"Many that live deserve death. And some that die deserve life. Can you give it to them? Then do not be too eager to deal out death in judgment. For even the very wise cannot see all ends"

~J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring

I dress slowly, taking my time to pull on the long black jeans and pale shirt. I stand in front of the mirror, mindlessly brushing my fingers through my hair until it looks somewhat presentable.

Derek is dressed similarly when I begrudgingly close my front door behind me. He's sitting with Adele on the concrete front steps of their own home across the dirt path. They don't notice me at first. Adele holds Derek's hands in hers, her lips moving softly as she speaks to him. I can't hear what she says but it looks comforting. He watches her so intently that it makes me hesitate; he has so few moments with her that I don't want to interrupt.

But inevitably he looks up and sees me standing there. I nod and cross the path towards them. I can't help but notice how Adele watches him as he rises to his feet, her face passionate and concentrated on her husband.

Derek greets me kindly but I can tell he's stressed. "I didn't hear you-"

"It's fine" I say curtly, tucking my fingers into the belt loops of my jeans.

"I tried to find you last night" he says like a disappointed parent. "Where were you?"

"Does it matter?" I ask with a shrug. "We should go."

I turn and stride off towards the village square. Derek catches up to me before I even make it through the gates. I chew on the inside of my cheek as we walk in tense silence. I knew I wouldn't sleep, and I knew that even if I did, it would be riddled with nightmares. So, instead, I took a late night walk to the graveyard. I couldn't bring myself to visit the tribute graveyard, as much as I wanted to. I spent hours sitting in the dirt over my parent's, and sibling's graves. I knew no one would see me and no one would bother me, so for just one night, I let myself pretend that they were alive.

I watch the crowd as Derek and I take our spots on stage. It's the same speeches, anthem, and treaty of treason before Karina finally plucks the microphone from the mayor to "get to the best part!" I watch each face grow in tension as she dips her hands into the bowl, pulling out a thin piece of paper and bringing it back to center stage.

"Marta Kretz!" she shouts. I hear the almost universal breath of relief as realization spreads that the faces below are safe. All except one.

She emerges from the row of seventeen year olds. Light blond hair spills out of her point tail around her face. Despite her age, she's tiny – no taller than I am. She keeps her face pressed into a firm line, but I see the redness spreading down her cheeks as she approaches.

The boy is named Oliver Mikkelson. He has more meat on him than most others, but he doesn't have the look of a killer. Or a Victor. If I had to bet, I wouldn't expect him to make it out of the bloodbath.

Then, as suddenly as it started, Karina ushers the two new tributes into the metal doors to say their goodbyes. I follow Derek silently, waiting with him on the couches until Karina reappears to bring us to the car. No one but her says much of anything during the drive.

Derek sighs tiredly as we roll up to the station, cameras already tracking our movements. "I need a drink" he mutters.

"You shouldn't drink so much" I say flatly, though from the way he glares at me I know he heard the joke.

"I'll stop when you do" he smiles subtly.

"Really?"

He grimaces when the car begins to slow in front of the station. "Probably not." I laugh crudely in response.

I get out of the car, standing to the side to wait for Marta to shyly get out after me. Karina waves her hands at us, herding us up the platform. "Well you don't need to worry" I say to Derek, "I don't plan on stopping either."

True to his word, Derek goes straight for the booze when we enter, though I refuse his offer to pour me some. I sink into a chair by the window, curling my feet under me while Karina tells the tributes to sit and make themselves at home.

Derek leads them to the couch across from me. I can't help but stare at them as they respond to Derek. They respect him, more than they respect me. They're terrified but they listen to him and they trust him.

Marta and Oliver look around our small group, clearly uncomfortable with the company. I can't help but notice how Marta keeps glancing at me, her eyes cautious. I roll my eyes, looking over at her. "Don't worry" I say "I have no intention of killing you." She blushes and looks down at her hands. I earn a curt glare from Derek and cluck from Karina, but I shrug it off.

I don't say a single word while Derek coaxes them to speak. It's all the same: trees, axes, family, fear, blah, blah, blah. These kids aren't special and they aren't going to come out alive. I listen to it all but there's nothing for me to say. Even throughout dinner I sit quietly. My nighttime excursion is finally catching up to me and I feel my eyes getting heavy.

I follow slowly to the large, rounded leather couch to watch the reapings mostly out of obligation than desire. There's nothing special at all. Two tall, blonde, sexy tributes volunteer from 1. I swear everyone from there must look identical. Even if I wanted to I don't think I could tell these two apart from any other District 1 Victor I've met.

District 2 is much the same, though I suppose the girl is shorter than normal, but I know just from the look of her that she's a Career and she takes it seriously. If I had to guess, I'd pick one of them as this year's Victor.

