"Let me tell you this: if you meet a loner, no matter what they tell you, it's not because they enjoy solitude. It's because they have tried to blend into the world before and people continue to disappoint them"

~My Sister's Keeper

The morning peaks in, waking me long before I have the energy or desire to get up. My head aches in response to the combination of the sun, alcohol, and torture of this damned train.

My thoughts immediately return to the Games. My tributes already have a death sentence, which means suffering through the next few days with them before trying to erase them altogether. Almost as soon as I think of them I remember Katniss. Even remembering her scene raises goosebumps on my arms. Hopefully Haymitch is sober enough to realize the chance he has.

I pull myself out of bed, my stomach violently complaining at the sudden movement. I sway on my feet for a moment before pushing through the door and shuffling to get coffee. It's hot, almost painfully so, but it helps wake me up.

I take a few minutes before getting in the shower and digging out clean clothes. Part of what I think is so captivating about it all is that she volunteered for her sister. It's less strange to see a child get taken to die because their older siblings won't take their place than to see a volunteer. That kind of devotion is rare. I tell myself that's what I would have done for Lily, but I guess I'll never have to know for certain. Sibling loyalty only goes so far.

But if I could trade places with her now, I would. My life for hers wouldn't take a second of thought. But I wasn't given a choice, which I envy. It's strange, envying a girl who likely gave up her life, and yet here I am.

I get dressed in plain jeans and a black shirt, which I'm sure Lucille will comment on later. I'm leaving my room just in time to catch Marta and Oliver talking quietly in the hall between their rooms.

For a brief moment they don't notice me. They're both tense – I can feel the waves of anxiety rippling off them as they talk. I watch curiously, wondering what they could have to talk about. None of the tributes ever seem to want to interact with each other much, unless they're planning on creating an alliance that is. Kane all but hated me, even tried to kill me once the Games started.

Oliver notices me first and I see the flash of surprise, followed but the uncomfortable shifting of getting caught. "Breakfast is this way" I say sharply, turning abruptly down the hall.

By the time I make it to the table, both Derek and Karina are already seated and waiting. Oliver and Marta follow me silently, each taking their places without looking at me. Whether it's because they're afraid of me or I caught them doing something, I don't know.

Karina seems to tune out the conversation as soon as Derek directs it towards the tributes. Marta is seventeen and has spent the last two years in the Community Center with her sister after her mother died in a logging accident. It's a story I know all too well. She's been in the paper mills ever since, so she doesn't even work with the axes. Clearly it's not as valuable of a skill as we're given credit for, proven by our sparsely populated Victor's Village.

Oliver comes from an enormous family and one of the few farms in the district. He was almost guaranteed to get reaped with the amount of slips in the pool. He's more optimistic than most tributes, which some part of me wants to crush. Apparently he's also good with an axe. No shit.

It's almost a relief when we begin to pull into the Capitol because it means that we can stop talking about their lives. They're going to die anyway; I don't see why I should be subjected to their entire life stories before they do. Besides, the less I know, the less I have to remember when they're dead.

When we get off the train there's the normal press circus waiting to get the first look at the tributes in person. I'm sure it's rather anticlimactic.

The car ride is long – at least it feels like it. Karina chatters enthusiastically with the tributes, actually getting Oliver to perk up a little. I keep my hand held against my temples, trying to rub away the headache living there. "I swear to God if you don't shut up I'm going to push you out of the moving car" I hiss to no one in particular.

They both fall silent. Oliver goes red in the face and looks down at his hand. I don't feel bad – it's not like I'm doing anything worse to him than Snow.

We hand the tributes over to the prep teams and start the walk back to the elevators. Derek sighs heavily, "is it too early to start drinking?"

I smile slightly, pretending not to notice the stares of a group of flamboyantly dressed individuals walking the opposite way down the hall. "Does it matter? Drink yourself dead for all I care."

I run my fingers through my hair, winching as I catch on a tight knot. Derek punches his fist into the elevator buttons to call an elevator down. He laughs at me, sounding more genuine than normal. I'm glad he gets my sense of humor. "You shouldn't joke like that" I turn to see Karina starring at us with pursed lips. I hadn't even realized she was still with us.

"Why not?" I hiss. "It's not your problem."

She shrinks at having me focus my attention on her. "Johanna" she says hesitantly after a moment "I'm not your enemy." She presses her lips together, trying to appear firmer than I know she is.

