Changing the Game Chapter 10: The beauty of the rising sun, a hunger games fanfic

A/N: As always, I want to give a huge thank you to everyone who follows/favorites and reviews! Your kind words mean the word to me. I would also like to extend my gratitude to those of you who kept my father in law in their prayers. We are approaching the end of week two of chemo, and Papa Pete became overcome with emotion at the loss of some of his hair. My wonderful kids suggested he go ahead and buzz his hair, insisting that they all sport the same 'do'.

Here is Chapter 10 for you…I enjoyed getting it out of my head, so I do hope you enjoy! Please review and let me know your thoughts!

Changing the Game

Chapter 10 : The beauty of the rising sun

~ Plutarch Heavensbee ~

"I appreciate you taking the time to meet on such short notice, I promise not to keep you long. I gathered us here to discuss implementing phase two; and I believe now is the time."

"Phase two?" Haymitch raises an eyebrow looking completely lost.

"Seneca, have you told him nothing?" I look at my fellow gamemaker in disbelief.

"It's not like I'm standing around twiddling my thumbs, between the two of us, we are either in front of a camera, or surrounded in surveillance.

"Right, yes, I suppose that would make it difficult. Anyhow Haymitch, phase two consists of broadcasting an announcement throughout the arena, informing the tributes of a rule change. There is no need for me to elaborate, for Haymitch is aware of the nature of the rule deviation.

"Okay, so announce it already." Haymitch retorts.

"It's not that easy Haymitch. You see, the request can't come from us. Snow would smell defiance from a mile away if it came from any of his precious gamemakers, then he'd have our heads on the chopping block by the days end." Seneca explains our dilemma to our previously drunken District Twelve mentor.

"I'm sorry, I'm not following you. We need to make the announcement to implement phase two, but the announcement can't come from you? Then how the hell are you supposed to do it?"

"The seed was planted on the night of the interviews shortly after your boy declared his love for his district partner. When he announced his intentions to sacrifice his life for his one true love, the people didn't know what to think. Such love is unheard of, especially in The Capitol.

When a petition began making its way through The Capitol, everyone was eager to sign the form, having been so touched by Peeta's proclamation. The treaty states that if the petition were to receive a minimum of five-hundred signatures, the petition has the power to warrant a one-time rule change."

"Five-hundred? Geez, that seems a bit outrageous, where are we at now?" Five hundred does seem a bit excessive, which causes me to wonder when the authors drew it up, they never intended on so much support from its citizens.

I pull out my tablet to check the status of the request and break out into an ear-splitting grin. "It's at four-hundred and ninety-three. We will be making the announcement by the days end. Think your kids will make it till then?" I ask jokingly, but Haymitch does not think it is so funny.

"Just hurry up and get your damn signatures Plutarch. If we're done here, I need to get to the green room."

"Yes, I think that's it for now. If all goes according to plan, we will send word to each district that tonight's viewing is mandatory."

"Okay, yeah, whatever." Haymitch exits the room, the door slamming in its wake.

"The word around the grapevine is that you had a meeting with our dear president." Seneca quips.

"You heard correctly. For some reason, Snow's got himself all worked up over Katniss Everdeen, he's nearly coming unraveled at the sight of her. I must say, in all the years I've known him, I've never seen him quite so distraught over a tribute."

"I think we both know that Katniss Everdeen is no ordinary tribute. And what do you mean by 'worked up'?"

"Just before I entered his office, I thought I heard him talking to someone; that is until I realized the old man was blubbering to his self."

"Why won't you just go away, just die already and stay out of my head! Damn you Lucy Gray and your filthy mockingjay's."

I tap on the door, allowing my presence to be known, in the hopes of interrupting the battle going on in his head. Snow puts himself back together rather quickly and plasters a smile onto his face. "Ahh, Mr. Heavensbee! What a pleasure; please, please have a seat." I take a seat in the chair in front of his desk.

"Mr. Heavensbee, I do hope you'll forgive me for pulling you away from your duties, as I know how taxing the life of a Gamemaker can be. As the president of Panem, my people rely on me for many things, entertainment being one of the many. I have discussed this with Mr. Crane, as I will discuss it with you. You see, the people in The Capitol have a certain level of expectations where the games are concerned. It is the highlight of the year; many people dedicate the majority of their time into this time of year.

I do so wish he would just get to the point. "I'm not sure I understand what you are asking of me, President Snow." President Snow sparked a certain camaraderie with me many years ago, although I've never been able to stand the man, I figured it to be wise to placate him. At the time, sparking a revolution was the farthest thing from my mind.

"The District Two boy is to be this year's victor, is that understood?" His playful banter is replaced by a sinister glare.

"Forgive me sir, I thought we had already agreed upon this?"

"I just need some…reassurances."

"Of course, sir, of course. But…May I offer up a suggestion?"

"You may."

"Word on the streets is that a petition is floating around to implement a rule change allowing two winners as long as they reside from the same district—"

"Absolutely not! I will not all—"

"Hear me out President Snow, please." President Snow nods, motioning with his hand for me to proceed.

"Ever since Twelve's interview with Caesar, the citizens have been fawning over the pair. Think about this…an announcement is broadcasted throughout the arena calling for a 'suspension' in the current rule just when all hope seems lost. But not until we get down to the top six. Thinking they can win as a pair, our lovebirds seek each other out, believing they can win and go home together.

They fight valiantly, eliminating all of the other tributes. Now, my prospective idea will not allow for a District Two victor, but just imagine this; the last two standing are the love-sick fools of District Twelve. They think they've won, until another announcement is made, reinstating the original rules; undoing the suspension, and one of them must kill the other to survive." I pause my antics for just a moment, allowing Snow to absorb the idea.

