We are the reckless, we are the wild youth
Chasing visions of our futures
One day we'll reveal the truth
That one will die before he gets there

He knows the truth now. Or as much truth as Haymitch was willing to tell him. It's possible that it's all that Haymitch knows, although Peeta doubts it. Haymitch is much more involved in things than he lets on and he's already admitted that his Games were a catalyst of sorts as well. The rebellion at that time didn't have the right leader and a surly, standoffish sixteen-year-old Haymitch wasn't the symbol they were searching for. Still, his actions had set off rumblings within the districts and his blatant disregard for the Games, the arena, and the president had cost him dearly. After Haymitch lost his family and his girl, he learned to behave, to be quiet, to drown his reality in alcohol. The uprisings were silenced, and things returned to normal.

But how normal is all of this really? Baking under a hot, summer sun. Hoping your name isn't called. Hating yourself for wishing it's the person next to you. That had been Peeta only a year before. Now, he stands on a stage looking down at the tired, hungry, frightened faces. At least he knows the boys that stared at the ground or look at him with blank, hopeless eyes or fidget while sweat beads across their brow are safe. Haymitch told him that the rebellion has people deeply embedded in the Capitol, even Gamemakers and that he is to go back into the arena. He needs to fight. He needs to defy. He needs to be more than just a spark this time. He needs to be an inferno.

There will be others in the arena to help him; other victors who are also secretly a part of the rebellion and new tributes, like Katniss. Haymitch confirmed Peeta's suspicion that Katniss would be reaped, but he said that was the plan all along. It had nothing to do with Snow. And, while Haymitch couldn't guarantee anyone's safety – it is the Games after all – the plan is to conduct a rescue, disrupt the Games, cause chaos and start a war. All Peeta needs to do was stay alive and keep Katniss alive.

He isn't a violent person. He rarely raises his voice. In fact, he often goes out of his way to avoid conflict. Maybe it's because of the way he grew up: his mother's iron fist coming down on him again and again while his father's passive nature allowed him to turn a blind eye, to be willfully ignorant. But he likes the idea of a war. Maybe it's all the pent-up rage that has been boiling inside him for the past year. Maybe it's a deep-seated need for vengeance that lives inside of him even if he doesn't want to admit it. Either way, the thought of war excites him, motivates him, makes him eager to step foot into the arena again. It's not about death and destruction. He's never been built for that. It's the rebirth. It's the idea of cleansing and starting anew. The idea of change, of a life lived without fear or guilt or anger. He'll fight a war for that.

Haymitch slumps over in his chair acting far drunker than he really is. He belches loudly. A rumble of nervous laughter flows through the crowd. Effie Trinket totters onto the stage dressed all in gold from her hair to her shoes. She shoots Haymitch a disgusted look. He winks at her. She glares back for a moment before throwing on her biggest and brightest smile and welcoming everyone with an enthusiastic "Happy Hunger Games!"

She's met with silence, but that's nothing new. Peeta sees her grimace, hears her clear her throat. She glances back at him with a half-smile and he wonders if she might be among the hidden rebels within the Capitol and the Games. The film reminding everyone of the reason for the Games plays. Faces turn toward the screen, but no one pays attention. They've all seen this so many times before.

Effie walks to one of the bowls and pulls out the name of a girl. She's a tiny, frail thing, stepping out from the twelve-year-old section. She has dark hair and dark eyes and Peeta's heart bottoms out because she reminds him of Rue. And just like Rue, he knows he won't be able to save her either. He'll try, of course, but he'll have tributes that aren't a part of the rebellion to fight against and other victor tributes to keep alive, and Katniss and himself. He knows she will most likely die. He keeps his eyes trained on the trees in the distance.

Effie pulls a slip out of the next bowl and it's his name that is called. Shock ripples through the crowd. His father and brothers look on with deep sadness lining their faces. He couldn't tell them that he would be going back. It's best if they don't know anything. They'll be safer that way. Or, he hopes they will be.

They are escorted directly to the train. There are no goodbyes, no cookies from his father. The small girl sobs uncontrollably. He reaches out to console her, but she moves away following Effie to her room on the train.

"There's nothing you can do for that one, kid," Haymitch says, pulling him towards the bar car.

