back home in District 12 was probably already abandoning him as a symbol of his or her hope. Disgusted by his revelation and probably hoping for his swift death in the opening minutes of the Hunger Games. His mother and brothers had probably openly disowned him by now, throwing their support behind Katniss, while his father remained as disinterested as ever.

No one really talked about it once they were back to the penthouse last night. Haymitch just gripped his shoulder tightly, and then went to the bar and grabbed a whole bottle of liquor, disappearing to his room, leaving Katniss and Peeta in extreme disappointment. He had promised! They needed him now more than ever once these games start.

Effie congratulated him on a spectacular interview and then went her separate way too. Leaving Katniss who just looked at Peeta with a sad smile and said, "Well I guess that's it then. Isn't it?"

He had looked back at her with a shrug, "Yeah." He was just as unsure what to do. What do you say to someone when you know this could be the last night of their life? Of your life? So they both headed to their rooms and tried to shut out the sounds of the Capitol citizens partying in the streets below them. Celebrating the last night before the games started and innocent lives would be lost.

In the early morning hours, before the sun had risen in the eastern horizon and brought with it the promise of death, Haymitch and Effie gathered their two tributes. It was an uncomfortable affair. Effie, in a somber blue wig and flesh colored pantsuit, looked like she just might cry and Peeta wondered if it was because she was happy to finally have two tributes in the games that had a fighting chance or she had actually come to care for them.

"Thank you for being the best tributes I have had the pleasure of sponsoring and may the odds be ever in your favor…" Effie blew her nose into her beige handkerchief.

Peeta had to avert his eyes; he couldn't deal with the situation before him. If he acknowledged it he wasn't certain what he would do.

Haymitch shook both his and Katniss' hands tightly and Peeta was pleasantly surprised to find completely sober eyes that stared back. Did he not touch the liquor from last night? Had he restrained himself and actually kept his promise? Peeta hoped this meant their mentor would be fully engaged once the games started, because god knows they would need all the sponsors they could get.

"District 12 has never had a finer pair of tributes. Stay alive and remember, run when you hear that gong. Do not engage in the bloodbath." Haymitch then stepped aside as two Peacekeepers came and collected Katniss and Peeta. They were finally leaving the prison the Capitol had sentenced them to for the past week, but only to be lead to them to the final detention center where they'd face the death penalty.

Portia helped Peeta dress into his outfit for the games. It was very simple, undergarments, covered in ocher pants of a light but durable material, a belt, comfortable leather boots, and a black hooded jacket with the number 12 boldly embroidered on the back. As Portia finished tucking him into his jacket she warned him of the most likely cold nights and not to loose the jacket.

Then she pulled out a small gold pin. He looked at Portia in disbelief, "Where did you get that?"

He thought he had lost Riece's mockingjay pin the first night he got it. "I found it in your clothes from the train. I thought it could be your district token, so I took it to the Gamemakers to get it approved. Almost didn't make it because of the needle, but it passed. Now test your clothes for me."

Peeta squatted, ran around, and stretched his arms all about. "Yeah, all f-fine." He stuttered, his nerves creeping in, threatening to blacken out everything else.

Portia asked, "Would you like more food? To talk?"

Peeta just shook his head. He didn't want to do any of this. He was such a fool for volunteering for this. It was too much to handle. How could they expect any teenager to face this? He paced nervously, bracing for the call. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I could be dead in a few short minutes. Katniss. Cato… He wanted to scream, rage, and throw things. Why was the Capitol doing this? Was it really worth it anymore? 73 years of Hunger Games, 23 dead a year, except for the 50th quarter quell when 47 died. He had done the math and figured out 1,704 teenage lives had been lost and televised for the entertainment of the Capitol. Peeta would just be one more body in the ever-growing count, it would never end.

He didn't know anymore if he was ready to die. Not after having Cato. He lit a fuse in Peeta. He made him feel things he never thought he would feel before and now he was going to loose it all. He thought to what Katniss must be going through with Cinna in her launch room. Or what Cato must be experiencing. Were they just as terrified?

Seneca Crane's calm voice announced, "Time to prepare for launch."

Portia helped guide Peeta over to the launch pad as he began to shake fiercely. "P-Portia…"

She cupped his face briefly and tried to calm him, to take some of his burden, but he could see the sorrow in her eyes too. "Remember what Haymitch said. Run, do not engage in the bloodbath. Find water immediately. You can do this, my boy on fire."

He let out a strangled sob as a glass cylinder slid down from the ceiling, encasing him inside. He felt appallingly claustrophobic in the narrow tube. Portia separated from him, the glass like a cruel knife slicing from him the possibilities of a long and prosperous life. She looked at him with nothing but pride in her eyes and he tried to look back with strength, but it was a struggle.

