Two updates in a week? Who am I? (You are so luck I didn't follow that question with a Les Mis reference, you're welcome.) Anyway, here is the second half to the Nine reaping. It's written in a different way... so different that in fact we still haven't exactly met the tribute. But that just adds more excitement to the train rides, right? I hope you enjoy this, because it was probably my favourite thing to write to far, I love Clem and I'm so excited for the story line with him that's to come, an exploring his relationship with Mox and other characters. Enjoy!

Gamemakers

"A no show, Clem? A fucking no show?" Mox walked round the back of Clem's chair, massaging his shoulder gently to relieve the stress he was clearly under. "Your games are a gold mine. You have some exes, a father and daughter, a disabled girl whose dad is one of the most famous inventors in the world, and a no show. God Clem, how I wish I was in your position right now."

Some days, Clem thought he was in love with Mox, he thought they could have a house and a child and a life, away from the games and the killing and the manipulation. And then there were days like this, where she was so insensitive and driven by work that he wasn't sure she was someone that was capable of being loved. Sometimes she was everything he needed, she countered the doubts he always felt, but sometimes, moments like this, he just wished that she would leave him alone, to work through everything that was spinning in his mind.

His tribute hadn't shown. Clem racked his brain, trying to remember the last time something like this happened. He recalled reading it in an article a few weeks back, as he was preparing to take on the job of a lifetime. It was the 76th Games, the first one back since the failed rebellion, all the hope the districts felt was destroyed by an arrow to the Mockingjay's heart. Without a leader they were a mess, the rebels had no plan anymore, and no matter how hard people fought to take Katniss' place, nothing was successful. They became ruled by wanting to be the next leader and lost sight of their common goal. And so the Capitol swooped in and took back control. That didn't dull the need for change though, and when the next games rolled around, half of the teenagers didn't show up to the reapings, kept at home by their parents or their own free will.

It hadn't happened since, and until this day, Clem was sure it would never happen again. After the sham that was the 76th Hunger Games, the Capitol were embarrassed. What was meant to be their triumphant return ended in pure humiliation. And the thing Clem knew the Capitol hated more than anything was being the butt of the joke. The Peacekeepers acted, on instruction from President Snow. They killed them all. Every child that didn't show up, every family that was partied to their rebellion. Districts were hit hard but the cullings, Twelve, still loyal to Everdeen, lost half their population that day. Other districts had been affected less, but that didn't stop them from knowing that the mistakes they made that day could never be repeated again. Clem supposed that Lana Spice would have met the same fate, had her name not been called. As if being reaped for the Hunger Games was some kind of favourable alternative. He wondered why she hadn't shown up, doubting it was some act of rebellion, a single person hardly made much of a statement. But then she had, hadn't she? He was still thinking about it now, when the name of Lana's male district partner had already escaped his mind. She was the first person in fifty years to not attend a reaping. Maybe all they needed was one person to start the next rebellion. And Lana was that person.

Was it bad that Clem was longing for a rebellion? Of course it was bad. It was really really bad. He was the Head Gamemaker, for God's sake. He had a target right over his head, begging to be shot at. But he couldn't help feeling that it would be deserved. The Quell was his idea. The plans he had for the games all came from his own twisted mind. Sure, now he regretted ever stepping foot in the Capitol, but at one point, this was all he ever dreamt about.

It was stupid, Clem knew, to jump straight to the idea that this was some sort of rebellion. More than likely the girl had just run away, or was too scared, the possibility of this being a part of some wider plan was unlikely. Fear was what he assumed it to be. She must have been terrified of her name being called, and Clem didn't blame her. He was scared for all these tributes, terrified that he was supposed to bring the most exciting Games, all at their expense.

"She has brothers. What do you suppose we do with them?" Mox eventually broke the silence, walking around Clem's desk to sit opposite him. It was weird, sitting like this. Clem spent most of his time in bed or hanging out with Mox, to adopt such formalities was something so foreign to him, but in the last few days, especially since Clem had disclosed he didn't exactly watch the reapings, she had started to distance herself, and he knew immediately that no good could ever come of that.

"Leave them." Clem sighed, the family had already been through enough losing their sister, there was no way he would allow for their killing, it was the least he could do. "We have the girl, surely a worse punishment will be watching her get killed."

Mox nodded, standing up and walking towards the door. "Chin up, Clem, the fun's only just about to begin." She shot him a smile, unlike anything Clem had ever seen before as she left the office, letting the door swing shut behind her.

Her smile sent shivers down his spine, and for the rest of the day, Clem couldn't shake the feeling that he no longer had Mox on his side.

He looked down at the list of tributes in front of him, only six names missing now, he could only remember the reapings of about two of them, which really wasn't a good sign. The most recent name, Doug Miller, was written in Mox's handwriting, and Clem found himself tracing it, willing time to turn back to when things were so much simpler, to when all he wanted was Mox and a life in the Capitol. When his conscience was just something he brought up in conversation every now and then, something that didn't really exist. When things were black and white- Capitol good, Districts bad. When the tributes were just a number, just a face with no personality or family or life. When Clem didn't care if they lived or died.

He closed his eyes, and before he knew it, Clem was asleep, dreaming of a world where he was Head Gamemaker, but felt none of the consequences.

