AN: Thanks again to all who have been reading!

Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games nor any canon characters. I love Suzanne Collins for what she has given me and would never in my life steal from her.

The Peacekeepers lead me to the train where I am immediately pulled into an Effie-hug. "Oh, Phoenix! Please forgive me, I just reached in and grabbed a name, there were thousands! I never dreamed…I mean, the horrid thought had crossed my mind, but I never wanted…"

"Effie," I slip out of her stranglehold, "it's not your fault."

"Luck of the damn draw," a voice says from behind me.

I turn and let out a relieved sigh. "Haymitch," I whisper and rush to him. He pulls me into his arms and holds me.

"I'd appreciate it if you'd keep your personal feelings private so I can at least pretend her life isn't a priority over mine," Charlton says in a sour tone, sitting grimly in a corner.

"He's right," I say and separate myself from Haymitch.

"It's not even fair," Char grumbles again. "Coin knows about Haymitch's ties to your family. Why didn't she make him leave with your parents?"

Haymitch walks over to where Char sits and gives him a grave look. "Listen, boy, Coin doesn't care about you or Phoenix and you may as well get that into your head right now. These Games are purely about revenge on the mockingjay, on Phoenix's mother. The better the odds of Phoenix winning are, the more painful it will be to her parents if she doesn't. So accept this right here and now, Coin wants Phoenix killed and she's going to do whatever she can to make that happen, no matter who gets in the way." Charlton opens his mouth to say something but Haymitch stops him. "And before you get any ideas, smartass, I give you my word I'll help you with anything you need to the best of my ability, but I'm going to do whatever I can to keep Phoenix alive, no matter who gets in the way. Understand?"

"Fine." Char looks at me. "Stay away from me and I'll stay away from you."

"Fine by me," I say and then storm off into my sleeping compartment. My reflection in the mirror shocks me and I can only hope the cameras were kinder. I peel off my reaping dress and comb my hair out of its braid, then change into the provided silk pajamas and sit on my bed. I feel like a child and I hate it.

Haymitch knocks on my door. "Are you decent?"

"Yes."

He walks in and sits next to me. "Are you hungry?"

"No."

"I know it won't be easy, but you need to find your appetite. I'm not sending you into the area underweight."

"Okay."

He sighs. "Don't shut me out, okay? I can't help you if I can't reach you."

I look up at his old and tired eyes. "I won't, I promise. Just give me this night. I'll be ready by morning."

Haymitch nods and gives my hand a quick squeeze, then leaves the room but not before I ask "Haymitch?"

He pokes his head in. "What?"

"Don't go to your bottle. Please?"

I expect a look of hurt, but, instead, he smirks. "Can I tell you a secret?"

"Sure."

"Contrary to popular belief, I haven't touched the hard stuff since the first reaping you were entered in."

Finally, I smile. "Thank you."

"Your family is my family, sweetheart," he winks and leaves.

I feel slightly better knowing a clean Haymitch will do whatever it takes to keep me alive, Charlton will stay far away from me, and Effie's willing to become my personal slave if that's what it takes for my family to forgive her. I'm being unfair. I do like Effie, she's not as ignorant as she had been under Snow's Capitol (according to Mother), but she can be very emotional.

I decide to watch the reaping recaps on the compartment's TV. A lime green-haired Caesar Flickerman smiles at the camera, looking just as young as he did in the recaps of my parents' Hunger Games, though he had to be over seventy by now. "Good evening, Panem and Happy Hunger Games!" he says with so much youth, so much life still in his voice, but there's something else. There's a sense of fatigue that seeps through when he says, "Welcome to our first broadcast of the Eighty-Second Annual Hunger Games!" The Capitol crowd, though not filled with sadistic enthusiasm, reacts well enough for Caesar to continue (and keep his job under Coin).

Then the recaps begin, starting with, as always, District 1. A twelve year old girl with sleek, jet-black hair is chosen and, after her, a built fifteen year old boy. Despite her young age, she wears a smug, confident smile matched by her fellow tribute. Mother once said the tributes from Districts 1 and 2 were called Careers because they usually train for the Games and volunteer, but those days are long gone. They're still trained by their parents, who are typically past victors, but no one wants to volunteer anymore. No one wants the Hunger Games anymore.

Then the cameras switch to District 2 where, for the first time in years, a brother and sister are reaped into the same Games. The cameras don't show their parents' faces, but, from the fear my own parents have of both Cole and I being reaped, I can only imagine the horror. The siblings shake each others' hands solemnly and part ways.

Finally District 12 appears and I shut my eyes when my name is called. I do not want to see my face on screen. I don't need to watch it, I lived it. Then Caesar says, "My word, Plutarch, is that who I think it is?"

"It is indeed, Caesar," Plutarch Heavensbee, successor to Claudius Templesmith, says. "Phoenix Mellark, age seventeen, daughter of the Hunger Games own star-crossed lovers: Peeta Mellark and Katniss Everdeen, or Katniss Mellark, really."

"Phoenix, you say? How suiting for the child of the girl on fire!" Caesar claps his hands together with pure delight. "Should we be expecting great things from District Twelve's firebird?"

"No," I mumble.

"I would say so, Caesar. With both of her parents being victors, I don't see how young Phoenix could possibly lose. However, just as a disclaimer before you start placing your bets, we would like to make it clear that President Coin and the Gamemakers have decided Mr. and Mrs. Mellark will not be mentoring for District Twelve, but have been transferred to District Thirteen who have been without a mentor since the Games started back up."

Caesar nods. "That's nice of them. That's fair. Should make the Games more interesting this year, I suspect." They go on to give a brief description of Charlton, and then the focus switches to the reaping at Disctrict 13. First a lovely ginger-haired girl is called up. Eighteen years old by the name of Isabella, but hers isn't the name that stops my heart.

"Rye Aurelius."