John awoke on the inevitable day. The reaping. He started his typical routine with military precision, trying to pretend that everything was normal. It was beautiful out. The sun filtered through his makeshift curtains of patchwork cloth. It made his skin look patchy with different colors. He slipped into his dress shoes and began to dress himself. His dirty blonde hair was teased until it looked presentable and less wild. John Watson's "reaping day" clothes consisted of a white button down shirt and fitted black pants. It was standard but extremely clean. His other clothes were covered in earth and twigs from his forest getaways. After a couple of deep breaths he limped down the stairs and acknowledged his grim family. Harry suddenly scoffed.

"What?" John said defensively

"John, you look way too fancy!"

"Well duh…"

"I don't know it's bothering me!" She snapped, overly surly.

"Well at least you get the day off dear sister." John grinned at her and Harriet cracked a smile in spite of herself.

"Ruffle your hair, hedgehog. You'll look more manly." Harry leapt forward and forced John into a headlock while she messed up John's styled hair.

"Harry, what the hell!?" He screeched as she laughed heartily.

John wrestled against her for over a minute when John's father forced them apart.

"Can you be serious?" He snapped at her.

"Oh come on, John's not going to be picked. There are over a hundred kids older and younger with all their tessarae. He might as well look like a slob. It's the only rebellion we have left."

Mrs. Watson gave her signature dangerous look over her tea mug

"Harriet keep your mouth shut today! Representatives can put a bad word in for you-"

Harry rolled her eyes and moaned "Ugh…Mum…"

John deafened himself to their bickering. It was all part of a normal morning. John couldn't sleep in even if he tried. He didn't know what he could do to kill time until two. He couldn't venture out into the woods for fear of ruining his clothes and he didn't feel like dressing himself later. It would be easier for him mentally to just walk out the door. John knew deep down Harry had said those things to comfort him. But as her rightful sibling John could see how worried she was.

He was suddenly brought back in a memory when it was John's first reaping as a young twelve year old. The experience had been so horrifying that Harry didn't seem to want to let him go afterwards. Neither of them had been picked but John sobbed bitterly into Harry's dress. She had comforted him with snarky words but when John met her eyes he could see fear practically radiating off her.

The hours slipped by sluggishly. John tried desperately not to pace but he found himself limping around the living room until Harry took his cane away. When the time neared, John stood up and tried to flatten his hair unsuccessfully. Harry messed with his hair again and John smiled at her instead of berating her. Together they walked towards the Justice Hall. Mary also joined up with John as quickly and silently as she could. They said their hellos nervously. The trail to the Justice hall was made up of cobbled stone. John was careful to place his cane correctly on the path so he wouldn't fall. He took in his surroundings. The citizens of district seven were all headed in the same direction but there was no conversation or hearty babbling. The only sound that was heard was infinite amounts of feet on stone.

John felt himself begin to perspire. The stage brought in for the reaping stood in front of the Justice Building and John was separated from his family and Mary to be sorted. Harriet squeezed John's hand and gave him a winning smile before she made her way to the roped off section for adults. John could not help but to smile back. John got his blood taken and entered the roped off area for the boys. He saw the two large bowls stuffed with slips of paper and suddenly the district escort Rona Masters took the stage. John rolled his eyes as Rona greeted the stony-faced district by blowing kisses. John looked over his shoulder and spotted Harriet who mimed throwing up on the floor. John snorted and returned his attention to Rona.

"Welcome! Welcome! Oh but you don't need welcoming to your own district. No, I say welcome to the reaping of the 33rd annual Hunger Games! May the odds be ever in your favor, my dear district duckies!"

There was only one way to describe Rona Masters. Flamboyant. He was exceedingly obnoxious and loud. John grudgingly admitted that he had a sense of humor but he enjoyed the Games far too much for John to ever like him. Rona had such dark skin that his hazel eyes were incredibly striking. John figured that they had been altered due to a capitol fashion. His short and downy hair was a shocking purple and was shaved into complex patterns so some of his scalp was showing. Rona wore a waistcoat suit that was the same neon purple as his hair. The collar stuck up around his neck with gold lines etched into the fabric. His eyes were painted with different shades of purple and black. It reminded John of a strange tropical bird with eccentric plumage.

"As always, Ladies first!" Rona trilled snatching a slip of paper from the circular bowl and unfolding it swiftly.

The whole area of roped off girls tensed. John found that his palms were sweaty and wished that the boys names were called first sometimes. Just to get the damn reaping over with. Rona particularly loved suspense when calling out the names. If he could get any more corny and pathetic he began to trill a little makeshift drum roll with his lips. John looked over his shoulder and found with disgust that people were still muttering over their bets.

"Sarah Sawyer!"

John let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. Mary was safe this year. John let the relief properly wash over him, knowing that they were one name away from escaping to the dam together again. He found the chestnut haired girl almost immediately. Sobbing friends on either side of Sarah gasped as she blanched and stared at the cobbled ground. John tore his eyes away from Sarah and looked at the Justice Building spire for an easy distraction. He blinked several times and tried to settle his nerves. Here it comes. There could still be hope. He might not get chosen. John told himself over and over again in his head.

