AN: Okay, so answer honestly. How many times did you watch The Hunger Games the weekend the DVD/Blu-ray was released? I definitely watched it 4 times in 2 days. Can you blame me? Anyway, my Hunger Games hype is nearly over and my new classes are taking their toll, but I'll keep updating when I can. Thanks again for all your loverly reviews. (I really would love to publish this somehow as a sequel, it's just… it's not exactly a sequel now, is it? Thanks though!)

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 doors of the Training Center close behind us and Jameson quickly douses my flames. "That was spectacular," he stresses every syllable.

"Thank you," I reply breathlessly.

Char lowers me to my feet and, surprisingly, holds me steady until I gain my balance. "Alright?" he asks with a tightened jaw. I realize that somewhere under that black layer of dust and behind the muscles, there's a hint at a heart in him. I nod and he lets go of me, then we both jump off the chariot and it rides away.

Haymitch walks up to us with his signature smirk. "Fantastic," he applauds. "That startled them for sure."

"Startled? That pissed Coin off," I whisper. "Did you see the way she looked at us?" I lower my voice even more so that Char can't hear me. "At me?"

"Phoenix!" someone shouts my name, and I recognize her voice all too well.

"Mother?!"

I search the crowds of tributes and stylists and mentors in the direction of her voice. Then my eyes find hers and we run for each other. My mother catches me in her arms and holds me tightly, then Papa's strong arms wrap around the both of us. Mother is crying. Papa kisses the top of my head. In reality, we'd only said goodbye to each other yesterday, but fear slows time considerably and last night alone felt like an eternity.

"You looked so beautiful," Mother pulls away from our embrace to look at me.

"Put your first entrance to shame," Haymitch jokes and Mother goes to embrace him to.

Papa holds my hand. "You alright, sweetheart?" he asks me.

"Yes," I force that same fake smile I used on the Capitol and it fools Papa just like it did them. Secretly, I'm still shook up by Coin's eyes on me, but only Haymitch can know that.

Jameson shakes my parents' hands. "It's truly an honor to meet the two of you. My name is Jameson, I'm Phoenix's stylist."

My mother smiles. "So you're the one who redesigned Cinna's wedding dress."

"I made a few changes here and there," Jameson chuckles. "I could never truly invent the styles and dreams Cinna was able to, I can only take ideas from what I already know. Cinna was, indeed, an artist in a million."

This makes mother like him. She'll like anyone who appreciates her ever-loyal confident in the Hunger Games. "Well I congratulate you. That dress looks a thousand times better on my daughter than it did on me."

"Now that's not true," Effie suddenly chimes in. "Oh!" her voice cracks like she's on the verge of tears. "You both looked so beautiful." Haymitch pats her shoulder like she's a pitiful creature.

District 13's stylists and tributes make their way over to our crowd since we're all sharing the same penthouse. Isabella is already shaking all the knots out of her hair while Rye keeps his eyes to the ground. There's a strange sort of tension in our small camaraderie. The only people who aren't aware of mine and Rye's past relationship are 13's stylists, escort, Isabella, and our stylists to an extent.

Isabella breaks the awkward silence. "Can we go up now? Frankly, I'm exhausted."

"Yes," Effie claps her hands together, relentlessly trying to keep up the morale. "Shall we?"

We all migrate to the elevators. It's decided we'll go up on district at a time to avoid more awkward confrontation, not that it helps much because everyone is reunited in our penthouse. What was a short minute compared to the next several days?

When we get inside our penthouse, we are suddenly hit by freezing cold air. I wish I had my flames back.

"Now who turned off that heater?" Lola, District 13's escort, huffs. She and Effie quickly run off to scold our Avoxes for their carelessness. My mother and Jameson are continuing their conversation on Cinna. Calpurnia heads off to bed with 13's stylists and our prep teams. Papa begins talking to Haymitch and all the tributes are left standing in a square silently.

Once again, however, Isabella breaks the ice. "That was quite an entrance," she says to Char, not acknowledging me. Her green eyes scan Char's body greedily. He grunts a thanks then retreats to shower off his coal dust and get some rest. I find myself angry at him for leaving me alone with Isabella and Rye, who still won't look at me.

Isabella swishes her hair behind her shoulder. "Must be nice," she says to me, "having your parents here to take care of you."

I narrow my eyes. Two can play at this game. "Yes, I suppose you're right," I chuckle back. "If any tribute comes after me, they send one of the many bombs they've already purchased down in a seemingly harmless silver parachute."

She glares at me. "They can't do that. They're mentors. It's against the rules."

Rye finally speaks. "They're her parents, Isabella. I doubt they'll be afraid to break the rules if it's to save their daughter's life."