They gather together that night to watch the recaps of the Reaping. Peeta is anxious to see Katniss, to watch her reaction, to make sure she's doing well. He hunches over in his seat, elbows on his knees, leg bouncing nervously. Haymitch joins him on the couch, throwing his feet up on the coffee table in front of them and reclining in his seat. The girl, Aster, is huddled next to Effie. Peeta had ordered her a hot chocolate and she is relishing every sip. He smiles. He looks away. He blinks at the moisture gathering in the corners of his eyes and tries not to think about how in a week's time, Aster will most likely be gone.

Caesar Flickerman and Claudius Templesmith appear on the screen. Peeta suppresses a shudder at the memory of Claudius's naked body, the sneer on his lips as he watched Peeta being bound, the sweat that would collect on his chest as he watched Finnick pound into Peeta, his beady eyes filled with lust and glee.

The duo talks for a few minutes about the upcoming Quell and the twist that this year the Capitol could see some favorite victors returning to the arena. They move on to recap the reaping in District One. Peeta leans further forward. The escort reaches into the bowl for the name of the female tribute. Peeta's eyes search the faces in the crowd hoping to see purple hair. The escort reads the name, Pearl Acrum. Peeta glances at Haymitch who is now sitting up beside him.

Peeta watches as a small girl with crystalline blue eyes and long chestnut curls is forced from the horde of children, her face coated in disbelief, her wide, terrified eyes searching the sea of faces. The camera pans in the direction of her stare and Peeta sees a shock of purple hair before the scene cuts to the escort pulling a name from the male tribute bowl. A hulking mass of a boy steps forward from the back. He has to be at least seventeen, possibly eighteen, with chiseled features, perfect, white teeth, eyes the color of wheat, and shoulder-length wavy, brown hair pulled back at the nape of his neck. He is everything the Capitol looks for in someone new to fawn over. He will do exceptionally well with the sponsors. He smiles gleefully as he takes the stage. He shakes the small girl's trembling hand, never really looking at her.

The next image Peeta sees is the pair exiting their car, headed for the train. They typically don't show this and Peeta is confused why they would now until he sees it. Purple hair. Katniss pushes her way through the crowd. She is frantic, her skin pale, her eyes gleaming with unshed tears. She screams for her sister using the name the escort used, the name Peeta is unfamiliar with. Their eyes meet and instead of saying goodbye, he watches as Katniss rapidly moves her hands and fingers in front of her. Peacekeepers move in and the screen switches back to Caesar and Claudius.

The two drone on about the tributes from One, their odds, how Pearl is the youngest tribute One has had in fifty years, and the strange and tearful goodbye she had with whom they are told is her sister Amethyst Acrum. Peeta looks to Haymitch, who is back in his relaxed, reclined position on the couch, and all but ignores him. He doesn't miss the quick look of warning Haymitch points his way though. He must remain impassive. He must mask what he really feels. He'll need to find the right moment to talk with Haymitch. His insides are on fire. They watch the rest of the recap in silence only punctuated by Aster's small whimpers.

A mixture of victors and new faces are reaped. District Two produces tributes that are new but obviously Careers with menacing, lethal looks in their eyes. District Three reaps former victors Beetee and Wiress. Finnick is reaped in District Four as is a dark-haired former victor named Annie. She sobs uncontrollably while she clings to Finnick's hand. Finnick plasters on a tight smile which may fool the Capitol, but it doesn't fool Peeta. He recognizes that smile and the pain hidden in Finnick's eyes. Districts Five and Six reap new tributes, all of them terrified, fragile things from the twelve-year-old pens. Johanna is reaped in District Seven, along with another former victor named Blight. Districts Eight, Nine, Ten and Eleven all reap new tributes as well. A few are older, but most are no more than fourteen.

Later that night, after he had picked at his dinner, listened as Aster failed at muffling her cries from behind her bedroom door and seriously contemplated joining Haymitch in the bar car to drown his stress and awaiting nightmares in a sea of alcohol, Peeta sat on his bed trying to make sense of everything and trying not to throw up. His head drops from exhaustion, his chin touching his chest, only for him to jolt back awake. He's too afraid to sleep.

The train slows as they reach a fueling station. He hurries out of his room and into the cool night air, taking in deep breaths in a futile attempt to ease his queasiness. He's going to have to kill again. Who knows how many bodies will become lifeless at his hands. His fists shake. He walks away from the train, ignoring the attendant pleading with him to stay close, to be back on the train in twenty minutes. He slows when he reaches the tree line and hears another set of footsteps behind him. He whirls on his mentor, the anger and confusion finally finding a breaking point inside of him.

