The original work belongs to Suzanne Collins and her publishers or any other co-owner. I'm merely borrowing her epic work to make my own spin; the idea of a time-travel simply refusing to leave me alone, so I had to write it.

I'm making no profits from this and the story isn't that good, if you haven't read Collins magnificent work I suggest you do. My messy fanfic is but a gnat in her shadow. If anyone is offended I'm very sorry.

Chapter 3

The first thing I'm aware of is that my entire body is aching; feeling heavy, foreign and to small. The second is that I'm laying on something hard and cold but yet soft, I try to open my eyes but it's too much of a bother.

I remain in the position I woke up in with my eyes closed and just try to breathe. Not understanding what is going on; the last I remember is excruciating pain and then… death; am I dead? Is this the afterlife? Is Prim here? Or am I alive? I have a hard time believing that dead people should feel any pain. Also; why would I, as a dead person, even have a thought or conscience.

It's slow in coming but after a while I start to become aware of my surrounding. I can hear a goat walking around and bleat on the other side of a wall, tied down to something since it is not moving away. I can feel that I am undressed for the cold air is settling like a blanket over my bare arms and legs.

A cat is meowing and moving about in the space I am in. Not in distress but more to annoy the souls nearby, almost like Buttercup used to do when he knew I was tired; I still hate that cat. I can smell coal in the air that is distinct for district twelve, so wherever I am it is close to home. Next I believe myself to smell my mom's herbs and soap as well as Prim´s; the mere smell of my sister brings tears to my eyes. I almost start hyperventilating.

To this day I still can't stand any memories of my beloved sister, the sister I failed and led to death. My guilt is too great and my loss even greater for forgiveness to be allowed. Prim was more than a sister, she was a compass… a daughter. I let the world take her away and for that there is no repentance.

Her smell take over my senses, I can almost imagine that she is here, near me; Safe and sound. I try to ignore it and instead turn my focus inwards, something big happened before everything was colored in pain. That much I can remember; something vital occurred and for the life of me I can't remember what.

Not until a soft winds blows into the room and takes with it smell of the morning dew, wet coal and the smell of Primroses. The smell of the flowers is like a kick start of an engine. A wave of memories and information returns; how I and Peeta went to the party, my thoughts about my home and family and then the meeting with Beetee. The explosion and how the event leading to it is the cause of my current pain. Something went horribly wrong in that room, something that caused me such pain that I now can only remember a small part of it.

I shiver at the thought, and I feel how the pain intensifies for a seconds as the shiver travels through my body. I realize that it is phantom pain I have and not a real one. I'm not really injured I just believe that I am; which means I can move my body; I just have to convince my head that the pain is false.

The thought of how my body can have lived through such pain and torture without any real damage don't stand thinking about, the imagine one is excruciating as it is. I have lived through a lot though and I can make myself bare this. I want to get out of here, I can still sense Prim in the air and need to get away; no pain will stop me.

I force my eyes open and the first thing I see is a grey wall. The next is the ugliest yellow cat ever born sitting on the floor staring at me. My entire world narrows down to that cat, amplification by his mere existence. A clump forms in my stomach and I feel acid building up in the back of my throat. I can feel panic growing inside me. But I bit it back and narrow my eyes, disbelief being my weapon, and start to scrutinize the cat more closely. It must be another cat then the one I first believe it to be.

The more I look the more I notice the similarity; the cat is missing half an ear, he has a pushed in pug-nose, two ugly green eyes and puke-yellow fur. I refuse to admit it but the cat before me can be no other than Buttercup. He has been dead for over ten years. He had died an old cat doing what he loves the most, shredding all my dresses in my closet and chewing on my hunting boots. All the same he is sitting before me, staring at me with hate in his eyes; a hate so normal for us that I feel myself responding with equal hate out of habit.

Suddenly I hear movement above my head, my head snaps in that direction and the most painful and jet wonderful image fills my sight. Though a small door just a few feet away from me I can see a child's face, framed by soft baby-blonde hair. The child is curled into a ball and spooning with a woman in her late thirties in a dirty bed, underneath a thin blue-colored blanket.

My heart stops and I can't breathe, tears burning my eyes. Everything is spinning and I desperately want the world to stop. This can't be happening, this is not real. My heart is cramping and my breaths are coming in short gasps. I forget about my earlier pain as my entire world narrows down to the girl's´ face.

