A/N: Let the 75th Annual Hunger Games Begin...

This whole section is a bit nerve wracking for me, so I hope that it reads alright. I've never written in the arena before. Let me know what you think and thank you for all of your support so far!

It's 9 o'clock when my alarm clock sounds, and my eyes open without hesitation. I haven't slept, and I'm almost grateful. If I don't sleep, I don't dream. And without the dreams to cloud my consciousness, I'm not nearly as afraid.

I sit up carefully, pushing the escaped strands of hair back behind my ears, and I take a breath. One deep, clean breath.

It's odd how rarely a person appreciates a fresh breath of air, a breath which isn't rushed or desperate, a breath which they know full well will not be their last. For the first time in my life, I appreciate that breath of air.

But then the pounding sets in and I hear Haymitch on the other side of the door, "Wake up, sweetheart. Otherwise I'll have to send Effie to remind you of your 'big, big, day'!"

"I'm coming," I croak, surprised by my pained vocal chords. It must be from all of the whiskey.

I don't bother getting dressed, much to Effie's chagrin. I pull on a pair of shorts, a tank top, and tie my hair in a knot on the back of my head. Either way, they'll change my whole outfit before I'm on camera, so why should I bother?

As I enter the dining room I try not to cringe. Peeta is staring out the window, eyes completely blank—I don't want to imagine what he's going through right now. He's going into the arena, and he's going in with the person he loves most. I shudder slightly; I wish he didn't love me like he does.

It's going to kill him in there.

But then I realize, it's going to kill me as well, isn't it? My sisterly affection towards him is what's driving me forward—not to mention my feelings for Johanna. With the two of them in there, I can't even consider walking out alive. I couldn't do it.

I toast a bagel, and stare into my orange juice. Maybe if I just ignore them I can forget for a moment. Unfortunately, Haymitch places a hand on my shoulder and whispers, "Can I borrow you for a moment?" I nod numbly, and follow him into his room.

I'm surprised at just how clean it is, especially considering his house in 12, but I suppose having a maid helps. "Look Katniss, I know that you want Peeta to win," he begins, and I nod. "And I know that if he can't win, you would choose Johanna."

I open my mouth to protest, but he cuts me off quickly, "Don't bullshit with me, Sweetheart. I know you, and I can read you. We're good at that. I know that you would save her if you could."

"Fine, yes, I would. But I have to put Peeta first."

He looks pained for a moment, and takes a breath, "Katniss, I lied to you."

My eyebrows furrow automatically, Haymitch doesn't lie to me—that is part of why we work so well together. Brutal honesty. I tell him he's a drunk, he tells me I have all the charm of an inebriated slug, and we get along just fine. Why would he lie to me now?

"What about?" I whisper.

"Peeta and Johanna—they're both bent on saving you, they're both in love with you," he tells me, and I just nod. I know all this already; we talked about it last night. "Well, I am too, kid."

I take a stumbling step back, "Excuse me?" I squeak.

"Oh god, no! I'm not in love with you, Everdeen. Get over yourself," he snaps, "I'm betting on you to win, is all. I'm going to try and keep you alive, try and save you. It has nothing to do with affection, I like you and all, but it's not like that. You're what Panem needs right now—not anyone else. And you're the most likely to win. I have to bet on you."

"Haymitch, you promised me. You promised me you would try to bring him home. Whatever it takes!"

"I lied," he growls.

I don't understand, I shake my head blearily, trying to clear it, trying to find the missing piece, "Why are you telling me this?"

He sighs heavily, and runs his hand through his hair, "Because I don't want the last words I say to you to be a lie. I can't promise you'll survive, but I don't want to lie and promise that you won't. I'm going to be doing everything I can."

"I don't want that," I whisper desperately, can't he understand? "Haymitch, I'm okay with dying, but I can't lose them, I can't let him die!"

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," He says unhappily, "I do understand, but it's just the way it has to be."

"No!" I shout, preparing to fight him more. But at that moment Peeta knocks on the door.

"Guys?" He calls quietly, "They're here for us, we have to go."

