Reaping Day came up all too quickly. I shouldn't been nervous, but I was. I had been preparing for death for a while now, because Peeta was going to make it home. I pretended like I felt peaceful, but really, I still felt on edge. I wanted to get the Games over with. My only regret was not spending more time with Matt. I stood on the stage, my arms crossed. Maybe I stood that way to keep my arms from involuntarily trembling.

Training had really helped me, which I wasn't expecting. I had gained noticeable muscle and even more skills. I felt more ready for these Games than my first. And that was good. Because I needed to be able to kill everyone so Peeta could make it home.

"Ladies first," Effie said without her usual bravado. The clicking of her heels towards the glass bowl rang out into the uncomfortable silence. I didn't watch her as she struggled to grasp the single slip of paper with my name on it between her inch long fake fingernails. She slowly clicked back to the microphone and said, "Ivy Undersee." Her voice cracked.

No one gasped. I squeezed my eyes shut tightly, ordering myself not to cry. I wanted someone to grasp my hand and fold me into their arms, but I was alone. So I opened my eyes as Effie reaped the male tribute.

"The male tribute is… Peeta Mellark!" Effie called. Relief was in her tone. Why would there be relief? Was it because she disliked Peeta and was glad he was the one going back? Was it because Haymitch was safe?

Haymitch. Why wasn't he saying anything? I glanced over at him, giving him desperate eyes. Volunteer already.

He couldn't keep my gaze. The traitor simply stared at his feet while Peeta walked over to me. I started to shake in anger. What was Haymitch doing? He promised me he would volunteer! Peeta shook my hand as Effie announced us as the two tributes, again. Peeta wrapped me in his arms while I cried. Then, two Peacekeepers grabbed Peeta and me, pulling us apart. We would see each other soon, but first came the goodbyes. I had so much to tell Matt; I hoped he came to say goodbye.

Next thing I knew, I was forced onto a train. I was confused; I thought we said our goodbyes in the Justice Building.

"No, we get to say goodbye," Peeta said, as if reading my thoughts.

"New procedure," a Peacekeeper growled. I shook my head in disbelief.

"No, I get to tell him goodbye," I breathed out, my voice trembling against my will. Peeta gave me a look but kept his mouth shut.

"That's not happening," the man said harshly. Something snapped in me, and I was suddenly furious.

"It is happening, you son of a bitch! Let me go tell my brother goodbye now!" I screamed, leaping at the Peacekeeper. I dragged my fingernails down his face, leaving shallow cuts on his cheeks. He pointed his gun at my stomach. I shook my head, sobbing.

"Do it. Do me the favor," I shouted. My eyes pierced into the Peacekeeper's, and I felt like I was begging for death by shouting at him. And maybe I was begging for death. Maybe I was more frightened of the Games than I tried to let on.

Peeta's arms wrapped around my stomach, and he pulled me backwards, muttering apologies to the man. He took me to my room, the one I always had on this train, and put me on the bed. He sat next to me, stroking my hair in a soothing rhythm.

"I need to tell him," I gasped, "that I'm sorry."

"Your brother?" Peeta asked.

I glanced up at Peeta through my blurry eyes, "Who else?"

"I thought you were talking about Gale," he admitted. I almost laughed it was so ridiculous. "Why is it so funny?"

"I don't know," I said. But I did know. I was laughing because I would've thought the same thing if our positions were switched. I would've thought Peeta was talking about Katniss. It gave me small comfort, knowing that Peeta was still curious about how I felt for Gale. I wished he would just believe me that I didn't feel for Gale the way I felt about him.

Peeta gave a small laugh too, before he too grew serious. I grew serious myself. "I need to tell my brother goodbye. Don't you need to tell…" I stopped. I couldn't mention Katniss. "Don't you need to tell people goodbye?"

"No one I care enough about to say goodbye to," he said, stroking the side of my face with his fingertips. I shivered under his touch. My eyes glanced over him, noticing more about him now than I have noticed in months. He had bags under his eyes, a deep purple color. His lips were an odd pale pink color that matched the blush on his cheeks. His hair was longer, which meant it had even more curls.

"Not even Katniss," I murmured.

Peeta's mouth spread into a large smile, "I already did." I tried not to show the hurt on my face.

"When?"

"Actually, I…"

A loud knock was heard on the door, followed promptly by Haymitch's even louder shouting. "You two need to get out here right now. We're watching the Reapings, and the TV is one thing that doesn't care what the two star-crossed lovers are doing."

Peeta and I began to giggle with each other. Haymitch was most definitely drunk; you could hear it in his tone and his incomprehensible words.

"We should go," he whispered, getting up. I grabbed his arm and pulled him down close to me.

"We can finish this talk later," I asked, "right?"

Peeta gulped and nodded, giving me a tiny smile that made me know he was telling the truth. We held hands and walked together to the car with the television set. We sat and watched the Reapings, but only a few people stuck out to me. The people that I needed to watch out for.

The brother and sister from 1. The woman with pointy teeth from 2. Finnick Odair from 4. Johanna Mason from 7. All of them were going to try and kill me at the end of this week when we all entered the Games together. But I wouldn't let them touch Peeta. My grip tightened on his hand when the broadcast got to the Reaping for 12.

When Peeta's name was called, I almost stood up and punched Haymitch. But Peeta slid his arm around my waist and kept me stationary.

"I told him not to," Peeta whispered in my ear. As much as I was thankful that Peeta wanted to be with me, I hated him for this. My head fell on his shoulder.

"You idiot," I murmured, snuggling closer to him. He enclosed me in his arms, and we sat like this until I drifted asleep.

Peeta and I passed days on the train by going over the tributes we would be fighting over and over again. I felt like I was studying for a test, but this was a different kind of test. Peeta knew all the information by heart, but I didn't. And if for some reason we were separated in the arena, he felt like I should know everything he does about my competition. So, to spite him, I learned.

