A/N: Hey everyone! How are all of you on this fine evening (well for me anyway)? LESS THAN 2 MONTHS GUYS! I'M A LITTLE EXCITED :D Anyway, before I freak you all out even further I will say here is chapter 26 :) p.s. thank you to everyone who reviewed/favourited/followed since I last updated!

I drag a rather unsteady Haymitch through the crowds of the Capitol in their hundreds all gathered around Caesar Flickerman's studio all vying for a seat.

"I hope you're proud of yourself!" I shout above the clamour, craning my neck to find the entrance among the large hair and even larger headpieces.

"Very," he slurs and I feel something fall around my neck. I reach up to feel silk and end up pulling down the emerald green tie I wasn't aware he had taken off.

I turn back around to face him. "I'm sorry, I wasn't aware that I was dealing with a five year old." I thrust the tie back into his hands and continue walking.

We eventually fight our way through the crowd to the entrance where we show the man on the door our identification. I begin to head towards the doors leading to the auditorium but Haymitch stops me.

"Hey Eff's,"

"What?" I say shortly, my patience running thin.

"Where's your scarf gone?"

I bring my hand up to my neck rather stupidly and realise he was referring to the tie. I look to his empty hands to his empty collar. I don't even want to know where, who or what he has dumped it on. "Haymitch, I am not going to argue with you. Come on."

He laughs to himself heartily as we find our seats in the allocated section for mentors, escorts and stylists. I make certain to put him on the end of the row so should he vomit at any point, it won't be on Eleven's team or a potential sponsor.

An attendant passes by with an usherette tray and I take a bottle of water, pay for it and thrust it forcefully into Haymitch's hand. "Drink"

"What's the magic word?" he unscrews the cap and holds the bottle just under his mouth.

I huff and cross my right leg over my left. "Please. Please drink the water. Please behave yourself. And for Lord's sake please sober up, you are making an absolute mockery of yourself."

"Someone's hormonal today," he mutters under his breath, taking a drink.

"Don't call me hormonal when it's your damn fault I'm hormonal in the first place." I hiss.

He chuckles, satisfied at my frustration as Cinna and Portia join us from backstage.

"See, they're late." Haymitch whispers.

"Yes but they had a reason." I whisper back wishing that the show would just hurry up and start.

"So did I"

I scoff and it is almost like someone heard my silent prayer as the auditorium lights dim.

There is a brief moment of darkness before the stage is illuminated by an entire spectrum of colours and then Caesar Flickerman appears highlighted in hues of purple from his hair to his shoes.

He greets the audience here in the Capitol and in the districts and rambles on for a while about the Quell and how awful it is that we are to lose some of the greatest victors Panem has ever known in his own opinion.

"Well I know when I'm not loved," Haymitch mumbles to me and I roll my eyes at his sardonic joke.

"But," continues Caesar, "sitting on this very stage tonight is the victor of the Seventy-Fifth Hunger Games. The victor of victors. The winner of not only one but two Hunger Games. The absolute crème-de-la-crème to celebrate Seventy Five wonderful years."

The crowd goes wild at the prospect and the applause swells as Caesar proceeds and introduces Cashmere.

She strides confidently over to her chair in a dress made of chrome and baby pink metal panels, her blonde curls cascading from the very top of her head.

"Cashmere, wonderful to see you again. You look absolutely ravishing." Caesar kisses her hand and she sits down with a drawn out sigh.

"Thank you Caesar, and thank you everyone. I feel so blessed to be up on this stage again!" She blows a kiss to the crowd earning more applause. "But before the show I simply could not stop sobbing … I cannot even begin to imagine what all of you poor dears must be going through. You are losing both me and my precious brother but I couldn't be happier to be taking part in a Quarter Quell – It is just so exciting!"

She buzzes on until her time ends, Caesar hardly able to get a word in edgeways, and I find it difficult not to roll my eyes every five seconds at her arrogance. Gloss is slightly more subdued yet still just as conceited as his sister.

Brutus and Enobaria act like it is no big deal that they are going into an arena full of colleagues and friends. But I suppose it is just another Hunger Games for them.

Beetee questions the lawfulness to the Quell, pushing his glasses up at around thirty second intervals I observe as he reels on in his jittery manner. Wiress barely speaks at all.

The crowd is left somewhat bored by Beetee's speech but come alive again as soon as Finnick takes the stage.

Caesar claps him firmly on the back and he returns the gesture before going to his chair.

"So Finnick, are you excited to be going back into the arena?"

He shrugs nonchalantly. "Well I would say so if I didn't have to leave all of my lovely ladies behind." He winks and in that moment at least three women in the crowd faint. "Which reminds me, I have written a little something," he pulls out a folded piece of paper from his shirt pocket. "An Ode to my Love." He delivers proudly and proceeds in reciting his poem.

