Goodbyes

The odd-looking woman seems to be almost offended at my volunteering. "Does nobody have any respect for the procedures anymore!?" she wails.

Procedures? There are procedures for that? Oh well. Doesn't matter now. I blink. All around me, people are looking at me, standing there, with my hand still up in the air. I lower it. Most people ogle me like they've never seen me before, which is in fact correct. A path clears for me, and I step forward towards the stage. The entire square is dead quiet. All eyes are on me. A quick look in Katniss' direction is enough to make my eyes avert. Her face is one of pure confusion and… annoyance? But I can't confront her stare right now, so I keep my eyes fixed on the stairs to the stage and I make my way over to it.

Did I just sign my death warrant? Now that I'm thinking about it, there can only be one winner. And I'm doing this for Katniss, of course. I want her to be able to come back home, spend time with Prim, hunt in the woods with Gale… and do whatever else they do in there. This is how I'm going to repay my debt. I'm not of much use otherwise anyway. If I go out saving Katniss, at least there will have been some worth to my existence. I muster up my courage and ascend the stairs.

Now my knees turn wobbly. So many people. And I will need to state my name. Oh god. What if they don't find me in their files? Are they going to kill me off-stage and reap somebody else? No. They won't make such a fuss about it. A dead kid is a dead kid. That's what they want, right?

The woman gestures to me to move forward to the mic. A microphone. Funny. I think I've used these before.

"A second volunteer! Today is quite a day," proclaims the woman. "Very well, young man. What is your name?"

"Uh, Ceiran…," Surname, surname. "Ceiran… Abernathy," is my answer before I can contemplate why I came up with Abernathy. I must've heard it somewhere. I just hope that any possible Abernathy in the crowd keeps their mouth shut.

But the second those words leave my mouth, confused gasps and murmurs make the round across the square.

Shit.

The woman is taken aback for a second. "Oh well… I had no idea our victor had a relative. I'm sure he'll be excited to mentor you, once he wakes up!" she squeaks in that annoying but familiar accent.

The victor? Oh no. I look down at the drunk man on the floor. I must've heard his name in the speech before.

Well, that is starting just brilliantly.

This time nobody does the sign with the three fingers. They must be too confused by the whole ordeal. They play the anthem and once it ends, both Katniss and I are guided inside the Justice Building into two different rooms.

What's this room for?" I ask one of the Peacekeepers. He looks at me like I just asked him if he was a tree.

"Visitors," he barks and shuts the wooden door in front of my face.

So, I wait. I don't know if anybody will come to visit me, except Prim and Mrs. Everdeen, but they will probably want to spend as much time as possible with Katniss.

No five minutes pass, when a blonde boy comes in. He's stocky and has a friendly face, although he seems to be distressed and his forehead is glistening with sweat.

He stands awkwardly in the room for a few seconds until he clears his throat. "I guess I should thank you for volunteering for me,"

He's the boy whose name was called! What was it again? As if he could read my thoughts he says: "My name is Peeta Mellark,"

"Ceiran…" I start to introduce myself until I remember that I just announced my name in public.

"Yeah, I've heard that," Peeta smiles halfheartedly.

I think he is someone I could've been friends with. Finally, someone my age who doesn't just give me weird glances or pretend that I don't exist. Peeta continues: "But I doubt it that you have volunteered for me. I don't even know you and none of the other kids seem to know you either, except Gale apparently who I saw enter the square with you. I also never heard of Haymitch having any relatives. So, if you don't mind me asking, why did you volunteer?" He eyes me warily. Does he know Katniss? A new thought arises. Do people think I volunteered because I want to compete with Katniss, and worse, to kill her?

"I don't want to hurt Katniss!" I blurt out. His eyes widen in response.

"Katniss saved my life. I owe it to her to repay this favor," I confess.

Peeta doesn't say anything for a while. "Does that mean, you are willing to die for her in that arena?" he asks almost tentatively.

"Yes," I answer.

"Oh," he looks at the floor.

"Well then, I guess I have to thank you again," he says.

I blink, confused. Then it hits me. He knows Katniss! Even more so, he likes her! How many admirers does she have, this cold and cranky girl? But then I remember the smile she gave me just half an hour ago and the flutter in my stomach is answer enough. At least three.

"You're welcome," I mutter.

"Dad said, we will help her family out for the time she's gone," There's an unspoken "If she ever comes back" in the air, but neither of us mentions it.

