A/N: Four day weekend! Thank you Veteran's day and all the amazing men and women who sacrifice their lives to protect us. This is probably my last update until December. The quarter is ending soon and I have to get my butt in gear if I want to keep my GPA up and my scholarship. This AU isn't ending any time soon. Happy or sad about it? Enjoy and review!

If Only: Collection #6

#21 New

"Wake up, Haymitch." A soft hand touched his, triggering a violent reaction. He was quick; the year out of the Arena hasn't dulled it by much. His hand pulled out his pocket knife, snapped it open and held it steadily to the female's neck. Haymitch wasn't in his plushy Capitol room, slump in the armchair from hours of searching his brain for an answer. His dark eyes were foggy. He was lost in his nightmare of his Arena. Wide blue eyes stared at him as a slender face looked down at his tense form. Light blonde tresses cupped her innocent face. "It's time to get up." She said in her sweet voice.

"Marigold…" He muttered, not believing his eyes as he pulled away.

"What are you talking about, Haymitch?" Marigold's voice turned sharp as she shoved the knife away. Her appearance shifted from a pale blonde girl into a redhead with cat-like eyes. "And how did you sneak this in?" She demanded pulling the knife from his fingers before snapping it shut. Haymitch ignored her question, running his hand over his face as he rubbed the sleepiness away. She looked composed in her suit as she held a tablet, tapping the screen rapidly. Haymitch peeked at the wall clock, cursing as he noticed the time. "Maysilee and Ryan were just picked up a few minutes ago. You need to head to the control room soon."

"Wouldn't want to miss the blood bath," Haymitch replied sarcastically as he ran his fingers through his hair before heading into his room. Juliet followed, eyes still focused on her electronic clipboard. Her red hair was tied in a ponytail, falling over her shoulder. Her suit was black unlike her usual flamboyant colors. She looked like she was mourning. Haymitch peeled his t-shirt as he noticed her confused expression. "What's wrong?"

"I'm worried." She answered truthfully as Haymitch entered the shower, allowing the icy water to finally wake him up. She stood at the door, still looking at her clipboard as numbers jumped up and down.

"What now? We don't have any sponsors?" Haymitch asked, running his fingers over his face as the water washed over him.

"More like we have too many." Juliet muttered. Haymitch twisted his head and stared at the door separating them, not believing her word for a second. "Haymitch, what if neither of them makes it past the blood bath?" Juliet mused, tapping her chin with her index finger. "These people are throwing their money into an investment they have no idea if it would pan out. It's just plain stupidity – HEY!" Haymitch grabbed her toy, water droplets falling over the screen. His eyes stared at the digital numbers as they slowly but surely climbing up, increasing by hundreds even thousands.

"Juliet, it's not like we're their stock broker." He bit back, shoving the tablet into her chest before drying off. With that much money… Haymitch thought as a plan slowly formed in his head. She's smart. She's smart enough to get out if she survives the blood bath. When she survives the blood bath. He corrected. She will get out. Haymitch reasoned as he shrugged on his outfit. "Let them throw their money away, especially if I get to play with it." Juliet looked torn between helping her tributes and her fellow Capitol citizens. "That money can save Ryan or Maysilee, Juliet. Save them." She nodded her head and walked off heading to her office with a promotion plan. Haymitch nodded his head; glad she was finally on board before heading to the long elevator ride down to the Pit, the nickname for the mentor control center.

"Well, hello, hello. Look who's we have here." Haymitch opened his eyes, sighing as a tall dark-skinned man in his early twenties entered the elevator. He was dressed in slacks with suspenders. His hands were tucked in his pockets as he flashed Haymitch a white smile which he didn't return. Haymitch glanced at the elevator number: 11. "I'm Chaff." He introduced, holding his right hand out. Haymitch instinctively reached out only to touch a stump where his hand should be. He reeled back, glaring at his new 'friend'. "Oops, forgot about that." Chaff replied, grinning when Haymitch scowled. "Not funny?"

"You're hilarious." He replied sarcastically as the elevator descended deep down.