"What the fuck, Haymitch?" he seethes. "What happened? I thought you said the plan was for Katniss to be reaped."

Haymitch combs his fingers through his hair with a sigh. "It was. I don't know what happened. Every other district went as planned…well, except for Four."

"What happened in Four?" Peeta thinks back to the image of Finnick and the hysterical woman, Annie, on the television screen.

"Annie wasn't supposed to be reaped. She's – She's fragile. We would've never put her back in the Games." Haymitch crosses his arms and chews on his lower lip, his eyes on the night sky, thinking. He looks back at the train. "Has Finnick told you about Annie?" Peeta shakes his head. Haymitch scuffs the ground with the toe of his boot. "She's his girl. She had a rough Games and it left her a little – " he twirls his finger around his ear.

Peeta scoffs. "I'm pretty sure the Games left us all that way."

Haymitch grunts and shakes his head. "She's a little worse than most, but Finnick loves her and she's a different person with him. They are good for each other. She is his secret, or at least she was. But, if she's been reaped and Prim's been reaped in Katniss's place then…I don't know. It's possible Snow knows something."

"About the rebellion?"

Haymitch scrubs his hand over his face. "I've been thinking it over and those two reapings were too specific to be a mistake. The people on the inside wouldn't make that kind of mistake anyway." The train attendant's voice drifts their way. Haymitch starts back, beckoning Peeta to follow. "The only thing that makes sense is that Snow knows something and he's using Annie, Katniss, and Prim as punishment," Haymitch continues, voice low as they approach the train. Peeta reaches out a hand to stop him.

"When we get to the Capitol, you have to make sure that Katniss is safe. You have to let her know that I'll do everything I can to get Prim out."

Haymitch nods. "Her parents know about the rescue. There is a hovercraft already arranged to pick up rebels in the Capitol when the rescue in the arena happens. They are supposed to be on it. But I'll see what I can find out. I'll do what I can."

Haymitch claps Peeta on the shoulder and climbs back aboard the train. Peeta boards behind him hoping that the train attendant doesn't see the desperation on his face. He has a sinking feeling that if Snow is behind the reaping of Annie and Prim, then he knows exactly who Katniss is. It's what he'll do with that information that frightens Peeta the most. Katniss is in danger and Peeta will be trapped in an arena unable to save her this time.

He despises the costumes, the horse-drawn chariots, the screaming fans, the roses raining down, the sound of his name on their lips. All of it. He used to be a simple baker. He almost laughs at the thought. He likes Cinna and Portia. And they do their best turning Peeta and Aster into living, breathing flames. He flashes a smile and waves to the crowd. He tells Aster to do the same. She trembles beside him, clutching the side of the chariot. He takes her hand, squeezing it gently, and ignores the pain the feeling of her small hand in his stirs in his heart. He pushes the memory of Rue from his mind. He keeps smiling.

The training room is the only place to speak with other tributes. They are watched, and the room is bugged, but Peeta has no other opportunities to make contact outside of the arena. He spots her by the survival skills station and takes a chance. Her brown hair falls down her back in a single braid, reminding him of Katniss. He sits down and feigns learning how to build a fire. It's a ridiculous thing to learn how to do for the Games. Building a fire is a guaranteed way to get yourself killed, but maybe that's why the Gamemakers put this particular skill in for training. It keeps the Games moving, keeps the audience entertained.

She speaks first, keeping her voice low and her eyes on the edible plants she is studying. "She trusts you. She told me to trust you too, that you would keep me alive."

Her eyes drift from the plants to her district partner, the huge mass of a boy that Peeta learned is named Glint. He swings a broadsword with ease despite his size, his eyes scanning the room sizing up the opponents. He smirks. He's very well trained and so similar to Cato. Peeta's hands shake. He looks from Glint to Prim and back to the fire. He remembers Cato's eyes begging him for mercy, for death.

"I'll do everything I can to save you," he whispers because he can't promise to keep her alive. He doesn't want to lie to her. "Do you remember the melody Rue whistled in the last Games?" She nods. "When the clock reaches zero, run and hide. After the bloodbath, whistle those notes and I'll find you."