It's my first time hearing his voice since he was thirteen and it makes my heart pound a few beats faster. His voice is deeper, more mature, but still warm and inviting. I wish we were back in our meadow, singing "The Hanging Tree" together, except now our voices wouldn't match pitch. His would be lower. We could harmonize if we wanted to.

"Well," Isabella snaps me back to attention, "let's just hope they don't make things worse for you or themselves. Come on, Rye. I'm tired."

"And?" Rye looks up at her, shrugging. "You don't need me to tuck you in, do you?"

"No, but I'd like you to," she winks. I think I'm going to be sick.

Rye rolls his eyes. "Goodnight, Isabella."

She pouts, "Fine then. Sweet dreams." then looks me over one last time, "You too, honey."

"Sorry," Rye says as soon as Isabella's left. "She's…" he shakes his head.

"She's something else," I finish for him.

"Yeah," he snorts and runs his fingers through his still semi-glowing hair. "Yeah, basically." Then he finally looks up at me and I see straight into his brown eyes. "How are you doing?"

Confidence. Confidence. "I'm great," I say, shrugging it all off like we're just going to be playing a harmless game of tag. "I mean, as great as it gets."

He gives me a skeptical look. "Okay." Another pause. "Well, you look…" he holds his hand out, indicating my ensemble.

I raise an eyebrow, "Great?"

He chuckles. "That works."

"Everyone else thinks I look beautiful." I place my hands on my hips flirtatiously.

"Well," Rye's face goes emotionless again, "yeah."

This takes me back. Should I continue the charade while I'm in my penthouse? Around Rye? My parents? I guess that's a con to sharing a floor with another district. I have to always be on my guard. Always act like someone else.

Luckily, Effie steps in with two glasses of wine. "Here we are. I would like to propose a toast," she announces to everyone still left in the room. Effie hands Rye and me our glasses then takes her own and raises it. "To this lovely reunion of family and family friends."

Everyone is silent, perhaps shocked by Effie's ignorance or touched by her remembrance. It is a bittersweet moment. Papa looks down into his drink and murmurs, "If only reunited in a different place, at a better time." Mother leans her head on his shoulder comfortingly.

I feel like all the air has been sucked out of the room. With the exception of Lola and Jameson, it may as well be my twelfth birthday again (note that Effie came too, but left before dinner). Everyone sips their wine solemnly, but I can't stomach it.

Rye watches me carefully. "Phoenix?" he whispers soft enough for only me to hear.

"I'm fine," I force a smile. Confidence. Rye gives me that skeptical look again. "Really," I reiterate.

"Go to bed, Phoenix." He takes my untouched glass. "Now, while they're not paying attention to you sneaking out."

I nod, backing away from the "reunion of family and family friends," and locate my bedroom. With two districts sharing one floor, I wonder how everyone is going to fit. I suppose Effie and Lola will share a room. The stylists and prep teams have their own quarters elsewhere in the Training Center. My parents will share a room, obviously, and Haymitch would be perfectly content with sleeping on the sofa. Coin didn't renovate much of the Training Center, it's true, but she did have the foresight to give each tribute his or her own bedroom. Most likely to avoid conflict or, worse, friendships, which is all perfectly fine with me. I couldn't imagine having to share a room with Char, or, worse, Isabella – which is to assume we'd either be sharing by district or gender.

Nevertheless, I am by myself. I kick off my opening ceremony dress and pluck the feathers out of my ponytail. An Avox girl is close behind me, picking up everything I drop onto the floor. A twinge of guilt hits me and I bend down to help pick up the feathers. She shakes her head fervently, begging me not to help. I stand and she continues to help me undress. She even takes a comb through my straight, red and gold highlighted hair. It falls out of its ponytail and down my back. Next the Avox starts up the shower and leads me inside.

The moment I step in, I jump back out. The water is ice cold, just like the penthouse when we first entered. The Avox insists I step inside but I shout at her. "It's freezing!" Her eyes lower to the ground and she adjusts the temperature, embarrassed. Within seconds, the water is a comfortable warm. I thank her, assured it wasn't her fault, and she leaves with a heavy, disappointed sigh.

The water runs down my face, sending red and black tinted water down the drain. I kiss the back of my hand, leaving a blood red imprint of my lips, and then quickly rub it off. The highlights of gold wash out of my hair, but the red stays. I guess Jameson wants the audience to always be able to identify me as me, and not as my mother.

Eventually, I feel clean enough to go to bed. As soon as I leave my steamy bathroom, however, annoyingly enough, the air in my bedroom is freezing. I wrap my wet hair and ears in my towel, then bury myself under the covers of my bed. Either Coin hates me so much, she assigned the most sadistic of Avoxes to my penthouse, or someone was trying to tell me something.