I count every breath she takes; I see every movement behind her closed eyes; I drink in every freckle that litters her face. For the longest time my world is just her face and nothing else. I soon need to get closer, I'm like a junkie that needs a fix and all I suddenly can think of is: hug her, shake her, make sure that she is there, that she is alive.

I force myself up on unsteady legs that feels stiff and cramped and also shorter than they should, but I don't care.

I take a clumsy step towards the child and stumble. I almost fall. The contact brakes and the spell is broken. The only thing I see now is a dirty brown floor. I can't bring myself to raise my gaze again; to confirm my earlier sight and allow hope to grow, or worse for hope to be destroyed. I turn slowly, my back to the angelic face; to that beautiful but so very painful vision.

I instead focus my stare on the room I'm standing in. I'm screaming inside, but not a sound leaves my lips. I'm not certain if I'm crying or not. It's my room, in my old home; it´s all too much, too much. It can't be real, it must be a trick, a torture device, a hell.

Surrounding me is the smallest room in existence, a metal-plate-room that is rectangular and at most two meter wide and three meter long. little space to move in, but that was normal in the old Seam.

The only thing in the room is two small shelves, a couple of hooks and a thin bed; school-books litter the shelves and clothes hang on the hooks. Prim never had a bed of her own; she always slipped into mine or mom's, so there is only one bed, with one blanket. I can feel a whine breaking out of my throat; so many memories exist in this room.

I need to get out, to get away. The room is too small, I can´t breathe in here. I need space to think. I feel so weak, scared and helpless; nothing about this is right. It's a nightmare… A horrible and dreadful nightmare. I turn and sit down on the bed, desperately looking for a pair of shoes. I find them where they always were; at the head of the bed. The same with my pants and sweater; hidden underneath the thin pillow at the head of the bed; to keep them warm and away from the rodents.

I refuse to raise my face as I get dressed, to afraid of what's to see. I´m working on auto-pilot and my hands are shaking. Making me struggle with the white-grey sweater for a minute, but I finally get it on. The green pants unfold easier, but I hesitate in trying them on, they look to small. It is then I take a look at myself. It takes a few seconds before I realize what I see and I almost scream in despair.

I close my eyes hard and start to force air through my nose. I will not think… not until I have gotten out of here. When I am out and away then I can break down, but not now and not here.

I get dressed in silence, trying not to wake the occupants in the other room. When I have the last boot on I try to get up again. I´m feeling dizzy, disoriented and have a massive headache. Otherwise I'm a bit better physically than when I woke, the imagined pain my body was in is almost gone. I take a couple of stumbling steps towards the door and manage to get out to the small corridor without fainting and enter the kitchen.

Not once do I look up, I just follow the floor below me and tries to get to the door as fast as I can manage without falling apart. But as I open the door I can hear a female voice coming from behind me.

"Katniss?" It's her; she has woken up and as always she is looking for me. I can hear here start moving around, clearly beginning her morning rituals when she discovered the bed empty. I can't face her, not know, not EVER. I forget to move careful; instead I slam the door open and start running as fast as I can make myself.

"Katniss, was that you?" is the last thing I hear before I manage to round a house corner and loose myself in the labyrinth that is the Seam. I'm not stopping, desperately looking for a safe place to break down; to get somewhere calm where I can think.

…

Wherever I turn everything is as it used to be. No burned buildings in the down area. There are the old houses I used to play between when my father lived and hide behind when peacekeeper came to the Seam. The coalminers dirty shacks and worn down houses pushed together, hardly leaving any free space for walking. Not looking where I'm going I move down the mace of buildings. But I soon come to a dead stop.

In front of me a mass of dark figures are moving slowly between the houses. It's the coal miners, coming back from their night-shift. I stare at them, at the man and women with dirty faces and dead eyes moving in a slow pace down the paths open for them. Some disappears into houses, others into dark alleyways and out of sight. They are close and I can feel the stench of their sweat mix in with coal. It nauseates me. After the war the miners had demanded better living arrangements, work hours, tools and cleaning supplies. Even though the smell of coal could never be diminished the miners could go home cleaner and safe.

