Prologue

I stared from my station in one of the furthest, most obscure stations in the whole training center, watching the room filled with 24 young tributes as they strove to 'prepare' for what lay ahead. Of course, there was really nothing in this room that could ever truly prepare them for the tragedy that they were about to face, and as I started at each of the children's faces I was struck hard once again, with the knowledge that in the end, I would only see one of them ever again.

That's what made this the perfect punishment.

"Hello," a boy asked, snapping me out of my bleak thoughts, and forcing me back to the present. Surprised I saw two of the tributes standing before me: a boy with ashy blonde hair, with fair skin, and startling blue eyes, and a girl with black hair tied back in a braid, and olive skin a shade darker than my own, and deep grey eyes. "Hello," the boy said again, offering me a small but warm smile. "This is the first aid station, correct?"

I nodded my head, forcing a smile of my own, as I fumbled to gather my materials on the table before me. I couldn't remember the last time, someone actually came to my station; most of them were preoccupied with learning other skills such as hand to hand combat, weaponry, or even edible plants; all of which was completely understandable. Not many even thought about learning more about first aid. After all, if you're injured in the hunger games, it's a pretty good bet to assume that your attacker isn't going to leave any chance for you to survive. Although, there were exceptions to that rule. I would know that the best.

The girl seemed to be almost reading my mind, and she rolled her eyes as the boy stepped closer to my table, ready to learn. I wonder why she stared here with him if she thought this was a waste of time? None of the other tributes from the other districts were sticking together, and from my memory, I couldn't remember any other tributes who ever had. These two certainly didn't look like careers, the only group who might be willing to train together.

I fought to remember everything from the opening ceremony the night before. Like ever other citizen of Panem I had been forced to endure watching each of the tributes paraded before the capitol, as the crowd cheered for their imminent deaths… excuse me, entertainment? It made me sick.

Still, I went through all of the faces again in my mind, doing my best to keep out other tributes from years past. And then it hit me, and I felt like a complete dunce. Peeta Mellark and Katniss Everdeen. The tributes from District 12. The ones that were on fire. I thought I remembered them holding hands during the Ceremony, but I figured it had just been part of their big entrance. I hadn't expected them to actual continue hanging around each other. But what did I know?

Without another delay, I went through all the essentials of basic first aid; applying pressure to stop bleeding, the importance of cleaning a wound, and how to use basic first aid supplies, etc. It was quickly evident that Katniss had some experience with medicine herself, and while she was certainly a far cry from a doctor, her abilities should be more than any tribute could realistically hope for, going into the games. I wonder where she had seen and learned this before, but then shrugged it off, knowing that it didn't really matter. "Good," I said once both Peeta and Katniss had performed the task at hand. "Now all of these things, are mainly helpful if you somehow manage to get your hands on a first aid kit. They usually provide one or two in the games, at the Cornucopia, but that is no guarantee that either of you will get your hands on one of them."

"So basically, this station is pointless?" Katniss asked, rolling her eyes.

"Not entirely," I said, shaking my head. "The principals of what I just taught you can be applied even without a first aid kit. You can use a piece of cloth or clothing to put pressure on a wound, water to clean out a wound, etc. However, depending on how severely you are injured, that may be a difficult task to do on your own."

"Then what would you suggest?" Peeta asked, with seemingly sincere interest. I smiled at him in appreciation for his considerate attitude, before continuing.

"Well, like I said, it's important that you are able to use whatever materials you have around you to try and meet these basic principles." I said. "If you are severely injured, and find yourself all alone, my suggestion would be to focus on stopping the bleeding as soon as possible. Use whatever may be around you, leaves, mud, cloth, grass. Anything at all, that you can apply pressure to, in order to stop the bleeding. Of course, this will do nothing to keep out infection, so if at all possible, it's important that you clean the wound first, and continue to clean it as much as you can. Then, either way, find a place to stay hidden, and just hope you outlast the others."

Peeta nodded grimly, and I knew it was hardly an encouraging speech. But it was the truth. The Hunger Games was all about survival, anyway you can manage it. At any price. And while, the scenario I described was not very hopeful or realistic, I figured it was best to prepare them for anything I could. Just in case.

"Hide, and outlast the others, huh?" Katniss mused. "Was that your strategy when you were in the games?" I cringed at the question, discouraged that she had not only recognized me, but I had called me out on my victors' status. I had worked hard to stay low, in hopes that the Capitol would forget about me, in comparison to their other heroes/entertainment, and the Districts the drudgery of their everyday lives. It helped that I was still fairly young in comparison to the other victors, 17, and my particular games had never been rebroadcast since I won 2 years ago. President Snow had made sure of that.