"Can you imagine the grand finale? People will be talking about these games until the end of time!" If this doesn't convince him, I'm not sure anything will.

"Plutarch Heavensbee, I knew there was a reason I vetted you. Everyone knows you're the brains of this operation, Seneca is just the pretty face that everyone sees. I love it, make it happen. Arrange word to the districts implementing mandatory viewing tonight."

"Thank you, sir."

"He has no clue?" Seneca asks after hearing the recollection of my time with our malicious president.

"No, and if we play this right, he never will."

"What about the kids?"

"They won't kill each other Seneca, have you seen the way they look at each other?"

"You're that confident?"

"I am."

. . . . . . . . . .

0o0o

. . . . . . . . . .

~ Cinna ~

My inclination to aspire to be a stylist was engrained in my blood. For my mother was one of the most elite up and coming stylists in The Capitol of her time. I still remember how I felt the moment she handed me my first sketch book when I was a little lad. She was my biggest cheerleader, my greatest supporter; constantly boosting my ego with praise of my natural talents.

I never understood why she insisted on styling for the outer districts; as a small child, even I was aware of 'the career districts' versus 'the outer districts.' Surely, she could have made an even bigger name for herself had she styled for District Four, or even District Two. But no, she was adamant that the outer districts was where her talent was needed most.

"Cinna darling, contrary to what we are taught to believe, we are not put on this earth to profit from children fighting each other." At nine years old, I was beginning to question many things; why I couldn't be a contender in the games was always at the forefront of my mind. The Capitol made such a fuss over the games, I was constantly hearing what an honor and privilege becoming a victor was; I wanted a piece of that glory for myself.

"Then why are we here, mama?"

"I believe we are here to try our best to make a difference. To love and be loved and to help those who are in need. Do you know why we are lucky Cinna?" I shake my head, clueless as to what my mother is talking about.

"We are lucky because we 'just happened' to have been born in The Capitol. We have advantages that those in the districts do not have. Do you think we should be punished if our only fault was that we were born in the districts?"

I ponder her question, realizing the absurdity of her statement. "No mama, that isn't fair."

"Just because we are privileged Capitol Citizens does not mean we must conform to the standards our government bestows upon us. Everyone else is being selfish and greedy, so that means you and I must work extra hard to be helpful and kind. If you never remember anything I've ever told you, I want you to remember this; You must always do the right thing, Cinna. Can you promise me that?"

"But mama, how will I know if it's the right thing?" Mother smiles at me with her dazzling perfectly straight teeth.

"When I was a little girl, my daddy told me to always let my conscious be my guide."

"What is a conk-chuss?" Mother giggles at my misuse of the word.

"Your conscious is a feeling your get deep inside of here." She places her hand on my chest, just above the place where my heart lies. "Do you remember when you accidently broke my favorite tea mug, and when I asked you about it you feigned innocence, claiming that you didn't know how it happened?"

"Yes, I remember." I nod, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

"And do you remember how you came to me in tears that night, upset that you had lied to me? Well, that feeling you got in your belly; that was your conscious telling you it was wrong to lie. If you ever doubt your actions or your choices, all you must to do is listen to that feeling deep inside of there. It will never lead you astray."

My mother must have known the cancer would take her from me soon. In the months after that conversation, she spent every spare moment instilling her wisdom into me. Her cancer took her from my father and I the following year.

Ten years later my father asked for my help in packing the belongings up in her office, for even after a decade, it was still too painful for him to be in the presence of her things. As I was rummaging through her books, pondering as to what to keep for myself and what to donate to charity, I came across a journal. Wanting to learn more about the mother that I always worshipped, I decided to read it.

I'm not sure what I expected to find, maybe some inspiration as to what to do with my adult life, but the entries that I read was anything but what I expected. My mother wrote about her involvement with a group of people who were trying to dethrone President Snow. She spoke of the atrocities of The Hunger Games, and her reasoning for styling for the outer districts. She spoke of a world where freedom and justice prevailed. It was in that moment that I realized where my future lay.

As I sit here next to Portia sketching to pass the time while also keeping an eye on Katniss and Peeta, I'd like to think that my mother would be proud of the man I've become. That she would approve in the path I have chosen for myself. I truly believe in the deepest recesses of my mind that she would be proud of my part in what's about to happen.

"Does anyone know where Haymitch ran off to?" Effie storms into the control room, where Portia and I seem to have taken up permanent residence.

"He mentioned something about a meeting and then hitting up The Green Room." Portia informs our escort.

The Green Room is where potential sponsors go to mingle amongst each other, bragging and betting on the tributes. It is also the first place mentors go to seek out potential sponsors. They are so superficial with their fancy clothes and ridiculously expensive jewelry.

Portia looks to me with concern in her eyes. "I'm worried about this plan of Peeta's." Portia made a true connection with Peeta, even with the small amount of time she spent with him, she loves him as I love Katniss.

. . . . . . . . . .

0o0o

. . . . . . . . . .

~ Prim ~

Mom and I are anxiously waiting for dad to get home so that we can walk to The Justice building together. The Capitol reporters, or 'The Aliens', as Madge refers to them; hunted us down yesterday in an attempt to schedule our first round of interviews.

"You guys ready?" Dad asks us, just as he becomes aware of the grim expression on my face.

"What's wrong Primmie, are you feeling okay?" He rushes over to me and places the back of his hand to my forehead.

I'm unable to prevent the flood of tears that escape my eyes and shake my head. "It's Katniss, she's really sick dad, like really, really sick." Dad rushes over to our ancient television and turns it on.