"You have to have a certain sense of humor if you want to stay sane in this business. Or alcohol, lots of alcohol." Chaff advised as he pulled out an alcohol flask and shook it, flashing a steady grin. Haymitch was glad he hasn't descended that low yet, stooping down to alcohol to fight off his demons. Sophia, Luke and even Maysilee have been keeping him sane. But for how long? He wondered as he stepped out of the elevator.

The Pit is a high tech center where the mentors watch and wordlessly guide their tributes to victory. The room was lined with television, all currently blue from lack of video feed. In the center was a large hologram pad which would offer a 3-D image of the Arena. The trackers embedded in their tributes will transmit their location on the holopad. Twenty-four stations circled the holopad for each mentor. Haymitch crossed the room, ignoring the curious looks of his fellow victors and sat down. Chaff ambled after, greeting a few mentors he befriended over his short years, before sitting down, already unscrewing the top of his flask. Haymitch sat down in his chair, tapping the screens gingerly, absorbing as much information as he could in a short amount of time.

"You worried?" Chaff asked as he noticed Haymitch's rapid movements. "You got a plan, kid?" Haymitch continued ignoring Chaff's patter as he searched the screen. The station was set up like a box of three screens all transparent, still giving him a perfect view of the holopad. The left screen had the bio of each of his tributes. There are images of their face, all sober and serious. Ryan looked even older than he really is. Maysilee's eyes weren't warm but icy and detached. Beside each picture was a heart monitor, showing their vitals. The middle screen was for personal feeds of exact location where their tributes would be. The screen was black except for a clock on the top corner. Ten minutes, Haymitch read, as the seconds ticked away. The right screen was vastly different. It was like an inventory list of things. Weapons, food, medicine … anything and everything they would need to survive at the right price. In the corner of that screen, the sponsors' money counter ticked, still climbing up.

"Bingo." Haymitch muttered as he found exactly what he needed and smiled as it was in the middle of his price range. He would have to buy it on the first day and pray she was really as smart as he gave her credit for. A faceless female voice devoid of emotion bounced through the room.

"Mentors, please be seat. The tributes are entering the Arena." Everyone was already seated as the screens lit up, revealing the Arena. Haymitch leaned forward as the hologram pad glowed brightly before dimming, replicating a perfect scaled down model of the Arena. He sucked in a breath.

"Shit…" Chaff muttered from Haymitch's right as he studied the Arena and taking a swig from his flask. Haymitch suddenly wished he had a drink, feeling dread pooling at the bottom of his stomach. The camera panned out, showing an overview of the Cornucopia. It was in the center of a shallow lake, with weapons and supplies scattered in it. The Arena is a mixed between deserted ruins of a city and nature was trying to reclaim it.

Haymitch found Ryan on the south side of the Cornucopia, playing with his cord bracelet, his token as he waited for the minute to tick away. He wore all black, nearly blended into the shadow of the large horn. A small twelve was marked on the right shoulder. He had a determined expression on his face which impressed Haymitch. You can only save one. A voice reminded him and Haymitch turned away, looking for the blonde. Maysilee stood with her eyes closed, hands clenched over her pendant and lips moving rapidly like she was whispering a prayer. She looked beautiful and when Claudius's booming voice broke through the silence, her eyes slowly opened, steeling herself for the horrors she was going to face.

"Ladies and gentlemen, let the 51st Hunger Games begin!"

Interlude

Juliet Young wordlessly tapped her tablet as she fiddled around with another promotion poster from District 12 tributes. The editing team got great footage from before the games of Maysilee as she helped with the Harvest Festival. It was a good angelic shot of her helping a young girl with tying her shoelaces. Her hair was longer and she resembled her deceased sister more than now. It would tug at the compassionate side of the audience. The second photo was from the Games. Maysilee's shoulder length hair was dirty with bits of dirt and leaves clinging to her curls. Her sapphire eyes were hardened as she held a knife precariously in her hands. It was a dramatic change. Juliet hoped a few of the Capitol citizens would remember the charming girl from the interview and give generously to save her.