District 3 passes without anything other than two young tributes. District 4 is the same as 1 and 2, athletic, attractive and capable. 5 and 6 pass uninterestingly, and so does our own, though I notice how both Marta and Oliver have to look away when they appear on screen. I can't judge them for it – I had to do the same. 8, 9, and 10 are boring, bordering on forgettable. When District 11 appears and a twelve-year-old girl, small and innocent is called, even Karina sighs in sorrow. I glare at her, challenging her to say anything about how unfair it is a girl that age be chosen. It's not fair for anyone at any age to be chosen. But Karina knows better and choses to hold her tongue.

I raise my eyebrows when the boy gets called. He's enormous to say the least. Anyone with the means of being so strong and healthy in a District as poor as 11 has to be a fighter. He could give the Careers a run for their money. Silently I hope he'll be the Victor. At least he has a chance. I'll root for any tribute that isn't a Career, honestly.

District 12 reaps another twelve-year-old. I scoff loudly, momentarily catching glances from the others as I do so. We all watch with disgust and sorrow as the young, blonde girl begins the trek to the stage. I'm all but ready to get up and go to bed when I hear Karina suck in her breath. There's a sudden screaming on the T.V. as a girl pushes free from the ropes. "I volunteer!" she shrieks.

Slowly I find myself sitting up. No one volunteers in the outlying Districts. Ever. Occasionally there will be one in 5 or 8, and once even in 10, but never has anything come out of 12. Hence why Haymitch is the only one to go to and from the Capitol each year. No one on screen seems sure what to do, least of all the escort, but eventually the Peacekeepers intervene to pull the young girl away as her place is taken. And as the girl is marched onto the stage I notice that not a soul in the audience begins the round of applause that's expected. The escort seems confused as the crowd remains daftly silent, each one pressing their fingers to their lips and extending them to girl. Katniss Everdeen, they call her.

I feel the smile on my face as the escort tries to ignore the show of rebellion by calling the boy's name. It's not as dramatic, but still, no one claps.

I look over at Derek, who appears just as shocked. I laugh, both amazed and thrilled at the display. "Holy shit." Karina looks over at me, though I can see the surprise and doubt on her face, too.

Now that's what I've been waiting for on the news programs. Holy shit doesn't even begin to cover it.

I can't stop thinking about the girl. Katniss Everdeen. Long after Karina and tributes haven gone to bed and I'm still sitting awake, with the silent company of Derek, replaying her volunteering and silent salute of her district in my head.

Derek makes a thoughtful sound, pulling my attention towards him. "I still can't believe what that girl did."

"No?" I ask, taking the opportunity to pull the mostly full bottle of whiskey away from him and give myself a glass. So, he was thinking about her too. I can't help but wonder what he makes of it.

He nods slowly, staring blankly at the ground in front of him before seemingly snapping back to reality. "Volunteers are one thing but… District 12? You've seen them, they rarely make it past the bloodbath. So for her to choose this, it's… it's incredible."

He pauses again, his eyes slightly squinted as if he's searching for a better word. I hold the glass at my lips, waiting a moment before taking a long drink. "They're always weak. There's no reason for her to be any different" I say, though I don't believe my own words. "She might be brave but she's an idiot."

"Maybe" Derek shrugs, taking an equally long drink. "I killed the tributes from 12. The boy that year was the first strong contender they'd had in years. And I killed him" he frowns into his drink. "Of course I couldn't know that Haymitch would win the next year, but I remember laying in the hospital bed and thinking that I just stole away that boy's chance and his district's chance. I didn't know if they'd ever have another one."

I watch him closely, surprised to hear him divulging so much information. "Do you think they do?" I ask "have another chance?"

"It's hard to tell" he makes a face at the blank T.V. screen. "All I know is that she isn't weak. Not just anyone could elicit that kind of reaction."

"What do you mean?" I ask, taking a small sip.

"She won't go down easy."

"Do any of them?" I snap "Just because you don't fight doesn't mean you don't care."

"It's just a thought" he sighs, leaning his head back against the chair. "Maybe this girl will get 12 the relief they need. God knows they need it."

The way he's speaking is unusual. He sounds both angry and sad, and somewhere in all of it he's just exhausted. But I can see the wonder in his eyes as he stares up at the ceiling. He's having the same thoughts I am, I'm sure of it. This girl got her district, live in front of the whole Capitol, to show defiance and unity. For just a moment, they followed the girl instead of the Peacekeepers.

"God has nothing to do with it," I mutter. I down the last of my drink and silently I wish well to Katniss Everdeen, wherever she may be on her way to the Capitol.