My strong, smart, brave and fearless sister is curled up in her sleeping bag on the floor of the cave shivering in a fever induced slumber. The foreboding look on Peeta's face does nothing to set my mind at ease. Mom said when Katniss fought that boy from Two a few days ago, he stabbed her with his sword. Between not being able to treat the wound and lacking the access to clean it properly is the perfect recipe for infection to fester. The infection gets worse by the minute, which is making my sister sicker and sicker.

"Primrose, you know how stubborn your sister is, do you think for a second that she's going to let some little cut hold her back? I have no doubt that she'll be back on her feet in no time. Just you wait and see!" Dad's optimistic demeanor seems to work its magic, and I feel somewhat better. For now.

"Come on girls, we've got an interview to give."

When we reach the square, I see Peeta's family standing awkwardly by the aliens in a semi-circle right outside The Justice building. When we approach them, the first reporter turns around to see who is behind them.

"And just who might this lovely young lady be?" Her bubbly, overly cheerful personality annoys me, as she seems to ask no one in particular. This is my first time meeting the reporters, and now that I'm up close and personal, I understand Madge's nickname for them.

The woman speaking to me has these antennae like protrusions coming out of the top of her head, and there is either something is wrong with her, or she has dyed her skin a vivid shade of orange. And it isn't a muted orange like Peeta's favorite color, but like...bright orange. Like the orange of an orange; the fruit.

The other reporter is a man, and while he lacks the obvious antennas, his skin takes on the hue of a green olive. The irises of his eyes are a deep bluish purple, I think Peeta would call the color indigo. I will never understand why people from The Capitol insist on going to go to such extremes to modify their bodies.

"This is the beautiful Primrose Everdeen, Katniss' younger sister. Mr. Mellark introduces me to the reporters, giving me a quick hug.

"Well, it is lovely to meet you Primrose! My name is Tangerine, but everyone calls me Tangie!" I wonder if she dyed her skin to match her name, or if she changed her name to match her skin.

"Everyone calls me Prim. Well, everyone except my parents." I shrug my shoulders, sending an impish grin to my dad.

"I spent thirty-nine hours in labor with you, I think that gives me the right to call you whatever I want." Mom jokes with me.

Mrs. Mellark stands erect next to her oldest son, Graham, and his wife, looking rather irritated to be here. Then again, I'm not sure if I've ever seen her look happy to be anywhere.

"I don't want anyone to feel nervous about their interviews. Today is just a casual and simple Q and A. No one will be recording you on camera. We will sit down together, and I will ask you questions. You may answer as a unit or choose to provide me with your individual responses.

We will plan on conducting a live interview tomorrow, depending on which tributes remain." She speaks of the possibility of us losing one of our 'tributes' so casual and carefree. As if they're getting kicked out of the arena instead of dying

"Everdeen Family, if I can get you guys to either take a seat over there or just mingle amongst each other while I conduct the interviews for The Mellark family, and then you guys shall switch." I follow my parents to the steps of The Justice building where we take a seat far enough to be out of the way, but close enough to listen in on them.

Peeta may not be biologically related to me, but he is my family in all the ways that matter. I don't pay attention to the hushed whispers behind me coming from mom and dad as I listen intently to Tangie's question about Peeta.

By observing Rye's body language and facial expressions, it is clear to me how much he adores his younger brother. His body is relaxed and his face lights up at the mention of Peeta's bravery.

On the other hand, Mrs. Mellark is closed off with her arms crossed over her chest almost the entire time. I wonder if her screwed up face that resembles someone sucking on a lemon is her natural face, or if she does it on purpose. She is not happy to be here, nor does she seem thrilled about hearing anything positive related to her youngest son. Mom told me once that if she didn't think that Peeta would eventually become family, she might just adopt him.

Each time a question is directed at Mrs. Mellark, she doesn't make any attempt to put forth the slightest bit of effort. Throughout the entire interview, she does not utter one single positive thing about Peeta, which is really starting to grate on my nerves.

"So Mellark's, were you aware of Peeta's feelings for his district partner? Did he inform you of his plan to sacrifice his life to ensure the victory of Katniss Everdeen?" Mrs. Mellark's mouth opens, probably to blurt out some obscenities, but Mr. Mellark steps in front of her.

"My son has been in love with Katniss nearly his entire life. And no, he didn't tell us of any plan, but he didn't need to." Mr. Mellark begins.

"What do you mean?"

"When you love someone as my boy loves Katniss, you will do whatever it takes to protect them, to keep them safe."

"I'm confused Mr. Mellark, wouldn't you rather your own son win the games?" In a split second, Mr. Mellark's eyes narrow, seeming to shoot daggers at Tangie. Just as quickly, he regains his composure.

"Of course, I want my son to come home, but Peeta wouldn't want to live without Katniss. If they can't come home together, then Katniss needs to come home to her family."

When the questions become directed to Mrs. Mellark, I force myself to tune her out, knowing that if I don't, I may just walk over there and punch her in the face. Sometimes, I wonder how Peeta turned out to be…well…Peeta. Other than my sister, Peeta is the best person I know. He genuinely cares about others and can always find something nice to say to anyone. Peeta is one of those people who are just inherently good.

Finally, I watch as they all begin scattering around, signaling the end of their interviews. Which means it is now our turn. Oh joy.

Tangie motions for us to come to where she and Olive are, sitting on the steps of The Justice building. Once we get over there, mom and dad sit next to each other on the fifth step from the bottom. I take a seat on the fourth one, right next to my parents.

"I'm just going to ask you some questions about Katniss, and all you have to do is answer to the best of your ability. Think of this as practice for tomorrows live interview. Any questions?"

