[A/N: Thank you to everybody that reviews! I hope you enjoy this chapter, it's a bit longer than usual because I had a lot to say. Feedback is greatly appreciated!]

Chapter 12: Sweet Memory Lane

Gale informed me that I didn't have to go and see Peeta until after lunch, which was a stroke of good luck because the interviews for the 76th Hunger Games were airing at 10am and I really wanted to watch them live. I was terrified there was going to be another last minute meeting I had to attend, but luckily nothing came up, and I was able to open my compact as soon as it started heating up in my hand. Honestly I can't remember many of the tributes; other than Taylor and Dylan only a few stuck out in my mind.

Obviously, as nobody had been expecting a Hunger Games, there were no "career" tributes this year who'd been training for the opportunity. This meant that the real threats this year weren't necessarily from Districts 1 and 2. In fact the District 1 tributes both struck me as pretty weak; they were very thin and sickly pale. The real threat seemed to be Rosie Stanley, from district 11, who had scored a terrifying twelve. She was very tall, probably close to six foot, and had a mane of dark red hair that reached almost to her waist. When Caesar asked her how much she wanted to win she laughed and said that she'd tear the other tributes' heads off using her teeth if she had to. The deranged look in her almost black eyes told me she meant every word. The districts without living victors were being mentored by their mayors and I'd heard the mayor of 11 was a tyrant very keen on the death penalty. I only hoped he'd be a less competent mentor than a past winner like Enobaria or my parents.

Nobody got an eleven so the next highest scorers after Rosie were Taylor and Callum Lowe, both with tens. Callum was the male tribute for District 7, so would be mentored by Johanna, and was a very attractive eighteen-year-old with dark skin and jet black hair. He must have been at least six foot eight and looked like he could have torn Dylan in two with his bare hands. When he walked onto the stage there were cheers and whoops from the audience, some of whom even started calling his name. He must be a favourite to win. Caesar asked him a few generic questions about the Capitol and the games and Callum came across as charismatic and confident. The sponsors were going to love him. I sort of wanted to punch him.

Then Caesar asked him in a soft, empathetic voice "how do you feel about your little sister being chosen as the other District 7 tribute?"

I hadn't known about that. I started to feel slightly sorry for Callum; I couldn't imagine how I would have felt if I'd been reaped alongside Dylan.

The crowd went silent waiting for Callum's response. I think they were as shocked as I was when Callum started laughing.

"It's no big deal, just another person to kill. I never liked her that much anyway. I was honestly relieved when she was picked; she's so frail and small I bet she'll be easy to get rid of. I was worried it was going to be this really tall, scary girl from my District that has a bit of a grudge against me!"

Even Caesar looked shocked for a moment before composing himself and quickly changing the topic. I take it back. I didn't feel sorry for this boy AT ALL. How could somebody talk so heartlessly about their own flesh and blood? I'd begged to volunteer for Abigail just so that I could go in and protect Dylan!

I did, however, feel sorry for his sister. Her name was Macy.

She had the same dark skin and jet black hair as her brother but that was where the comparisons ended. She was small where he was tall, she was sweet where he was cruel, and she was young at twelve, whilst he was old at eighteen. When asked about her brother she said that she would never do anything to hurt him, but that there was probably nothing she could do to hurt him anyway. I seriously hope Johanna favoured her when distributing sponsor money.

Taylor's interview of course went wonderfully; he's handsome, charming and a high-scorer so the sponsors were always going to love him. I hoped that Enobaria (the only living district 2 victor) directed more sponsorship money to him than to the ditzy blonde girl from District 2. Her name was Kelly Jackson and I swear during her entire interview she never strung together a sentence consisting of more than four words. All she really did was twirl her hair and giggle.

But even her interview went better than Dylan's.

When he came on there were "ooohs" and "aahs" from the audience as they recognised the son of the famous Mellarks. He was wearing what looked like a suit made of diamonds, and Laurel quickly informed me that he'd been wearing similar clothes during the chariot entrance. The district 12 stylists this year were playing that "coal turns into diamonds when you put pressure on it angle" and for a moment I thought Dylan had a real chance of winning sponsors over with his cuteness. But my poor baby brother doesn't do anywhere near as well under pressure as coal; he was so nervous he couldn't talk without stuttering. Whereas Macy Lowe had come across as weak, but very sweet and bubbly he just came across as weak, scared and shy. I was pretty sure that any sponsors wanting to give their money to a "cute" tribute were going to pick her and not him. My only hope was that maybe Abigail Wood's interview would go well, bringing in some sponsorship money to 12 that my parents could divert to Dylan. But, alas, she was about as interesting as a plank of wood. No wonder I'd forgotten her name so quickly at the reaping.

The Hunger Games started at 11pm that night and Laurel promised to open the compact then. Before she left I decided to ask her a question.

"Laurel, who's mentoring District 3?"

"Their mayor of course, they don't have a living victor." She told me, looking confused.

"What about Beetee?" I asked her fearing the answer.

"Molly he died during the rebellion, electrocuted himself whilst in District 13." She told me matter-of-factly.

