I'm shivering almost as much as the girls down there beneath the stage, suddenly feeling as cold as if I were naked. My mouth is completely dry and it's like I've had the wind knocked out of me, similar to how I felt that day seventeen years ago when Effie Trinket called Prim's name at the reaping. Only this time there's absolutely nothing I can do about it.

Not him. Not Tommy. Ryean's oldest boy, fifteen years of age, just a child. It dawns on me in this insane moment how naive we have been. We've been getting too cocky lately and presumably need to be put in our place. We thought we had protected ourselves by not having children but of course Snow could find a way to get to us anyway. I've long stopped believing in odds playing any part when the child of a victor gets reaped. The chances of that happening as often as it does is just too miniscule. Tommy's name being called today cannot be a coincidence. Peeta and I have failed to give Snow a star-crossed lovers' love child so he chose the next best thing.

I can't look at Peeta. I can't look out at the crowds either for fear that my eyes might land on my in-laws. It's been less than two seconds since Emalda read the name and already I am playing my cards with skills acquired over seventeen years of participating in the Games in some form. My face reads completely calm and composed, absolutely no show of the shock and devastation I feel. I will not give them that satisfaction.

I manage fairly well in the first moments. The shock probably helps as I feel almost numb as I watch Tommy walk towards the stage, peacekeepers right behind him. I get an eerie sense of déjà vu. He takes after his mother Maggie more than he does his father which means he doesn't look like the spitting image of his uncle seventeen years ago but it's still a Mellark boy, a strong and stocky boy with ashen curls and blue eyes who walks towards the stage, shock and desolation written on his face. I see him climb the stairs, see him greeted by Emalda and then I get a good look at his face as he moves slowly over to us, his mentors. He is ghostly pale, panic stricken. Haymitch only gives him a nod and a hark, Peeta puts his hand on his shoulder and squeezes it and then the boy is standing in front of me.

The look in his eyes hurts but it's not enough to make me break my composure. Then he speaks and when I hear the frightened, pleading tone in his voice I'm unable to keep my indifferent mask on.

"Aunt Niss..."

Him and his siblings and cousins have called me Niss since they were little and unable to pronounce my full name. The oldest of them took to calling me Niss and the others never thought of me having a different name until they got older. Tommy started calling me Katniss a few years ago and hearing him revert back to his old name for me makes it impossible to escape how young and vulnerable and frightened he is. It makes it impossible to ignore what we now stand to lose.

I resist the urge to hug him, knowing we need to give off a stronger impression in front of the cameras. Praying that my voice will hold I put a hand on the back of his neck and give him what I hope is an encouraging look.

"It will be okay" I tell him in a low voice, meant for his ears only. "You're strong. There's hope."

Then he's being ushered to the front of the stage where he's forced to shake Sally's hand as the ceremony continues. I force myself to look straight ahead. If there were no cameras and no people around I would turn to Peeta but I can't under the circumstances. I can't even share a quick glance with him to gather strength, nor can I take his hand in mine and find the reassurance the small gesture always brings. Him and I both stand with solemn faces and our hands clasped in front of us, backs straight, acting like this reaping is no different than any other. We won't give Snow or the audience the satisfaction of revealing our true emotions. It wouldn't help Tommy anyway if we did.

When Emalda finally wraps everything up we follow her and the two scared children inside the Justice Building. The second we hear the doors slam behind us I grab Peeta's arm and turn my head to look at him. He looks as pale as Tommy did outside. Knowing him as well as I do after more than a decade and a half of marriage I can see he's on the verge of tears but he manages to hold it back. He knows he needs to be strong now. Strong for his nephew and his brother and the rest of the extended family. For the second time his parents and his brothers will have to come back here to say goodbye to a beloved boy, knowing that his chance of survival is practically non-existent. The last time he came home, in spite of everything, but the odds are not in favour of a repeat performance.

As mentors we are not allowed to see the tributes until they board the train. Not even mentors whose own children are reaped get to see them while they're still at the Justice Building. That rule has never seemed more arbitrary and stupid to me than it does right now. Peeta and I will be able to see Tommy soon but I don't want to have to wait until he's on board the train to see how he's doing. If it were my own child I would be livid over not getting to comfort him or her in this moment.