Suddenly the cylinder began to rise. Peeta tried to stand straight as possible as he was enveloped in darkness. A light was shinning above him, but it did not offer the promise of salvation, quite the opposite. He yearned for an escape, a way to not have to do this. Death and killing was about to be all around him, about to become his life. The nausea threatened to return with a vengeance and he fought to keep it at bay. There was nothing to do but stand in the tiny enclosure and battle his emotions while he rose to the surface.

As he rose into the light he was blinded. He was only conscious of what his other senses could pick up, like the wind against his body or the smell of pine needles. This must be a forest, like the one outside his district. He could handle that, no water to drown in at least.

"Ladies and gentlemen, let the Seventy-fourth annual Hunger Games begin!" Claudius Templesmith's voice boomed across the field.

Peeta could now see all 24 tributes arranged in a curved line a good distance from the golden Cornucopia. They had sixty seconds, indicated by a ticking clock atop the Cornucopia. As the clock shed each second Peeta felt a daunting pressure building in his temple. He swallowed the bile in his throat and forced his body to come alive and take control of the tremors that threatened to keep him immobilized.

He glanced around. Katniss was about four people over from him. Cato was even further; he couldn't even make out those hazel eyes. But he had a fierce look of determination. He was going to run straight into the bloodbath for weapons. Peeta's heart dropped into his stomach at the thought.

40 seconds.

Peeta noticed how most of the powerful weapons and useful items like medicine and food were clustered around the mouth of the Cornucopia and then spread out in less frequency towards the tributes. He spotted a bow and arrow in the Cornucopia, spears, swords and knives, various types of axes, and a large iron war hammer. Then a backpack, only 10 yards from him. He could get something. He knew it. And if he could get hold of one of those weapons maybe he stood a real chance.

23 seconds.

He looked to his right and there were the woods, to his left a lake, and behind the Cornucopia a large field of wheat maybe, the long stalks swayed gently in the breeze. He dared not look behind him, not with-

10 seconds.

He looked at Cato one last time and sent a prayer out to nothing in particular, please be okay. A bead of sweat dripped down from Peeta's brow and over his nose. It tickled and he wished to wipe it away, but…

6 seconds.

He caught Katniss staring at him as he scanned the items strewn out before the tributes and she shook her head. No, she was telling him. Run, like Haymitch said.

3

2

1.

The gong rang out and it hit Peeta like a truck. He hesitated. Katniss had thrown him off. Fuck. But he still decided to go for it. He ran with the other tributes towards the nearest useful item as they all scattered, towards the Cornucopia for weapons or towards some plastic sheeting or off into the woods. The backpack, thats what Peeta had set his sights on. He didn't know what would be inside it, but it would be better than nothing, he knew it. The weapons were off the table now.

Suddenly he heard a guttural scream and looked up. The bloodbath had begun. A girl, possibly from 10, had just been struck down. A boy with a machete had amputated one of her arms and Peeta couldn't peel his eyes away from the lifeless limb bleeding out onto the grass. He had seen things like this on his television at home when watching the games, but this was real, in three-dimension and right before his very eyes. Not an image being broadcast miles away to the safety of his home. Then the boy swung his bloodied blade down with a cry as it connected in a sickening sound to her skull, cleaving it open, blood everywhere and exposing pink brain tissue.

Soon there were cries of pain and fear all around. The harsh sound of metal against metal or worse, flesh. A younger boy let out a bloodcurdling scream as a knife, thrown by Clove, sank deep into his back, he then fell to the ground in convulsions.

Peeta swooped up the backpack before anyone else got it, only to fall back, startled as a knife was flung into it. He looked up to see a sadistic smile on Clove's face as she stalked towards Peeta. Gripping another knife in her hand, taking aim.

But suddenly the girl from 3 had tackled her and was trying to fight the knife away from Clove for herself. She was larger than Clove and probably thought she could take her. But Clove was faster and better trained; slitting her throat open in one swift motion, deep red spattering Clove's face. She wiped it off with her arm in a proud smirk, not even flinching.

But Peeta had already taken off in a dead heat, knowing he couldn't stay here any longer. He hadn't seen where Katniss went, but figured she would be in the woods like Haymitch said.

Peeta wasn't fast enough to make the entrance of the wood though. Stasson had picked the large war hammer from inside the Cornucopia and was using it to smash in the face of a boy tribute from 7, the sleek and shiny surface of Stasson's hammer gleamed with the gore of his victim. The sound of bone shattering and crunching to mush with each impact to the boys face was so loud and revolting it chilled Peeta to the core and made him stumble.

Stasson looked up in triumph and pointed with the large hammer at Peeta, flesh from 7's face stuck to the undersurface of his hammer. His outfit already splattered in blood and his black eyes ablaze with bloodlust, "12!"

