A/N: I'm sorry this took so long- writers block! I've found writing one-shots helps me, so if any of you have an requests, even if they might be for out of this particular fandom, send them to me and I'll get back to you! As always, enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Hunger Games. It belongs to Suzanne Collins.

EDIT: I have gone back and revised this story, so this is the updated version, which is slightly different then the original.

Peeta is standing in the corner, staring at me. He looks different then he had before. Instead of wearing his tribute uniform and being 16 years old, he's five again, and wearing the same brown corduroy pants and white button-down shirt he wore the first day of kindergarden. I remember him telling me they were hand me downs from his older brother.

He has a glass of what looks like fruit punch, although I know that can't be it because that's even more expensive then orange juice. He holds an orange in his other hand but he ignores them both.

All of the sudden, a bloodcurdling shriek echos through the air and Peeta drops both things. He looks like he's about to lunge through the air towards me when, suddenly, he disappears.

Calliope is suddenly in my face. "Katniss?" She asks over and over, frantic, and I realize I was the one who screamed.

The world around me is spinning. The shadows clinging to the walls morph and transform into gruesome shapes before returning to their seemingly benign selves. The sliver of light near the doorway shrinks into nothingness, then returns with a blindingly bright explosion. I can almost feel the vibrations in the floorboards.

"I'm-I'm fine." I try to say, but no noise comes out. I clutch at my throat, and try to speak again. This time, a slight rasp comes out, but no intelligible words.

"Oh no," Calliope whispers, and I start to freak out.

Even though I don't anymore, I think about how I need my voice. I used to rely on it to hunt- and I realize that I do need it now- just for a different reason. It will be completely impossible to communicate with Haymitch without my voice- he'll be too drunk most of the time to be able to understand anything else.

I try to swear, but no sound comes out.

"Let me get you an attendant," Calliope says hurriedly, and she turns and rushes outside the room for a second. A moment later when she runs back in, a Capitol attendant is following her.

He is a large man that seems to be in his early thirties. He picks me up easily, as though I were no more then a sack of flour. As he lifts me, I can feel the muscles in his arm ripple.

I want to protest but every time I try to speak only a rasp comes out.

He finally lays me down roughly on a bed in the infirmary. A minute later, Damian and Haymitch come in. I am shocked to see Haymitch is completely sober.

"Katniss," Damian sighs, annoying me. "What happened?"

"She looked in the corner after I told her my boyfriend was Peeta's older brother, she screamed, and then she fell, and she hasn't been able to talk since!"

A look of understanding crosses Haymitch's face. "I understand," he says quietly and everyone's heads jerk around to face him.

Damian nods slowly and leaves the room. Calliope's face displays her confusion but she sighs and says, "I'll get Damian to explain it," before leaving.

The Capitol attendants slowly bleed out of the room, leaving me with plenty of time to stare at Haymitch in confusion.

"What?" I try to say after they've left the room. No noise comes out, but Haymitch sees my lips moving and understands what I'm trying to say.

"You're in love with Gabe."

I'm really hating my throat right now, because if it was fine I would be screaming denials at him right now. And telling him he got the name wrong.

"And you were in love with Peeta, no matter how much you wish you weren't."

I'm really really hating my throat right now.

"And now Peeta's gone and every time his name is mentioned you see him- the few flashes of memory you have left- and the combined stress of that and worrying about if Gale still loves you is making you unable to speak. You need to calm down to regain your voice."

I stare at Haymitch in shock. When did he become so knowledgable? Then I remember. The girl he was in love with died in the arena too.

Despite his words, no matter how hard I try to calm down, I can't get my throat to work again. But I am still allowed to go down to the Control Center after making a strict promise not to speak and being given a high tech headband.

The headband is hooked up to a small device they give me, into which I type what I want to say, and then a speaker in the headband says it for me.

I give it a try. I like lamb and plum stew, I type slowly. Suddenly, there is a ding and a mechanical voice says, "I like lamb and plum stew." It's robotic but the relief of finally being able to communicate makes a grin break out on my face.

"You look radiant Katniss," someone says from the corner. "Better keep that smile on your face."

I spin in a full circle to see Effie standing in the corner. I let out the breath I didn't know I was holding.

"Katniss?" Effie asks again, her voice tinged with concern. "Are you okay?" Her face relaxes when I force the smile back on my face. Great, I type, although even a drunken Haymitch would be able to tell my smile is fake.

"Come on, Katniss. There's still two hours for you to talk to Haymitch. Calliope and Damian have already been talking for an hour. You missed lunch. I'll have someone send in something for you."

I nod absently, tuning her out as I follow her down the hall. As we walk, I silently wish I hadn't had throat problems because it cut down the time I had to talk to Haymitch. I need to figure out our whole plan in just two hours. I silently thank the Capitol for giving us the extra day. The couple days Effie kept me sick in bed have thrown me completely off track.

The moment Effie points out the door to me, I rush in. Ignoring her continued rambling, I shut the door immediately after I get inside. I barely have time to glance at her slightly crestfallen face before I am enclosed in darkness. In the few moments it takes my eyes to adjust to the gloom, I take a seat in the dark green armchair next to Haymitch.