The women in the crowd go crazy, countless fainting, some screaming or crying and several fighting it out between themselves. Two of them even have to be escorted out after starting to physically claw at each other for the supposed affection of Finnick Odair.

Finnick grins amusedly at the scene unfolding and by the time the audience has been restored to a relatively calm state, his interview is over.

Mags is next and she regales the audience with tales of her life since her Hunger Games all of those years ago.

Districts Five and Six pass by relatively without a hitch or any sort of extreme response from the audience aside from laughter as the two morphling addicts seem too absorbed in the multi-coloured stage lights to answer even a simple yes or no question.

Johanna Mason appears blunt as ever in a saffron slim fitting gown that, judging by the way she tugs at it, she would rather not be in. She asks if something can't be done about the Quell and whether the Capitol ever intended for victors to become so closely bonded with one another and the Capitol itself.

Seeder follows behind by, rather daringly, saying how back home, everyone assumes that President Snow is all-powerful but if he is so, why can't he change the Quell. This elicits conversation from the crowd which eats up the rest of her interview time. Chaff backs her up by saying that the President could change the Quell if he wanted to but he mustn't think that it matters to anyone.

By the time Katniss is welcomed on stage, the audience is an emotional wreck and the volume of conversation has reached such a high that Caesar practically has to shout at them to quiet them enough to introduce Katniss.

"So, Katniss, obviously this is a very emotional night for everyone. Is there anything you'd like to say?"

At this very question my stomach lurches and suddenly leaving Katniss and Peeta to their own devices yesterday seems like it might not have been the best idea. Who knows what she could come out with!

"Only that I'm so sorry you won't get to be at my wedding… but I'm glad you at least get to see me in my dress. Isn't it just… the most beautiful thing?"

I relax again as she stands and crosses to the front of the stage. She is wearing the wedding dress that Cinna designed for the shoot but it has obviously been modified somehow to create some dazzling spectacle like last year.

She starts to spin and raises her arms with some difficulty due to the weight of the dress and almost instantly smoke begins to rise from the hem of the gown.

Next comes the fire that looks so real I'm sure it must be burning her but she keeps spinning, smoke still billowing furiously. Pearls fall from the bodice of the dress and from around her neck, clattering to the stage, some even landing in the front row.

I gasp as she comes to a stop and the crowd sees the dress in full. All that resembles the delicate wedding gown now is the shape, the sleeves still brushing the floor but continuing to smoulder a little from the transformation.

The white silk has burnt away revealing black feathers – thousands of them all over the dress, the tips of some that are still on fire.

Katniss lifts her arms into the air once again revealing small white feathers on the underside of the sleeves.

I immediately turn to Cinna who is sharing a smile with Portia obviously pleased that his design has had the desired effect on the audience. To my right, I see that Haymitch is also looking in the stylists' direction, a look to mirror mine on his face. He sinks back into his chair and exhales.

I turn my attention back to the stage as Caesar begins to speak again. "Feathers. You're like a bird."

"A mockingjay, I think," says Katniss still in shock herself. She moves her arms again but this time like she is the mockingjay itself giving its wings a small flap. "It's the bird on the pin I wear as a token."

I've never seen a mockingjay before except for in last year's arena and maybe in a schoolbook once but somehow my brain makes the connection almost instantly.

"Well, hats off to your stylist. I don't think anyone can argue that that's not the most spectacular thing we've ever seen in an interview. Cinna, I think you better take a bow!"

A spotlight finds him and every head in the room is turned his way. He rises and takes a small, modest bow and then the crowd goes wild once again. It takes me a while but eventually I too begin to applaud my colleague.

The barely audible buzzer sounds and Katniss is soon replaced by Peeta in his white tuxedo. They open with a few jokes about the dress and overcooking poultry obviously in an attempt to lighten the mood but anyone can see that Peeta is somewhere else entirely.

"So, Peeta," Caesar says, his professionalism returning now that the audience has quietened. "What was it like when, after all that you've been through, you find out about the Quell?"

"I was in shock. I mean, one minute I'm seeing Katniss looking so beautiful in all these wedding gowns, and the next…" He trails off and the audience lets out a sympathetic groan.

"You realized there was never going to be a wedding?" Caesar asks tentatively, saying what everyone was already thinking.

Peeta shifts his weight in the chair and looks somewhat indecisive. He looks up to the audience then back up to Caesar. "Caesar, do you think all our friends here can keep a secret?"

Haymitch and I exchange a worried glance.

"I feel quite certain of it," Caesar leans forwards in his chair, coaxing him onwards.

"We're already married."

It takes a moment for people to react, sounds of astonishment, sadness and confusion resound across the room.

I turn to Haymitch. "Is this true?"

"No, it can't be." I know he isn't lying because even his tone has a hint of disbelief.

