Well, my lovelies, here we go again. :) I know the last chapter was depressing and this one isn't going to be any better, but it's a nice, long chapter full of... well, not exactly goodies, but information. And I really hope you like it.

Thank you for all of the favorites and follows, dears. Also, thank you to mangesboy01, pretty-pleasee, Tiff (Thank ya, dear! It was sad and it gets sadder, but it is the Hunger Games. There's really no way to write it happy, especially now that Nic has these deep connections with people. It'll get better eventually though.), and Jordan Lynn 7 for their reviews.

If you wouldn't mind, could you drop me a review or PM and let me know whatcha think? I'm eager to see which Tributes you'd like to see more of. :)

"Why'd you let her do it, Nic?" he asks after no more tears fall and the silence has become too much to bear. "Why?"

My eyes close. I've been replaying it constantly in my mind since she took Ophelia's hand, wondering if there was something I missed. Something I misinterpreted. Someway to not blame myself if she gets hurt... or worse.

Unwillingly, the memory starts over.

I pop the seal on the back and pull out the envelope.

Nicaea,

Words can't describe how proud I am of you. You've come so far since you won the Games and you've struggled to blossom into a strong, beautiful young woman. I'm afraid I must ask you to overcome one more thing though- the urge to Volunteer.

I know you plan on doing so to protect the ones you love and to prevent anyone else from suffering, which is noble and makes me even more proud of you, but you can't do this, Nicaea. I can't allow any of you girls to Volunteer, not while I'm still capable of taking your place. Finnick doesn't agree with me and has asked me not to write this, but it's important, Nicaea. You're a young woman and more helpful to the Rebel cause than I am. You'll be able to do more for them, possibly even be the poster child they so desire, whereas I cannot.

I've lived my life. It has been a long and happy one filled with all the joys that could be bestowed upon a single person. You need the chance to live yours and achieve the same.

All my love,

Mags

It's hard to move or think for a few minutes. I just stare uncomprehendingly at the letter in front of me, my eyes flicking over passages to try and make it make sense. Finally it sinks in though.

Mags is planning on Volunteering.

She wants me to step down so she can go into the Games herself.

She's willing to lay her life on the line so I can live a full life. So that Annie and Aoife and Castalia can and, by extension, every other woman in our District.

Tears slide down my cheeks. I love that woman more than I can bear and the raw compassion and willingness to sacrifice herself for me and the others tears me apart.

There's a knock on the door before Cassie comes in. She's in a simple, purple dress that resembles the one she wore the last time her name was entered into the lottery. Her brow furrows when she catches sight of me. "What's the matter?"

I hold out the letter to her and she scans it quickly, her eyes moving down the page.

"Well, are you going to let her?"

I look to her for some guidance. "I don't know."

She kneels down beside me, smoothing out her skirt so it won't wrinkle. "I think you should. You'll be safer, Cato won't Volunteer, and she makes a valid point."

"Cassie, she's eighty."

"And only one person gets to make it out of there. Finnick's Volunteering; that person could be him. She knows what she's doing, Nicaea."

"I know, but-"

Cassie lets out a huff and cuts me off, her pretty face contorting in anger. "You need to move past your martyr complex or learn to think outside the box. Do you know how hard it'll be for us if you die?" Then she stomps out of the room. I don't see her again until it's time to leave and the entire time I'm alone, my mind bounces back and forth between the options.

She doesn't smile when I meet her on the front porch. She just silently grabs Lara's hand, who grasps Lilaea's, who takes Keenan's, who in turn clings tightly to my own.

I try to smile down at him, but I know it's forced. We don't know for sure where I'll be two hours from now and it's nerve-wracking. For all of us.

But I know now. We all do.

"She wrote me a letter Finnick. She wanted to Volunteer in case something went wrong." My eyes cloud up and I tilt my head back against the seat of the couch to try and keep them from spilling over. "I never dreamed she was going to Volunteer no matter whose name was drawn."

"It was Annie's."

"You don't know that."

"You saw Ophelia's face. You heard her say it," he spits accusingly, his blue eyes narrowed down at me.

"I heard her say 'An', Finnick. There are other Annie's; there are Ann's; there are Annabelle's and Annamarie's. We don't know it was Annie Cresta's name on that slip of paper. You can speculate, but we don't know."

"I do." His voice is bitter, cold and deep down I know he's right. It was Annie's name on that slip and probably every other slip in the bowl, the same as Finnick's probably was for the men's lottery. It was a set-up by Snow, to put the two lovers in an Arena to fight to the death.

"I'm sorry," I whisper, hugging my knees to my chest and staring intently at the base of the couch on the other side of the room. All of this is too much to think about, too much stress. I'm not sure how I'll make it through the week.

"Did Cato know?"

"No," I whisper. "I tried calling him after I decided to let Mags take my place, but he never picked up."