So, I begin immediately typing. What are our plans for the arena? What are we planing on sponsors- how many people have signed up yet? What's going on so far? And- Haymitch pulls my hand from the keyboard before I can type more.

"Sweetheart, calm down. We have plenty of time. I was hoping- we're going to talk about you first."

I yank my hands from his so I can type again. Why?

"Why what?"

Why do you care so much? It doesn't matter what's going on in my personal life- it doesn't effect what I do here.

"Yes it does," Haymitch contradicts me. "Everything in you secretly wants to get back there, no matter the price. And you're prejudiced. You want to keep Damian alive, not because he has a chance, but because you're in love with his nephew and you're afraid if you can't manage it, Gabe-"

Gale, I type quickly, interrupting.

"Whatever," he says. "You're afraid if you can't manage it he'll hate you forever and you'll never have a chance at a relationship again."

I want to tell him he's wrong. But every time I type the words, I delete them just in time. It's as though they're stuck in my throat- or my fingers.

I look up in time to see Haymitch smile sadly. The same thing happened with Maysilee, didn't it? I type quickly and before I can stop myself hit send.

The mechanical voice echos through the room, like an accusation. Haymitch looks down.

"Yes," he says finally, just when I think he's decided not to answer.

Her name?

"Rosie."

When?

"Two months after."

Why did it stop?

"For the same reason yours is about to. I felt guilty about it and that's probably half of the reason the two tributes I mentored died. That and inexperience."

You mean Damian's going to die? I type, eyes wide.

"No! That's not what I meant. You have me. But, see, that proves that I'm right?"

What? I type.

"You immediately thought of Damian, because you are more concerned about his safety- because he's Gale's uncle."

I shake my head persistently but he just smiles. "I can't wait until you make up with Gale. That way you won't have to worry about him so much."

But what if one of his siblings gets picked, and I can't save them? He'll hate me again. I type.

"He won't," Haymitch says.

To avoid arguing with him, I look at the dandelion-colored clock on the wall and notice almost an hour has gone by.

Haymitch, I type urgently. We need to talk about the tributes.

"You're right," Haymitch says. I realize this is the first time I can ever remember him holding a long conversation with anyone- he's usually too drunk to manage it.

So what's the plan? I type.

He outlines all the details to me, so much that it takes the rest of the hour. I nod in agreement every time he pauses.

Finally, Effie knocks on the door.

"Dinner!" she calls through the wood, not bothering to open the door. Haymitch nods at me, as though saying farewell, and gets up from his chair. Hastily, I follow.

The dinner is delicious. Grilled chicken, miniature rolls with a garlic-butter dipping sauce, chopped red, green, and yellow peppers, mashed squash, and vanilla and chocolate swirled ice cream with hot fudge sauce for dessert.

As Calliope and Damian go back to their separate corners, Haymitch stops them. "Wait," he says. "I want to tell you- the arena's not what you expect."

I turn around my chair in surprise. Haymitch never told us this last year. I expected he'd be giving them the 'stay alive' thing he told us last year.

"You need to be ready for anything. When you first get into the arena, I want you to run. You might be tempted by the Cornucopia, but I want you to ignore it. If there is something within five feet of you, you can grab it. But no matter what, I don't want you wrestling with another tribute over something. Neither of you are strong enough to live."

He points to me. "She ran. That's why she lived." And then, without saying anything else, he gets up and leaves.

Calliope and Damian turn to me, as though I might be able to explain Haymitch's odd behavior. But following my old mentor's example, without explaining what I am doing I leave the room quietly. I can feel the heat of Calliope's eyes on me and I am glad when I turn the corner and she cannot stare at me anymore.

I knock quietly on Haymitch's door but no one answers. When I peek in he's asleep on his bed- or at least pretending to be.

I silently shut the door behind me, but when I stand there for a moment I hear no heavy footfalls or noises from his room. I sigh and head over to my room, but I can only lay down for a moment before I have to get back up. Pacing, I order a hot chocolate and rolls, and without sitting down, I eat them. Without something to do, my hands shake and my thoughts turn to Haymitch's accusation.

Do I really favor Damian? Why did my mind automatically flash to Damian?

Is it because of Gale? Or is it because he reminds me of Peeta?

The thought makes my whole body quake. As much as I want to deny it, I can't. The theory consumes my mind, until I can't think about anything else. Honestly, it makes a lot of sense. Damian's always taking care of me- like Peeta. He's in the same position Peeta was in last year- going into the arena trying to keep the other tribute alive.

I fall onto the bed. The room is spinning again, no doubt signaling another headache. The bright, multicolored lights of the Capitol shine brightly through the window, merging into a large blob of color. My head begins to ache.

What is wrong with me? Why am I so messed up? There's a knock on the door, but I don't bother to answer it. Slowly, the door creaks open. I cover my face with a pillow.

I pull out my keyboard and hastily type, Go away Damian.

"I'm not Damian," a smooth voice says.

I angrily stand up, and then look at the face of the man standing by the door.

I can barely keep myself from fainting.

A/N: Review or PM me with comments :) Also, just this once I'll tell you that the man in the doorway was not Peeta. :)

EDIT: Currently under the revision process. One chapter will be posted a day! (Hopefully)