Don't let it be me….Don't let it be me….

"And now for the gentlemen!" Rona practically pranced to the opposite bowl. John could have punched him for enjoying something so horrible.

John began to truly panic when Rona reached for the slip of paper in the bowl. He tried to breathe normally but for some reason the burning sensation in his trapped lungs kept him from practically fainting. Part of him was hopeful enough that he could escape for two more years. John visualized what his life could be like. He could start as a full time lumberjack and provide for his family. John kept that image of a happy healthy man fresh in his mind as Rona unfolded the slip of paper with itching slowness. The hope of a better life overtook him and for a fraction of a second John actually smiled. Then Rona took a deep breath before shouting into the microphone…

"John Watson!"

John couldn't help the shock go through him. He prepared himself for the worst and yet he was still shocked. He hated himself for letting horror seep into his features, even if it was for a second. He clenched his jaw and fists knowing that the cameras were on him. He knew in his heart it didn't matter if he looked "hardy", his limp was a sure sign that he was a weakling. A target. Despite this, John lifted his chin and took a deep breath that shuddered despite his control. Rona observed him expectantly with the slip of paper still clutched between his long dark fingers. Every resident of district seven had their eyes on him now. They all turned to look at him simultaneously and the effect was so eerie that John flinched. Some of the faces held pity and others were relieved. Some held no emotion at all. John placed one foot forward and he made absolute sure it was his good foot. The other teens in his section cleared the way so quickly it was like John was tainted with incurable disease. John dug his knobby cane into the ground and walked with as much dignity as he could muster. He didn't dare search for Mary's eyes. It would be sure to break him. John was nearing the stairs when he heard a commotion over his shoulder.

"JOHN! JOHN!"

John whirled around with dread flooding his heart as he watched his elder sister cross the roped line to reach him.

"Harry! Harry, go back, please go back!" He shouted as the peacekeepers started to make their way towards her.

Harry looked like a lethal beast. She was practically foaming at the mouth with anger. John knew what was coming next and part of him feared for the peacekeeper that tried to lay a hand on her. Sure enough her fist broke the glass on the peacekeeper's visor and he stumbled long enough for harry to kick him in his groin. Several more uniformed peacekeepers began to swarm her and she brawled with them like a mad dog. John watched long enough to see a gun handle strike her temple with enough force to knock her down before he began to run towards the fray. The peacekeepers blocked his way and his cane rattled to the ground.

"Stop! STOP! PLEASE!"

One peacekeeper actually lifted John by his midriff and briskly made for the stage. John struggled angrily, striking the armored peacekeeper on his collarbone with his fist. The peacekeeper merely grunted.

"GET OFF ME! HARRY! HARRY!"

John shut his eyes when a stun gun was pressed to Harry's neck. John couldn't see her sprawled on the ground because she was blocked by the horde of panting and wounded peacekeepers. The peacekeeper practically jammed John down on the stage and departed. John righted himself and his bad leg wobbled dangerously. He was out of breath and trying desperately not to break down and cry. Rona was silent for a moment with a look of disbelief on his face. His jaw was ajar and John felt a wild desire to laugh at him. He would have, if not for the current circumstances. Rona suddenly snapped back into place and grinned towards the camera again.

" And there we have it! Round of applause for our young tributes! John Watson and Sarah Sawyer!"

The district was white faced and shaking because of Harry's outburst. No one clapped. John turned his head towards Sarah and she turned to him. For some alien reason John could actually muster a charming smile. As far as ashen-faced sad smiles go. To John's disbelief she blushed and looked straight ahead as the mayor began reading the Treaty of Treason. John was actively refusing to look at the swarm of peacekeepers still surrounding Harry's motionless body. John did not know if she was dead and began to slightly panic. If Harry pulled through her wounds the penalty for attacking a peacekeeper was too severe to imagine.

John shook his head and refused to think about it. He didn't even hear the Mayor finish the Treaty. Sarah nudged John and he flinched. Her hand was held out and John looked at her in confusion. His brain was sluggish from fear and hopelessness. He quickly grasped her hand and shook it hurriedly. John stared into her greenish blue eyes and let her hand go but she lingered on his for more than was comfortable. The anthem began to play and they both turned to the crowd with a snap. John saw his future mentor Sasha Rutan walk towards them. John observed her with trepidation and remembered her games. John was very young but he distinctly remembered a particularly nasty kill where she strangled a tribute with bits of barbed wire that she picked up in the cornucopia. The messier the death the better in the capitol's eyes and she received a myriad of sponsors afterwards. She inclined her head towards them and scrutinized her tributes under her heavy eyebrows. Her auburn hair was so tightly tied back in a bun that her face looked oddly stretched and strained.

The anthem finished suddenly and the John was forced out of his thoughts about Sasha. The peacekeepers were rough with John as they led him into the Justice Hall. John imagined himself hurling his father's axe into the peacekeeper's arrogant faces for harming his sister to control his anger. Sarah was led into a vacant room opposite his and the door closed before John could get another look at her. John was placed into his own room before the door was slammed behind him. John's leg finally burned with pain and failed him. He hissed and stumbled to the couch. In his adrenaline he had forgotten the pain momentarily. But it always came back.