"What about Peeta?" Tangie looks at me as if I have just grown two heads.

"What about him?"

"You aren't going to interview us about Peeta? Only Katniss?"

"Why would I interview you regarding Peeta? Katniss is your sister."

"Peeta may have been born to The Mellark's but he is an honorary Everdeen." Dad comes to my defense, but Tangie still doesn't seem to understand.

"I think what Primrose is trying to tell you is that since Katniss and Peeta have been friends for such a long time, Peeta is…family." Mom offers another way to phrase it, and finally, she gets it.

"Oh my. I'm not sure if this has ever happened before. Well, um…You know what they say, there is a first time for everything, and well…I suppose it wouldn't hurt to conduct your interview regarding both tributes." Every time she refers to them as 'tributes', it's like nails on a chalkboard as I inwardly cringe.

"Are you ready to begin?" She asks us.

"We're ready when you are." Mom confirms.

"Alright…So Prim, Mr. and Mrs. Everdeen, what can you tell us about Katniss? What is she like? Do you think she has what it takes to win? Did she clue you in on her strategy, and ooh...how do you think she got that eleven?"

I decide to ignore her silly questions and speak from my heart. It's what Peeta would advise me to do. "Well, I don't know if you're aware of this, but it was actually my name that was chosen from the reaping ball this year. But as you can see, I am still here in District Twelve. Katniss took my place to protect me because she always wants to protect me. Because I am her baby sister, and it has always been her job to keep me safe. That in itself should give you some kind of clue as to the kind of person my sister is.

If you were to walk up to any random person in Twelve that didn't really know Katniss and asked their opinion of her, they would probably tell you that she has an attitude problem, she's not the friendliest of girls, and she has a permanent scowl painted onto her face. While all of those things are probably true, it isn't the entire truth.

You see, my sister is the bravest person I know, and she would go to the ends of the earth to protect the people she loves. While she may not like very many people, those of us that she allows into her heart, she loves us with her whole self, not just her heart. Katniss loves passionately and with a ferocity like no other. My sister is my hero and I couldn't be prouder of her."

"I couldn't have said it better Prim, that was beautiful." Tangie casts dad an irritated glare for the interruption.

"Okay, well if you guys don't have anything to add, I'll move on to the next question. Well, same question, different tribute."

Mom and dad sit back and allow me take the reins. "I couldn't love Peeta Mellark more if we were biologically related. He is my family in all the ways that matter. Peeta is the best person I know; well, other than Katniss, of course. He is kind, and he truly cares about other people.

Every day after school, Katniss, Madge and I; Madge is Katniss and Peeta's best friend, well, we all meet him by the flagpole, and he walks all of us home every single day before his shift at the bakery because he wants to make sure we get there safely. It doesn't matter if it's raining, snowing, or one-hundred degrees outside, Peeta, like my sister is deeply passionate about protecting the ones he loves." I pause before adding more.

"OH! And Peeta is SO talented!"

"Talented?" Tangie asks.

I nod my head with a huge grin plastered across my face. I can't believe I almost forgot to mention this. "Yes, Peeta is an artist. He can draw, paint and sketch anything!

Tangie spends the rest of our interview asking me questions, to which I ignore and speak from my heart, giving the performance of a lifetime.

. . . . . . . . . .

0o0o

. . . . . . . . . .

~ Peeta ~

"PEETA! PEETA! HELP ME PEETA!" My head jerks up in attention when I hear the shrill screams of my friend calling out for my help. The rational side of me is dissuading me to call out to her. This could be a trap to lure me in for the kill. The emotional side of me overcome my rationality, and I take off in a hurry.

"RUE! RUE! WHERE ARE YOU?" I yell out to my friend, not caring in the least if the careers hear me; I dare them to find me. With only one functioning ear, I try to follow the sound of her voice. I feel as if I am running in circles as I contemplate from which direction her screams are coming from.

Katniss' voice emits weakness, and it takes every bit of self-control that I have not to go to her. She pleads with me not to go, but I don't have it in me to abandon Rue. Something tells me that if I don't find her soon, Rue's sweet little face with be amongst the images in the sky tonight.

'Peeta, please don't go, what if it's a trap? What if they kill you? I can't lose you Peeta, I—' Denying Katniss anything is a skill I have never homed in on, but the games have bonded me and Rue. And besides, I owe her.

After Rue cut the tracker jacker's nest down, she could have left us for dead. Hell, she could have killed all of us right then and there, and already been crowned the victor by now. Instead, she dragged me and Katniss into the safety of that cave, and then risked going back for our supplies.

While we were unconscious, she nursed us back to health; she attended to our wounds, changed our bandages, and drizzled water into our mouths to fend off dehydration. So, no, I won't leave Rue out here to fend for herself. 'Or to die alone' I berate myself for having the thought.

'Kat, I can't...I have to find her. If it weren't for her, we would both already be dead. I owe it to her to at least try, I couldn't live with myself if I didn't. I'll come back to you; I promise.' As painful as it is for her to allow me to do this, she understands more than anyone that I can't leave my debt to Rue unpaid. I won't die, I can't. If I don't make it back to Katniss, the infection in her shoulder will get worse and she'll…she'll…I can't…it hurts too much to even think of the possibility.

'Okay Peeta, just...just...stay with me.' Before I have the chance to respond, Rue cries out once more.

"PEETA!" I turn my head in the direction I think Rue's voice comes from, and that's when I see her.

