Disclaimer: I don't own The Hunger Games.

Note: Thank you to li'l fat necrosis and TitanMaddix for Klaudia and Mariska, respectively.

District Eight
Fools

Lander Katzung, 60
Victor of the 6th Hunger Games

They couldn't afford to let their guard down.

Lander glanced at the clock on the wall as he and Carolina waited. Kit still hadn't come down from his room. The boy still had a tendency to lose track of the time, which wasn't usually a problem. They weren't ordinarily in much of a hurry to get anywhere. Where was there in District Eight to be excited about going, after all?

Certainly not the reaping. But they couldn't afford to be late. They couldn't afford to even appear to step out of line. Not when they were so close. So close to things returning to normal.

Normal. That was a terrible way to think about it. But these last eight years of sending more than two tributes – six during the 42nd Games, and four every year since – had really taken its toll on their district. The idea of returning to only sending two tributes was almost a welcome one. Almost. There was still nothing good about kids being sent to their deaths, but sending two was at least a bit … less bad. Which wasn't quite the same thing as "good," but it was really about as much as they could hope for.

"Maybe I should go check on him," Lander offered. But, even as the words left his mouth, Kit emerged, straightening his tie as he made his way towards the door, where Lander and Carolina were waiting for him. "About time," Lander muttered.

Kit glanced over at the clock. "I'm not late."

"Yet," Lander finished.

Carolina elbowed him. "Lander."

"Care."

"It's reaping day. Go easy on him."

"I'll go easy on him once we're on the train. Right now, we just need to not mess this up."

Kit shook his head. "I'm not planning anything stupid, if that's what you're worried about."

Lander rolled his eyes. "It's not the stupid stuff people plan that I worry about. It's the stupid shit they don't plan to do that causes trouble."

Kit turned to Carolina, who shrugged unhelpfully. "He's not wrong."

Of course he wasn't. Kit sighed, but didn't object as the three of them headed for the square. Lander clapped a hand on his shoulder as they walked. "I didn't mean it like that, kid. We're all wound a bit tightly right now. Let's just get through the reaping."

Kit nodded. "Right." They weren't the ones who had to worry about the reaping, after all. He and Carolina didn't have any children. Well, unless Kit counted, but they'd only taken him in after his own Games. Everyone else they knew was too old to worry about the Games. Lander shook his head, almost chuckling a little.

When had they gotten so old?

"What's so funny?" Carolina asked.

Lander smiled a little. "Nothing. It's just … can you believe it's been forty years?"

"Since my Games?"

Lander nodded. "You were so young."

"I was eighteen."

Lander shrugged. "You acted younger."

"And you were a grouch."

Kit smirked. "Were?"

Lander gave him a little punch. "Watch it, kid."

Carolina smiled. "Some things don't change."

Lander slid a hand into hers. "And some things do."

Carolina squeezed his hand. "For the better, I hope."

"For better or worse," Lander reminded her. "You promised."

"So did you."

The two were still smiling as they neared the square. Sure enough, they weren't late at all; the crowd was just as reluctant to arrive as they had been. Teenagers were still trickling into their sections as the three of them took their places onstage. Their escort, Samarin Lanair, smiled warmly as he joined them. Maybe it was just Lander's eyes playing tricks, but Samarin was beginning to look a bit older, too. Most Capitolites did their best to cover up any signs of aging, but he was sure he could see some wrinkles in the older man's blood-red skin. He'd served as an escort for District Eight since the First Games.

The First Games. Everything had changed so much since then. Careers. More tributes. And now a second Quarter Quell. Strange, really, that this was the most normal things had felt in a long time.

"Hello there, District Eight!" Samarin called. "It's good to be back!" For a moment, it almost sounded like he meant it. Like someone might actually be glad to arrive in District Eight. He was putting on a show, of course, but he was doing a damn good job of it. "As you all know by now, you'll only be sending two tributes to this very special Quell, thanks to your district's three Victors."