We're still standing out in the hallway when a side door opens and nearly the entire Mellark clan enters together with Tommy's maternal grandparents and aunt. Peeta's mother, Ryean and his wife and their two younger children, Scotti and his wife. I realize Scotti's four children are not here but that's just as well. They are ages fourteen, eleven, nine and eight so the oldest, a girl named Claire, is probably with her friends congratulating each other on not getting reaped. Not that she will be in the mood to celebrate tonight.

"Peeta!" exclaims Maggie when she sees us. "Katniss!"

There are tears falling down her face as she throws her arms around me. I pat her back awkwardly and mumble something vaguely soothing, not sure how to comfort her in this moment. Peeta gives his brother a quick hug and a pat on the shoulder blade but he seems even more uncomfortable than I am right now. Ryean looks grim, more angry than anything else. I don't know what to say to him either.

"Maggie" I say, pulling back from the embrace and giving my sister-in-law a firm look. "Get a hold of yourself. Tommy is in there waiting to see you and he needs to see that you're strong. Don't let him see you cry, okay?"

"Mr. and Mrs. Mellark?" barks a peacekeeper named Thaddeus, making us all jump. "Right this way."

He ushers the parents down a corridor to a room I've never been inside, the room they keep the male tributes in. Tommy's two younger siblings follow behind them, both looking shocked, staring down at the floor and not speaking a word. I follow them with my eyes until Peeta's voice brings me back to where I am.

"Come" he says. "Let's not stand here and wait. There's a room where the mentors can wait if we don't want to go straight to the train."

Nobody says anything but we all follow him to the room where Peeta, Haymitch and I sometimes sit together to gather strength and courage before going to meet our tributes on the train. It's a large room, normally used as an office for the head peacekeeper, and it has a large couch and two armchairs on which Peeta's family sit down.

Nobody says anything at first. Peeta stands by the writing desk, gripping it with his hands and leaning some of his weight back against it. His face is still pale and he looks bewildered. I want to go up and wrap my arms around him, hold him close and do whatever I can to ease is pain. I want him to ease mine in return. I just don't feel comfortable doing that in front of my in-laws. I almost wish Peeta hadn't brought them in here. I wish we were alone, just him and me and possibly Haymitch. I need Peeta to hold me right now, as much as he needs me to hold him. That boy is precious to me too even if he's not my relative by blood.

"You'd better get him back alive, Peeta" Scotti finally says. His voice is low and angry.

"You know I can't promise you that" says Peeta in a hoarse whisper.

"That is our nephew!" barks Scotti.

"Peeta and Katniss want him back alive as much as you do" says Tommy's maternal grandfather in a remarkably calm tone. "They'll do whatever they can."

"We don't know who he will be up against" Peeta points out. He shifts a little, leaning against the desk with his arms now folded over his chest. "A lot depends on the competition. We'll do whatever we can but..."

He looks at me, desperation written in his eyes. I know he's thinking what I'm thinking. Mentoring your relative is every victor's nightmare. I should probably be grateful that Prim hasn't been able to get pregnant but it really doesn't make much of a difference. Ryean's and Scotti's children are my nieces and nephews too, just the same as any child of Prim's would have been. I've known them since they were born. I've watched them grow and been there for milestone moments. I love them, just as I would have loved a child of Prim's. I don't want to see them get hurt.

Nobody seems to know what to say after that. We sit there in silence, just waiting for time to pass, dreading the moment when the peacekeepers will open the door and fetch Peeta and me to go to the train. Peeta or I should be saying something encouraging or comforting but neither one of us can come up with anything to say. We know so well the horrors that await Tommy and we know that we are as good as powerless to help him.

After half an hour the door opens and we all look up. Ryean and his family walk in, looking like the weight of the world is on their shoulders. For the past fourteen years there has been a system in place where anyone who wants to say goodbye to a tribute has to sign up to do so and they allot how much time each person or group gets to spend in that desolate room. Ryean, Maggie and their children got half an hour since they are the closest family. Maggie's parents and sister get fifteen minutes and the rest of the Mellarks get fifteen as well. Too little time for too many people to come say goodbye. I'm not an advocate for letting large groups of people see the reaped child because I've found it gets too overwhelming for the poor girl or boy. Cousins, aunts and the like should take a step back and just let the closest family and friends be there.

On the other hand I find a form of beauty in the thought of how many people come to say goodbye to some of the children who are reaped. A testament to how many people care, that the life about to be lost is worth something.