"I'm glad to hear that," is all I manage to express.

"I wish you good luck. And I'm sorry. Goodbye," are Peeta's final awkward words, before he hurries outside.

"Thanks," I whisper into the empty room.

A minute passes and Gale enters the room. This surprises me. I never thought he would want to speak to me, and I have no idea what to say to him. "Are you intending to sacrifice your life for hers?" is his first question to me. To my surprise, there's no undertone in his voice, no anger or suspicion. But I can see the worry in his eyes—the worry for his best friend.

"That is my intention," I respond.

Gale's lips curl into a slight smile. "She'll kill you for that,"

I can't help but snort.

"If it will benefit her," I retort with an eye roll.

Gale's smile fades. "I don't think thanking you is proper, so I won't. This is your decision, and you certainly didn't do it for me. I have one question though, as what do you view Katniss?" Gale's expression is firm when asking me that question.

As what do I view her? What am I supposed to answer? A friend? My savior? The reason why Gale wants to know that is obvious, but I don't see the point in telling him. If I want Katniss to live, then I must die in her stead. Gale and Peeta can compete amongst themselves who gets to be with her, once I'm buried underground.

"I don't know," I answer. It's both a lie and a truth. But Gale is the last person I would talk to about my sentiment regarding Katniss.

Gale gives me a look but doesn't say anything else about that topic.

"Prim and Katniss' mother will be taken care of,"

"I know about that already," Gale looks surprised. "How?"

"Don't ask," I shrug. I'm in no mood to talk to Gale and I have a feeling he's here rather because of an obligation than because he wants to talk to me. Gale doesn't respond but simply offers his hand to me. I clasp it and we shake hands.

"You're a not a bad guy. Goodbye, Ceiran,"

"Goodbye, Gale," And then he is gone through the door.

Gale made me a compliment. Who would've thought?

For a while, it's quiet. Suddenly the doors fling open and Prim rushes inside followed by her mother. They must've seen Katniss already. It must've been a short visit. "Ceiran!" Prim cries and runs into me for an embrace. I hug her tightly and for the first time, I feel my eyes welling up. God, I'll miss her.

"Why did you do that? Why did you volunteer as well?" her eyes seek mine and I see the pain and desperation in them. I realize that she just lost two people that she cares about.

She knows why I volunteered. But I get her frustration. "Prim," my words are calm. "Do you want to see Katniss again?"

She sniffs. "Yes," she croaks.

"Then I will give my very best to make that a reality. I promise," I hold out my pinky finger to her, but she swats my hand away. A single tear rolls down her cheek.

"I don't want your promise! I want both of you at home," her yell fades into a whisper.

I avert my eyes to the ground. Why does she have to make this so hard? I almost regret my decision now. But just almost. There is no other way. "You all have taken very good care of me," I nod to Mrs. Everdeen, who has just been standing next to us with a cheerless expression on her face. "I thank you for that from the bottom of my heart. And now I must repay that debt,"

Prim's eyes cleared a bit. "I just don't want to lose you both,"

I smile. "Of course,"

"Ceiran," Mrs. Everdeen speaks up. "Thank you," she takes my hand in hers and squeezes it gently. Her blue eyes are filled with dread and sorrow, but there's a glimmer of hope in them. Hope for her daughter to return to her.

"I'm sorry it had to come to this. Do you know what to do, once you're in the arena?" she questioned.

I shrug. "Not really, no. I guess I just have to study up before I get thrown in there,"

"Haymitch will be your mentor in the game. Follow his instructions," there is a demanding tone in her voice. I wonder who Haymitch is.

"I will, as long as it helps me keep Katniss alive,"

"No! Not just then. These games are unpredictable Ceiran. There's always a chance that…" she doesn't finish her sentence when she notices Prim's wide-eyed stare. "I didn't just patch you up to throw your life away in the arena. I would rather have someone from District Twelve win," Her eyes are fixed on mine and her grip on my hand almost hurts. "Promise me, that you will look out for yourself as well,"

I feel stupid. She really does care about me. She wouldn't have helped me so much if not for that fact. "Why are you still helping me? Why did you let me stay at your house, knowing I wasn't of much use anyway? Why did you keep me at your home, knowing Peacekeepers could storm in, seize and imprison me along with you?" Although the latter was unlikely, it could have happened. Katniss had pointed this out over a week ago.

Mrs. Everdeen looks at me blankly. Her stare goes right through me now. It's like she's looking at something happening far away from here. Her hand lets go of mine. "Once, I had a patient who had also lost his memory, same as you."