"I had many different strategies in the games…" I hedged, hoping to end the conversation quickly. "But yeah, I guess you could say that was one of them."

"Our Mentor Haymitch just told us to 'stay alive'," Peeta said with a small chuckle, obviously trying to lighten the mood, and I again smiled at him in thanks for this.

"Well maybe he's not as big of a fool drunk as he seems." I said, in a lame attempt for a joke.

"Why aren't you a mentor?" Katniss asked, eyeing me with a look of distrust, and perhaps some… curiosity? Hmm…. Maybe she recognized me enough to know I was a victor, but not to remember my name, or from what games. An impressive feat considering they hadn't been too long ago, but I should've known that between President Snow's determination and the hype from last years games, my name had been put on the back burner. At least that was somewhat of a relief.

In answer to her question, I shrugged my shoulders nonchalantly. "The other Victors from my District are far more qualified as mentors than I am, seeing as this really is about the only useful skill I could teach anyone. And gathering sponsors? Let's just say, I prefer to stay out of the limelight as much as possible. Besides, I'm sure President Snow figures I'm young enough to wait a few years before becoming a mentor. Let some of my predecessors die off first." I did my best to keep the bitterness out of my voice, but from the look in their eyes, I could see that I had fooled neither of the District 12 tributes. Well then, I thought, my stomach beginning to twist into knots as I thought about all of the potential repercussions if I did not handle this correctly. Better stick to my lines.

As smoothly as I could, I brought the conversation back to other medical and first aid tips, including having each of them practice making a tourniquet on a practice dummy. "What good is this?" Katniss asked after she had finished. "Everything you've shown us is how to aid another person. Do you really expect us to make ourselves a tourniquet in the arena?"

"I do believe, Miss Everdeen, that you are more than resourceful enough to figure out a way to do so if your life depended on it." I replied, doing my best not to let her questions and her cynical personality get to me. "Besides, anything can happen in the arena. Alliances can be made. You may be surprised by the life you could save, or who might save yours."

"What's the point if we'd only have to kill each other later on?" Katniss asked, still not convinced. "If you ask me, it only makes it harder to kill someone when you owe them a favor like that. But maybe that's your point…"

I shook my head, closing my eyes, fighting to find the right words. I knew that in the reality of the games, Katniss was right. Alliances were complicated, and killing someone who had once fought by you, defended you? Well, let's just say, there's a reason only the most heartless seem to come out alive. And while I knew, that it would be better, safer, for me to let the statement go unchallenged, in the pit of my stomach I didn't want them to believe that's what I meant. That I was the same monster as everyone else. I wanted to tell the truth… or at least a part of it.

"You know, Katniss?" I said, catching her by slight surprise at the casual way I used her name. Almost as if we had been friends forever. "Not everyone who tries to help you, wants something in return. Sometimes, people just care about one another, and doing the right thing. Even in the Hunger Games."

With that I turned around and pretended to look through my supplies as if re-setting my station for the next tributes who might come by. Not that I expected any more. 2 was already higher than what I'd had last year. When I heard, Katniss voice, and her words turned my blood to ice.

"Felicity Tweed. That's who you are." She said, and I could hear the realization in her tone. "Doing the right thing, huh? Helping people because you care about them, even in the Hunger Games? Is that what your sister taught you to say? Is that what you told Titus?" Her words were cold and fierce, and I could hear the anger behind them. But it was no where close to the anger that was building up inside of me. "You're nothing but a hypocrite."

With that I whirled around, watching as Katniss walked away, Peeta following slowly behind her, glancing apologetically back at me. But it was too late for that. All I could see was the girl on fire, stalking away, and the hurt that filled my soul at the images she had conjured. Images I fought to bury each and every day, just to survive. My sister. Titus.

Without thinking, I grabbed one of the sticks at my station, one with a particularly pointy end, and threw it as hard and fast as I could. The stick sailed through the air, grazing right past Katniss and sticking into the wall at the other side of the room. Everyone in the room was staring at me now, and I could see some of the other Stations mentors with their mouths hanging open in shock. But I didn't care. Not now. It was already too late for that. What was done was done, and if I was going to die for my insolence, then at the very least I would make sure that Katniss did not have the last word.

"Hey girl on fire," I said in a mocking tone, as I began walking slowly towards her. I had to give her points for courage, as she didn't take a step back or even appear to flinch at my approach, though I could see some nervousness in her eyes. "You think you know something? You don't know anything about me, or my games. Nobody does, nobody ever will. Except for me. So why don't you just shut that pretty mouth of yours, and focus on trying not to get yourself killed."