Haymitch just closes his eyes, and then pulls me to him, hugging me tightly. It's incredibly uncharacteristic, but not unwelcome. I may be furious with him, but he still matters to me. "Just remember who the enemy is, Katniss," he whispers, "Never forget who the real enemy is."

He whispers it quickly and quietly, so quiet that I could almost have been imagining it, but before I can respond he's pulled away and walked out the door. I follow quietly, and Peeta meets me at the elevator. He takes my hand, and I know it isn't a sign of romance, not this time. He just understands what I'm feeling, for once. He understands the desperate need for human contact.

He doesn't let go of my hand until we are sent off with our stylists. Then he just squeezes it ever so slightly and walks away. No grand sweeping goodbye, just a small gesture, a sign of friendship, and it's perfect.

It's the first time that I feel like we've truly been friends, been close, since this whole nightmare started.

This is no place for a girl on fire.

The sun glares off of the water harshly, and suddenly my head is taunting me as it pounds, 'I told you not to drink so much last night' it jibes. I shake myself slightly, and will the headache away. This isn't the time.

I hear the countdown begin and I search desperately for Peeta—he's out of site, apparently behind the Cornucopia, but I can see Johanna several platforms away, she's completely focused. I take one more calming breath, poise myself to dive, and when the gong sounds I'm flying.

I hit the water quickly and the cold shocks any distraction from my system. I swim furiously and without considering a moment's breath. When I reach the cornucopia I'm shocked to find that I've arrived first.

How did that happen?

I grab a bow, sling the quiver on my back, and have an arrow in place so quickly that no other tributes have been able to approach. I see Gloss approaching quickly, grinning sadistically all the way, without a second thought I send an arrow soaring through his calf. It would have hit him in the chest, but he dives into the water—smart avoiding the arrow, unfortunately the leg wound won't do him any favors, it's doubtful he could continue to run, or even walk much, with the injury I just dealt him.

I will be the reason he dies—and I can't find it in me to care. Something in me has broken, and I know that I can't focus on it, can't try to fix it. I need to embrace that now.

The cornucopia creaks behind me and I spin in place. The arrow is a breath away from being released when I catch it—Finnick. "Still allies?" I ask warily, not moving my arrow an inch.

He smirks slightly, "Perhaps if you would just move that arrow a bit to the left, dear."

As I adjust myself cautiously, he sends a spear swishing past my shoulder. For a moment I think he's betrayed me already, until I hear the tell-tale thud of a body hitting the ground. Trust—I have to trust.

"Where's Johanna?" I ask, hoping that I don't sound too terribly desperate.

"She took off for the trees," he says, arming himself quickly.

I follow behind him, picking up a set of throwing knives, and a hatchet, as well as a second quiver of arrows. A plan is quickly making itself known in the back of my mind. We make for the woods, find water, and set up camp for the night. Tomorrow, we'll be able to get a full grasp of our surroundings.

But first—we need to find Peeta.

I make my way around to the other side of the cornucopia and find him wrestling another tribute in the water. He's obviously uncomfortable in the water—I don't even know how he's staying afloat. "Finnick!" I call out, unsure how to help. Sure, I can swim, but that other tribute is strong, and I know that I would only get in the way; my only hope is that Finnick will take a bit of mercy and help out an ally.

Before I can ask I see the Capitol heartthrob drop quickly into the water, barely making sound. Neither tribute notices his presence until they are swiftly pulled under the water. I can't see a thing, the water barely moves, and I can't breathe.

Maybe he isn't helping me. What if he's just using this opportunity to kill both at once? A cannon sounds and I stare desperately into the water, my arrow poised, just in case. Someone is dead, and I can only pray that it isn't Peeta.

Suddenly the water below me splashes to life as Peeta is thrown sputtering on to the thin stripe of land. He's hacking up water and desperately trying to take in air, but he's alive.

I turn and thank Finnick as he gracefully emerges, looking as if he's just taken a leisurely stroll—though I suppose for someone from District 4, he basically did. "Thanks, Finnick. We owe you."