John kept sliding his palms down his legs now, trying to prepare for the hour he had to say goodbye. He couldn't bear to hear the verdict on his sister. There could be no tears from him either. He couldn't come out red and blotchy to the train. The more he dwelled on it the more he could feel his resolve failing. He ran his hands through his messy hair and instantly thought of Harry. Sure enough his vision began to blur and his throat dried out. John shook himself and refused to blink. He looked around the room and realized it was the nicest place he's ever been. His home was shabby, dark, and cramped. This room was polished to perfection, the couch was unnaturally soft, and everything had a mahogany surface. John focused on these small things until the door opened again. In came his tearful mother and tense father. Harriet was nowhere to be seen. Mrs. Watson was clutching John's cane.

John stood up quickly and stammered, "Is she…you know-"

"No, sweetheart she isn't. They dragged her away but we…" Mrs. Watson went into a fit of sobs as she handed John his cane.

John's father placed his hands on his wife's shoulders and rubbed her soothingly as she tried to compose herself.

"We saw her breathing, John. Just barely." Mr. Watson looked extremely grim.

John didn't know whether not to be relieved or more terrified. He settled for embracing his mother. Theoretically she lost both her children today. John brushed the thought aside. Mrs. Watson began to sob again.

"Mum….Mum, I'm not dead yet." John laughed weakly and Mrs. Watson clutched at him harder. Perhaps the joke was in poor taste.

John led his parents to the couch and they sat together silently. Any thoughtful communication was without words. They communicated with a touch of the shoulder or the passing of a handkerchief. After a half an hour the door opened again to reveal Mary. Mr. Watson steered Mrs. Watson out for a moment to give them privacy. John tried to smile at Mary but he ended up grimacing. Mary grabbed John and embraced him with enough force to knock the wind out of him.

"Unh….nice grip, Goldilocks." John quipped with a high-pitched chuckle.

"Shut up. You stupid idiot."

"Hey now…who's stupid?"

Mary still had her small pale hands on John's shoulders.

"John…you can throw an axe better than the whole district."

"Mary…I can barely run…"

"I'm serious, John! Remember that time we played hide and seek and I literally didn't find you until you had to reveal yourself?"

"You were five. Hardly a trained seeker."

"Dammit, Gimpy I'm trying to help you!"

John wrapped his arms around Mary again.

"Just help me now. Help me to not fall to pieces…"

"I'm starting the most impressive sponsor group in Hunger Games history. How can they not? After the badass show you put on."

John started laughing suddenly and Mary jumped. She looked concerned, as though John had already lost his mind.

"I'm sorry…b-but…did you see Rona's face?" John couldn't stop his giggles throughout the sentence.

"Yes! My God he looked like a fish out of water." Mary turned her face into what appeared to be a gape with a slightly lazy eye and John laughed harder.

"'May the odds be ever in your….duurrrrr?'"

The joke was so jayus that John and Mary went into hysterics. Their snorting laughter forced them to sit on the couch. When they could finally breathe again John realized that it had been days since he laughed. The effort to smile felt as though it could break his jaw. And suddenly guilt enveloped him that he had poked fun at the moment Harry fought for him. But if she hadn't lashed out, Harry would at least get to say goodbye. The thought pained him so much that Mary began to rile him up again with other jokes and fond memories. They spent the rest of their time talking about anything other than the Hunger Games until a cruel awakening came in the form of the peacekeepers. Mr. and Ms. Watson briskly pushed past them to say goodbye one last time.

"Win for me, Gimpy. I can't do this without you." Mary kissed John on his cheek and stood up.

John accepted one more embrace from his parents until Mrs. Watson slowly exited the room. Mr. Watson handed John a small parcel wrapped in brown paper.

"Dad, what's this?"

"It was meant to be your birthday present. Now it's your token…take care of it John…"

John unwrapped the brown paper and found a complex watch. The face had a half moon with a smile and a starry night as the background. It was surrounded by tough pliant leather and the hands of the clock were fine points of sterling silver

"Didn't this used to be Grandpa's?" John asked in awe. It fit perfectly on his wrist. It wasn't too large or small. But it was so artfully done that it would be worth a lot of money in district seven. John's grandpa had crafted it himself.

"It used to be mine too. Only I never really wore it. You should know what time it is in whatever blasted place they send you."

"You should use it to buy more food-"

"Listen to me, John."

John looked into his father's eyes.

"When you come home, we'll never go hungry again. We won't have to slave away at work. I'm not selling the old thing. I know you're coming back. When you feel like giving up, look at that damn watch. You can do this. "

John saw genuine hope in his father's eyes. John had none for himself. His father roughly dragged him into a hug.

"Good luck, son."

"Thanks, Dad."

Mr. Watson was practically forced out the door. John was alone again. He thought he would feel better and resolved but it actually made everything worse. John began to wind his new watch nervously. He wished he could see his sister. He wished he could just go home. He looked up as the peacekeepers approached him. They were there to do the exact opposite.