I needed a little filler for later purposes. So, a little detour before the games really get going...

Katniss -

Sunlight creeps into the bedroom windows just as my eyes begin to sag. I haven't slept a wink, caught up in my living nightmare. Even with the shelter of Peeta's arms wrapped around me, rocking me back and forth as I cry myself dry, I cannot find rest.

I never wanted children. I never expected to. One foolish night I let myself go and I placed an innocent life into my hands with no way of protecting it. I accepted my death for the sake of Peeta's, but now I have another life to consider as well and I know what Peeta will want me to do.

Under no circumstances will Peeta believe he'll leave the Arena. He'll make every attempt to shield me in the hopes that I come out alive. But we both know that, even if I do, my life is as good as over if I emerge Victor. Our child will be the property of the Capitol. Taken out on every occasion to show their power over the Districts. And his mother? If they let me live, I'll be a ghost behind him. They won't need me anymore. I can simply fade away. Or I can crush their plans before they even start.

As a shaft of sunlight touches my cheek and crawls up my face, what I must do dawns within me. Damn them all. If anyone's coming out alive, it's going to be Peeta.

There's a knock on my bedroom door. The intercom buzzes to life, jostling Peeta from the fitful sleep he's found. He rolls me onto his chest. His blue eyes search my face, drinking in every detail.

"What?" I ask him when he says nothing.

"I'm trying to burn your image into my mind. Right here, right now. My wife with the sun's golden glow on her skin."

I roll my eyes at him. Peeta's so sentimental. I don't know how he finds the strength for it at times like these. "Please."

"I mean it," Peeta cups my face with his hands and his lips press against mine and my tiredness slips away. I melt into his touch, my tongue entwining with his. But there's no time for this. Death is impatient and so is Haymitch.

"Up," Haymitch calls through the intercom. "Cinna and Portia will be here any minute."

I groan as Peeta rolls me back onto my side. He sweeps the blankets off his bare legs and climbs from my bed. I watch him intently, taking in every contour of his back and the firmness of his butt-cheeks. The weeks of training have left him in peek, sculpted, perfection; including the crevice that defines his powerful thigh. He is perfect, even with the prosthetic that the last Games left him with. All of him is beautiful and dear to me.

He looks back at me as he reaches for his pajamas on the nightstand, catching me staring at him. A slow, boyish grin crosses his face.

"What?" Its his turn now to ask me as my eyes rake over his body.

I shake my head and say the only thing I have on my mind.

"I love you."

Gale -

It's early morning and District 12 is starting to awaken, but it's quieter than it's ever been. The Mine and all of the shops are closed for the start of the Quarter Quell. Everyone will be expected to watch at home or at the screens erected in the town square. Though I wager no one will dare to watch in the later.

After the Reaping, the people of District 12 have been afraid to gather in large groups and the Peacekeepers like that just fine. It makes easier work for them harassing the few who do dare to venture out of their homes. I've had my fair share of threats thrown at me as I pass the square on my way to the Everdeen's home in Victor's Village. They have their eyes on me everywhere I go. I'm a marked man.

The dirt crunches beneath my worn boots as I trod my daily path towards the square. There's the usual contingency of Peacekeepers doing their morning drill – a show of strength and power. They march in lock-step – three men across. Their eyes always forward, cold and unfeeling. Showing that they are better than us. They are soldiers. We are scum.

I skirt the square, keeping to the back of the Apothecary and Baker's shops. The least notice I get, the less room there is for me to mess up and fight back. I promised to behave, but they make it so hard.

Since the Tributes left for the Capitol, the Victor's Village has been as quiet as the rest of town. There's no drunk outburst from Haymitch, no smoke coming from Peeta's busy oven. The only house that looks lived in is Katniss'. A spiral of smoke curls up from the stone chimney and I know that Mrs Everdeen and Primrose are already awake. I doubt they've slept a wink. Just as I didn't.