She flicked to another window, this poster with a darker background. It was for Ryan Road, the male tribute. It was a photo from his interview outfit. Juliet couldn't help but compare Ryan to Haymitch of last year. They both shared the same brooding look, like the world was constantly against them. He had the typical dark eyes of the Seam and black hair. Ryan looked decent even good with his hands tucked in his black slacks and hair combed neatly. His eyes possessed a calculating glint and a certain coldness that a few dangerous Careers seemed to own, a sharp 'killer' edge that sponsors aiming to win search for. Ryan held a crazy detachment which was completely opposite of Maysilee's natural ability to connect to the crowd.

"Hello Ms. Young." Juliet forced herself not to shiver and slowly looked up, pulling off an emotionless smile. A man in his early fifties descended down the steps of the Game Center, tracking her with snake-like eyes. His white hair and prim-pressed black suit embodied a menacing feel. He wore a white rose on his lapel. She barely flinched at the faint scent of blood. "It's the fourth day. How many of your tributes are still alive?" Juliet waited until he was beside her before continuing her walk to her office in the publicity center with President Snow beside her.

"Surprisingly two." She replied, tapping away on her tablet to a live feed of the games. In the corner was a list of the remaining tributes. Fourteen were still alive, navigating through the city-forest hybrid Arena. The list was ranked by favorites. On top of the list was a tie between District 2 Alexander and District 4 Marco. A close third was Maysilee despite her low kill rate. Ryan wasn't far behind, slowly climbing up the list in both popularity and kills. "We have a pair of fighters this year."

"Oh yes, a crowd favorite." Snow commented as Maysilee appeared on screen creeping forward, holding her knife out as she approached an injured Career. The two traded a few words before she convinced the boy to throw his spear to the side. Maysilee approached after leaving her knife behind and gingerly touched the boy's wound. Juliet bit her lip, praying the girl wasn't making a mistake helping the District 4 boy. "And a dark horse." The feed switched to Ryan who was following the Career pack, twirling his knife expertly in his fingers. His hard gray eyes narrowed like he could sense the camera focused on his face. The District 2 male shouted at Ryan who schooled his expression into a quiet follower, not the manipulator of the whole group. "I wonder which one Haymitch is going to save."

Is that a rhetorical question? Juliet thought as she opened her personal office and set her tablet into its dock. Snow followed, sitting down one of her comfortable chairs as the television automatically turned on. "I'm sorry his girl didn't go in." Juliet apologized, remembering what her higher-up told her on Reaping day, 'Whatever name you pull, you will call Sophia Rains.' Juliet sighed as she watched the two Capitol experts debating about the tribute's actions. "We didn't count for Ms. Donner to volunteer. Should we 'take care' of Sophia Rains? Keep Haymitch in his place?" Snow pondered as an image of Maysilee flashed across the screen, her fingers wrapping straps of ripped t-shirt over the wound of the young male.

"I don't think that will be necessary. Haymitch is rather fond of this girl, isn't he?" Snow stated as he recalled another blonde with the same face but different eyes, softer weaker eyes. Juliet nodded her head, sending off the final copy of the posters to her publicity team. "She's the deceased girl's sister, right?"

"Marigold Donner of the 50th Games." Juliet informed, pushing a few files across her cluttered desk, searching for another sponsor to contact.

"Ah, I remember her. Many men requested her if she won the game last year. She was … delicious." Juliet cringed at the lecherous tone Snow's voice dipped into. "Such a shame." Juliet looked up, staring straight into Snow's snake eyes. Dread pooled at the bottom of her stomach. She knew exactly what he was planning. "We could kill two birds with one stone with this girl." Juliet nodded her head, slowly hating herself for working for this man. "Let's hope she wins." Snow said before standing up and leaving the room. Juliet slumped down in her chair, pressing her palms against her eyes. For one moment, Juliet hoped Maysilee wouldn't win. Her fate outside the Arena may be worse than death.