Lander smirked. It was the only time the district would be grateful they only had a few Victors. But whatever the reason, the crowd seemed a little more relaxed than normal. Lander leaned back a little in his chair. Just get through the reaping without anyone doing anything stupid.

Samarin made his way to the single reaping bowl, reached in, and pulled out a slip of paper. "Your first lucky tribute is … Klaudia Almasy!"

Lander almost breathed a sigh of relief when he saw it was the eighteen-year-old section that was parting. Older tributes didn't always mean better chances – Kit had been thirteen, after all – but it was always a bit of a relief to see someone capable on the stage. His sigh caught in his throat, however, when he saw the girl. She wore a plain white blouse, pink skirt, and white stockings. She was tall but very thin, with pale skin, blonde hair, freckles, and blue eyes that were darting back and forth, confused. She swayed a little. Then a little more. Lander fought back a groan. Fainting at the reaping was never a good sign.

Then he saw the man. An older, grey-haired man, pushing his way through the crowd. Too old to be her father. Maybe her grandfather. He reached the girl just as she collapsed, catching her as she sank to the ground and helping pull her back up. She was nearly standing on her own by the time the Peacekeepers reached them.

"Shit," Carolina muttered as she sprang up, racing into the crowd. Lander followed, but he already knew they were too late. The old man turned and saw the Peacekeepers heading for the girl, and immediately began shouting. The Peacekeeper made a move to grab the girl. The old man pushed back – hard. Harder than Lander would have guessed possible for a man his age. The Peacekeeper reached for his gun.

Lander saw it, but Carolina was faster. She was closer. She'd rushed into the crowd sooner, figured out quicker that the old man would fight to save the girl. She collided with both the Peacekeeper and the old man, and a shot rang out. As the three of them tumbled, someone must have struck the girl, because she fell to the ground.

By then, more Peacekeepers were moving in. Lander pushed forward through the crowd, pulling Carolina off the Peacekeeper and the old man, who were still struggling for the gun. It didn't look like she had been hit. It didn't look like anyone had been hit. Maybe the Peacekeeper had fired into the air. Maybe he'd missed. But they couldn't count on getting that lucky again.

Together, he and Carolina pulled the old man away, but both he and the Peacekeeper gripped the weapon tightly, pulling it back and forth, pointing it in every direction. It was only a matter of time before—

Then the gun went off. Lander staggered backwards as a sudden pain shot through his shoulder. Both the old man and the Peacekeeper dropped the gun. Carolina held the old man back as two of the Peacekeepers dragged the girl to the stage. Whether she'd hit her head hard when she'd fallen or whether she'd simply fainted, Lander wasn't sure. That wasn't his biggest problem right now.

Once the girl was safely onstage and the old man ushered back into the crowd, Carolina rushed to his side, wrapping her jacket around his shoulder. "It's fine," Lander muttered. "Grazed me."

"Liar."

"Guilty." He gripped her hand as she helped him to the stage. The wound hurt like hell, but he would be fine. "Samarin!" he called. "Just draw another name and get it over with!"

Samarin quickly obliged, reaching into the bowl even as Lander and Carolina were still making their way through the crowd. "Mariska Vasile!"

Just as he and Carolina passed the sixteen-year-old section, it parted around a girl in a thick black jacket, dirty grey blouse, and a patchwork skirt and stockings. She was tall and spindly, her skin sickly pale, her dark brown eyes sullen and tired. Her long brown hair fell in a mess of curls to her shoulders, hiding her face a little as she shook her head, a hint of a wry laugh barely escaping her lips. "Figures," she muttered as she stepped out of the crowd, glancing over at Lander and Carolina as the three of them headed for the stage.

Lander met her gaze. Don't do anything stupid. And, sure enough, she didn't. No one rushed forward to save her, and that was just as well. It wasn't as if the old man had actually helped the other girl. If anything, he'd made things harder for her.

