Now, it's early morning, and he's still awake. Today, he needs to get the kids ready for their interviews. He gets some coffee and some of the whiskey Cinna sent him last year for his birthday. It was cured to go well with coffee, especially with a little coffee liqueur.

He sits at the table and Peeta comes out of his bedroom. He looks around, hands in his trouser pockets, and asks, "Where are Effie and Katniss?"

"Not up yet."

Peeta nods. "Good," he says, sitting at the table. He pours himself some hot chocolate and says, "I want to train separately from now on. Do you think that will work?"

Haymitch watches him for a minute. Katniss seems to be an early riser, he doesn't have a lot of time for this conversation, unless the little girl was up all night.

"Is this because of the training scores?" he asks.

Peeta scoffs, shakes his head. "Of course not. Although, if she asks the reason, that's not a bad one."

"Well, what is the reason?"

Peeta hesitates.

"It's my whole job to help you strategize, sweetheart."

Haymitch watches Peeta's shoulders slump, and thinks he can guess what's coming.

"I love Katniss."

Well, no, Haymitch would never have guessed that. "Okay," he says. "Keep going."

"I've been thinking ever since the reaping – before that, even. I watched my brothers go to their reapings, went to four of them with them, and I've been thinking for a long time about what I would do...how I would want to feel if I was in an arena.

"I know I'm strong. I might not be much against the Careers, but I could take out some of the others, I'm sure. I've been well fed, so I'm not as weak from starving as some of them. I've tried to pay attention in the training room, and, as much as I can learn in two days, I think I've got the basics of survival for a few days. I'm not saying I'm imagining a walk in the park, I'm just trying to explain that I've thought about this. I think I'm messing it up. I've never explained it out loud to anyone before."

Haymitch badly wants to take a drink, but he wants Peeta to keep talking and doesn't want to set him off by looking like he's not listening.

"You're doing just fine. Talk it out."

Peeta sighs. "I guess… I mean, when the time comes, I'll kill to live. But that's the only condition I could feel good about killing, does that make sense?" Peeta raises his eyes to Haymitch, who nods and motions for him to continue. "I won't kill… I couldn't feel good about myself if I killed someone for sport, or for the sake of winning, or entertaining the

Haymitch holds up a hand. "Careful."

Peeta nods to show his understanding. "I just mean, I'm not bloodthirsty. I'm not interested in winning if it means killing defenseless children. And someone who thinks like that, who feels like I do about killing and the Games, isn't likely to be a victor, are they?"

Haymitch doesn't say anything. He's seen nearly 50 kids come through this Training Center with him, and he's seen all of them die. Most were terrified, panicked, and scared, right up to the bloodbath. Some were resigned. They ate like every meal was their last, and Haymitch had watched them look relieved at the moment of their death. But this stoic acceptance, this forethought for the Games, no, he has never seen this.

"Most of the winners are people who see the other tributes as meat. That's true. But not always. You might love Katniss, but you… Don't take this the wrong way, but you're both of you too young to be dying for each other in the arena. And she's not any likelier to survive in there than you are."

Peeta shakes his head. "I know all that. That's what I'm trying to say, I'm just not doing a good job. It's hard to articulate." He drinks his hot chocolate, and starts piling food on his plate.

"I'll survive as long as I can, but I'm not just talking about survival. Everyone dies, in the arena, or out. That's part of life. We learn about death young in the districts, even in the merchant square. You don't get to choose the moment or manner of your death, but you can choose how you feel about death. I can't tell the future, but I've been given a pretty big clue about how and when I'm going to die. And I want to feel… Good's not the word. I want to feel clean. Like myself. If I can make my death have meaning, then I want to.

"I've loved Katniss, or felt like I love her, for a long time. And if it came down to it and it was dying to be one more kill shot in a victor's interview or dying to save someone I love, I would feel a lot better if it was for someone I love. Maybe if we'd never been reaped I could have asked her out. Maybe I would have found someone else and gotten married and lived happily ever after. But we were reaped, and this is how I can die at peace with myself. So, will you help me?"