The sight before me is a horrifying one; it´s like all the joy and hope has died for this people. Not one of the faces moving towards me has a spark of hope or a fire in them. They are more or less dead and world very. Like mom used to be, like Gale´s parents used to be. I realize as the first men move past me that I am standing at the end of the Seam, close to the middle class district, far away from a safe place to think. I have missed the coalmine district, the hob as well as the meadow.

If I had kept on running I would have entered peacekeeper-territory and the square. Whether or not this is real I am back in the old district twelve as it were before the bombing and fire. Peacekeepers are not my friends and gaining their attention has never been good for anyone.

I turn slowly, glade for the adrenalin and ace in my body. The run has managed to distract me and I want to keep myself distracted until I get away. The only place I can think of that could give me sanctuary is the forest. It´s a long way there, but at least I know nobody will be around.

A sudden strong wind hits my back and my loose hair whips around my face. The smell of fresh baked bread comes with it. I freeze. My eyes are wide open, so open that I can feel the tearing up from being subjected to the air. "Peeta." I whisper and as another strong wind hits me breathe in deep.

I can't stop what happens next. My entire body convulses and I have to throw myself toward the nearest wall to maintain standing. I'm puking and sweating and I realize that I'm having a panic attack. Nobody around me cares; they have seen it all before and keep on walking.

I can't stop myself from heaving, not even when there´s nothing left to throw up. I feel dead on my feet and want it all to stop. My mouth is dry and taste of death. My body is weak and shaking. I have no clue what's going on and that scares me the most.

Long after the streets are empty again I finally have enough strength to move. On shaky legs I start to orient my way amongst the dark houses toward the meadow; trying to ignore my weakened state. I pass the cluster of houses, then the hob and then the mining factory. All without running into any more people; which I am grateful for. It takes a long time since I need a short rest every few meters, the stress taking it's toll on me.

When for the start of the meadow begins emerging I have to get down on all four and crawl the last hundred or so feet up the hill to get to the fence. It´s not my usual place, so it takes me a while to find an opening big enough to get through. It feels foreign to have a fence surrounding twelve again, for many had wanted the fence gone after the war. Their fear of the wilderness aside.

As soon as I'm through I lay flat on my back, not caring for the bugs or the dirt that's underneath me, and stare at the sky. When I gained conscious this morning the clock must have been around four or five, now it was late morning. I estimate it to at least being seven or eight o'clock. As I lay there in the grass with the sun shining down I'm lulled to an exhausted sleep.

…

When I wake it's the sun is high in the sky and my body feels better than before. I slowly move my joints and test my strength. The panic-attack has run its course and even though I feel exhausted I am confident that I can walk. It is unsafe to linger long this open; I need a place to think.

As I get my bearings I feel grateful that the meadow is such an open and flat area. I can easily spot familiar three lines and landmarks. Knowing instantly where my bow and arrow are likely to be. I soon find them inside a hollow log, swept in piece of fabric. I strap them to my back, feeling more secure and confident with their weight on me.

As soon as I'm swallowed by the trees I start to feel more at ease. My body is a bit dehydrated and hungry, but I ignore it. Water isn't far off and it seems to be late summer, there must be some berries and mushrooms nearby. Thanks to my father I know where the best places for both kinds are. I'm not in a risk of being spotted by a hover-craft or a cam-halo since I'm not far enough out of the district.

After the war many of secrets about the capitols spy-network was answered. Their ability to come from a highly intelligent computer; it had the ability to register certain words, phrases and actions. It could also use any speaker, screen or halo-cam to spy. As long as you avoided certain keywords or went too far out it really hadn't paid any attention to you at all. The exception being the yearly reaping; scrutiny of the various districts always becoming more severe to prevent an uprising.

The fresh air of the forest fills my lungs, calming me. The peaceful life of the forest feeling like home. Birds singing in the trees, squirrels scavenging for food. A snake is sunbathing on a rock and two deer's are calmly roaming amongst the trees. I'm thankful for the wilderness, knowing that no other is in this forest empowers me.

Soon I come to a water stream and after drinking some cold water and washing my face I almost feel human again. Some blueberries are growing on a hill close by and I feast on the delicacies, my stomach growling in hunger. I'm woken from my serenity when a branch snap in the forest. At first I think it's a animal, but then I hear a person swearing. I pale, my heart start beating fast and I start sweating again.