#22 Beggar

Maysilee sighed as she leaned her weary body against the trunk of the tree. The building she was occupying seconds ago was burning brightly. She was lucky to escape the inferno by only a few seconds. The ends of her short blonde hair were singed from the intense heat. Her sturdy jacket protected her arms and chest from major burns. She took steady breathes, filling her lungs with fresh air as she tried to process what happened in the last few minutes. "Thank god, I'm a light sleeper." Maysilee murmured as she placed her hand over her chest, trying to will the organ to calm down. Just seconds ago, she was asleep, exhausted from constantly moving through the ruins of the city. Only a soft series of beeps, signaling the trap was tripped, woke her up and she escaped. Massaging her sore neck, Maysilee pushed herself up and forced her body to put some distance between her and the burning rubble.

She followed the river upstream, away from the golden Cornucopia and the Career camp. Her pack was tiny, a fanny pack with a few essentials. She was only able to grab a few things during the blood bath before running into the city ruins. Her bright orange fanny pack was a huge contrast against her black jacket. It rested against the small of her back, resting easily on her hips. Her only weapon, a sharp serrated knife was strapped to her upper thigh. She was forced to cut her pants into shorts from an earlier unpleasant encounter. Inside her pack were a few sturdy pieces of twine, iodine to purify water and a bottle. Finding food was painfully easy; hidden in the depths of the ruins were cabinet of canned food, obviously booby trapped. Maysilee was able to by-pass a few traps, earning her a package of dry meat, a few canned goods and fruit before she had to run. Maysilee ran her right hand over her left arm, still feeling the sting from two days ago. Whatever was in that dart hasn't affected her yet. Maysilee pushed the memory away, reaching into her inner pocket at the vial a silver parachute delivered to her.

What is it, Haymitch? She wondered, taking out the clear but well-built bottle to observe its content. It was an elongated container of clear unidentifiable liquid, almost like water. The liquid had a sweet smell and Maysilee quickly jammed the top back on, recognizing the scent from the Training Center. Whatever it was, Maysilee knew it wasn't for her. You'll know what to do with it. The note that was sent with the bottle read. She remembered moments when she would read the words over and over again, trying to tease out the meaning. What will I know? She questioned, looking at the sky and glaring hoping Haymitch saw her frustrated expression. What are you trying to tell me, Haymitch?

Sighing, she slipped the bottle into her concealed pocket before heading to the water's edge, glancing around with her knife held tightly in her hands. She silently filled her water bottle, keeping her ears open for any sudden movements. It was muggy today in the Arena. Maysilee was tempted to chop the rest of her hair off. It was at an awkward length where because of the intense heat, the strands clung to the nape of her neck. She absentmindedly reached into her pocket, pulling out a strip of fabric she twisted into a hair tie. The white fabric looked tiny in her hand and the crimson blotch of blood stood out like a beacon. Maysilee stared at the small fleck as it dragged a memory from the dark recess of her mind.

"Please…" The girl with big brown eyes and plain brown hair gasped as she took a ragged breath. "Make it stop…" Maysilee stood there frozen as the tiny girl, barely twelve reached out towards her, pushing a knife towards her. Her dark eyes were begging for an end, to end it all. Maysilee touched the rough hilt of the knife, hearing her own heartbeat in her ears. Thump. Thump. Thump. "Please… end it." She nodded her head, shuffling closer and lifted the knife, to finish the deed.

Maysilee gasped at the memory, pressing her head against her knees, dry-heaving as she tried to suck in much needed air. She felt dizzy and as she stared at her hands, she could only see red, scarlet blotches against her pale skin. Get your head together May. You're going to get yourself killed. She lectured herself, forcing her eyes open. A masculine groan, almost inaudible, sounded from her left. Maysilee moved without thinking, jumping to the nearest tree. Her knife was clenched in her fingers as she searched the area. Another moan broke through the silence. "Oh fuck…" a young man growled as Maysilee peeked behind from her tree.

"You know, if you keep groaning like that, someone might actually come put you out of your misery." Maysilee said, forcing her voice to come out as indifferent as she took in the horrible sight in front of her. It was one of the Career tributes, lying there with a gaping abdomen wound. She forced herself not to rush over at the sight of the grave wound. A spear sat beside the young man, threatening. The boy opened his eyes at the sound of her voice; deep sea-green orbs stared at her. He didn't immediately reach for his spear, contemplating what her next move could be. Maysilee wondered the same thing as words started tumbling from her mouth. "You really think if I was going to kill you, I would actually talk to you?" She asked, taking a step back and leaning against the tree.