'I found her.' I inform Katniss while I rush to the tree where I see Rue. Like an animal caught in a trap, Rue is encased in a net, strung up high in a tree. I retrieve my knife from the confines of my shoe and begin sawing at the rope, slowly lowering Rue to the ground. I keep my knife gripped in my hands, staying on alert. If one of the careers set a trap, it's likely that they are close by to collect their 'game'. The next few moments seem surreal, as they seem to happen in slow motion. First, relief fills Rue's eyes at having been rescued. I free her from the net and then she screams out her warning.

"PEETA, WATCH OUT!" She pushes me to the side just as I turn to see the danger she warns me of. It's Marvel. District One exposes himself from his hiding place behind another tree with a spear clutched firmly in his hands; aimed straight for me. Almost in sync with the other, he throws his spear in my direction at the same time that I chuck my knife at him, aimed toward his face. My knife lodges itself directly in the center of his throat.

Guilt floods me as I am overcome with relief as I watch him tumble to the ground. Having never thrown a knife before, not even in training, I am stunned at the precision of my impeccable aim. He is dead before his body reaches the ground; the sound of the cannon is my proof.

I turn to face Rue, thinking that we're safe for the moment. Now, we can go back to Katniss, Thresh will have to wait. I keep getting this feeling deep in my core that Katniss is barely hanging on by a thread. Before I have time to process my thoughts; Rue grips the spear with both of her hands, needing physical proof that it has impaled itself into her abdomen.

"RUE!" I cry her name out and manage to catch her before she falls to the ground. I lower myself to the ground, bringing Rue with me and rest her head in my lap. Once again, Rue saved my life. She saw Marvel's intentions and pushed me out of the way. I owe her so much that I will never be able to pay for.

There isn't a trace of sadness when her chocolate eyes meet my cerulean ones. Tears begin to escape from my eyes without my permission. Having heard the boom of a cannon, Katniss manages to muster up the strength to scream obscenities in my head. She fears the worst and demands to know what happened, begs for the assurance of my voice to confirm my safety. But I don't hear her, not really.

"It's okay…You're going to be okay, it's okay, it's okay." We both know that I am lying. She is not okay, and she will not last long enough to see another sunrise. "What did you do that for? That spear was meant for me…you...you saved me again." I want so badly to be angry with her but, how can I? Had she not pushed me out of the way, it would be my life hanging in the balance and not her. Dying is not an option for me, because if I were to die, I know that Katniss wouldn't be far behind me.

I leave the spear impaled in Rue's stomach; she can take it with her when the hovercraft comes to retrieve her body. It will be one less weapon for the careers to get their hands on to use against me and Katniss. I gently stroke her hair as I continue to lie to her, telling her that she's going to be okay.

She reaches up to wipe away my tears. "Did you blow the food up?" I nod, confirming the success of our plan.

"Good. Now you have to win...you and Katn—" It's gets more difficult for her to complete her sentences with each second that passes by.

"I'm so sorry Rue, you risked your life to save me and Katniss, and I couldn't...I didn't— Oh Rue! I'm so sorry!"

"Stop...Peeta...No... It was always...meant to...be you and...Katniss." I know she is right, but that doesn't mean I'm okay with her dying.

"Peeta...I'm...Sc...Scared." Rue's voice trembles in its wake as the tears continue to fall from my eyes. I pull her into my lap and continue to stroke her hair as I think about what I say to ease her fears, what I could possibly do to fill her last moments with anything other than the pain she is currently enduring.

I think back to our first night together when it was the four of us, I recall the way Rue lit up at the mention of her and her sisters singing together, and how music was such a vital part of her life, I think that a song would ease her fears. I don't doubt that if Katniss were here instead of me, she would sing to her. But Katniss isn't here, and I can't carry a tune. I'm an artist, but I can't paint her a picture out here. Or...Maybe I can.

"Close your eyes Rue, I want to tell you a story." She follows my command and slowly flutters her eyes closed. I take a deep breath, as I regale the memory of Katniss' and my game of 'make believe.' I plead with myself for the courage to bring Rue some peace.

"Just focus on the sound of my voice okay?" With her closed eyes, she nods her head, putting all of her trust in me.

"We are not in the arena; we are high up in the trees of District Eleven. Not only are we not in The Hunger Games, but there is not even such a thing as The Games. We live in a serene world where there is only peace, joy, laughter, and love. There is an abundance of food and children spend their days running through the fields chasing each other.

It's ten years from now, and you are in charge of The Apricot Division." This is the only tree I remember Rue telling me about, and I hope I got it right.

"Every morning you wake with a smile on your face, so excited to get to work and surround yourself in the scent of apricots. Part of your job is to collect perfectly juicy apricots, so you divide the sections up amongst your employees and everyone gets to eat at least one apricot every day to test to its perfection.

As much as you love your job, the excitement of hearing the mockingjay's mimicking your sisters tune, signaling quitting time sends a jolt of electricity through your body. Because waiting at home for you is your perfect, amazing, supportive, and wonderful husband, along with your perfect two children.

Your husband, well he has his own job of course, but he always makes time for you. He greets you at home with your children; a son and a daughter, and you eat dinner as a family. You sit at the dinner table and everyone shares the events of their day. Every night, you tuck your kids into bed and kiss their foreheads. April and Benjamin tell you that you are the best mommy ever, and you go to sleep wondering how you got so lucky to have such a perfect family."

Rue's body went slack several minutes ago, but I didn't have the heart to leave her story incomplete. Maybe the body really does have a soul and she could still hear the story I was making up for her as she was floating away toward peace. At least, that what I tell myself. Maybe in another life, maybe that's how it will be.

I continue to hold Rue in my arms, rocking us back and forth until my body is so overwhelmed by these intense waves of pain. There is a heaviness on my chest, as if one-hundred pounds is weighing me down, and if not released, an explosion of sorts is sure to follow.