That last, I snarled directly in her face, and she met my fiery gaze straight on, her eyes filled with a fire of their own. I felt someone grab my arm, and turned to see Peeta standing there, his face filled with apprehension and concern. But he needn't have bothered. I had made my point. I yanked my arm away brusquely, before marching out of the doors, where unsurprisingly a group of peace keepers were gathering to meet me. "Take me away boys." I said with a smirk, raising my hands in the air in mock surrender, before they grabbed me and forcefully dragged me up the stairs.

5 hours.

That's how long they made me wait, in my prison cell, staring at the ceiling wondering what fate awaited me. Was I finally going to die? Or did they have some worse sort of punishment in mind. I shuddered, knowing all too well from experience that the Capitol was very cruel, creative, and effective with their punishments. It was the reason they were still in power. The reason none of the districts dared to rise up against them. The reason the Hunger Games continued to exist.

I jumped at the sound of my cell door opening, my eyes widening with surprise to see President Snow standing there. I wondered if my outburst really deserved such attention, but I guess after all the other problems my family and I had caused him, President Snow took everything personal where I was concerned. "Miss Tweed," He said, with a hollow smile as he took a step inside. I found myself instinctively backing against the wall, before mentally cursing myself. Where had the blatant courage I'd displayed earlier gone? What more did I have to fear from this man? What more could he possibly take from me?

"President." I nodded my head in acknowledgement. "Have you come to deliver me to my execution?"

"Oh of course not," President Snow said, chuckling in a way that made me grind my teeth in anger. "That would be such a waste my dear." How President Snow loved to play games. But I wasn't interested in playing anymore. I looked over his shoulder and saw some peace keepers and others dressed in what appeared to be surgical or doctors' robes, and I felt my stomach begin to churn. Though I was not about to show fear.

"Oh, so you've decided to turn me into an Avox then?" I asked, in a bored tone, keeping my voice even and nonchalant. "It's about time, don't you think?"

"Wrong again." President Snow said, with a small shake of his head, as a downright evil smile spread across his face. He turned back to his men, and motioned for them to come forward, "bring her in."

I watched with curiosity, as two peace keepers dragged in what appeared to be the body of a young girl. A cloth bag had been placed over their head to conceal their identity, but this didn't stop the girl from struggling against her captors. Once inside my cell, the Peace Keepers shoved the girl to the ground. Then, in his dramatic flair, President Snow motioned for me to step forward and remove the bag. I didn't want to follow his orders, continue as a puppet on his string, but I could only imagine how hot and stuffy it must be in that bag, and I couldn't allow the girl to go on suffering. Slowly, I knelt on the ground before her, and carefully lifted the bag free, revealing her face, pink and puffy from the heat and isolation.

"Nixie." I gasped, taking in the younger girls long, silky blonde hair that cascaded down her back, almost like a waterfall, and her baby blue eyes that were looking up at me filled with fear. I remembered the first time I had seen her, during my victor tour, when I was introduced to the family of my dead fellow tributes. I remembered the sadness in her eyes as she looked up at me, and how her eyes were almost identical to her brother's, Titus Cove. She had presented me with a gift from her family and the district, and as she gave it to me, she leaned forward as if to give me a hug, whispering two words in my ear: "I know." From that moment I knew that somehow, despite all of the Capitol's propaganda and ingenious ways of manipulating the footage, at least she knew the truth. And for the first time since the games, I didn't feel so alone.

I shook my head as if to clear away the memories. My heart began to pound in my chest, as I wondered what she could possibly be doing here. Then as I looked back and forth between Snow and his men, I knew.

I wanted to launch to my feet and punch President Snow right in the face, but I knew that would only make the situation worse. Instead, I threw myself over the younger girl, only 11 years old, turning my body into a shield against the men's intentions. "No! I won't let you touch her. This is my fault. I'm the one who should be punished, not her!"

"Oh, but you will be punished," President Snow assured me. "Through her."

With that, I was torn away from Nixies body, the two of us screaming as we reached for one another. Tears filled my eyes, and I tried to turn away, as the men began to operate, and Nixies screams became even more high pitched and frantic, but President Snow ordered the men to secure my head so that I would be forced to watch.

"Felicity! Felicity!" She cried, and I strained against the guards' grip, aching to rush forward, to save her, but they only strengthened their hold. "Flick!" I flinched at the sound of my nickname, one I hadn't used in 2 years. And then the cries went silent, and while Nixie's mouth remained open in a silent scream, only blood dripping out.

I was finally released, and I ran forward to pull the weeping girl into my arms, wiping away her tears as she gasped for air. "Nixie, I'm so sorry." I wept, now sobbing uncontrollably myself, as I rocked her back and forth in my arms, the way my eldest sister used to do to me when I was a child. "I'm so, so sorry."