Haymitch sighs. Jesus. This kid is the real deal. Someone decent, maybe even a little bit genius, and he's just looking for his premature death, engineered as the ultimate entertainment for people in the Capitol to bet on and forget the moment it's over, to have some meaning.

"Let me think about what the best thing to do here is. Do you trust me to do that?"

Peeta's mouth is full of roasted potato. He nods.

"Good."

Effie wanders in and pours herself some coffee. She sits next to Haymitch and says, "Good morning, Peeta. Are you thinking about your interview?"

"Haymitch and I were just talking about that. And good morning to you, too."

She smiles. She loves a tribute with good manners.

"I've decided to train separately from now on."

"Oh," says Effie, looking quickly at Haymitch. He shrugs. Effie's not likely to understand Peeta's reasoning, and Haymitch hasn't been given permission to talk about it anyway. Effie looks back to Peeta and asks, "Is it because of Katniss's score?"

Peeta laughs. "Not really. Maybe."

Katniss walks in just then, putting an end to the conversation. Haymitch is getting the beginning of an idea on what to do about Peeta's last wish.

He coaches Peeta for the interviews first.

"You'll want to win over as many people as possible. How do you want to do that?"

Peeta thinks. "What's worked in the past?"

"Well," he says, "Finnick Odair used charm and flirting to pretty good effect. He never wanted for sponsors in the Games. You're strong. You could paint yourself as a murdering machine, but you'd lose sponsors, of course, when they see you aren't one."

Peeta takes this in. "I don't think I can flirt, but my dad says I'm funny."

"Let's see about that." Haymitch pours himself a glass of wine, and sits down, starts asking questions he remembers Caesar Flickerman asking before.

Peeta is funny. He never makes fun of anyone, always turns the joke on himself, but not in a self-pitying way. It makes him extremely likable. God, if he could save one of them, he'd save this one. Katniss doesn't deserve to die in the arena anymore than Peeta does. And Haymitch reminds himself it's still 50-1 odds for both of them.

He can't take it anymore. "All right, you'll be great up there. If the crowd makes you nervous, just remember they want to like you. They're looking for a winner.

"Now, you'll be last. People always remember the first and last interviews best, so you just need to drop one bombshell to be remembered by sponsors. I think you should find a way to tell Caesar you're in love with Katniss."

Peeta raises his eyebrows. He looks surprised.

Haymitch continues. "Not all the other stuff. Dying nobly isn't something these jackals have ever considered, or been asked to consider. But we've already presented you as a pair, it will bring a lot of attention and interest to Katniss, and a doomed love interest is something the Capitol can understand."

"Okay." Peeta sits back, laces his fingers over his knee, crossed over his other leg. "How do I bring it up if he doesn't?"

"I'll tell him to ask you about a special girl back home."

"And he'll help you like that?"

"Caesar's job is to help all the tributes shine. Remember, the more likable contenders there are, the more interest in the Games. This is a huge moneymaker for the Capitol. It cannot fail or be boring."

Peeta shakes his head, but Haymitch can tell from his expression that Peeta understands what he's saying.

"Okay. Should I tell Katniss first?"

"No. Whatever her reaction is, it needs to be genuine."

Peeta sighs, then lifts his eyes to look at Haymitch. "Okay. Thank you, Haymitch. I feel better."

"You're killing me, Peeta. Is there any way I can convince you to try and live?"

Peeta smiles. "I'm going to try, you know."

They stand up. "Effie might coach you a little. Apparently, people from 12 are very bad at sitting and standing." Peeta laughs. "Why don't you rest till she calls you?"

"Sure."

Peeta leaves and Haymitch pours another drink.

Eventually, Katniss walks in. He's already frustrated with her, even though it's not her fault. He has to remind himself that Peeta has asked him to help Katniss, because it becomes clear, very quickly, that she will not help herself. She refuses to understand that part of the game is getting people you hate, to like you, even just one part of you. But she gives nothing of herself. He drinks. Drinks to forget that a rather extraordinary young man has thought out a way to die with dignity so this girl can throw it all away.