I clutch my chest, trying to ease the pain as I release the excruciating sobs. I cry for my friend, for my ally, for the life she was robbed of, for the life she should have had, and for the life she will never have. I don't just cry, my sobs come out in inconsolable wails.

Katniss whispers soothing words of comfort in my head, but the pain is still so unbearable. I feel so helpless, as I wonder why this happened? Why did they kill her? Why couldn't I protect her? If losing Rue hurts this much; someone who I knew for only a few short weeks, I don't want to even imagine….no, I can't even think it out loud.

'Because we're the stars of the 74th Hunger Games, Peeta. You did everything you could, this is not your fault, do you hear me? This. Is. Not. Your. Fault.'

'She deserved so much more than this. So much more than to be forced into this arena, so much more than to be killed in this cruel, violent, and brutal way. When is this going to stop? This has to stop Katniss!' Katniss knows that my anger isn't directed toward her.

'I know Peeta, I know.' She appeases me.

How can the citizens in The Capitol find pleasure in watching children murder each other year after year?

The pain begins to subside, anger taking its place. I wonder if The Capitol is watching right this second. I want them to see what they've done; they need to be held accountable for this loss. I gently lie Rue on the ground and get up. I scan the area until I find what I'm looking for. I walk behind a tree and collect two handfuls of flowers, or maybe they are weeds, I don't know. Either way, they'll work just fine for what I have in mind. I need to hurry back to Rue if I want to make it before the hovercraft arrives to collect her body. I begin placing flowers all around her body, I decorate them in her hair, and then finally, I place a bunch into Rue's clasped hands; making it appear so that she is holding them.

'Peeta, come back to me.' Katniss' feeble voice jolts me back to the present, and I know that I need to hurry. I look around, trying to remember the way to the cave. I curse myself for losing track of my landmarks when Rue called out to me.

Not five minutes later, a parachute floats down to me. I reach out and grab it midair. It's bread. It's not from my district, which sends me into a momentary state of confusion. I begin flipping through my mind, recalling all of the different breads from each of the districts from training. Finally, it comes to me; this loaf of bread came straight from District Eleven. My nose scrunches up in confusion. Was this a mistake? Perhaps Haymitch was drunk and simply pressed a wrong button. Or was this meant for Rue?

Suddenly, I know my gift was no mistake as I realize that it is meant for me. District Eleven sent it to me to offer their gratitude and appreciation of my alliance...no, my friendship with their tribute. I kiss my first three fingers and throw them into the air, offering up my district's symbol of thanks. "My thanks to District Eleven." I enunciate my words with elegant precision, making sure to speak clearly and concisely enough for all of the cameras to pick up. I don't want there to be any confusion as to the words I speak.

Katniss doesn't sound good; her words are breathless as she can barely form a complete sentence without pausing in-between each word. And I'm lost. This is just great.

. . . . . . . . . .

0o0o

. . . . . . . . . .

~ Haymitch ~

For so many years, I cruised through the days of my life in a drunken bubble. I dulled my mind with alcohol, pushing everyone away in the process. I convinced myself it was better this way; if I didn't care about anyone, then there was no one for Snow to hold over my head. My only 'friend' was the mayor, and we never made our friendship known to the district.

I've spent the last sixteen years watching Madge grow up into a beautiful girl. She reminds me so much of her aunt that sometimes, I wonder if that could have been me and Cici's life had we not been reaped. I shake my head, pushing the thoughts from my head. I would never bring a kid into a world when the games still exists. No, that would just be too cruel.

Just because I don't want kids doesn't mean I don't care about them. Kids are the reason I insinuated myself in this rebellion.

Watching Peeta hold that little girl and his attempt to fill her mind with happy memories just before her death reminds me of how good of a person he is. I mean, he is one of those annoyingly inherently

There is a knock at the door, interrupting my thoughts. Portia jumps up to open the door and offers our guest a smile. She opens the door, inviting Cedar and Chaff; the District Eleven mentors into our the District Twelve control room.

Chaff's lips are set in a firm line, and I can almost feel the seething amounts of rage radiating from his pores. The evidence of Cedar's pain over the death of their tribute is apparent, due to the puffy, red rimmed eyes that she sports.

"I…I'm sorry, I..I don't know what to say." I pull Cedar into my arms, giving her a hug.

"It's not your fault, Haymitch." She assures me that she isn't mad at me.

"We just found out that District Eleven has been taking up a collection in hopes of sending a gift in to Rue. We just received it, maybe an hour ago." Chaff tells us. Cinna's brows knit in confusion, not fully understanding Chaff's message.

"They wanted to send Rue a loaf of bread from our district, but…but now that she's gone, I…we wanted to know if…Haymitch, would you be opposed if we sent it to Peeta instead?"

"Huh?" I can't be that drunk, but did she just ask me what I think she did?

"Rue is no longer…available to receive her sponsor gift, but Chaff and I are both in agreement that Rue's family would insist it be redirected to Peeta. They were allies, after all." Cedar explains to me. Her choice of words does not go unnoticed.

This just keeps getting better and better. Everything seems to be naturally falling into place, no one will even think to question what happens next.

"Are you sure you don't want to send it to Thresh? Where is he anyway? I haven't seen him since Rue cut down that tracker jackers nest." Cedar gives me a pained look as she nods her head.

"We're sure. We want Peeta to have it."

"Okay." Chaff and I walk to the monitor that provides us with the means to send sponsor gifts to our tributes. First, we have to transfer it from his account and into mine. Once the transfer is confirmed, I select which tribute will receive the gift and then click on the item to be sent in. I verify my selection and hit the 'SEND' icon.