The surprise on my face doesn't stop her. "Katniss was barely three years old back then. Her father had stumbled upon the man outside the forest, just like Katniss found you. He brought him to me, and I helped him, but I refused to let him stay. My husband and I argued heavily that night, but I prevailed. When we kicked him out, he said nothing. If he had gotten a job, he probably could've gone by unnoticed. But that wasn't the case." She catches her breath.

"He was lost and confused. His vocabulary was damaged. The Peacekeepers noticed him and the next day they had him cuffed and deported. To where, I don't know. But I felt so guilty afterward, I couldn't live with myself, doing the same thing over again to somebody else." Her look is glassy when she finishes.

I don't know how to respond. Neither does Prim as she stares at her mother, her mouth slightly ajar.

"There you have it. My sins from the past." Mrs. Everdeen lets out a short mirthless laugh and averts her eyes. "I'm ashamed for asking this, but please. Don't tell Katniss. She has already enough reason to despise me,"

Bemused, I nod my head. "I won't say a thing, Mrs. Everdeen. Thank you for everything you've done," This time it's me who takes her hand and squeezes it reassuringly. Startled she looks back up at me. Then she smiles hesitantly.

"Abernathy?"

I groan inwardly. "No other name came to mind; I must've heard it during the mayor's speech,"

Mrs. Everdeen lets out the smallest of chuckles.

The door flies open. "Time's up!" A Peacekeeper yells.

"Goodbye, Ceiran," say Prim and Mrs. Everdeen, almost in unison.

"Goodbye,"

They turn around, Peacekeepers already by their side, escorting them out of the room.

Shortly after, I'm guided outside by two Peacekeepers and led into a car. There's that certain feeling of familiarity again. I might have been in a car before, but that might as well be an illusion.

The train station is swarming with reporters holding their cameras as close to my face as they're allowed to. Trying my best to look friendly into the cameras, I blink at Katniss by my side. She looks almost bored. Her skill at hiding her emotions is astonishing. One glance toward the big screen on the wall and I see my face. My smile looks convincing enough, but I'm slightly stooped. I straighten my posture and stride ahead.

They have us standing at the doorway of the train and I wave awkwardly. Katniss doesn't move at all, and I wonder if I should copy her. But I decide against it. I'll play the nice guy and she can put on her usual hard-to-get facade. It fits us both better. Being mean to people is not my thing anyway.

Once the doors close, the train sets in motion at once.

It's fast. Incredibly fast, but I hardly register it. I'm more concerned with how I should approach Katniss. We haven't said anything to each other since I volunteered, and I don't know how she feels about it.

The second I try to bring it up, she wheels around, and I'm met with a glare so fierce I feel my insides flinch to the back of my spine. "Why did you volunteer?" she hisses and pushes her index finger into my chest, hard enough to hurt. I don't answer for a second, as I'm too startled to speak. "Yes?" she presses.

I gulp. "To protect you," my answer is barely more than a whisper.

"What!?" she hisses again. "I don't need your protection! You have no right-"

"I have every right," I interrupt her. "It's my life and my choice and I've made my decision," Now I'm getting angry as well. Although I didn't expect her to cry and fall into my arms, I hoped for at least some resemblance of gratitude. But her dismissive manner – I have to admit – it hurts.

Katniss doesn't respond. She simply continues to glare daggers at me until we're shown to our rooms. I don't say anything to her anymore either. Once I enter my room, I immediately shut the door and lean against it, sinking to the floor with a sigh. My room is fancier than anything they have in District 12 for sure, but my mind is too occupied with Katniss for me to pay notice to any details. She's mad alright. But there's nothing I can do right now to change that.

I think long and hard. A while later, I hear a knock on my door. I open it. It's the odd-looking woman. We stare at each other for a second. "What?" I ask her.

"I've come to collect you for supper," she coos. "I'll be your attendant during your time in the Capitol. My name is Effie Trinket, but you know that of course," she laughs. It almost hurts my ears.

"Oh, okay then," is all I say. She seems somewhat disappointed but doesn't go into it and guides me down the hallway. She knocks on Katniss' door and the three of us make our way toward the dining wagon. Both Katniss and I refuse to acknowledge each other's presence throughout.