She nods again, her fingers creeping across the space between them to touch his. "She cares about you. She was prepared to die for you."

He swallows, squeezing her fingers. He isn't sure what to say because he was prepared to die for her too, and he still might have to. He doesn't understand what he feels for Katniss, this connection they have. Is it love? Is that possible after only a handful of days, a few spoken words, and one kiss? He doesn't want to discount his childhood crush, but how can he not? They were children and he isn't even sure she knew who he was then. He can't be sure she really knows who he is now. But he can't overlook how she makes him feel, how she's always made him feel. The heat he's felt since the first time he saw her again. The yearning. The need to know she's safe, to see her again, to touch her. He may never get the chance, but he will do everything in his power to get her sister back to her.

Prim wins over the audience at the tribute interviews. Caesar adores her which makes the audience love her even more. She is lovely and sweet and innocent. She's everything the Capitol likes to pretend to care about losing. Peeta watches her on the backstage monitor and smiles. She has them eating out of the palm of her hand. He's sure she'll have loads of sponsor money, although he doesn't know how Cashmere and Gloss will handle her aligning with Peeta and if that decision will cost her much-needed gifts. She beams and waves as she walks off stage. Glint enters the stage from the opposite side to thunderous applause. His charisma and wit match his good looks and Peeta can practically see the woman fainting in the aisles. If this were any other year, Glint would probably win, and he would be sold. And he would find out what it truly means to be a victor.

Finnick comes to stand beside him in front of the monitor. Peeta reaches out, gripping his friend's shoulder and squeezing gently. He wants to hug him, to thank him, to tell him how much he means to him before they are swallowed up by the arena tomorrow. He can't do that though, not without drawing too much unwanted attention.

"He reminds me of watching your first tribute interview," Peeta says with a sly grin, gesturing to the monitor.

Finnick crosses his arms over his chest and huffs. "Please. I'm much more handsome and not nearly as much of an asshole."

"If you say so," Peeta replies with a shrug.

Finnick pushes his arm and they both chuckle quietly. They stand silently together for a moment, watching the end of Glint's interview and the female tribute from Two take the stage. "When it's time tomorrow, I need you to get Annie and take her as far from the bloodbath as possible. I'll find you both after," Finnick murmurs, never taking his eyes off the screen.

"I – I don't want you to take on the bloodbath alone. I can stay and help you. We'll find Annie afterward. I need to find Pri – Pearl, too."

Finnick turns to look at him. His sea-green eyes are desperate. "Peeta, I need you to do this for me. Please. I need to know she's safe and I know she will be with you. And I – I can't risk losing either of you. You two are all the family I have left."

Peeta nods. "Okay. But, just get supplies and get out of there. Don't be a hero."

Finnick smiles softly, winks and turns back to the monitor. "That's too bad. I make such a fetching hero."

Aster is a complete surprise during her interview. As Peeta stands offstage awaiting his cue, he can't help the admiration that flows through him as he listens to the young girl. She's quiet and shy, but also smart and articulate. Cinna has dressed her beautifully and Caesar has masterfully poised his questions, so the audience is cooing and fawning over her by the end. She blushes when Caesar kisses her knuckles and waves bashfully as she walks off stage.

Peeta hopes she listens to the advice he and Haymitch have told her. He hopes she runs. He hopes she hides. He hopes he is able to find her and that she can stay safe within their alliance. He hopes that she will be able to be rescued too.

As he walks out into the spotlight, he sees the gleam of nervousness flash in Caesar's eyes. He's worried that Peeta will pull another stunt like the last time he was interviewed. But Caesar doesn't need to worry. Peeta isn't foolish enough to do that twice. There's also a rebellion, a rescue, and Katniss's safety to consider; which Haymitch hasn't been able to find much information on. Haymitch continues to reassure him that the rebellion will get the family out, but Peeta can't shake the uneasy feeling that has settled in the pit of his stomach, a feeling screaming at him that Katniss is in danger. So, he will play the role of the humble and grateful tribute victor for one last time. He'll grit his teeth and smile and tell them what they want to hear, and he'll try not to loathe himself for doing it. Then, he'll have tomorrow. Tomorrow he can be the rebel and voice that will start a war.