The six of us stare at the screen and watch as Peeta receives the gift, his face contorts in confusion at first. Having been raised in the bakery, he is keenly aware that his gift did not originate from our district, but from likes of District Eleven. His face lights up in allowance, realizing that District Eleven sent him this gift to show their appreciation. He kisses his first three fingers, and then salutes them into the air just before he verbalizes his gratitude to District Eleven.

His words of gratitude are clear and concise. His message is loud and clear.

"Thank you, Cedar. Chaff."

"Well, we should be going. End of the line interviews and all." Cedar and Chaff make their way to the door, but then Cedar turns back to face me. "Thank you Haymitch." I raise an eyebrow in confusion as to what warrants her thanks. She turns on her heels and disappears from the control room, leaving me to ponder her words.

"What just happened?" Effie barks at me. Never in the history of the games has another district sent in a sponsor gift directed to a tribute from an opposing district. My pocket begins vibrating, rescuing me from supplying her with a response. I pull out my notebook to read the incoming message.

It's time. - - S.O.C.

It's Seneca Crane. He confirms all of his messages with his initials. Seneca Osmium Crane. My heart speeds up in anticipation when I read his words. It's time. But time for what? Does he mean it's time for the announcement, or time to meet again?

"Haymitch," Cinna's voiced is laced with fear and apprehension. I meet his eyes, which confirm his fear. He points to the giant screen in front of us to a near delusional Katniss.

"Prim, you shouldn't be here, it isn't safe. Go back home and I'll be there soon. And don't forget your homework, you know how mad mom gets when you don't—" She is having a conversation with the wall of the cave, believing that she is speaking with her sister. This isn't good.

. . . . . . . . . .

0o0o

. . . . . . . . . .

~ Katniss ~

The simple act of breathing seems to deplete any bit of energy that I may have had left. I'm certain that I'm making myself worse with the amount of fear and trepidation I have regarding Peeta's safety. I'm anxious for him to hurry up and get back to me. He can't die. 'Please, don't let Peeta die' I beg to myself. 'Take me instead, Peeta is the one who deserves to live.' I'm not sure who it is that I'm asking for help, or who I'm bargaining my life with.

'Stop it, Katniss. You are not dying; I won't allow it.' Peeta's voice comes through loud and clear.

'Peeta? Is that you?' Over the last few hours, it has become exceedingly difficult to differentiate between my dreams and reality anymore. I could have sworn that only moments ago, Prim was in here talking to me, but when she began sparkling and then just vanished into thin air, I realized that something is very wrong with me. 'Prim is not in the arena, she is at home in District Twelve, safe with our parents.' I assuage to myself.

But Peeta is not safe, I remind myself. He is out there, all alone with no one watching his back with the careers lurking in the bushes. I wonder how many of us are left, we've got to be getting close to the end soon.

"Yes dad, I did my homework." I close my eyes, too weak to worry about Prim's homework right now.

"I don't get what's so special about this Moaning Lisa, Peeta." Peeta and I sitting underneath our favorite oak tree behind the school for our lunch period. I'm not sure how we approached the subject of famous art from before The Dark Days.

"It's Mona Lisa, and it's a famous painting from way before The Dark Days. It's not just famous, it's so much more than that. I actually heard the original work of art is hidden away somewhere in The Capitol, along with a few others."

"That's another thing that I don't understand. What would possess someone to even think to save some silly ole' painting? Like I mean, I wonder what was going through their mind? 'Like hey man, we're in the middle of a war zone, oh wait, let me get that portrait before you smash the building into smithereens'!" I deepen my voice to mimic a soldier. "Because really, what purpose did it have? I mean...what is the point in art, it's not like you can eat it or make something else from it."

"Take that back right now, Katniss Everdeen!" The playful gleam in Peeta's eyes gives away the seriousness of his tone.

"Or what?" I challenge Peeta.

"You take that back right now, or so help me I will—" Peeta has the most melodramatic expression painted across his face right now and it really brings the blue out in his eyes. Have his eyes always been so bright and clear? How have I never noticed this before? 'Focus Katniss' I scold myself for getting lost in the beauty of his eyes. Wait. What?

"That's what I thought, you're not going to do anything. You're all talk, Peeta Mellark." I should feel guilty for finding a modicum of pleasure in my teasing banter with Peeta today, but for some reason, I don't. He loves to make empty threats but has yet to follow through even once, why should today be any different?

Peeta opens the brown paper bag that holds the contents of his lunch and sticks his nose in to smell his sandwich. Instead of pulling the sandwich out though, he reaches over and starts tickling me.

"No, stop it Peeta! You know I hate it when you tickle me!" He doesn't stop, instead, he starts poking at my sides, behind my neck, and then my arm pits, alternating to a different spot every other second. I squiggle around haphazardly, squealing out in a fit of laughter while he's got me squirming like a lunatic.

Suddenly, I collapse onto my back and Peeta is hovering above me, gazing into my eyes. It takes me a few seconds to catch my breath and calm down from the hysterical fit of laughter that his tickling fingers applied me with. Our eyes remain locked on each other as our breathing evens out. The rational part of me should get up and remove myself from the equation, but somehow, Peeta always manages to quell the rational part of me.

There is an invisible electromagnetic force guiding me and...and then I'm overcome by this perplexing feeling in my stomach that I've never felt before, and for a moment, I wonder what it would feel like to kiss him. I wonder if Peeta's lips taste as soft and delicious as they appear, and how his bottom lip would feel against my own lips if I were to take it in my mouth and suck on it.