Ryean and Maggie sit down on the couch, both looking like the weight of the world is on their shoulders. Their youngest, Fanny, climbs up on her mother's lap despite being ten years old and too grown to do so. Maggie lets her be but barely seems aware that she's there. Most likely they've just spent time with their son for the last time. For a few minutes nobody says anything but then Ryean looks up and glares at Peeta, looking very much like their mother when he makes that face.

"You're going to have to get him back" he says coldly. "This is my son we're talking about. And you're his mentor."

"It's not that easy Ryean" I say quietly.

"You have to get him back" repeats Ryean, his voice now louder. "You can, I know you can. You got out of there yourself."

"Ryean we're going to do everything we can and I wish I could promise you that you'll have your boy back home safely a month from now but I just can't make that promise" says Peeta with exasperation. "I don't want to see him die in the arena any more than you do but nothing is for certain."

"That's not good enough" barks Ryean. He used to be more soft-spoken but over the past few years his tone has grown harsher. Right now there's none of the softness there. "I will not watch my son get killed, do you hear me?"

"Tommy is in great hands" I break in. I can't make promises either but I see no harm in giving them a little bit of reassurance. "Peeta and me and Haymitch. We know how to work the system, how to play the game behind the scenes. It always comes down to the tribute in the end but Tommy's a Mellark and your brother proved to Panem seventeen years ago that they are made from tough material." I try to sound calm and reassuring. "We'll do everything in our power, Ryean."

Maggie breaks down crying and Tommy's siblings start snivelling as well. I look over at Peeta and again fight the urge to walk up to him and wrap my arms around him.

"Why is this happening?" sobs Maggie, burying her face in Fanny's blonde curls. Ryean begins to rub his hand down her back but he doesn't have a very comforting look on his face. "There's already been a tribute in this family. Why is this happening to us?"

"The odds just aren't in our favour" says my mother-in-law in a bitterly cold tone of voice. She's standing by the window, looking out at the street, seeming detached from what's going on.

"There's no use questioning it" says Peeta in an uncomfortable tone. His eyes are focused on the trashcan by the side of the writing desk, anything to not have to look at his family. "Prim got reaped when she only had one slip in the reaping ball. Others have over fifty slips their final year and they don't get picked. There's no sense in it. None at all."

Ryean lifts his head and gives Peeta a look just as Peeta turns his face towards his brother. Something passes by the brothers in that look, something I can feel but I most certainly can't interpret. Peeta breaks away almost instantly, leaving his spot at the desk and sticking his hands in his back pockets as he walks over to a bookshelf, staring at the books without seeing them.

"Maybe we should try and think positive here" says Allie, Scotti's wife. She's a calm, level-headed woman who often rubs me the wrong way because she never seems to question anything and just lets other people lead her along but she also possesses a calm that prevents her from getting too worked up about things. Right now that calm might be exactly what we all need.

"What the hell is positive about this?" snorts Ryean.

"At least Tommy has his aunt and uncle with him" says Allie. "That must be a comfort to you. He won't be alone in the Capitol."

"What good will that do him once he's in the arena?" questions Ryean, glaring at Peeta's back.

"At least he will have mentors who are really fighting for him."

Nobody says anything else for a while after that. Several people in the room are crying. There's a lot of tension in the air and I wish the hour could be up already. I want to retreat to the train and lock myself in mine and Peeta's compartment and hide from the ugly truth for as long as I can, curled up in Peeta's embrace. But when this hour does end I won't be getting any such luxuries. The moment we've boarded the train it is up to Peeta and I to take care of Tommy. I envy Allie and Scotti. They get to say their goodbyes and then go home and grieve. Peeta and I must carry Tommy through this upcoming week and on our shoulders lies the burden of making sure he's as prepared for the Games as possible. It's a horrible responsibility to have, though if you ask the Capitol it's a great honour.

I look at my husband, standing a few yards away from me, still staring at the backs of the books. Can we do this, him and me? Can we mentor Tommy successfully? And if we can't, what then? What do we do if we have to return back home and face all the people in this room and Tommy's not with us?

Slowly I walk over to the writing desk and take a seat on the leather chair. The ticking of the clock is almost drowned out by the sobs from the people in the room but I know time will fly by fast now. In seven days the Games will begin and Tommy Mellark might be dead. We've lost fifteen tributes in the cornucopia bloodbath. That's almost half the children we've mentored.

What does that say about our odds?

Sorry about the short chapters. They'll get longer, I promise =)
Thanks for reading!