"Thanks," I said sadly, closing the compact. I'd changed the course of history. What kind of knock-on effects would this have? People had been discussing the impact of his loss on the rebellion at breakfast but I hadn't been listening to most of what was said. I remember somebody saying the propos would still be able to air so that was good at least. And I knew that nothing that had come back in time could be altered by events in the future shifting; we were protected from it. That's why my memories of Beetee in the future hadn't changed whilst everybody else's had. So my wiress still worked fine. It did, however, mean that Haymitch now probably had no memories of sending me back in time. Which meant that nobody knew where I was; if I died here, nobody in the future would have a clue what had happened to me. I suddenly felt very guilty, imagining my parents' pain if they lost Dylan then lost me too. I had to get home. Soon.

By the time I arrived at Peeta's room I was in a decidedly bad mood. But seeing my Dad, even if he was a battered and mentally deranged teenage Mutt, cheered me up. I'd always been closer to him than Mum; I think this was because when he was upset or scared he dealt with it by reaching out to those around him. Mum dealt with it by shutting us out.

"Hi Peeta," I said to him cautiously.

He looked up suddenly and seemed confused for a moment, narrowing his eyes at me. The armed guard in the corner of the room trained his gun on Peeta's head, which I personally thought was a bit excessive, but hey, I didn't know Young Peeta very well.

"Who are you?" He asked me. He didn't say it rudely, he just seemed curious.

"Your cousin, Molly Trident, from District 4," I told him.

"I'm sorry, I don't remember you," he told me apologetically.

That's probably because Molly Trident doesn't exist. I thought to myself. Of course, I wasn't stupid enough to say that aloud.

"Well let's see if I can jog your memories." I told him. I felt bad messing with his concept of what was and wasn't real when his memories had been damaged so cruelly, but I knew he wouldn't mind if he knew why I was doing it. Dad would have done anything to protect Dylan. I decided to try not to feed Peeta too many lies; I'd just write myself into real stories about his past.

"Do you remember that time we went camping in the forests?" I asked him. He'd told me about this camping trip when he was trying to get me to sleep one night. I'd tell Peeta the truth, and just imply that I was there too. "Your Dad took you, your brothers and me into the forests surrounding District 12 and we laid under the stars for a night wrapped in blankets. We roasted marshmallows on an open fire and your brothers told you they were actually squirrel brains so you refused to eat them. When you found out they were lying later that night you were so angry that you put worms in their shoes. You got grounded for a week after they told on you."

Peeta was laughing. That was good surely. One look at the armed guard's shocked face told me that this Peeta didn't laugh very often.

"Now that you mention it I do remember that! The look on their faces was priceless. I can't believe I forgot that trip."

The rest of the day passed in much the same way; I tried to remember the stories Dad had told me about his past and I passed these on to Young Peeta. The day Mum had sung the valley song in assembly. The time his mother was so sick she thought she was dying so she told him she loved him. Dad had told me this was the only time she'd ever said it to him. The time his father had allowed Peeta to choose any bun in the bakery as his twelfth Birthday present. Wherever possible I avoided giving myself a large role in them lest I should mess with his brain too much. I actually got so engrossed in my storytelling that I forgot to go to dinner. It was a wonderful feeling; being able to do something to help Dad after all that he and Mum had done for me, and I went back to my bedroom at 10pm feeling rather happy. Until I saw the compact lying on my bedside table and remembered what awaited me at 11pm.

I opened it as soon as it started heating up and listened intently as Caesar Flickerman showed the audience around the arena that the tributes were about to be trapped in. It was a rocky terrain, with trees that were about four stories high and had no low branches, so were virtually impossible to climb. Great. I knew from Mum that hiding up trees was a good way to stay out of trouble; clearly that wasn't going to be an option for Dylan. Caesar revealed to us that the arena also featured a secret volcano hidden somewhere that could be triggered at any time. And the only source of water was by the Cornucopia.

The tributes were lifted into the arena and I saw that Dylan and Taylor were positioned next to one another. I watched with bated breath as the timer counted down from 60. The camera focused for a split second on my brother's face and I was glad to see that he was glancing behind him, hopefully planning to run away from the blood bath as soon as the countdown finished. I realised that this could be the last time I ever saw him alive, and tried not to cry as I memorised the crease of his forehead as he concentrated, and the exact way his mop of blonde hair stuck out in all directions. Even the Capitol's stylists had been unable to tame it. The camera moved away from him too quickly to ditzy Kelly who was looking around happily like she was in wonderland and not the arena. That girl seriously needed to get some brain cells. About twenty seconds later the camera switched back to Dylan, just as the countdown reached 5. He was narrowing his eyes in determination.

4. The smile twisting up the left corner of his mouth told me he had a plan.

3. I watched as he moved his body slightly.

2. He was shifting it in the direction of the Cornucopia.

1. He leaned forwards, ready to run into the blood bath. For some reason my baby brother had decided to tackle a bunch of teenagers who were three times his size and 100% ready to kill him head on instead of running away. I wanted to scream at him. But I knew that would do no good.

The timer hit zero.

[A/N: What do you think? I know there was a lot of Dylan and Taylor in this chapter but I felt I'd been neglecting them. What do you think? Reviews are greatly appreciated! I will hopefully update within a couple of days, maybe sooner.]