I narrow my eyes at her, loading them with as much venom as I can muster. "Yes. You are. You don't care about me. You've never cared about me. If I had died three years ago you wouldn't even remember me. You just want the fame that comes with my name. You are my enemy, and if I thought it worth my time, I'd slit your throat too."

Her face pales and she immediately loses all confidence. "Walk away" I demand.

I think she's on the verge of tears as she practically runs in the opposite direction. I stare after her, not caring that the elevator has arrived and is waiting. It's the sound of laughing that pulls my attention away from her. "You haven't changed at all, have you?"

I turn to see Finnick, approaching slowly with Brenda and an older woman trailing after him. Mags I remember after a moment. "Why should I?" I ask, glancing at the old woman.

"You shouldn't."

"I won't" I spit back, my skin still crawling with irritation.

"Hey" he raises his hands up in mock surrender, "I'm not your enemy." So he was here the whole time apparently. Fantastic.

"Finnick I swear to God" I groan, turning back towards the elevator. The doors have since given up on us and I push the button to call it back.

"Mags" I murmur in acknowledgment. I feel obligated to at least greet her, knowing her and Finnick's close relationship. She smiles at me and I peer at her, eyebrows raised. I nod at her once and she gives me yet another sickeningly kind smile. "Let's take a walk" he adds, giving me a look that's anything but innocent.

"Sure" I say nonchalantly, glancing between Derek, Brenda and Mags. They all look at the elevator, clearly listening but pretending to be disinterested. I stop myself from rolling my eyes and turn away from them to face Finnick.

He nods his head for me to follow and I do. Mostly we just weave through the hallways in silence until we come to a different set of elevators. Obviously he wants to talk about something that can't be overheard, but this seems a little ridiculous. My head still hurts and all I want is to sit down in the dark, not wander through Capitol hallways.

I lean against the elevator wall, staring at him intently. "This better not be a long walk" I mutter, earning one of his wide smiles. As much as I try to be annoyed, I can't help but smile back.

We go all the way to the roof. The wind isn't strong enough to be uncomfortable, but my hair clings to my face. I follow slowly until Finnick stops on the far side, leaning against the brick siding to some locked maintenance room.

"Did you have a good winter?" I ask sarcastically, electing to sit against the wall instead of stand.

"Always do" he shrugs, sitting beside me, close enough that our arms touch. "What about you?"

"I'm sure it would've bored you."

"Hopefully."

I look at him, raising my eyebrows questioningly at the tone in his voice. I know what he's hinting at. A few weeks before the Victory tour one of the older tributes in District 4 decided to pick a fight with the Peacekeepers. He earned himself a public flogging for it, as well as the beating the Peacekeepers gave him. It was aired live as well as replayed for the next two weeks every time I turned on the T.V.

"Jack can still hardly walk" Finnick sighs. "He's a good guy, didn't do anything other than try to buy some bread for a homeless girl. Peacekeepers decided to make up a rule saying that was against the law but he didn't care" he makes a pained face. "He didn't come when Snow called, so they punished him."

"He's stupid" I sigh, looking away from him to the open sky.

I lean my head against the wall, thinking over Finnick's words. Snow either knows that beating and floggings won't get him anywhere with me or I haven't pissed him off enough yet to warrant it. I almost welcome him to try. "You have a new baby?" Finnick cuts in.

"William's granddaughter" I say distractedly.

The baby was born a few weeks ago. His family was all over the Village celebrating. Derek and Adele dragged me along once to see the little boy once he was born, but that was all I needed. William was thrilled, of course, but I could see the way his face shriveled every time he looked at the infant. I can imagine what he sees when looking at him – a young boy being sent to the slaughter because of his grandfather.

We talk meaninglessly for a while; nothing incriminating, and nothing warranting sitting up on the roof. I'd be more annoyed if the sun didn't feel so good over my legs. I'm half ready to fall asleep when I hear the elevator doors opening. I jerk forward but Finnick grabs my arm. He looks relaxed but I stay on edge until I see Beetee and Wiress turning the corner.

"You invited nuts and volts?" I hiss at him.

Finnick smirks and rolls his eyes. "Don't be a bitch" he says, amused.