He just shrugs, suddenly significantly less showy—maybe Johanna got to him too. She forced me to realize that they couldn't hurt me here; maybe she did the same to him. Maybe he knows that they don't hold him here.

"We should make our way to the jungle," he says thoughtfully, "find water, gain some perspective, hopefully catch up with Jo."

I actually smile slightly, "My thoughts exactly," I respond.

My knees hit the sand hard and I groan as the saltwater slowly washes away the residue from the mist. It's blindingly painful, but I know that it will get better; the water will wash it all away.

Cannons fire again and I want to scream. We've been here less than a full day and I've heard fifteen canons already—but these two, these two nearly break me.

I had thought that if I failed, that if Peeta died, it would be heroically. It would be worth showing in syndication. He would die saving me, or someone else. I would take deadly revenge on the person who dared to slay my friend. At the very least, he would have his moment.

But he didn't. My chest constricts at the thought and I find myself curling into the water. Finnick is nearby, I know he's probably close enough to touch—but he's doing the same thing.

Mags had her moment. She knew that she was slowing him down, and she loved him like he was her own. When she kissed him, and disappeared into the mist—that was what it looked like to be a hero. Not some stupid stunt with berries, or the ability to kill people, true selflessness. But her moment has nearly killed Finnick, and I can see his hope waning. It seems that Johanna was right, there is a hell of a lot more to him.

Peeta—Peeta just tripped. It could have happened to any of us, a lone root shoots out under foot, you fall. But Clumsiness is paid for in the Hunger Games.

He was only slightly behind me, and I had been watching him so carefully because of the electrocution. But the mist picked up speed, and those few feet made a difference. When he fell the mist engulfed him like a tidal wave. There was no question as to whether or not he would survive.

Finnick had to pull me away, even though logic told me Peeta was dead, I still couldn't just leave him—but Fishboy came through. He grabbed me by the waist and threw me ahead of him.

The mist stopped only moments later—it had done what it came to do. I don't doubt that the Game Makers were aiming to destroy us emotionally, I wouldn't even be surprised if they had made the root appear, murdered Peeta. But I can't prove it, and it doesn't matter.

The canons sounded, and we are alone.

I'm nearly asleep when she comes crashing back into my life, and I shouldn't be surprised. Doesn't she always manage to grab all of the attention?

Finnick and I have made camp on the beach, hoping to at least steal a few hours of rest while the others are distracted in the forest. It's clear at this point that there are a whole variety of evils lurking throughout. I volunteer for first watch, but it's clear he isn't going to be sleeping tonight.

I doubt I will either, but soon enough sleep begins to seep in through my pores, and I can't fight it. I didn't sleep last night, and my body is feeling the repercussions.

As my eyes finally begin to drift closed she come shooting out of the jungle, covered head to toe in blood, with a herd of apes howling behind her. My bow is out and armed before I can even consider what's happening.

She stumbles over Finnick's feet without even noticing him as she propels herself head first into the water. When she comes up, some of the blood has washed away, and she holds a spear in her hands.

We're all surprised when the Apes suddenly stop at the edge of the forest. Sure—they don't like water, that isn't that uncommon. But stopping a full hunt before they even reached the beach? That's odd. Perhaps Finnick and I chose a good place to rest afterall.

I'm jolted out of my surprise when I notice that there are two others with her, having run out of the jungle in a different area. But I can't tell who they are while the blood is still covering them.

"Fucking blood and apes!" Johanna screams hysterically, "What is this? The apes I can almost understand, sure bloodthirsty beasts are nothing new for the Capitol, but raining fucking blood? What is that?!"

I wan't to comfort her, or celebrate her return, but we need to focus, and I know that. My arrow is pointed sharply into the eye of the larger of the two intruders.

"Johanna," I call, "As happy as I am to see you, could you please give us some indication as to whether or not I should be killing these people." I'm surprised out how smooth my voice sounds, how cold. I expect it to be cracking, to tremble like my erratic heartbeat, but it doesn't.