The last night on the train, Peeta came into my room, and we sat on my bed together. He fiddled with my hair while I fiddled with my fingers.

"Are you scared?" I asked. His hands stopped running through my hair.

"For you," he muttered. I tried not to roll my eyes as I turned to face him. We were both sitting with our legs crossed, and I moved as close to him as possible. Our knees were touching.

"Are you scared about dying?" I asked again. He looked at me with fake annoyance on his face; I had asked him this question many times. His hand cupped my face, his thumb stroking my cheekbone. "Are you scared about dying early on in the Games… and leaving me alone?" I breathed, averting my gaze from his eyes. I had never asked him this one before. His thumb stopped moving on my face.

"Yes," he murmured. I moved my face forward, allowing my forehead to rest against his.

"Then don't die," I said. Peeta's eyes met mine and in the short distance between them, there was tension. His arms gestured for me to come closer. So, I spun my body around so that my back was against his chest. His arms wrapped around me protectively.

"I love you," he whispered almost silently in my ear. "You know that, right?" My heart quickened. My head got fuzzy.

"I never really thought about it," I lied. Peeta found this funny, because he laughed. Loudly. Then, he tightened his arms, pulling me closer to him. His lips went to my ear.

"Ivy, I have never wanted to hurt you. Every thing I've ever done that has hurt you in any way, I'm so sorry," Peeta mumbled quickly. I hugged his arms around me and leaned farther into his chest. A single tear rolled down my cheek.

Why was I taking him back? If he did love me, and it seemed like he did, how could I take him back after everything that happened?

"I know. And I forgive you," I said, almost harshly. If I sounded harsh, he didn't say anything about it. We stayed sitting there in the quiet until sun shone through the window. I got up first, making some excuse about needing to shower to make him leave. He kissed my cheek, and then left for his own room.

Once he was gone, I collapsed on the floor. Maybe I was being dramatic and maybe I was over thinking everything, but I felt like there was something wrong with how easily I had let him back in my life. He had hurt me, and now I felt like I was letting him back too quickly.

What was worse, I had no one to talk to. Haymitch would just make me get over it and accept Peeta's love. Because he didn't understand love. Or maybe… he did. The girl.

"The girl," I said, once I had reached Haymitch's cabin. "The girl, you loved her!"

"What girl?" Haymitch asked, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. He wasn't asleep in bed though; he had his head down on the table. I suddenly remembered that I had never told Haymitch that I had watched his Hunger Games.

"The girl in your Hunger Games," I said sheepishly.

"Maysilee Donner," Haymitch whispered. His eyes got wide, as if he was seeing a ghost. Which, for all I knew, he could be.

"You loved her," I said. He looked up, and it looked like he was trying to hold in anger. I shied away into the corner. Suddenly, I was scared of the knife he always slept with that was still stuck in his tight fist.

"Nahhh," he gurgled, standing up and stretching out. "I didn't. We were just allies." His eyes focused on me, "You watched my Games?"

"Yes. For research on the Quells. We didn't mean to…"

"Did you have a reason for bursting in here?" Haymitch asked. I nodded and moved into the room again. My hand reached for a chair, and I pulled it to me, plopping down.

"You were right?" I asked, not recognizing the new meek tone to my voice. I expected Haymitch to ask what I was talking about, but instead his face spread into a wide grin. He knew I meant about Peeta.

"Yeah, I am a lot of the time. If you idiots would just trust me," he replied. He swigged down a gulp of liquor. I pulled my chair closer to him, so that my elbows could lean on the table.

"But, what I was going to ask was…"

"Sweetheart, I don't do girly advice talks," Haymitch whined.

"I agree you wouldn't be my first choice," I laughed before growing serious, "but I don't have anyone else to ask."

Haymitch eyed me for a moment. "Alright, sweetheart. Go ahead."

"Do I just let him back easily?" I took a deep breath. "He hurt me, Haymitch. And I feel like there's something wrong with just letting him back in. And there's the small part of me that still doesn't believe him."

He was silent. He didn't know what to say. His eyes stayed on mine, never wavering. "I understand," he mumbled.

"So, what do I do?" I asked, noticing the despairing tone in my voice. I didn't want to sound desperate.

"I think this is something you have to figure out for yourself," Haymitch said quickly. He got up and went to the compartment door.

"Where are you going? Haymitch, please!" I cried out. I ran towards him, grabbing his arm. "I can't figure this out by myself."

Haymitch let out a heavy breath. "Try." He gently ripped his arm out of my grip and walked down to the dining car. We were all supposed to meet there this morning, since we were arriving in the Capitol.

I just wanted Haymitch to tell me what to do. This was a decision I couldn't make myself. Because my heart wanted one thing, but my head was telling me the smart thing to do. And I knew that as soon as I saw Peeta, all I would want to do would be to be with him. I would throw right and wrong out the window.

I met with everyone in the dining car, and we were ushered into the tribute building. The Capitol didn't give me the awe that I had the first time I arrived here. All it filled me with was resentment. Peeta and I went our separate ways to get ready for the Chariots.

Once Cinna found me, I felt the anger fade away, replaced with unnatural fear. It was beginning again. I was going back into the arena. I grabbed Cinna and pulled him into a hug. He didn't hesitate to hug me back.

"It's okay, Girl on Fire. No flaming capes this year," he muttered, in an attempt to joke. I gave him a smile, grateful for him trying to lighten the mood.

"Too bad. I liked the fire," I commented. The tears remained in my eyes, and I was proud of my strength. My stylist took a step back from me and folded his hands in front of his body.

He cracked a small smile. "I never said there wouldn't be fire."