There someone in here with me, but who? I quickly look for a place to hide, but nothing looks safe. Then I see a small hole two between boulders a few meter to my right, next to the water draft. It will be a close fit. I need to lose the bow and arrows. I quickly dig into the soft ground underneath me, lifting the moss and plants and hide my treasures. It looks weird but it might work.

The person getting closer, the steps seeming moving in my direction. Was I seen? I ran the last few steps to the boulders and force my body in between the gap. I soon find myself in an awkward position, my arms and legs pressed tightly to my body, but I'm hidden from sight. My legs are soon cramping, my back aching and I can feel the rough edges of the rocks biting into my skin. I can hardly breathe I´m so curled up, but the footsteps gets closer and I don't have time to get comfortable.

"Katniss." A gentle voice says in a loud whisper. I recognize it and almost swear out loud. Of course it is him. First Prim, then the miners and Peeta. Why not him, for who cares that a lady might need a breather. Oh no, let's throw in Gale to the mix. I can feel panic as well as a deep hot anger growing inside me. I almost reveal myself just so that I can vent my anger on him. I don´t.

A shadow moves over the hole and I gleam the person standing a few feet away from me.I have to stifle a gasp. It's not a man I see, but a boy; a teenage boy, not older than fifteen, that's half-starved and nervously looking for his friend. Gale young appearance makes everything finally hit home and tears starts falling down my cheeks. I had almost convinced myself to this being a simulation or a torture session, but there is no way that a young Gale would be used in either cases.

In a simulation I would never have thought of him this way. Not in a million years, not since the bombs killed Prim. This forest is my sanctuary, Gale no longer has a place in it. Not even a young and innocent Gale. Besides, everyone else sees Gale as a strong soldier and hero, they wouldn't think of portraying him as he once was. Especially if they wanted me to seek comfort in him. But if it's all real then of course Gale would be here, the forest was as much his hiding place as mine back then... here.. now?! And of course he would follow me and look for me in the forest, we almost always hunted together.

I can remember our days before my reaping, how I thought him grown and big, almost like an adult. he has always been tall and for the kids in district twelve he was amongst the strongest and healthiest of the boys, even though his family was as poor as mine. Mom used to say that he had sucked all of the health out of his mother since his younger sibling was all shorter and sick looking. But now I have to disagree, the boy in front of me is not the boy I remember. He looks so thin and weak.

His dark hair is so lifeless; his skin pale beneath the filth and his face is so hollowed out because of prolonged starvation and food shortage. I know that if I had a mirror I would look the same; thin, pale and sickly. I am thankful for the fact there was no mirror in the room this morning. Seeing myself as I where all those years before would have driven me over the edge.

I hardly notices when Gale walks away, softly calling for me. I don´t notice that I am alone for the longest time, not until I have lost a feeling in my body and my tears run out. Then first I began to move, to try getting out of the hole I´m in.

When I'm finally out I collect my bow and arrows and move deeper into the forest. The day is soon over, long shadows starts to swallow up the forest floor. I don't care, I let my feet take me where they want to go. Everything that´s happened today being too much to process. After walking for a while I find myself on a hidden path which I realize will lead me to the lake cabin my father had showed me all those years ago, when he wanted to teach me how to swim.

I quicken my steps, knowing that at last I'll have a refuge. After a while I finally see the shadow of the house and I start to jog, then run. I don´t stop until my left hand touches the wall of the small abandoned cabin. The minute I enter the rundown building I start screaming and I don´t stop. I scream, rage, hit at and throw everything in sight. I keep doing this until my knuckles are bleeding, my voice is hoarse and my anger has run its course. It's like a storm breaking out of containment. It's not long before I have nothing left to give. I can't even bring up the energy to cry.

The only thing left is to think, analyze and coop. The first thing I have to deal with is the fact that I seem to have wakened up in the past. That itself should be an impossibility; it goes against the very law of nature, space and time. Then again this is Beetee's doing and the genius can do anything with enough time, mix that together with a power-hungry district thirteen and you get this I suppose.

I´m in the past, with everyone I love deaged and alive, but again oppressed by the capitol. All those lives and sacrifices for naught, misery and death a way of life. For what life is there to have when your every waking moment is focused on surviving and not dying.

I'm not especially intelligent and after many crazy ideas the only logical scenario I can think of is one. That the clash of beams between his machine and the other device somehow had defied reality and forced me into the past. But why weren't I older? I am after all twentysix years old, I have no place in a child's body, even if it is mine.