Peeta had a good distance on Stasson, but he began to charge him and Peeta put all the strength he had into his legs. He couldn't let Stasson catch up to him. He had promises to fulfill. All the emotions swirling around Peeta during these moments since the games had started coalesced into a sharp pointed fear, one that coursed through his hot veins. Stasson, the giant predator from 4 was coming for him. He wanted Peeta's flesh and bone on that hammer too.

Once in the woods the sounds of death and mayhem started to fade. The air even began to clear and he hadn't realized how the smell of blood was permeating the atmosphere around the Cornucopia. Now all he could hear was his own blood pumping in his ears as he ran, his footsteps crunching through the dry earth as a heavier footed step slammed down in chase behind him. Stasson soon faded from distance too. Peeta either outpaced him too much or Stasson had decided to go back to the Cornucopia, finish up anyone left there and team up with the rest of the Careers.

Whichever way Peeta was not going to take time to look behind him and find out. He swung the backpack around to his front while he jogged down a slope in the woods and pulled out the knife still stuck into it, a gift from Clove. Now he at least had a weapon. He held the knife tightly in his fist, urging the unyielding metal to give him its strength.

Eventually Peeta had to slow down and take a break, panting heavily and exhausted from the onslaught of emotions the morning had brought. He propped himself up against a tree and decided to check out what was in the backpack he snagged. Inside he found a few packs of crackers, nuts and dried fruits, some rope, a rain jacket, wire, a sleeping bag, matches, two large bandages and gauze, tape, sunglasses and… a water canteen! Exactly what he had been hoping for. He was already parched from the whole morning and by the positioning of the sun he guessed it was afternoon now.

Unfortunately it was an empty water canteen. Peeta groaned in frustration. It meant he would have to keep going. He could not last long with out water.

BOOM….

BOOM, BOOM!

Peeta jumped, startled by the loud cannon shots. They were finally going to mark the deaths from the bloodbath. Peeta counted as they went off, all the way up to 11. Peeta felt sick. 11 kids were now dead, their bodies probably already collected and being shipped home to their families to be buried.

Now Peeta started to worry. 11 tributes were now dead. That's an awful high number and he feared what may have happened to Katniss. Did she make it to the woods? Or was she taken down before that?

And what of Cato? He thought fretfully. What if Stasson or Clove had put it together that Cato was the guy I had feelings for? Would they have killed him to spite me? Or would they wait to use him against me later?

Peeta was now feeling really stupid for having ever said anything to Caesar in the interview. He had just given his enemies a great advantage in this game. He opened a package of dried fruit and ate them absentmindedly, always keeping his eyes peeled for any sign of danger around him.

Once finished he got up from his spot, repacked his bag and continued the hunt for water. He figured he might as well continue downhill. There must be water collecting somewhere at the bottom, he thought.

But his hike ranged on and on and he came no closer to finding any source of water. The sun was beating down on him through the sparse woods and he felt his throat beginning to ache and scratch something fierce.

He was feeling lonely, desperate and still ever fearful. There was no water to be found anywhere. He had no allies to help him, no idea where he was going or what he would do. And on top of it all he was hungry again. This couldn't last much longer.

He decided as the temperature finally started to drop with the setting sun he would find a place to stay for the night. He found a rather large looking tree, with a small hollowed out space in the trunk he could back into. He built up a good camouflage around the area with leaves, dry sticks, dirt and a small shrub he had dug up. He even smeared dirt across his face. From a distance at night no one would be able to see him sleeping up against the tree. He hoped.

After settling in against the hollowed out trunk of the tree he pulled out the saltine crackers to eat. It wasn't much, but better than going to sleep hungry. Sadly he would go to sleep parched. He hoped tomorrow would be more successful in his search for water as he tried to swallow a chewed cracker, but found it difficult due to how dry his mouth was. He couldn't die from dehydration in the games, he was better than that.

With the sun now down Peeta could look up at the sky and see the slightly reflective surface of an energy field all around, the edges of their arena. Then the anthem suddenly began to play, echoing throughout the Arena. The death recap was going to begin.

In the sky above Peeta the Capitol seal appeared and his fingers dug into his thighs as he braced for the possibility of terrible news. But he was quickly relieved to find the first image of one of the dead a male tribute from 3, then the female from 3. So all the tributes from 1 and 2 were alive. So were Stasson and Uphelia. No surprise there. A boy from 5 was dead. Both tributes from 6, 7 and 9 were dead. The male from 8. There was only one more possible death and Peeta was extremely relieved yet again to see it was the girl from 10. Katniss had made it.

So for tonight he didn't have to deal with any losses. Cato, Katniss and Peeta were all still alive as the first day of the Hunger Games came to a close. Peeta found solace in that thought as he tried to drift to sleep, while hunger and thirst clawed at his throat.

There you have it. The first day of the games completed. Looks like everyone made it through, for now... Poor Peeta, he didn't get to be with Cato before the games started. Will they ever have the chance now? Let me know what you thought, did I capture the mood of the games well? All reviews welcomed!