"It'll be ok, cupcake," he says softly, resting a hand on my shoulder. "It'll be ok."

Later that night, Finnick, Liam, Ophelia, and I gather in front of the television to watch the Reapings and scope out the competition. Between Liam's current state, mine and Finnick's angst, and Ophelia's excitement, the tension in the air is thick. Normally, Mags serves to ease the tension, but she was too tired after everything today.

Liam lays loose in his seat, all the alcohol in his system making him sluggish. His eyes are half-closed and his head lolls from side to side as he tries to find the best angle to watch the television from. He holds up his bottle of alcohol and slurs his words together, "Almostime, Finny."

Beside him in another chair, Ophelia's nose wrinkles up. She's in a simpler dress now, no sparkling crystals on it, just a plain fuchsia that lights up the gloom of the room. She doesn't say anything to Liam though, just sits beside him in silent disgust.

I glance over at Finnick to try and see his reaction, but his face is a mask. He's been void of emotion since our earlier conversation in the last compartment. I've tried talking to him on and off, but he just shakes his head at me, telling me he's not ready to talk yet.

The Anthem of Panem begins playing around us and onscreen Caesar and Claudius come into view. They have huge smiles plastered on their faces and Caesar is decked out in a deep purple suit with matching hair. It's a bit odd to look at, but still better than the brilliant red he wore a few years ago.

"Welcome, welcome!" he and Claudius crow in tandem.

"Today was a big day in Panem," Claudius says and Caesar nods in agreement.

I tune them out, choosing instead to inspect my nail beds and listen to the hum of the train. I don't care how excited they are, I'm infuriated and refuse to let them aggravate me any further.

Finnick bumps my shoulder and I glance up to see the District 1 tributes, a pair of previous Victors. Cashmere and Gloss. A brother and sister who won back to back. They smile widely at the screen, obviously pleased with how the Reaping went down and reigniting a flame in their old Sponsors' hearts.

The screen goes black for a moment before showing the main square of District 2. My gut clenches and I automatically reach for Finnick's hand. He doesn't shrug me off, but calmly trades one hand for the other, his arm moving to rest protectively and comfortingly around my shoulders.

The escort walks over to the bowl and grins wildly at the waiting audience. They almost lean forward in anticipation as they wait for the name to be called. When it finally is, there's barely time for a heartbeat before a girl has Volunteered to take the woman's place.

My heart sinks as I recognize the brown braid swishing from side to side as she sashays her way on stage. The escort asks her her name and she smiles proudly out at the crowd. "Victoria Pulpit."

After he congratulates her and the crowd's cheers die down, he makes his way over to the other bowl, grinning again before plunging his hand in up to the wrist to retrieve a name. He walks calmly over to the microphone and rips open the seal. "N-"

"I volunteer!"

My heart plunges into my stomach and I let out a whimper, leaning heavily against Finnick's side as I watch for the second time as Cato shoves his way forward to offer himself up as Tribute. Tears cloud my vision as the camera soaks in his set, determined face, the scowl daring anyone to challenge him. No one does though, if anything, the crowds give the loudest shouts of approval imaginable.

I bury my face in Finnick's side as I wait for the pain to subside.

It doesn't.

If anything, my heart breaks further as the night goes on and the Reapings continue.

In District 3, two small children are Reaped, neither of them older than ten. Both times, I have to wipe away angry tears as they stricken faces light up the screens and their parents cry out indiscernible words, but it only lasts a moment. After a pregnant pause, two previous Victors take their places. Beetee and Wiress, Caesar informs us.

At the sight of my home district, my throat clenches shut. Reliving this day via screen makes the miles between myself and it seem all the larger. It makes the pain more real and at the same time creates a numbness, almost like it's not happening to me. Like it isn't real.

This time around, it's me who holds Finnick close. His hand squeezes mine tightly as Ophelia walks up the microphone and pops the seal.

Ophelia begins prattling from her perch in her armchair, taking a small sip of her wine as she goes along. "It was just so awful. My heart fell when I read her name. I mean, what were the odds of me drawing-"

Finnick's grip on my hand tightens and his jaw clenches, tendons straining in his neck. He really doesn't want the confirmation that it was Annie whose name was drawn. Sometimes ignorance is the best peace.

"Ophelia, be quiet," I say, scowling over at her.

Hurt flashes in her eyes for a second before her mouth snaps shut. She doesn't say another word for the rest of the evening.

On screen, Finnick's name is called and again I hear the shout from the back of the crowd.

"Idiot boy," Liam slurs. "I told you he'd try to Volunteer, Finnick." His brown eyes are focused in on Finnick and I on the couch. "Never doubt the data from the Academy."

"What happened?" I ask, looking between the two of them.

"Your boyfriend, cupcake. Decided he wanted to Volunteer after all." Liam takes another swig from his bottle. "Darling Finnick couldn't have that though. Can't let fresh meat in. So I took care of him when he tried to Volunteer."