Prim answers the door when I knock. She's dressed in a pair of Katniss' old khakis which sag at her hips. The white blouse she wears must be one of her mother's because it's tied into a knot at her waist to take up the slack. Her blond hair is down, no more pig-tail braids for this Everdeen. Her eyes are red-rimmed and dark beneath the eyelids. She's had to grow up so fast in so little time without her big sister here to shelter her. I know Mrs Everdeen tries, but Prim has had to take up the slack that Katniss once did when her Sulk becomes too great to function. I know for a fact Primrose has been treating more than half the patients who come to their door. The innocent girl has faded into the young woman in the doorway.

Primrose throws herself at me, her branch-like arms wrapping tight around my neck as she lets loose a wild sob. She's hurt, crying like a wounded kitten in my arms and all I can do is rub her back and try to reassure her – even though we all know words are empty promises now.

"She's a fighter, Prim," I coo against the top of her head. "She's got one of the best Mentors watching her back on the outside, and I'll bet she's turned more than a head or two to watch her back inside. It's not going to be the same as last time. She's not alone."

Prim's fingers twist the fabric of my shirt into knots. She shakes her head against my chest, unwilling to relinquish her grip or look me in the face.

"They're going to die. He's going to kill them. I'll never s-s-" her voice breaks as another round of sobs overtakes her.

I don't know what to do for her. None of this knows how this is going to end. We can only hope and hope isn't much anyone can count on now-a-days.

I scoop Primrose into my arms and carry her inside, nudging the door closed with the heel of my foot. Mrs Everdeen looks on quietly from the kitchen as I place Prim on the sofa in the den and sit down beside her.

"What was it Katniss told you last year?" I ask as her crying begins to abate.

"That she's try to win... for me."

"And what happened?"

"She came home. Both of them did."

I nod. "And that's never happened before, has it?" Prim shakes her head, though she looks skeptical at what I say next. "There's never been a Tribute like Katniss before. There's never been a pregnant woman sent into the Arena. Can you imagine the support she'll have in there? The sympathy card of every mother, grandmother, or soon-to-be? Don't count them short, Prim. They're counting on us too."

Mrs Everdeen joins us with two mugs of tea. She hands one to me and the other to her daughter before she begins to dab at Prim's eyes with a handkerchief.

"Gale's right," she says reassuringly and wraps Primrose into a hug.

Mother and daughter hold onto each other so long that I feel out of place. An intruder in their home, trying to share their grief. But really, what have I to lose?

"I was thinking," Mrs Everdeen says as I start to stand up. "There's so much room in this house, especially with Katniss married now and gone for the Games. Why doesn't your family stay with us? Until the Games are over at least?"

"Stay with you?"

The thought is tempting. Victor's Village is close to the square, closer to school than our shack is. I hate the idea of my siblings walking so far to school with things as tense as they are. But my mother would surely disapprove. We'd be obligated to repay Mrs Everdeen and my mother insists on repaying her debts. She doesn't accept charity.

As though reading my mind, Mrs Everdeen adds, "I could use another pair of hands. There's so many people who need tending to, the house work is piling up."

"I'll ask."

Katniss -

My blood is pulsing wildly in my veins. I beat my hands against the glass of the tube, but there is no way out. I cannot get out. I cannot get to Cinna!

I watch in horror as he's clubbed again and again in his shoulders and his face. A white-uniformed knee connects with his stomach and Cinna recoils like an infant on the floor, thrashing in pain – unable to get away or to make it end.

The ground beneath my feet is moving, the pedestal shooting me up into the sky and I am still trying to get to my friend. I have to try! I have to -

My eyes are blinded by white sunlight as I'm shot into the open Arena. Waves of sapphire and blinding silver slash at my irises and I have to shield my eyes with my hand as I desperately try to hold me balance. One slip, and I'll be blown sky high before the clock has finished it's countdown.

A ripple of blue spears my eyesight again and I rub at my eyeballs with the palms of my hands, trying to clear my vision. But once I can see, I wish I couldn't.

Crystal blue water laps at the base of my pedestal. This is no ordinary Arena. Plutarch Heavensbee has gone all out.