Could it be that the pain I remember experiencing really happened? That whilst I woke up after thinking that I had died my body was still destroyed? I can remember feeling my skin melt and my body burning, maybe that really happened. But then why AM I HERE? Shouldn't I be dead in the future, where Beetee, Gale and Peeta were?

Gah! It's all so confusing and daunting. Why me of all people, I can't deal with this type of shit. I'm a hunter and not a scientist; there had been over fifteen people in that room, why the hell was I the one waking up here. I'm not suppose to be here. I´m supposed to be home with my family, tending to my garden and hunting in the forest.

Oh no! my kids… no, no, no, NO. If.. if I´m here and this really is happening then that means my kids hasn't been born yet. My heart feels like it's breaking and I give out an animalistic shout. They took away my babies. If I ever see Beetee and Gale again I will kill them. It's the last thought I have before my brain shuts down. My mental stability shut to hell and the young body I´m now in unable to handle the strain.

Chapter 4

I wake up by a bird picking on my fingers. I let it, not really caring about something so trivial. I am laying on the floor in the run-down cabin and just allow the air around me calm me as I think. The trashed cabin, with its broken window, small pantry and bare floors is alight in the early morning light. There is hardly anything in here except for me and the bird. An old abandoned cabin that has decayed under the weight of time and nature.

This house is not so unlike me. It is stuck in a time where it seen much of everything and knows what's coming. It's almost poetic in a way; that the house, just as empty as me, is still standing and fighting. Fighting to live and to once again find a place in the world.

Yesterday I panicked and allowed the situation to get the better of me. The first thing you learn in the Hunger Games is that if you give in to stress, fear and despair you will crumble and die.I will not crumble and I will not die. I have lived through too much and sacrificed so many to earn myself a life; I will not let this be the thing that breaks me.

I snap my fingers in the bird's face and it flies away in fright. I get up and brush dust and dirt from my cloths, taking stock that both my pants and sweater has several scrape-holes and grass-spots. I need to look over any injuries I might have gain in my mad dash around the forest.

Yesterday I lost myself in all the panic. I allowed the situation to get to me and ran around like a crazed dog. It's no wonder that I feel so exhausted and thirsty, my entire body feels like a log and cracks as I stretch it. I make my way down to the lake and wade into the water without caring for my clothes and boots. The water is ice-cold and I have to bite my tongue to prevent a scream from breaking out.

After drinking greedily from the water and washing my face I look around. There is nothing here except for me and the forest. I can see some birds amongst the three-crowns, but the majority seems to still be sleeping for hardly any birdsong is heard.

I can feel the cold water seeping into my clothes and caress my skin. I get goosebumps from it and I laugh at the silliness. I can't help the half-hysteric laughter that breaks out and disrupts the calm over the lake. My life as I know it is over and here I am in my own familiar forest getting shills.

I feel so lost right now but the only thing that I can do is deal and move on. If there was something that I got from yesterday's madness is that allowing shock and panic to get the overhand will lead to nothing. I have lived through horrible situations where everything and everyone around me wanted to destroy me. Getting stuck in the past, while horrible, is not the worst thing that could happen to a person. Or so I try convince myself.

During my exhausted sleep I had a lot of old nightmares; dreams that reminded me of how much I can take; how strong I can be when the odds are against me. So that is what I'm going to do, deal and survive for I am not that kind of person that just gives up.I am Katniss Everdeen, the girl on fire and the symbol of deliberation and survival.

I don´t break that easily.

…

After making up a small fire inside the cabin I take of my cloths and hand them on the rotting door to dry.

Before getting out of the lake I hadn´t been able to resist diving into the cold water, knowing that the coldness would shock my sense awake, thus leaving me dripping wet. The only thing still dry is my weapons which I had thrown into a corner in my anger yesterday. Thankfully there was no damage done to them and I could shoot a passing bird for breakfast. It won´t give much food but it will sustain me until I can think out a plan of action.

Naked and cold I settle in front of the fire and start plucking the dead crow. I soon have it skewed on a pike and roasting.

My first plan of action is to calmly decide how I want to proceed; should I go about my day as naturally as possible, just be a kid from twelve that´s trying to survive and are afraid of the capitals shadow. Or should I try to manipulate thing and make a voice for myself: that would be tempting but would probably lead to a quick death.