That night he can't sleep, and he's not surprised to find Aster awake as well. He shows her the rooftop and they watch the celebration below. She rubs her tired eyes with her fist, looking so much like a little child that it makes his chest hurt. He tells her that she should try to get some sleep, that she'll need the energy for the morning.

She nods her head, crossing her arms on the balcony ledge and resting her head on the crook of her elbow. "I know. I just don't want to waste the last few hours I have asleep."

His breath hitches and he looks away. He wants to tell her that he'll keep her safe and that she'll make it out. But he can't. He has to look after Annie and Finnick and Prim and Johanna. He isn't sure if there will be enough of him to look after Aster too. He'll try. Of course, he will. He's told her to run. Haymitch has told her to run. All they can hope is that she'll listen.

He eventually falls into a fitful sleep for a few hours before Portia knocks at his door as the sun crests over the mountains. Haymitch is nowhere to be seen and Portia doesn't know where he is. Peeta asks to check his room, to say goodbye, to try and ask about Katniss one last time, but Portia insists they have to go. The hovercraft is waiting. They can't be late.

Portia dresses him in a thick, skintight jumpsuit with zippers down the front. She says to expect wet weather or water because the material is moisture-wicking. She hesitates for a second before reaching into her pocket and pulling out a gold medallion on a thin leather strap.

"You don't have a token, so I took the liberty of having this made for you. I hope you don't mind."

She puts it over his neck, then presses a finger to her lips and moves her finger over a concealed latch on the back of the medallion. It springs apart on a hidden hinge and inside is an engraved symbol of the mockingjay he painted on the rock for Rue. Portia closes the medallion, tucks it into his jumpsuit, and kisses him tenderly on the cheek. He can't help himself when he pulls her into a hug. She's been so good to him, so kind, so much like the mother he wished he could've had. And he craves the contact. He needs the affectionate touch of someone who cares about him before he is lifted into this waking nightmare. She holds him tightly, only reluctantly letting go when it's time for him to enter the arena.

Salty air. Rushing waves. Blinding light. He blinks. The reflection of the bright sunshine off the glassy surface below him makes it difficult to see. Water laps against rocks at his feet. He shields his eyes, letting them adjust. He's surrounded by water and his already hammering heart speeds up. He doesn't know how to swim.

As he takes in the arena he sees that each tribute is standing on a pedestal in the middle of a great body of water, the cornucopia at the center with spokes like that on a wheel jutting out. He looks behind him and sees a beach but there is no getting past the fact that he will need to get into the water. To his left is a tribute from District Eight and to his right is Annie. The other tributes are too far away to make out. He doesn't know where Finnick or Johanna or Prim or Aster are. Annie's fists are at her sides, her eyes frantic. He remembers what Haymitch told him about her Games: a giant pool of water and everyone drowned except her.

Forty-five seconds left on the clock.

The humid air weighs down on him making him sweat beneath the thick suit. He licks his chapped lips. He remembers his promise to Finnick: get to Annie, get to the beach, keep her safe.

Thirty seconds.

If Prim or Aster is on the other side of the cornucopia, he's going to have to traverse the entire arena to get to them. He told them to hide and wait. It could take hours to reach them. They could be dead by then.

Twenty seconds.

He wonders if Katniss is watching. He wonders if she thinks of the kiss. If she can still feel it too.

Fifteen seconds.

Jump in. Kick toward the surface. Move your arms. Keep kicking until you reach land.

"Ladies and gentlemen. Welcome to the 75th Hunger Games," Claudius's voice booms through the air. "May the odds be ever in your favor."

"Ten."

Deep breath.

"Nine."

You can do this. Get to Annie, get to Prim, keep breathing, stay alive.

"Eight."

He thinks of her gray eyes and how the summer between their eighth and ninth year, she started wearing her dark hair in one braid instead of two.

"Seven."

He thinks of how her fingertips felt pressed into his shoulders.

"Six."

And the shiver that ran down his spine when his lips grazed her neck and she whispered his name.

"Five."

Please be okay. Please be somewhere safe.

"Four."

He closes his eyes.

"Three."

Exhale.

"Two."

Inhale.

"One."

Jump.

A/N: I foolishly thought I could capture all of Peeta's time from the reaping to the end of the Quell in one chapter. I ended up writing over 10k words. So, I split it into two chapters and I'm posting them both together.

I'm sorry about the wait!

Lyrics at the top are from the song "Youth" by Daughter