A/N: This is a very short chapter, but it has a song in it so don't worry. A few of you have asked for more of the games bacause the chapters have started to seem more like fillers, but I'm afraid I'm going to continue on the path I've chosen for this story anyway. I can tell you that it will have more games chapters as the games progress anyway though so it doesn't really matter, only the games haven't got kick started yet, and these chapters are clearing a few things up. First of all - we have a lovely song for all of you to bask in for this chapter. Secondly - a few of you asked about Dizzy, in fact many of you were intruigued about her, so that is what this and the next chapter focuses on - Dizzy as a character. I hope you enjoy this and review. One more thing to mention - this is half way through Shattered Hearts. like Gnawing hunger, I am aiming for 50 chapters, including an epilogue if needed, so you'll be pleased to hear that this, being chapter twenty-five, is the middle chapter. Half way through - whoo!

Hercules takes over with a groan after a few more hours of uneventful waiting. We don't even have the boy from eleven to fall out of the trees any more. I wander around Cets aimlessly for a bit, striking up a conversation here and there and ignoring the killer evils both Whitney and Johanna are giving me, a few other people alongside. Winter and Summer; the twins from district two, are actually quite fun to be around, and I throw a few jokes at them half heartedly before sinking into the seat and watching the busy hubbub of Cets swirl around me, surrounding me with movement like some sort of tribal dance, the moves too complicated for me to even start to understand. I slowly feel myself sinking into the rhythm that everyone else has taken to like a needle to cloth and suddenly I feel my voice becoming active and myself singing quietly to myself under my breath so no-one will hear me.

I want to laugh with you,

I want to share in happy giggles,

I want to stand by you,

Stand by you and it's not fickle,

I want to cry with you,

I want to share in mournful tears,

I want to stand by you,

Stand by you for all our years,

I want to sing with you,

I want to share in harmonious notes,

I want to stand by you,

Stand by you for it's you I dote,

I want to smile with you,

I want to share in loving beams,

I want to stand by you,

Stand by you, just you and me,

I want to breathe with you,

I want to share in steady breaths,

I want to stand by you,

Stand by you until our deaths,

I want to stand by you,

I want to hold both of us up,

I want to stand by you,

Stand by you and stand by us,

"Kara?"

"Huh?" I grunt, staring up from the steaming cup of coffee clamped into my hands to see the face of none other than Drisabella, the female victor from district nine. "Oh, it's you," I sigh, bending my head back down again to stare at my drink.

"I thought you might want to, well, say hi," Dizzy pauses, her eyes darting from me to the coffee and back up to my face, "you certainly look tired."

"Oh? Yup, I'm tired," I groggily sigh, sinking back into the sofa, trying to relax as much as I can.

"So... your girl is still alive, then?" Dizzy questions, glancing again from me to the rapidly cooling cup of coffee which I still haven't even taken a mere sip from.

"Yes... yours was, yours was... well, wasn't she?" I gulp, tugging my eyes from the coffee to settle on Drisabella's face. Her eyes are a dreamy grey and seem prominent over her pink-ish face, her hair has been dyed a deep navy blue and is short cut so it rides in a bob above her shoulders, two straggly strands dipping down at the front. Her face seems shy and quiet and the way she glances around makes her seem almost furtive. She's wearing a red and white stripy t-shirt which looks slightly like one of those traditional sailor's tops only it's red instead of the deep blue and almost black her hair represents and also she's wearing some black skinny jeans, constricting her skinny and underfed figure, which still seems to have been kept up even though she's a victor.

"Yes," Dizzy gulps, "Kimmy died in the bloodbath, not much to it really..."

"I'm sorry to hear that," I say automatically, reciting the first thing that you're meant to say when the subject of death comes up. Yet still I feel awkward, since I've never had a dead tribute. "Did you... were you mentoring the girl from nine last year as well?" I gulp, afraid of the answer.

"Yes," Dizzy nods simply, hiding her face slightly with her arm, "I was."

"I... she never got picked up from the hovercraft did she, I mean the wooden alligator had completely..."

"Yes," Dizzy nods again, "Tara's body was never returned to her district. The alligator... the alligator completely, well, you know."

I nod compliantly, unsure of what else to do. What else am I meant to say, I gazed over her dead body after all, in its bloated form from the wooden alligator mutt's huge, bulging stomach.

"You, you won your games at the age of twelve, didn't you?" I ask suddenly, trying to steer the conversation away, but only landing on a worse subject.

"Yes," Dizzy says simply, lifting her head up with a blank placid look plastered all over it.

"Err... how did you, how did you..."

"How did I do it?" Dizzy asks, causing me to nod slightly, "I can't tell you that."

"Oh..." I sigh, turning my head. She is entitled to keep her own secrets, and parts of her which she wishes could be locked up forever.

"But I can show you if you want, they keep the recordings of the games in a storeroom and you're more than entitled to see it." Dizzy adds offhandedly, causing my brow to furrow.

"You'd... you'd let me see them?"

"Of course, you've probably seen them already, just forgotten. They're the sixty-eighth hunger games," Dizzy says, her face blank and as devoid of emotion as before.

"So... so I just go and watch them then?"

"Sure, but you'll excuse me if I don't watch them. I find that they stir up memories inside me which are best left... unperturbed."

"Of course," I nod again, standing up slightly. Just as I'm about to leave the room, tapes in hand from the cupboard after hurriedly tugging out the sixty-eighth, I turn around the Dizzy again, seeing her placidly sitting on the sofa, my mug of cold coffee in her hands, staring into the swirls, "thank you," I call and then step out of Cets and head towards my room. Now I can find out what I need to know, what I need to know about Dizzy and how she won her hunger games. After all, she reminds me an awful lot of Indi. And if I find out how Dizzy won, I can find out how Indi might be able to win. The only problem is; I'm afraid of the answer.