Even when the survivors in my district hide themselves in district thirteen it seemed like president Snow could reach them. Many during that time were too scared of the outcome of the war that they attacked anyone that dared speak their mind too much. People like me and Gale was seen as heroes but also as rebels, instigators and causers; we were admired but also pushed out of the community.

So while the first will be an easier route to take, for it´s not a very proactive one, the only thing it would give me is room to have a pity-party and feel sorry for myself. But going by the other option would mean that worse thing could happen and that I have absolutely no control of my environment. The first option whilst the coward one, will improve my survival chances in the long run.

As I contemplate which one I rather prefer I turn the crow to prevent it from burning. In the process getting a look at my hand and it hits me how young it is. I was too busy yesterday with everything else that I didn't get a good look at myself. As I do so know I want to cry again. Instead of a mature woman I'm a sickly child of twelve again. Short for my age with two skinny legs, pale arms and a touch-starved body. Most of the kids in the Seam will always have a look of starvation do to our inability to build proper muscle structure, so I can't be certain of my age, but I think I'm about thirteen or fifteen years old. That would mean it's either my reaping year or it might be two whole years to go.

I am too young and too weak to inspire an uprising. I´m also not a symbol at this time. I have no power that I can use. Any action I take will most likely get me killed, either by the peacekeepers or my own people. However my child-status gives me a possibility to move freely in my environment. A fact which I really like for it gives me control. I have always craved control, it's the only thing there is a shortage of in this world while pain and madness exist in abundance.

I have finished the crow and am now just sitting in front of the fire, absorbing the projected heat. I'm slowly realising that my best option is to be a coward, to move in the shadows. That will increase my chances of surviving longer, I can always change my mind later. For unlike before I had more weapon in my arsenal. The capitol had withheld information about the different districts from the districts. It wasn't until after the war that we started interacting more; giving each other new knowledge about food, shelter and life.

I fondly think of my many visits to the districts, the people I meet and places I've seen. Rue's mother being one of my best, she had demanded that I came and spend time with the family. Rues siblings was so alike her that it had been excruciating painful to be around them in the beginning, but like Rue they got under my skin. They showed me district eleven and introduced me to their local food and customs. The kindness I experienced in eleven is singular to them; everyone shares what they have and looks out for each other. In twelve that's a rarity, here you priority your own life above others. That or you starve.

After eleven Annie had hunted me down, wanting me to get to know Finnick's son, refusal was impossible. The water district had been beautiful and cirque, showing me were Finnick's' personality came from. Annie had been my guide as I got to know the local traditions and cuisines.

I can't help to cry softly at the memories for it had been the start in cementing my love for Peeta. He had seen the healing effect the visits had on me and so traveled with me from district to district. Showing me Panem; the uniqueness of every districts and its people. It had wanted me to change my home, make twelve better than it had been. Making it ours.

HOME…. Prim…

Prim is alive…

Suddenly I realize exactly what's been given; I could kiss Gale and Beetee. My sister is ALIVE. I´m suddenly full of activity, rushing around, getting dressed and stamp out the fire. I don't care that I'm wet, I need to get home; I need to get to my sister.

Prim…

I´m so fast out the door that I almost forget the bow, forcing me to turn around. The moment I'm certain i got everything I'm running. I don´t stop, I ignore everything around me; the morning sun, the dew and the animals. I ran along the hidden path, by the water stream and to the meadow. When I reach the edge of the meadow I stop. looking for peacekeepers. I rest my hands on my knees and try to catch my breath as I scout the area. everything is calm and I start forward, ready to go home to Prim. i'm stopped when i realise that i still have the bow and curse. If someone saw me with them I would be arrested for instigation.

moving back into the forest and letting the trees hide me again I find the log and remove the hunting-bow and the arrows, ready to sweep them in the fabric once again. But as I put the fabric around the bow I stop and start swearing, I've been gone for an entire day and the peacekeeper must have noticed my absence, going home without a good excuse would mean death.

I realise that I need to hunt down a rarity to bribe the peacekeepers with. Swearing I turn around and stump back into the forest. Mad at myself for my carelessness, it's keeping me from Prim and almost endangering her. I only been back one day.

*Good work Katniss.*