"I think we can forego shaking hands this time around," Samarin noted as the three of them joined him onstage, the other girl still slumped at his feet.

Lander nodded gratefully, and Samarin dismissed the crowd. Lander sank into his chair as the cameras finally clicked off. "This is what I meant when I said I was worried about what people don't plan to do."

Carolina shrugged, wrapping Kit's tie around the wound. "Like you racing into a crowd after me?"

Lander grimaced. "Or you racing into a crowd in the first place."

"You think it would've been better if I hadn't?"

"I think I would be better off if you hadn't."

"You didn't have to follow me."

Lander shook his head. "You know I did." He gripped Carolina's hand tightly as she finished bandaging the wound. "Kit? If you ever find someone you're willing to do something this stupid for, you don't let them go, you hear?"

"Sometimes you don't have a choice," another voice observed.

Lander turned to see their second tribute. "Thought you were supposed to be off saying goodbyes," he muttered.

"Thought you were supposed to give useful advice," the girl spat back. "Is that all you've got? Go say goodbye to your loved ones?"

Lander smirked at Carolina. "That one's mine."

The girl frowned. "Great."

Lander shook his head. "You can thank me later. For now, go thank your family."

"For what?"

"For not doing anything stupid." He turned to Carolina as the Peacekeepers took their tributes away. "How's it look?"

Carolina nodded. "This'll hold til we can get you looked at on the train. You got lucky."

Lander shrugged, immediately regretting the motion. "That Peacekeeper got lucky. Imagine what you might've done if he'd really hurt me."

Carolina smiled uneasily. The truth was, neither of them wanted to think about that. If the Peacekeeper had actually hurt him – even killed him – what would Carolina have done? He didn't want to think that she would've gotten herself killed, too, but she was the one who had raced into the crowd first. And if they had both died, what would have happened to Kit?

Lander shook the thought from his head. He was fine. Carolina was fine. Kit would be fine. Right now, they had two tributes to worry about – tributes who needed their attention more than he did. Lander stood up, still a bit shaky. "Let's get to that train."

"I'll take the other girl," Carolina offered as they left.

"I'm still coming," Kit insisted.

Lander nodded. "Of course." They'd spent enough years going to the Capitol together for the Games, he couldn't imagine not bringing Kit along. Maybe it wasn't exactly the best place to be, but it was still better than leaving him here alone. But eventually…

Eventually, he would have to take over mentoring. But, hopefully, he would have some more company by then. Another Victor or two to help him carry the burden. Maybe even this year, if they got lucky.

And if no one did anything stupid.

Mariska Vasile, 16

At least they hadn't done anything stupid.

Mariska shook her head as her parents left almost as quickly as they'd come. Of course they hadn't done anything stupid. Of course they hadn't tried to save her from the reaping. And not just because they recognized there was nothing they could do. Her father wouldn't have lifted a finger to save her even if he could, and her mother … well, she was just trying her best to avoid her father. Just like Mariska always did.

At least she would never have to see him again – whichever way this went. If she died in the Games, that would be the end of it. And if she lived, she could be rid of him for good.

Mariska took a deep breath as the door closed behind her parents. She was getting ahead of herself. She knew better than to think that winning the Games would be easy. Especially after last year…

Mariska looked up, surprised, as the door opened again – this time revealing Willa's parents. Mariska tensed. She had barely seen the pair of them since Willa had died. Nineteen days into last year's Games – the longest Hunger Games yet – Willa had finally met her match. Mariska had been silently hoping, longing for her to be the one to come home. But she had known, deep down, from the moment Willa had been reaped. Willa had never had what it took to make it out of the Games.

Willa's mother stepped forward first. "We came to … to apologize."

Apologize? "For what?"

"For the way we acted … the way we treated you … after Willa … after last year's Games."