"But… how can that be?" Asks Caesar with just as much bewilderment in his voice .

"Oh, it's not an official marriage. We didn't go to the Justice Building or anything. But we have this marriage ritual in District Twelve. I don't know what it's like in other districts. But there's this thing we do, it's called the toasting. Basically it's where a newly-wed couple cross the threshold into their new home, make their first fire together, and toast a piece of bread over it."

"Were your families there?"

"No, we didn't tell anyone. Not even Haymitch. And Katniss' mother would never have approved."

Haymitch shakes his head. "No, he's making it up. I can tell."

I smile. "How?"

"Katniss would've spilled at some point. She can't keep a secret, especially not one of this magnitude."

I shrug not knowing quite where I stand with Katniss and secrets but somehow the thought of a surreptitious marriage to Peeta does seem a tad far-fetched.

"And to us, we're more married than any piece of paper or big party could make us."

I feel annoyed with Haymitch for letting me lose the flow of the conversation.

"So this was before the Quell?" Asks Caesar.

"Of course before the Quell. I'm sure we'd never have done it after we knew." Peeta pauses briefly, saddened, before continuing. "But who could've seen it coming? No one. We went through the Games, we were victors, everyone seemed so thrilled to see us together, and then out of nowhere – I mean, how could we anticipate a thing like that?"

"You couldn't, Peeta." Caesar puts an arm around his shoulders. "As you say, no one could've. But I have to confess, I'm glad you two had at least a few months of happiness together."

The crowd applauds but not raucously, more out of respect for the heartbroken young man before them.

Katniss looks up from her skirt and smiles meekly at the audience, her eyes getting teary. How real are those tears?

"I'm not glad," says Peeta sorely. "I wish we had waited until the whole thing was done officially."

"Surely even a brief time is better than no time?"

"Maybe I'd think that, too, Caesar," he pauses, perhaps considering, "if it weren't for the baby."

History has almost repeated itself and I feel as if I've been transported back to their first interviews where Peeta first confessed his love for Katniss. I now realise just how clever Peeta really is. Dangerous, yes, but still clever and so very talented. He has the power to control a crowd with his words. Perhaps the most prevailing weapon in the world. He has managed to send the audience into a frenzy once again, some crying out, some calling for change and others like myself simply mulling over the situation in their heads. I wonder if this was the desired effect. It must have been otherwise why would he have said such a vexatious thing?

I don't have time to finish my train of thought before I feel a hand around my wrist pulling me up out of my seat.

"Come on, we're going." Shouts Haymitch above the furore.

I oblige and follow suit without question.

We exit into the foyer where a few others have also left the clamour of the auditorium.

"Where are we going?" I ask, finally able to speak in a normal volume.

"Back to the Penthouse before everyone piles out of there. It'll be mayhem as soon as Flickerman wraps up though I doubt he'll be able to get the crowd back now."

The crowd is still audible through the doors and a few more people push through.

"Ms Trinket."

I hear a voice next to me and turn my head to see a uniformed Peacekeeper.

"Yes?"

"I'm going to ask you to come with me."

"She's staying with me." Interjects Haymitch taking a step forward.

"Presidents orders."

"Then she's definitely staying with me."

I give his wrist a firm squeeze before he can say anything else treasonous.

"All citizens of the Capitol are under orders to return home and remain home for the rest of the night." Says the Peacekeeper and I let go of Haymitch's wrist.

"Can I not return to the Penthouse to bid my tributes farewell first?" I ask, already knowing the answer.

"All citizens of the Capitol are under-" He starts off again almost mechanically and I stop him not really wanting to hear the whole thing again.

"Fine." I say trying my best not to show how upset I am. "Haymitch, I'll call you as soon as I get home okay?"

He nods though I can see he's not best pleased.

I throw him one last reassuring glance over my shoulder as the Peacekeeper leads me out onto the swarming streets that are slick with rain still pouring down in bucket-loads and into a car.

The door shuts and the car begins to move. I take off my gloves and place them in my lap feeling my hands get clammy.

What should be a ten minute walk from the studio to my apartment takes around half an hour due to the hordes of people on the sidewalks and the roads.

Hardly anyone in the Capitol remains home during the Games. Some chose to watch them with family and friends but the majority chose to go out and watch it on a larger screen in a park or in a betting shop or in a bar surrounded by a rainbow of elixirs and cocktails.

By the time the car pulls up to the entrance of my building, I am tired and want nothing more than to just go to sleep, the evenings events beginning to wear me down. But I know that I must keep my promise to Haymitch and phone him for fear of him beginning to worry.

The phone rings two times before it is picked up.

"Effie?"

"Yes. I'm home now."

"Good…"

There is a pause as neither of us knows what to say, our options limited as the chances are that our conversation is being listened in on.