Once we've arrived at the dining wagon, I take it all in. It's the most elegant room I've seen so far. Wooden panels decorate the walls and expensive looking cutlery is waiting for us on the table. We each take a seat and silence fills the room. Effie, after a while, clears her throat. "Haymitch will be here shortly. He's taking a nap,"

"Haymitch?" I ask. Mrs. Everdeen had mentioned him before as well.

Effie stares at me suspiciously. "Yes, Haymitch. You know, your relative?" Shit. Haymitch Abernathy - the victor of District Twelve. He's here on the train with us and I have idea what to tell him. I'm so done for.

"R-right," I stutter. "Haymitch. Of course," I force out a contrived laugh but it's too loud and Katniss winces in her seat.

"Right," Effie answers, weirded out by my odd behavior. "Look at that, supper is here!" she exclaims, and I almost sigh with relief at the change of subject.

The supper consists of a multitude of courses – thick carrot soup, green salad, lamb chops and mashed potatoes, cheese and fruit, and a chocolate cake. It's the most delicious thing I've ever eaten, but I find myself missing sitting on a late evening with Prim, Katniss, and Mrs. Everdeen while spooning some squirrel stew.

"At least you two have decent manners," says Effie. "The pair last year ate everything with their hands like a couple of savages. It completely upset my digestion,"

Katniss becomes still for a second. Then she drops her fork and knife and starts to eat with her hands. I can't help but smile at her defiance. I can only imagine some poor kids from the Seam being reaped – kids who never had enough to eat their entire lives, and suddenly there are several courses of rich meals, enough to feed their families for days. If that had been me, I think I would have eaten with my hands as well.

We're sitting in a different room, watching the recap of the reapings. Katniss is perched at the furthest end of the oblong sofa I'm also sitting on. For the first time I see the faces of the twenty-two competitors that I'll have to face in the arena. They all need to die for Katniss to live. I am finding myself increasingly loathing this whole affair. Killing off twenty-three children, just for one child to survive and be bathed in riches. It's so grossly abnormal that it makes my stomach curl. Could I kill them? To protect Katniss? If it came down to it, I think I could. Maybe.

To protect myself? Probably not.

These kids have a past. They have people who love them, who remember them. They have memories to cherish and a future they're longing for. I don't have any of that. Deep down, I guess I wish to have these things as well. A place where I belong, friends, maybe even loved ones. But I don't have any of that, and that's the harsh reality of it.

There are a few kids who volunteered as well. Namely the kids from Districts 1,2 and 4. District 2 seems to have the most dangerous competitor – a massive boy, with arms big enough to crack a neck in seconds. Once again, I find myself in wonder at how I know that. In the recap, he's grinning at the camera somewhat dumb – and I find myself hoping that maybe he's not the brightest star in the night sky. The dark-skinned boy from District 11 is big and strong as well. They call his name – Thresh. Somehow, I think we could get along. He's quiet, almost stoic but there's an integrity shining brightly in his eyes.

The girl from 11 is no older than Prim. Rue. This must've been her first reaping. I grow sad at this. Katniss must've thought the same, for when I sneak a glance at her, her grey eyes are glassy, and I can tell she's thinking about her sister.

Then they show the tributes from District 12 – us.

We see Effie on stage calling out Prim's name. Katniss volunteers – my heart clenches at the desperation in her voice – and then, I volunteer for Peeta Mellark as soon as his name is called. It's almost funny, as Effie was just complaining about following the proper sequence of events and there I am, embarrassing her once again. When they ask me for my name, I can see the cluelessness on my face. On stage I blurt out "…Abernathy," and I can sense Katniss rolling her eyes next to me on the couch. "You couldn't have come up with a worse name," she mutters.

I don't respond, too ashamed to retort anything but also, I'm still mad at the way she's been treating me. I'm trying to save your life. Why are you still treating me like trash?

"Your mentor has a lot to learn about presentation. A lot about televised behavior," mumbles Effie in a disgruntled manner. She must've noticed the angle at which her hair was at, after Haymitch's hug.

"What's a mentor?" I blurt out.

Effie gives me a wary look. "Your mentor is always a victor. Haymitch is here to prepare you two for the arena. He's here to give you advice and he's the one lining up your sponsors." Sponsors? There must be a lot more going on in these games than I'm currently aware of.

"Speaking of Haymitch, does he ever intend to show up?" asks Katniss.

At this very moment, the victor of District 12 – Haymitch Abernathy – staggers into the room. "So, who is this Abernathy kid?" he slurs. Then he vomits all over the expensive carpet and falls into the mess.