Mariska shook her head. They certainly hadn't treated her any worse than her own family had been for years. Sure, they'd shut her out. Stopped speaking to her. Treated her as their last painful reminder of their daughter. But she was used to that. Why were they apologizing now?

Willa's father held out something. A bracelet made of buttons. Mariksa swallowed hard, fighting back her tears. She recognized that bracelet. It had been one of Willa's favorites. "We want you to have it," Willa's mother said softly. "For her."

Mariska nodded, took the bracelet, and slipped it on. "I'm sorry, too."

Willa's mother shook her head. "For what?"

"I knew Willa wasn't … couldn't … I could have taken her place. And now I'm here, anyway."

"There's no way you could have known."

But she had. She had known, from the moment they'd called Willa's name. She was too good. Too sweet. She had been the best thing in Mariska's life, and she'd let the Games take her.

Mariska looked away as Willa's parents left. If you ever find someone you're willing to do something this stupid for, you don't let them go, you hear? That was what Lander had said. Mariska held her tears back until the door was shut. No one else was coming. The only other person who would have come – the only other person who had ever loved her – was already gone. She had loved Willa more than anything … but she hadn't been stupid enough to save her from the Games.

A part of her wished she had been.

Klaudia Almasy, 18

She wished Austen hadn't been so brave.

Klaudia let out a gasp as she came to, lying on the floor of the Justice Building. Where was Austen? Where were Eniko and Daria? Were they all right?

Were they alive?

Everything was still fuzzy; she must've hit her head harder than she'd thought. She only remembered bits and pieces. Austen yelling at the Peacekeepers. Someone pushing her to the ground. She remembered a gunshot. No, two gunshots. Everything after that was a blur. But this was definitely the Justice Building. Not that she'd ever seen the inside of it, but it certainly didn't look like a train. And there wasn't really any other option.

Slowly, Klaudia sat up a little. "I was hoping you'd wake up before they called us to the train," said a voice. A voice she didn't know. Klaudia glanced around frantically. A woman was standing by the door – a woman with a red mechanical eye where her left one should have been, staring down at her. Carolina nodded a little. "That'll make this easier."

"Make what easier? Where's Austen?"

"Older man? Bit of a temper?"

A temper? No. No, that wasn't Austen at all. He'd never had a temper. She'd never even heard him shout before today. "He was just trying to protect me."

Carolina's expression softened a little. "I know. And now you need to protect him. He's waiting outside with a woman and a little girl."

"Eniko. She's my sister." Adopted sister, technically, but Austen had never treated her as anything but family. "Daria's my niece. Are they all right?"

Carolina nodded. "They're fine. They're all fine."

"There was a gunshot."

"Everyone's all right. Lander might be a bit grumpy on the ride to the Capitol, but never mind that. You have bigger things to worry about. What Austen did at the reaping was very brave … but we can't have any more of that."

"Bravery?"

"Rebellion."

"He's not a rebel."

"Doesn't matter. We can't have anyone acting like one. When he comes in here to say goodbye, you tell him to lie low for the rest of the Games. Not to cause a stir, no matter what happens."

No matter what happens. "You mean even if I die."

"Yes. Right now, the best thing he can do to help you is nothing. If he causes a fuss here, the Gamemakers can make the arena a living hell for you – for however long you last. The only thing he can do to protect you now is stay out of the way. Will you tell him that?"

Klaudia swallowed hard. She didn't want to die. But she certainly didn't want Austen to get in trouble because of her. "Okay," she agreed quietly. "I'll tell him."

Carolina nodded. "Good. I'll see you on the train." She opened the door to leave, but then turned back. "Klaudia?"

"Yes?"

"It seems like you have something good to come back to. Let's try to keep it that way."

Klaudia nodded. She did have something good. Certainly better than what she'd had before. Before Austen and Eniko and Daria. But in order to come back to them, she would have to fight. She would have to kill. Could she really do that? Could she really kill another person?

Would she really be strong enough?

"All our yesterdays have lighted fools the way to dusty death."