"Perhaps now, Miss Tweed," President Snow said, after I seemed to have cried all that I could. "You will learn how to control your temper."

I turned to glare at him with ever ounce of defiance that I still had left. "It should have been me!" I snarled, clinging tighter to Nixie with every word. "I'm the one who threw the stick! I'm the one who attacked one of your precious little tributes! Besides, we both know that if I had really meant to hurt or kill her, I would have."

"You think this is just about your little stunt with Miss Everdeen?" Snow asked incredulously. "My, my, Felicity. I thought we were finally coming to understand one another. This is about you defying the Capitol in public. Again. About you, nearly disclosing our little secret." He hissed, and not for the first time, I pictured him exactly like a snake. "You're lucky it was only the training center, and that damage control is already handling the situation so news doesn't spread. Otherwise, I'm afraid I'd have to make a very public example of you and your sister. And despite your differences, I don't believe you'd like to see that happen, now would you?"

I glared at him, wishing I could say he was wrong, but I couldn't. In spite of everything, Miriel was still my sister. And I couldn't have her death on my conscience. I already had enough blood on my hands.

"That's what I thought." President Snow said, victoriously, before turning and starting to head out of the cell. "You'll spend the rest of the day here, before an escort of peace keepers will take you back to the training center to gather your things. After this unfortunate incident, I'm afraid you'll no longer be allowed to teach first aid to the tributes. However, next year, I believe would be a good time for you to start training to become a mentor. I'm sure your sister is more than capable to guide you in making the right decisions. And if not… well. You know the consequences."

"What about her?" I asked just before Snow left the room entirely. "What about Nixie?"

"She'll help you pack, and then she'll be assigned to wait on Miriel and her tributes from District 10." He explained without a backward glance. "You can spend the night at the training center if you wish, but in the morning, you will need to join your fellow tributes from your District to watch the Games."

I didn't bother to say anything more, knowing that it wouldn't make any difference, and just watched until the President and all of the Peace Keepers finally left. Then I went back to rocking Nixie in my arms, wiping away her tears, and whispering how everything was going to be alright. Both of us knowing that this was a lie.

After all my things were packed and ready to go, I escorted Nixie to her new quarters in the District 10 apartment. I smiled politely at my sister, who sat on one of the couches, discussing possibly strategies with her fellow mentor. She didn't even bother to acknowledge my presence. If I thought it would make things better, I might have forced the issue, asked her to take special care of Nixie for me, but I had a feeling that would only make things worse. Instead, I simply announced that I had been dismissed from the training center, and wished Miriel and her tribute good luck, before walking out the door without a second glance. I knew she'd heard me, whether she chose to acknowledge it or not. And I was not in the mood to deal with her and her manipulative calculations today.

I started heading back to my room in the basement of the building, when I stopped myself. If tonight really was to be one of my last nights or 'relative freedom' then I didn't want to spend it cooped up in my room, like a kicked dog. I wanted to see the stairs, breathe some fresh air. So carefully, I slipped into a secret staircase towards the back of the building, and headed to a spot that few tributes ever discovered. The roof.

I sat down near the edge, looking down at the world below me, and wondered when things had become so twisted. How I had lost control of every aspect of my life in such a short time.

"It's nice up here." A voice said from behind me, causing me to jump in surprise. I turned to see Peeta standing there, and I was surprised to see how calm he was, after what I had done to his fellow tribute. For being a boy that was about to enter an arena where he would be forced to fight to the death, he appeared strangely relaxed, as he came over to sit beside me and gaze out at the city lights. However, as he moved closer and struggled to make himself comfortable, I noticed the underlying tension in his body, and instinctively knew that he was more worried and scared than he'd like to admit.

"It's quite a view." I agreed, brushing my hair to the side as the wind blew it into my face. It was typically windy on the roof, but it seemed to be picking up more than it had only a few moments ago. However, I was not ready to leave this spot, despite the slight chill that it brought to the air. The two of us fell into a surprisingly comfortable silence, staring out into space, lost in our own individual thoughts.

"Have you ever thought about jumping?" Peeta asked suddenly, bringing me abruptly back to reality.

"From here?" I asked incredulously. "No, of course not. I wouldn't want to give them the satisfaction."