I feel my brow furrowing further. "What happened? Who tried to Volunteer?"

"Aiden," Finnick whispers and my blood runs cold. "He mentioned that he was planning on Volunteering at the Academy a week ago. I had Liam stop him. He'd ruin everything."

Of course. It was a shock when he didn't Volunteer last year. He's an amazing shot with a harpoon and a trident and has been ranked top of our class at the Academy for as long as I can remember. I'd shrugged it off though as him wanting another year to prepare that way he'd be even more deadly, which seems to have been what it was.

The fact that he isn't here, that he didn't get to Volunteer, doesn't stop my mind from running a mile a minute though. Aiden was almost on this train with me, was almost going to the Capitol with me, was going to be fighting Cato in the Arena. And not only that, but, without even meaning to, he almost ruined all of the Rebellion's planning. It's a bone chilling revelation.

I give myself a little shake and shrug it off. It didn't happen, that's the important thing.

When I look back up at the screen, District 6 is showing off their tributes, a woman in her thirties and a man with slightly graying hair.

The scene shifts again and we watch quietly as District 7 reaps from their own. Johanna Mason's name is drawn, but no one volunteers to take her place. A minute later, a twelve-year-old with big, green eyes stands beside her on stage.

District 8 breaks my heart and I actually end up crying as I watch. A young girl, maybe six, is Reaped. Her eyes are wide on screen for a brief second before she's hugged by an older woman who looks to be in her thirties. For a moment, I think she's going to send the girl off, but she doesn't. She stands up and walks toward the stage to Volunteer. Her name's Cecelia, another Victor. Caesar tells us that the girl was her youngest child and that she has two others, both boys. A man, also in his thirties, joins her soon after. We get no back story on him.

9 and 10 pass without any traumatic Reapings. The people are of an average age and look healthy enough. They shouldn't be too impressive as competition, but I know better than to underestimate people based on their looks after my issues last year with the boy from 10.

District 11 is another story altogether. An elderly woman's name is drawn. She looks to be as old as Mags and she stumbles weakly towards the front of the square, leaning heavily on a cane. Once onstage, I worry that she'll topple over in the light breeze that moves the escort's luxurious lavender hair, but she doesn't. She remains in place until the male tribute is drawn, a boy about my age who looks like he could rip me in two. He stands tall and proud beside the old woman, his eyes flashing dangerously at the cameras. A moment later, Caesar informs us that they're related- a grandmother and her grandson. The second set of family members going into the Games this year, but the two couldn't be more different.

No tears fall though. I know we can get them out if we win over the other Tributes and if Plutarch can rig the Games in time.

I'm not sure why, but the sight of District 12 causes my stomach to clench unpleasantly. Maybe it's the dilapidated state of everything. Maybe it's the fact that Katniss and Peeta's faces flash in my mind at the sight.

I don't dwell on it. I've learned by now that you can't allow yourself to do that. You can't allow yourself to fall apart.

The Reaping itself is like a recap of last year.

The escort walks up to the bowl, draws out a name, and walks briskly over to the microphone. Her face falls for a fraction of a second, just a brief flicker that you wouldn't catch unless you were watching as anxiously and closely as I am. "Primrose Everdeen."

My heart stops and the television shows her scared, little face.

It's happening to her all over again, but this time her sister isn't there to save her. She knows she's a goner. That there's no hope.

Tears well up in her eyes and mine, then she squares her shoulders and marches forward.

Only to be stopped a moment later.

The girl I vaguely remember from the Mayor's house comes forward and stands beside Prim. "I Volunteer as Tribute," she says calmly before making her way onto the stage. She looks confident, but I can see her knees shake.

A couple moments later, she's standing on stage introducing herself. "Madge Undersee." Her voice shakes slightly, as if she's realizing the gravity of the situation, but she holds her composure, her shoulders squaring themselves and her eyes staying clear.

The escort nods and makes her way over to the other bowl. She grins at the crowd, obviously pleased with another Volunteer. She pulls the name out and walks precariously over to center stage. She flashes another toothy smile before reading the name.

In the crowd, a girl screams and the camera zeroes in on her for a brief second. My heart shatters all over again. An image of the little girl I gave my coat to all those months ago is splashed across the wall of the train. Poor Posy's face is contorted in terror and heartache.

"Gale Hawthorne!"

I can't take it anymore. The television goes black as my finger jabs the button.

Finnick holds me close to his chest and I cling to him. "This is awful," I whisper.

"It is," he whispers back.

"Want something to drink, cupcake? It fixes it for a while." Liam waves the mostly empty bottle at me.

Ophelia makes a noise of disgust before leaving the room and I shake my head. "No, Liam."

We need to be tiptop from now on. We can't have any more crutches. The battle's beginning and our adversary knows all our weaknesses and he holds all the cards.