AN: I felt overdue for a chapter, so I just kind of threw this together in my astronomy class tonight. Sorry it's been so long. Recently cast in my school's fall musical, celebrated my 18th birthday. Yeah. Eventful. Anyway, like I said, I threw this together. It's just to hold you over until we get to the training – which I'm working on. It doesn't do much for the overall plot except work on Phoenix's relationship with Rye and make her realize a few new things. Oh, and the medicine's important. You'll see. Hope you enjoy it just the same.

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.

Effie isn't the one to wake me up the next morning, it's Mother. She's sitting on the edge of my bed, holding my hand. "Phoenix?" she nudges me.

I turn over in my bed. My head aches with pressure, I can't breathe through my nose. Fantastic. Mother presses her hand to my cheek. "Why are you so cold?" she worries.

Carefully, I sit up and politely push my mother's hand away. "It's just a cold," I mutter. "Going to bed in a cold room with wet hair does that to you."

Mother stands up, highly irritated. "Why is your room so cold? This isn't right!" She exits the room and I hear her start to complain to Papa and Haymitch. "Katniss, calm down…" "Peeta! She's got to fend for her life in the next few days. She doesn't need to be getting sick right now!" "It's just a cold, sweetheart." "It's just a sneeze that'll give her away when she's hiding!" "We'll get her medicine." "She'll be better in no time." "You're overreacting." "Coin's doing this, isn't she?"

Rye walks by my room and looks at me through the doorway. "Room too cold?"

"Word travels fast when my mother's upset, I see," I say sarcastically. "Amazing she doesn't blame my own stupidity for sleeping with wet hair."

"Wait for it," Rye leans against the doorframe, grinning. Sure enough, we hear: "… and why is she sleeping with wet hair, anyway? She knows better." He and I laugh together and, for those few seconds, we're transported back in time, teasing my mother's crazy antics and laughing like our parents were our only real enemy.

"Well," I sniffled, "I guess I'd blame Coin before my own daughter's immune system, too."

Rye rolls his eyes. "You always get sick."

"Only when it's cold," I explain. A new expression washes over his face and he looks at me, worried. "What is it?" I feel self-conscious all of a sudden, pulling my blanket over my shoulders.

Rye walks over and sits on the edge of my bed. "Nothing," he frowns, looking down at his fingers. "Just… what if Coin is sabotaging your room? What if she does want you sick?"

"I really wouldn't doubt it," I cough. "But I'll get better." I reassure him with a smile.

"Oh, I know," Rye nods. "They've got advanced medicine here, you'll be in full health by lunchtime, but…"

"But?"

"You're the biggest target in these games, Phoenix. You know that, right?" he lowers his voice. "So much so that Coin herself is already trying to kill you. All I'm saying is be careful."

Papa walks in at that moment with a glass of orange juice and two white pills. "Take these for the next few days," he instructs me. "They'll prevent you from getting more colds. And we'll find you a new bedroom, somehow. Maybe you can share with Isabella…"

"No," I plead, almost choking on the juice. The pills do have an instant effect on me, however, and my nose clears up. "I can't share a room with her." I stress, not even caring that Rye was listening too.

"Why?" Papa asks. "You'll need allies…"

"I don't want her as my ally."

Rye seems to understand. "She can switch bedrooms with me, Mr. Mellark." This does make me choke on the rest of my orange juice.

Papa gives me a concerned look after I recover. "Thank you, Rye," he replies. "Alright with you, Phoenix?"

"No," I frown. "Rye, don't give up your comfort for me. It's…"

"Shut up, Phoenix," he glares at me.

This sets me back. Even Papa is shocked. Rye looks from my father to me and shrugs. "Well, someone had to say it." he explains.

"What's that suppose to mean?" I finally jump out of bed and stand over him.

"It means you're too good for these Games!" Rye shouts back, standing up to tower over me. "I knew that confidence you had last night was just an act. You're still the same, stubborn-with-your-feelings Phoenix I knew five years ago. Stop. Trying. To make it all. Fair. It isn't fair. It won't be fair. Stop thinking of others. Think of yourself. That's how you win these Games." Then he pushes me aside and runs out of the room.

I look down at my father, realizing the gist of what my friend just said. I am my father's daughter and it will be the death of me if I don't stop it. "Is he right?" I ask, bracing myself for the answer I don't want to hear but have to.

Papa shrugs. "Yes and no. That is how to win the Games but," now he smirks, "that's not how I won it."

I sit beside him. "Because you didn't think of yourself," I answer for him. "You thought of Mother."

"And would have died because of it. You know, if it weren't for the rule change."

"So what should I do?"

He rubs his temples, as if he has a headache coming on. I sense the demons are threatening to plague him again, but Papa is strong. He holds them off. "Ultimately," he responds, "it's all up to you. It all depends on who you want to prove right or wrong. Your mother is against me telling you this, but I believe the right thing to do is to show them they don't own you. Play the Games by your own standards. Just…" he sighs and pulls me into his strong, baker's arms, "stay alive."