"The satisfaction?" He asked, raising an eyebrow at the bitterness of my reply. I sighed, looking up into the night sky as I wondered whether or not I should say anything at all. After everything that had already happened today, the logical thing would have been to tell him to forget about it, and get back to bed, before swiftly exiting and doing the same myself. That would be the logical thing to do. But somehow, I couldn't get my legs to move. I don't know what this boy and his fellow tribute, Katniss had brought out in me, but I could feel it burning in my veins. Perhaps it was watching Katniss volunteer for her sister at the reaping, sacrificing herself to save her the way big sisters were supposed to. Or the way she carried herself today at the training center, including her derogatory/judgmental comments about me and my past. Or the glimpses I saw of how this boy would look at her from time to time, when he thought no one else was looking. A familiar longing/awe in his eye, though he was good at concealing it. Maybe it was all of those things combined. Whatever it was, it made me want to open myself up for the first time in years. To be myself, tell the truth. "You don't have to tell me," Peeta finally said when I didn't answer after a while. "I didn't mean to pry."

He began to get to his feet, probably planning on heading back to his room. Just as I thought we both should. But for some reason, I still could not get my body to move.

"The satisfaction of breaking me." I finally said, just as he had turned and headed towards the door/stairs leading back inside. He paused, and turned to look at me and I rose my eyes to meet his gaze, wanting him to see the force and meaning behind my words. I was startled at their blueness, but this thought only lasted a second, before I forced myself to continue speaking. "If I were to try to jump off this roof, or cut my wrist, or anything else, I would only be showing the Capitol that they had won. That they had beaten me down until I had absolutely nothing left. President Snow may torture me, play with me, even kill me. But they can't defeat me."

He didn't gasp or scowl at my words, or even flinch, the way any sane person would. He just continued to stare at me with those deep blue eyes, as if trying to read me; understand my secrets. I finally had to look away. "Besides," I continued; my voice less fierce. "There's a electrified field around the roof. I couldn't throw myself off if I tried."

"I know." He said, and I whirled to look at him in utter confusion.

"Then why did you bother asking?"

"I don't know. I guess, I just wanted some insight on how you see the world. After our little encounter in the training center… I don't know. You just seem different than the other mentors and trainers and experts." He paused for a moment, and then continued. "And from the looks of it, you've already lost a lot."

There was silence for another moment, before I heard him walk over and sit beside me once again. I didn't dare look at him, not sure what I'd see. Not sure what he'd see. Would he turn me in? Had I just managed to get myself and my sister killed? Or worse? Another innocent loved one turned into a helpless Avox?

"You said that, we didn't know anything about your games." Peeta began slowly, and I chuckled derisively at the memory. "I know you had two… allies. Titus and Bo, who helped keep you alive. Is that right?" I stiffened at the sound of their names, before curtly nodding my head. "Can you tell me how?"

Now it was my turn to examine him closely, looking for his motivation in asking such a question. As if I didn't already know. "You want to protect her, don't you?"

It was his turn to shrug. "She's from my District. I figure she's our best chance at actually having a victor, so by helping her I'll be helping everyone back home too."

"Whatever you say, lover boy" I laughed, rolling my eyes at the obvious lie. "Don't worry Peeta, I don't think she's figured it out yet. You're secrets safe with me."

"Thanks," he said sheepishly, embarrassed by the way I had so easily called him out. "Though I don't know that it will be a secret for very long."

I nodded my head at that, and again a silence fell between the two of us, though this one felt awkward and filled with a kind of tension. "You know it was different with Fen and Titus. Fen was one of my best childhood friends. And Titus? Let's just say he thought a lot like Katniss. I guess he felt like he owed me a favor."

"But still," Peeta insisted, "whatever their reasons they both helped you survive. I want to know how. If you're willing to tell me." I hesitated another long moment. Why was I continuing to have this conversation? Nixie was turned into an Avox because of me. Did I really want to risk more trouble? "No one can hear us up here." He continued almost as if he'd read my thoughts. "Not with the wind and the windchimes. And I promise, whatever you say, I won't tell anyone. That will be our little secret."

I chuckled slightly at that, once again shaking my head, before taking a deep breath and turning to face him. "Do you want the short version or the long one?"

"Long." Peeta said with a smile. "You're statement earlier was intriguing. I want to know the truth of everything about your games. Besides, I'm hoping the more details I know, the more ideas I'll get for when we have our chance."

I smiled at that. He was a sweet boy, and I knew that Katniss was lucky to have him by her side, whether she knew it or not. Then I straightened my shoulders, and with more confidence than I felt, I began to tell my story. "My name is Felicity Tweed. I am the Victor of the 72nd Hunger Games."

So this is my first Hunger Games fan fic, (as you can probably tell) so I am super excited and nervous. I typically feel more comfortable writing for LOTR, but I've had this idea for a while, and figured I'd give it a shot. Hope you enjoy! Leave a review! :)

Disclaimer I do not own The Hunger Games or any of its characters.