"How can you sleep, knowing what you've done?"

Clem didn't recognise the voice. And he had always been pretty good with remembering voices. He was even better with faces, and as he looked up, although he was still half asleep, he knew he didn't recognise the person either.

"Sorry, sir? Is there something I can help you with?" Clem rubbed his eyes, pulling down his suit jacket and straightening up his appearance with little success. He looked the man in front of him up and down, trying desperately to rack his brain and work out exactly why he was standing there. He was tall and broad, and his hands were dirty, he wore overalls with 'Miller's Mechanics' written across them.

Miller.

Why did that name sound so familiar? Clem's heart stopped as he looked down at the paper in front of him, his fingertips still placed on one name. Doug Miller.

He shot up, reaching for the walkie talkie on his desk, fully intending to call security. But then something hit him, Miller didn't seem to be aggressive, he was more broken and hurt, and it occurred to Clem that maybe blood wasn't what the man was after. Slowly he sat back down, gesturing for the mechanic to do the same.

"Mr Miller," He spoke, trying so desperately to correct the way his voice was shaking.

"Please, call me Todd." The man spoke, interrupting Clem, something the Gamemaker was silently thankful for. "I was working downstairs from here, fixing some of your guys' cars when I got the news of my nephews reaping. I thought why not come pay the man himself a visit." Of course, the thought had completely slipped Clem's mind. All the Capitol mechanics were fixing up the arena, the best form the districts had been called upon to help with the needs of Capitol citizens, making them exempt from the reapings. Apparently, the Miller's were the best.

He imagined how happy Mox would be to find out they had another almost famous tribute in the Games but all Clem could feel was dread. Worse than dread though, was the guilt, the crippling guilt that consumed his life and ruled him. The guilt that had replaced the ambition that used to fuel him.

"Okay, Todd." Clem continued, still hesitant. "I know this isn't what you want to hear, and I'm sure you aren't going to believe me but I'm so sorry."

Something about Clem changed in that moment. A piece of himself that he was sure he lost years ago came to the surface. His humanity. Clem wasn't just some working machine, he had morals and feelings and that was something he could not long push aside. He was destroying families, families like the Miller's who were prominent and had lives and dreams.

"For some reason, Sir." Miller spoke, just as the first tear escaped Clem's eyes. "I believe you."

Clem nodded, walking to the windows and shutting all the blinds. He turned off all the computers in his office and pulled out the phone from the socket in the wall. He knew the Capitol, and he knew that they had ways of listening.

"Tell me about him." Clem looked Todd straight in the eye. "Tell me about your boy."

Todd took a shaky breath, unsure why exactly he hadn't knocked out the guy in front of him. Part of him was still too shell shocked to move. The kid he had taken in when he was a toddler was now gone forever, and he hadn't been there to say goodbye. He hated the Capitol more for that than the actual reaping. They couldn't just stop there, no, of course Todd had to be called away, stuck in this bloody place, never to see Doug again.

"He draws." Todd Miller smiled fondly, picturing the way Doug always stuck his tongue out when he drew, his brow creased in concentration. It was a trait he had had all his life, something he had carried into his teenage years, and always brought the family a laugh. "He was, he is," Todd corrected himself, attempting to focus on the fact that his boy wasn't gone just yet. "So talented. My daughter, Poppy, writes and Doug could spend hours sitting there next to her drawing along. They spoke about everything and nothing all at once. Nothing in the whole world makes me prouder than watching them together, creating and making the world a better place just by being." He looked up at Clem, fully expecting the man to have tuned out, only having asked as a courtesy, and to stop Todd from murdering him. But sure enough, the Gamemaker was staring back intently, hanging off of his every word, desperate for more. "Doug was supposed to take over this job after me, I've been training him for years." It felt weird to say his nephew's name out loud, knowing that he would never say it to his face again. "He has such a bright future in front of him."

Clem felt his hands begin to shake as he contemplated his next move. "I can get you to him. It's only right that you get to say goodbye, it's the least I can do for you. But you have to trust me, and you have to keep this between us." Clem knew that it was risky and wrong, as soon as the thought entered his mind. But there was no way he could let this man leave the Capitol without giving him a little something back. He owed it to Todd, and to Doug and to all the tributes, most of whom he couldn't help at all. But mostly, Clem couldn't deny that he owed it to himself, this was his chance to remind himself that he wasn't the cold heartless killer the Capitol wanted him to be.

Slowly, Todd Miller nodded his head, reaching out a hand across the table. Clem accepted it, shaking it, feeling that for the first time in a long time, he was finally in control.

So there we go! Officially 2/3 of the way through the reapings and we have 18 tributes (17.5 if you count the fact we haven't actually met Doug...) and the next stage of the fic is in sight! I can't believe that it is over 30,000 words and the reapings haven't ended... thank you for baring with me and all my long, rambly chapters, I promise it will be worth it in the end. Do you have any favourite tributes? Anyone you hate and can't wait to see get killed off? Any potential lovers or alliances? I would love to know you're theories on the twists to come in this SYOT because believe me, I have a lot planned...

As always, thank you for reading and reviewing and following and just generally being great. Stay safe, wash your hands and feel free to message me if you need someone to talk to.

Until next time,

Alice xxx