He rises to his feet, greeting the District 3 geniuses warmly. I'm content to stay sitting in the sun but Finnick pulls me to my feet – gently albeit unwanted. "I told you she wouldn't be a problem" Finnick laughs, hitting me lightly with his elbow. I shoot him a glare and roll my eyes.

Beetee evaluates me over his glasses. "You had something you wanted to talk about" Finnick prods.

"Of course. Our tributes this year are very small, very young, and I've been offered a fair sum from a sponsor provided I can give him something in return" he pauses, looking at me. I press my lips together, knowing exactly where he's going. "It just so happens that this Mr. Andersen is highly involved in the construction of the underground sewer systems beneath the Capitol. He does much of his work in his home office and is very deserving of a break."

Finnick makes a noise, "you want to trade Johanna for useless sponsor money?"

"Of course not. I would like Ms. Johanna to help a friend." Beetee reaches up and readjusts his glasses. "Wiress and I would be incredibly grateful for your assistance."

"You think we're friends?" I ask with a scoff. I know what he isn't explicitly saying, and while I know I'll comply, it makes my stomach tighten just having this conversation.

"Not in the traditional sense, no. But we have a specific… comradery, don't you think?"

I cross my arms, starring off the edge of the roof in thought. If there's any hope of ousting Snow then of course I want to help, but why does it always involve me losing my clothes? Chewing on my cheek, I think of all the ways I could back out, refuse to do it and spend the night in bed, alone.

"It would mean more than you know" Beetee finishes, looking at me directly.

"Fucking hell" I moan and Finnick looks over at me.

Wiress snaps her head up, catching my attention for the first time. Her eyes are wide and shine in a way that makes me uncomfortable; there's definitely something off about her. "I believe it's a rather simple question we're asking. Will you help us or not?"

My jaw tightens as I look back between the two of them. He's right, it's simple, but why is it so hard for me to agree to it? I'm in a perfect position, a perfect candidate – young, not too ugly, famous, and accessible. My popularity is my protection.

Everyone wants me and no one expects me.

"Jo?" Finnick asks, "you okay?"

"Yeah" I murmur, facing Beetee again. "I'll help you. But you owe me."

My throat feels like it's constricting, like something's blocking the air but it just keeps tightening. A sweat breaks out on the back of my neck as I remember the night, now three years ago, when I was slapped, thrown against the wall and raped with enormous hands wrapped around my throat. That's what made me snap – and that's what killed my family. Thinking back now, I don't think he was going to kill me, but in the moment, so fresh out of the arena… I panicked, and I paid the price for it.

I was scared, and I didn't have a choice.

Finnick ends the conversation, either seeing the cold sweat on my forehead or having the common sense not to linger. Beetee gives the details in a hurried conversation with Finnick while I lean against the wall, trying not to start crying, or screaming. It's relatively simple, get pictures of some maps that should be kept in a desk. The only caveat is that in order to get into his house without breaking in, means I have to have sex with him. Apparently he's been asking about me for a while. I can do it, but it makes my skin crawl.

Nuts and Volts leave back down the elevator and I let myself lean back against the brick. I'm suddenly exhausted and my headache has tripled in intensity. I clench my eyes shut, just for a moment, before striking out for the elevator. Tonight's going to be longer than I expected.

"Can I do something?" Finnick asks gently. He feels bad, but he has the better sense than to say something like I'm sorry.

I shake my head, my eyes watching the digital numbers as they rise "Nope."

We lounge on his floor for the rest of the afternoon, drinking just enough to feel fuzzy, but not enough to get drunk. His escort reminds us casually of the time when the sun begins to set in an attempt to tell us to get down to our tributes. I give the woman a vicious glare but get to my feet anyway.

We part once we reach the enormous room of chariots. I stay perfectly silent as Derek talks to Marta and Oliver, my eyes dancing around the room as he coaches them. Five chariots down I catch sight of the District 12 martyr, her back facing me as her stylist makes his final alterations. What catches my eye is Haymitch. He's clean shaven, attentive, and doesn't have the glossy shine of alcoholism in his eyes. He's sober. It's enough to bring a surprised smirk to my lips, but Derek snaps me out of it when the tributes are loading up and the doors pull open.

I keep my arms crossed over my chest as I watch from our hidden alcove. My tributes are as good as ignored. Every tribute is when flames erupt out of the District 12 chariot. Even Derek gives a breath of surprise at the sight. It drives the crowd mad, erupting into screams louder than I thought possible.