"Are Katniss and Peeta there?" I ask.

"You just missed them. I can go get them if you want?"

"No, no. They need all the rest they can get before tomorrow." My stomach turns at the thought.

"Hm. They send their thanks. Katniss even told me to tell you, and I quote, 'tell her how appreciative we are and how she was the best escort ever and that we send our love.'"

"Katniss told you to say that?" I ask in disbelief, tears running down my cheeks and making it difficult to speak.

"Yeah she did."

I let out a short hiccup-y laugh still not quite believing that those words came out of Katniss Everdeen's mouth. "Well, if you see them before they… Just tell them that they were a pleasure to know and to help coach and that I return their affections."

I would like to say more but I can feel that that is all I can bare to say.

"If I do, I will."

Rather stupidly, I nod but I know that if I speak now, the floodgates will open. The line goes silent for a while on my part.

"Still there?"

"Yes… I-I will see you tomorrow. Goodnight, Haymitch."

"Night, Trinket."

With that he hangs up.

I force myself not to cry anymore as it makes me feel selfish when I am not the one about to be sent into the arena for the second time.

I look out of my window and down at the streets now returning to some sense of normalcy and turn out the lights in my apartment, undress, climb into bed and will myself to sleep.

The next day I rise with the dawn and dress as quickly as I can but linger in front of the full length mirror for a while before I have the chance to throw on a blouse.

The bump is small, but noticeable and there is a slight curve now in my lower back to accommodate it and successfully make it stand out even more. Nobody exaggerates when they say this happens overnight.

Great, is the only word I can manage to form clearly in my brain.

I would spend more time attempting to hide it in some tightly laced dress that would pull it all in or in something that covers it but I know that if I don't go now then I won't get to the Penthouse for the start of the Games.

I can already hear shouts of excitement coming from nine stories down in an adjacent park where a screen, that looks like it could be as wide as my living room, is set up in the centre showing recaps of the Chariot Parade but not the Interviews as they normally would. I couldn't possibly imagine why.

I decide to walk to the Training Centre, not wanting to be cooped up in some stuffy vehicle when I will be spending most of the Games inside watching something I would rather not watch. I enjoy the fresh air and sunshine finding that it helps to clear my mind.

By the time I get to the Training Centre, the ten minute countdown has begun.

Haymitch is slouched on the sofa, a glass of white liquor in his hand, staring at the seconds ticking away on the screen. When he sees me, he draws his attention away and sets down his glass staring at me from across the room.

"I'm sorry I'm so late. The streets are as bad as ever." I say walking towards the sofa and sitting myself down next to him.

"It's fine. Drink?" He offers his glass and then remembering, draws it back. He smirks. "Oh yeah. All the more for me then."

I want nothing more than to knock the glass from his hands but manage to contain myself. I rub the palm of my hand over my stomach in circles.

"Kid giving you grief?" He asks, pointing. I smack his hand away.

"Haymitch, it's rude to point. And no, I just find it soothing."

He shrugs and we spend the next few minutes in silence, making the odd disconnected comment here and there.

I go out of the room briefly to get a glass of water but also to stretch my legs that having been tucked underneath me, have gone numb. Haymitch calls me back in when the sixty-second countdown begins.

The first thing I see on the screen are trees. And lots of them.

"Another forest, that's good." I say returning to my seat.

"Yeah but it's different. I've never seen that kind of tree before. I've heard of them but I've never seen them."

"A rainforest." We both say in unison.

The camera pans out to show the tributes all stood wearing identical blue wetsuits that are extremely unforgiving. Their plates are surrounded by clear blue waves that lap gently at their feet.

Next we see the sky, a white hot sun beating down and the sky itself a cloudless pink haze. How peculiar.

It cuts to an overhead view and all I can do is distinguish that there are three main sections: the rainforest, the beach or the sea. But I also notice that running from the Cornucopia in the centre of the arena are thin strips of land radiating like yet more sections. There are two tributes per section so that means there are twelve of them all together.

Then I realise something.

All of these tributes bar three cannot swim and there are no boats or rafts to help bring them ashore. What are the gamemakers going to do? Just let them drown?

I don't have time to formulate an answer before the voice of Claudius Templesmith fills the room.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, let the Seventy-Fifth Hunger Games begin!"

A/N: Okay, another chapter down and not too many more to go :( I apologise for any mistakes made in this chapter because it is nearly eleven at night here and I am tired so I haven't had time to check but regardless, I hope you enjoyed it! I was going to put something important in this A/N but I think I will leave it till next time. Anyway, between now and then please, please, please continue to review! I am thoroughly astounded at the feedback that I have had for this fic as a whole and I couldn't be happier so thank you to everyone who has reviewed etc. Well, I will leave it there and bid you all good night :)

You are truly the best readers ever! ~H x