As if they're aware of our need for a distraction, the mockingjay's make their presence known from high up in the tree above us, AS Peeta pulls away with a flushed face to grab his sandwich from the brown bag. I sit up, confused about these uncanny, yet not completely unwelcome feelings, and follow Peeta's lead and take my lunch out too. Peeta hands me the other half of his sandwich, and I offer half of my rabbit to Peeta.

I can't remember when spending our lunch period together and sharing our food with each other Became our routine, but I can't imagine spending my time with anyone else, just Peeta. Peeta has wormed his way into my space and taken root in my life, and for the life of me, I wouldn't want it any other way.

"Katniss, whether you believe it or not, art is important. It's just as important as say…water; yeah, it's just as important as water." Peeta picks our conversation up exactly where we left off before the tickling.

"How do you figure? Because the way I see it, if you didn't have any water for two weeks, you'd be dead. That is a fact. However, if you went two weeks without coloring your pictures, you'd be just fine." Peeta gets this vexatious look on his face, insulted at the fact that I referred to his art as 'coloring.'

Peeta feigns being insulted. "First of all, I am not some little child who likes to 'color'. I'll have you know that I am an artist; a talented one at that, and my creations are more than exquisite."

I swallow down the food in my mouth and take a sip of water before composing myself to come off as indifferent. "Yeah, I guess so." I say nonchalantly; I know that Peeta's artwork more than qualifies as a work of perfection, but I can't very well admit it out loud to him or it will just go to his head.

Peeta's playful banter is replaced with a sobering expression. "Katniss, what do you need to survive? Not 'you' like 'you in general', but you, like, 'You, Katniss Everdeen'." I'm not sure where he's going with this, but I decide to play along.

"Okay, um…Well if you don't have food and water, you'll die, so that's a no brainer. And then I guess…a home to live in, and...uh...my family to live in it with me. What about you? What does Peeta Mellark need to survive?"

"Food, water, and shelter of course, because like you said, without those essential things you will die. And then, I, Peeta Mellark need only you and my sketchbook and charcoals to survive." My face contorts in surprise at his statement.

"You're going to have to elaborate, because I do not for one second believe that if you lack the ability to sketch, that it would kill you."

"Let me ask you this first. What would happen to you if you could never go into the woods, ever again? If all of the woods in all the districts were destroyed and you were made to be stuck inside for the rest of your life, what do you think would happen to you?"

I ponder his question for a moment before offering my answer. I don't want him to be right, but I think I get it now.

"I think it would be hard. At first, I'd be antsy, and maybe a little sad and withdrawn, but eventually I would get over it and move on."

"Hmmm. Okay." I don't like the way he said that.

"What is that supposed to mean?" I ask him.

"Here's what I think: If you couldn't go into the woods, you would be climbing the walls, and then I think you'd eventually go completely and utterly insane. You love being in the woods more than you love any one thing in the world. You find solace perched high up in a tree, inhaling the fresh air and absorbing to the sounds only Mother Nature can provide you with. The woods are a part of you, and when you're out there, you become one with it."

The beauty of his words hits me with a sudden force as I begin to understand the point he is hoping to convey.

"The woods are to you what you and sketching are to me." He states very matter of factly.

"Are you insinuating that you would die if you went without me for a few weeks?" I send him a cheeky grin.

"Katniss, my need to be near you is equivalent to my life force for oxygen." I feel the heat of my blushing cheeks creeping all the way to the tips of my ears.

"Why do you say things like that Peeta?"

"You know why Katniss."

. . . . . . . . . .

0o0o

. . . . . . . . . .

~ Peeta ~

I'm not sure how long I've been wandering through the forest, but one thing is certain; I am lost. I don't recognize anything, and I feel like I just keep walking in circles. I need to get back to Katniss, and I need to get there now.

Another hour passes by and I feel the panic creeping into my blood. Instead of panicking, I choose to get angry. "FUCK!" I scream out at the top of my lungs, pissed as hell at myself for not paying attention when I went to find Rue.

I need to get back to Katniss, I have to get back to her. Being lost is not an option I have. I wonder if Haymitch is watching right now, or if he's too drunk to care. He promised me he wouldn't get wasted, and he also promised not to let Katniss die. Why isn't he helping me?

As if he is privy to my thoughts, I reach out and grab the parachute that floats its way into my hand. Whatever it is, it better be sufficient in its ability to get me back to Katniss. I open the small parachute and take out this small, round gadget the size and shape of a pocket watch; I think it's a compass. I look at the note that is attached to it, and my entire face screws up in utter confusion. 'Is this a joke? Or maybe a foreign language?' I think to myself just as I realize where I recognize the symbols from.

It's the 'schedule' Haymitch was so insistent on getting us to memorize. It takes me a good twenty minutes to decipher the message.

'Never fail to take the beauty of the rising sun for granted, if you're not careful…Pleasures such as those may slip between your fingertips' I immediately understand Haymitch's message. The sun rises in the east, the east is the way to Katniss. Pleasures such as these may slip between your fingers; time is not on our side.

I whisper a rushed thank you to Haymitch while I use the compass to point me towards the east. I make sure to secure Katniss' bow along with my knife and take off in a run to get to the girl I love more than my own life.

Another hour passes and I'm relieved when I begin to recognize my landmarks. When I pass the tree that I named 'the crooked tree', I know I'm not far from her.

The sound of trumpets blare throughout the arena, causing me to nearly jump out of my skin. 'What the hell?' I say to no one in particular as I continue to run.

"Attention tributes, attention! There has been a slight rule change. Two winners will be permitted if they reside from the same district. Again, two winners will be permitted if they reside from the same district. Good luck, and may the odds be ever in your favor."