She laughs darkly, "Calm down, kitten. I brought them for you—beneath all the blood are Nuts and Volts," she explains. Then she flops down in the water, clearly relieved that the immediate threat is gone. "You're welcome."

I slowly wade out into the water, careful not to frighten her. It's been several hours since they joined us, but I've hardly spoken to her. Beetee and Wiress caught us up on everything that happened, and it's obvious Johanna doesn't feel like talking about any of it. She just sits in the water, continuously scrubbing at her skin.

She's been perfectly clean for some time now, but she stays there, just scrubbing.

"You know, you can talk to me," she whispers as I draw closer, "I promise I won't break."

"I know. I just didn't know what to say," I admit, "I'm glad you're alive seems a bit cold, but it's the only thing going through my mind right now."

She smiled slightly, "I'm glad you're not dead either, Katniss." She stares off for a moment, and then looks back at me, "I'm sorry about Peeta."

I shrug, "I'm trying not to think about it. Finnick and I bonded over mutual mental breakdowns, but then we realized we had to keep playing, so that's what I'm doing. I can cry when I'm dead."

"Katniss," she says softly, but I just shake my head.

"I brought you a present." I interrupt, not wanting to have that conversation right now.

"Oh?" She says, tilting her head curiously to the side. I hand her the hatchet.

"It wouldn't be the Hunger Games if Johanna Mason didn't have an axe," I shrug.

She nods with a small smile on her face. Then she takes a breath, seemingly deciding something, "I think—I think they're personalizing it this year."

"What do you mean?"

"I know for a fact that Chaff is petrified of apes. Something from his games, my guess. He has night terrors about them."

I shrug slightly. Sure, I wouldn't put it past the game makers to specifically target the tributes fears, but one man's odd fear of apes doesn't seem to confirm a whole game theme.

"It's not just that," she continues. "The blood… that is something different. It isn't physically harmful at all, it's just terrifying. And I think they're doing it for me."

"Why you?" I ask carefully.

"In my games…" she begins shakily, shaking her head slightly, "I snapped, Katniss. I mean, I really snapped. I had been playing nice trying to get as far as I could that way, and then I realized that it was time—I was going to be the next one they killed if I didn't kill them first. I was out numbered, and the smallest tribute by far—but I knew I had to fight.

"It was an all-out blood bath. I don't remember large portions of it, but in the recap after wards, they showed me. My 'greatest moment' in the eyes of the Capitol. I was on screen, towering over the last girl—she was screaming, scared half to death, and I was covered in a mixture of six other kids' blood. I killed her, and then—then I laughed. I just sunk to the floor laughing hysterically.

"After that, the districts hated me for a long time. I was too vicious, I was too cruel. They got over it eventually, but on the victory tour—" she shivers slightly, "Three separate districts drenched me with blood halfway through my speech."

"Johanna," I tried, but she was in her own world.

"I didn't want to kill anyone, I just wanted to live—I don't even remember their faces. But since then, I can't stand the site of blood, let alone getting it on me. But now, now I think they made it rain blood for me."

"That's horrible," I tell her, disgusted. She flinches and I realize what I've said was wrong. I wrap an arm around her, "Not you! What they did to you! People just don't understand what it's like; they could never understand what it's like."

She shakes her head slightly, and takes a breath. "There was one other thing," she says, pausing for a breath before she continued. "Wiress went nuts a ways back, after we heard a scream. I thought it was just another tribute, but she swore it was her niece. Katniss, I've rarely seen anyone that upset. The woman is unstable, for sure, but this was something else."

My heart rate picks up speed, "You think they have people's family members in here?" I reply shakily.

She shakes her head, "They couldn't, it would be too risky, but I wouldn't put it past them to have their voices."

I can feel my hands shaking—if they have their voices, they could have them. What if they're not safe, what if she was wrong this whole time? Johanna covers my hands with her own, "Breath, kitten. They don't have her. Hell, Wiress could just be crazy. I mean, she does keep ticking and tocking—that doesn't exactly point to sanity."

I nod slightly, though I know she isn't convinced.

A lightning bolt strikes a tree in the distance, and I just try not to imagine my sister in a place like this.

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