"There are some sick bastards in these games, this year." He said in response, reaching for the spear. Maysilee tensed but didn't bolt, keeping her sapphire eyes focused on the young man's green ones. "Kinda of messed up if the angel of District 12 was one of them." He coughed.

"Good to know you still have a sense of humor." Maysilee replied back. "How bad is the wound?"

"From a scale of 1 to 10? I saw 7 slowly heading towards a 8." He said. Amber tresses fell over his forehead as he looked up. "Are you here to kill me?" He asked before sucking in a sharp breath and moaning. "Now it's a 8. Shit."

"What's your name?" Maysilee asked, wondering what possessed her to help this annoying District 4 boy.

"Marco, angel." He replied after a few tense seconds. Maysilee looked up, thinking of another boy back home, knowing she had to help this boy.

"I'm not an angel." Maysilee corrected as she stepped out in the open and took a chance. She could almost hear Haymitch's voice cursing her for being stupid. Marco's deep eyes were focused on her as she dropped her knife and held her hands out, showing she had nothing else, leaving her life in the balance. "It's Maysilee." Marco reached for his spear and Maysilee cringed, bracing herself for the pain.

"I know who you are." He said as the spear fell to the ground, beside her. Maysilee opened her eyes as Marco smiled at her, making little dimples appear on the edge of his mouth. It drew attention to his sun-kissed skin, handsome face and kissable lips. "It's hard not to know who you are." Maysilee rushed over, dropping down beside him and placing her head against the gaping wound, closing the gap. "So what's the plan, Doc?"

She ignored him, moving through the motions and recalling what Ivy and her father did to such grave injuries. He needed stitches but the likelihood of finding a sewing kit was slim. "I hope you don't mind being shirtless for a while." She muttered as she ripped the remains of his white shirt before pouring the rest of her water to clean the wound.

"I don't think anyone would mind." He kidded, digging his nails into Maysilee's shoulder as she moved him into an upright position. She mindlessly ran her fingers over his skin, ignoring the chisel chest and well-defined arms as she tried to locate any other major injuries. She reached into her pack and she could feel Marco tense.

"Relax, I didn't undress you just to stab you." She replied, pulling out a few leaves before shoving them into her mouth, chewing them into a fine paste. "These leaves have healing properties only when they're mashed together." She explained, spreading them over his wound. Marco cringed. "Sorry, they also hurt."

"No, really?" He muttered, matching her gaze. A few strands of Maysilee's blonde hair fell into her face as she started ripping strips of his shirt into makeshift bandages. She moved closer, focused on wrapping the wound. His breath fanned her face and Maysilee forced her blush down at their close proximity. "I wouldn't mind dying like this…" he flirted, running his fingers down her arm in a soothing manner.

"If you can flirt, you're not going to die." Maysilee said as she sat back, forcing a bit of distance between them. She shoved her things back into her pack, moving to stand up. "May the odds be in your favor." She muttered about to move away when Marco's large hand clasped around her arm. "Are you going to kill me? Ironic huh?"

"Aren't you morbid?" He whispered back, regaining his strength. "There are fourteen of us left, a blood seeking Career pack hunting both of our asses and you just want to leave?" Maysilee regarded him with weary eyes and he sighed. "I don't know how things work in your district but we don't randomly save people and just walk off in 4. I owe you and since we're in this fucking place, the only way I can repay you is to keep you safe for a bit at least. Allies?" Maysilee bit her lip, wondering what he was playing. Marco's emerald eyes were clear and bright, with no trace of deceit. His lips curled up in a smirk. "Do you regret saving me now?"

"Yeah, you're really annoying." She kidded, standing up and holding her hand out. "Just keep that pretty mouth shut. I would like to be alive for a little longer." Marco smiled back, grabbing her hand. Maysilee's eyes slid shut, savoring the brief human contact.

"Deal, sweetheart."